#File Explorer not responding

[gamebunny-advance]

I didn't get a chance to vote on the poll, but also noticed what would have been my answer wasn't there so I'm writing it in now- I personally see it as he's their CREATOR first, manager second. They don't call him manager in a lot of materials, and they also don't call him father, they call him "Captain" or "sir," (this being pulled from largely the additional voice actor's portrayals at least, which I think are worth at least considering in a wider scope of interpretation)

That feels like the title or nickname he'd prefer they use, hence programming them TO use it for him- and that betrays neither fatherly intent nor producer intent, but pre-existing intent he didn't change (lifting from prior coding) or that he preferred. Beyond that he definitely refers to them as troops- it is their aesthetic, but it's more impersonal

the items you get for the lore on 1010 are toys, and while it's not stated, I've always thought there was an implication that he had made them- His relationship then isn't one of a father to sons, but of a creator about his creations, which IS different. It's why he's as willing to literally throw them at you in combat and, simultaneously, seemingly instinctively, puts a hand out in front of himself to protect them when the final attack is coming- even if they are tools to some degree, he MADE them what they are and he's PROUD of that- He doesn't want to see his work destroyed

Obviously this gets increasingly more complicated if you believe that 1010 gain sapience of some degree, but I still think the relationship isn't quite what I'd call fatherhood. He is simultaneously all the family they have and deeply, inherently unlike them- yet there is undeniably pieces of him and influences from him present in them, because every creation will reflect its creator in some way, in ways they can't even predict

Then, y'know, yeah, it's being a manager time. Ultimately he's gotta organize them and tell them what to do- how he feels about that could be a variety of ways, but he is doing it nonetheless, so something about it matters to him as well- likely the vow to serve the city thing, if leading a boyband is the way to ensure the lights stay on, then he's going to do it 'till his heart gives out.

To start, I do think you're getting a little caught up in the semantics of the poll, but since you're making the case that "creator" is different from "father," I'll hear you out.

And tbh, I really like that interpretation. It's a little more nuanced from what I'm used to seeing, and it is giving me something to sink my teeth into.

I do differ in that I don't think Neon J. personally made the toys or the base 1010: I felt like the implication of the MKI - MKIII standee was that 1010 has actually been around since the wartime era, since MKI 1010 are build more similarly to the recycled battlebots in the Metro Division. Parallel to that, I think it's implied that Neon J. is a cyborg due to suffering injuries in the war. Since they appeared to exist at the same time, it seemed more likely to me that 1010 and NJ's body originated from the same source, but not that NJ was necessarily the direct creator of either them or the toys. (Though, I will admit that knowing that the toy company is called "J-1" does imply that he has something to do with it. But to rectify that, I'm gonna say that he just bought out the company/factory, but he didn't start them.)

But that's just an argument of history. Both interpretations can still lead to the "creator" theory in the sense that NJ still views 1010 impersonally, but still fondly. Even if he didn't make the base, he still turned them into what they are today, which is still a lot of hard work and dedication to the craft.

It's not making him out to be this overly sentimental guy (which is ultimately what I dislike about most "father first" interpretations), but he's also not heartless, and I like that. It's retaining what many interpretations (including mine, sadly) sometimes miss out on, and that's that he's an artist, just like all the other stars. He values his craft, and 1010 are the result of that, for better or worse.

[mrtheinsatiable]

My laptop is frantically scrambling to remember how to move one file into another file

[unboundprompts]

advice for a character who grips control like a lifeline. who wants to be in charge of every little thing because whenever they're not in control of something something bad could happen. has happened. they can't let a single variable be wild or in someone else's hands

How to Write a Controlling Character

Backstory Rooted in Trauma or Guilt

This character likely has a history that has ingrained the belief that they must be in control or face devastating consequences. Perhaps they once trusted someone else with something crucial—a promise, a responsibility, or a life-altering choice—and that trust was broken in a way that had lasting repercussions. For example, maybe they lost someone because they weren’t “careful enough,” or they experienced a betrayal when they trusted another person’s plan.

They might frequently flash back to this moment, possibly catching themselves thinking, If only I’d been the one in control, this wouldn’t have happened. This memory fuels their need to keep a tight grip on everything, especially if they’re in high-stakes situations.

Rigid Daily Routines and Habits

This character’s day is probably packed with small rituals and routines that give them a sense of security. From double-checking door locks to setting multiple alarms, they rely on routines to give themselves a sense of order. In fact, they might be nearly ritualistic about small actions—checking emails three times before sending, never leaving a task halfway finished, or meticulously arranging their workspace.

Even something as simple as making coffee can become a precise process. If someone moves one of their tools or a file from their desk, they may feel a spike of frustration or even anxiety, seeing it as a disruption to their personal “system.” They could feel that control in their daily life is the only thing keeping chaos at bay.

Intensely Observant of Details and Mistakes

They are hyperaware of mistakes or inefficiencies in others, mentally cataloging things like a coworker’s slight lateness or a friend’s disorganization. They may feel a sense of superiority (or frustration) over people who don’t “have it together” and take it upon themselves to organize or “fix” things for others.

In conversation, they might cut people off or “correct” them even over small points, often justifying this to themselves as necessary. For instance, if someone shares a plan that seems half-formed, this character could immediately dive in, pointing out potential problems or filling in details.

Controlling Relationships and Social Situations

This character struggles in relationships where they aren’t the dominant or organizing force. They might instinctively take over when making plans with friends, micromanaging even casual hangouts to make sure everything goes “right.” For example, they might pick the restaurant, plan the travel route, and check weather forecasts—assuming that if they don’t, no one else will think of these things.

When someone resists their attempts at control, they can respond defensively, often turning cold or resentful, unable to understand why anyone wouldn’t want them to manage the situation. Statements like, “Fine, but don’t blame me if this doesn’t go well,” are frequent in their interactions.

Extreme Anxiety or Panic When Control Is Taken Away

When things go beyond their reach, this character might experience panic, as if they’re suddenly powerless. For instance, if an unexpected roadblock prevents them from handling a task (like a canceled flight they needed to board, or a plan that falls apart), they might spend hours trying to regain control, calling every contact or frantically exploring alternatives.

Their reaction may feel extreme to others. Even minor setbacks—such as a colleague taking initiative on a project or a friend planning something without consulting them—can trigger a disproportionate response, like clenching their fists, pacing, or silently stewing as they feel the situation “slipping.”

Inability to Accept Help or Collaboration

Their controlling nature makes it hard for them to collaborate, as they believe their methods are the only ones that work. For them, accepting help feels like an admission of weakness or failure, so they rarely delegate or ask for assistance. If they do reluctantly accept help, they are constantly supervising or “suggesting” things, making it feel more like they’re still in charge.

In a team setting, they might take on all the major tasks, either out of distrust in others’ abilities or a feeling that no one will match their standards. Their motto could be something like, “If you want something done right, do it yourself,” even if that means working late or burning out.

Reluctance to Show Vulnerability or Need

Since vulnerability and control rarely coexist for them, they avoid showing weakness at all costs, preferring to mask stress or struggles as “just part of the job.” If they do become overwhelmed, they’re more likely to shut people out, saying, “I’ve got it handled,” even if it’s far from true.

When people push them to let go or share the load, they might lash out, accusing others of “just not understanding.” They often see their intense responsibility as a form of sacrifice, justifying their behavior with, “If I don’t handle this, who will?”

[sunshine-jesse]

The Painful Realities of Andy and Leyley

Decay gave me a lot to chew on. While there was very little that caught me by surprise, per se (insofar as there’s a difference between shock and surprise), I didn't expect Nemlei to Go There with regards to some of the themes she covered in the newest update. I had a hunch, sure, but it was so (seemingly) out of place compared to the tone of the rest of the game that I didn't explore it as well as I could've. Most writers who cover the things Decay did don't play it dreadfully straight or treat it with so much respect. And even when they do, it often comes off as fetishized, which isn't bad per se, but so little of the rest of the game came off as The Author's Poorly Disguised Fetish that it was hard to take the prospect as seriously as I could've.

Effectively, Nemlei outplayed my media analysis skills by being an even better writer than I anticipated.

And so, I will respond in turn.

...or at least, I can try to.

I don't think I can type an analysis that is purely analytical anymore. Episode 3 hit me so much harder than anything that came before it that it's very difficult to write what I do with any sense of detachment. I can't pretend it didn't get personal. I love these characters. I love this story. I love the themes it covers. And I relate to many of them.

That's why seeing TCAL playing everything so dreadfully straight hurt so much.

(This essay is going to be somewhat narrativized to reflect my playing experience of Decay. This is a writing exercise as much as it is character analysis. But I also didn't have the patience to proofread this, so please be gentle.)

Part 1: The Games We Play With Ourselves

My first route was the Cliffhanger route. I want to pretend that I picked it because I knew it’d be the best outcome due to my unparalleled (insert ashley smug face here) understanding of the characters but I actually wasn’t expecting that one moment to be the big decision that caused the paths to diverge. It was just the only save file I had for Decay because it was the most hopeful outcome to me at the time. Because of that, when playing through Decay, everything felt so… business as usual. Things didn’t even feel as tense as they did in episode 2 when the paths diverged. This is, as a matter of fact, how I reacted for most of my first playthrough of the game. I didn’t see it as weird. It made sense. Nobody was really wrong here or making particularly bad decisions.

The only thing that caught me by surprise for the first half of it was when Andrew slapped Ashley, but I didn’t even feel like it was that shocking of a moment. Ashley has a chronic problem with taking things seriously, so I don’t think Andrew showing her what it means to take a threat of violence seriously is a particularly out of pocket response. However, it’s also not the only way to assert his identity as Andrew, because Burial showed us a better way for him to do the same: quiet dismissal with a confident assertion that ‘Andy’ is dead. Slapping her wasn’t the only way to get the point across, but it was -a- way, and I think it was important for Ashley to internalize it even though the slap was a simultaneous sign of strength AND weakness on Andrew’s end.

He didn’t need to play her game, but he did, and he managed to make it mean something.

The episode in general went through great lengths to show how unseriously Ashley takes her own actions. Which is a mood (she’s literally me, chat), for sure, but we’ve already seen that offhanded remarks by Ashley are enough to deeply sting Andrew.

This whole scene was an example of her not taking her own words seriously, by highlighting a dynamic we took for granted in prior episodes. Their endless back and forth is perceived as a harmless game by her. A lot of people perceived this dynamic as toxic back in prior chapters but it’s fairly common in long-term relationships. As someone who has a tendency of doing that myself- at least with friends- it makes social situations easier to navigate when I know that both of us are aware that the other person isn’t actually trying to hurt the other in a way that sticks. 

(I’m obviously not saying that their dynamic isn’t toxic, just that this one aspect of it is fairly normal and often taken uncharitably)

There are dozens upon dozens more examples than this but I assume that if I need to list them off to you then you haven’t actually played the game. I’m just listing this one because it’s useful for highlighting the way she views their dynamic.

Either way, Andrew isn’t having it this time, because he’s focusing harder on something he wanted from Ashley all along:

Respect.

Respect is a huge running theme in this episode, and the decision to accept being called Andrew or Andy is the make or break point for the route, and by proxy, their relationship. If Andrew decides to demand self-respect by asserting his identity as Andrew, then Ashley takes his request to not roast the camper seriously. But if he doesn’t demand to be called Andrew, then she does roast the camper. The implications of this decision are huge, but if you choose to be called Andy, he’s too much of a doormat at this point to show why it’s so important.

Accepting being called Andy gives Ashley permission to double down on all the worst aspects of their dynamic. There’s a lot to say about how Andrew reacts to this, but most of it is retreading old ground, because he’s made his issues with this and what it means to him abundantly clear already. What’s more interesting- to me- is how Ashley reacts. When Andrew reacts to “Why do you think it’s okay to hurt me?”, Ashley responds with… confusion.

"(It's) fine to stomp over every boundary I've ever set, isn't it?"

"I- uh...... wouldn't know."

She doesn’t get it. She genuinely doesn’t get it. She does not understand boundaries, flat-out. She has very few of her own, and therefore doesn’t see them in other people. Even when Andrew expressed boundaries to her in his past- the few times it actually happened- he quickly lowered them, never teaching her what they actually mean. While we don’t know for absolute certain because of how few flashbacks we’ve seen from her perspective, it seems like she’s never been held to account for transgressing a boundary.

Even when she’s slapped in the face, she doesn’t quite understand that it’s Andrew setting a boundary and showing self-respect. We see this later on with the argument she has with Andrew later in the episode:

"...............I stopped calling you Andy."

"Ooooh! Hallelujah! She hasn't called me by the wrong name for a few days! Mercy me, do I stand corrected! This must be love! And not just any love, but true love of the highest caliber!"

She thinks it’s just doing him a favor. She’s not respecting his boundaries at all. It’s something she’s GIVING to him.

With Ashley’s general inability to take things seriously in mind, and her lack of understanding of boundaries, I think there’s one more piece of the puzzle I need to explore before I can explain why I think things I really went to shit:

HOT

SIBLING

BREEDING!!!

Coffin is, still, even with Decay in mind, not making a statement on whether or not incest is good or bad. I can say that with full confidence. It's going further than that: it's using their incestuous relationship to highlight the ways in which the siblings interface with sexuality. Their more romantic, intimate moments are still portrayed as cute, and something that makes both of them happy. Physical affection stabilizes their relationship, and is something the two of them need to feel like things are okay. It doesn't hurt them.

...to a point.

Because she sure as fuck isn’t showing that it’s good, either.

In the Shoot/Dead End route (I'll be referring to this route as 3B from here on, and the cliffhanger route as 3A), their incestuous tendencies are unambiguously portrayed as a negative thing. Everything they do together makes one or both of them uncomfortable, unlike almost every other instance we see in every other route. But why? What's the difference between 3A and 3B?

Let's compare the scenes of intimacy between 3A and 3B:

In 3A, Andrew was slow, patient, and gentle, resulting in something that both Ashley and him enjoyed. They cracked a laugh, hugged each other, very cute, wholesome, and not at all weird if you don't look at the shared genetics behind the curtain.

But in 3B, he was sudden and forceful, resulting in something Ashley didn't enjoy. She tries to reciprocate but he pulls away shortly after, supposedly because she's not good at kissing, and also because he still feels gross about actually enjoying a sexual encounter with his little sister. Her reaction to this was visible confusion.

I want to establish my takes on these scenes now because I’m going to draw attention to them later on.

So, let’s recap:

Ashley doesn’t take things seriously enough. She doesn’t understand personal boundaries. She attempts to reciprocate affections and act with visible confusion when it’s rejected. What does this mean? I want everyone to hear me out on this before they respond with ‘well, no fucking shit Sherlock’, because this little fact about Ashley’s character goes far deeper and is more wide-reaching than many might think, at least given the kinds of analysis I see on this game:

Ashley treats life like a game. 

And I don’t mean that as a heavy-handed metaphor for her thinking everyone needs to be played and manipulated and that she has very little personal investment in anything that goes on. I mean she actually, literally, treats life like a game. Let me highlight something from the Q&A so I can explain just how important this really is:

“She doesn’t want to grow up”

“her fantasy of Andy and Leyley.”

When she calls Andrew Andy as a teenager:

"It's supposed to be endearing!! It's our secret game! I thought you liked that kind of thing."

You see where I’m going with this? Her whole dynamic with Andrew is part of that ‘secret game’ to her. It’s something she takes seriously, unlike everything else in life. Every deviation from it is merely doing him a favor. She’s allowing him to break the rules, if only temporarily. She doesn’t take many things seriously because she can’t emotionally grasp the significance of it. In her mind, she’s still a child. And for much of the story, no matter the route, she’s still playing that game with Andrew, no matter what’s at stake.

Ribbing at each other? Part of the game.

Their mutual displays of affection? Part of the game.

But boundaries? Those weren’t part of the rules.

This is why Ashley is so confused and distressed when none of ‘her’ games work on Andrew anymore.

The rules have changed. And she doesn’t understand them anymore.

Here lies the core differences between the routes in Decay. In 3A, Andrew is still willing to play that game with her. 

Just like in real life,

Just like with his peers, with his mom, with Julia,

Andrew knows how to pretend to play Ashley’s game.

He’s not quite aware it’s a game in the same ways as her, but he does know the sets of behaviors he can use to calm Ashley down. And as shown with the Entity, he’s extremely good at negotiating rules even when he’s not aware there’s a game at play. But he still doesn’t understand it as a game, and that’s where many of his frustrations come from (not to say Ashley is fully aware it’s a game either, but he’s even less aware than she is). Ashley doesn’t listen to him as often as he’d like because he’s not fully aware of the rules she expects them to operate under. Or perhaps, more accurately, not aware of what he has to do to change the rules rather than just create exceptions.

I don’t exactly know either, but I think it has something to do with how much gifts mean to Ashley. Keep in mind that all it takes is a wedding ring to avert the double suicide ending.

I think this proclivity for engaging with life as if it was a game might be why Ashley is said to be in-tune with the Demon Realm and enjoy their puzzles so much: everything has clear rules and conditions for winning or losing. Agreements are ironclad, and a deal is a deal. It’s a series of easy and somewhat predictable input->output mechanisms, as long as she’s precise with her desires. While the Entity is clearly manipulating her in some way, it’s yet to do so through lies, and she has been shown no reason to believe that it ever lies, outside of when it tells her highly emotionally inconvenient information.

(If your eyebrow rose when reading that, mine rose while typing it too, but I’m not here to diagnose anyone because that makes analysis less interesting and I literally wrote the essay on why people shouldn’t do that)

One detail I want to point out before tying this all back together is that games are something Ashley has appreciated from the absolute youngest we’ve ever seen her, before either of them did anything wrong: The flashback where they visited the grandparents. Andrew turning his pursuit of Ashley into a game was shown to instantly get her to behave better, as it’s given her clear and obvious rules to adhere to, and conditions to get something she wants, no strings attached. I wanted to point this out so I could establish that this is how she’s always been and not a pattern she fell into, because I need to emphasize just how pervasive games are to how Ashley interfaces with the world.

With Andrew, her ‘secret game’ becomes something different. 

Tying back into my first essay, the ‘games’ she plays are the framework with which she uses to feel in control of Andrew. They’re what her entire sense of safety is predicated on, and without the rules and reciprocal ‘play’ that comes with games, she loses any sense of emotional stability and becomes extremely volatile, confrontational, and sometimes violent. She’s not one who can function without an understanding of what’s going on, which is precisely why she lacks foresight and operates on intuition.

It’s not like she’s not trying, right? I’d like to present the scene where Andrew calls Julia with Ashley on the line.

At first, Ashley loses her shit and just barely manages to keep herself together. It really seems like an act of wanton cruelty on Andrew’s part, but it’s important to note that you get a star for this scene. You don’t get stars for scenes where their relationship deteriorates. So why do you get a star? She initially appeared upset, but the moment Andrew reframed it, her expression flipped, and she immediately became happy.

"So she can behave. Somewhat."

"Hmph! You dared to doubt me? Shame on you! Despite your underhanded bullshit, I emerge victorious!"

Andrew had to stop Ashley from yelling, and from hanging up, but Ashley managed to quiet down and stabilize herself enough to not loudly explode and get violent and uncontrollable.

And outside of where they were forced to be separated either to solve a puzzle or at the whims of the Entity, Andrew led her through every challenge they faced and she didn’t spend the whole time questioning his ability.

Why do you think we play as Andrew for the vast majority of the episode, even when they’re together?

She trusts his judgement more, even if she can’t quite understand (or at least vocalize) why. There’s a reason she roasts the camper in every route where this one interaction isn’t possible: Her desire to gain strength from eating people supersedes her trust in Andrew’s ability to handle difficult situations. She has to gain enough power for the both of them, or they’re fucked. But if Andrew has the strength to assert his identity as Andrew, maybe she doesn’t need to do all the heavy lifting.

(This is why I believe the star scenes are what they are. They’re not required to improve their relationship, but they ARE required for the necessary context to show why “the future” (as stated by the Entity in the Vision Room when he mentions them) is what it is.)

For a large part of the rest of the episode, we see a lot of smaller moments like this, where Ashley is at least trying to reach some kind of mutual understanding with Andrew and Andrew is trying to convey his actual feelings to Ashley, but the two of them keep speaking past each other because they simply do not understand the language that the other speaks. But what’s important is that their relationship manages to not deteriorate, and despite the vicious fighting, they still express a desire to understand the other when left to their own devices. By this point, I was feeling vindicated, as a lot of my initial analyses that were incredibly charitable to both siblings seemed to be at least somewhat correct and that I was right to give them the benefit of the d-....

Part 2: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

...-id Andrew just kill a fucking child in cold blood?!

I want to draw attention to the wording I used to describe how Ashley treats life as a game. I said she treats it as a game, not necessarily inexorably understands it as such. This is not a tendency she had no choice but to manifest; outside of being part of the way she manifests the Andy and Leyley fantasy, it’s also an emotional regulation tool that simplifies her interactions with the world. I want to specify this because I feel like, if I don’t, it might paint a picture of her being a helpless victim in a world that treats her poorly. Nor that growing up would solve her problems, and that she has no agency because she had no choice but to be this way. While I would never deny her nor Andrew victimhood of each other and the world around them, I also don’t want to confuse people into thinking that I don’t think they could’ve done better, and that I shouldn’t expect them to. Because the more I played through the game- and after finishing it, the more I thought about it- it became clearer and clearer that they could, because Andrew…

Holy shit, Andrew. Talk about dropping the pretense.

When the parents were sacrificed, Andrew- and his life- could never be normal again. The man realized that too, because nothing Ashley suggested registered as objectionable anymore. He offered so little resistance to killing the campers that it didn’t even sink in what kind of action that was. He was never much of a moral conscience to begin with, but from that point on, he stopped trying.

"Aaah, you know I can't say no to a family value pack."

Oh, Andrew, you wretched little shit. I get it now.

The thing about Andrew that I didn’t quite get last time is just how loose his grasp on the idea of normalcy actually was. It seemed like a central facet of his character and something he desperately wanted to hold on to at all costs, but now it looks much, much different. It wasn’t something he wanted to convince himself was true much past his teenage years, but the moment hormones started setting in, he made almost no effort to come to terms with his sexual desires. He made no attempt to distance himself from Ashley, to not project his fantasy on to Julia, or even to not peep at his sister in the shower.

‘Normal’ wasn’t something he wanted to be. It was a role he wanted to play.

At every chance he got, he fed into his darkest desires like an addict, and projected those fantasies on to Julia. He didn’t even bother trying to make space between him and Ashley; no, she had to do it for him, because she was mad at him. And the best part is, it wasn’t even good for him. 

As much as he tried to lie to himself, what he really wanted is to lie to others. Not once did he try to change himself in accordance with the person he wanted to be, and especially what others wanted him to be. Not once did he self-reflect about what he really wanted, or what would be best for him, or even Ashley, for that matter. He just wanted other people to shut up. Andrew was not a victim of his own impulses and desires. I really feel the need to emphasize just how messed up this man is; Without Ashley taking an active role in his life, he didn’t get better. He filled in the gaps in his heart by choosing to be worse.

Nemlei took subtext, turned it into text, and then turned that text into a baseball bat that she used to crack our skulls over and over again. He was never the ‘good person’ in their relationship, and never once tried to be.

And the worst part is that I fully understand and empathize with why.

There’s a funny thing that sometimes happens when you have impossible standards piled on to you and enforced through abuse and you’re denied a chance to ever be your own person: You fail to develop a coherent sense of identity. You latch on to anything that ‘seems’ right and predicate your whole sense of self on it. You need this sense of identity to navigate the world, so anything that threatens it is a threat to everything you know, and you respond to it in turn. Everything you do outside of that one core idea (or several ideas) becomes an act, a puppet show you play to placate others and serve your own ends. You can’t afford empathy or understanding to ‘threats’, because you’re too busy trying to protect what you ‘know’ you are. A threat to your world is a threat to your life, and so you respond by desperately doing whatever it takes to remove that threat. Sometimes lies, sometimes violence, of varying degrees of intensity depending on the threat.

Sometimes you learn to shut your feelings off.

Sometimes you learn to react too strongly.

Sometimes you learn that nobody else matters, because everyone else will just hurt you anyway.

You devalue people. You overvalue people. 

Anything to feel safe, anything to feel like the outside world is less of a threat. Anything to remove that threat, manage that threat, or protect the only thing in the world that matters to you, whether that thing is yourself, or someone else.

And for Andrew? It’s said to us in the beginning of episode 3:

Andy’s Leyley

Leyley’s Andy

Yeah, Nemlei. I get it. You understand. 

There’s another side to this coin, but I’ll get to that.

Not that this happens to everyone, but it absolutely happened to Andrew. The ‘role’ he was had forced upon him was that of Leyley’s _____. Her protector, teacher, parent, general caretaker. Her emotional regulator. Her brother.

Her everything.

It was all he could be. All he was allowed to be. Because the moment he diverged, he was punished greatly by Renee, and at some point, Ashley herself. He predicated his entire value system on being her ‘Andy’, to the point where every action he took that wasn’t part of the act he put on to attempt to interface with the world normally became for her.

It was all for her, because he was her _____. Anything to keep her under control, anything to keep her safe. 

One of the most notable examples of this is shown when Lord Unknown was attempting to give him therapy. When he started hearing how people spread rumors about how he slept with Ashley, and Douchebag told him that the people in Ashley’s class said that she spread them, he just glossed over this fact. So little attention is drawn to it that I actually missed it on my first playthrough. Instead, the first thing Andrew expressed internally was concern over whether or not she was being bullied; it didn’t even register in his mind that she was responsible for smearing his reputation. 

To him, she was never responsible for anything. She was his responsibility above all else. The incestuous rumors hardly mattered to him, and he kept finding holes in the story and pointing them out, such as how she didn’t have time to spread them early (since we saw them enter school together) in the day because she stood Douchebag up on a Friday, and how there was no way to catch them behind the auditorium ‘yesterday’ given it was a Monday. The presence of those holes is why I’m skeptical of whether or not she actually spread them, but it’s not like it’s something she wouldn’t do. More on that later.

Above all else, Andrew wasn’t concerned about how people saw him; he hardly even cared. He was upset mostly about people thinking that he’d take advantage of Ashley in that way. There was nothing weird to him about how clingy they were to each other, how affectionate they were, how protective he was.

Of course he was all that. Andrew was her brother. It was his job to be all that. It was his job to be her _____.

I’d like to present an alternate theory to the idea that Andrew dated Julia to appear normal. The theory isn’t mutually compatible with that, but it feels woefully incomplete.  Given the focus on bullying, the anger had over the idea that he’d ever hurt her, and the fact that sexual feelings started creeping in his mind thanks to the magical curse of teenage hormones, I believe the primary reason he dated Julia was so that he could prove to others- and himself- that he would never hurt his precious Ashley. Not in that way, not at all. It was everything he predicated his sense of identity on. It was what he had to be, above all else.

So in order to protect his ‘role’, his identity, he chose something he, deep down, knew would hurt her, because nobody could ever be led to believe that he’d take advantage of her like that.

Especially himself.

Appearing normal to others was a pleasant side-effect of this, and if he could convince himself he loved Julia, he’d never have to add ‘boyfriend’ to the list of things he had to be for Ashley.

Hahahaha, whoops. 

Surprise! It was the thing he actually wanted to be for her the most! 

Teenage hormones are an awful thing, aren’t they? In realizing that he had sexual feelings for Ashley, he finally found something he’d actually enjoy being for her! 

And it was something he could never be, lest it risk everything else he thought of himself as being for her!

Oh, the wretched irony of sexual desire. I could never.

Which way, western man? Everything you think you should be, or the one thing you actually want to be?

Andrew tries to have it both ways, but, y’know how that went. No attempt to rein in these desires, projecting his sister on his girlfriend, etc etc. Already been over that. But now I can highlight why I believe he got worse and kept feeding into his desires; the closest thing to a moral conscience he had- his identity as Leyley’s _____- takes a step out of his life for reasons I’ll cover when I cover how much of a fuck up she actually is. 

What, you thought I’d skip over her just because I was- and still am- her number one defender? Oh no no. Now that I know better than to give these losers (that I love very dearly and desire nothing but happiness for) so much charitability, I have a lot to say about her too. But back to Andrew.

Without that sense of personal identity- without his proximity to Ashley- he sees no reason not to give into his desires, watch her while she dresses, and project all of his most sexual fantasies on to Julia. His interactions with Ashley were, as fucked up as it is, grounding to him. They stabilize him, give him a reason to act right that isn’t just a facade. With that, he has nothing. Nothing except his facade of normalcy.

I think the year-long gap between his interactions with Ashley are precisely the reason why ‘normalcy’ became so important to him. It became a second sense of identity that conflicted with what he predicated his identity on before. He could finally emulate being a somewhat normal person, with a somewhat normal attachment to a somewhat normal person. Horray! But the prior identity still existed. It never went away. Ashley was where his heart was, and trying to give it to someone else only hollowed out what was there before.

This one CG speaks louder than any words the man has ever spoken, up to this point.

These are not the eyes of someone who is merely depressed. These are the eyes of someone who is confronting the idea of living a life without the only thing that ever gave him meaning.

He can’t even make eye contact with himself, because there’s nothing there.

Andrew, without Ashley, is a hollow husk of a man who starts to crumble the more he tries to convince himself he could be anything other than her everything.

She is the light of his life. The nightmarish, toxic, corrosive light of his life.

(cont. in next post)

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 3

paige x azzi

warning: mentions car accident

word count: 10.3k

A/N: I have literally never written anything like this so I hope it comes across correctly. I swear some of your answers are in this chapter just be patient. Let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

3rd Person POV - Friday

The morning light filtered softly through the hotel curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Azzi blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the bright rays filing in, slowly waking her up to the quiet stillness of the room. Her gaze naturally drifted to Paige, who was still fast asleep beside her, the steadiness of her breathing reflecting her deep slumber.

