#and that does NOT mean that she feels that way all the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pbaz7 · 16 hours ago

Text

ONE SHOT: EXIT 42 PART 2

paige x azzi

word count: 19k

a/n: i don't know why I wrote part one thinking my anons would let me get away with only writing one part. here's the heavily requested part two of the random au i came up with. i need a heavy dose of affirmation these days so i'd be extremely grateful if i could get some thoughts and a few live reacts on this one. i hope i didn't disappoint with part two 🫶🏼 feel free to let me know if there's typos!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For two months, Azzi and Paige made a rhythm out of distance.

Azzi texted more often than she ever had with anyone and found herself smiling at her phone more than she wanted to admit. She’d text little random things, updates about her day. Sometimes it was full paragraphs when she had a lot on her mind and she knew she didn’t have to pretend to be anything she wasn’t with Paige.

Paige usually took her time to reply because it took her more of a conscious effort to remember her phone existed. Initially Azzi flinched at the lull in responses, checking their message thread often like she was owed urgency. Eventually she started to connect the dots that would always respond.

Usually it was at the end of the day. She would make her appearance in the thread with a picture from her day. Once a dusky sky leaking a beautiful lavender behind a slatted fence, another time it was the horses under a large Texas ash tree while the dogs were asleep on their backs. She’d always respond with a string of her messages responding to everything Azzi sent before sending her own thoughts about the day.

"Mrs. Emory asked about you again today."

"I think Stew misses you. Keeps on running to the guest room.”

"Too hot to wear black out here today. Even my boots were sweating."

Each message made Azzi ache in a strange, shapeless way that longing for another person does.

Azzi likes that Paige never pries her for information. Even when Azzi’s messages showed signs of her lifestyle: the glam team tending to her when she sent a selfie, tired replies at odd hours. It was a quiet agreement they easily fell into; if Paige didn’t ask, Azzi didn’t have to lie or dodge.

They also had a few FaceTimes here and there. The calls were usually late with Paige already under her covers and the dogs laying close by on their dog beds. Every time they spoke her voice was always hoarse, like her long day hadn’t let go of her yet.

“Was just about to call it a night,” she’d say, but each time she followed up with a grin that showed she was waiting for Azzi to call.

Azzi was usually just getting home and as she threw her keys on the island she’d say, “Sure you were.”

Because they were both tired from their days the conversations were never too long and they always ended slower than they started. Paige had a way of making even a goodbye stretch with how calm she was.

“Alright then, goodnight sweetheart”, her finger nowhere near the end call button. Words like that always got to Azzi because Paige’s Southern cadence made everything sound like she was flirting. Azzi swears she tried not to read too far into it…Keywords tried because unfortunately for her most days she failed

Because sometimes Paige would say something simple like, “That color looks amazing on you,” without second guessing how it came off. Azzi lost count of the times she heard Paige say “Wish you could sit with me to watch this sunset,” and mean it so plainly it reminded Azzi of a white bare room that she could paint pastels into.

The only problem is Paige would toss in a “ma’am” just to tease her but on her end Azzi was left wondering how she meant it. She didn’t know if it was from Paige being raised by her grandmother or if there was something more threading through the seams.

However Paige felt, whether she felt anything for Azzi at all, no one could deny that there was something growing like kudzu between their words.

On a specific occasion during one of their later calls Paige was stuck between sleep and conciseness while Azzi was still fully dressed, streetlight’s eclipsing her living room in amber.

“I want to see you,” Azzi said, as she moved around her kitchen to go to the couch. “In person I mean.”

Paige blinked her eyes open slowly, voice honeyed from sleep. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded, pushing her knees up on the couch to get more comfortable. “You let me be a part of your world for a weekend. I feel like it might be time for you to come see mine.”

Paige grinned against her pillows, the apples of her cheeks getting a little rosie. “You plannin on getting me lost in a city?”

Azzi grinned. “You wouldn’t last five minutes without me, country girl.”

“Mmm,” Paige hummed, rolling onto her back. “Bet I’d last six.”

What surprised Azzi after that call was that Paige didn’t need much convincing. There was no hemming and hawing, just Paige mumbling, “lemme figure a few things out darlin” and a promise to have an update for her soon.

Over the next few days, Paige tied up her responsibilities to make sure everything was in place for the weekend. She called one of her good friends Ashlynn to stay at the house and tend to the animals, made sure she separated Mrs. Emory's meds after mowing the lawn, and fixed the Langston's broken water heater and got them groceries.

The last thing she did was swap her truck for her friend’s Ford F-150 Raptor. “So you don’t rattle the doors off your beauty on I-35,” Jeff teased as he tossed her the keys that morning.

…

By the time Paige rolled into Dallas, the sky was yawning pink behind her. The city bloomed alive in front of her. Instead of soft trees melting into the sky, buildings rose sharply against the horizon, their glass facades catching the last of the sunlight like magnifying glasses, casting heat in every angled direction. It was louder here. Not even in just volume, the energy felt more frenzied. Everything felt like it was buzzing. People moved impatiently, everyone caught up in their own stories.

Azzi's high rise apartment was taller than the rest of the buildings, planted right in the heart of the city where someone of her caliber belonged. Paige followed the instructions Azzi sent her that morning to get into the garage.

She circled around the maze until she got to the level that belonged to Azzi and pulled the Raptor right next to her pink coupe. The engine rumbled to a stop and Paige just sat there for a few moments to take a breather. One of her hands was still on the gear shift, while she rubbed the back of her neck with the other one. Eventually she let out a long breath and picked up her phone to call Azzi.

It rang once before she heard Azzi answer. “I’m in your garage, sweetheart.”

She could hear Azzi’s smile through the phone. “Stay there, I’m coming down.”

By the time Paige got out of the truck and got her duffle bag from the backseat elevator doors across the garage were sliding open.

When Azzi stepped out of the elevator the fluorescent lights in the ceiling caught the silver hoops in her ears and the waist chain peeking out from underneath her cropped hoodie. Her hair was pulled up, curls piled high with a few tendrils purposefully left out to frame her features. When she got close enough, Paige caught on to the smell of jasmine and vanilla radiating from her skin. Warm and sweet just like she remembered.

Paige was standing next to the truck, watching her with a softened look. Appreciative of her but never greedy, never ill-mannered. Azzi was doing her own version of the same thing. Her eyes drifted from the worn blue jeans, to the white t-shirt underneath the open blue flannel that brought out the color in her eyes even under the garage lights. A silver cross chain resting just above her collarbone.

Azzi’s lips parted in an unintentional smile before she spoke. “Hi.”

Paige’s grin mirrored hers as soon as she heard Azzi’s voice. “Hi, sweetheart.”

The words landed a little differently in person. Azzi felt them wrap around her chest like a honey dipper dunked deeply into a pit of honey, coming out golden. The warmth of it coated her ribs, drizzled down and settled somewhere behind her sternum. “I missed hearing that,” she said, a little bashfully.

Paige gave her another crooked grin, saying everything with her eyes. When Azzi reached for her bag, Paige tightened her hand around the leather, shaking her head no like Azzi should know better. Azzi sighed before they walked beside each other as they made their way to the private elevator.

The ride was quick and pretty quiet the entire time. Paige all of a sudden felt a little shy.

When the elevator doors opened into Azzi’s apartment Paige stepped out first.

Just off the initial view alone it was apparent how expansive the space was. The ceilings were high enough to have another floor and light wood stretched across the open floor plan, all bathed in natural light. Floor to ceiling windows wrapped around almost every wall, offering a full view of the Dallas skyline.

It felt like the complete opposite of the farmhouse. There were no creaky floors, or the sound of animals just outside the back door. The clutter was minimal and Azzi had an earth toned throw blanket over the couch. The house was completely modernized but there were small sprinkles of Azzi throughout that Paige wanted to help her expand on.

Paige set her bag down on a wooden bench near the elevator, sliding her boots off as her eyes moved around the space.

Azzi watched her take it in. Observing her reaction to the quiet luxury of the place, but the more she watched the more indifferent Paige seemed which made her heart swell a little before she decided to just outwardly ask. “You good?”

Paige nodded once, slowly. “Yup,” she said. “Just…big.”

Azzi laughed. “It’s not that big.”

Paige glanced at her before her eyes drifted toward the windows again. “Darlin, I can see the clouds through your windows.”

Before Azzi could tease her about it, a voice called her name. “Azzi.”

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted, completely forgetting people were still there. “Oh right,” she mumbled under her breath, then cleared her throat and walked toward the kitchen, grabbing Paige’s attention to tell her to follow.

They walked in to see two people standing near the oversized kitchen island. Katie, Azzi’s mother,and Azzi’s manager, were mid conversation, when they walked in but stopped when they saw Paige walking in with Azzi.

“This is my mom,” Azzi said, one hand brushing Paige’s lower back as she stepped forward to introduce them.

Katie offered Paige her hand, making sure to give her a kind smile as she did. Paige shook Katie’s hand, her own natural grin sliding into place. “It’s really nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Katie tilted her head, already charmed into giving her a genuine smile. “Oh, you don’t have to call me that. Katie’s just fine.”

Paige’s grin widened. “If I did that ma’am, my grandmother would haunt my dreams,” she said, letting out a short laugh.

That made both Fudd women laugh. Katie’s a little fuller, while Azzi’s was softer but a little more affected.

“And this is my manager, Skye,” Azzi added, glancing over at the young woman beside her mother, who had been watching Paige and Azzi both with interest.

Paige turned and extended her hand again. “Nice to meet you, as well,” she said, just as respectfully.

Skye shook her hand with a slight smile in Azzi’s direction. “You’ve got manners, I’ll give you that.”

Paige tipped her chin in modest agreement and a silent thank you.

Katie looked between Azzi and Paige as she threw her hair into a ponytail. “So Azzi told me about the little car situation,” she said, laughing a little. “That she ended up staying on your farm for a few days?”

Paige nodded. Her posture was much more relaxed than everyone else, like she was still standing on open land instead of expensive wooden floors. “Yes ma’am that’s right,” she said, glancing toward Azzi. “Had to make sure she didn’t try to ride the tractor out of there,” she added charmingly.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but Paige kept going. “She was a natural on a horse, though.”

Katie raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. “Is that so?”

Azzi shrugged, pretending not to smile. “I held on and didn’t fall. That counts for something.”

“She did a lot more than that. Everything counts for a lot when it comes to ridin Rosie,” Paige said, the natural flirtatious drawl she has with Azzi forming on the edges of her words.

Skye noticed something more than just Paige complimenting horseback riding and looked at Azzi with one of her eyebrows raised.

Azzi ignored it.

Behind them, Paige had drifted toward the windows, soaking in the view in front of her.

Katie and Skye started gathering their things, sensing that Azzi most likely wanted to be alone.

“Alright,” Katie said, scrolling through her calendar app. “Your car service for the morning will be downstairs by four thirty, glam’s at five. It’ll be the same team as always.”

Azzi nodded, listening but watching Paige lean her forehead closer to the window to see the lines of traffic two dozen floors below.

Skye added, “I’ll meet you at the Dallas News studio to record the GMA segment and then we may or may not have to stop by the arena for—”

Azzi cut in smoothly, “Actually, can you just text me everything?”

Skye blinked in slight shock, caught mid sentence. “Uh yeah, sure of course.”

Katie, who was a little oblivious, kept going. “Just make sure you stretch tonight honey. You’re not gonna want to be stiff tomorrow morning after all the drills you—”

Azzi’s voice cut in again casually. “I know mom, I got it.” Azzi looked toward Paige and she was still seemingly entertained by the windows, not caring about the conversation going on behind her. Azzi silently thanked the universe that Paige wasn’t nosey.

“Ok we’ll get out of your hair. Call if you need anything,” Katie said.

Azzi nodded, leaning down to give her mom a hug. Katie kissed her cheek, then turned to Paige. “It was really nice meeting you, Paige.”

Paige turned around, the city still glittering behind her. “Pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”

Katie gave her a warm smile before stepping toward the elevator with Skye. When the two of them left it left the apartment quieter and the energy a little lighter.

“You want something to drink?”

Paige wandered back toward the island. “Some cold water would be amazing.”

Azzi pulled a glass from the cabinet and walked to the refrigerator to fill it with cold water. Her back was to Paige but her awareness was trained entirely on her presence. The air felt different with Paige in her space.

When she turned around and held the glass out, Paige took it saying, “Thank you,” their fingers brushing in the exchange.

Azzi watched as Paige brought the glass to her lips, tilted her head back slightly, throat bobbing as she drank. Her lashes fluttered before they settled and when she lowered the glass her eyes flicked toward Azzi.

“You alright?” Paige asked when she noticed Azzi looking.

Azzi blinked, realizing she’d been caught staring and all of a sudden she felt more like a schoolgirl with a crush than the 24 year old millionaire she was. “Yeah,” she said, trying to shake off the giddy feeling, adding a joke to mask the truth, “you just drink water a little dramatically, didn’t realize that was a thing.”

Paige grinned. “Is that so?”

Azzi shrugged as she moved to one of the seats at the island, adding some space to calm her chest but not too much. Her smile stayed put even as she looked down at the smooth marble countertop. “Apparently so.”

The space got quiet again, but it wasn’t empty. Their energy, whatever it was, hung between them. Azzi’s apartment, typically completely spacious and serene, suddenly felt smaller, cozier.

Paige watched Azzi in a way that made the younger girl more aware of herself. Her hands, her breathing, the way her foot tapped against the footrest of the stool. After a few seconds, Paige noticed her fidgeting a little so she asked, “Am I making you uncomfortable, sweetheart?”

Azzi’s eyes flew up. “No,” she said, maybe too quickly. Then she calmed her voice. “No, not at all.”

Paige continued to study her, patience in her eyes. “What is it then?”

Azzi rested her chin on the palm of her hand, fingers curled under her jaw. “You just have a…presence.”

Paige nodded.

Azzi’s gaze dropped, then moved back up. She looked a little embarrassed, like even trying to explain was making her feel more than she wanted to. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything on the farm felt natural. Like I knew how to just be around you there. Now you’re here, in my space, and it’s different because I’m different here. It’s not bad just—” she let out a long breath. “I don’t fully remember how we moved around each other but I want to. I’ve been excited about this. I just guess I’m a little in my head.”

Paige’s eyes softened at her in a way that made Azzi’s chest ache again. “There’s no right or wrong way to act around me, sweetheart,” she said. “You don’t gotta perform or be anything you don’t wanna be. Just tell me what you need.”

“I kinda wanted a hug when you got here.”

Paige set her glass down on the counter before walking around the island. Azzi stood up when she got close, like her body had been waiting for an excuse to move toward Paige.

She relaxed into Paige arms like warm tea meeting the base of a hoarse sore throat. Soothing in a way that felt necessary for her survival. The cool air conditioning whispering through the apartment highlighted just how warm Paige’s body was against hers. Azzi closed her eyes and let her head rest on Paige’s shoulder.

Paige kept her hands in the middle of Azzi’s back, rubbing her thumb between her shoulder blades. “We gotta get you to slow down in the city too, darlin’,” she whispered, her voice close enough to Azzi’s ear to vibrate through her chest.

Azzi smiled into the hug. “Think I might need you to teach me how.”

Paige chuckled under her breath. “First step’s already done.”

Azzi gave Paige a quick squeeze before pulling back, her hands trailing down Paige’s arms before falling to her own sides. She took a step back, eyes skimming over Paige again with a small grin. “So this is your version of dressing up, hm?” she teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything besides a white tee or a tank top. The flannel’s definitely a nice surprise.”

“That’s ‘cause 85% of my closet is plain tees. The other 15% is…flannels and other shirts I wear when someone fancy invites me to the city.”

Azzi laughed at the concept of being fancy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Still charming,” Paige said, with a grin.

Azzi didn’t bother denying it as she moved back to her seat at the island, gesturing for Paige to do the same. “Unfortunately we picked a weekend that’s a little packed for me tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I heard. Seems you’re a busy woman darlin’.”

Azzi laughed, the sound angelic to Paige’s ears. “If it’s okay with you, I want you to come with me tomorrow. See what my day to day looks like.”

There was a very brief Paise before Paige asked, “Is that something you’d want?”

Azzi looked at her understanding the question wasn’t as surface level as it seemed. Paige didn’t care for the logistics of the whole thing. She wanted to know if Azzi was ready to open her up to that part of her life.

Azzi’s tone was more curious than accusatory when she asked, “Why haven’t you ever asked me what I do? Or looked into it for that matter.”

“Because if it was somethin you wanted to dictate how we interacted you’d tell me on your own accord.”

“I play basketball,” Azzi said plainly. “Professionally I mean.”

Paige nodded, storing that fact about Azzi with the rest of them. Azzi kept going. “I’m in the WNBA, which I’m sure you probably don’t care about but my first season ended not too long ago. Right before I ended up on the farm actually.”

Paige grinned at Azzi’s small ramble before offering a simple, “That’s amazing Azzi.”

Azzi nodded once, but her smile didn’t come and she kept rambling a little. “It is and it isn’t. It’s been my dream my entire life. But it’s also been a little exhausting. Like, for the past year every part of me has been stretched thin. My body, mind, everything.”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose with two fingers to calm herself down. “The travel, the overnight change in the life and people I’ve known since I was 18, the spotlight, expecting to save a franchise overnight…all of it just moves so fast. Sometimes it feels like I don’t even get to just be in the life I worked so hard for. I’m just constantly managing it. Trying to stay afloat so my name isn’t in headlines for not living up to expectations.”

Paige leaned back in the chair to keep her posture open. “Is that why you’ve been avoidin it with me?”

Azzi nodded. “Part of it is just—” She paused, trying to figure out what she wanted to say fully. “I wanted to experience being with someone who didn’t know anything about that version of me. I just wanted to be Azzi with you. Doing that has given me some of the best days I’ve had in a really long time.”

Paige smiled at her, wanting to reach out to touch her but deciding to keep her hands to herself. “Then you’ll always just be Azzi with me, yeah?”

Azzi’s smile came slowly when she heard Paige say that, like it had to let the seed be planted and bloom through her chest before she fully processed it.

“You successfully ridin Rosie is probably more impressive than anything else in my book anyway,” Paige added to lighten Azzi’s eyes.

That made Azzi snort which caused a loud laugh to burst from her chest as she exhaled the tension she was holding in her shoulders.

Azzi leaned back against her chair, warmth pooling in her brown eyes. “Are you hungry? I can cook for you.”

Paige smiled at the offer. “How about you go get a little comfortable first?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, pushing herself upright as her hoops shimmered under the kitchen lights. “What, you don’t like me in this?”

Paige caught the bait easily, but she didn’t play into it the way she knew Azzi. Instead, she softened her voice, intending to make her words sound as genuine as possible as she looked at Azzi. “You’d look lovely in anything, beautiful. I just want you to be comfortable in your own home before you start tendin’ to me is all.”

The words made Azzi go still for a second. Before her fingers started playing with the strings of the cropped hoodie a little nervously her smile bashful now that Paige moved past every version of flirting she knew hot to deflect. She bit her bottom lip before whispering, “I’ll be right back.”

When Azzi came back to the kitchen her curls were looser and her skin was bare skin bare. She had on a slightly oversized t-shirt and short cotton shorts. Her face showed her youth without the makeup.

Paige was sitting on the couch, her body angled toward the melting skyline. The city shimmered through the windows, soft purples and deepening blue streaked with gold as the sun dipped lower behind the other buildings.

Azzi’s voice traveled from behind her. “You like the view?”

Paige smiled at the glass before she turned her head. “I do now.”

Azzi flushed just enough to notice it, brushing past it huffing as she walked into the kitchen. She washed her hands under the faucet, drying them before opening the fridge and scanning the shelves.

By the time she stood back up with a few ingredients in her hand, Paige had moved from the couch to the kitchen, rolling her sleeves up.

“What are you doing?”

Paige was at the sink washing her hands. “I’m helpin’ you cook.”

Azzi was already shaking her head no. “You don’t need to do that.”

“You wanna cook alone while I just sit around in your apartment, sweetheart?” Paige said. Her voice had that familiar southern twang that made Azzi feel like she was standing in a field somewhere rather than in the middle of a luxury high rise. Paige dried her hands casually, keeping her eyes on Azzi. “Doesn’t feel right to me.”

Azzi crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “If I remember that’s exactly what you made me do at the farm.”

Paige tilted her head, grinning. “That was different.”

“Was it?”

“Yes ma’am I was lettin’ you show off those fine manners of yours sitting at my table.”

Azzi squinted her eyes, giving Paige a skeptical look before she handed her a cutting board. “Mmm I see. Well we’re making tomato sauce, so…” She gestured vaguely toward Paige’s chest. “You might wanna lose the shirt.”

Both of Paige’s eyebrows lifted in shock. But she was always one to follow directions so she stepped toward the island and turned away, tugging the flannel off first, before she pulled the white tee over her head. That left her in a black sports bra, and her jeans that were low enough to show the band of her Calvin’s at her waist.

Azzi looked away immediately, staring a little too hard at the tomatoes on the counter. Suddenly peeling garlic was the most important thing in the world.

“You alright over there?”

Azzi nodded, still not looking up. “Yeah, fine. Just don’t blame me if you get splashed in the stomach.”

Paige laughed, stepping next to her and picking up the knife. “Yes ma’am.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, “Stop calling me that.”

Paige chuckled.

As they cooked they fell into an easy flow without needing to speak too much. Azzi handed Paige things she needed chopped and Paige picked up on Azzi’s movements and what she needed like she’d watch her move around a kitchen in a thousand lifetimes.

There was fresh pasta dough resting under a cloth and when it was ready Azzi rolled it out on the floured counter while Paige shaped the turkey meatballs. Early on Azzi realized she needed to be slick when it came to handing Paige the vegetables after sliding her zucchini and putting spinach in the pot.

Paige had suspiciously eyed the growing pile of greens. “How many vegetables you plan on sliding to me?”

Azzi smirked, not looking up. “You’re not getting out of it so just go ahead and cut them.”

Paige grinned. “You gonna tell me you’re putting kale in there too?”

Azzi didn’t answer, just added another handful of spinach into the sauce with a smile on her face.

While the meatballs were browning in the pan, Azzi reached for her phone to put on some music, soft R&B floating through her built-in speakers throughout the apartment.

Azzi started to hum under her breath while Paige wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the counter to watch Azzi slot the pasta through the machine.

When Azzi turned around to stir the sauce she took note of Paige looking at her. “You’ve done this before,” Azzi said, glancing at the uniform shape of the meatballs sizzling in a pan.

Paige shrugged modestly. “Used to help my grandma make fresh pasta every few Sundays. We didn’t do turkey though, that’s all you.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes softening as she glanced over at Paige. “Did she teach you everything?”

“Yeah mostly,” Paige said quietly. “Taught me a lot of what I know. Being kind, respectful, takin’ care of folks who need takin’ care of.”

Azzi nodded, making sure she kept her eyes on Paige to let her know she was listening. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Paige’s smile was faint. “I’m sure she would’ve loved you. Tell you all about how amazing you are every chance she’d get.”

After Paige said that a moment lingered between them. It was a little more taut than usual and neither one of them wanted to be the one to break it. There was something comforting about the moment, in the way both of them just wanted to exist in it.

But then a bit of sauce splattered up from the pot and landed on Paige’s stomach making her flinch at the stinging sensation.

Azzi laughed as she pointed at Paige. “See?! Your shirt would’ve been ruined.”

Paige chuckled, wiping the spot with a napkin “Might’ve been worth it over getting popped.”

Azzi grabbed the bundle of pasta and dropped it into the pot of boiling water, the steam rising and curling around her jawline. “Fresh pasta only takes a few minutes,” she said to Paige. “So it should be done soon.”

Paige reached into a cabinet and pulled out two plates. “These okay?”

“Perfect.”

Azzi turned off the heat and wiped her hands on a towel. “Go sit,” she said, nodding toward the general direction of her table.

Paige nodded before going to discover the dining area.

When she found it the table was the perfect size for maybe six people and she could tell it was made of rich dark wood. There was a muted olive runner that went across the middle and overhead there was a glass chandelier that spilled down from the ceiling.

The artwork on the walls was a mix of aesthetic memories. There were a few framed black and white pictures of what looked like memories. Azzi with friends, family, teammates. The apartment’s wide windows allowed for light to stretch into this portion of the house, letting in the last of the sky's watercolor hues.

Paige was still taking everything in when Azzi walked over holding two plates and a bottle. Azzi put the plate in front of Paige first, then set down a cold Lone Star next to it.

Paige’s eyes flicked to the bottle, then up to Azzi’s face. “You got beer for me?”

Azzi shrugged, trying not to put too much attention on the fact. “Figured I should have something for you to drink besides water.”

Paige leaned back in her chair to stretch her arms above her head, unable to hide her smile. “That’s real thoughtful of you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Azzi sat down across from her, reaching for her fork. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t tasted the food yet.”

Paige kept her eyes on Azzi as she picked up her fork. “I got the strange feelin’ that I’m gonna like everything you feed me.”

Azzi’s cheeks warmed at where her brain went before she took her first bite to distract herself, letting the silence settle between them.