Azzi watched her for a moment, taking in the sight of her in a way she hadn’t been able to before. The blanket had shifted considerably, low on Paige’s waist, and she was lying on her stomach, her hair a little messy on the pillow. Azzi’s gaze softened as she noticed how naturally beautiful Paige was, the little details that made her feel more real, more alive. The sunlight caught in Paige’s hair, highlighting certain strands that framed her face, even in her sleep.

Her eyes traced the sharpness of Paige's jaw, the arch of her nose, the curve of her lips that were relaxed in slumber. As Azzi looked at her she noticed that there was a scar, small and barely visible, near Paige's hairline. Azzi’s finger itched to trace it, to figure out the story associated with it, but she stayed still, careful not to disturb her. The quiet intimacy of the moment was too precious to ruin with a thoughtless action like that.

Her gaze moved lower, her eyes looking at the scar on Paige’s torso—the one from last night. It was more visible when Paige was facing her, but now, with her turned on her stomach, Azzi could only make out a small portion of it, curving along her side and reaching toward her back just slightly.

In the stillness, Azzi felt the weight of the moment, the growing sense of curiosity she had about Paige. She realized, then, just how little she truly knew about her—the person she had shared what felt like many lingering moments with in the past few days. Still, there were so many layers left to explore, so much left to understand.

It wasn’t lost on Azzi how much she wanted to know, how much she yearned to unravel the mysteries that Paige held beneath the surface. It felt like the beginning of something important, something bigger than just a random night in a hotel room. For now, though Azzi was content to just be here, beside her, breathing in the quietness of the morning as she gathered her thoughts.

Azzi lay there for a moment longer, watching Paige as she slept, it was all so peaceful. It felt weird, she could’ve stayed in that moment forever, but after a while, Azzi shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Paige. She slowly reached over the edge of the bed to grab her phone from her pocket, making sure not to make too much noise.

She unlocked it and couldn’t help but chuckle when she saw a text from Caroline pop up first: You still alive? Hope it was good.” Azzi typed a reply, “Yes, I’m alive and please relax.” A few more notifications popped up and Azzi spent a few minutes responding, her fingers moving across the screen.

The next time she glanced over at Paige, she noticed the subtle shift in her posture. Paige’s eyelids fluttered a little, and the quiet signs of waking up were starting to show. Azzi couldn’t help but smile to herself, lowering her phone as Paige slowly began to blink her eyes open.

Paige squinted slightly, clearly still adjusting to the morning light that filtered in through the window. Her eyes, that seemed to be a deeper blue with the way the sun was hitting them, met Azzi’s, a soft glimmer of awareness and curiosity in them. There was something so serene about the way Paige looked at her, a sense of familiarity already settling in, even though they had only known each other for such a short time.

Paige stretched a little, still blinking as she finally spoke in a raspy morning voice, “Morning.” She looked at Azzi for a beat longer, still processing the shift from sleep to reality.

Azzi couldn’t help but grin, the corners of her mouth moving upward as she replied, “Morning. You look like you just got out of a coma.”

Paige’s lips twitched, her eyes still half-lidded as she fought a smile. “Yeah? You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Azzi laughed softly, the moment between them feeling more natural than anything they had shared before. The tension that had once seemed so thick between them now seemed to have lifted, replaced with something lighter.

Paige’s gaze flickered to Azzi’s phone, still in her hand. “Telling your friends how good I was already?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Sure something like that,” she replied playfully. She lowered the phone and moved it to the side before she turned back to Paige. “So, how’d you sleep?”

Paige stretched once more, the slight stretch of her body revealing more of the scar near her side that Azzi had seen the night before.

"Like a rock," Paige said, her voice still a little horse. "You?" she asked, turning to Azzi who had the sheet covering her chest.

Azzi chuckled. "Yeah, better than I’ve slept in a while."

Paige kept her gaze fixed on Azzi, still lying there with her head on the pillow. "So, what now?"

Azzi smiled a little, the corners of her lips curling up. "I was hoping you'd know."

Paige returned the smile, raising an eyebrow. "Me? I thought you were the one with all the answers."

Azzi shrugged, not answering right away. Instead, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "What time is your flight?"

"6:15," Paige replied.

Azzi hummed quietly, not saying anything else for a moment as she just looked straight ahead. Paige, still looking at her, propped her head up with her hand, studying Azzi’s profile as her eyes danced over Azzi’s face.

Azzi shifted slightly, meeting Paige’s gaze again. "Stop looking at me like that."

Paige grinned. "Like what?"

Azzi let out a soft sigh. "Like you just had sex with me last night."

Paige laughed softly, the sound completely unguarded. "I did have sex with you last night."

Azzi smirked, shaking her head completely at a loss for words. The atmosphere between them felt so easy.

Randomly Azzi says, “Tell me something about you.”

Paige chuckled as she sat up, her shoulder brushing against Azzi’s. “What do you want to know?” she asked, her amusement with the question clear.

Azzi shrugged, her brown eyes warm but curious. “Anything.”

Paige thought for a moment, tilting her head slightly before offering, “Um…Well I’m 22.”

Azzi immediately cut in, unimpressed. “That’s boring, and I already know that.”

Paige laughed. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azzi smirked, motioning for her to continue. “Alright, go on.”

Paige licked her lips, thinking for another second before continuing, “I’m 22. My birthday is October 20th. Um… I like purple.” She trailed off, her mind suddenly blank on what else to add.

Azzi gave her an exaggerated look before deadpanning, “Wow. I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

Paige scoffed, shoving Azzi’s arm playfully. “Shut up.”

Azzi grinned, shaking her head. “I’m serious, that was definitely life-changing information.”

Before Paige could respond her phone ringing cut off her thought process, making both Paige and Azzi glance toward the desk where it was sitting. Paige sighed before pushing herself up, stretching her arms over her head as she walked over in just her boxers and sports bra. Azzi’s eyes lingered for a moment, biting her lip slightly as she took in the way the light outlined the toned muscles of her back.

Paige glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hello.”

Azzi stayed in bed, half-listening as she tried to piece together the conversation once she heard Geno’s voice. She could hear his voice through the speaker, though not clearly enough to make out every word. Something about wanting Paige to come by campus for a bit before her flight since she didn’t have much time to officially meet the team and hangout with them yesterday. Paige hummed in response here and there, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk when she noticed Azzi watching her.

Paige hung up a few moments later, still smiling as she turned back toward the bed. Before she could explain, Azzi’s phone started ringing. She frowned when she saw Geno’s name on the screen, glancing at Paige, who shrugged before disappearing into the bathroom.

Azzi exhaled and answered. “Hey, Coach.”

“Paige is coming to campus in about 20 minutes. I’m sending her your number so she can call you when she gets there. Make sure she feels comfortable,” Geno instructed, his voice casual yet expectant.

Azzi bit back a smile even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I got it. Don’t worry.”

Geno seemed satisfied with that and ended the call. Azzi sighed, tossing her phone on the bed before standing up and stretching. While looking for her shirt her eyes landed on Paige’s black oversized shirt from yesterday, thrown over the chair. Without thinking much of it, she grabbed it and slipped it on. It was small, but she caught a faint trace of Paige’s scent on the fabric and it felt strangely intimate. As if they hadn’t just woken up in the same bed.

She walked toward the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as she watched Paige brush her teeth.

Paige caught Azzi’s reflection in the mirror, her gaze flickering down to the black shirt draped over Azzi’s frame before meeting her eyes again. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she mumbled through the toothpaste, “Looks good on you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, shifting her weight against the doorframe. “Please don’t start.”

Paige chuckled, spitting into the sink before rinsing her mouth. She turned around, leaning back on the counter as she reached for the towel. “I’m just saying.”

Azzi scoffed, but there was a slight tug at her lips, betraying what she was about to say. “Don’t get used to it.”

Paige just smirked, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Azzi like she knew something she wasn’t saying. Azzi held her gaze for a moment before shaking her head, pushing off the doorframe. “Hurry up,” she said, turning back toward the bed. “I’m not gonna be the reason you’re late.”

Paige watched her go, her smirk still lingering as she wiped her face.

Paige walked out of the bathroom and settled for throwing on a hoodie and a pair of sweats. Turning back toward the bed, she grabbed an extra pair of sweatpants and some boxers and tossed them to Azzi.

Azzi caught them easily saying. “Thank you,” as she slipped them on.

Once they were both ready and Azzi grabbed all of her clothes, they stepped out of Paige’s room.

When they got outside there was a slight breeze as they made their way to Caroline’s car. Azzi unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat while Paige got in the passenger seat, a lingering smile still tugging at her lips.

Azzi caught the look and sighed, shaking her head as she started the car. “You’re still smirking.”

Paige shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look before exhaling a small laugh. “You don’t have to, it's litrally all over your face.”

Paige chuckled but didn’t say anything else, letting the conversation fade into a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the car filling the space between them as they drove toward campus.

When they arrived, Azzi pulled into Caroline’s usual parking spot and turned off the engine. They stepped out, making their way up the stairs to Azzi’s suite.

The second Azzi pushed open the door, she was met with Caroline and Ice lounging on the couch. Both of them took one look at her, eyes dropping to the clothes in her hand before flicking to the shirt and sweats she was wearing. Matching smirks immediately spread across both of their faces.

Azzi paused for half a second before exhaling through her nose, already regretting the situation.

Paige followed, moving into view just enough to lift a hand in a wordless acknowledgment. Ice and Caroline’s eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly not expecting to see her here, both of them thankful they kept their mouths shut for a second.

Azzi kept her expression neutral as she said, “Geno wants us all to hang out with her today before she leaves.”

They both nodded, but the smirks never left their faces. Azzi didn’t entertain it, instead glancing at Paige for a second. She immediately noticed the shift—how Paige’s energy had seemed to dim. Her entire demeanor was more reserved now, quieter, a stark contrast to how she’d been that morning in the hotel of just moments ago in the car.

Azzi frowned slightly before saying, “You can just come with me until the rest of them get here.”

Paige met her eyes briefly before nodding, following Azzi deeper into the suite and into her room.

When they got to Azzi’s room, she shut the door behind her while Paige settled into the chair in front of her desk. Azzi moved to her closet, tossing her clothes inside before straightening up and turning back toward Paige.

Paige was looking around, taking in the space with quiet curiosity. Azzi leaned against the closet door, watching her for a moment before asking, “Is it what you expected?”

Paige glanced at her and nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

Azzi chuckled, grabbing her phone and sending a message to the group chat, telling them all to come to her suite courtesy of Geno. Almost instantly, the message started getting likes, but she didn’t linger on it. Placing her phone down, she looked back at Paige.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and make myself presentable,” Azzi said.

Paige gave a small nod, and with that, Azzi slipped out of the room, making sure she shut the door behind her.

Left alone, Paige let out a soft exhale, her gaze drifting across the room until it landed on a corkboard hanging on the wall. It was filled with pictures—Azzi’s life in high school and college. Paige leaned forward slightly, eyes tracing over the pictures, and before she realized it, a small smile had formed on her lips.

When Azzi returned from the bathroom, her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. She shut the door behind her again and moved to lean against the desk, standing just a few inches from where Paige was sitting, her leg brushing against Paige’s knee.

Paige glanced up at her, eyes flicking to her hair before smirking slightly. “Cute.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Me or the bun?”

Paige shrugged. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the way her lips twitched. “You’re lucky you’re charming.”

Paige leaned back in the chair, spreading her legs a bit more. “I know.”

Azzi gave her a look, smiling at her. “Oh, you’re back now, huh?”

Paige tilted her head. “Back?”

Azzi motioned toward the door with her chin. “You got a little stoic out there.”

Paige exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Just wasn’t in the mood to be the center of attention first thing in the morning to strangers.”

Azzi studied her for a moment before nudging her knee with her own. “Well, it’s just us now.”

Paige grinned up at her. “Yeah?” Paige licked her lips as she looked up at Azzi, “So what you wanna do about it?”

Azzi shook her head, biting her lip slightly to stop a smile. “I should’ve left you in the hotel.”

Paige chuckled, tilting her head back against the chair as she looked up at Azzi. “Too late now.”

“Unfortunately.”

Paige kept her eyes on Azzi, her gaze unwavering. It made Azzi shift slightly, the intensity of it throwing her off.

“Stop,” Azzi muttered

Paige raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"

"You’ve had that look on your face since you woke up."

Paige just hummed in response, the smirk never leaving her lips as she continued looking up at Azzi.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking?”

Paige slouched further against the chair, her legs spread slightly, and lazily shook her head. “No.”

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, just studied her, trying to decipher whatever was running through her mind. Paige, still lounging effortlessly, absentmindedly started playing with the hem of her shirt that Azzi was wearing.

Azzi glanced down at her hand before raising an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she swatted Paige’s hand away.

Paige scoffed at the action.

From down the hall, the sound of voices grew louder, the unmistakable clamor of the team filling the suite.

“I think the team’s here,” Azzi murmured, straightening up from the desk as she glanced toward the door.

Paige didn’t respond. Instead she took a moment before she stood up, immediately in Azzi’s space—close enough that Azzi could feel the warmth radiating off her. They both noticed the closeness but neither of them moved, locked in a quiet stare.

Azzi looked Paige up and down with a small smirk playing on her face. “You know if you want to–”

KK’s voice rang out through the suite and interrupted whatever Azzi was about to say, “Azzi, stop hogging the recruit!”

Azzi chuckled, while Paige simply exhaled through her nose. Without a word, she stepped back, casually shoving her hands into her pockets before following Azzi out of the room.

As they stepped out of Azzi’s room, the noise in the suite became more apparent. The team was already gathered, everyone lounging in comfortable clothes—sweats, sweatshirts, sneakers—looking relaxed. No one made any formal introductions again, but the moment Paige stepped into the living room, the attention shifted to her. They all greeted her, some with friendly smiles and others with more playful words trying to immediately make her feel comfortable, but the ease of the atmosphere didn’t seem to reach Paige fully as she sat down on the couch and Azzi walked to the other side of the room.

As soon as Paige sat down KK took a seat next to her, KK’s natural energy radiating off of her as she looked at Paige. “So,” KK said, trying to strike up a conversation, “What makes you not boring like everybody else? Gimme something good.”

Paige glanced over at her, her lips curling up in a small, reserved smile. “Um, I don’t know,” she said, shrugging slightly. “I play basketball. That’s pretty much it.”

KK groaned but pressed on. “Okay, but what do you like to do when you’re not playing? There has to be something interesting about you.”

Paige didn’t answer right away, her gaze flicking to the others in the room as if searching for something to latch onto. Finally, she let out a breath and gave a half-smile, her eyes momentarily flicking back to Azzi who was standing by the counter. “I don’t have much time for hobbies these days honestly. Mostly just rehab and working out, been doing a lot of visits and when I’m not doing any of those I watch my team practice. Homework I don’t know.”

Aubrey nodded, chiming into the conversation. “That’s fair,” she said. “But I mean, everyone has something outside basketball, right? You like any movies or music? Come on, give us something. You sound like a robot dawg.”

Paige’s jaw tightened slightly, and she leaned back a little more on the couch, her posture still casual but distant. “I mean yeah I like music. R&B, mostly, a little of everything though” she replied, her voice steady but a little guarded.

The conversation kept going, but it was clear that Paige wasn’t opening up much. She was here physically, but emotionally she was closed off. There was confidence in her responses—no hesitation, no awkwardness—but not much more. She didn’t offer much beyond what was necessary to keep the conversation moving or to answer direct questions they asked her.

Azzi caught the shift in Paige’s demeanor the moment she looked over and saw Paige staring off into space, her finger absentmindedly spinning the ring on her hand. It was subtle, but Azzi noticed. Azzi pushed off the counter, excusing herself from the conversation with Ashlynn and Jana, and made her way over to where Paige was sitting on the couch.

She lowered herself into the seat next to her, close enough that their legs brushed together.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”

Paige blinked, breaking out of her thoughts, and her eyes slowly shifted over to Azzi. A faint smile appeared on her face. She shook her head. “Nothing much.”

Azzi didn’t buy it. “I don’t believe you,” she said simply.

Paige chuckled, a small and unconvincing sound, before her gaze shifted back to the group as the noise around them seemed to fill the air.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Paige quickly shook her head. “Not uncomfortable, just… not much to say really.”

Azzi muttered under her breath, almost too quietly to hear, but Paige caught it. “You sure had a lot to say last night.”

Paige chuckled at this, tilting her head slightly as she met Azzi’s gaze. “I don’t think you wanna get into that with me right now,” she murmured.

Azzi held her gaze, her lips twitching, but before either of them could push further, a voice cut through the moment.

“Yo, Paige!” Aubrey called from across the room.

Paige let the stare linger for a second longer before finally tearing her eyes away, turning toward Aubrey. “Yeah?”

“How tall are you?” Aubrey asked, her expression unreadable.

Paige blinked, thrown off by the random question. “Six foot.”

Aubrey nodded. “You can shoot?”

Paige huffed a small laugh, still confused but playing along. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Aubrey simply nodded again and went right back to her conversation, as if she hadn’t just stopped the room to ask.

Paige frowned slightly, looking over at Azzi, who just shrugged.

Paige’s time with the team went like this for about another hour—mostly talking to Azzi, though every now and then, someone would chime in with a random question that Paige would answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to talk to people. She just didn’t do well with new people, with people she didn’t know. Simply because she didn’t like small talk much. It was one of her pet peeves that had formed some time ago when her step mom would force her to talk through the pain in her ribs with pointless questions and comments.

After a few hours of chilling with the team it was time for Paige to head back to her hotel so she could go to the airport. She stretched slightly as she stood up, glancing at Azzi, who was already watching her.

“You heading out?” Azzi asked.

Paige nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Paige didn’t argue, just slipped her hands into her pockets as she followed Azzi toward the door bidding goodbye to everyone before they walked out.

The two of them stood outside waiting for Paige’s uber not saying much. Paige rocked back on her heels, hands in her pockets, glancing at Azzi, who was leaning against the railing, arms crossed.

Azzi glanced at Paige. “So.”

Paige smiled softly, tilting her head. “So.”

Azzi exhaled, watching her carefully. “When are you making your decision?”

“I have to visit a few more schools first,” she admitted. “But soon.”

Azzi hummed at this, nodding slightly. Before either of them could say anything else, the Uber pulled up. Paige stood there for a second, looking at Azzi, searching for something in her expression. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“How do you wanna play this?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now.

Azzi shrugged, her face unreadable.

Paige smiled at that before stepping forward, pulling Azzi into a hug. It was brief but firm, lingering just long enough before they pulled away.

Azzi met her eyes. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Paige smirked. “You have my number Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually going to text back?”

Paige shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “You aren’t as mysterious anymore. So your little ominous comments don’t work.”

Paige laughed at that, reaching for the car door. “I’ll text you.”

Azzi crossed her arms, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ll text back.”

Paige met her gaze one last time, her expression softer now. “I’ll see you soon, Azzi.”

With that, she slid into the Uber, shutting the door behind her. Azzi stood there, watching as the car pulled away, her arms still crossed, her smile lingering, before she walked back upstairs.

…

After that day, Paige and Azzi kept in touch—not constantly, but enough. Their conversations were never rushed, never forced. A text here and there, one of them sending something random. Azzi sending a meme, Paige sending a highlight clip, both of them sending song recommendations that neither of them ever admitted to actually listening to.

Their texts always stretched over days. It would start off as a constant back and forth, but then one of them would respond hours later, sometimes even the next day, but neither ever seemed to mind. Azzi would send something sarcastic, Paige would respond with something equally dry, and it would spiral into playful messages until one of them finally let it die out—only for another conversation to start days later in the same effortless way.

What surprised Azzi the most during this time was that Paige always answered her FaceTime calls. She’d roll her eyes and act inconvenienced, but she never ignored them. “I told you I don’t like FaceTime,” she’d say when she picked up, usually lying in bed or at a random gym. Azzi would just smirk, tilting her head. “Then why do you always answer?”

Paige never had a real answer for that. She’d just shake her head, fighting a small smile before changing the subject.

Through these scattered conversations, Azzi learned more about Paige. She found out that Paige was at a small Division II school in Minnesota, though she rarely talked about it unless Azzi pried, mumbling about how Azzi asked way too many questions. Azzi learned that Paige hadn’t played her freshman year because of the accident, and after tearing her ACL this past year, she still had two years of eligibility left. Though she planned to use just one—coaches seemed to think that was all she needed to prove that she could still perform on the big stage.

Azzi also learned little things. Like how Paige always listened to music when she couldn’t sleep, nothing too loud, just playing softly in the background so she could listen to the lyrics instead of all the random thoughts swirling in her head. She learned how Paige had a habit of spinning the ring on her finger when she was thinking or when she got a little nervous or uncomfortable. How she spaced off in the middle of conversations and came back to earth like nothing happened. How she only drank coffee if she was desperate, otherwise she stuck to water or the occasional shirley temple.

It was a slow process, getting to know her. Paige didn’t just offer things up freely, but Azzi didn’t mind the wait. The more Paige revealed, the more Azzi realized that, beneath all that confidence and “mystery,” she was someone who chose her words carefully. Someone who didn’t say things unless she meant them.

Paige learned about Azzi just as Azzi had learned about her.

It was almost effortless—Azzi carried most of their conversations, filling in the silences that Paige left behind. That was the first thing Paige realized: Azzi wasn’t necessarily talkative, but with her, she was. Because she knew Paige wouldn’t speak much unless she was eased into it first. If they were ever on FaceTime around Azzi’s team they were the one’s talking and yelling while Azzi usually just sat there offering a small comment here and there.

Paige learned that, despite being one of the healthiest people she had ever met, Azzi had an undeniable sweet tooth—so much so that if she could, she’d probably marry a sweet treat. Paige learned that Azzi loved to read, losing herself in books when she needed a break from the world. She learned that Azzi loved talking about the books she was reading when she was done, even when Paige had no idea what she was talking about most of the time.

She learned about Stewie, Azzi’s dog, and how just talking about him could make Azzi light up. Paige learned about the little things—the things that made Azzi smile, the things that made her laugh, the things that made her feel at home when she was away at school and missed her family.

And now, about a month or so later, they were about to see each other again.

Azzi hadn’t expected to see Paige. As far as she knew, Paige was still making her rounds, visiting schools, weighing her options. They had texted earlier in the day like usual—short, easy messages that stretched over time—but Paige hadn’t mentioned anything about being at the game.

The arena was loud, packed with energy as UConn went through their usual warmups. The rhythm of bouncing basketballs, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, and the music blaring through the speakers filled the space. Azzi was locked in, focused on her silent routine, until a glance toward USC’s bench made her freeze for half a second and do a double take.

Paige was there. Sitting just behind their bench, in nearly the same spot she had been when she watched UConn play before.

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her grip tightening around the ball in her hands as she tried to process the sight. Paige, of all people, at the USC game—against UConn, no less.

Paige, of course, had seen Azzi notice her. And, because she was Paige, she smirked, leaning back slightly in her seat when she caught Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi blinked, exhaling a short breath as she shook her head, trying to fight the smile tugging at her lips. This girl.

…

From the moment the ball tipped off Azzi spent the entire game battling against USC’s defense, which had clearly done its homework on the shooting guard. Every time she tried to move off the ball, two defenders shadowed her. Every screen she ran around, they fought through, or two people jumped at her. UConn’s offense, usually fluid and dynamic with the ball in her hands, felt a little stagnant without her usual rhythm.

Paige could see it—the way Azzi’s frustration built with every contested shot, every missed opportunity. She wasn’t playing badly by any means, but she wasn’t playing as freely as she usually did. From where Paige was sitting, she could see ways Azzi could create more space for herself. Small adjustments, little shifts in movement that could’ve made a difference. But all she could do was sit there and watch it unfold behind USC’s bench.

The game was tight all the way through, every possession feeling heavier as the clock wound down. But in the final minutes, USC managed to stay just a step ahead.

When the buzzer finally sounded, the scoreboard read 83-79 in USC’s favor.

The home crowd erupted in celebration while UConn’s players sighed, some shaking their heads, others already replaying the game in their minds. Azzi, standing near the baseline, exhaled sharply, hands on her hips as she looked up at the scoreboard.

From her seat behind USC’s bench, Paige simply watched it all unfold.

A few minutes after the game, once the immediate post-game chaos settled, Paige and Azzi finally made their way toward each other. Paige had stepped away from the crowd, having a few moments to herself while USC went to have their post-game talk. Azzi, fresh off the handshake line, was still coming down from the intensity of the game.

"You didn’t tell me you were coming," Azzi said as soon as they were close enough. The fans near them yelling to get Azzi’s attention.

Paige let out a soft laugh. "You always lead with something I don’t expect. Never a hello."

Azzi shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I don’t have a lot of time," she admitted, glancing over her shoulder toward the tunnel, where her teammates were heading in. "But I wanted to see where you were staying."

"The Marriott, a few minutes from here," Paige answered easily.

Azzi hummed at this. "Hm. Us too."

Paige chuckled, tilting her head slightly. "Guess I’ll see you later, then."

Azzi was about to respond, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the final straggler from her team disappear into the tunnel. She knew she couldn’t afford to linger any longer, especially after a loss. Exhaling softly, she glanced back at Paige.

"I’ll text you," Azzi said instead.

Paige gave her a small nod. Azzi held her gaze for just a second longer before turning and walking toward the locker room.

…

Later that night, Paige was lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, when a soft knock echoed through her hotel room. She blinked at the door before pushing herself up, already knowing who it was but still peeking through the peephole out of habit.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she swung the door open, revealing Azzi standing on the other side in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. Paige’s gaze dropped to the shorts, taking in the tiny red hearts printed across them.

“Nice hearts,” Paige teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips as she reached out and shoved Paige’s shoulder—though Paige barely moved.

Without another word, Azzi stepped inside, her expression expectant as she looked at Paige. Paige furrowed her brows slightly before realization dawned on her features. Without hesitation, she reached out, wrapping Azzi in a long, lingering hug.

Azzi let out a quiet sigh as Paige wrapped her arms around her, melting into the hug like it was exactly what she needed. Paige held her close, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, feeling the tension still lingering in her body from the game.

"Long day?" Paige murmured.

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. "You could say that."

Paige smiled, pulling back just enough to look at her. "So, what? You came all the way up here just for a hug?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow. "Would that be weird?"

Paige shrugged. "Nah. I get it. I’m me."

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she wandered further into the room, glancing around before flopping down onto Paige’s bed like she’d done it a hundred times before. Paige smirked at this.

"You make yourself at home real quick, huh?"

Azzi glanced up at her. "Well, you did say you’d see me later."

Paige huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head before pushing off the wall and making her way toward the bed. She sat at the edge, glancing over at Azzi, who was already sprawled out against the pillows, arms tucked behind her head, looking completely at ease.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Paige. “How’d I play?”

Paige shrugged before shifting to lay beside her, mirroring her position. “Pretty good.”

Azzi arched her brow. “Not great?”

Paige shook her head. “No, not great.”

Azzi sighed, tilting her head back against the pillows as she mumbled “I hate basketball sometimes.”

Paige turned her head slightly, studying her before adding, “Their defense was basically ‘anyone but Azzi Fudd’ so don’t think about it too much.”

Azzi let out a quiet groan, staring up at the ceiling. "Tell me about it," she muttered. "Felt like they had three people trailing me at all times."

Paige turned her head slightly, glancing at her. "They did," she confirmed. "But you were still getting good looks. You just weren't creating enough space."

Azzi gave her a side-eye. "Oh, so now you're my coach?"

Paige laughed. "I'm just saying, I saw a few ways you could’ve gotten open."

Azzi rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. "Yeah? Like what?"

Paige mirrored her, facing Azzi. "Couple times, you could’ve used your off-ball movement better. They were biting hard on screens—if you slipped off quicker, you would've had more separation. I don’t know if you had anyone to make the pass but still. And when you did get the ball, you hesitated just a little too long. You let them recover."

Azzi stared at her for a moment, her competitive nature flaring just slightly. "You really sat there analyzing me the whole game, huh?"

Paige smirked. "What else was I supposed to do? Watch USC?"

Azzi scoffed. "Yeah, actually."

Paige chuckled, nudging Azzi’s arm with her elbow. "Seriously though, you played well. USC just had a good scouting report."

Azzi sighed, rolling onto her back again. "Yeah. Sucks, though."

"Would've helped if you had a more consistent shooter."

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, raising an eyebrow. "Ashlynn can shoot."

Paige shrugged. "She can, But if she doesn’t make her first few shots, she’s nonexistent the rest of the game."

Azzi hummed at this but didn’t argue, staring up at the ceiling in thought. After a while she tilted her head to look at Paige who was just staring at the ceiling now. Azzi propped her head up on her hand again as she said, “Enough about me. How was your visit?”

Paige shrugged, not offering anything more.

Azzi gave her a pointed look. "How many times do I have to tell you? Shrugging isn’t a proper form of communicating."

Paige chuckled, finally breaking her silence. "It was alright, I guess."

Azzi narrowed her eyes. "Wow. Raving review. So... USC’s out of the running?"

Paige nodded. "Yeah."

Azzi hummed, studying her. "That was quick."

Paige smiled slightly. "I know what I want."

Azzi tilted her head. "And USC wasn’t it?"

Paige shook her head. "Not even close."

Azzi’s lips curled slightly, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she just traced Paige’s arm with her fingers. "Guess that means you’re running out of options, huh?"

Paige glanced down at her arm where Azzi was touching before saying. "Guess so."