For the most part dinner wasn’t too eventful. They talked about Azzi’s day before Paige got there and Paige’s drive to the city. When that was done they talked about whatever came to mind, just basking in the presence of one another again. When they were eating Azzi stood up first and grabbed their plates.

“Let me take that,” Paige offered.

Azzi shook her head no.

“You sure?”

Azzi smiled. “Yes I’m sure. Go take a shower and wind down. I put towels in the guest room for you.”

Paige squinted at her, about to say something but Azzi spoke before she could. “Don’t be hard headed.”

Paige grinned, deciding not to fight Azzi on it anymore as she pushed her chair back. “Alright then, yes ma’am.” Azzi threw a napkin at her back as she walked away, making Paige laugh.

Azzi walked toward the kitchen to start cleaning up. She rinsed everything in the sink before sliding them into the dishwasher. When she turned around to wipe off the counters, she saw Paige’s shoes by the elevator and her shirts draped over one of the island chairs. The simpleness of it all made her smile. The small evidence that Paige was here in her space.

The dishwasher hummed lowly, the only rhythm inside the quiet home. Most of the lights were off, except for the lamp next to the couch that gave the living room a soft pool of light. Azzi was curled into the corner of the large sectional as she read. It was a book she’d read before but she kept returning to it, finding something new to love about it each time.

The city outside the windows was quieter now, distant headlights flickering like fireflies instead of angry wasps in traffic.

She heard the door to the guest room open before Paige made her way toward the living room. Azzi glanced up from the book when Paige came into view towel drying her hair the smell of eucalyptus drifting behind her.

“Hey,” Paige said quietly, coming around the couch.

Azzi dog eared her page. “Hey.”

“Just comin to say goodnight.” Paige hovered for a second before sitting on the couch next to Azzi, leaving a respectful amount of space between them.

Azzi smiled gently. “The shower was alright?”

“Fresh as I’ll ever be.” Paige nodded toward the book in her lap. “What’re you readin’?”

Azzi held it up for her to see.

Paige squinted at the cover before grinning. “Is that the one you said makes you cry every time you read it?”

Azzi laughed through her nose. “Maybe.”

Paige hummed and leaned back, looking toward the windows.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Azzi said, almost out of nowhere.

Paige looked at her, memorizing the way she looked under the warm glow of the lamp. Then she smiled. “I am too.” She stood up after that, stretching her arms back again. “I’ll get outta your way. Long day tomorrow, right?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“You too, Paige.”

Azzi watched until Paige disappeared down the hall, the sound of the door closing behind her. She sat there for a few more minutes, letting her heart move slow without any interruptions. Eventually, she turned off the lamp and walked toward her room, ready to call it a night.

…

It was around 11:30PM, but Paige still couldn’t fall asleep.

She was laying on her back in the guest room, eyes tracing the lights that bled through the windows. The blinds were drawn, but they weren’t blackout so the slats could only do so much to dim the city lights. A car horn blared in the distance, and Paige’s eyebrows furrowed. She rolled onto her side and pulled the covers tighter around herself. Then she rolled onto her back again. Then her other side.

Paige was used to complete darkness and silence so full if you listened close enough you could hear the insects breathing. Even the air was different in the city; a lot less still, wired by electricity.

She let out a long exhale and stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes. Eventually, the restlessness won and she slipped out of bed. Her bare feet padded across the cool floors as she walked to the kitchen for some water, hoping to find peace in another area of the apartment.

Paige was surprised when she saw that Azzi was still awake. The living room light was off, but the glow from the kitchen under cabinet lights spilled out to outline her silhouette. Azzi was curled into the same corner of the couch with a cup cradled in her hands. Her gaze was distant until she noticed Paige step into view.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Paige offered her a sheepish grin. “Didn’t realize how loud the world can be when you’re used to only hearin’ crickets.”

Azzi nodded. “I get that.”

Paige’s eyes moved over Azzi slowly before glancing down at herself in just a sports bra and boxers. “I’m sorry. If I knew you were still up, I would’ve put more on,” she said, brushing a hand across her arm, suddenly aware of how bare she was.

Azzi waved her off. “You’re fine. It’s your house too this weekend.”

Paige smiled at that and sat down, keeping a few inches of cushion between them. “What’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?”

Azzi hesitated before offering a shrug. “Just cold by myself in my room. Trying to warm up.”

The answer felt simple but the way Azzi said it hinted at a different meaning so Paige didn’t push. She just nodded, letting the silence hold what didn’t need to be said out loud.

She tilted her chin toward the mug in Azzi’s hands. “That’s the yerbamante you always drinking?” Her accent curled around the words making Azzi laugh and lean her head back against the couch.

“Yerba Mate,” Azzi corrected. “And no, it’s not, thank you very much. This is just chamomile.”

Paige grinned at her, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip.

Azzi turned to look at her as she sipped from her cup. “You want me to make you some? It’ll help you sleep.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Paige said, her tone reflecting her gratitude.

Azzi gave her a soft smile and pushed herself up from the couch. She moved through the kitchen to pull down a second mug before pouring warm water into it from the kettle. She glanced over her shoulder. “You want anything in it? Honey, lemon, agave?”

Paige looked at her from the couch. “No need for all that extra stuff ’M sure the way you made it is perfect.”

Azzi finished steeping the tea with a smile on her face that she failed to hide. Once she was done she brought the second mug over, handing it to Paige with both hands.

“Thank you darlin,” Paige whispered.

Azzi sat down a little closer this time making their knees bump a little when she got comfortable.

Paige lifted the mug to take a sip and Azzi’s eyes lingered on her, catching something beneath the hem of her sports bra right near her ribs. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Azzi said.

Paige looked down, usually forgetting it was there. “Matthew 25:35–40,” she answered, putting her mug down for a second on the table. She lifted the band of her sports bra for Azzi to see the delicate cursive along her skin.

Azzi’s eyes traced the verse. “What does it mean?”

“ ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you invited me in. Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

Azzi looked at her for a while like something clicked into place for her at that moment. Instead of voicing her own thoughts she said, “I’ve noticed religion’s important to you.”

“It’s helped me with a lot,” Paige said. “Part of how I was raised with my grandmother. I feel like a lot of religion is just helpin’ people, being honest and livin with the right intentions. I live by those things more than anything. Try to, anyway I mean.”

Azzi’s eyes didn’t leave her. “I can tell,” she said softly.

Paige grinned while a faint blush rose up her neck. “You’re flatterin’ me.”

“I’m not.”

Paige noticed their lingering gazes becoming more common but she held it before she looked away, just from needing a second to breathe. They both sipped their tea, not bothered by the silence as they looked out the window.

After about five minutes or so Azzi spoke first. “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”

Paige shifted to get more comfortable causing them to get a little closer as she subtly leaned toward Azzi.

“I fell for the whole high school sweetheart thing,” Paige said, laughing a little. “Y’know the way everybody likes to do in the South. We were friends first, grew up together. I asked her to homecomin my sophomore year.”

Azzi sipped her tea as she listened.

“Stayed together all through high school and most of my first year of college. At that point we were together for the comfort of knowin somebody and we both realized it. Ended things before it could get messy.”

Paige reached for her mug again, taking a sip before she kept going. “Never really met anyone after that cause of the whole college scene.”

“Too many keg stands?” Azzi asked, leaning her head back on the back of the couch but turning to look at Paige.

Paige grinned at her. “Something like that. I just respected women too much to pretend I didn’t care about ‘em for a night. That whole scene never sat right with me.”

Azzi let out a quiet snort. “You’re a rare one.”

Paige shrugged like she didn’t think it was much. “Once I got settled on the farm, all the elders made it their personal goal to marry me off. Mrs. Emory swore up and down she had the perfect girl for me.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What happened with that one?”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Never got around to meetin’ her.” Paige leaned back against the couch and turned her head sideways at Azzi. Their positions mirrored each other before she kept going. “Then this brown eyed girl from Dallas got stuck in the country and changed her mind.”

Azzi blinked, a smile pulling at her muscles before Paige finished the sentence.

“Said I should focus on gettin’ to know her instead.”

Azzi’s smile came slowly. Something flickering in her eyes as Paige’s words took shape behind them. “And what do you think about that?”

Paige didn’t rush to answer. Opting to look at Azzi from this new angle instead. The curve of her cheekbone in the low lighting, the faint crease between her eyebrows that always showed when she was trying to hold herself still. Paige gave her a small smile when she was done, meeting her gaze. “I think I’m way outta my league but everything I’ve gotten to know about her so far has shown me how incredible she is.”

“I don’t think anybody could be out of your league,” Azzi said, eyes locked on Paige like she couldn’t look away if she wanted to.

They sat in that mirrored position for a while just watching one another, a silent conversation passing between them. Azzi’s eyes dipped to Paige’s lips before immediately coming back up, just in time to catch the way Paige’s gaze softened.

Their bodies leaned in by muscle memory alone before Paige paused. She whispered considering how close Azzi’s face was to hers. “I can’t kiss you, darlin’.”

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted, her tone matching the furrow between them. “Why not?”

Paige took in a slow breath. “’Cause I was raised with manners and because I respect you.”

Azzi tilted her head closer, grinning as she whispered, “I think kissing me is probably the most respectful thing you could do right now.”

That pulled a laugh from the back of Paige’s throat. She reached out, brushing her fingers against Azzi’s temple to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

Azzi closed her eyes for just a second, leaning into the touch without thinking. That small motion made Paige’s fingers linger longer than she needed to. The softness of Azzi’s skin, the warmth now radiating off of her grounded Paige, held her there for a few extra heartbeats. “You should get some rest,” she murmured, almost like she didn’t fully want to say it. “Long day tomorrow, right?”

Azzi opened her eyes and gave the smallest nod, keeping her gaze on Paige as she pulled her hand away.

Paige gave her a gentle smile before she got up from the couch. She leaned down to press a tender kiss to the area right where Azzi’s hairline met her forehead. When Paige straightened her posture she picked up both of their mugs with one hand and carried them to the kitchen.

When she got back she paused at the edge of the couch. “Good night.”

Azzi’s voice met hers like a whisper on a still lake. “Good night, Paige.”

…

A few hours later, the world was cloaked in early morning fog when Paige stepped out of the guest room. She had on washed Abercrombie & Fitch camo pants and of course a plain white tee shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a low, messy bun and she’d thrown a trucker hat over it. Her glasses in place instead of her usual contacts with how early it was.

Azzi was barefoot in the kitchen with sweatpants and a cropped shirt on. Her face bare and somehow more beautiful in the early morning.

They met each other’s eyes across the open space, both of them wearing a sleepy smile, reserved for people who felt good in each other’s presence before words left their mouths.

Paige’s voice was a little horse still when she said, “Good mornin’ sweetheart.”

Azzi handed her a tall glass as soon as she was close enough. “Morning.”

Paige took the green smoothie, holding it at eye level as she inspected it.

Azzi laughed when she saw what Paige was doing. “Don’t start,” she warned. “Just drink it.”

Paige side eyed her a little, but the corners of her mouth twitched as she brought the glass to her lips taking a cautious sip of the smoothie. When it landed on her tongue she pulled the glass away squinting at it again. “You put kale in this?”

“I did.”

Paige sighed dramatically, sitting down at one of the island stools. “Figures.”

Azzi leaned back against the counter, watching Paige take another sip despite herself.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Paige asked.

“I have a small recorded segment for GMA at the Dallas News Studio” she said, ticking it off on her fingers. “Might have to do a shoot for next season’s jerseys but that’s still up in the air. Then just a few quick endorsement videos for a skincare brand, and I think that’s it. Unless Skye decides to slide something else on my calendar last minute like she loves to do.”

“You said ‘I think that’s it’ like that’s not already a full day.”

Azzi shrugged, picking up her own smoothie to finish it. “I’m used to it.”

When she was done she placed the glass in the sink. “By the way, they had to schedule a car to pick us up. I still haven’t gotten the oil changed on mine.”

Paige raised her eyebrow. “The oil I told you to change two weeks ago?”

“I’m just a girl,” Azzi said, smiling to flash her dimples.

Paige hummed. “You are. But we can just take the truck.”

Azzi opened her mouth to object, but Paige kept going. “If we’ve got time later, I’ll change your oil for you and rotate your tires.”

“You don’t have to do all that. I can just hire someone like I was supposed to.”

“I know you can,” Paige said, standing up to rinse her glass. “But I’m here so I can do it.”

It was too early for Azzi to argue so she just agreed for the sake of seeing Paige fixing her car again. Azzi canceled the chauffeur for the morning and they stepped into the elevator. Azzi leaned against the wall, scrolling on her phone while Paige stood next to her with her hands in her pockets.