Azzi shifted slightly, resting her cheek against her palm as she eyed Paige. “How many do you have left?”

Paige knew what she was asking—how many visits, how many schools still in consideration. She exhaled softly. “Two.”

Azzi nodded, her fingers idly playing with the string of her hoodie. “Are you actually considering them?”

Paige turned her head, meeting Azzi’s gaze for a brief moment before answering. “Not really…I have to go, though.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Paige laughed. “Because they’ll report all the other schools to the NCAA if I don’t.”

Azzi let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You really have schools breaking rules for these ‘unofficial’ visits?”

Paige just chuckled, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess I’m a hot commodity.”

Azzi laughed at this and the room settled into a quiet stillness, the only sound the faint hum of the hotel’s air conditioning. Paige’s eyes flickered over Azzi’s face, taking in the way the dim light softened her features, the way her lips parted slightly like she had something to say but was hesitating. Azzi, normally composed, seemed almost hesitant now, her fingers playing with the string of her hoodie as she held Paige’s gaze.

Finally, Azzi exhaled. “Can I kiss you?”

Paige smiled a little at the question and gave a small nod.

With the confirmation, Azzi closed the distance between them, her fingers brushing gently against Paige’s jaw before tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a slow kiss. Paige exhaled steadily against Azzi, her hands finding their place on Azzi’s hips.

Not long after the kiss started Azzi tilted her head, deepening it, and Paige followed her lead, nipping at Azzi’s bottom lip just enough to make her sigh.

The sound sent a warmth through Paige’s chest, and before she could process it, Azzi shifted forward instinctively, settling more comfortably in Paige’s lap, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Paige’s waist.

Paige’s hands slid upward, fingertips grazing the skin just beneath Azzi’s hoodie, tracing patterns. After some time, Azzi pulled back slightly, her lips parting as she exhaled.

“We can’t,” she murmured, her voice breathy but firm.

Paige, still beneath her, let out a low chuckle, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Azzi’s waist. “I know.”

Azzi blinked, slightly thrown off by Paige’s lack of protest. “You know?”

Paige nodded, her blue eyes flickering with amusement as she tilted her head back against the pillows. “Yeah. You spent all day yesterday texting me about how bad your cramps were,” she reminded her. “And how none of this actually makes sense because men are the ones with Adam’s apples.”

Azzi huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head as she sat back a little, still straddling Paige. “Hm. I sure did say that.”

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, her fingers still lazily circling Azzi’s waist, her touch lingering. She was looking at Azzi in the way she seemed to do a lot lately—like she had her completely figured out.

Azzi shifted slightly, her gaze flickering between Paige’s eyes as she noticed the way Paige was just… staring at her. Not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but in a way that made her feel like Paige was seeing right through her—like she was memorizing her, like she was thinking about something she wouldn’t say out loud.

Azzi’s voice was quiet when she finally asked, “What do you think about when you look at me?”

Paige’s fingers were still circling lazily against Azzi’s waist, her touch warm. She blinked at the question, lips parting slightly before she simply answered, “Too much.”

Azzi hummed at this, tilting her head slightly. “Why?”

Paige sighed, her expression shifting into something a little more distant. She took a moment, as if deciding whether she wanted to answer, before finally saying, “Don’t wanna make the wrong decision.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, but her silence and the look she was giving her encouraged Paige to continue.

Paige inhaled deeply before saying, “Life has a way of being unpredictable and a little cynical, regardless of your intentions. So I think about everything I’m doing way too much, hoping I can control the outcome… even though chances are I can’t.”

Azzi studied her, processing the weight behind Paige’s words. Without thinking, her fingers moved to the ring on Paige’s finger, gently spinning it the way she had seen Paige do. She hesitated before asking, “Is it because of the accident?”

Paige didn’t answer right away, but the way her jaw tightened—how her fingers briefly stilled against Azzi’s waist—was answer enough. After a second, she gave a small nod.

Azzi kept her touch light as she continued to toy with the ring, her voice even softer when she said, “You don’t talk about it much.”

Paige let out a quiet breath, eyes flickering away for a moment. “Not much to say.”

Azzi shook her head slightly. “I think there’s a lot to say. You just don’t want to.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, but there was no humor in it. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not bad,” Azzi murmured. “Just… something I’ve picked up on.”

Paige exhaled, staring past Azzi for a moment, her thoughts somewhere else. Then, with a small shake of her head, she finally admitted, “It’s just… easier. Not thinking about it, not talking about it.”

Azzi watched Paige carefully, noting the way her fingers twitched slightly against her waist. She let the silence settle between them for a moment before asking, “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

Paige’s lips pressed together briefly before she shook her head. “No.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, then looked up at her with a soft smile. “You ask a lot of questions, pretty girl.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. “And you usually answer them, gorgeous.”

Paige let out a breath, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. She glanced away before finally saying, “No point. Every time I try, I just end up thinking about all the different decisions I could’ve made. Doesn’t do me any good.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, just watching Paige as she absentmindedly traced circles against her skin. There was something raw in Paige’s admission, something unspoken lingering between them.

“You know there’s nothing you could’ve done. You can’t control the world Paige.”

Paige nodded, but she didn’t speak, her eyes fixed somewhere past Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi could tell she wasn’t fully convinced—just because she knew it didn’t mean it was easy to accept.

“I know,” Paige finally said, her voice quiet. “But there’s just a lot from that day that could’ve changed things.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Like what?”

Paige hesitated. Azzi saw the way her lips parted like she was about to say something before she stopped herself, debating.

But then Paige’s gaze shifted, fully looking at her—the way Azzi was straddling her hips, the way she was still idly playing with the ring on her finger, the way her brown eyes were searching but so patient and warm.

Suddenly, Paige just started talking. “You know my little brother, Drew?”

Azzi nodded.

Paige stared past her for a second before continuing. “That day, he was bugging me all afternoon to go get ice cream. I mean, non-stop—every few minutes for some reason. But I was tired from the games that week, and I had a workout later that day, so I didn’t really want to leave the house before I had to. But I promised him we would go… just not right then.”

Azzi stayed silent, just listening as Paige’s voice took on a more distant quality.

Paige chuckled dryly. “When it was time for my workout, I couldn’t drive because I didn’t put gas in my car the night before, so we all went together—me, my dad, my stepmom, and Drew. Ironically we had never even done that before, that was the first time everyone was coming to one of my workouts. We left a little earlier than we needed to, and when Drew noticed he asked if we could stop for ice cream.” Paige let out a small, humorless huff, eyes still unfocused as she spoke. “My dad looked at me in the rearview mirror and said it was my workout so it was up to me. And I always hated saying no to Drew and I had said no so many times that day already, so I said of course.”

Azzi saw the moment Paige started slipping away, her expression flattening, her words turning mechanical, like she wasn’t even processing them as they left her mouth.

“So instead of going straight, we turned right,” Paige said, her voice distant, like she was narrating someone else’s life. “A few blocks later, one light before we were going to turn into the coldstone, there was this Pepsi truck. I guess he was coming off the highway too fast or something. He couldn’t brake in time, so he ran the light while we were in the intersection.”

She swallowed hard.

“The truck hit the side of the car my stepmom and I were on…They say your brain is supposed to block out things like that. Make it easier. But I remember everything. I just—” Her voice faded, like the words had dried up in her throat. Her eyes were glossy, unfocused, trapped in a memory she couldn’t shake. She blinked once, slowly, then murmured, “And yeah. That was that.”

Paige let out a shaky breath before continuing, her voice rough.

“And I hated the world for so long. Sometimes I still do honestly,” she admitted, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “Because I—I did everything right. I prayed every night, I gave back, I was generous, selfless, I worked hard, I did everything they say you’re supposed to, and that still happened. But then I remember I can’t hate the world. Because we’re all still here and healthy. I still get to play the game I love. I’m still so blessed. So I can’t even give myself the grace to be upset about everything.”

Silence settled between them as Paige just stared into space.

Azzi glanced down at Paige’s hands, noticing how cold they had become. She squeezed them softly, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of Paige’s knuckles, trying to get the blood flowing again.

“Paige,” Azzi said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. She squeezed her hands again, firmer this time, tilting Paige's head slightly to meet her eyes. “Hey.”

Azzi watched as Paige slowly came back to herself, the distant haze in her eyes clearing as she blinked a few times. Her gaze refocused, landing on Azzi like she had just remembered she was there.

“Hm?” Paige murmured.

Azzi softened her hold on Paige’s hands, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to—but she didn’t let go completely. She just held on. “What do you need?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige exhaled, her fingers flexing slightly in Azzi’s grasp. “I’m good,” she said, but there was no real conviction behind it.

Azzi didn’t argue, didn’t push. She just said, soft but firm, “Paige.”

Paige licked her lips, taking a slow breath. “Tell me something about you.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, then nodded, shifting slightly where she sat. She thought for a second before a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay,” she said, tilting her head. “During CoVid, my brothers and I got so bored one day that we decided to go out on the patio and I gave them haircuts.”

Paige’s brows lifted slightly, intrigued.

Azzi grinned. “And not just any regular haircuts. I was cutting shapes into their heads. Like, just completely ruining them. I had no idea what I was doing, but they let me do it anyway.”

Paige huffed a small laugh, and Azzi could see the lightness in her eyes start to return.

“I drew a basketball in one of their heads, even added my jersey number,” Azzi continued, laughing at the memory. “It was awful. Just—bad all around. But we were dying the whole time. Even my parents came out to watch.”

Paige chuckled, the sound quiet but genuine. “They actually let you do that?”

“Oh yeah,” Azzi nodded. “We were locked in the house for months; we needed entertainment. I think they regretted it as soon as they saw their reflections, but at that point, it was too late.”

Paige shook her head, smiling softly. “That’s ridiculous.”

Azzi shrugged. “Definitely. But I think it’s one of my favorite memories. Just us being stupid and not caring about anything else.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled. “Sounds nice.”

Azzi gave her hands another squeeze. “It was.”

They stayed like that for a few beats, the weight in the room a little lighter now. Azzi watched Paige carefully, making sure she was really back, that she wasn’t slipping away again.

“You good?” Azzi asked quietly.

Paige nodded, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s where they were still intertwined. “Yeah,” she murmured.

Azzi studied her for a moment before speaking softly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Paige didn’t say anything at first—just nodded again. Then, with a gentle tug on Azzi’s hoodie, she pulled her down, closing the space between them. Their lips met in a kiss that felt different from all the others—not rushed or hesitant. It was just them, existing in this moment, wrapped up in each other.

Azzi sighed into the kiss, her hands moving instinctively to cup Paige’s face, her thumbs brushing over her cheeks. Paige’s fingers curled around the fabric of Azzi’s hoodie, holding her close, like she needed this—like she needed her.

The kiss continued to slowly deepen, neither of them in a rush to pull away. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, one that didn’t need words.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Azzi broke the kiss, her head moving toward the sound as her breath came a little uneven. Paige groaned, her head dropping against the pillow.

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, still slightly dazed as she glanced down at Paige. “You expecting someone?”

Paige shook her head. “No.” She tapped Azzi’s leg, silently telling her to get up. With a small sigh, Azzi slid off Paige’s lap, settling back against the pillows as Paige stood and walked toward the door.

Azzi couldn’t see who it was from where she sat—the way the hotel room was laid out blocked her view—but she heard the confusion in Paige’s voice when she opened the door.

“Wassup?”

A second voice answered, a little sheepish. “I think I left my charger here earlier. And I know you’re leaving tomorrow, so I didn’t wanna be SOL.”

Paige chuckled. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

She stepped back into the room, her eyes scanning for a moment before she spotted a charger near the couch. Grabbing it, she walked back toward the door.

“Thanks,” the voice said.

“No problem,” Paige replied easily before shutting the door behind her.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly. “I didn’t realize your hotel room doubled as lost and found.”

Paige laughed as she sat back on the bed. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Who was that?”

“Just one of the girls from the USC team,” Paige said casually.

Azzi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at this, and Paige immediately caught on, shaking her head. “It’s not what you think.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

Paige scoffed. “It was all over your face.” She shifted, propping herself up on her elbow as she continued, “A couple of them came over yesterday before the game and just chilled here with me because my flight’s early tomorrow.”

Azzi hummed at this, but Paige could tell her mind was still working.

“What?” Paige prompted, watching as Azzi hesitated for a moment before finally asking, “Have you slept with anyone since me?”

There wasn’t a single beat of hesitation before Paige answered, “No.”

Azzi didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze lingering on Paige. Paige studied her in return, waiting, until the silence stretched a little too long.

Finally, Paige spoke again. “There’s no one else, Azzi.”

Azzi looked at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly as if processing the weight of the words. Then, softly, she responded, “I know. I’m just processing why the thought crossed my mind.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back on the bed with a casual smile. “I already told you why…You were way too interested for it to be just one night.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her expression now. “You’re full of yourself,” she muttered. “I miss when you didn’t speak unless spoken to.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the bed with a smug smile. “Really?” she teased.

Azzi sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “No,” she said, her voice softening. “I don’t miss it, but it was... easier.”

Paige chuckled. “I’ll remember this when you’re begging me to say more than two words on FaceTime.”

Azzi smirked. “I’ll give you at least three. You probably say ‘I don’t know’ more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Paige’s lips twitched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You say ‘I don’t know’ just as much as I do. Don’t act like I’m the only one with the habit.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I do not.”

Paige grinned. “You literally said ‘I don’t know’ like five times today before noon.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, though it was clear she was trying not to laugh. “Okay, maybe once or twice,” she conceded, but then pointed at Paige, “But that’s because you’re always asking me impossible questions.”

Paige laughed fully. “Impossible questions? I ask things like, ‘How’s your day?’”

Azzi raised her hand in mock surrender. “Fine, I’m outnumbered.”

Paige smiled, her eyes warm with affection. “Yeah, you are.”

Azzi's phone rang from the nightstand next to the bed, interrupting their playful exchange. She glanced at the screen, letting it ring a few times.

“You gonna get that?” Paige asked with a smirk.

Azzi rolled her eyes but picked up her phone. “I was about to, if you give me a second.”

As Azzi answered, Caroline’s voice instantly filled the room, loud and clear. “Stop having sex with the recruit and come back to the room. CD’s having room checks soon.”

Azzi let out a laugh. “If I was having sex, I wouldn’t have answered the phone, babe.”

Caroline’s voice came back with a sigh. “Whatever. You’ve got like fifteen minutes.”

Azzi sighed, glancing at Paige as she responded, “Okay, bye,” before hanging up. She tossed the phone onto the nightstand, her expression now amused as she met Paige’s gaze.

Paige’s eyebrows were shot up in disbelief. “Sex with the recruit?”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, rolling her eyes. “Shut up.”

Paige stood up, slipping on her Ugg Tasman slippers. “Come on, let’s get you back,” she said, glancing over at Azzi.

“You don’t need to walk me to my room.”

Paige shrugged casually, her usual nonchalance apparent. “I don’t mind.”

Azzi pushed herself off the bed, and as she reached for her phone, Paige grabbed her phone and keycard. The two of them walked out of the room, moving silently down the hall.

The walk to the elevator wasn’t awkward—just quiet. Azzi was lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting to places she hadn’t quite sorted through yet regarding the game.

Once inside the elevator, Paige leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. The hum of the elevator made the moment feel peaceful, a brief pause in their whirlwind of thoughts.

It was then that Azzi finally spoke, her voice soft but laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Paige opened her eyes slowly, tilting her head slightly toward Azzi. She nodded, the motion small.

Azzi watched Paige as they stepped out of the elevator and began walking down the hall toward her room. She raised an eyebrow, noting the quiet shift in Paige’s energy. “Why’d you get all quiet on me?”

Paige glanced at her, a faint smirk pulling at her lips. “I didn’t. I was just letting you think.”

Azzi chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Right.”

When they reached Azzi’s door, she leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed. Paige stood in front of her, looking down the hallway for a moment before meeting Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi hesitated, then said, “I probably won’t see you for a while.”

Paige nodded, not offering much else. Azzi studied her, noticing the subtle shift in her posture. “You did get quiet on me. What’s up?”

Paige shook her head. “Nothing. I’m good.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, not buying it. “You sure about that?”

Paige sighed, looking down at her shoes for a moment before meeting Azzi’s eyes. “I’m just gonna miss you.”

Azzi softened at the admission. “Keep going,” she said quietly, sensing there was more to it.

Paige hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “It’s just—my thoughts are a lot quieter when you’re around, for some reason. It’s just a little jarring going back to that after you leave.”

Azzi’s expression softened as she let out a small pout, tugging on Paige’s shirt, pulling her closer. “You know, you make it hard to leave when you say things like that.”

Paige chuckled softly, a sheepish smile on her lips. “My bad.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the unnecessary apology, her heart softening a little. “Come here.”

Paige hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, the space between them closing. As soon as she was near enough, Azzi reached out, pulling Paige in by the waist to connect their lips.

The moment their lips met, Azzi felt Paige’s tense jaw, the tension still lingering in her. Azzi gently traced her finger along the curve of Paige’s jaw, coaxing her to relax. Paige let out a soft sigh, her body responding as she melted into the kiss, her hands coming to wrap around Azzi pulling her closer.

They stayed like that for several minutes, the world outside disappearing as they simply focused on the feeling of being with each other in the hallway. When Paige finally pulled back, her breath uneven, she murmured quietly, “Thank you.”

Azzi chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

The two of them lingered close, their foreheads nearly touching as they just savored the moment in silence, comfortable in each other’s presence. Eventually, Paige stepped back, putting her hands in her pockets, though Azzi noticed how her fingers absently toyed with the ring on her finger.

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re cute sometimes.”

Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Thanks.”

Azzi turned toward the door, her hand moving to unlock it. "I’ll call you tomorrow," she said, her voice carrying the same familiarity that made everything feel a little more comfortable.

Paige nodded, her gaze softening. "Okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The brief silence between them lingered as Azzi slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside. She paused for a moment, eyes meeting Paige's one last time, before closing it behind her. Paige remained where she stood, her expression lingering. The soft click of the door locking was the only sound that followed, leaving Paige standing in the hallway for just a moment longer before she turned to walk away.

[vaadazen-codes]

How To Get Started Making Visual Novels

Wanna make a visual novel? Or maybe you've seen games like Our Life, Blooming Panic, Doki Doki Literature Club, etc. and wanna make something like that? Good news, here's a very basic beginners guide on how to get started in renpy and what you need to know going in! Before you start, I highly recommend looking at my last post about writing a script for renpy just to make it easier on you!

LONG POST AHEAD

Obviously, our first step is downloading it from their website

thankfully, its right on the home page of their site. Follow basica program installation steps and run the program. I highly recommend pinning it to your task bar to make it easier to access.

From there, you're met with the renpy app, it's a little daunting at first but let's talk about what all these buttons are for.

Projects

This part is simple, it just lists the current projects in the chosen directory. You probably won't have any in there of your own. You should still see Tutorial and The Question!

Both of those default projects are super helpful in their own ways, i highly recommend testing out the tutorial and playing around with it just to get comfortable with some of the basics.

Create New Project

The first step to actually making your game into a game!

You'll be met with a prompt letting you know that the project is being made in English and that you can change it. You can click Continue.

From here, you'll be asked to input a project name! Put in your games title, or even a placeholder title since this Information can be changed later! (this is also the title the folder will be in your file browser, be sure to name it something you won't overlook)

Now we get to choose our resolution!

If you have no idea what to choose, go for 1920x1080! This is the standard size for most computer monitors and laptops, but it will still display with moderately decent quality on 4k monitors too!

You can choose 3840x2160 as well. This is 2x the measurements of the default, with the same ration. These dimensions are considered 4k. Keep in mind, your image files will be bigger and can cause the game to have a larger size to download.

Now we get to choose our color scheme!

Renpy has some simple default options with the 'light mode' colors being the bottom two rows, and the 'dark mode' colors being the toop two rows.

You can pick anything here, but I like to choose something that matches my projects vibes/colors better. Mostly because depending on how in depth you go with the ui, it minimizes the amount of changes I need to make later.

Click continue and give it a minute. Note: If it says "not responding" wait a moment without clicking anything. It can sometimes freeze briefly during the process.

Now we should be back at our home screen, with our new project showing. Let's talk about allll that stuff on the right now.

Open Directory

This just opens that particular folder in your local file explorer!

game - is all the game files, so your folders for images, audio, saves, and your game files like your script, screens, and more.

base - this is the folder that the game folder is inside of. You can also find the errors and log txt files in here.

images - takes you to your main images folder. This is where you wanna put all of your NON gui images, like your sprites, backgrounds, and CGs. You can create folders inside of this and still call them in the script later. EX: a folder for backgrounds , a folder for sprites for character a, a seperate folder for spirtes for character b, etc.

audio - Takes you to the default audio folder. This is empty, but you can put all your music and sound effects here!

gui - brings up the folder containing all of the default renpy gui. It's a good place to start/ reference for sizes if you want to hand draw your UI pieces like your text box!

Edit File

Simple enough, this is just where you can open your code files in whatever text/code editor you have installed.

Script.rpy - where all of your story and characters live. This is the file you'll spend most of your time in at first

Options.rpy - Contains mostly simple information, like project name and version. There aren't a ton of things in here you need to look at. There is also some lines of code that help 'archive' certain files by file type so that they can't be seen by players digging in code however. Fun if you want to hide some images in there for later or if you just dont want someone seeing how messy your files are. We've all been there

Gui.rpy - where all of the easy customization happens. Here you can change font colors, hover colors, fonts, font sizes, and then the alignment and placement of all of your text! Like your dialogue and names, the height of text buttons, etc. It more or less sets the defaults for a lot of these unless you choose to change them later.

Screens.rpy - undeniably my favorite, this is where all of the UI is laid out for the different screens in your game, like the main menu, game menu, quick menu, choice menu, etc. You can add custom screens too if you want, but I always make my own seperate file for these.

Open Project - this just opens all of those files at once in the code editor. Super handy if you make extra files like I do for certain things.

Actions

last but not least, our actions.

Navigate Script - This feature is underrated in my honest opinion, it's super handy for help debugging! In renpy you can comment with # before a line. However, if you do #TODO and type something after it, it saves it as a note! You can view these TODO's here as well as easily navigate to when certain screens are called, where different labels are (super great if your game is long, and more. It saves some scrolling.

Check Script (Lint) - also super duper handy for debugging some basic things. It also tells you your word count! But its handy for letting you know about some errors that might throw up. I like using it to look for sprites I may or may not have mispelled, because they show up in there too.

Change/Update GUI - Nifty, though once you start customizing GUI on your own, it isn't as useful. You can reset the project at any point and regenerate the image files here. This updates all those defaults we talked about earlier.

Delete Persistent - this just helps you delete any persistent data between play throughs on your end. I like to use it when making a lot of changes while testing the game, so that I can reboot the game fresh.

Force Recompile - Full disclosure, as many games as I've made and as long as I've been using Renpy, i have never used this feature. I searched to see what it does and this is the general consesus: Normally renpy tries to be smart about compiling code (creating .rpyc files) and only compiles .rpy files with changes. This is to speed up the process since compiling takes time. Sometimes you can make changes that renpy don't pick up on and therefore won't recompile. In these cases you can run force recompile to force it. Another solution (if you know what file is affected) is to delete that specific. rpyc file.

The rest of your options on this right hand side are how you make executable builds for your game that people can download to extract and play later!

Sorry gang! that was a whole lot of text obviously the last button "Launch Project" launches an uncompiled version of the project for you to play and test as you go! Hang in tight because my next post is about how to utilize github for renpy, so you can collaborate easier!

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday Theme: Bruce Wayne and his Emotional Support Robin

I'm so sorry I'm a few days late with this one! I've been so freaking sick that I basically slept through this weekend. Hope these lovely recs and playlists help make it up to you!

The relationship between Tim and Bruce, like all of Bruce's relationships with his kids, is complicated. Tim entered Bruce's life because he was falling apart at the seams and needed someone to hold him together. The problem is that Bruce resented Tim for it, at first, and even after Tim became a real part of the family the consequences of a child being the pillar holding the entire family together continued to be felt. These fics are exploring all the different sides to Bruce and Tim's father-son relationship, both healthy and problematic. I have a particular fondness for fics where Bruce looks back and realizes just how much damage he did to Tim in the beginning and tries to make it right now, years later. I read a LOT of fics involving these two so consider this part 1!

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

we're all ghosts by envysparkler

Summary:

Tim is woken up by Bruce Wayne's screams.

Momo's Notes: An AU at the start of Tim's Robin career. He's staying over at Wayne Manor for the night when he hears blood curdling screams coming from Bruce's room down the hall. I won't spoil what's awaiting him inside that room, I love this one. It really showcases just how Tim is holding Bruce, Alfred, and Dick together during this time period.

Just How Long I’ll Love You by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Summary:

There’s a crime scene board set up off to one side. Bruce wanders over to examine it while Batman goes about preparing the tests he’ll want to complete to make sure Bruce isn’t going to tear the fabric of spacetime apart. He vaguely remembers this case. It was already a cold case even by the time Dick arrived, a murder whose trails had gone nowhere. It was one of the files he’d dusted off and given to Tim to practice his skills. He hums approvingly as he studies the board. Tim’s getting close - once he finds the witness Bruce had overlooked the first time, he’ll have the lead he needs to crack the case. Then he frowns, touching one of the photos of the building. It’s not one of the original crime scene photos, nor one of the ones Bruce himself had taken when the crime was fresh. Tim must have gone himself to take them after Bruce gave him the case. Pride sparks in his chest, twisted with shame. “Have you looked at this?” he asks, raising his voice enough for his younger self to hear him over by the monitors. Batman grunts, glancing over and then away again. “It’s a cold case,” he says. “Robin’s been working on it.” “I know that,” Bruce responds. “Have you looked at it?”

Momo's Notes: Time travel/AU fic where Bruce is sent back in time to just after Jason's death, splitting off a new timeline as a result. He sees how broken his past self is and is horrified at how he treated Tim.

New Traditions by Kgraces

Summary:

Bruce revives an old family tradition, but not everyone is in the loop.

Momo's Notes: I have a few fics like this I'll be reccing, where Bruce is in a healthier mind space and trying to be a good dad to Damian ends up making him realize just how badly he failed Tim so he tries to make it right and be the father Tim deserves.

with the exception of… by DSS1101

Summary:

Once upon a time, Tim Drake was Robin. And he was 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. But he wasn't chosen. And that's fine, okay? It was a delicate situation, he understood that then and he understands it now. He doesn't hold it against Bruce, or Dick, or anyone after him who benefited from the Batman that he fixed. It's just, he hadn't realized how many things he lost out on while fixing Batman. The ice cream just seems to be the final straw

Momo's Notes: This fic is similar to the one just above where the rest of the family have it pointed out just how different Tim's childhood with Bruce was compared to the rest of the kids both before and after Tim. Bonus points for showing the family BEING a family at the beginning. Bruce is TRYING to be better and the others are trying to make the family thing work but it's a work in progress with a lot of road bumps on the way.

"Thanks, Dad." by sElkieNight60

Summary:

Sure, it’s embarrassing to call your teacher ‘Dad,’ but for better or worse, Bruce is both more and less than just a mentor. OR, Tim accidentally calls Bruce 'Dad' and they both deal with the revelations and fallout that comes with.

Momo's Notes: Tim accidentally calls Bruce "dad" and then immediately panics. Bruce deals with the regret and damage from his miserably failed attempts to keep Tim at arms length years ago.

Asimov’s Integral by sElkieNight60

Summary:

Tim is an unwanted android, a Robo-Child. After being sent back by his parents, his last and only hope rests in the hands of a man still grieving the loss of his own son. “I didn’t ask for a replacement,” Bruce barked. “I don’t want a replacement! You can go back and tell the RCO I don’t need a replacement.” Bruce Wayne didn’t want him. If Bruce Wayne didn’t want him, he’d be sent back and dismantled.

Momo's Notes: An AU where the Robins are all robot children companions. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne's robochild was destroyed but his attempts to get proprietary replacement parts for the second hand robot kid he picked up off the street scandalizes the company who makes them. Tim was rejected by his first owners, the Drakes, but was given a rare second chance when he's chosen as Jason's replacement by the company. Bruce Wayne's immediate rejection means the company will melt him down for scrap for clearly being defective unless he can convince Mr. Wayne he can be useful in rebuilding Jason.

Some Day's End by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Summary:

Bruce circles him. He’s barely broken a sweat, highly conscious of the lack of ache in his own muscles. “You need to improve your stamina,” he growls. “This isn’t good enough.” His tone is cruel, biting. Tim should lash out at it. He should snap back that he’s trying, that he’s doing his best, that he is improving. Instead, he just nods, adjusting his stance. He swallows, throat audibly clicking with dehydration. “Again,” he croaks out. “Let’s do it again. I’ll get it this time.” And Bruce should refuse. He should insist he take a break, should send him to go get something to drink, should tell him they’re done for the night so he won’t be too sore to train again tomorrow. Instead, he matches his stance.

Momo's Notes: Bruce realizes just what kind of monster he's becoming when accidentally breaks Tim's arm during training.

I Want It Real by Dickered (Sagemistakes)

Summary:

Tim gets hurt. A lot. He's pretty okay with that, most of the time.

Momo's Notes: Tim believes his pain is worth it to keep the family secret safe. Bruce vehemently disagrees. Sometimes you just need a dose of actual good dad Bruce comforting his kid.

What is Earned and What is Given by Cdelphiki

Summary:

The arrival of Damian was quite the shock for Bruce. But that wasn't the only shock of the day. When Tim declared Damian should 'earn' Bruce's love, like 'everyone else,' Bruce realized he had a lot more work ahead of him than he originally thought. Or: Bruce makes sure Tim knows he's loved.