When they got off Paige walked ahead of Azzi slightly, unlocking the truck as she walked toward the passenger side. She pulled the door open and offered Azzi her hand. Azzi smiled at the gesture, slipping her hand into Paige’s, letting her help her step up into the truck. Once Azzi was settled, Paige shut the door and walked toward the driver's side.

…

After about 20 minutes of driving Paige eased the truck to a stop in front of the valet stand. Before the attendant could come out of the building, she was getting out and walking around to open the door for Azzi again.

Azzi looked down at her with a smile when she saw Paige offer her hand again. “You know I can get out of a truck by myself, right?”

Paige grinned at her. “I’m sure you can but that’s not the point.”

Azzi just slipped her hand into Paige’s and let her help her down.

Inside the building, Skye was waiting near the elevator, scrolling through something on her phone with her planner tucked under one arm. She looked up when she heard Azzi walk in.

“You’re late,” she said in a tone that was more of a reflex than real annoyance. “Morning.”

Azzi was used to her friend's rigidness when it came to scheduling. “Good morning.”

Paige slowed down to greet her properly, her manners showing despite everyone else being in a bit of a frenzy. “Good mornin.’ How are you?”

Skye glanced back, momentarily surprised by the courtesy. “I’m good, thanks. Hope y’all got some sleep.”

All three of them stepped into the elevator. Paige stood near the back with her hands in her pockets watching the floor numbers tick up. Azzi was standing right in front of her toward the side a little bit as her fingers flew across her phone screen as she responded to texts. It wasn’t intentional, but the space between her and Paige was pretty narrow and Azzi barely noticed how every time she sent a message her arm brushed against Paige’s chest.

Azzi glanced up from her phone to see Skye shooting her a subtle look. She had one eyebrow raised and her eyes flicked from Paige to Azzi for emphasis. Azzi blinked at her waiting for her to say something, but she never said anything, just went back to her own phone.

The elevator opened and as soon the three of them walked to Azzi’s glam room it was filled with energy. Hair and makeup were already there with their carts turning on vanity lights. Her stylist was unzipping garment bags and putting pieces on racks and there were a couple of BTS cameras already stationed throughout the room.

Azzi stepped in first, offering a few good mornings to all the familiar faces. She made her way to the chair centered in front of the vanity and set her bag down on the table.

Behind her Paige moved a lot slower as her eyes scanned the room as she tried to make sense of a world that moved a few clicks faster than what she was used to. She didn’t seem in the midst of it all but anyone looking from the outside could see the contrast in her calm presence versus the fury of the room around her.

Azzi turned around and saw Paige looking around. She smiled at her before calling her name to get her attention. “You can sit here,” she said, gesturing to the seat next to hers.

Before Azzi could say more, Skye walked up to her, tilting her head to a quieter part of the room. “Let me talk to you real quick.” Azzi looked confused but followed her anyway.

Skye lowered her voice to keep what she needed to say between them. “What’s going on there?�� she asked, referring to Paige, who had just picked up a newspaper that was sitting on the table.

Azzi kept her expression neutral for once. “Nothing.”

“Uh huh. Do we need an NDA?”

“No.”

Skye looked slightly unconvinced. “Are you sure? We’re going to be doing a lot that’s not necessarily public today. You trust the extra eyes one hundred percent?”

Azzi turned her head and couldn’t help the big grin that pulled at her face when she saw Paige reading the comic section of the paper. “Paige?”

Paige perked up when she heard Azzi call her name. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your phone?”

Paige patted her pockets with both hands, narrowing her eyes when she didn’t feel it. She looked back at Azzi with a sheepish grin. “I might’ve left it at your place. Too busy drinkin that kale.”

Azzi laughed telling her it was fine before she turned back toward Skye. “See? No NDA necessary. In case you can’t tell she’s more of the off the grid type.”

After Skye was satisfied Azzi went back to sit in her chair as the glam team got to work. One of them started sectioning off her curls while the makeup artist patted moisturizer into her skin. A mellow playlist was playing from someone’s speaker to fill the space.

For the first thirty minutes or so no one really spoke considering how early it was. Azzi scrolled through her phone absently while Paige read through each section of the newspaper. She was such a stark contrast to everything around them that Azzi had to sneak a picture. When she was done she put her phone on her lap before getting Paige’s attention. “You’re such an old man.”

Paige looked up from the paper smiling at Azzi. “How else am I supposed to keep up with what’s goin’ on in the world?”

“I don’t know, maybe joining the 21st century like everybody else?”

Paige leaned back in the chair, shaking her head. “Old fashioned way’s always better. Doesn’t have a phone yellin’ in my pocket every five minutes.”

Azzi was about to tell Paige about DND when her stylist came over holding a binder full of wardrobe options. “Pick a few of your favorites for today.”

Azzi took it and flipped through it slowly. She looked at a couple of the options closer than others before she turned the binder toward Skye. “What’s your favorite?”

Skye didn’t even need to look up from her phone, already knowing the options. “The fitted cream jacket, page nine.”

Azzi flipped to it and nodded. Then she turned toward Paige and swiveled the binder in her direction. “Alright, your turn. Which one do you like?”

Paige gave her a charming smile. “I like whichever one you like.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what I asked you.”

Paige shrugged, folding the newspaper in half and putting it on her lap. “Which one do you like?”

Azzi flipped through a few pages before she landed on the one that caught her attention. “This one. The pastel blue vest is nice.”

Paige leaned forward, taking another look. “Alright let me see it again.”

Azzi turned the binder back toward her and Paige pointed at the same light blue vest she had chosen two seconds ago. “I love this one,” she said grinning.

“You’re just picking that one because I did.”

Paige didn’t have any reason to deny it as she nodded. “You’re the one wearin’ it. If you like it I love it and that’s what you should put on.”

Azzi bit her bottom lip hard, fighting off the smile that tried to bloom. Her brown eyes stayed on Paige until her head was turned by her hairstylist.

“I want the cream pants and the light blue tweed vest,” she called out to her stylist.

Even though Azzi couldn’t see the stylist nod she was already pulling the pieces off the rack. Once she saw how the two pieces complemented one another she started laying out jewelry to add to the look.

Azzi snuck a quick glance to Paige as she went back to the paper in her lap.

Once Azzi’s glam was fully done a production assistant approached her with a black mic pack that they clipped to the back of her pants.

“Are you nervous?” Paige asked from behind Azzi’s chair, sipping on a bottle of water.

Azzi glanced at her through the mirror. “For what?”

Paige shrugged. “I don’t know sweetheart. All the cameras, random questions, all these people buzzin’ around you like bees in a jar.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, eyes softening a little at Paige’s innocence about it all. “I’m used to it at this point. But I don’t hate having you here to calm my nerves.”

That made Paige smile like a kid on Christmas morning.

In the middle of the conversation a stylist approached with some heels in her hand ready to bend down to put them on for Azzi. “You want me to—”

“I can do it,” Paige interrupted politely, already moving in front of Azzi who had stood up to put them on herself. Azzi closed her eyes to stop her reeling brain when she saw Paige kneel in front of her, pulling the stuffing paper out of the heels. Azzi opened her mouth to say something but her voice had gone quiet so she just closed it.

Paige held Azzi’s calf softly as she slid on the first heel, Azzi’s hand coming to rest on Paige’s shoulder to keep her balance. Her fingertips curled into the cotton of Paige’s shirt as she held on.

Once both heels were on, Paige looked up from where she was kneeled and found Azzi’s eyes already on her. Azzi’s hand was still holding onto her shoulder even though both legs were even now and the physical touch along with the positioning made the air between them a little tense.

Skye cleared her throat from the other side of the room silently reminding Azzi that there were people not a part of her personal team moving around the area.

Azzi blinked and broke the stare before she straightened her posture and took a small step back, rubbing her palms on her thighs as she did. Paige stood up next, stepping back to give her more space.

Azzi turned on her heel, doing a slow spin in place, a grin forming as she looked over her shoulder. “Well how do I look?”

Paige grinned, tilting her head as she "assessed" Azzi’s outfit. “Folks at GMA don’t know their mornin’s about to be graced by an angel.”

Azzi’s face and neck warmed as she dropped her chin, trying to hide her smile behind her hand. “Stop,” she mumbled under her breath, laughing as she turned away from Paige.

“I’m serious.”

“Azzi, cameras are ready,” Skye said as she ran through a list in her head before Azzi walked out.

Azzi nodded as she started walking to the door but she realized halfway there her phone was still in her hand. She turned around and took a few quick steps back to Paige. “Can you hold this for me please?”

Paige took and slid it into her pocket. “Good luck out there.”

Azzi smiled and gave Paige a quick wink before she was turning around and walking through the door. Rolling her shoulders back as she got herself ready to be in front of a camera.

As soon as Azzi’s segment started it was clear she was someone born to be in front of a camera. She was a natural in every sense; poised without being stiff and full of charisma that made even the scripted moments feel personal. Her energy was just always contagious, allowing her to make the most polished sets feel warm and personal.

One of the hosts smiled, turning toward her. “So, first of all, Azzi, what a season. You’ve been everywhere lately, and your rookie season was just absolutely incredible. What’s been the biggest lesson or takeaway for you this year?”

Azzi nodded as she listened, her fingers laced in her lap. “Honestly…I think this season just taught me how to lead in a new way. Not just on the court, but off of it. I’m not the loudest in a room but there were moments where I had to trust my voice more, learn how to balance being present for my team while also protecting myself and what I needed.”

The other host chimed in, “And physically, I mean wow, you looked stronger than ever. As a rookie you were out there giving vets what you guys like to call, ‘welcome to the league moments.’ How are you feeling now?”

Azzi chuckled. “I feel good. Tired but in the best way. I gave everything I had to the season because that’s really the only way I know how to play.”

“Fair enough,” the host said. “So how did you wind down after it was all wrapped up? We see you everywhere these days doing events left and right. How do you recharge?”

Azzi’s smile was completely genuine and natural from this question. “I actually spent some time out of the city,” she said “It was amazing…a sort of reset from the rest of the world. Definitely something I’m going to try to do more often.”

“Oh? What was your favorite part?”

There was a pause before she answered, her brain naturally going one direction before she had to pivot to a PR response. “I, uh…I learned I’m actually kind of good at riding a horse,” she said, laughing a little. “So that’s definitely something I plan on doing again.”

Behind the cameras, Paige leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Azzi said that she grinned a little from the corner of her mouth, as she stored that new information away. Skye, who was standing nearby glanced at Paige but didn’t say anything.

The segment wrapped with a few more light questions. Azzi talked about how the fans in Dallas had immediately shown up for her, how the city had embraced her like one of its own. They touched on the community, the culture, the energy on game days and the new facility. She grinned when one of the anchors joked about the crowd chanting her name.

“We hear them every game,” Azzi said. “And I hear them. I really do. That kind of love sticks with you.”

“Clearly, Dallas is lucky to have you,” the host said as the segment began to fade out. “We’ll all be watching next season. Don’t keep us waiting too long.” Azzi gave the camera a smile and wave until they cut to another segment.

She stepped out of frame, relaxing her posture now that she was off air. Azzi saw Paige standing near the walk and started walking toward her.

Paige grinned and opened her mouth and Azzi just knew she was about to say something charming but she had to reach her hand out quickly to pause her.

“Wait hold on,” Azzi said, brushing her fingers over the mic still clipped to her vest. She turned toward one of the crew members nearby and pointed at the mic with an apologetic smile. “Can you take this off for me?”

They nodded, stepping forward to unclip the mic for her, coiling the wire and grabbing the transmitter. Once it was off Azzi turned back toward Paige and guided her back toward her glam room away from the buzz of the set.

She shut the door behind them and as soon as she sat on the couch she was pulling off her heels. Paige sat in the armchair across from spreading her legs to get comfortable. When she smiled at Azzi, Azzi’s face mirrored herself immediately. “Can I flirt with you now?”

The door cracked open again and Skye slipped in. Her expression said enough for Azzi before she even spoke.

Azzi groaned and tipped her head back in frustration. Not only from interruption but whatever she knew was about to come out of Skye’s mouth. “What is it,” she said flatly.

“I moved around the shoot for the new jerseys and your endorsement recordings,” Skye said, walking further into the room.

“But…?”

Skye gave her a look that just almost passed for apologetic if Azzi hadn’t known her since college. “But you’re going to have to take Aziaha’s place at the event tonight. She can’t make it, and they need someone from the team to show face.”

Azzi rubbed her temples. “What kind of event?”

“Some league dinner thing. Media, sponsors, donors. Just the usual buttoned up crowd. You won’t have to stay long. Literally just wave at the camera when they mention the Wings, eat dinner and you can go. They just need someone there.” She paused, then added, “Preferably someone who didn’t have a negative plus minus this season, so...”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “You’re shady.”

Skye lifted her hands. “Just the messenger.”

Azzi sighed, leaning further into the couch like the weight of her day was starting to press on her like always. “What time is the event?”

“Carpet starts around 7:30. You don’t need to show up until eight,” Skye said, flipping to a page in her planner. “I’ll have glam come to your place around six-thirty so you don’t have to travel.”

Azzi nodded, already mentally shifting her schedule. “Paige needs styling.”

Paige looked completely caught off guard. “Wait, excuse me darlin’?”

Azzi turned to her. “You’re coming with me to the event.”

Paige sat up a little straighter, the corners of her mouth twitching because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to argue or smile. “You don’t need to worry about puttin’ clothes on me.”

Azzi tilted her head playfully. “Paige you didn’t bring anything other than flannels, carhartt shirts, and white tees.”

Paige grinned as she thought about it. “Ok that’s fair.”

Skye stopped herself from laughing, tapping a note into her phone. “I’ll make sure styling brings some options for her. Paige, how tall are you?”

Paige glanced at her. “’Round 6'1.”

Skye didn’t look up from her planner as she said, “Mmm. 6’1s tall.” She looked up pointedly at Azzi.

Azzi rolled her eyes, catching the implication but choosing not to dignify it.

“Alright like I said, I’ll have glam come to the loft around six-thirty. Actually I’m going to do six to give them some extra time. The car will be there by seven thirty, seven fourty-ish to give you time to pull up right at eight.” As she started heading for the door Skye added one more thing, “And Azzi don’t disappear before then. They already have your name on the lineup.”

Azzi waved her hand. “Yeah alright I’m not going anywhere.”

“Alright,” Skye said, halfway out the door. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

Once the door shut behind her, Azzi let her head fall back against the couch and she let out a long sigh. Paige reached over and tapped her knee gently. “Still glad you brought me along?”

Azzi cracked one of her eyes open, grinning despite her slight frustration. “Ask me again after I see what they dress you in.”

When Paige and Azzi stepped outside, Texas was starting to warm the pavement. The front of the studio had a small group of fans gathered behind a yellow tape barrier, a few holding signs while others started recording as soon as they saw Azzi.

Azzi paused next to Paige nodding toward them. “I’m just gonna go sign a few things.”

“Go ahead. I’ll get the truck.”

Paige walked off with Azzi’s bag just as the valet pulled up with the truck. The fans’ eyes briefly followed her before they returned their attention to Azzi.

As Azzi started signing things and taking pictures Paige leaned against the passenger door with her arms crossed. She looked up toward the sky trying to get some of the sun she’d been missing, content when she felt it warming her face.

A few fans caught onto her being there with Azzi and discreetly angled their phones toward her. When Azzi finished speaking to everyone she gave the group a quick wave before she walked toward the truck. Paige opened the door for her, of course holding out her hand to help her get in. Azzi took it and stepped in mumbled a shy, “thank you,” holding Paige’s arm for balance.

By the time the truck pulled off, the internet and fans had already done what they do best.

[X/Twitter Post - @/hoopstarzdaily] 📹| Azzi Fudd stopped to sign for fans outside the Dallas News studio this morning but who's that mystery girl helping her get in the truck? 👀🐎

💬 @/depressedwingsfan what’s the saying…save a horse, ride a cowboy 😭

💬 @/azfuddfan35 hold onnnn wasn’t she just on live TV talking about how she just learned how to ride a horse?? let me find out 👀

Inside the truck, Paige had one hand loosely on the wheel as they pulled away from the studio. “You gonna let me put some food in your stomach, sweetheart?”

Azzi turned to look at Paige. “You feeding me now?”

“I mean,” Paige shrugged, grinning, “I did just wake up at 4AM for you. Feels like the least you could do is let me feed you.”

“That logic’s questionable but ok.” After scrolling for a few minutes Azzi tapped on a spot and the car's map rerouted. “I’ve been craving this place.”

Paige checked the screen and nodded.

It only took a few more minutes before Paige was pulling into a small local spot with an outdoor walk up window. When they got their food in to-go containers Paige turned toward Azzi. “You mind if we eat out back?” she asked, nodding toward the truck bed. “Kinda miss bein’ out in the sun.”

Azzi looked amused at the concept of missing the Texas sun. “Yeah of course but you say that like you’ve been trapped underground for six years.”

Paige just grinned and popped the tailgate open. “Not underground. Just inside too long.”

She hopped into the trunk bed first putting the food down before she turned around to help Azzi step up. Azzi hesitated for a quick second, feeling like a damsel in Paige’s presence before remembering she was an athlete. She grabbed Paige’s hand and let her guide her up before settling next to her to open their food containers.

The bed of the truck was warm underneath them after being hit by the Texas sun. The two of them always started in a quiet limbo so Azzi leaned back as she ate, enjoying the warmth hitting her skin. Paige was next to her with her shoes off and her long legs stretched out. She was as comfortable here as she’d be anywhere.

The city rarely let Azzi breathe. Being here usually meant constant movement for her. Always somewhere to be, someone to call, things to check off. Her days sped by her in 2x speed, her life pulled along by a current whether she was ready or not. But sitting in the back of the pickup truck with Paige next to her made everything feel still. Like the city had pressed pause for her so she could take a breath. So she could glide with the current instead of being consumed by it.

Azzi didn’t know how Paige did it. How she made her feel so calm, subtly anchoring her to moments without being obvious about it. Azzi hadn’t even realized how tense she’d been until her shoulders relaxed when she felt the sun, how tight her chest felt until it eased open just from being around Paige.

The thought that Paige would be gone soon drifted to her consciousness. That she’d be right back to being everywhere and nowhere at once. Azzi shoved the thought aside before it could take shape.

She took another bite of her food before she glanced sideways. “So…” she said, casually, “is this a date?”

Paige turned her head toward Azzi grinning at the question as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You think I’d take you on a date and make you eat in the back of a pickup truck?”

Azzi laughed. “I mean you did pay for both of us.”

“That’s just manners.” Paige said, leaning back on her palms. “If this were a date, I’d be a whole lot more respectful.”

Azzi’s eyebrow arched, a little curious now. “Respectful?”

“Yeah. I’d pick you up properly, have some nice flowers for you, take you somewhere nice.”

“Ohh, so flowers are mandatory for our first date?”

“Absolutely,” Paige said, with a smile on her face at Azzi’s implication of their absolutely being a first date. “Big, bright ones too. Not those sad grocery store bouquets.”

Azzi laughed quietly as she went back to eating. Paige had finished already but she waited patiently for Azzi to finish her food.

When Azzi was done she wiped her hands before laying her head on Paige’s shoulder. “Is this okay?” Azzi asked softly. Her tone was a little unsure.

Paige angled her head toward Azzi. “’Course it is, sweetheart.”

They sat like that for a while, letting the sun warm their skin as the occasional car flew past. The moment felt like being outside of time, the world continuing on without them.

“Can I be honest with you?”

Paige nodded once. “Always.”

Azzi hesitated before just deciding to be honest, realizing there was no need to be overly polished. “I have feelings for you.”

“It’s weird,” she added quickly, not looking at Paige yet. “I mean I know we talk a lot but we’ve physically spent less than a week together. That’s not usually how I operate. I don’t do fast or feelings really…”

Paige looked down at her. “You’re not the only one feelin’ it. You know how I am. I take my time, move slow and let the world move around me.” She smiled in the middle of her words. “But you make my heart race like nobody’s business.”

Azzi let out a short laugh, the slight weight of the moment breaking to let some light in. “You’re such an old lady,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against Paige’s.

Paige laughed too, making her head tip back. “Excuse me for bein’ old school. What ya’ll like to say these days? You want me to have some more rizz?”

Azzi burst out laughing. “You have plenty, no need to ever say that again.”

Paige grinned. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Not even a little bit,” Azzi teased, still laughing.

“Tough crowd.” Paige said, chuckling as she took a sip of her water.

They talked a little longer the conversation wondering to random topics until Paige stretched out her legs and looked over at Azzi again. “C’mon,” she said gently, nudging her knee. “We should head back. I gotta take care of your car before it gets too late.”

Azzi stood up with her cup in her hand. She sipped from her straw as she said, “You sure you don’t wanna let a real mechanic handle it?”

“I am a real mechanic, sweetheart. Just don’t charge you hourly.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling as she let Paige help her down.

They made a quick stop at an AutoZone on the way back to Azzi’s place so Paige could grab a few things she needed. When they got back to Azzi’s building, Paige didn’t bother heading upstairs. She pulled into one of Azzi's designated garage spots and turned off the engine.

“You don’t want to change first?” Azzi asked as she stepped out of the truck.

Paige shut her door and moved to the truck bed to grab the toolbox and two jacks tucked in the weatherproof container. “I get the feeling if I go up there, I’ll get distracted.”

Azzi crossed her arms, leaning against the truck. “So I’ll just stand here quietly then.”

Paige smirked, shaking her head as she circled back to the driver’s side. She pulled the door open and leaned in to turn the truck back on. “You can sit in there looking pretty and play some nice music for us,” she offered over her shoulder.

Paige stepped back from the truck and peeled off her white tee leaving her in a tank top. She held the shirt out toward Azzi who had just gotten settled into the driver’s seat. “And you can hold this for safekeepin’ too.”

Azzi took it from her with a smirk. “Mmm. You just like having me hold your stuff.”

“Can’t think of anyone better.”

Paige jacked up the car before sliding jack stands in place for support. She grabbed the closed lid pan and slid underneath the car to unbolt the drain plug letting the old oil stream out.

Azzi had her legs crossed in the driver’s seat, watching Paige with satisfaction even though she had no idea what was being done underneath the car.

“You know sweetheart,” Paige’s voice echoed under the car, “there’s somethin’ I could use some help with.”

“Oh? You want me to get under there with you? Risk my whole outfit?”

There was a laugh from underneath the car before Paige’s voice came again. “Just need you to hand me that new oil filter I got at the store.”

Azzi hopped out of the truck and grabbed the new oil filter, crouching down to pass it to her. Paige’s fingers brushed Azzi’s as she took it making sure she didn’t get any oil on her. When she slid from under the car, she had a streak of grime on her forearm and a light sheen of sweat across her collarbone.

Azzi blinked a few times. Paige wiped her hands on a rag without looking up. “You’re starin’,” she said, not needing to see the expression on Azzi’s face to know it. Azzi folded her arms, trying to play it off. “I’m just making sure you did it right.”

“Ss that what you’re callin’ it?” Paige grinned, tossing the rag down before she picked up the fresh oil to refill it. “‘M just sayin. Ain’t nobody ever looked at me changin’ oil like I was out here modeling for one of your magazines.”

“Now that you mention it, I’d probably thoroughly enjoy that.”

Paige paused when she processed what Azzi meant. She couldn’t do anything but shake her head as she capped the oil and moved on to the tires.

She made quick work of loosening the lugs and getting the tires rotated. Instead of getting back in the driver’s seat Azzi was leaning on the truck and she caught herself chewing on her bottom lip as she watched more often than not.

By the time Paige lowered the car back down and stood up, brushing her hands on her pants, Azzi’s eyes were a little dazed.

“You alright over there, sweetheart?”

Azzi smiled as she trailed her eyes up to meet Paige’s. “I’m definitely more than alright.”

Paige turned around to hide the heat rising to her cheeks as she leaned down to grab the new windshield wipers she got. Once she got the color of her cheeks back to normal she said, “C’mere,” nodding toward the front of the car. “Wanna show you how to do this part.”

Azzi pushed off the truck and walked over, standing next to Paige as she pulled the blade so it sat straight up.

“So,” Paige said, motioning toward the hook and latch setup, “this part right here? That’s what locks the blade onto the arm. All you really gotta do is pull down gently and it’ll slide right odd.” She demonstrated slowly, releasing the clip with her thumb and sliding the old blade off. Azzi watched before Paige gestured to the other side.

“Alright. Your turn.”

Azzi stepped around to the other side, carefully lifting the arm of the other wiper. She copied what Paige did, pressing the latch, but the blade didn’t budge. “It’s stuck,” she mumbled.

Paige came up next to her to fold her warm over Azzi’s. “Here,” she said, guiding her fingers down a little lower. “You gotta press right here. Feel that little give when you press in?”

Azzi nodded and with Paige’s help, the old blade slipped free.

Paige grinned. “You’re a natural.” She handed her the new blade. “Slide it up this time, put it under the hook first, just like I showed you and you’ll hear it click into place.”

Azzi lined it up and pushed up gently. It resisted for a second before she used a little more force and it clicked into place.

“There you go.” Paige tapped the hood of the car. “Wipers are officially brand new.”