Momo's Notes: More of Bruce realizing he's made serious errors as a father and moving to correct them immediately like a good dad should.

Pretender by galaxy_magitech

Summary:

When Bruce gets hit by fear toxin, he mistakes Tim for Jason. Tim realizes that if he practices his Jason impression, he can calm Bruce down and maybe get some scraps of the affection he so desperately needs. Win-win solution. Years later, Bruce finds out.

Momo's Notes: I do love it when Bruce's fucked up post-Jason period and how he treated Tim is confronted by Jason (or any other batkid). The added angst of Tim being consistently mistaken for Jason just makes extra delicious!

NA NA NA NA Batdad! by nightwalker

Summary:

The irony of Batman having that coffee mug was amusing. The thought of Brucie Himbo Trainwreck Wayne owning it was hysterical. Ollie took a quick swallow of coffee to push back a laugh. “I like the coffee mug. A friend of mine has the same one.”

Momo's Notes: No angst on this one, I figured we needed a couple palette cleansers of Bruce just being an openly loving father with Timmy. Poor boy deserves it!

Clockwork by heartslogos

Summary:

“Do you even hear yourself when you talk?” Tim wrinkles his nose. “Also stop trying to hide the coffee. I’ll always find it. You just put it out of reach or opposite the peanut butter. I am on to you.”

Momo's Notes: No angst on this one either, just showing the loving familial relationship and synergy Tim and Bruce have built up between them.

Playlists!

[virtualvault]

Taking Control

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader, Marc Spector x f!reader

Summary: Steven's jealousy over your coworker prompts him to step in and explore his dominant side.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, no use of y/n, toxic/ jealous behavior and brief argument (mostly from the boys but reader gets kinda petty too), inaccurate depiction of DID, dominant/ possessive Steven, teasing/ taunting, dirty talk, begging, spanking, fingering, edging, oral (m receiving), rough sex, p in v, creampie

 WC: 4.8k

A/N: two jealousy fics in a row…sorry not sorry. Also, I know Marc is acting like an irrational ass in the beginning and sorry if you don't like seeing that type of toxic behavior, but he's being over the top/overly dramatic on purpose so hopefully it doesn’t rub you the wrong way. Plus reader says some pretty petty things in response lol

You had a long day ahead of you. In addition to the normal workday, you were asked to take your new coworker, Scott, to dinner just to welcome him and give a run-down of the project your department is currently working on. You meant to text the boys and let them know you didn't need a ride, but you had rushed out of the house this morning and left your phone behind. Luckily, you always leave a note on the fridge telling them not to pick you up whenever you forget to let them know the night before. They know to check there before leaving, so you assumed they'd see it.

You realized it might have been a foolish assumption to make when Scott stopped by the office before taking you home so he could grab some files he left behind. When you arrive, the familiar black sedan sitting alone in the parking lot has your heart dropping to your stomach. You’re pretty sure that they’re here due to miscommunication, but you haven’t had your phone on you all day so you begin to worry that something may have happened, and they couldn’t get a hold of you.

Your coworker must sense your concern since he asks, “What’s wrong?” and looks at you confused.

“Um…nothing.” you reply, unbuckling your seatbelt and slowly making your way out of the car. Scott rounds the front, and your boyfriend climbs out of his car, slamming the door behind him. You can tell your coworker is a bit taken back by the mysterious man in front of him, so you speak up.

“Scott, this is my boyfriend…” you intentionally pause to allow whoever is fronting to introduce themselves. You're almost positive it's Marc based on the deep scowl on their face.

“Marc,” he says while crossing his arms.

"Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Scott.” Scott sticks out his hand as he introduces himself, but Marc doesn’t even look at him. You give him an apologetic look for your boyfriend's gruffness.

 "Babe, what are you doing here?" you inquire, still worried something's wrong.

“Picking you up,” he responds bluntly.

"Oh. Sorry I didn’t text you; I forgot my phone. But I told Natalie to let you where I was if you stopped by looking for me," you reply coolly, relieved that everything is ok, but you sense the irritation in his voice.

“She told me where you were,” he says bitterly, and he turns his head to glare at the man next to you. This is the first time he has acknowledged Scott, and you honestly wish he would’ve just kept ignoring him. Marc is usually a bit standoffish when it comes to meeting new people, but he’s never outright rude, so you’re a bit taken back at his demeanor.

“Have you been here all this time?” you ask incredulously. You’d been gone almost two hours, meaning that he had all that time to stew in his anger, which is clearly about to boil over.

“Yeah, so let’s go,” he impatiently answers.

You turn to Scott. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I hope I covered everything. If you have any questions let me know."

“I will. I was thinking we could exchange numbers, you know, in case I- “, before Scott can finish speaking, Marc is pulling you towards the car.

“Thanks for dinner!” you shout to him as Marc opens your door and guides you into your seat hurriedly. Scott gives you a puzzled look at the abrupt goodbye and you flash him yet another apologetic look. Hopefully he'd forget about this whole thing come Monday.

Marc is pulling out of the parking lot before you can even buckle your seat belt, and you turn to him, looking displeased.

“You really embarrassed me back there,” you say and Marc scoffs.

“Yeah, well how do you think I felt?” he snaps.

“What? You were the one acting like a jerk. You knew where I was. I told Natalie to tell you what was going on.” He doesn’t respond and you feel a wave of frustration wash over you as you realize something.

 You fully turn to him, arms crossed, and head cocked to one side. "I also left a note on the fridge. Did you remember to check there?” you ask, brow raised. He doesn’t answer, but judging by the look on his face, you can tell he didn’t. Now it’s your turn to scoff.

“How many times do I have to remind you to check there before you leave?” You shake your head. This isn't the first time he's shown up when he didn't need to. You remind him constantly to check, but it doesn't seem to make a difference.

“You know, maybe I'll start leaving my own notes. I'll be sure to let you know whenever I'm going out on a date with another woman," he snidely remarks.

You let out a dry laugh. You just can’t believe how ridiculous he’s being. He's acted jealous before, but it's usually just an excuse for him to get you into bed, show you you're 'his'. But this time it seems genuine.

“It wasn’t a date! He’s a new hire and I was asked to welcome him to the office. It was purely professional. You have no reason to be upset,” you respond.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, like he was planning on having you for dessert. I bet he was acting like that all night. That prick has no shame," Marc grumbles, but you just shake your head. "You're imagining things," you respond annoyedly, and he huffs.

You spend the rest of the ride in silence as you mentally prepare yourself for a night of sitting on opposite sides of the couch waiting to see who apologizes first. But by the time you pull into the apartment, your irritation has started to dwindle, and you realize you're really not in the mood to fight, so you decide to set the issue aside for now and revisit it when he's calmed down a bit.

You step through the door, set your stuff down, and turn to him. "I know you're upset, but why don’t we just talk about this later? Let's have a nice, quiet night snuggled up on the couch. How's that sound?" you suggest, then pull him to you and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

He hums against your mouth, then pulls away. Leaning his forehead against yours, he mumbles, “I don’t know, maybe I should go spend a few hours with some random woman you don't know, since that’s apparently how this relationship works now.” You scoff and shove him away.

“Just let it go! You know what? Maybe I should’ve gone home with Scott. It'd be nice to be around someone who knows how to act like an adult. I bet he at least has the awareness to see when he's wrong and get on his knees to apologize.” You know it's a bad idea to mention Scott's name again, and an even stupider idea to mention going home with him, but you’re so frustrated you don’t care how Marc might react. If he's going to be petty, so are you.

You turn around to head to the living room, wanting to give him a second to calm down, maybe come to the realization that he’s being ridiculous. To think he would let your little comment slide was stupid of you, and you realize that when you feel him whip you around and press you up against the wall. You know you shouldn't keep egging him on, but you really want to mess with him to get back at him for how he's been acting. So, against your better judgement, you continue.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," you say softly and pull him closer, eyes now boring into each other's.

"I wouldn't go home with him. Why go to the trouble? What I should’ve done was pulled him into the bathroom, spread my legs for him and given him a nice warm welcome to the team,” you say, tauntingly.

You see his eye twitch slightly and he takes a deep breath, probably trying to keep his cool. By now you'd have expected to see that playful smirk on his face that means he's about to take you to the bedroom and shut you up, but he just continues to stare at you. Your goal isn't to genuinely upset him, so to avoid provoking him any further, you wipe the smirk off your face and look at him with wide eyes and small pout on your lips instead. 

“I want Steven,” you whine. Since it doesn't seem like Marc's going to let this go anytime soon, you're ready for Steven to come out. Ready for him to tell you he agrees that Marc is being ridiculous and apologize on his behalf, by way of shoving his face between your thighs, preferably.

He's never able to resist, especially when you ask for him like that, so you stare up expecting to see those soft eyes and that warm smile appear. Marc doesn’t waiver, though, and you think maybe he's blocking Steven out, determined to remain in control.

Marc cocks his head and asks, “You want Steven? Yeah?”, in mocking tone. 

“Why? So he can come out and spoil you? Let you keep acting like a brat?” That’s exactly what you want, and he knows it, so you can’t help the small smirk that reappears on your face.

“I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Why do you think he’s stayed silent this whole time?” You raised a confused brow, and now he’s the one wearing a smirk.

"You really want Steven?" he asks, and you nod your head at him slowly.

  "Fine. But you’re going to regret it.” And with that, his eyes close then reopen and his smirk is replaced with a fierce glower, a look so unlike Steven, you think it may still be Marc. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you also feel your insides clench. You don't know if you should be startled or turned on, so you choose both.

 “Steven?” you barely squeak out.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asks, derisively. His hand comes up and grips the back of your neck and he pulls you close. Your breath hitches at the closeness of your lips.

“What? Did you expect me to come out and beg for forgiveness for Marc and then get on my knees for you like a good boy? Let you walk all over me like I usually do?" he snaps.

 While you're definitely the more dominant one when it comes to the two of you, there have been a few occasions he has tried to take control. But he's never gotten very far because Marc always steps in and takes over. You’re momentarily worried Steven holds some resentment for the dynamic you two have, but the way he’s licking his lips as he stares at yours, or rather the hardness you feel against your leg, makes you realize he's just finally ready to unleash this other side of him.

Now that you understand what he wants to do, you feel the ache between your thighs intensifying. Wanting to see what he has in store for you, you decide to test what will happen if you try pushing his buttons like you were doing with Marc only moments ago.

“Of course. That’s what your best at, isn't it? You think you can teach me a lesson like Marc?" scoff. "You don’t have it in you,” As you taunt him you wear a smug look on your face that he's very tempted to fuck off of you.

His eyes darken, then he looks off to the side, and there's no doubt Marc is talking to him; you assume either urging him to take action or demanding to step in and do it himself. You attempt to bring his attention back to you.

“It takes a real man to put me in my place. Like Marc. Or Scott.” And with that he’s pulling you from the wall and pushing you to the room.

He tosses you face first into the mattress and grips the top of your pants. Before he goes any further, though, he’s brushing the hair away from your face and you crane your neck further to look at him. His voice softens and he asks, “This is ok, right? If not, I'll stop, so please tell me.”

You give him a small smile and push your ass back, grinding it against him. “I want it so bad, Steven. Give it to me, hard. Please.”

He sighs, relieved to know he didn’t misinterpret the situation. Also, hearing you plead like that, a tone usually reserved for Marc, sends a rush through him. And then just like that, the gentleness is gone and he’s pulling your pants down and off of you, then tossing them across the room. He settles his hand on the small of your back and leans down to admire the wet patch left behind on your underwear.

He smirks, “This all for me? I do this to you?”

You’re about to give him a desperate, ‘yes’, but before you can, he pulls the fabric up taught, and it wedges deliciously between your folds. You gasp in surprise but follow it with a moan.

“Or is it from Scott?” he says and pulls your underwear side to side, and it swipes over your clit each time. You squirm against the mattress, loving the feeling. You don’t answer him, so he tugs upward on your underwear and, at the same time, lands a quick but firm slap against your ass. You squeal. You continue to ignore his questions in hopes that he’ll do it again. 

This time he gives you a harder slap, and does it again and again until, through gritted teeth, you moan out, “No, for you. All for you.”

He hums in acknowledgment then roams your sensitive skin with his fingers and gives your plush cheek a firm squeeze. You whine at the delicious burn.

Deciding to give your ass a break, he tears your underwear off and flips you over. After ridding you of the rest of your clothes as well, he spreads your legs and settles himself between them. He examines you and then runs his fingers through your folds, gathering the slick forming at your entrance.

“You really get off on this don’t you? Look at you, you practically dripping just from a few spanks." You feel your skin heat at the comment, and you simply nod your head.

“Just a desperate little thing begging to be used,” he says and continues movements, toying with your entrance and intentionally avoiding your clit. The sensation and the filth flowing from his mouth makes you shudder. You’ve never heard him talk like this and you love it.

Getting a bit impatient with the slow, teasing motion of his fingers, you grumble, “C’mon, Steven,” and grab his wrist to move his hand to the bundle of nerves begging to be played with.

“You know I need more. Give it to me," you demand.

Caught up in the frustration of his teasing, you’ve reverted back to that commanding tone which typically has him happily falling into submission. But now, he's having none of it. He’s finally in control and he’s not letting go, not for you or for Marc. He lands a quick slap to your mound, and you gasp as it sends a bolt of pleasure straight through you. You want more, but before you can ask him to do it again, he squeezes your clit and begins rolling it between his fingers.

"Oh, god Steven!" you squeal and arch your back, prompting him to quicken his movements. The action alone has you on the edge, but before you can cum, he's pulling his hands away. You let out a long, dramatic, whine and open your mouth, ready to complain, but he covers it with his hand.

"No more whining. You'll take what I give you," he says and squeezes your thigh in a harsh grip.

" Thought I was going to let you cum already? Silly little thing, you'll cum when I decide. I'm not done playing with you yet," he says, and you can feel the fresh slick dripping from you in response to his condescending tone.

He removes his hand from your mouth and grabs at your chest while he brings his other hand to your entrance. He slips two fingers in, easily, and you sigh at the relief of finally having something inside you. The delicious sting of him tweaking your nipples combined with the drag of his fingers against your walls quickly brings you to the edge a second time, but all too quickly he's pulling both hands from you and denying you your release once again.

You let out what sounds like a sob and pound your hand against the mattress. You keep getting so close and he rips it away from you every time. The frustration has you on the brink of tears and your lip juts out in a pout. You're not used to this. Marc wasn't lying when he said Steven spoils you. He usually dotes on you and is always more than happy to give you exactly what you want, whenever you want it. He's ready and willing to submit to you and put your pleasure above all else. That's the treatment you're used to. Since you're not accustomed to him denying you pleasure, or anything for that matter, the irritation is written all over your face.

"You’re an asshole. Where’d you learn that from, Marc?” you ask, with more than a little sass in your voice.

Not thrilled with your tone, he undoes his belt and frees himself from his pants, then climbs up your body until his hips are angled towards your face. "I'm getting quite sick of your attitude, love. Let's put that mouth to good use, shall we?" he says as he strokes himself pushing into your mouth. The angle is a bit awkward but the sight of him has your mouth watering and you swirl your tongue around his tip as it breeches your lips.

His head falls back and he sighs. He lets you suck on him just like that for a few moments before he's guiding you further onto his length. He hits the back of your throat, pulling a gag from you, and he feels your throat contract around him. He groans at the feeling and does it again. His thrusts have your spit thoroughly coating his length and even dribbling down your chin. He bites his lip at the sight.

 "C'mon. Get it nice and wet. Yeah, just like that," he says huskily. He throws his head back again and his eyes fall shut. The feeling is heavenly and he has to pull out of your mouth, knowing if you keep sucking him like that, he'll cum down your throat.

He moves down your body, landing between your legs, and you wrap them around his hips. He goes to line himself up at your entrance and you buck your hips and pull him closer. As you feel his dick brush up against you, you let out a pathetic whine, almost delirious with the desire to feel him inside you. He chuckles at your desperation and can't help but tease you further by running his length through your folds.

"You want it? Yeah?" he teases, and slaps his tip against your clit repeatedly. You look at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and beg, "Don’t tease me.”

"What do you mean?" he asks mockingly as he continues sliding his dick against you. It keeps catching on your entrance over and over, but he still refuses to push it in.

"Why are you being so mean?" you ask, and your voice cracks. The sensation is getting overwhelming and you get the urge to reach down and push him in yourself, but you know he'd never give you what you're asking for if you did that, so you stop yourself.

"What's wrong? I thought you liked it. I've seen you writhe under Marc, begging for him to fuck you. That usually gets you what you want, right? So c'mon, beg for it," he demands, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him right in the eyes.

You're quick to respond, wanting to do exactly as he asks, in hopes that he’ll finally take pity on you. “Please, Steven, I need it so bad. I'll do anything, just please fuck me. Please!"

He feels heat pool in his stomach from hearing you beg for him like that, and he can't hold back any longer. He grabs you firmly by the hips and pushes into you slowly. He groans as he watches his length disappear as you take him to the hilt. “See what you get when you ask nicely?” he says, breathily. Your jaw goes slack and your head falls back at the relief of finally being full of him.

After you've adjusted to his length, he throws your legs over his shoulders, pulls you closer, and leans over you, effectively folding you in half.  The new angle has him reaching so deep in you that you gasp, and it morphs into a broken sob when he begins slamming into you roughly.

He's satisfied at how you're falling apart around him, but he has to focus to keep himself from doing the same thing. The sweet noises you let out with every thrust and how he feels your walls clench around him has his breathing becoming increasingly ragged. He gets lost in the feeling and falters, and his movements slow down. He leans his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth, and whines into your shoulder.

 The change in pace interrupts your previously rapid ascent towards your climax, and you whine right back. "Harder. Please," you beg and reach down and grab his hips, trying to urge him to go faster. He kisses your neck and continues the slow, deep, strokes. It feels good but you need more. You need it harder, faster, and begging is not working, so you opt for the alternative.

 "You're losing your edge, Steven. Maybe I should have Marc come out and do it for you," you threaten. Not appreciating the insinuation that he can't fuck you like Marc can, he snarls and flips you over. He slams back inside you and pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"Oh please. Please. Please…" is all you can say as he resumes hammering into you, and it has you rocketing towards your release again. You become a babbling, whimpering, mess underneath him as he sets a punishing pace, his dick hitting that tender spot inside you relentlessly.

"I need to…to cum Steven. Please. Please can I cum?" you plead, needing to feel the orgasm he's denied you over and over again.

"Considering all the things you said earlier, I'm not sure you deserve it," he replies, yet he wants nothing more than to feel you pulsating around him as you reach tumble over the edge. He's seen Marc deny you for hours so he's tempted to see how far he can push you. But he feels his own release building, so he'll have to try that some other time.

"I do. I've learned my lesson, I promise. I won't-" a particularly deep thrust pulls a throaty moan from you, and you try to remember what you were even saying, but it seems like he fucked the thought right out of your head. All you remember is that you were begging so you try again. “I…Please. I need it so bad. Please let me cum."

"Say you didn’t mean it," he says, followed by a low groan as he slides in and out of your drenched hole. The way you’re gripping him has his hips stuttering, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself.

"Wha…What?" you mumble, not really sure what he's asking.

"Say you'd never let a prick like Scott touch you. Tell me you'd never let him inside you," he commands.

You remain silent, willing yourself to compose a coherent thought. He wants you to look him in the eyes when you say it so he pulls out, puts you on your back, and slams himself back inside you in one quick motion. It has your head spinning and you can't do anything but moan and whimper as you feel him stretching you.

"Say it!" he demands harshly, and the tone has you clenching hard around him. He tilts your head by the back of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eyes, and grabs at your chest harshly with the other.

“I wouldn’t let Scott fuck me. Ever. I don’t want anyone else,” you pant.

" And why is that?" he prompts.

"Because I'm yours," you profess. "All yours. No one else can have me."

 "That's right." A small smirk forming on his face at your confession. “Who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

“You,” you reply, breathily.

“Who?"

“You…” He keeps asking until you finally realize what he wants to hear.

 “You, Steven! Only you can fuck me like this!" you cry out, and in return he lets out a low moan as your words wash over him. It makes him fuck you deeper, so you continue.

"I’d let you do anything you want to me. Anything…anything…anything…” you repeat like a mantra as he continues snapping his hips into you.

His eyes briefly flutter shut as coil in his stomach tightens. He looks at you again and brings his thumb to your clit, forming small circles that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You can cum. C'mon, cum for me," he commands and as the last word leaves his mouth, your orgasm hits you full force. Your body stiffens under him as you let out a silent scream and drag your nails down his back, feeling the shockwaves pleasure rip through you. He lets out a long groan at the sensation of you clenching down on his dick and your nails dragging across his skin. It pushes him over the edge and he lets out an animalistic grunt spills himself inside you. He's above you, panting, as he continues grinding into you until he's empty.

After a moment or two, he collapses on top of you. You two lay like that as you both steady your breathing and attempt to come down from such an intense high.

 As you run your fingers through his hair, you hear him mumble, “I still like being your plaything. You know that, right?" into your neck and you chuckle. “Just like wanted to see what it was like taking control," he adds as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. You pull his lips to yours and give him a quick, yet searing kiss.

 “Of course I do, baby," you respond, lovingly.

“I do have a request, though. Next time you want to try something new, can you make sure it doesn’t involve acting like an irrational jerk and scaring my coworkers?” The request is more so intended for Marc, seeing as he was the one intimidating Scott earlier, but Steven responds.

“Sorry about all that. I just wasn't thrilled about this Scott guy," he confesses. You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised because Steven has never been the jealous type. Now, normally he isn't, but something about seeing you climbing out of some guy's car, skin a bit flushed from whatever drinks you had at dinner, just didn’t sit right with him. Then, when he saw Scott's eyes glued to your ass as you stepped out of the car, something just came over him.

"Marc suggested I learn to let these feelings out in the bedroom like you two usually do and I guess that was his way of stepping in and helping me do that. I did warn him to tone it down, I promise, but you know Marc…" he says, looking at you apologetically.

“Don’t worry, I'll make him pay for it later," you say, smiling at the thought.

“We can make him pay for it now by going for round two. He’s been begging me to let him out. Says he's dying to get his hands on you.” He grins at the idea of you denying an already incredibly frustrated Marc what he wants.

"Tell him not a chance," you say as you roll both of you over and straddle Steven. He feels a thrill run through body as he already knows he'll be the begging, pleading, mess this time.

[loki-cees-all]

Keeping Score {TVA!Loki x Female Reader One-Shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : You’re stressed, you’re exhausted, you’re sick and tired of absolutely everything right now. Loki decides that the best way to distract you from all of that is to make you count how many times he makes you come. 

W/c : 2.2k words

Content / Warnings : Soft Dom!Loki, established relationship, smut, fingering. 

Author's Note : Welp. Since I’ve been just a massive ball of stress and nerves lately, I thought I’d write something about Loki’s lap to help calm me down. (Spoilers: It just made me riled up in a very different way. Oops!) Enjoy! <3

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

“How many times is that now, darling?” 

Loki’s question sounded like it came from dozens of miles away even though he’d murmured it directly against the shell of your ear. His words sloshed in your head as it lolled back against his broad shoulder, and your shaky breath caught in your throat. Sweat coated your brow, your heart thundered in your chest. Your muscles clenched uncontrollably, and your toes felt like they’d been curled into a permanent and formally unnatural position. Your thighs, spread wide and dangling over each armrest of his tufted wingback chair, trembled and shook helplessly. 

Behind you, Loki’s presence was even, firm, solid. You could feel the steady thrum of his heart against your back, his restrained breath ghosting against your neck in a constant rhythm. Despite the cool aura he normally projected, you knew he was just as excited as you were - from the way his thighs tensed underneath yours, to how his rock-hard cock throbbed against your bare ass from underneath his trousers. His voice was low and hoarse, but still measured, still somewhat under his control - but he was absolutely loving this little game. 

“Well, pet? Are you going to answer me or not?” 

A soft little moan was all you could manage to respond with. You desperately wanted to answer, but right now, you simply lacked the brainpower to give a coherent one. Divine and relentless pleasure still radiated up and down your spine with each featherlight stroke of his fingers against your soaked cunt; he hadn’t stopped touching you since the last one, and you felt like you were liquefying in his lap; maintaining a solid form in the presence of all this ecstasy was just too much effort. 

And that was exactly what you had asked for tonight, wasn’t it? 

Specifically, what you had said was that you didn’t want to be capable of thinking for a while. You wanted to be so very drunk and dumb, from both lust and pleasure, to be so thoroughly touched and explored that the stress of TVA case files and incident reports and the perpetual lies over your very own existence were nothing more than a distant memory. 

Due dates, timelines, the anxieties of life itself, and the horrors of the massive problems the TVA currently faced - you wanted it all to mean nothing to you anymore. Just for a moment, you wanted a tiny flicker of peace inside this wretched little cosmos, and your lover was the only one who could give that to you. 

Loki, of course, had then turned that request into a delightful little game: how many times could he make you come before you simply lost count of them all? 

After your quick and enthusiastic agreement to this evening’s activity, you soon found yourself seated comfortably in the God of Mischief’s lap. His nimble fingers had removed your clothing in a flash, leaving you bare and exposed while he remained in his normal TVA uniform - just the way you liked it. You absolutely loved being naked while he remained clothed; for some strange reason, it reminded you that no matter the problem, that no matter how dire the circumstances seemed, Loki still had everything under control - and that made your lack of it so very comforting. 

Once you were ready, he’d started off by cupping your breasts while he kissed your neck. Both thumbs brushed delicately against your quickly stiffening nipples, and you’d squirmed in his lap while your cunt clenched around nothing. Instinctively, you’d moved to squeeze your thighs together and give yourself some kind of pressure to roll against, but Loki had instantaneously put a stop to that. His large hand had gripped the inside of your thigh and separated it from the other, and you could feel his hungry eyes devouring the sight of your rapidly dripping sex from over your shoulder. 

From there, his other hand snaked its way down, over your ribs and down past your belly to graze your clit. He’d moved slowly, taking his time to thoroughly tease and stimulate the area, caressing gently back and forth with just the barest hint of pressure. On the next pass through, he pressed a little bit harder, collecting your ever-growing arousal and spreading it around with his fingertips. He’d let out a groan of appreciation, so deep and so feral, that it had made you come for the first time tonight. 

It wasn’t a big orgasm, but it was enough to stretch and loosen the muscles of your body, leaving you relaxed, comfortably warm and somewhat limp in his lap; a nice little warm-up climax, Loki had always called it. With a devilish grin, he’d calmed and soothed your mind until it passed, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances while you’d trembled. And once it was over, he’d repeat the process again, upping the ante with each cycle, pressing a little bit harder and moving a little bit faster, cranking the intensity of each subsequent climax higher and higher. 

He’d alternate increasing the speed of his fingers, their angle, and then their depth. The filth he’d whisper as he drew each orgasm out would become even dirtier, and the praise he’d murmured afterwards would somehow be way more celestial and glorious than it had any right to be. The ambrosian tones in his voice rolled in waves, from rough to demulcent, shifting in sync with the euphoric fireworks all bursting simultaneously inside your spine, and then simmering patiently together before the next spark set them off again. 

“Come on, love. Don’t tell me the game is over already…” As his lips grazed the cartilage of you ear, you let out a dazed whimper. The hand gripping your thigh slid up to your throat, and his fingers extended to tilt your chin towards him. He knew full well that the game wasn’t over yet, because your safe word was still tucked securely in its bed - and there was no way you were going to utter it now. 

The blurred angles of your beautiful God danced within your heady vision. Your eyelids fluttered open and closed, trying to will his features to become fixed again so you could admire him fully. Eventually his lopsided brow slowly came into view, arched perfectly over his deep green and wandering eyes. A roguish glint had etched itself deep inside his irises, and his lips were curled in a esurient but disciplined manner. He was gorgeous and stoic, sensual and vivacious, and he could easily do this all night if you had wanted him to. 

A heavy breath tumbled from your parted lips, and your answer was both murmured and dreamy. “No…no, it’s not over yet…”

“That’s good. That’s very good…” Loki hummed his approval, softly dragging his knuckles along your cheek. “But I’m still going to need a number, darling…how many times have you come undone on my fingers tonight?” 

He punctuated his question with a slight increase of pressure against your clit, and you shuddered in response. The backs of your thighs pulled against the leathered armrests of his chair as you shifted in his lap, and your fingers clenched tighter around the straps of his sword holster. Your hips writhed uncontrollably with the circular motions of his fingers, and you moaned out something incoherent, hoping that would suffice for the time being. 

“Such a silly little girl…” Loki teased with a chuckle. His fingers shifted tempo, adding speed along with the increased pressure. “We both know that was nonsense…” 

“Jesus Christ, I - ” Your gasp was cut off by another moan, and your lower half arched itself off from his lap to roll harder against his touch. Another orgasm was building quickly, and you craved it like the sea needed the sky. 

“Close, but that’s not quite my name, nor what I asked for…” Loki tsked. His words oozed elegance and charm, in direct contrast to the image of you spread wide in his chair, your slickened and swollen cunt still begging for even more stimulation somehow. 

“Oh, fuck - Loki!” you moaned as he changed tactics and slipped two fingers inside you. This time your eyes shot open to watch as he buried them, and then slowly drew them out. Arousal coated the digits, sparkling in the dim candlelight of your private quarters, and then he was calmly pushing them back in again. You clenched hard around his fingers and felt yourself growing even more impossibly wet as they curled and effortlessly reached all the right places to make the next orgasm that much more powerful. 