Paige put everything away before they headed upstairs. The elevator barely closed behind them in the apartment when Azzi heard Paige say something about needing a shower as she headed toward the guest room. Azzi smiled to herself, still faintly buzzed off the sight of Paige under her car.

Azzi was getting water from the kitchen when she heard someone knock on her door. Azzi was confused as she walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “What the hell.” She pulled the door open to see Caroline standing there.

Caroline stepped into the apartment, “I was in the neighborhood and I figured we could go get drinks or something. I’ve been so bored.”

Azzi forced a smile, stepping aside to let her in. “Yeah, um…you could’ve texted.”

Caroline dropped her bag on the island, but her movements slowed down the more her eyes scanned the room making her eyebrows crease. She saw Paige’s white tee and flannel from last night thrown over the back of the chair. Her gaze shifted again and paused when she saw another white tee on the island, Paige’s Von Dutch hat on top of it. Then she processed the sound of the water coming from the guest bathroom. She looked back at Azzi slowly. “Do you have company?”

Azzi blinked. “What? No..I mean…yes, but—” She cleared her throat, trying to make it sound light. “Yeah. Just Paige.”

Both of Caroline's eyebrows shot up. “Like blonde country girl with the farm? That Paige?”

Azzi gave a small nod, hoping her expression stayed unreadable. “Yeah. She’s visiting for the weekend.”

“I didn’t know y’all kept in touch,” Caroline said.

“We did,” Azzi said, then added a little quickly, “I mean we do. Just here and there, you know.”

Caroline hummed, still not moving. “Rightt.”

Azzi glanced down the hall, pulse skipping a little at the thought of Paige stepping out of the guest room unaware that Azzi had company. She turned back to Caroline, suddenly very antsy.

“Listen, I would love to catch up Car,” she said, walking toward the front door, “but we’re probably about to just take a nap. It’s been a long day and I have an event later.”

“Y’all already ate?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, hand already holding the doorknob. “And you know how she is, early riser, early sleeper. Farmer stuff. Probably needs a nap before later.”

Caroline laughed under her breath. “Mmhm. Right farmer stuff.”

Azzi held the door open, giving her the most gracious please-please-leave-before-she-walks-out-in-a-towel look she could muster.

Caroline grabbed her bag. “Well, alright then. Tell Farmer Paige I said hi.”

“I will,” Azzi said, gently nudging her out.

“And maybe next time I’ll text first. Seems you’ll be a little more private these days,” Caroline said, stepping into the hallway.

“Maybe. I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow," Azzi said, closing the door the moment Caroline was out of sight.

About five minutes later Paige stepped out of the guest room, tugging on a fresh shirt when she saw Azzi scrolling through movie options on the TV.

“You don’t even like romcoms,” Paige said as she walked toward the couch.

“I never said that.”

“You implied it. Twice. Just last week actually.”

Azzi shrugged. “Maybe I was lying to save face.”

Paige sat down as they tried to find a movie to turn on. It only took a few minutes, and Azzi pouting at Paige for the first time for the blonde to cave and let Azzi pick some cheesy movie.

They ended up laying on the couch, with the lights turned off and a soft throw blanket spread across both of their laps. They weren’t cuddling, exactly but they weren’t far from it either.

When a particularly cheesy scene played, Azzi turned her head to catch Paige trying not to laugh.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Azzi teased.

“Not unless the dog dies.”

“Mm. You sure? Thought I saw a little lip quiver over there.”

“I’ll throw this pillow at you sweetheart.”

Azzi smirked. “No you wouldn’t.”

The banter faded as their attention went back to the movie, a shared smile spreading between them. Azzi fell asleep for maybe twenty minutes at one point during the movie and when she woke up the movie’s final act was picking up. Azzi’s fingers found a loose thread on the throw blanket and absentmindedly twisted it between her fingers to keep herself awake, occasionally brushing against Paige’s knee.

Paige looked down when she noticed her moving and whispering, “Hey sleepy head.”

Azzi smiled to herself but didn’t say anything.

As soon as the credits rolled there was a gentle knock on Azzi’s door.

Azzi pushed herself upright to turn on the light. “That’s probably glam.”

Paige stayed reclined with her arms crossed behind her head as Azzi walked off to open the door.

…

When everything was up and running the room smelled like setting spray and the flat irons as R&B music filtering through the room. Azzi was sitting comfortably in one of her chairs with her phone in one hand as she scrolled through instagram as a stylist carefully straightened her edges.

She didn’t look up until one of the stylists helping Paige came around the corner and called out playfully, “Your blondie’s hard to please Azzi.”

Azzi looked up from her phone with a smile. “What’s wrong?”

“She thinks all the tailored pants are ‘too tight,’” the stylist said, laughing a little. “Like, ma’am. That’s what tailored pants are supposed to do.”

Azzi laughed, putting her phone down for a second as she turned her attention to the rolling rack nearby. “Let me see the options.”

The stylist started showing her a few pants she was considering and when she was done Azzi said, “Let me see those black Louis Vuitton ones. Third hanger in.”

The stylist passed them to her and Azzi held them up by the waistband, folding them to inspect the ankles before saying, “She should be fine with these.”

The stylist took them from her. “That’s what you think.”

Azzi laughed. “Just tell her I like them if she argues.”

The stylist was walking back around the corner. “Oop. Say less.”

Azzi leaned back in her chair as the makeup artist started on her eyeliner, a small grin still on her face as she imagined Paige standing in the other room probably judging the pants for being two centimeters too short. Somehow, it only made Azzi more endeared.

As glam was wrapping up Azzi was standing up as the stylists were making small final tweaks to her black dress. She adjusted the delicate drape across her chest so enough cleavage showed without doing too much. Her straightened hair was swept to one side so they could put a simple tennis necklace around her neck to rest against her collarbone.

When they were done Azzi glanced in the mirror and gave a satisfied nod.

A few steps behind her, the sound of shoes echoed against the floor.

Paige was walking around the corner with the black Louis Vuitton, a button up tucked in neatly, the first two buttons left open. Her hair was down in natural waves, and a tennis necklace also rested around her neck. She tugged at one of the sleeve cuffs as she walked in, adjusting it distractedly until her eyes landed on Azzi.

She froze for a second. Blinked once a little quickly. Then again, slower.

“Well, damn…” Paige said under her breath, catching herself and standing up a little straighter, clearing her throat. “I mean—sorry. Um. You look…wow.”

Azzi didn’t turn around from the mirror right away. She just smirked faintly at her through the mirror. “You like?”

Paige laughed, hand rubbing the back of her neck as she stepped closer. “Sweetheart, I’m tryin’ real hard to be respectful right now, but you’re makin’ it near impossible.”

Azzi turned around after hearing that, deeply enjoying the effect she was having on her. Paige’s eyes were locked on her face and only her face as if that was the only safe place for her to look. Even then, Azzi caught the subtle dilation in Paige’s blue eyes, that faint darkness around the iris that gave her away. The corner of Azzi’s mouth twitched as she took a step closer.

Paige held her ground but her eyes fluttered closed when Azzi’s perfume consumed her space.

Azzi reached up to “fix” Paige’s collar. Making sure she didn’t break eye contact as she did it, her makeup casting a soft smokiness over her eyes, making them look deeper. Paige took a deep breath as her eyes finally swept down Azzi’s figure before snapping back up to look somewhere over Azzi’s shoulder, trying to pretend she wasn’t spiraling a little.

“You smell amazing, darlin’,” Paige murmured.

Azzi smiled at the compliment before she mercifully took a step back, easing the tension for both of them. Her eyes dropped as she let herself take in Paige’s full look. The black Louis Vuitton fit her just right, and the hem of the pants sat perfectly over the Prada shoes that gave Paige a few extra inches, still leaving her taller than Azzi even with heels on.

“You clean up nice, country girl,” she said as she walked away to grab her clutch off the island.

Paige blinked and her eyes couldn’t help but trail after her, and when Azzi turned around again, she caught her. Paige tried to look away, but it was too late.

Azzi stopped herself from grinning, the tip of her tongue brushing the inside of her cheek. “You gonna make it through the night?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh and exhaled hard. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” she said genuinely, a little embarrassed. “I really am tryin’ to be respectful.”

Azzi crossed the short distance between them. “It’s fine,” she clarified, dropping her gaze to Paige’s lips for a second. “I like it.”

Paige stood still like Azzi had just flipped the table on her and she had no idea what to do with her hands so she put them in her pockets.

Somewhere down the hall, someone called out to let Azzi know the car was here for them.

Azzi walked ahead of Paige, swaying her hips a little more than usual. Paige swallowed harshly, shaking her head to herself as she mumbled, “Lord please have mercy.”

…

Luckily for Azzi, Skye hadn’t exaggerated. It really was just a league dinner. Azzi didn’t have to give any speeches or red carpet interviews, just smile for the usual cameras.

Azzi stepped out of the black SUV by herself, pausing at the designated photo line. The lights flashed like usual, the photographers called her name, and she smiled just enough to get through it without looking bored before she was able to duck past the ropes.

Someone from the venue had already come to escort Paige to the ballroom when they got there. Paige didn’t look like she belonged in an event like this. She was too composed for such a high networking event that had everyone else a little on edge, but at the same time, she looked good amongst everyone. So good that occasionally people walking past did a double take.

By the time Azzi made it to the ballroom, Paige was already at their table, observing the people around the room.

When Paige saw Azzi approaching the table she stood up to pull Azzi’s chair out for her.

Azzi smiled and said, “Thank you.” Smoothing out the front of her dress before sitting down.

Paige helped slide her chair in before she moved to sit back in her own chair.

Across from them Curt and the new head coach of the Wings were talking. Azzi’s smile thinned slightly as she acknowledged them with a nod making sure she offered enough to seem polite—but not enough to invite real conversation. She could feel Paige glance at her, picking up on the shift in her energy.

Once the quick greetings were over and Azzi had given the required “It’s good to see you again,” Azzi turned her attention back to Paige.

She leaned a little closer toward her so nobody else could hear. “Please tell me you already figured out the sweet treats they have.”

Paige grinned, dipping her head toward Azzi’s ear. “There’s a chocolate mousse situation on the corner table. I even saw they had some nutella for your strawberries.”

Azzi laughed, easing back in her seat. “See, that’s why I brought you.”

Paige got a little closer, lips barely brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear. “That the only reason?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at the comment, turning to look at Paige closely. “For now.”

Paige tapped her finger against the table, trying to look unaffected. “I’ll take that.”

“Good evening, everyone,” someone greeted through the mic with a polished voice. “We’re honored to be joined tonight by some of Dallas’ finest across leagues, sports, and generations.”

A few polite claps followed as he began listing notable attendees. “Representing FC Dallas, we have Luciana Acosta,” the list went on with cameras panning to different tables, each athlete smiling like they were supposed to.

When the camera shifted towards the Wings table, the host’s voice got a little more upbeat. “And gracing us tonight with her presence tonight, fresh off an incredible season, we have the lovely Rookie of the Year from the Dallas Wings Azzi Fudd.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t falter at the compliment. She offered a dimpled smile and a quick wave to the nearest camera lens, the room’s applause getting a little louder for her. The camera lingered before panning away to another table.

“You always make it look easy,” Paige whispered so she didn’t interrupt the evening.

Azzi smiled. “Someone has to.”

Not long after the host spoke, waitstaff started gliding between tables, with trays of red and white wine, champagne, or sparkling water for guests.

One of them stepped toward their table, offering Paige a glass of white wine. She reached for it out of politeness, but Azzi caught the server’s attention politely.

“Would it be possible to swap that for a beer?” Azzi asked with a warm smile.

The waiter nodded. “Of course. Do you have a preference?”

“Do you have Lone Star?”

The server gave an apologetic shake of his head. “No ma’am, but we do have Shiner Bock, Modelo, and Stella.”

Azzi nodded once. “Umm let’s go with a Shiner Bock please.”

“Coming right up,” he said, disappearing with Paige’s untouched wine.

Paige leaned back in her chair, doing an awful job at hiding her grin. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Azzi said casually, nudging a piece of unseasoned carrot with her fork.

Paige leaned in to whisper. “Promise I’ll take you to get some real food after this.”

That got a quiet laugh from Azzi as the server returned, setting the cold beer in front of Paige. Paige gave him a small nod. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

She took a swig of it before tilting it toward Azzi. Azzi gave her a look shaking her head no.

“You sure? This one’s a little sweeter. Has a small taste of caramel you’d like.”

“We’ve been over this.”

Paige gave her a boyish grin, that was a little too charming to say no to. “This one’s different, I swear.”

“Paige,” Azzi warned with no real backbone.

Paige’s blue eyes sparkled as she said, “Yes, darlin’?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but reached for the bottle anyway. She took a small skeptical sip. When the taste hit her tongue it was more gentle than she expected and for once she didn’t make a face. She passed it back. “Okay. That one wasn’t that bad.”

Paige grinned like she won a bet. “Knew you had a little Texas in you.”

Azzi snorted. “You’re so lucky you’re on my good side.”

Paige lifted the beer in a toast to herself. “To luck, then.”

Azzi glanced around, noticing the shift in the environment as guests started mingling with each other with the cocktail hour. “You wanna do the whole schmooze and smile thing?” she asked.

Paige stood up, offering her hand to help Azzi stand. “Not even a little.”

“Good. Let’s go before somebody tries to corner me into talking about sponsoring the team.”

“Too late,” Paige mumbled, subtly tilting her head toward a man in a navy suit who was eyeing them from his table across the room.

Azzi followed her gaze and unfortunately made direct eye contact with him. She snapped her attention away as soon as she saw him and wrapped her fingers tighter around Paige’s. “Alright we’re leaving,” she said as they slipped toward the exit.

When they got back to Azzi’s place, Azzi barely had time to take off her heels before Paige was grabbing the truck keys off the counter so they could go get some food. Azzi smiled and let Paige carry her to the truck after insisting they didn’t have time for Azzi to put on her shoes until she got in the car.

They pulled into a late night fast food spot with a glowing sign and no line. Azzi wanted to eat in the truck bed again so Paige laid down a blanket that was kept tucked behind the seat considering the cost of the clothes they had on.

They ate out of the paper bags and laughed at shit that wasn’t even funny. Occasionally Paige would have to reach over and push Azzi’s hair out of her face when a warm breeze would push past them.

Once the food was gone and the night was starting to get a little cooler, they climbed down and drove back to Azzi’s apartment in silence. Azzi leaned on Paige the entire drive back as she watched the city speed by.

When they got back the apartment was dim, the evening winding down naturally.

“Goodnight,” Paige said at the guestroom hall, already unbuttoning her shirt.

Azzi smiled at her as she walked toward her room. “Goodnight, P.”

Paige disappeared into the guest room and Azzi into hers. They both showered, slipped into something softer, and fell into their beds. They were exhausted in that oddly peaceful way.

Azzi laid on her back with one arm folded under her head, eyes wide open in the dark.

It had been maybe 45 minutes but the room felt too quiet. The noise of the day had faded into silence. No more laughter echoing around them from the truck bed, no Paige teasing her over trying to steal her last fry when in reality Azzi could’ve just taken it. Just complete stillness. The kind of stillness Azzi would’ve killed for any other day but today it felt like a hole that Paige had carved only for her to fill.

Azzi turned, letting the cool sheets brush over her skin like they always did. But they felt colder tonight so she forced herself to stop moving and closed her eyes. The day played on a loop behind her eyelids, warming her up from the inside.

It had been a long time since Azzi felt this warm. She felt it lingering her chest, replacing the parts of her where things tended to stay locked up, shelved behind sarcasm and distractions. She looked over at the pillow next to her. It laid flat and undisturbed like always. She exhaled through her nose and turned onto her side, curling into herself like she could make the space feel smaller.

The longer she laid there, the more she realized she didn’t want the night to end like this. Not with her here and Paige just across the hall. Not with all these feelings left suspended between them.

She was about to get up when she heard a soft knock at her door. She slid out of bed faster than she could think, her feet hitting the floor before her brain processed the sound. When she pulled it open she saw Paige standing there looking a little unsure. There was something hesitant about her posture, the way her weight shifted on her feet like she was second guessing herself in real time.

Azzi saw the uncertainty and decided to speak first. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” Her voice caught, and she stopped speaking all together, eyes flicking toward the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep, sweetheart.” She turned around like she planned to walk away, but Azzi’s hand reached to catch her wrist. Paige stopped moving when she felt Azzi grab her and turned back around letting out a sigh. “Hey,” she tried again.

Azzi smiled at her. “Hi.”

Paige glanced at her, then dropped her gaze. “I couldn’t sleep again,” she admitted. “I was hopin’ you’d be on the couch again but you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t,” Azzi replied softly, still holding her hand.

Paige nodded like she understood, but then added, “I just…I remembered how you like to talk at night. How that one time you made me stay on the phone with you for hours ‘cause you didn’t wanna be alone.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, biting her cheek so she didn’t smile. “You came to my room at one in the morning just to talk?”

There was a pause, filled with the tension that had been hovering between something old and something dangerously close to new. Paige grinned, as she said, “I promise that’s all it is.”

“That’s the problem,” Azzi teased, before interlacing her fingers with Paige’s and gently pulling her into the room. She shut the door behind them and led her toward the bed, the ambient light spilling through the windows brushing her tan skin in gold and shadows. Paige looked around like she needed something to focus on, “This feels a little more tense than just talkin’, darlin’.”

“That’s because your head’s in the gutter,” Azzi said without looking toward her.

That earned her a crooked smile from Paige, who said nothing as Azzi climbed into the bed first, settling on her side. Paige followed her lead, lying on her back next to her with both hands tucked behind her head.

There was a few minutes of comfortable silence between them; comfortable, warm even. Azzi's gaze wandered across the angles of Paige’s face, the way the light danced over her sharp jaw, the slight part in her lips, the rise and fall of her chest. Paige’s eyes flicked toward her, a small smile twitching at her lips when she caught her looking.

“So what do you wanna talk about?” Paige asked.

Azzi, making a habit of not answering Paige’s questions, just kept looking at her. Like she was trying to configure if Paige being here was real or some scene she was drawing up from her imagination. But then their eyes locked again, and the moment bent a little in her chest letting her know it was in fact real. .

“Maybe let’s talk about what you lookin’ at me like that means,” Paige added.

Azzi's voice was quiet when she answered. “It means what I’ve been telling you all weekend.”

Paige shifted her arm and brought her hand up to gently brush the side of Azzi’s face, keeping her fingertips gentle against her delicate skin, reverent in the way she traced the line of her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, Azzi.”

“You can’t say things like that to a woman you’re refusing to kiss.”

Paige’s thumb paused at her jaw, her smile tugging back in. “I’m not refusin’,” she whispered. “I’m just tryin’ to make sure when I do it, it’s not ‘cause you’re tired, or lonely, or layin’ in the dark. I want it to count for somethin’ more than that.”

Azzi stared at her, struck by the softness in Paige’s voice. “I want it to be somethin’ you want all the time and not just sometimes sweetheart.”

They were simple words. Not overly poetic or dressed up in metaphors and similes like writers like to do. Just simple words that she wanted Azzi to understand.

Yet, they made Azzi feel like her whole body was slowly being set alight. Her skin prickled with awareness, a hum starting deep in her core and rising like static to her chest, her neck, the tips of her fingers. It was the warmth she’d been craving for years and when she found it there was tension under it, that craved her just as much..

Paige wasn’t just saying she wanted to kiss her. She was telling Azzi she could, right now, easily. But she wouldn’t until Azzi was sure. It was juvenile, in theory. The idea of aching just to be kissed. But Azzi couldn’t remember the last time something as simple as anticipation made her feel this shaken.

She could feel her heart pounding not just in her chest, but in her throat, behind her knees, between her legs. Her whole body was suddenly aware of Paige. How she sounded, smelled, the heat always radiating off of her like temptation. LIke the apple from the Garden of Eden.

Azzi swallowed, keeping her gaze on those damn blue eyes that never stopped looking at her like she was it. With a voice barely an octave above a breath, she whispered, “I need you to stop talking.”

Paige took in her appearance, the dilation in her eyes, being so in tune with the moment that she felt like she could see the nerves radiating off of Azz’s skin. “Maybe we should go to bed,” she whispered.

Azzi nodded slowly.

Paige leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, love.”

She started to shift, getting ready to push herself up from the bed, but Azzi caught her wrist gently.

“Stay?” she asked.

Paige looked down at her wordlessly asking if that was a good idea.

Azzi met her gaze and said quietly, “I don’t want to be cold.” Then added quickly, “I just want to be close to you.”

Paige nodded and settled back into the bed.

“Can you hold me?” Azzi asked, more tentative than she meant to sound.

“We can lay however you need.”

Azzi shifted closer until her head rested on Paige’s chest, the steady beat of her heart beneath her. She slipped one leg over Paige’s and winded her arm around her waist. Paige’s hand found a respectful place at Azzi’s hip, the warmth of her palm felt through the cotton of Azzi’s shirt. “That okay?” Paige asked, referring to her hand placement.

Azzi nodded into her chest. “Yes,” she whispered. “Goodnight.”

Paige smiled, brushing her thumb gently along Azzi’s side. “Goodnight, Azzi.”

With the rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat beating calmly under her ear, Azzi let her body soften. The tightness in her chest uncoiled, thoughts quieted.

…

Azzi woke up draped fully across Paige, both of her legs tangled around her waist and her face tucked into the curve of Paige’s neck.

The buzzing of Azzi’s phone was a little insistent rattling against the nightstand. Paige stirred from the sound first. “Sweetheart your phone’s ringing,” she mumbled, the rasp in her voice sending a quiet thrill through Azzi even before she was fully awake.

Azzi groaned into Paige’s neck, reaching out blindly and fumbled for the phone. She swiped to answer without looking to see who it was.

“Azzi,” Skye’s voice traveled through the speaker sharply and way too awake for Azzi’s liking, “you’re supposed to be at the jersey shoot in an hour. Please don’t stress me out.”

Azzi blinked once, still half asleep. “Okay,” she said simply and hung up.

Calmness settled around the room again. Azzi whispered into Paige’s skin, “We should run away. Leave my phone behind.”

Paige let out a sleepy laugh that vibrated through her chest, arms still cradling Azzi in position. Azzi closed her eyes again, breathing in the sound of Paige’s laugh, how she felt wrapped in her arms, how it felt to be wrapped around her scent in her own bed. Azzi silently told herself that sound was her favorite thing to hear first thing in the morning. That beautiful laugh that made her chest flutter.

Eventually, she sighed and reluctantly pulled herself out of the warmth they’d made. She made sure she looked over her shoulder when she got out of bed. Paige still stretched out in her sheets, blonde hair a mess against the pillows, with an arm flung above her head shielding her blue eyes from the morning light.

Azzi took the mental picture and tucked it away somewhere private just for her.

They moved through their morning in parallel. Paige folded clothes into her duffle bag methodically, like dragging it out could delay the inevitable. Azzi blended up her smoothie in the kitchen, then made a second one, pouring it into a to-go cup Paige could take on the road.

They didn’t say much as they made their way to the garage. There wasn’t anything either of them knew how to say that wouldn’t make it harder.

In the garage, Paige tossed her bag in the backseat of the truck before walking Azzi to her car. Azzi stood by the driver’s side with her keys in hand, chewing the inside of her cheek like she didn’t trust herself to speak first.

Paige noticed like always. “Can I give you a hug?”

As soon as Azzi nodded Paige stepped into her space and wrapped her arms around her. Azzi let herself melt into it, let her face press into Paige’s shoulder, curling her arms tight around her shoulders like she could hold time in place if she tried hard enough.

“You okay?”

Azzi nodded but it was the nod you gave when you were trying to lie to yourself to feel better in a moment that felt like hell.

Paige’s eyebrows pulled together in that gentle way she always looked at Azzi. “What can I do?”

“I’m not tired. Or lonely. Or laying in the dark.”

It took Paige a second to register her own words being echoed back to her but when she did she smiled. “Are you sure?”

Azzi nodded. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

Paige tilted her head, studying her features. “You askin’ me to kiss you?”

Azzi gave the smallest smile. “I think I’ve been asking all weekend.”

That made Paige laugh under her breath. “Damn. I’ve been tryin’ to be the good guy all weekend.”

“You still are,” Azzi said. “But if you don’t kiss me now, I’m gonna think you don’t want to.”

Paige’s expression shifted into surprise, like the idea had never even crossed her mind. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to kiss you since you walked out of that elevator with that gorgeous smile of yours when I first got here.”

“Please just do it before I lose my mind then.”

For a second, neither of them moved as Paige assessed the situation. The garage around them was quiet and Azzi could hear the sound of Dallas waking up outside. It made the moment feel suspended.

Paige leaned in slowly, giving Azzi every chance she possibly could to pull back. When their lips connected there weren’t sparks but they fit perfectly.

Their lips found each other like it was something they'd done in a thousand lifetimes before this one. Azzi’s mouth was warm, pliant. Paige's lips tasted faintly of the smoothie Azzi had made her that morning. Sweet with cool berries and a trace of mint instead of kale. Azzi could taste the berries faintly on Paige’s tongue when they lingered longer than planned.