“Answer me, girl,” he groaned, becoming more breathless himself as you became more excited. He pressed his lips against your ear and buried his nose against your scalp. “Give me the number…”

“Six! Five! Seventeen!” you cried out, not caring if any of them were the right answer. Your heartbeat was out of control, your lungs were heaving for oxygen as gasoline filled your veins. Every bit of you was tightened, clenched, stiff and sticky. His fingers were relentless, pushing you to your absolute limits, and you wanted to exist in this blissful state for the rest of your life. 

“Oh, you’re such a dirty, filthy girl. You love this, don’t you?” He slipped another finger inside you. Three of them now stroked you from the inside, over and over again, while his thumb continued massaging your clit on the outside. “You love coming, you love being a mess, you love being so lecherous, don’t you?” 

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his other hand curled around your throat again. The words TVA no longer had any meaning to you. You forgot your own name, you forgot his name. There was nothing left inside your brain, and the pleasure was so intense that you couldn’t even remember why you’d wanted this in the first place. “Once! Twice! 87 times!” 

Loki laughed, and suddenly withdrew his fingers to delicately caress your clit with them instead. “Come now, pet. We both know those aren’t the right answers…” 

The lack of pressure was jarring, and your eyes widened in shock. You let out the most pathetic of whimpers, slamming your hand on top of his in a desperate plea for his previous pace to resume, but it was pointless. He wouldn’t acquiesce. 

“What if I don’t let you come again until you answer correctly, hmm? Would you like that?”

You whimpered again, squirming and shifting to get the pressure back. You turned, nuzzling your face against his without caring about how pathetic you looked. “Please? Please let me come again?” 

Loki groaned, and pulled you back down to sitting. Your full weight was back on his legs and hips, and his cock was somehow even harder than it had even been before. “Fine. I’ll give you a hint, love…Not once, not twice, not three times…” 

His breath was heady and hot against your lips. He was dying to make you come again, just as much as you were ready to explode. That was what separated him from everyone else, and just one of the things that had made you forever devoted to this God of Chaos. 

“Four…” you whispered correctly. “Four times…” 

As soon as the last syllable was uttered, Loki was crushing his lips against yours. His fingers slipped back inside you, and he kissed and fucked you until your fifth orgasm reached its precipice. A bolt of lightning shot up your spine, burning and convulsing every muscle you had as you came again, harder than any other time before. 

In your mind, the seas parted and the clouds disappeared. An aurora unleashed itself between the tendrils of your nerves, and your entire body thrashed in sheer and utter pleasure. Loki held you firm as you spasmed in his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist as his fingers pumped for a few more moments, then slowly withdrew to caress you so very gently in a soothing motion. 

You shivered and melted, moaning and whimpering against his lips as they moved to your cheek and then down to your neck. His heart thundered against your back, and his breath was as shaky as yours while you tried to recover. Your thighs were still shaking uncontrollably when he gently guided them off the armrests and pushed them closed. 

“I love you…” you murmured dizzily as he turned you to nestle back against his chest. He was so strong and comfortable and protective like this, and he smelled like stardust and the deepest, greenest forest. 

Could you actually remember what forests smelled like, or were you just dreaming that you could? It didn’t matter; they were all the same thing, after all. 

“I love you too…” Loki answered softly. His lips brushed against your temple, and his secure arms wrapped tightly around you. 

Loki - that was his name. That was the only thing in your head now. Deadlines and existential dread were nothing more than faint nightmares, long since forgotten. A thing of the past, a thing you’d just made up one night when your imagination got away from you. 

Loki was now the only thing that mattered, the only thing worth focusing on. And that was basically what you had asked for, wasn’t it?

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter - Friends, right?

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns that she and R are more than friends?

W/c: 6.7k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

Note: This is a long one. I had it ready a month ago and well life got shitty soo.. i like it. i hope you do too.

The apartment was unusually quiet when Natasha woke up. Her arm was outstretched toward the headboard, subconsciously anticipating the pull and pinch of handcuffs and the cold bite of steel around her wrist. For a split second, she tensed, bracing for the tug that would signal another training day, another lesson, another punishment.

But it never came.

Just sunlight filtered through expensive curtains, and the sounds of a city that didn’t know who she was. The scent of burnt toast lingered through the penthouse from Karen’s poor attempt at breakfast.

Her fingers curled in the space beside her.

This was freedom, supposedly. Soft beds and unlocked doors. But her body hadn’t gotten the message. It was still awake, ready to fight, obey, hurt, or break. She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the knot, but her eyes kept darting back to the spot on the headboard, expecting… what?

She had spent three years in a bedroom like this one with a pretend mother, father, and little sister. Toys on the shelf. Drawings on the fridge. Warm meals and bedtime stories rehearsed to perfection. But even then, her instincts had never dulled. The illusion had never held, or so she convinced herself.

This was just another variation of the same game.

Different set. Same rules.

She peeled the blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the carpet instead of concrete. The nightgown she'd been provided was a bit too big for her, but it was better than the itchy nightdresses given by her handlers. She headed to the bathroom first, needing to wash her face and brush her teeth to scrub away the last lingering traces of sleep and nightmare.

It was all very routine.

The face in the mirror was the same as always: a young girl. Red hair. Pretty. Green eyes. Small. She'd been told a lot about the girl in the mirror: her name, age, and story. None of it was anything she defined on her own. She splashed water on her face and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She brushed her teeth quickly, ignoring the way her arm twitched.

There were no gunshots today.

No explosions.

Nothing.

Her stomach growled.

Breakfast.

She'd learned long ago to keep her mouth shut. To do her job. To take her orders. Still, she struggled. Being twelve had its rules, and she had to learn them all over again. She padded out into the hallway, bare feet quiet against the laminate floors. As she passed your door, she hesitated. The lights were off. No movement. Still in there.

Fine.

She moved on.

In the kitchen, the table was covered in paper and grainy photos. Karen stood leaning over a mug of coffee. Ken was already seated, pointing something out on the printout between toast bites.

Natasha lingered in the doorway. She didn’t know the protocol.

“Morning,” Karen said without looking up.

Natasha didn’t respond. Her eyes scanned the table. The woman in the photos was elegant, mid to late twenties, with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes. Classic Widow. The kind that made men underestimate her.

“She defected last year,” Ken said, tapping the page like Natasha had asked. “Dreykov’s old files say she went ghost in Berlin, but she’s surfaced here. Been leaking intel to someone. We’re trying to figure out who.”

Natasha nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"You hungry?" Karen asked.

Natasha shrugged. She was, but it wasn’t her place to admit that.

Karen gestured toward the fridge. "Eggs are in the crisper. It's about all we have."

Natasha nodded. She eyed Ken, thinking about last night and how he'd been at your bedroom door when she caught him. For that very reason, she decided she didn't like him. Even as she watched him, he barely looked up from his notes, already moving on to something else. Karen sipped her coffee like this was all routine. To them, it probably was. Just another day. Another asset.

Natasha stood stiffly by the counter. She didn’t reach for the eggs. She didn’t move until Karen finally addressed her again.

“You and y/n will go to Central Park today,” she said, flipping to a different page in the file. “Around nine. Our girl usually shows up near the fountain. Light trail. No contact unless it’s necessary. She jogs.”

Natasha blinked. “Just us?”

Karen nodded like it was apparent. “She won’t think anything of kids. That’s the point.”

That’s the point.

She swallowed the bitterness on her tongue.

Karen didn’t ask if she was ready. Or if she felt safe. Or even if she understood. She just handed over the mission like passing off a grocery list.

Natasha gave a tight nod. She understood just fine.

Useful, not protected. Seen, but not seen. A tool. Not a person.

She reached into the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. The yolks were fresh. Good protein. Healthy.

She was still hungry.

Karen went back to the photos. "You'll get a call at eight. That's when you head out. We'll be here. Trying to get into her apartment." Karen pulled something out of her pocket. "This is a cellular phone."

"I know what a cellular phone is," Natasha muttered.

"Right. Of course. Anyway, here." She slid the device across the counter. "You'll need it."

She stared down at the phone in her hands like it might bite.

It was heavier than it looked. Sleek. Black. Nothing like the clunky handsets they'd used in training simulations. This one wasn’t for practicing field comms or running a scripted op. This one was real.

“Just answer when it rings,” Karen added, returning to her coffee. “We’ll handle the rest.”

No more instructions. No concern. No check-in. Just the phone and the job.

Natasha’s fingers closed around the device. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t say anything.

She was already expected to know what to do.

She cracked an egg into the pan and watched it sizzle, the scent rising like something familiar, something oddly domestic. But the taste never made it past her throat. Not really.

Behind her, Karen and Ken talked in low voices. They discussed strategies, surveillance angles, and aliases. They didn’t glance her way again.

She wasn’t a child to them. She was a pair of eyes and legs that could move through a crowd unnoticed. A face no one would question. The perfect shadow.

She put the phone in her pocket.

And when the egg was done, she plated it carefully. One for her. One for you.

*****

She knocked at your door gently, wondering what she could say to make you get up.

"Y/n?"

No answer.

"Your eggs are getting cold."

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting the worst. But instead, she saw you sitting atop your windowsill reading a book. She briefly read the title "Are you there, God? It's Me, Margaret." She wondered where you got that from. Books were usually vetted before being given to the widows. So she could guess you'd stolen it, but from where? You didn’t look up immediately, even though you heard the door creak open. You’d half-expected it to be Karen, maybe Ken, coming to give you another order, lecture, or something you didn’t ask for. But when you saw the flash of red hair in the window's reflection, your shoulders tensed for a different reason entirely.

Natasha.

You shifted your posture quickly, trying not to look like you’d been comfortable. Like you were enjoying the stupid book. You pressed the paperback flat against your thigh, face warming as you tried to hide the title beneath your palm. Too late. You knew she saw it.

She didn’t comment, though. She just moved toward the dresser and set down a plate with eggs and a single piece of toast so black it could’ve been used as charcoal.

“Didn’t know what you liked,” she said, voice low. Awkward, almost.

You risked a glance at her. She wasn’t looking at you and just standing there, unsure if she should stay or go. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants, shoulders hunched.

You cleared your throat and mumbled, “Thanks.”

It came out sharper than you meant. Not grateful, but not hostile either. Just… defensive.

Natasha didn’t flinch. Didn’t press.

"We're going to Central Park today," She said.

"What?"

"They want us to tail the mark. You and me."

You blinked.

"Karen thinks the target will be less suspicious of kids."

"Right." You glanced down at your lap. "Sure. I guess."

You weren't sure if she was telling you the truth. She could've easily been sent to ensure you weren't hiding in your room. Not that you think either of those adults out there would have cared.

"Thanks," You said, expecting her to leave the bedroom.

But she didn't.

She stayed, eyes wandering the room.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked after a few seconds of silence.

You glanced up. Her gaze was trained on the bed. On the headboard. On the indentation left by a handcuff. Then down to the pile of clothes you'd had tucked into a corner. Pajamas that you switched out for the ones you were currently wearing.

"It's fine," you said quickly.

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"No one bothered you, did they? You know, while you were asleep," She explained at the raise of your brow.

You shook your head. "No?"

You didn't tell her about the nightmare, how you'd woken up alone and scared. You had never truly slept in a place alone before. She nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t leave the mark on the bed. You could tell she recognized it. Of course, she did.

“Okay,” she said quietly, though it sounded like she didn’t believe you. Or maybe she didn’t know what else to say.

You shifted uncomfortably, the book still warm on your side. You hated how exposed you felt. Like she could see right through you. Like somehow, she knew about the nightmare, about how long you sat frozen in bed before the sun came up, about the tears you wiped away before they could fall.

She took a step closer, then stopped again. You didn’t look at her, but you felt the tension in the air shift like she wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

Instead, she asked, “What’s the book about?”

You blinked, thrown off by the question. You glanced at the cover again, embarrassed.

“It’s… weird. Some girl talking to God about periods and bras and stuff.”

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “That sounds… awful.”

That got the smallest laugh out of you. “It kind of is.”

She gave a half-smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was real.

You looked down again, fingers brushing the pages. “Why’d you bring me breakfast?”

Her silence lingered a beat too long.

“Because you didn’t come out,” she finally said. “And I thought maybe you were… hungry.”

You nodded. That was fair.

You didn’t thank her again, and she didn’t ask you to. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe for a moment longer, then straightened up.

“We leave in 20,” she reminded you. “Be ready.”

You didn’t answer, but she didn’t wait. The door clicked softly shut behind her.

And for a while, you just sat there, staring at the dent in your headboard and wondering what it meant that she noticed.

*******

You were both in the park several hours later, waiting for the target. You sat beside Natasha on the bench, your knees pulled to your chest, and your arms wrapped around them. She was quiet. Focused.

Natasha was a people watcher. She didn’t do it purposefully; it was instinct by now. Her eyes went from couple to couple, stroller to jogger, pigeon to pretzel cart. She cataloged everything: the man's hand too deep in his coat pocket, the teen pretending not to watch a tourist’s purse, and the woman pacing near the fountain with a cell phone to her ear, glancing over her shoulder every three seconds.

“She’s not here yet,” she said, almost to herself.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure how she could tell.

“She’ll run past,” Natasha added. “They said she always does. Loop around the west side, head back toward 72nd.”

You stretched your legs and looked around. So many people. Dogs and laughter and honking taxis. It should have felt like freedom. Instead, it felt like noise. Overwhelming noise. You hated to admit it, but Natasha had the edge out here. She looked so natural in the disorder, almost like she belonged in the blur of noise and motion. Her sharp eyes, her steady breath, the way she didn't flinch when a bike zipped past too close to the curb. You, on the other hand, felt like a loose thread just waiting to be tugged.

You hadn’t lied back at the apartment. Dreykov had rarely let you out of his sight. When you were out, it wasn’t like this. It was rehearsed. Controlled. Monitored. The people around you weren’t strangers. They were extras. Props. Trained to play their part in the illusion. You had been on a handful of missions, clean, calculated jobs. Ones where the risk was low and the point was to prove your obedience, not your instincts. You never fumbled. Never failed. You were good. Better than most girls your age.

But you still felt like a baby sometimes. Out here, especially.

Not scared. No. That wasn’t the right word. You knew how to defend yourself. You knew how to kill if you had to. But sitting on this bench, surrounded by life that wasn’t manufactured or staged, made you feel like a shadow at the edge of something bigger. You didn’t know where to put your hands or how loud you were supposed to laugh.

There was no script here. No handler feeding lines into your earpiece. Just you. And Natasha. And the noise of a world that moved too fast and too freely. And even now, you weren’t sure if you were pretending to be a girl… or if you’d forgotten how to be one.

So yeah. This was different. But not impossible.

You glanced at Natasha again. She didn’t even seem tense. Just watchful. Ready.

You opened your book, but your eyes didn’t stay glued to the page. Every few lines, you looked up. Checked the path. Scanned the faces. It wasn’t just about being alert. It gave your hands something to do. A rhythm. Something normal.

Beside you, Natasha shifted. She crouched down momentarily, picking something up from the base of the bench. A stick. Then another. Before long, a small pile formed by her boots. She didn’t say anything; she just let her fingers work, arranging the sticks into a small square and lining them up flat. Careful. Precise.

You didn’t ask what she was doing, and she didn’t explain. But it was nice watching her build something instead of breaking it.

"Why’d you hide away in your bedroom last night?" she asked eventually, her voice quiet and not looking at you.

You froze a little, then turned a page in your book without reading it. "I didn’t want anyone coming in."

Natasha nodded, like she understood. And maybe she did.

"Ken bothers you," she said.

You shrugged, but she wasn’t really asking. Just stating facts the way she saw them. Observing. Cataloging.

“Everyone bothers me,” you said after a beat. You didn't want it to seem too serious.“I just… I didn’t want to talk.”

You felt her eyes on you, but you didn’t look up.

“He knocked,” you added. “I didn’t answer.”

“That’s good,” she said.

You blinked, surprised by the softness in her voice.

Natasha returned to her little stick house, adjusting one of the walls. “You don’t have to let anyone in. Not unless you want to.”

You didn't say anything, but that made you feel a bit better.

A minute passed. Then two.

Suddenly, Natasha nudged you and nodded toward the path. You followed her line of sight, spotting a woman jogging in a pair of black running shorts and a blue sports bra. The target. You recognized her from the files. She was exactly how Karen and Ken had described. As she whirled past you, you averted your gaze, making sure not to seem too obvious.

"Is it her?" you asked, though you were already pretty sure.

Natasha nodded.

"Where is she going?"

"West. Around the loop."

She picked up a stick and set it carefully on top of the pile.

"So we follow?"

"That's the job."

You closed the book. Your heart was racing, and you weren't sure why.

You stood up and took a deep breath, then stepped behind her.

You watched Natasha as you walked along the path, and the woman continued her jog. She slowed ahead like she’d reached the halfway point of her loop. You subtly tapped Natasha’s hand, and you adjusted your pace.

“I think I’m going to ask my mom to pierce my ears,” you said suddenly, your voice pitched loud enough to carry.

“What?” Natasha blinked at you, confused but going along. “Your parents would let you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they?”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat. “It’ll hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. My friend Sarah had hers pierced, and her dad took her out for ice cream. Plus, it would make me look more grown-up.”

Natasha gave a faint smile, but her eyes scanned the path ahead. “Well, if you truly think so—”

"Excuse me," a voice cut in.

You turned. The jogger had slowed to a walk and was standing a little too close now, her breath only slightly labored, her tone casual, but her eyes too sharp.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, smiling politely. “I think I’ve seen you both around. You're in my building, right?”

Natasha’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Could be."

The woman’s gaze flicked toward you next, assessing and not threatening, not precisely. Just… curious. Like she was trying to place you in a memory she didn’t fully trust.

You looked away, pretending to adjust your jacket zipper.

“The building near Columbus Circle,” she added, still smiling. Fourth floor. The one with the ugly doormat."

Something in your chest tightened. How she said it, light and teasing, made it feel like a real memory. Like she knew you.

Her voice was smooth and rich, with a faint lilt you couldn’t quite place. England, maybe. Or somewhere near it. Did she grow up there? Her skin was warm-toned and clear, even glowing a little beneath the muted city light. Her hair, long and straight, was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Too perfect for someone who’d just been jogging.

You didn’t recognize her. But something about her made your palms sweat.

There was a kindness in her gaze. Genuine, even. She looked at the two of you like she liked talking to strangers. It came easily to her.

You smiled back. Disinterested but polite. Just a kid on spring break, irritated to be stopped.

But inside, your mind ticked like a clock. You were cataloging every detail: the subtle shift of her weight onto her back foot. The curve of her smile. The faint scar just above her brow, healed but not hidden. Widow marks. Signs you’d been trained to spot since you were old enough to walk in a straight line.

And suddenly you weren’t sure what scared you more—the possibility that she was dangerous.

Or the possibility that she was familiar.

You nodded politely, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears. You must have been waiting too long to respond since Natasha stepped slightly in front of you.

“Nice to meet you,” she said coolly. “We’re still figuring out where everything is. Central Park’s as far as we’ve made it.”

"We're here on vacation with my parents." You joined in with much more confidence.

"Vacation." The woman smiled again, but her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Must be nice. Where are you guys originally from?"

"Ohio," Natasha answered.

"That's lovely. My mother is from Cleveland. Do you know it?"

Natasha shrugged. "I've been a couple of times. "

"Ah. I bet it's nice."

"Not bad," Natasha said, a smile playing on her lips. "Though the zoo could use a renovation. The monkeys smell awful."

You stared at her, amazed by how easily she could lie. She was completely casual, even laughing, like this was a conversation she'd had a hundred times.

"Anyway, we should be going," You said. "It was nice to meet a neighbor, though."

The woman's eyes didn't leave your face. "Right. So great to meet you. I have to run. Literally." She chuckled at her own joke before putting her headset back over her ears. You and Natasha started walking again, keeping your pace measured. You didn’t look back.

But a few steps later, something caught your eye on the ground. A small item, half-tucked into the edge of the path.

A leather cardholder. Deep brown, worn at the edges, and unmistakably expensive.

Natasha almost missed it, but you stopped, crouched, and picked it up before anyone else noticed. Your fingers ran over the monogram at the corner. G.R.

“She dropped it,” you murmured.

Natasha leaned over your shoulder. “Are you sure it’s hers?”

You opened it slowly, careful not to look too obvious. Inside: a few subway tokens, a twenty-dollar bill, a photo of a dog sitting in front of a fountain, and a business card.

Georgina Rousseau, Behavioral Specialist.

332B West Tower, Behavioral Health Center.

A phone number, an email address, a faint scent of something.

You stared at the name. Georgina. You quickly put the business card in your pocket before sliding the wallet to Natasha to inspect. If she saw you, she didn't indicate otherwise.

Your mind flickered, something shifting.

“She’s already gone,” Natasha said.

You nodded. She was. "Ken and Karen will want to know about this." Natasha nodded and pulled out the cellular phone she'd been given.

*********

Leaving an entire penthouse to two teenagers was bound to be bad news. Under normal circumstances, a party would be held. Maybe even sneaking into the liquor cabinet if the teens were daring enough.

For you, it meant another night to dive into your book.

You were stretched across the bed, fresh from the shower, hair damp and curling around your ears and shoulders. The night had gone oddly quiet without Karen’s heels clicking or Ken’s voice carrying through the study. It was unsettling how easily the silence crept in. You quite liked it.

The book wasn’t even good. Just distracting. You didn’t relate. Not really. But you liked the way it was written. Simple. Soft. The kind of soft you’d never been allowed to be.

A knock on the door made you tense for a second. But it was light. Casual.

You didn’t answer, but Natasha let herself in anyway.

She was already in pajamas. An oversized tee and shorts. Her hair was tied in two braids like she didn’t know what else to do with it. She padded in barefoot, clutching a pillow under one arm.

You blinked at her. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged and tossed the pillow onto the foot of your bed. “You said we were close enough for sleepovers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was for the mission.”

“Right.” She walked over to the window and peeked out at the skyline. “Well, the mission's not over. And I’m bored.”

You closed the book but didn’t mark the page. “We have our own rooms.”

“And?”

You gave her a long look. “What do you want to do? Paint our nails and talk about boys?”

Natasha grinned a little. “Isn’t that what sleepovers are for?”

You rolled your eyes and shifted to sit cross-legged. “You’re weird.”

She sat down next to the bed, back against it, legs stretched out in front of her. "Normal teenagers do these things."

You studied her a bit. The girl who had been so adamant about you not being friends was initiating a sleepover.

"Did you have sleepovers before?" You asked.

"No. Not like this," She said softly. "With Yelena sometimes." She shrugged, trailing off.

You thought about that. How different it was. How odd.

"Were you allowed to be close to each other?"

Natasha hesitated, looking down at her hands. "No, but we were anyway."

"How come you are allowed to ask questions about my life, but I can't ask about yours?" Natasha said suddenly.

"Well, there's nothing to know," You said. "Nothing worth telling."

Natasha shook her head. "I don't believe that."

You shrugged and pulled a loose thread on your pillowcase.

"You always say that," Natasha said, her voice quieter now. "That there's nothing worth knowing. But I see the way Dreykov looks at you. The way the others avoid you. You’re not nothing."

You stilled.

A beat passed between you. Then two.

“I didn’t say I was nothing,” You murmured. “I said there’s nothing I want to tell.”

Natasha frowned, and for once, she didn’t push. She leaned back against the side of the bed, the two of you sitting close, but not touching.

“I’m not trying to make you tell me everything,” she said after a moment. “I just think it's best if we know more about each other."

You swallowed, eyes still trained on the thread in your hand. Slowly, you tugged it free.

"Just a few weeks ago, you were telling me to stay away from you," You began. "You thought I'd lied to you to get a leg up with Dreykov."

"You didn't," she said quietly.

"Yeah. Because I know what it's like to be under his thumb so closely."

She was quiet for a second. "But I was right. You do lie. To protect yourself. And not just for missions."

You didn’t reply. You knew you had lied, and not always because it was necessary. It wasn't even a lie, technically. Dreykov needed her to be at her best. He was going to send her on a mission. This mission. But you didn't think the test had come yet. You didn't want to tell her that part.

“I think you lie so much, you don’t even know what’s true anymore,” Natasha added, not accusing—just observing.

You closed your eyes for a second, not out of anger but because it hit too close.

“That’s the point,” you murmured.

Natasha didn’t respond right away. She leaned her head back against the edge of the bedframe, exhaling.

“We’re not normal,” she said finally. “We’re not supposed to have sleepovers or tell secrets or trust each other.”

“And yet here we are,” you said, voice quieter than before.

Natasha gave a weak smile. “You’re not as scary as they say.”

You gave a soft laugh. “You are.”

Her head turned slightly, just enough to catch your eye. “Good.”

Silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. Just… still.

Eventually, she spoke again. “Do you want to, maybe, watch a movie?”

You blinked. “Right now?”

Natasha shrugged, her eyes darting away for a moment. “Yeah. If we’re having a sleepover... we’re supposed to watch a movie, right?”

You considered it for a beat. Then you nodded.

“Fine. But I’m picking.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing up from the floor with a grunt. “As long as it’s not that weird puberty book in movie form, I’m good.”

You tossed a pillow at her back and followed her into the living room.

*********

Clueless played low on the TV, its light casting long shadows across your faces. The two of you sat curled up, only a few inches away from each other, on the couch as you tried to make sense of the movie. Apparently, it had been all the rage last year. The movie kept playing in flickers of pink and plaid. Onscreen, Cher was giving another grand monologue about makeovers and high school politics. Her voice was sugary and confident, like she'd never once been afraid of her reflection.

You grabbed the remote and paused it.

Natasha looked over, brow raised. “Why’d you stop it?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were staring at the screen, eyes distant.

“Are girls in America really like this?” you asked finally.

Natasha blinked. “Like what?”

You turned toward her slightly, one knee curling beneath you on the couch. “I don’t know. Loud. Flirty. Ditzy?"

She shrugged. "Some. Why?"

You hesitated, a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Natasha gave you a look. "Do they scare you?"

"Of course not," you scoffed, but your voice sounded unsure. "It's just different from what I thought."

"How?"

"I don't know." You paused, thinking. “I mean, technically, I’m American, right? But I was raised in Russia. In the Red Room. This kind of life?” You shook your head. “It’s like watching a cartoon.”

Natasha smirked. “A very well-dressed cartoon.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “They act like nothing can touch them. Like everything will work out just because it has to.”

Her smile faded a bit as she turned toward you. “Maybe that’s the point.”

You paused. “I think I hate Josh.”

Natasha blinked. “What?”

You pointed at the screen where Cher and Josh were mid-argument. “He’s smug. And annoying. And way too old.”

Natasha let out a small laugh. “I thought you said you liked this movie.”

“I like Cher,” you clarified. “I don’t like that she has to fall in love at the end.”

"Eh," Natasha shrugged.

"I mean, boys are stupid," You continued. "Love makes you soft."

“Soft isn’t bad,” Natasha said.

“It is where we come from,” you replied. Your voice was quieter now. “And anyway… boys are stupid.”

Natasha was quiet for a long beat. Then she said, “Not everyone wants a boy.”

You looked at her.

You didn’t blink.

Not for several seconds.

Natasha didn’t look away either.

The room got quieter. The movie still frozen on the screen behind you, bright colors casting soft light against her face.

Her voice was lower now. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You scoffed. “We were trained to. That’s different.”

“No,” she said. “I mean for real.”

You shook your head slowly. “You?"

Natasha didn’t answer.

She just leaned in—slow, hesitant, uncertain.

And so did you.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was barely anything. But it was real. Not rehearsed. Not for a mission. Not for leverage.

It was just you and her.

And when you both pulled back, neither of you said a word. When she opened her eyes, those green eyes. You did what only you could do. You panicked. You stood up, rushing to the guest bathroom, before slamming the door.

"Y/n?" Natasha called. "y/n are you okay?"

You didn't answer. You didn't want this to seem bigger than it was. This wasn't what you came for. Kissing her wasn't what you intended. Did you even like her in that way? All of the thoughts were too confusing, and you hated yourself for the tears clouding your vision. Inside the bathroom, you pressed your hands to the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles went white.

Stupid. Stupid.

Why did you let that happen?

You weren’t supposed to want anything. Not connection. Not softness. Not her.

You were supposed to be composed. Cold. Controlled.

Instead, your skin still buzzed with the kiss. Your face felt warm. Your chest felt tight.

And worse, you didn’t even know what you were angry about.

Not the kiss itself. Not her.

You were angry with yourself. For reacting. For letting your guard down. For wanting something you didn’t fully understand.

You stared at your reflection and hated how young you looked.

Fourteen. Widow or not, you were still a kid.

And you had no idea what the hell to do with that.

****

On the other side of the door, Natasha was having similar feelings.

She stood still, hands shoved into her sweatshirt pocket, eyes locked on the bathroom door like it might open if she just waited long enough. But it didn’t.

She replayed it in her head—the kiss. Quick. Barely anything. But still too much.

She hadn’t meant to do it. Not really.

Or maybe she had.

But she didn’t expect it to feel like that. Not like the empty rehearsals with dolls and dummies, or the Red Room training clips on seduction and manipulation. This wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t performance.

It was curiosity.

Warmth.

It was real.

And now she’d ruined it.

You ran. Not just emotionally, but physically. Slammed the door like she’d said something cruel. Like she’d hurt you.

Natasha exhaled through her nose and leaned against the opposite wall, head thunking softly against the drywall. She didn’t like this feeling. It reminded her too much of the early days in training, when she didn’t know the rules yet. When every mistake meant punishment. Uncertainty felt like danger.

She was only twelve, for god’s sake. Just a kid. But she didn’t feel like one most of the time.

She’d killed people.

She could speak four languages.

She could disassemble a pistol blindfolded.

But now she was standing in a borrowed penthouse hallway like some stupid girl in a movie—after a kiss.

The silence dragged on, heavy and uncomfortable.

She wasn’t going to knock again. She wasn’t going to beg you to come out or apologize for doing something she hadn’t even known was wrong.

But she did feel bad.

Not because of the kiss.

But because you looked so scared afterward.

Because for once, she thought she’d found someone who understood what it was like to be pulled apart and put back together in someone else's shape.

Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to get that close.

Her thoughts began to get more self-deprecating by the minute when the door opened from the bathroom. Her head immediately shot up as she watched you slowly step out. You didn't say much, but the short sniffles she heard from you said a lot.

You weren't okay.

You slid down in front of her, sitting against the opposite wall, your hands balled into fists by your side.

"Did he tell you to do this?" You asked quietly.

She didn't have to ask who.

"No," She tilted her chin. She was observing you. Hoping that it alleviated some pressure.

"Okay," You nodded. "Okay."

Her answer hung in the air like steam off a wound.

You wiped at your eyes roughly, like you were angry they'd betrayed you in the first place. But you didn’t move away. You just sat there across from her, breathing through the quiet.

Natasha stayed still too. She didn’t want to scare you off again.

“I didn’t plan it,” she said finally, her voice a bit hoarse. “It just happened.”

You nodded again, but it was the kind of nod that said you weren’t okay with it. Not because it happened. But because of everything that came with it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” you whispered. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to feel.”

Natasha shifted slightly, arms draped over her knees. “Me neither.”

You both sat there in the narrow hallway, the tile cool under your legs, and the city humming far below. It wasn’t the Red Room, but it wasn’t safety either. Not really.

“I just…” Your voice cracked. You hated it. “I’ve only ever been his. Dreykov’s. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve learned, it’s all been for him. "

Natasha simply listened.

"We're not supposed to do that. We're not supposed to be that for each other." You sighed. "It's...things like that come with consequences and pain. It's weird."

"Is that why you ran?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah." You looked at her, but it was like you didn't see her. "I don't know why I kissed you back." You admitted. "It shouldn't be a big deal, right? People do that for fun."

"Yeah," She nodded. "You probably know more than me."

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know anything, actually.”

Natasha blinked, surprised.

You gave a hollow laugh, your eyes trained on the floor. “I’ve never done anything because I wanted to. Not once. Not really. Not without looking over my shoulder or wondering what it would cost me later."

The words tumbled out faster than you expected. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. If you did, you might stop. And you needed to say it before you talked yourself out of it.

“I thought I was smart. I thought I had power, being his favorite. I thought that made me different. Untouchable.” You swallowed. “But it didn’t. He still—he still took things. All the things I never got to choose.”

Natasha’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“And then you showed up,” you said. “And I didn’t know what to do with that. You weren’t scared of me. You weren’t trying to impress him. You just… were. You asked questions, you pushed back. You saw me.”

You rubbed your hand over your mouth, ashamed of the tremble in your voice.

“So yeah,” you finished. “That’s why I ran. Because no one’s ever touched me without trying to own me or hurt me. And you did it without asking for anything.”

The silence stretched between you, taut and heavy. You finally looked at her.

“Don’t say you understand,” you whispered. “Please don’t say that unless you really do.”

Natasha didn’t. She didn’t say anything. She moved closer, slowly and quietly, until she sat beside you. Not touching. Just near enough that if you reached out, she’d be there.

After a long pause, she said softly, “I don’t think I understand everything. "

You turned your head toward her, eyes glassy.

“And I’m not going to take anything from you,” she added. “Not ever.”

It wasn't a vow. Not a promise. Just words. But they meant something.

You nodded slowly, like that truth had been waiting years to be said out loud.

“I don’t want to belong to anyone,” you murmured.

Natasha looked at you.

“Then don’t,” she said. “Not even to me. Friends don't hurt friends."

You didn't know what changed between that day in the bathroom back home and here, but you were thankful for her. 

----> next part

[shuenkio]

𝗦𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗼𝗳 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 💸☠️

Paring: Jake x male!reader

Genre: nsfw

Cw: Heavy smut +18, mirror & rough sex, cum inside, dirty talk, unprotected sex—

Summary: You thought he didn't love you, until when he got back home one day.

Non-proofread :')

Read at your own risk!

Mind my eng & grams, couldn't find perfect words.

You are a regular guy who is suddenly married to a rich and handsome man named Jake, set up by your parents, without your consent. You are shocked and upset about the situation, but your parents explain that they are getting older and cannot continue to care for you, just like old fashioned trend as usual, so they arranged this marriage for you. You move into a huge mansion with Jake.

Soon enough you discover that He is a cold and distant man who does not show any affection towards you and keeps his distance. You have been together for a year, but nothing has changed.

The honeymoon was dry and you sleep in different beds and barely interact with each other. He did gives you many gifts, but never gives them to you directly.

One day, you decide that you've had enough and plan a surprise for him.

"We should file a divorce!" You said, both arms folding on your chest.

Jake's remove his glasses before rubbing his eyes out of tiredness before standing up on the couch, shooting you with his dark expression, stand tall towering over you.

"I brought you with my money, a lot! If you looking for a divorce, that won't be happening" He responds with a scoff He then reveals that he was not being forced into the marriage and that all his actions have been deliberate.

Your world stopped moving, unable to tell if you want to angry or cry about it.

And little did you know, He plans to "prove" why they are married tonight.

"You'll know by tonight, if i love you or Not"

Flop!

You were thrown out on the king size bed. The next thing you discover was, jake began to remove his shirt off.

"W-what are you doing ?" Gulping down, You know damn well what he was about to do, and you know it too you won't be able to escape this heat Moment.

"Prove you my love, sweetheart! just like what you asked for" his shirt was thrown on the floor, walking to you slowy with his thirsty gaze.

You slowy take steps back, using your hands until your back hit the bed's headboard. Taking a deep breath, accept your fate.

As he slammed on, his lip pressed against yours. His hand is on the back of your nape, forcing you to open your mouth to explore your sweet inside, with his tongue. You let him in, couldn't fight back this emotion, & decide to give up.

You return back his gesture, wrapped your hand around his neck, roaming his back shamelessly while he's exploring your mouth.

The arouse hungering is driving both of you insane. He pull his tongue out, moving his palm before ripped your clothes off, revealed your smooth skin. Which make him even more horny.

As your upper body being exposed, he continues to slide your pants off along with your boxer too. Soon later, your hardness is now standing tall, look so adorable with the pink ash tip that he want nothing but to ruin you.

Feeling confused moreover you determined to let him be, isn't this what you asked for, to prove his love.

Without further do, He stripped down, revealing his naked form. His throbbing bouncing on his abdomen, the cursive cock is twitching, with an uncut leaking pre-cum, piercing at you.

He look down at his painful crotch, as he smirked with an amusement.

He crawled back onto the bed, pulling you out and leading you towards the closet, Before pinned you Infront of the clear mirror, forcing a gentle-yet-harsh headlock on you.

"I'm gonna make you screams my name tonight sweetheart! Whether you like it or not, this is what you've asked for"

Giving you no time to react, he position himself in a swiftly motion. He let out a low grunt, feeling the tightness of your body gripping his hard cock. Enjoyed it, he pounding into you without no mercy, bury his head inside the crooked of your neck, leaving a slight hickey on it. Plus The sounds of his balls slapping against your ass turned you on even more.

You throw your head to the back and squeaking, feeling more greater than you're touching yourself. Not to mention that you've been wishing to have this hot moment, to discover how it feel like. For now your wish had come true, this sensation driving you nut, low-key make you addicted.

"Fuck! your little tight hole clenching my cock so tight aghh" His deep voice, send goosebumps to your spine, but you didn't care about it all you want was HIM inside YOU.

"Nghaha you see that? That bastard behind you in that reflection was your god damn husband! Fucking you behind-oh i forgot to tell you, I'm the type of person who like their own belonging, I don't fuck a random hole unless it was mine" His breath become more vibrant as he continue to move his hip in and out. Meanwhile you were so sensitive, that you were squirming. Biting your lip on the edge of bleeding, you don't wanna stop this shit because it's feel hella good.

Jake grows tired of the view in front of him. He then leads you to the large, visible window in the bedroom, where everyone can see through.

"Being mine is not enough, i want everyone to see that i FUCK you"

"N...No jake"

???

The next thing you know, one of your leg are being lifted up by him, position himself in again, thrusting his cock inside you, even harder than before.

The air inside of you turns into a hitch & pantings like you're just had a nightmare. The orgasms inside your dick began to built it way to be release.

And so is Jake too, roughly fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Both of your visions slurred, the world is started to spinning, unable to say anything beside moaning in ecstasy together.

"Ahh mmm Nghh"

"I- i feel it coming Jake i want to cum" Once you said that, didn't make it any better. Jake's hand are now jerking on your dick, giving you a hard time to hold it.

"Screams my name Sweetheart,say it that i love you" his stroke become rapidly.

"Y-you love m-me jake....aghh YOU LOVE ME RIGHT?" Finally you're cumming before him, soaking all your wet orgasms on his hand.

With one last crushed,his abdomen pressed against tight within your skin, filling your hole with all his cums.

Catching his breath like he was just sprint before open his mouth to say:

"I fucking love you remember that, if i heard about the divorce again, you won't be able to feel your legs for a month, got it babe?"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ CRD TO ALL PICS&DIVIDERS

[harpsinfinity]

If needs must

part 1 part 2

I like the idea of sex pollen/fuck or die too much. So I decided to write it. Dinner is served Carlos enjoyers

Afab!fem!reader X Carlos Oliveira

Genre: smut smut and more smut (in part 2)

Warnings/tags: unprotected piv, sex pollen, slight dubcon (?), Carlos makes me feral.

Word count: 0.7k

@lolitaj

Credit to @cafekitsune for banner

Who knew what the, now abandoned, labs of umbrella had in store for the two of you. The kinds of experiments they carried out that were sick and twisted enough to make the toughest of people's stomach churn in horror.

The wretched company was the source of the horrific outbreak that had clutched raccoon city in its sharp claws, and the undead moping around. You were more than determined to put an end to this and return the city to its former glory, this place was home. You were going to keep it that way.

The darkened laboratory was laced with shattered glass and an array of used, broken science equipment, as if a hurricane was hurdled though it.

Looks like they left in a hurry. You thought.

What made everyone leave so suddenly? The question was gnawing at you in the back of your head, you had pushed it deep, deep down. Wanting to get what you needed and get the hell out of the building before possibly encountering any of the hellish creatures that could've been produced here.

Testing tubes rolled and clinked together from the push of your boot against them. The desks were covered in various DNA samples and files, which were quickly swiped to take back for thorough testing.

The flickering lights were aiding the eerie atmosphere that was created. Who knew what umbrella had been up to ? What kind of creatures or chemicals they could have stored away, kept until needed to wreck havoc on raccoon city.

"find anything ?" A deep, timbre voice spoke from behind you. It was your partner, Carlos. The dark-haired man had been assigned to explore this abandoned shit hole with you.

With a nod you reply "just some files, we'll find some more and see what these bastards have been up to when we review them."

Carlos hums in response "alright, good. Stay sharp, no telling what these fuckers have waiting for us" he spits his words out with venom at the talk of the company he had worked for.

As you two were nearly done with clearing out and practically looting the room, a sweet aroma catches your attention. Peculiar for a place like this, unexpected even.

You followed the scent as if it was calling to you, step after step in a trance-like state. Something was calling out to you, and you couldn't help but follow. Even though you didn't know what or who it was. You didn't respond when Carlos called out to you for help retrieving a sample of something.

That's when you found it, a plant. A plant ? That was even more strange. That's what was creating such an enticing smell. It was odd, but you were sure of it.

The plants cerise coloured petals had a bioluminescence radiating from them, standing tall and proud from it's stem. It had other, smaller little buds sticking out of it. They were just as radiant. It was beautiful, although it was clear this wasn't a product or mother nature. It was likely the piece of greenery was a mutation or experiment of some kind that was created for whichever theories the scientists were carrying out.

You'd never seen anything like it, but at the same time it looks all too familiar. You couldn't put your finger on it though.

The syrupy sweet fragrance filled your lungs again. The last thing you remember was the plant spraying some sort of pink mist, clouding over your head in a fluffy, cotton candy colour.

That was when you shortly collided with the floor. Everything going blurry, moving in slow motion, the faint echo is Carlos calling out to you in a surprised, shocked tone feels like he was far away. Get he was right by you, shaking your shoulders.

Everything went dark

[mattsunsdollie]

Tourist Attraction

Trent Alexander Arnold x Fem!Reader

What better place for a girls trip then England? You get to cross it off your bucket list, and cross fucking a scouser too.

When your girlfriends suggested a girls trip to England, you were thinking London, Manchester or hell even Nottingham. Except, your girlfriends have a different city in mind, Liverpool.

You had no vendetta against Liverpool, but you had expected other “touristy” cities. When you all had landed you were met with thick accents, a little hard to understand but undeniably sexy.

The Air BnB was cozy, a small house for you and the 3 other girls. It was in the middle of the city, allowing you to just walk where needed. Although you yearned to visit London, you would still be able to cross England off of your bucket list.

You quickly learned that it was a town filed with huge personalities, and die hard fans for their soccer team. The locals also referring to each other as scouser’s.

The first few days were relatively spent the same way, exploring the town and trying restaurants and pubs. But after days of just being on the go, you needed a good relaxer and possibly a tan.

Finding a beach close by you convince your friends to go on the second to last day of the trip. It was noon and the streets were already filled with people.

Your pastel yellow bikini showing through your cover up crotchet dress. The stares and broken necks only fueled your ego. When you finally arrived at the beach the smell of salt comforted you.

It had been ages since you had been to the beach. Your friends found a spot and you all quickly placed your towels down and began applying tanning oil.

Putting your headphones on, you decided to lay on your stomach first. The hot sun burning your skin in a good way, a relaxing way. After 30 minutes you flipped over to your back. Which is when you noticed your friends had gone in the water, but you couldn’t be bothered.

Taking off your headphones for a moment, you see a little girl running and giggling. And before you know it, she’s running towards your set up, and sitting down on one of the towels next to you.

She’s a giggling mess as a man who you assume to be her father chases her.

“M’sorry, she’s a bit of’a runner” the man states in his thick accent. “No worries, I don’t mind the company” you reply supporting yourself on your elbows.

He’s attractive, black curls sitting on-top of his head, and muscular body covered in a sheer coat of sunscreen.

“Your daughter is adorable” you say as you look over at the girl playing with a book one of your friends eft behind. “Oh, not m’daughter, she’s me niece” he corrects.

You nod, as he puts his arms out for the girl but she shakes her head. She clearly didn’t want to go back, so the man asked to sit with her. You obviously allowed him to, not wanting him to go away just yet.

“I’m Trent by the way” he says, holding his hand out for you to shake. The grip he has on your hand makes your mind spin. You wonder what that grip would be like on your waist.

You introduce yourself, and conversation spark between you both. You explain how you’re on a girls trip, and he recommends some restaurants for your last night. He’s a local, born and raised, telling you what places are worth your money.

“What’s the best tourist attraction here?” you ask, head titled trying to shield the sun from your eyes. “Yer looking at it love” he says cockily.

“You got an ego to you huh” you tease and he laughs. Your gaze momentarily fixated on his lips, and he obviously notices.

Just as he was opening his mouth to respond, his niece grew fussy. Starting to cry, he quickly carried her, standing up.

Feeling bold, you state “Will I get to see the best tourist attraction before I leave?” Staring down at you he smiles, a deep profound one that showcases his beautiful teeth.

“Suppose ya can, pass me yer phone” he states, trying to act hard to get. He types his number in your phone before going off with the crying toddler.

You could feel a stupid grin creep on your face as you thought about Trent. This was a girls trip, strictly girls and no men, but you couldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You watched as your friends swam in the water, deciding to join them and tell them what just happened.

Hours later, and a cold shower with lots of body oil and aloe vera you were back in the rental. Sitting in a towel, you decide to text Trent.

8:49 pm

“Does Liverpool’s best tourist attraction accept clients after hours?”

Grinning as you wrote the cheeky message. You put the ball in his court, he could decide how this played out. Shortly after he replied

8:51 pm

“Only certain clients. Usually the ones who don’t make me wait all day for a message”

Laying flat on your back, feeling comfort in the white duvet under you. Not wanting to answer too quickly you gave it a few before responding.

8:55 pm

“Can this client apologize? Possibly in person at 10?”

There was no need to be shy, you had nothing to lose. It’s not like if he turned you down you would see him down the street.

8:58 pm

“Send the location, I’ll be there at 10. Have that apology ready darling”

With that you sent the location, quickly getting out of your towel. It was causal, but you still wanted to look presentable. You slipped on a pair of shorts and a tube top. Letting your hair air dry, you only did a subtle natural makeup look.

Before you knew it, it was 10, and time to face your friends to let them know you would be leaving. When you walked into the kitchen, it was as if they already knew.

Reminding you to keep your location on, to wear a condom and be safe. You laughed as you exited the home. You were greeted with a tinted Rolls Royce infront of the house.

Opening the door, you see Trent, causal in a white t-shirt and shorts. His car smelling like his expensive cologne. “Didn’t expect anything less from Liverpool’s finest” you joke, referring to the expensive car.

“Think ya owe me an apology, love.” he reminds you, the car still in park. “I apologize for making you wait” you blatantly say.

“It’s not big deal” he jokes, trying to see as if he didn’t care. You lightly smack his chest. The streets are still filled, regardless of the time. “ ‘M thinkin of going back to the beach” he says while at a red light. “Let’s go then” is all you say before looking back out the window admiring the street lights and houses.

The beach at night looks like a whole new world. He brings two towels from his back seat, placing them on the sand. You laid down as you watched the waves hit the sand and rocks before retreating back to their homes.

The conversation was light, jumping from topic to topic naturally. You couldn’t ignore the way he would stare at you for longer than needed while you looked at the sea.

“You usually serve as a tour guide and tourist attraction to all foreigners?” you say, deciding to push some buttons.

“Would ya believe me if I said yer the first?” he smirked.

“How can you be Liverpool’s best tourist attraction if I’m the first one to experience it?” turning to fully face him.

He looks at your eyes before switching his gaze to your lips then your hardened nipples poking through your tube top.

“Give me a review after then” he says, keeping eye contact. Leaning in, looking directly at his lips you say “Maybe I will, we’ll see if it’s five star worthy”

You pull another chuckle from him, before there’s silence besides from the waves hitting the rocks. “Can I kiss ya?” he asks sweetly.

Nodding, he cups your face pulling you in slowly. His lips feel better than you would have imagined. You move in sync, eyes fluttering shut as you grip his arm. His tongue enters your mouth and he deepens the kiss, pulling you onto him.

Laying down on him, while legs on either sides of his hips you don’t care how obscene this looks. All you care about is continuing to kiss him, and feel his hardening erection through the shorts.

Slowly moving your hips, you cup his face. “Shit, let’s go to my car” he states, hands on your hips. You both quickly grab the towels and make your way back to the car parked in an empty parking lot.

The deep tints helping in this situation. He sits in the back seat and you follow, sitting on him once again. Grinding on him you moan lightly, which makes Trent go crazy.

“Can I?” he asks, referring to your clothes and removing them. You nod, putting his hands on your body. There was no time to waste, especially when fucking in a parking lot. Your clothes are quickly disregarded and so are his.

He spits on his fingers, using it a lube of sorts. Rubbing your wet folds causing your head to be thrown back. He grabs a condom from his short’s pocket that were on the floor.

He was bigger than you’ve taken, but you were so turned on you didn’t care for the lack of prep or the stretch. He rolled the condom down skillfully.

Eagerness filled your veins, the second the condom reached the base, you aligned yourself. Slowly inching yourself down your jaw was left hanging open.

It was a delicious burn, one you’ll never forget. Trent quickly began to suck and play with your nipples, stimulating you even more. When you finally reached the bottom all you could do was grind back and forth.

Trent’s hand found their way to your ass, grabbing it and guiding you to bounce.

“Just like that baby” he moaned out when you slammed your hips down on him.

“So big Trent” you whispered, trying to keep quiet. The smell of his cologne, and his touches around your body leaving you feeling dizzy.

“Don’t get lazy on me now baby” he groaned out, encouraging you to continue to bounce. He was out of luck, your legs already shaking.

“C-can’t, please” you cried out. Placing his feet hard onto the floor of his expensive vehicle, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you to his chest while he thrusted up.

“Can’t even ride me properly. It’s okay baby, I’ll give ya a proper fuck” he says in your ear.

His hips hitting yours at a pace you’ve never had before. “Keep clamping down on me and ‘m gonna cum” he says through gritted teeth. But truth be told, you were already on the edge.

He was reached spots no one has before. The coil in your stomach begging to unravel, and it did once he began sucking on your neck. You were certain there’d be marks when you finished.

Gripping him in a way no one has you convulsed, creaming all over him. With one final stroke, completely bottoming he released into the condom.

It was a one night stand, a fun night on your girls trip. At least that’s what you expected. But Trent had other plans, texting you while you boarded your plane. Liverpool’s finest begging to still talk to you while thousands of miles away. He should’ve known you don’t revisit tourist attractions you’ve already seen.

hello dolls!! I hope you enjoyed this fic. this was voted for the fic to be released! thank you for voting. I wanted to switch the roles and make the woman the one enforcing the “one night only” stance.

also I just wanted to touch on 2 things:

1. I am not from England, so if I used a city that is in fact not touristy, you know why now LMAO. I also hope I described Liverpool correctly, and did it justice. google can only help so much

2. I know there is a lot regarding Trent in the media right now. this is not the place to drag someone or gossip, but I will say I did not want to punish myself by not publishing this work that I spent a lot of time on. Although he is not going to be continuing to play in Liverpool, for this fic’s sake, he is.

[bodyhopper-files]

Happy to see me?

My older brother's body stood in front of me, but it wasn't him; it was the body-thief. He grinned mischievously as he ran his hands up and down my brother's torso.

"Happy to see me?" he teased in my brother's voice. "I know I'm happy to be wearing this handsome face again."

"Don't worry," the impostor said. "I won't be in him long. Just a day or two..."

But I knew he was lying. The body-hopper always stayed longer than expected.

"Though, I must admit," he continued, running his fingers through my brother's dark chest hair. "Your brother's body is one of my favorites. I've been a soldier, a statesman, a farmer...the possibilities are endless."

He then leaned in closer, whispering as if sharing a secret. "But your brother's body is especially suited to my tastes. The way it responds to certain stimuli."

He stepped back casually while circling a bare nipple with his finger, letting it linger there for a moment before giving it a soft pinch and moaning with pleasure in my brother's voice.

"It's like discovering a whole new world," he said with a smirk.

As if in a trance, he continued to explore my brother's body, moving his hands down to the waistband of his gym shorts and slowly revealing more skin. His hand slipped inside, brushing against my brother's thick, pulsing erection.

"There's nothing quite like experiencing the pleasure of another person firsthand," he mused with a throaty mix of his own unearthly tones and my brother's voice.

As he began to masturbate, I felt a surge of arousal course through my body. The body-thief seemed to sense it too.

"You know what I'm thinking, little bro?" he said, effortlessly switching in and out of my brother's persona as he stroked himself. "It's time for you to experience some pleasure too."

I knew the role play routine all too well, so I played along. "Alirght, big bro," I replied. "But after this time, you have to stay out of him for a full year!"

The body-hopper seemed to consider my offer before agreeing, but deep down I knew it was just another one of his lies. The truth was, I never knew when he was inhabiting my big brother's body, and secretly I enjoyed the thrill of not knowing.

----- ----- -----

With an AI Illustration by @bodyhopper-files

[noorpersona]

omgggg you're the sweetest (T_T)♡

oh! can i request a fic about rivalry with kita? i'd love to see him fuming and stuff since he rarely mad about anything. by anything, i mean ANYTHING. and... i don't mind a pinch of nsfw in it btw (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ but if it's not necessary for the plot you can take that away, that's okay. thanks in advance ^^♡

(you don't have to rush, take your time writing it (*ゝω･*))

Thank you so much for the sweetest request!! ♡ I had so much fun exploring what it would take to actually get under Kita’s skinn heheheh

no smut just yet! but trust me—I’ve got some spicy ideas brewing for part two 👀

Thank you for reading lovely 🥰

--

The gym echoed with squeaking sneakers and shouted drills, the clash of balls against hardwood punctuated by the shrill calls of coaches on either end. Co-ed training camps were chaos on a good day. On this day, it was warfare—at least, it felt that way to Kita Shinsuke.

Across the net, you stood with your hands on your hips, eyes cool and sharp, as if you could predict every move his team made. And worse—you smirked when you were right.

“That’s the fourth time your middle’s fallen for the cross,” you called out across the net, voice far too casual for his taste. “You might wanna switch it up before he tears his ACL.”

Kita’s eyes narrowed.

He didn’t respond. He rarely did. But he filed it away. Like he always did.

Osamu muttered beside him, “They’re good.”

Kita hummed in agreement. “Too chatty.”

You were, admittedly, talented. Strategic. A good captain. But the way you barked directions with a bite of sarcasm, the way you smirked when things went your way, the way you carried yourself with this insufferable looseness like volleyball wasn’t sacred—

It got under his skin.

And you knew it.

You took every opportunity to needle him. Subtle things. Walking just a little too close when switching drills. Offering sly suggestions to his players during breaks like you knew them better. Commenting on his rigidity with a grin that never met your eyes.

Today was only day three of the camp. And he was already counting down to the end.

Later that afternoon, the teams broke into a scrimmage. Mixed lineups, random assignments.

Unfortunately, you were on his side of the court.

“Wow,” you said, eyes scanning the rotation chart as you stepped into place beside him, “I didn’t think they’d actually put us together. Do you think they’re trying to test how long you can tolerate me?”

Kita didn’t even glance at you. “Keep your mind on the game.”

“Always do,” you chirped.

The first serve came, and to your credit, you didn’t miss a beat. Your timing was perfect. Your approach was clean. You called the ball clearly, landed sharply, and turned back with a smirk.

“What, no feedback?” you asked breathlessly. “Not even a little pointer?”

Kita stared at you, flat and unimpressed. “You were slightly late on your first step.”

You blinked. “Was not.”

He turned away. “Yes, you were.”

You scoffed. “Kita, if I was any more precise, I’d be a stopwatch.”

He didn’t reply.

You, of course, took that as a challenge.

Practice ended, finally, after a brutal hour. Kita dismissed his team with a bow and collected the stray balls with quiet efficiency. You lingered, sweat still clinging to your brow, hair pulled back, muscles humming with exertion.

You approached slowly, ball in hand, rolling it against your palm.

“You know,” you said mildly, “I can’t tell if you hate me or if that’s just your default personality.”

Kita didn’t look at you. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”

“Yup. I like the view.”

His jaw ticked. His shoulders squared just slightly, a subtle but unmistakable signal of irritation.

You came a step closer. “What is it about me, huh? The fact that I don’t shut up? That I challenge you? That I coach with instinct instead of a clipboard?”

“You coach with your ego,” he replied, finally turning toward you. His voice was sharp—colder than you’d ever heard it. “You don’t respect the game. You treat it like a stage for your mouth.”

You raised a brow, momentarily taken aback by the vehemence in his tone.

“And you treat it like a religion,” you said evenly, though the smirk had faded from your voice. “But not everyone worships like you, Kita.”

He stepped forward once, not quite in your space but close enough to make your breath hitch. His posture was tense now, fists loosely clenched at his sides, back straight like he was trying not to launch into a full tirade. His voice was low, deadly quiet.

“You think being loud makes you better. You think swagger makes up for gaps in discipline. But this—this isn’t your team. These aren’t your players. And I’m not going to stand by while you make a spectacle of the game I’ve spent years building.”

You stared at him.

For a moment, all your usual wit dried on your tongue. Your hands curled tighter around the volleyball in your grip. His jaw was set, the muscle twitching, and his brows were drawn low, eyes locked on yours with a kind of restrained heat you didn’t expect.

No sarcasm. No smirk. Just anger. Real, burning anger.

You hadn’t expected that.

“You’re mad,” you said finally, voice quieter.

“I’m focused.”

“No.” You took a step forward this time. “You’re mad.”

His nostrils flared. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.

“And why is that?” you continued, cocking your head. “Because I’m not like you? Because I don’t worship your little routines? Or is it because someone finally rattled that polished little mask of yours?”

His mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t answer.

“Right,” you murmured, taking another step closer—close enough to see the veins in his neck standing taut, the slight tremble in his fingertips. “Because someone like you would never snap, right? You’re too composed. Too perfect.”

Kita didn’t respond.

He couldn’t.

Because you were right. And he hated that.

The silence buzzed between you, thick and electric. And something shifted in the air—sharp, magnetic, inevitable.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Say you hate me.”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, firm but not painful.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, voice low and strained. “I just don’t know how to stand you.”

And that was the moment.

The shift.

The crack in the dam.

Your fingers twitched. His hold tightened. And for one suspended heartbeat, it felt like the entire gym faded around you.

Then—

“Everyone outta the locker rooms!” a coach barked from the entrance.

Kita dropped your wrist like it burned. You took a full step back, breath sharp, eyes wide.

No words passed between you.

The look he gave you said everything.

He was absolutely going to snap.

And you were absolutely going to be the reason why.

[gammasnippets]

[CHANNEL_9] fromis_9 '채널나인' EP60. Spotlighting 🐿️ Part.3

fromis_9 Lee Chaeyoung

11,660 words (Co-edited by @digipigichopshop & @dnd-writes)

After "reviewing" an intense office romance starring fromis_9's main vocalist, Park Jiwon, you are now left with 8 more alluring videos featuring the remaining members to explore and indulge in. You feel teased after witnessing the explicit nature of the first video. Watching Jiwon's naked body as she partakes in what might be the best sexual experience caught on film got you pitching a tent underneath your pants. But that doesn't seem to be enough. After all, what's not to say that the other videos won't push your limits even further?

You choose among the many files that fill your computer folder, looking for the next video to review. The first thing that catches your eye is the thumbnail with the group’s playful and charismatic rapper, Chaeyoung. The entire fromis_9 is full of pretty faces and hot figures, but you've always been drawn to Chaeyoung's magnetic charm. She's funny, talented, and has a captivating stage presence… And now you find yourself eager to see how she can ignite your desires in this next video.

You press the play button and the "Channel_9" intro plays alongside its colorful intro card. As their video editor, you ponder what elements can be included in this video to tie it to the first one seamlessly. With a mischievous grin on your face, you decide to include a recap from the previous video where Jiwon's sensual encounter left you craving for more. You think it's a wonderful idea, but watching this current video to its completion comes first.

After the intro, the video shows a huge indoor swimming complex. The video shows its many pools and amenities, filled with many hues of blue and sparkling with crystal-clear water, and inviting everyone to dive in. It then shifts to an aerial shot of Chaeyoung outside of the area walking towards it. The camera switches to that of the crew following her to have a better view of this video’s main star, wearing a creative mix of a red strapless dress over a white buttoned shirt and red heels. Her long figure is accentuated by the dress, giving her a seductive yet sophisticated look.

However, as the camera focuses on her, Chaeyoung seems to look more hesitant than anything, curious as to what might be inside.

"Is this really the place?" Chaeyoung wonders aloud, her voice full of excitement and anticipation.

"Yes," one of the crew softly replies.

"What is this place? It could be like an indoor pool," Chaeyoung suggests, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

She walks a bit further and reaches the entrance of the indoor swimming area. It didn't take long for her to realize that her assumption was correct.

"An indoor pool? Oh wow, it really is," Chaeyoung exclaims, her voice filled with awe.

As she steps further inside, the view switches to a bird's eye view of the entirety of the swimming area from a drone camera. Despite her tall frame, the captured angle makes Chaeyoung look like a small figure in this large aquatic paradise.

"Wow. This place looks nice," she murmurs to herself. "They even have big slides!"

She continues to explore the vast complex, taking in the many sights and sounds around her. Her eagerness to take a dip in the many pools becomes more and more evident as she starts to softly whine every time her eyes catch anything new and exciting.

"You want to swim, don't you?" one of the crew playfully asks Chaeyoung, teasing her.

"Of course," she replies with a mischievous smile, before letting out a deep sigh. "I wish I didn't wear this outfit."

"But you look good in it."

"But I want to swim," she pouts, defeated as she looks at her clothing.

The crew chuckles at her cute yet disappointed expression.

"Can we go back here again?" she asks.

"Maybe?" the crew replies, a teasing tone in their voice.

Her eyes widened in hope and excitement. "Really? We can?"

"Well, we can certainly try to make it happen," they respond, their tone filled with amusement.

"Yes!" Chaeyoung claps her hands in glee.

"But this is a filming studio, after all," they point out.

"Ugh…" Chaeyoung groans, sounding frustrated.

"So we should coordinate with them first if we can use this place again," they suggest.

"It's a shame we can't just go here whenever we can," she pouts.

The crew again laughs at her remarks.

Her witty nature, paired with her playful banters, makes Chaeyoung a delight to work with. She's more than just a pretty face, her vibrant and welcoming personality makes her a good addition to any project. Many fans often discuss how she rarely lands any invitations to shows or events, be it as a guest or a host. Her level of professionalism, paired with her natural charm, will make her a great asset to any production.

Chaeyoung and the crew continue to explore the huge swimming facility, stumbling into more breathtaking pools and attractions along the way. They then end up in a huge yet shallow pool. What's interesting is that despite the water being shallow, it doesn't look like a pool meant for children. The pool is decorated as if it's a sports arena, with goals on each end and border lines drawn on the bottom. A scoreboard is also visible, adding to the air of competition and excitement.

"Wow! This area looks great!" Chaeyoung exclaims, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

She then proceeds to walk further into the pool area, trying to get a closer look at the intricately designed space. But as she takes a few more steps, the crew then takes their leave to let her explore on her own. She waves and bows at them as her way of appreciation for accompanying her thus far. As they part ways, the camera view then switches to those inside the area, capturing the entire place from much better angles.

As she goes deeper into the pool area, she notices a man nearby who seems to be doing some stretches.

"Uhh… Hello," Chaeyoung tries to grab the man's attention with a friendly tone as she steps closer to him.

"Ah! Hello there," the man turns to her and slightly bows, a polite smile on his face.

"Hello to you as well," she responds with a warm smile before bowing in return.

The man stands up from his task and walks closer to Chaeyoung, offering a friendly handshake.

"So I will be your partner today."

She softly giggles before accepting her handshake. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he replies, his voice calm and friendly. "Chaeyoung, is it?"

"Yes. I guess I'm in the right place," she says with a playful grin.

"I guess you are," he chuckles. "So, are you ready?"

Chaeyoung then looks at him, dumbfounded.

"Eh?"

"I was told that we're going to have a friendly game of water polo," he explains, pointing towards the goals and lines in the pool.

She is then left speechless for a moment, her eyes staring at nothing in particular as she looks as if she's processing her situation.

"So, are you up for it?" he asks her again, his voice filled with anticipation.

Chaeyoung then chuckles, still staring into nothingness, before looking at him. "I wasn't even informed that I'll be swimming today."

She then turns her attention to one of the many cameras surrounding them as if looking at the staff themselves.

"Why did you make me wear this?" she yells at them laughing, playfully pointing at her outrageous office get-up.

Her partner then bursts out laughing at her unexpected reaction. "Wait. What's wrong?"

Chaeyoung then looks at him, still laughing but looking defeated. "I can't swim in this!"

He scratches his head in amusement as he has never been in a situation quite like this before, let alone see someone attempt to swim wearing office attire.

"Well that can be a problem," he says, chuckling.

"Oh no," she then starts to worry about the challenge at hand. "Do I immediately fail the challenge?"

"I don't think so. No," he attempts to reassure her worries as he thinks of a way to salvage the situation.

Suddenly, one of the monitors in the room turns on, catching their attention. On the screen, a message appears where it says the following;

“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: SPLASH & BLAST>

Aim to be the best water polo player ever!

Score as much as you can against your opponent.

Regular water polo rules don’t apply. Do whatever you can to win!

Complete this mission to earn your group a reward.

GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"

They both read the message on the screen, their eyes widening in surprise. Chaeyoung then looks at him with eyes full of concern.

"A time limit? How much time do we have?" she asks, feeling lost and nervous.

The scoreboard suddenly hums to life, catching their attention. The timer displays 120 minutes on the clock, making them realize they have a generous amount of time to complete the challenge.

"Oh, neat," he remarks. "We have plenty of time."

“Yeah,” She nods as she thinks about her situation. "But I'm wearing these clothes…"

"Right," he responds with a small chuckle.

"What should I do?" she asks, her worry slowly getting the best of her.

As he struggles to think of a way to help her, he shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you'd have to take them off."

"Sure," She chuckles nervously. “But you see…”

“Yes?” he asks.

"I don't have any swimsuits on me," she admits, blushing.

He then let out a chuckle at her sudden confession. "So you're just in your underwear, then?"

She nods at him. "Yep."

"If that's the case," he pauses for a moment, before adding, "Then it won't be much different from regular water polo."

"Really?" Chaeyoung's eyes widened, curious to hear his thoughts.

"Yes. Some beginners play water polo in their underwear, with the lack of preparation and all," he further explains, chuckling as he goes.

"I see…" she nods as she understands the situation. "So my case is actually a common thing, huh?"

"Correct," he nods, smiling. "Even professionals do their practice rounds wearing underwear when they forget to bring one."

“Is that so?” She laughs. "So it's just practice for me then."

He chuckles. "You can say that."

Suddenly, all her worries seem to have vanished. She smiles and nods at herself, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Alright," she exclaims, excited to accept the challenge. "I'll take the challenge then."

"That's the spirit!" He cheers her and gives her a thumbs up.

"So…"

Chaeyoung's eyes then begin to wander around the pool area, as if looking for something.

 "Should I just strip here?"

Her query catches him off guard, blushing before laughing at himself. "Ah, right. The nearest changing room is a bit far from here. It might take you a while to walk there."

"I see," she responds, understanding the situation. "Guess I’ll do a quick one here."

"Sure. I’ll stay back," He tells her as he steps back a few steps, raising his arm as he does.

"Right! Let's do this, then…"

Chaeyoung steps a bit away from him and begins to undress.

Her partner is then left to watch her as she attempts to remove every article of her clothing. Her high heels come off first, then the belt that holds the entire ensemble, followed by her orange tube dress. As she is halfway through unzipping the dress, she suddenly stops, looking at him for a moment.

"Oh. Umm…" She looks at him, feeling shy.

"What is it?" he asks, curious.

"Can you…" she pauses, her hands pointing at the stuck zipper.

"You want me to help you with that?" He asks again, smirking this time.

She nods, feeling embarrassed.

"Yes, please…"

"Sure thing," he nods and approaches her.

He grabs hold of the zipper with one hand, the other resting on Chaeyoung's shoulder. His strength easily resists the dress, as it slides downwards without issue. She then sighs with relief, another piece of clothing is peeled off her body.

"Phew," she sighs, relieved. "Thank you."

"No problem," He smiles at her before gesturing at her if he can let go of the dress. "May I?"

"Yes," she replies with a smile, her eyes glancing at his hands.

He lets go of his hands and like a swift wind, her orange dress slides down her body. Chaeyoung’s partner stands there, admiring her figure as she is left in her white buttoned shirt with a hint of her blue panties peeking from the bottom.

"Wow. You look beautiful," he compliments her, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Thank you," he smiles and blushes.

She then goes back to business and unbuttons her shirt, revealing her bright blue bra. She slowly slides the garment down her arms, slowly revealing her slender body to him. He can't help but have his mouth open, his eyes admiring her beautiful physique. If anyone else was in his position, they would've pounced at her and ravished her right then and there, but he doesn't. He restrains himself as much as he can. And who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen along the way.

After a few seconds of gazing at her, he snaps himself back to reality, remembering the challenge at hand.

"So?" he asks her. "Ready?"

She nods, smiling. "Yes. Shall we?"

"After you," he gestures at her to dip in first.

Chaeyoung nods again and walks closer to the pool. She steps in it, slightly wincing as the water comes up to her calves.

"Ooh! It's cold," she whines, slightly grimacing.

"Are you okay?" he asks, curious to hear her response. "Is the water good?"

"I'm fine," she says, reassuring him. "Just a little chilly."

"Good to hear," he giggles, following her into the pool.

They perform quick stretches before they position themselves to face each other, ready to play a game of water polo.

"So, the goal is to score as many goals as I can, right?" Chaeyoung asks, feeling excited and nervous about the challenge at hand.

"Yes. So do your best," he replies with a wide grin, excitement evident in his tone.

"Right," she smiles, nodding at his response. "And go easy on me."

"I'll try," he chuckles, his eyes smiling along with his lips.

Chaeyoung then nods and readies herself to play.

The clock begins to tick, counting down before starting the game.

3… 2… 1…

And with a loud horn, the game starts.

The slightly serene water of the pool is replaced with large splashes as the two move fast toward the ball floating in the middle. Chaeyoung’s partner was able to reach it first with his long arms, but she swiftly reacted by swatting it away. Both then swim as fast as they can to recover the ball. Luckily for her, the water moves the ball closer to her position and she can reach it just before he does.

"Not too bad," he comments, impressed at how fast she is.

She smirks as if she already has a plan in mind. "You better get ready!"

Chaeyoung rushes toward the goal as fast as she can. In response, her partner moves towards it as well to defend it. As they near the goal, Chaeyoung, with the ball in her hands, attempts a big swing towards it, aiming for the side. He catches onto her plan and immediately positions himself in front of the goal, blocking it. With no time to waste, she lets out a loud grunt as she propels the ball out of his hands, hoping that it lands in the goal.

Unfortunately, the ball falls short, falling inches in front of him instead.

She grimaces as her attempt to score fails.

“Ah, no way!”

"Nice try, though," he says, smirking.

She hesitates to approach the ball for another attempt. But as she sees him, who is much closer, reaching for it, she abandons her plan.

"Oh, no…" she hisses. "Not on my watch."

Without a moment's hesitation, Chaeyoung drags herself towards her own end of the pool, leaving her partner with the ball. As she gets nearer to her goal line, she looks back to check his position. And to her surprise, he's already behind her, halfway through the pool, with the ball in his hands.

"Okay!" he yells, smiling. "My turn!"

"Wha—?!" she reacts, her eyes widening.

"Got you!" he says, as he winds her arms for the throw.

"Wait! That's unfair!" she frantically swims away, attempting to put some distance between them.

With the ball in his hands, he throws it straight towards the goal. As Chaeyoung desperately tries to catch up to the ball, she slips backward. This causes her to flail her arms and legs wildly. But with a stroke of luck, as she stumbles around in the pool, her feet catch the ball, hitting it. The ball then flies outside of the pool, landing on the hard floor of the facility.

"Oh!" he exclaims as he watches everything unfold. "That was something else."

After a few moments, Chaeyoung recovers her footing and is then left standing in the shallow pool, still disoriented from the tumble.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

She nods and raises her hand as if giving him a thumbs up. She wipes the water from her face and her hair, taking a few breaths as she recollects her thoughts.

"I'm okay," she chuckles, trying to catch her breath.

"That was quite a tumble you did," he comments, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah. I slipped," she replies, slightly shaking her head.

"I saw that," he giggles. "Are you good to go?"

"Yeah. Just a little bit dizzy," she reassures him, a hint of exhaustion in her tone.

"Okay. Let me just go get the ball," he says, getting off the pool to retrieve the ball.

"Wait. Where did it land?" she asks, scanning her surroundings for the lost item.

"It flew outside of the pool," he then pointed towards a spot outside. "Over there."

"Oh…" her eyes widen as she realizes her blunder. "I can't believe I kicked it that far."

He chuckles. "It happens to everyone. It's fine."

He quickly gets to where the ball is and picks it up.

"Let me get that," she says, moving towards him.

"Thanks," he smiles before softly tossing the ball to her. "Here you go."

"Oop!" she yelps, catching the ball in her hands. "Got it!"

"Nice catch," he praises her, smiling as he tosses himself into the pool.

"Thanks!" she smiles and waves, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Alright. Another round?" he asks, eager to start another round.

She nods. "Sure."

They again position themselves before resuming the game.

"Since you touched the ball before it went outside the pool," he says, looking at her. "The possession goes to me."

"Ah…" Chaeyoung sighs. "Fair enough."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance to score."

"Yeah, yeah," she nods, smiling. "Do your worst."

She then throws the ball to him as they're about to start another round.

"No hard feelings?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Nah," She chuckles.

"But don't underestimate me."

"We'll see about that," he smiles as the horns sound, resuming the game.

Chaeyoung’s partner immediately makes a beeline towards the goal. His slim yet muscular build allows him to cut through the water with ease. But Chaeyoung isn't just a pretty face, as her lithe frame helps her keep up with his speed. Together with her silly and rather "unorthodox" methods of blocking him from scoring, her strategy is paying off, even though her opponent is much bigger than her. Neither of them is advancing any further, the two seemingly in a deadlock.

"You're good at this," he asks, impressed.

"Am I now?" she replies, smiling.

"Yes," he grins. "You should consider doing water polo as a hobby."

"I guess I should," she responds, giggling.

He chuckles. "Good to hear."

Their game goes on for quite some time with them in the same spot, neither of them scoring anything.  Chaeyoung is doing everything she can to block his every move and eventually steal the ball from him, while her partner tries to get past her and keep the ball from her. They are growing tired of this stalemate, but neither of them is giving up anytime soon.

"Okay, now…" he suddenly pauses, raising his arms in the air.

"Eh?" Chaeyoung is left confused. "What now?"

"Time to score," he makes a sudden dash towards the goal.

"Hey! Wait!" she yelps, attempting to block him.

His sudden burst of energy catches her off guard and causes her to stumble again. He quickly uses this opportunity to gain more ground. He is slowly getting past her.

"Wait up… Nghh!" she groans as she desperately tries to catch up to him.

"This is it!" he declares, his voice filled with excitement.

He then winds up his arms for a throw. But as he is doing so, Chaeyoung quickly recovers and desperately halts his movements just in time, her arms locking with his, rendering him unable to shoot the ball.

"No, you won't!" She grunts, determined to stop him.

He is left powerless as he feels her strength, her hands clasping his tightly.

"Woah! You're strong," he gasps, taken aback by her power.

She looks at him, her eyes gleaming with confidence and determination.

"Not gonna let that happen!"

They continue to struggle against each other, their bodies touching as they attempt to overcome one another. As the situation for the first goal becomes tense, their clashing bodies cause them to stumble and fall into the water. But even after falling, Chaeyoung's hands remain firm on his, determined not to lose. In such desperation, she tries to grab a hold of him in any way that she can. She manages to get a grip on his waist, but that's when things take a turn for the worse.

As Chaeyoung’s partner finds a way to let go of her, her hands unknowingly grab her trunks. With not a lot of options in his hands, he decides to just sprint for the goal. But as he does so, her tight grip causes the trunks to slide off his waist, revealing his privates.

"What the?" his eyes widened, caught off guard by what happened.

"Ahh!" she lets out a yelp, surprised.

His face flushes in embarrassment as he tries to cover his private area with the ball in his arms.

"Wait a minute. Lemme just…" He fumbles around, trying to pull his trunks back up.

"Ah! Uhh… Sorry!" she apologizes, feeling flustered.

"Heheh… No worries," he giggles, feeling awkward about the situation.

She blushes, avoiding his gaze. "I'm really sorry about that."

"No, really. It's all good," he says, smiling.

"I wasn't thinking that…" she says, shaking her head.

"No need to worry. It was an accident," he says, grinning.

"Right," she responds, nodding. "Still, I'm really sorry."

"It's alright," he reassures her. "We can still continue the game."

"Mhmm… Sure," she nods, still looking flustered from the incident.

"Hmmm…" he inspected her for a moment, thinking. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Yes. I'm fine," she replies, nodding.

"Okay. If you say so," he responds.

"But how about we take a break?"

"Can we?" she asks, feeling excited at the thought.

"Sure. Seems like we both could use a breather," he says, grinning.

"Well… Alright then," she giggles.

He then extends his hand, gesturing at her to take his hand.

"Shall we?"

She grabs her hand as he helps her get back up.

"Thanks," she says, smiling.

"No problem," he grins.

They then get off the pool, walking towards a row of lounge chairs placed nearby.

"Ahh…" she sighs as she sits on the chair stretching her body. "That was exhausting."

"Yeah," he nods as he hands her over a pair of towels. "But was it fun?"

"Definitely!" she smiles as she grabs one of the towels. "Thank you, by the way."

“Don't mention it," he grins. "So how about some drinks?"

"I would love to," she smiles as she wraps herself in the towel. "I'll wait here if that's alright with you."

Chaeyoung's partner then heads over to the bar nearby to get some refreshments. She is left to her thoughts, thinking about how the game went so far.

“Jeez. This is really exciting.”

A smile spreads across her face, feeling delighted about the current situation. She then feels a slight tingle down her thighs, as if she's getting turned on.

"Nghh… This is bad," she whispers to herself, stroking her thighs, attempting to calm her urges.

She then looks at where her partner is, watching him grab a couple of drinks at the bar. He seems to be taking his time doing so.

The coast is clear.

She shifts her thighs, trying to ease the sensation. But instead of stopping, it only gets stronger. She lets out a soft moan, her body feeling the familiar heat.

"No, not here," she whispers to herself, her hands stroking her thighs, attempting to calm her urges.

As if she can't control her body anymore, her fingers wander downwards. A sudden wave of pleasure washes over her as her fingers gently touch her pussy.

"Fuck… So good," she murmurs, her fingers continuing to play with her wet lips.

Chaeyoung, unable to resist the temptation, decides to give in. Her fingers continue to tease her body, her pussy getting wetter with each touch. She begins to slowly up the pace, muffling her moans as her fingers thrust in and out of her pussy.

"Hngh!" she hisses, biting her lip. "So close…."

She begins to quicken her pace, her fingers plunging deep into her pussy. The intense stimulation causes her legs to buckle, her toes curling with pleasure.

"Ugh… Yes…" she gasps, her fingers fucking her pussy fast.

Her fingers reach deeper into her, sending a powerful surge of pleasure up her spine. She is close to the climax.

But just as she's about to reach her orgasm, the sudden sound of her partner's voice causes her to freeze in her tracks.

"Hey, Chaeyoung…" his voice rings in her ears.

Her eyes dart towards the direction of the voice. He's getting close.

"Shit! What timing," she hisses, frustrated, quickly removing her hand from her pussy.

She then quickly pulls her hands up and wipes her juices on the towel. She adjusts her sitting position afterward, trying to make herself look natural.

“Sorry, I took so long,” he apologizes as he hands her a cold bottle of soda. “Here’s your drink.”

"Oh! T-thank you," she replies, her hands shaking as she grabs the bottle.

"Hmmm…" he looks at her, curious. "Are you okay?"

"M-me? Yeah! I'm fine," she replies, laughing awkwardly.

“Are you sure?” he continues to stare at her, looking as if he doesn't believe her. “You look red.”

"R-red? Me?" she giggles awkwardly. “I-it’s probably the… Heat. Yes! T-that’s it.”

"Well…" he says, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know if I grabbed a good drink for you. The bar doesn't seem to have much to offer."

"It's fine! T-this is nice," she giggles.

"Well that's good to hear," he smiles, before laying down on the chair next to her.

She opens her bottle and gulps down half of the content as if her throat is parched.

"Phew…" she sighs, wiping her mouth.

"You seem thirsty," he comments.

His sudden query almost made Chaeyoung spill her drink.

"T-thirsty?" she frantically responds, almost stuttering.

"Yeah. You seem to be sipping your drink fast," he points out.

"Ahh… That. Hehehe," she awkwardly giggles, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Well, y’know… It's been a hot day."

"Yeah. It sure is," he replies, relaxing his body. "This weather makes me feel hot and sticky."

"Sticky, huh…" she murmurs to herself, trying to keep her composure.

"So how's the game so far? You're holding up well," he compliments her, a playful grin on his face.

"Ah, yes," she nods, laughing. "I, uhh… I'm doing my best."

"You have the makings of a good water polo player," he adds, his grin growing wider.

"Is that so?" she continues to laugh, her cheeks blushing.

"You gave me a hard score, after all," he remarks, chuckling.

"I did, didn't I?" she giggles, feeling embarrassed.

"Yeah. You're creative in your tactics, too," he adds.

"C-creative?" she asks, curious.

"Well, you know…" he then slightly tugs her swimming trunks, reminding her of the silly incident earlier.

"O-oh," she blushes, remembering what happened. "That one…"

"It was a pretty bold move if you ask me," he chuckles, amused.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen," she apologizes, looking embarrassed.

"You don't have to apologize," he says, his voice calm.

"I… I got so into the game that I didn't notice what I was doing," she explains, looking embarrassed.

"Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?" he jokes, smirking. "I might even do the same thing if the situation calls for it."

Chaeyoung's eyes then widened, surprised at his answer. "R-really? You mean…"

"Just kidding!" he bursts into laughter, finding her reaction amusing. "You're only in your underwear, so I wouldn't consider doing that."

"But you're only wearing trunks yourself!" she exclaims, chuckling. "We're pretty much on the same boat here."

"So are you proposing an 'equal' fight, then?" he grins, teasing her.

"Well… I mean…" Chaeyoung blushes, feeling shy. "Ah! Forget what I said."

"Come on now. Don't get shy on me," he teases, smirking.

She hesitates to let out what's on her mind. Granted her sexual frustration and her partner's teasing are getting the better of her, but she eventually gives in.

"Fine," she grumbles.

"So what is it?" he asks, his voice calm and patient.

"Well," she pauses for a moment, her eyes wandering. "I was just saying that maybe it's okay if we could just—"

The horn suddenly blares aloud, interrupting her speech.

"Oh. Time's up already?" he asks, getting back up.

Chaeyoung then sighs at the impeccable timing. "So it is."

"Well, shall we go back?" he asks, lending her a hand to stand up.

"Sure," she replies, nodding. "Let's go."

They then both head back into the water to continue where they left off. They are left with 23 minutes on the clock.

"Ready for more?" he asks, smiling.

She smiles, her body ready. "Yeah. Let's do this!"

And with another loud blare of the horn, the game resumes.

Both of them hauls ass towards the middle, trying to get to the ball first. Chaeyoung manages to reach the ball first and firmly grasps it with both hands.

"Aha!" she declares. "Got it!"

"Nicely done!" her partner applauds her, smiling.

"Hehe… Thanks," she replies, giggling. "Now it's my turn!"

She does all she can to reach the goal as fast as she can. However, his athletic frame makes him move to block it before she can reach it.

"I want to see you try scoring again," he says, smirking.

"Aish…" She grunts, her eyes determined. "We'll see about that."

As Chaeyoung approaches the goal, she slowly thinks of a way to overcome him. An idea then suddenly pops into her head, giving her a newfound motivation.

"Okay…" she mumbles, as she comes up with a plan.

"Ready when you are," he firmly stands in his position, his eyes fixed on the ball.

Suddenly, she then attempts a flurry of fake shots, jumping in all directions in the hopes of baiting him to fall off-balance. As silly as she looks, her partner reacts in kind, trying to block her in every direction she jumps.

"I'm gonna get you!" she declares, giggling.

"Try if you can," he retorts, his grin widening.

As competitive as they get, a glimmer of joy and fun is present in their eyes. They're having fun. The fierce tension in the air doesn't stop them from enjoying themselves.

After a few moments, Chaeyoung finally takes the bait and dashes straight towards the goal, the ball in her hand. Her partner follows suit, hoping to stop her. They both rush towards each other to accomplish their own plans. As they come closer to each other and the tension continues to rise, Chaeyoung decides to jump out of the water as high as she can and throws the ball towards the goal.

"Get in there!" she yells as she lets go of the ball.

He reacts by reaching for the ball with his hand, attempting to block the shot.

"Got it!" he said in glee.

But in the nick of time, Chaeyoung swats the ball away with her hands, sending it upwards towards the goal.

They were frozen in their tracks, watching where the ball would land. A mix of emotions fills them both as it comes nearer to the goal.

"Did I score?"

"Did she miss?"

The ball then touches the edge of the goal, sending it bouncing to the side and landing a few inches away from the goal line.

"Agh! No!" Chaeyoung cries as the ball falls short of the goal.

"Whew! That was a close one," her partner exclaims, a bit exhausted.

He then rushes to recover the ball, attempting to score his own. But despite her failed attempt, she is quick to react and runs for her side of the pool to defend her goal.

"No way am I letting you score that easily!" she declares, smirking

He chuckles. "Good. Bring it on, then."

He winds up his arms for a big throw, while she prepares herself for his next move. He throws the ball as high as he can, far from her reach. But Chaeyoung isn't going to let him win that easily. She jumps another time, and with her long reach, is able to grab the ball in mid-air. It sends the ball out of bounds, outside the pool.

"Nice!" she exclaims, pumping her fist in the air.

"Ugh…" he groans, slightly annoyed. "That was a good block."

"Thanks," she smiles. "I have a good opponent."

"I'm honored," he chuckles.

After exchanging compliments and a few seconds of rest, they again prepare themselves for more water polo. They continue to attempt to score a goal for themselves as the other party tries their best to block their every move. Their restraints are slowly coming off as the two of them are willing to get up close and personal with each other during the game. With how serious the two of them are getting, Chaeyoung's partner can't help but exert a bit of his strength tussling against her. His hands, in a desperate attempt to retrieve the ball, accidentally end up grasping the softness of her butt

"Hngh!" she suddenly lets out a sharp gasp.

"Oh. Sorry!" he apologizes, retracting his hands.

"It… It's fine," she quickly recovers, smiling. "D-don't worry about it."

"Alright then," he says, still looking a bit apologetic.

They continue playing, but the situation seems to have shifted into a more sexual one. It's evident in their eyes the fire that makes them determined to win the challenge. But at the same time, the same fire emanates a more intense passion between the two of them. Gone are the subtleties they have for each other from the first few minutes of the challenge, now they're going all out, showing no signs of holding back.

As the game goes on, the two's bodies are getting closer and closer. Their touches aren't accidental anymore. They're deliberate, seeking a certain sensation from each other. And as their excitement grows, so does the tension in the air. The desire to get to each other becomes more apparent with each passing moment. This isn't just a game anymore. It has become a test of wills—a battle to see who'll succumb first. Getting physical is the name of the game, after all. 

A few moments later, they again find themselves at a stalemate, the two staring at each other intently, neither giving up their guard.

"You're getting better at this," he comments, smirking.

She chuckles. "Not gonna let you score that easily."

"You think so, huh?" he asks, teasing her.

"Yeah, you bet," she replies, smirking.

"Well have at it, then," he says, challenging her.

As they are about to have another go, the horn blares out loud, catching their attention.

"Huh? Is it over already?" Chaeyoung asks, surprised.

"Doesn't seem like it," her partner responds, his gaze fixated on his timer. "We still have several minutes to go."

"Hmmm… Then what seems to be the—oh! Look at the screen."

They both then turn their heads toward the big screen in the middle. A message is being displayed, informing the players of another challenge.

"ATTENTION BOTH PLAYERS:

As neither player hasn't scored so far, we have decided to change the current challenge."

They are both confused, not expecting this sudden change.

"What does that mean?" Chaeyoung asks, perplexed.

"I have no idea," her partner shrugs. "Let's see what else is there to know."

The message on the screen changes again. It reads the following:

“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: SPLASH & BLAST

1. Can you be the best lover in the pool?

2. Try and make your partner cum as much as possible! There are no rules!"

3. Whoever cums the most loses.

4. Win this mission to earn your group a reward.

GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"

"Huh? What in the world is that?" Chaeyoung exclaims after reading the text on the screen, blushing.

"Woah!" his jaw drops, his eyes wide. "That's some challenge."

"So, are we really gonna…" she asks, looking at him, her face flustered.

"Looks like our game took a different turn, didn't it?" he chuckles, smiling at her.

"Yeah. I guess so," she giggles, her hands fiddling.

"Shall we… Do the challenge?" he asks, curious as to how she'll react.

She hesitates, her mind conflicted. However, the need to fulfill her lust and desires seems to overwhelm her, as she has no choice but to go with it.

"Uhmm… You see," she starts to say, her tone soft and a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"You haven't done this yet, have you?" he asks, his expression calm.

"I mean…" Chaeyoung fiddles with her fingers, not looking him in the eye. "N-not that I haven't, but…"

"It's fine," he reassures her, smiling. "Bad experience?"

She shakes her head. "N-not with the real one, at least."

"I see," he nods, his hand grazing over her arm. "It's alright. We can just take it slow."

"Y-yeah, I guess…" she nods, agreeing.

They slowly approach each other, their bodies becoming closer and closer. They stare at each other's eyes, their bodies shivering. He then reaches out his hand and gently holds her chin, lifting it up, his face moving closer. She feels the warmth of his breath, their lips a mere centimeter apart.

"So, shall we begin?" he whispers, his voice soft and gentle.

She doesn't respond. Instead, she closes her eyes and presses her lips against his, sealing the deal.

Their bodies are pressed against each other, their skin touching, as the kiss grows deeper and longer. She wraps her arms around his waist, her hands touching his back. He, on the other hand, moves his hand down her hips, grabbing her buttocks.

"Mmmh…" she moans softly as their tongues intertwine.

Chaeyoung’s partner then slowly moves his hands towards her breast, his fingers fondling it. She lets out another soft moan, feeling his fingers rub her nipple.

"Feeling good?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

She nods, "Y-yes…"

He smiles, happy to see her reaction.

"I'll take it further," he says as he begins kissing her neck.

"Ahh… That tickles," she giggles, his kisses causing her body to tingle.

He continues to kiss her neck, his tongue tracing the curves of Chaeyoung's delicate skin. She moans softly, enjoying the sensation. His hand then slowly moves downwards, cupping her buttocks.

"Mnnh!" she gasps, his hands kneading her ass.

He smirks, amused at her reaction.

"Liking it?" he asks, grinning.

"Ahhh! Y-yes," she stammers, her body shuddering.

"Good," he says, his tone gentle. "I hope you're ready for more."

He continues to knead her soft butt, his hands grabbing a handful of her soft, round flesh. She lets out a series of moans, her body shivering with pleasure.

"Ahh, fuck…" she moans, her breathing getting heavy.

Her partner then continues his advance. As he moves his lips down her neck and onto her chest, he slowly unclasps her drenched bra, freeing her breasts from its confinement.

"Oh, wow… Chaeyoung-ah," he whispers, his eyes fixed on her chest.

Chaeyoung's nipples are already erect and glistening with the water from the pool. He then looks at her, his eyes burning with lust and desire.

"How cute," he whispers, his fingers gently tracing her nipples.

"Not there, not—hngh!" she whimpers, her body jolting from the touch.

He then continues to fondle her breasts, his fingers massaging her nipples. Her face turns red, feeling a tingling sensation in her body.

"Fuck… So good…" she pants, her voice soft and weak.

"You're really sensitive here, aren't you?" he teases, his voice playful.

Chaeyoung nods, her face flushed. "I… I'm just not used to—nghh!."

He chuckles, finding her reaction adorable.

"Let's move on to something else, then," he says, his voice calm.

"W-what is it? What are we going to—"

He places his index finger on her lips, signaling her to stop talking.

"Hush, Chaeyoung."

Her partner then lowers himself and grabs her panties, slowly sliding them off. He tosses her soaked underwear outside the pool, leaving her fully naked.

Chaeyoung attempts to cover her body with her hands as much as she can, her cheeks burning from the embarrassment.

"I-I hope you're l-liking the view," she stutters, her face turning a deep shade of red.

"Of course I do," he replies, his voice firm.

"I-I don't think I'm that—"

"Shhh…" he again interrupts her. "There's no need to be shy."

"O-okay…" she replies, nodding.

"Just relax and let me take care of you," he says, his voice soft and gentle.

His words send shivers down her spine, her body shivering from his words.

He slowly moves Chaeyoung's hand that covers her crotch and spreads her legs open, exposing her wet pussy.

"Such a pretty sight," he murmurs, admiring her glistening pussy.

"Mmmh… Can you stop?" she groans, her pussy aching with need.

"Oh, I’m sorry," he chuckles, his hands gently caressing her thighs.

"I'll get right into it."

"P-please… I can't wait," she stammers, her face red.

His hands slowly move upwards towards her inner thighs, his fingers grazing her delicate skin.

"So soft… So warm," he whispers, his fingers touching her folds.

"Aah! T-that's so good," she whimpers, her breathing getting heavy.

His fingers continue to explore her wet pussy, his fingertips caressing her sensitive clit.

"You're so wet, Chaeyoung," he teases, his fingers brushing against her swollen clit.

"T-that's because we… We're in w-water," she stutters, her body trembling.

"Excuses, excuses," he laughs, his tone playful. "You know what I mean."

"I-I can't help it!" she whines, her face flushed. "You're making me… Feel s-so good."

"Then let me make you feel even better," he says, his fingers now slowly penetrating her tight pussy.

"Ahh! Oh fuck," she yelps, her body shivering.

"Looks like you liked that," he whispers, his fingers pumping inside her.

She nods in response, her body shuddering with each thrust.

He adds another finger, his digits begin to thrust faster and harder.

"Fuck. So tight," he compliments, his voice husky. "You're taking my fingers so well"

"Ahhh! It's so… Deep!" Chaeyoung moans, her eyes shut tight.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, his fingers moving at a steady pace.

"Y-yes! Oh, shit. Yes!" she stammers, her body shuddering.

"Looks like you can't last much longer," he teases, his fingers continuing their assault.

"P-please… I'm gonna…" she looks at him with pleading eyes.

"Then go ahead. Cum for me," he commands, his fingers plunging deep.

Her body shakes as her orgasm approaches. She tries to grip whatever part of his body as best she can as her muscles tighten.

"I’m… I'm gonna!" she pants, her eyes squeezed shut.

"That's it, Chaeyoung. Just let go," he encourages, his voice gentle.

Finally, her body twitches and shudders, her pussy squeezing his fingers as her orgasm hits her hard. Her hips buck wildly, her body squirming as waves of pleasure wash over her. She elicits a loud moan as her pussy contracts, her juices spraying all over his hand.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" she yells, her body spasming.

"Good girl," he compliments her, his fingers still thrusting inside her.

"I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm cumming!" she cries, her voice quivering.

"Keep cumming," he instructs as he continues to finger her, his fingers reaching deeper inside her.

"Please! Ahhh!" she moans, her body shivering with ecstasy.

"Come on, Chaeyoung. Let it all out," he says, his voice calm.

"I-I can't! I'm gonna… I'm gonna—ahhh!" she screams, her pussy squeezing his fingers one last time before releasing a huge gush of fluid, like a floodgate bursting open to the pool.

"Yes! Yes! Agh!" she screams, her body convulsing as she cums, her juices spraying onto her partner's hand.

He slowly pulls out his fingers, his hands sticky from her fluids.

"You sure did cum a lot, Chaeyoung," he comments, a playful grin on his face.

She doesn't answer, her face red, her body shivering with aftershocks. Her chest heaves, her breaths coming in ragged pants.

"So how was it?" he asks, curious about her thoughts.

"I'm… I can't think," she murmurs, her voice weak.

He chuckles, amused by her reaction.

"Seems like you liked that," he says, his tone teasing.

As much as she hates to admit it, she replies with a subtle nod.

"Though I hope you're ready for more," he whispers, grinning.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death of me," she grunts, her breath still shaky.

"Don't worry," he replies, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'll be more gentle this time."

"For some reason, I don't believe you," she responds, her voice a mix of frustration and excitement.

"Oh, come on. I promise," he replies, his tone playful.

She sighs at his silly plea. "Fine. Whatever."

"So, anything on your mind?" he asks her, an excited glint in his eye.

Chaeyoung tries to think of something interesting to do with her partner. After a few seconds, she giggles before looking at him with a seductive smirk.

"How about…" she pauses for a moment, trying to build the tension.

"What is it?" he asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Hmmm… Come with me first!" She then grabs his arm and pulls him towards the edge of the pool.

He complies and allows her to drag him with her. Once they reach the edge, she pulls him in for a kiss before playfully pushing him, his back now against the wall.

"What now?" he asks, curious.

She doesn't reply, instead, her hands slowly move downwards. He gets the message and lets her work on removing his swimming trunks.

Chaeyoung's delicate hands slowly pull his shorts down, freeing his half-hard member. It seems that it hasn't reached its full size yet, but her eyes are fixed on such a huge object.

"Mmmh… It's so big," she murmurs, her eyes staring at his cock.

"I'm flattered," he smirks, his voice calm yet playful.

"You must be popular with the girls," she says, a playful smile on her face.

He chuckles. "You can say that."

She continues to stroke his member, her soft hands rubbing against his shaft. He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her hands touching his skin.

"Ooh… Yeah," he groans. "You feel so nice."

"T-thank you," she giggles, her eyes glimmering with lust. "I'm trying to make this fucking cock bigger."

"Well, you're doing a good job," he grins, his cock slowly growing hard.

"Glad you're liking it," she replies as her pace gets faster, her hands quickly moving up and down his cock.

"Ugh… That's so good," he grunts, his hips rocking as her hands work their magic on his throbbing shaft.

"Enjoying the service?" she teases a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"Why wouldn't I?" he responds, his voice calm. "You're good at this."

She giggles, amused at his comment. "Beginner's luck, I guess."

"I can't tell if you're serious or joking," he replies, chuckling.

"Who knows?" she winks. "Does it matter?"

He pulls Chaeyoung closer, their faces mere inches from each other. The tension between the two continues to build, their breaths coming out hot and heavy as they stare into each other's eyes.

"Not in the slightest," he says, his tone deep and husky.

Without warning, his lips crash into hers, his hands pulling her even closer. His tongue slides into her mouth, exploring every inch of her soft, warm cavity. The young lady, as inviting as ever, reciprocates with an eagerness of her own.

Their tongues intertwine, their lips locked together. The two are locked in a passionate embrace as if they are two lovers who haven't seen each other in years. They continue to press their bodies against each other, their breaths becoming louder and hotter as the kiss becomes more intense.

As their kiss grows more and more passionate, his cock throbs in her hands, her pace getting faster and faster. As his shaft becomes harder and harder in her hands, it pulsates and begins to twitch.

"Are you close?" Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, a seductive smile can be seen on her face.

He nods, his cock fully erect and ready to burst.

The response from her partner causes her to increase her pace, her soft, delicate hands stroking his shaft vigorously. His hips begin to rock, his breathing getting heavier and faster.

"F-fuck… I'm so close…"

"Yes. Let it out," she purrs, her voice sultry. "Give me all of it."

"Chaeyoung-ah, I'm gonna…"

With one final stroke, his cock bursts, releasing a massive load of thick, white cum, covering her hands. She does her best to catch all of his semen in her hands, but the excessive amount he releases proves to be too much for her to handle and drips to the water below. She continues to stroke his shaft, milking his cock as her hands are fully covered in his seed.

"Oh, fuck…" he groans, his cock twitching as his load spurts out of his cock.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she asks, smirking.

"Hell yeah, I did," he chuckles, his body feeling exhausted.

"I can see why you're popular with the girls," she teases, her fingers scooping his seed and licking it off her fingers.

"Delicious."

He smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"But.." she smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. "The game's not over yet."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Chaeyoung quickly lowers herself, her face now positioned right in front of his member. Without hesitation, she engulfs his cock with her mouth, her lips wrapping around the tip. Little by little, she forces herself to take his girthy shaft, her throat struggling to fit his length.

"H-hey!" he exclaims, surprised at her bold move.

She ignores her partner and continues to suck his cock, her pace increasing. Her mouth makes slurping noises, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks him vigorously.

"Mmmh," she hums, his cock deep in her mouth.

"F-fuck… That's so good," he moans, his voice heavy with pleasure.

"I know," she mumbles, her lips wrapped around his cock.

"God… So good," he growls, his hips moving.

She continues to suck him, her head bobbing up and down his shaft. She looks up at him, her eyes filled with lust and desire looking straight at him. Her eyes are like that of a predator, her prey now at her mercy.

"Ugh, shit…" he mutters, his breathing becoming heavier. "You're eager to get ahead of me, huh?"

She didn't answer. But her increase in speed and intensity is proof of her determination to beat him.

"Yes, that's it. Just like that," he praises, his voice heavy with arousal. "Fuck… Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She retreats and releases his member, a thick strand of cum and saliva connecting his swollen tip and her soft lips.

"Hope you don't mind me getting another point," she teases, a playful grin on her face.

"Just get on with it, " he grunts, smiling. "Fuck, you're a lewd sight."

"Oh shut up and enjoy, will you?" She teases, her tone sultry.

"You don't have to ask me twice," he chuckles, amused.

Chaeyoung again engulfs his shaft, her tongue lapping on his sensitive skin. She takes him whole in one go this time, his cock hitting the back of her throat. Her eager attempt causes her to choke, but she does her best to not gag.

"Fuck… You're too good," he praises, his voice shaking.

She resumes to suck his cock, her head moving up and down his shaft. Her throat quickly adjusts to his size, allowing her to take him in deeper and deeper. Her eyes never leave him, her gaze fixated on him as her mouth is full of his member, her head bobbing furiously.

"Fuck! I think I'm gonna cum again," he grunts, his breathing becoming ragged.

Like a signal, her pace increases. She is determined to make him cum again. She wants more of his semen. She is hungry for it.

"H-holy fuck," he pants, his eyes shutting tight. "I'm close, Chaeyoung!"

Her pace increases even more, her head wildly bobbing up and down his length as she attempts to make him cum. She can't seem to resist his taste, as if it's a drug.

"S-shit… I'm gonna explode!" he growls, his body twitching.

She feels his cock pulsating in her mouth, his length fully erect and ready to burst. She drives herself to the brink of madness, her pace so fast and violent that she begins to gag. She doesn't care. She wants his semen. She needs it.

With a loud, guttural moan, his hips buck and his cock explodes, sending a massive load of his hot seed inside her mouth. Her eyes widen as she struggles to take it all in, but his release is too much, catching her off guard. A thick trail of his cum drips out of her mouth and down her chin. She gags and chokes, but she does her best to swallow every last drop. His orgasm continues for a few moments longer, his load continuing to spew inside her mouth, his cock pulsating and throbbing.

"Fuck! S-so good," he pants, his body shuddering.

After an almost non-stop stream of cum, his cock finally stops releasing, and Chaeyoung slowly withdraws from him. Thick strands of his semen and saliva connect his shaft and her lips, making an erotic mess of her. It seems crazy how such a pretty girl like her can look even more attractive with the amount of cum on her face.

"Goddamn," he says, his breathing heavy. "That was amazing."

She licks her lips clean, his cum still dripping down her chin.

"How was it, hmmm?" she asks, her voice sultry.

"Amazing. Best blowjob ever."

"Good," she smiles, her expression smug. "I can tell you enjoyed it."

"You bet I did."

"It's not everyday an idol would give anyone a… Special fanservice."

"Guess I'm a lucky fan, then."

"Lucky indeed. Though the game's not over yet, is it"

"What do you mean? I already came twice."

"Doesn't mean we're done, does it?"

Despite spurting such a huge amount twice in a row, her words seem to excite him still. His cock springs back to life, already at half-mast.

"You're right," he grins, leaning closer to her. "We're not done yet."

"That's the spirit," she smiles. "Though I'll be taking the lead."

"Oh?"

"You can rest for a bit," she says, her tone playful.

"You think I can't keep up with you?" he asks in an intrigued yet playful tone.

"Not really," she giggles. "You just look like you're about to pass out."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," she replies, chuckling. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

Feeling challenged, he quickly grabs Chaeyoung by her legs and lifts her up the water.

"I'm gonna show you that I can still keep up," he growls, his eyes full of determination.

"W-woah!" she yelps, taken aback by his sudden move. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you a ride," he responds, his hands firmly gripping her thighs.

"Eh? A r-ride?"

"That's right," He nods, smiling. His cock slightly grazes against her inner thighs, slowly nearing her crotch. "You wanted to lead, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then here's your chance," he interrupts, grinning.

"Wait, what are you—oh! Oh fuck!" she gasps, suddenly feeling his cock penetrating her pussy.

He enters her with a powerful thrust, his shaft sliding all the way inside her tight, warm walls.

"Shit. So tight," he groans, his cock throbbing inside her.

"F-fuck… Y-you're so big!" she whimpers, feeling his girth stretching her insides.

"And you're soaking wet, Chaeyoung," he smirks, amused.

"W-what are you talking about? I'm not—ahh!" she moans, her body jolting with every thrust.

"I'm not gonna let you win that easily," he grunts, his pace slow but firm.

"Oh yeah? Nghh! Y-you… Think you're gonna w-win?"

"Still underestimating me, huh?" he growls, his fingers digging into her fleshy butt.

Despite the tough shell she displays, his aggressive moves make her moan involuntarily. Her arms wrap around his neck, while her legs lock around his waist. Try as she might, the immense pleasure seems to be flooding her inhibitions away.

"Nghh! F-fuck…" 

"You're liking this, huh?" her partner taunts her as his pace quickens.

"Ahh… S-so good," she whispers, her voice shaking.

"That's what I thought," he smirks.

He continues to pound her with his cock, his shaft reaching her deepest depths.

"F-fuck! D-don't… Go faster!" Chaeyoung screams, her face flushed.

"Who do you think will win, huh?" he teases, his voice full of arrogance.

"Fuck you!" she snaps, her body trembling.

"I like it when you talk dirty," he chuckles, amused.

He thrusts his cock deep inside her, causing her to gasp.

"Nghhh! Shit!" she yells, her pussy tightening around his shaft.

"Feeling good?"

"N-no! I'm just… Mhhh!" she protests, her voice weak.

"Just admit it," he says, his cock pulsating inside her.

"Aghhh! T-that's cheating!" she complains, her body shuddering.

"Excuses, excuses…" he smirks, his thrusts becoming deeper and stronger.

"I'm gonna… W-win, you know," she boasts, challenging him.

"Really, huh?" he chuckles, looking at her dazed eyes. "Looks like you can't even think properly."

"You're just… Nghhh! You're moving too fast!" she exclaims, her voice weak.

"Then if that's the case…" he then walks slowly towards the pool stairs, his cock still deep inside her.

"W-what are you… Hahh! What are you doing?"

"Giving you a proper ride," he says, his tone smug.

He takes slow but heavy steps as he carries her towards the pool stairs, making her squeal with each movement.

"You… Y-you're so mean," she whines, her pussy tightening.

"Sorry, Chaeyoung. But we're against each other here," he says, his eyes full of mischief.

"Fuck!" she whispers angrily to herself in frustration.

"What's the matter?" he taunts, his cock sliding inside her with ease.

"N-nothing… Hngh!" she grunts, her teeth gritting.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Fuck! Just… Just fucking fuck me! Goddammit!" Chaeyoung admittedly yells, her face red and flushed.

"Now that's more like it," he smirks, amused.

Her partner resumes his relentless assault, pounding her hard and deep as they near the edge of the pool. Chaeyoung's moans are getting louder and louder, her body quivers as if she got shocked by lightning.

"Shit… You're so big…" she whispers, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Feeling good, aren't you?" he taunts, his pace steady.

"Nghh… No!" she replies, her trembling in frustration and pleasure. "T-this is… Fuck!"

"That's what I thought," he sneers.

"Ahhh! When are you gonna stop?" she whines, her voice full of desperation.

"When I'm done," he answers, his tone casual.

"Y-you…" she grunts, her face red. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Of course," he answers with a smug grin on his face.

"Oh, fuck me…" she whispers, her breathing heavy.

"Looks like someone's getting close," he comments, his voice full of amusement.

"No I'm not! I'm—fuck!" she snaps, her voice shaking.

"Come on. You're denying it but you're pussy's getting tighter," he teases.

"Nghh… Fine!" she finally gives in.

"I'm… Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"There we go," he smirks, his cock throbbing. "An honest answer."

"B-but… Not before you!" she shouts, her pussy squeezing his cock.

"Heh. Still got some fight left in you, huh?"

"M-maybe… I-I don't know!" she yells, her face red.

"Well, if that's the case, then I better make sure you can't keep up," he sneers, his cock pounding her with reckless abandon as he exits the pool. Despite his aggressive movements, he gently lowers Chaeyoung to the pool’s deck, his cock never leaving the tight embrace of her walls.

He then continues his relentless assault, his thrusts deep and rough. He moves his hands to her breasts and starts to massage her perky, erect nipples.

"F-fuck… Not my nipples!" she whimpers, her pussy clenching around his shaft.

"Feels good, huh?"

"Hahh… Y-yes," she admits, her face flushed.

"There’s a good girl," he smiles, his fingers pinching her nipples. He then leans forward to suck on them, his tongue swirling around her sensitive nubs.

"Aghh! Don't suck on them!" she whines, her voice weak.

He doesn't answer. He keeps on sucking her nipple as his cock pounds her as deep and as hard as he could.

"Fuck! I'm gonna go crazy, you asshole!" she yells, her face red and hot.

"That's what I like to hear," he chuckles.

"But I'm not… Losing… To you!" Chaeyoung grunts, sounding determined despite her weak position.

"We'll see about that," her partner replies, his pace picking up.

"Ahhh! Fuck! You're going too fast!" she protests, her hands reaching for his back, her nails digging into his skin.

He continues his relentless assault, his pace unrelenting as his cock ravages her insides.

"S-stop…" she whispers, her body shivering with pleasure. "I can't take it anymore!"

"Then cum," he says, his breath heavy. "I know you want to."

"B-but… But I…"

"Shhh…" he shushes her. "I'll do it with you."

"Nghh… B-but I'm not gonna lose to—"

His lips interrupt her words, gently crashing into hers. Chaeyoung tries to resist, but her mind becomes blank as his tongue slides into her mouth.

Despite the feisty attitude she's showing towards him, she kisses him back as their tongues intertwine in a passionate dance. Gone are their antagonistic antics against each other, and the only evident thing are fervent thrusts and muffled moans from the two of them.

The tension builds and their kiss grows more intense. Their hips move together as one, their bodies grinding against each other. They are locked in a passionate embrace, their desire burning deep within them.

"Fuck," he groans. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

"Aghh! S-stop… You're making me…" she stammers, her voice soft.

"Come on, Chaeyoung. Give me all you got," he whispers, his cock pounding her deep.

"F-fuck…" she grunts, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm gonna cum again!"

"That's right," he coos in her ears. "Let me feel you cum."

"Y-yes!" she cries, her voice strained. "Oh shit… Ahh!"

With a loud moan, Chaeyoung’s pussy clenches his cock, her body convulsing as her orgasm hits her hard, waves of pleasure washing over her. She can't do anything but hold onto her partner’s back as her orgasm ravages her body, her arms and legs locked around him. Her juices spray uncontrollably out of her, covering his cock with her sticky fluids.

"Ahh! Fuck!" he yells, his body shivering as his orgasm approaches. "My turn… Hngh!"

"C-cum inside me, p-please…" she begs, her voice weak.

"Here it comes… Nrgh!"

After a few wild thrusts, his cock bursts inside her, releasing a huge load of his thick, hot seed. His hips rock and buck as his cock spews a massive stream of cum, his semen overflowing from her tight pussy.

"Yes! Oh fuck! Your cum feels so warm inside me," she moans, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Ugh… Take it all, Chaeyoung!" he growls as he continues to thrust all he's got inside her.

"Fuck… I can feel it coming out of my pussy," she moans, her pussy still squirting her fluids.

"Shit. You're so hot, Chaeyoung" he grunts and goes to kiss her once again.

"Mmmh… I love your cock," she purrs, her body shaking.

They continue this sensual moment, their bodies pressed together, their mouths locked in a passionate embrace. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure for the two of them, and they reveled every second of it. Despite being filmed, they didn't care. All that mattered was the moment they were sharing that burned deep within their minds.

As the intense lovemaking subsides, their lips break apart from each other. He withdraws himself from her, his cock covered with their mixed juices that connect from her freshly fucked pussy. He then moves a few inches away from her, trying to take a seated position with his exhausted body. Chaeyoung on the other hand, is left panting, her body trembling, her chest heaves for air and her pussy gushes out their mixed fluids, leaving a trail of love juice that pools below her.

"Hahh… Hah… Oh fuck…" he breathes, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Nghh… Are you… Okay?" Chaeyoung asks him, her voice barely audible.

"I'm… Whew. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah… I'm… I think I'm good," she replies, her body still shuddering with aftershocks.

"Fuck… That was good," her partner groans, his voice heavy.

"Do you… Want more?" she proposes as she tries to lift herself up the floor into a more comfortable position.

He crawls towards her, his seemingly tired body ready for yet another round.

"If that's what you want…"

The young lady is already feeling the effects of his relentless assault, her body trembling as she anticipates his cock pounding her once more with reckless abandon. But the pleasure of having her insides ravaged by his girthy shaft is too much for her, and she is helpless to resist his advances.

"Mmmh… Keep going," she urges him on, her voice shaky.

But as they ready themselves to have another go, the buzzer rings, indicating that time is up.

"Huh? Already?" the young man groans.

"Looks like we got carried away," she giggles, her breathing heavy.

"Yeah," he snarls. "I got so lost in all that."

"So… Who won?" she asks, her tone curious.

"Not sure," he shrugs. "You?"

She looks confused.

“Me? I don’t know.”

The screen then showed the result of this rather interesting game:

"RESULTS:

3-2 in favor of Chaeyoung!

CONGRATULATIONS! You succeeded in the challenge!"

"Oh wow," he smiles.

"Really? I did! Yay!" she cheers, clapping her hands in excitement.

"Yeah, you did. Good job, Chaeyoung," her partner congratulates her, clapping his hands as well.

"Thank you!" she replies as she gives him a hug, her face beaming with joy.

"You're a great partner," he praises her. "It was a lot of fun."

"Thank you again," she blushes. She then looks around her.

"So what now?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "No one told me what to do after the challenge."

The screen then shows a new message for the two of them:

"Congratulations on completing the challenge. The pair should then proceed to the final area after a signal in a few hours. In the meantime, you can do whatever you want together in this area. Have fun!"

"Huh. So we're gonna wait, then," Chaeyoung concludes, reading the message.

"Looks like it," he replies, shrugging.

"What are we supposed to do until then?"

"Who knows," he shrugs, then looks at her with a sly smile.

"We can… Start where we left off, you know?"

"Hmmm…" she smiles, her cheeks slightly turning pink. "We can do that."

"Fuck. Aren't you restless?"

Albeit struggling due to the intense fucking from earlier, Chaeyoung still chose to stand up on her feet, her legs wobbling. Luckily for her, he’s there to give assistance. She then gestures to her partner to stand up, to which he obliges. As soon as they've gathered their footing, she suddenly gives him a rather obvious gaze.

"M-maybe we can do something else first," she suggests, grinning mischievously.

"Uhh... What did you have in mind?" he asks, curious.

She then walks back towards the pool, gently tugging him along.

"I just want to swim around for a bit," she replies, smiling. "Do you mind joining me?"

"Sure," he replies, his eyes fixated on hers. "I suppose a little swim would be nice."

"Great." Chaeyoung beams with joy. 

"Let's go."

As the two dip their bodies into the pool, the camera follows them from above as they enjoy each other's company in the water. They swim around, playing and laughing together. They exchange more playful banters and even more sensual moments with one another. It is clear that the two of them have hit it off quite well, and the sexual tension between them continues to build. Even as the video fades to black, you know Chaeyoung and her partner are just getting started.

Two videos down, and many more to go. Reviewing videos for long periods is tiring, but not in this case. Instead of exhaustion, you are filled with renewed excitement and anticipation. With a quick check of the time, you realize that lunch break is coming up. But your stomach would have to wait.

You close the current window and open the next video file.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

As promised, this is the next chapter of my "Spotlighting" series. It wasn't easy to pick an idea that'll suit Chaeyoung. I originally wanted her to do an "indoor surfing" challenge. But I quickly realize that I'd rather want her to be rag dolled by her partner than by the waves. 😂 And as wimpy as this tall squirrel can be, I don't think she'd back down from a challenge, especially when there's something promising on the line. So I guess playing water polo suits her.

Now that I thought of it... It's find it interesting for the idols to have some sort of "competition" with their partners. It really makes for some really wild ideas where neither of them is backing out, even when doing the deed. 😏

Once again, thank you to the people that helped me make this fic readable. 🤣 @digipigichopshop and @dnd-writes... Thank you so much, you two. 🙇 Be sure to follow them if you haven't already. As well as @braaan for another great poster. You guys are the best. 👍

Again, thank you very much for reading! 🙇