Paige led the kiss while somehow letting Azzi lead. Like she was reading her in real time, adapting to her reactions and what she wanted, offering without pressing. Azzi sighed into her mouth and the kiss deepened slightly, both of them tilting their heads and swelling their tongues gently together, a moment of softness melting into the sincere ache that they each were feeling before they pulled apart.

When they separated, Paige looked at Azzi and said, “Well there goes my whole bein’ respectful plan.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “That was respectful,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

Azzi leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of Paige’s mouth this time. “Positive.”

Paige grinned at the gesture. “I’m glad you opened the door last night.”

“I’m glad you knocked.”

Neither moved for a moment. Then Azzi’s phone buzzed again loudly against the calmness radiating between them. It rattled against her palm reminding her of everything outside of this little bubble. Azzi silenced it without checking the screen.

They shared one more hug, longer this time before Paige opened Azzi’s car door for her. Azzi gave her a soft look as she climbed in, rolling down the window.

“I’ll call you tonight?” she said, like she already missed her.

Paige leaned down putting her hand on the roof of the car and gave her that easy grin. She grabbed Azzi’s jaw gently kissing her one more time. “I’ll call you tonight, sweetheart.’” she said, blue eyes sparkling.

Azzi blushed as she nodded.

Paige winked at her and tapped the roof twice before she turned toward her truck. Azzi watched her climb in, start the engine, and drive off leaving the garage a little quieter, and Azzi’s heart a little louder.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

708 notes · View notes

withlovemark · 2 days ago

Text

THE ORGASM DONORS: YOU HAVE BOOKED MARK LEE!

pairing: donor! mark lee x client! reader | genre: smut | words: 9k+

warnings: STRICTLY 18+

an: just 9k of pure, filthy smut…i’m never making it to the gates of heaven. this idea came to me in a dream (a horny, wet dream) all because i fell asleep to a tiktok of jaemin spinning around in his little orgasm donor hoodie. insane what the mind can do. everyone give it up for the first donor! the birthday boy! my number one boy! mark lee! and my last gift to all of you. have fun reading! — with love, c.

you never thought it would get to this point. not because you were ashamed. but there was something about your twenty something’s, this far into adulthood, and still never having an orgasm that made you feel like your body was broken in a way you couldn’t explain.

you’d done everything — read every self help blog, followed the advice on reddit threads, bought a vibrator, a dildo, the rose toy that everyone said was guaranteed to give you a mind bending orgasm, you’d whispered your needs to your previous partners, even screamed at one or two, but no one ever got it right. no one ever got you there. not even yourself.

it started to feel like a cruel joke. something other people could have, just not you. until your best friend leaned in over lunch one lazy sunday, sipping her coffee and said, “have you ever heard of the neo orgasm clinic?”

“oh god,” you laughed, “like a place that teaches you how to come?”

she grinned, “not teaches. they do it for you. and it’s guaranteed.”

you blinked, “what? so i pay for someone to have sex with me?”

“you pay someone to make you orgasm,” she shrugged like it was no big deal, “wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world,” she says, sipping her coffee with a sly smirk.

and just like that, a seed of curiosity, or maybe desperation, rooted itself in your chest.

✚ BOOK NOW ✚

signing up was easier than expected. discreet, elegant, clinical but not cold. you filled up the introductory form — name, age, contact information, payment details, then moved onto the deeper intake.

step 1: medical verification. a form requesting a recent full panel STI test within the last month.

step 2: sexual preferences & boundaries. the screen lit up with a list and instructions

check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries at all times.

you skimmed the list, heart racing just a little and checked the following:

☑️ bondage

☑️ choking

☑️ clitoral stimulation

☑️ domination

☑️ dirty talk

☑️ edging

☑️ fingering

☑️ kissing

☑️ impact play

☑️ nipple play

☑️ oral

☑️ orgasm control

☑️ praise

☑️ rough sex

☑️ spanking

☑️ spitting

☑️ vaginal penetration

you hovered over a few others. degradation? group sex? objectification? you skipped them. not this time. you weren’t here to be humiliated — you were here to figure out why the hell your body kept locking up the second anyone touched you like they meant it.

step 3: why are you booking this appointment?

you had to type. no multiple choice. just a blank box waiting to be filled. your fingers hesitate above the keyboard. then you answered:

i’ve never had an orgasm. not from another person. not from myself. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but i’m tired of pretending. i’m tired of faking it. i want to know what it actually feels like. i want to stop being in my head. just for once. i want to let go.

you hit submit before you could overthink it.

step 4: choose your donor.

you clicked through the digital profile list, fingers hovering each name. each donor were vetted, trained, screened and certified in pleasure — not jut sex. these weren’t porn stars. these were licensed professionals. this was science, chemistry and understanding the human body and psyche. or whatever the website said to make you feel better about booking an appointment.

you hovered each name. a few looked promising. one had nice eyes. one had “mean” listed as a keyword. another had glowing reviews for how “slow and gentle” he was.

but then you saw him — mark lee. top donor. most requested. five-star average across every review. the testimonials read like something between a religious experience and the aftermath of a natural disaster.

“didn’t even know my body could do all of that, my god.”

“sweet, respectful, and somehow still completely ruined me.”

“made me orgasm like i’ve never orgasmed before”

and the most repeated one of all:

“i always book mark when he’s available, he knows exactly what to do. a guaranteed orgasm. every time.”

you didn’t even hesitate. you clicked BOOK NOW.

Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED

Donor: Mark Lee

Date of Consultation: July 29, 2025

you stared at your bedroom ceiling in the dark, heart pounding a little too fast. you didn’t know what to expect. you didn’t know what you’d feel. but for the first time in years, you felt hope. and maybe, if the reviews weren’t exaggerating, you were finally about to find out what it meant to feel like your body belonged to you.

✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚

you almost canceled. twice. was this morally questionable? maybe. was it completely insane? absolutely.

but you still showed up. your nerves were coiled so tight they felt like they’d snap with one wrong move. you’d picked out a simple outfit, nothing too suggestive, nothing too uptight. but still, as you sat in the pristine waiting lounge of the neo orgasm clinic, ankles crossed and fingers clenched around your bag strap, you felt entirely exposed.

everything about the clinic was calm, curated. the lighting was soft and golden, the walls a warm cream, subtle scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the space. the kind of place that looked more like a boutique spa than a place where orgasms were clinically achieved.

even the receptionist was beautiful. sharp suit, glossy hair, delicate bone structure. his name tag read taeyong. he smiled when you walked in like he already knew everything about you. probably because he did.

“first consultation?,” he asked, tilting his head with a practiced sort of empathy.

you nodded, “is it that obvious?”

he chuckled, “only a little,” he teased, “but don’t worry, everyone’s nervous at first.”

taeyong pulled up your file on his screen, “you’ll be with mark today. he’s just finishing up. shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

your heart stuttered at the sound of his name. somehow, it felt heavier now. every second you spend in this clinic feeling more real than ever. this wasn’t a fantasy. this wasn’t a dream bordering into a nightmare. this was real. you were going to meet him…anytime now.

taeyong slid a sleek tablet across the desk, “while you wait, kindly review your file, click agree if no changes need to be made. consent is required for everything.”

you nodded, accepting the tablet and settling back in your seat. you skimmed your file one last time then submitted the form. the screen thanked you and welcomed you officially to the program.

exactly five minutes later, the door on the left of the receptionist table, labeled private suites opened with a soft click. and there he was. the man in the website. the top donor. real human being — mark lee.

you blinked. it was like seeing someone you’d only ever imagined walk into reality — all soft black hair, warm eyes, and a smile that was…surprisingly shy for someone with reviews like his. he was dressed in a simple black slacks and a fitted charcoal blazer, sleeves pushed up to reveal veined forearms and a silver watch. professional, polished, but somehow still boyish. he was speaking with someone. a girl that looked around your age. who’d look like she had just had the best time of her life. then she headed to taeyong and mark turned his focus towards you.

“hey,” he said, walking towards you and offering his hand, “you must be, ms. y/n.” you nod, placing your hand in his. his grip was firm, professional, “i’m mark. come follow me,” he said, guiding you toward the doors on the other side of the receptionist table labeled, consultation rooms, “no pressure,” he adds, shooting you a smile, “just talking today.”

the room felt like a cozy therapist’s office. a plush sofa, a low coffee table, a few plants. no examination table. no cold metal instruments. just comfort. mark sat across from you, legs crossed casually, an open tablet in his lap. he offered you water, asked if you were comfortable, then smiled before getting started.

“alright, let’s talk about you,” he said, voice low and calm, “why you’re here. what you’re hoping to get out of this experience.”

you hesitated. you’re sure he already knows. already looked at your file. but still, saying it out loud felt impossible. the words were caught somewhere between your throat and your pride.

“you can open up to me,” he urges softly, patiently, calmly, “we’re both here for you.”

you nodded, finally finding your voice, “ive…never had an orgasm.” you exhaled, eyes lowering, “i’ve tried…a lot…it just….doesn’t happen.”

mark didn’t blink. didn’t smirk. didn’t do anything to make you feel small. instead, he nodded slowly, like he’d heard this before. like it was okay. like you weren’t a complete helpless case. like you weren’t broken.

“thank you for telling me that,” he said softly, “i know it’s not easy to admit out loud but i want you know something — there’s nothing wrong with you.”

you looked up at him, sighing, “feels like there is.”

“i know,” he nodded, “but trust me, there are a million reasons why achieving an orgasm can be difficult — physical, mental, emotional, trauma-related, hormonal, sometimes just bad luck with partners. but it’s not permanent. and it’s not your fault.”

that made you smile, barely, but it was there. he smiled back, warm and nonchalant, “so, you’re not broken. you’re just…unsolved. that’s where i come in.” you swallowed hard. the warmth behind this words caught you off guard.

he tapped a few notes on his tablet before setting it aside, “here’s how this works,” he said, “you set the pace. we take our time. always. you can stop me and say no anytime. nothing happens without your permission. and we don’t even have to do the session unless you’re completely ready.”

you nodded slowly, processing his words, “okay.”

mark studied you for a beat, “do you want to tell me anything else you might have forgotten on your file?”

you hesitated, thinking, “i think i just…want to stop thinking so much. i get in my head. i start worrying about how i look, how i sound, if i’m being too much or not enough. it’s hard to stay in the moment.”

he leaned back, thoughtful, “so your mind is the roadblock.” he smiled a little, “that’s more common than you think.”

“do you really have a 100% success rate?” you asked quietly.

that made him laugh – not loud, not cocky, just amused in a warm way.

“our stats don’t lie,” he smiles, “but it’s because i take my time, i listen, i pay attention,” his voice dipped, “pleasure isn’t a race to the finish line. it’s a process. one i’d be honored to help you through.”

you felt your cheeks flush. he noticed and softened his voice even more, “you don’t have to decide today but if you’re comfortable, i’d be happy to schedule your first session.”

your pulse quickened, “...yes,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, "i want to.”

his smile returned, warm and sincere, “good,” he said, tapping his screen, “i’ll have taeyong reach out to confirm your appointment date.” he stood up, offering his hand again, “thank you for choosing me.”

you took it and this time your grip was steady, “see you soon, mark.”

Neo Orgasm Clinic Appointment: CONFIRMED

Client: Y/N L/N

Donor: Mark Lee

Date of Session: August 2, 2025

✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚

you were early. too early. you sat in the same softly lit waiting room, knees bouncing, pulse in your throat. taeyong gave you a knowing smile as he gestured you towards the private suites door and the down the hallway.

“suite 8, he’s ready for you.”

the words made something twist low in your stomach as you walked towards the room. you entered slowly — suite 8 was nothing like you imagined. it wasn't clinical or sterile. it felt more like a luxury hotel room, quiet and warm, wrapped in soft ambient lighting. a large couch sat near the window. there was a bed. there were blankets, clean white sheets and a speaker humming low instrumental music. every detail was designed to ease tension, to invite softness.

you notice him adjusting something on the bedside table, a glass of water, a box of tissues, a towel. and then — mark turned.

“hey,” he said softly, “i’ve been waiting for you.”

he was dressed in black slacks, a black tie and black long sleeve button up, with the sleeves folded up his arms. hot but casual. the entire room, his casual demeanor, made it feel like you’re not at a clinic and just booked a dick appointment like it was a bumble date.

your lips curved, nerves still tangled in your chest, “i-i’m here.”

mark chuckled, not mockingly, but with that same warm, honeyed tone you remember, “you’re cute,” he said simply, “i like that you’re not pretending to be cool.”

you exhaled slowly, “i don’t think i could even if i tried.”

he stepped closer, slow and measured, giving you space with every move, “do you remember what i said during our last meet up?” he asked.

you note how he doesn’t use the word consultation, how he’s trying to make this all seem like it’s a normal hook-up and not a service.

“y-yeah. i’m in control. i can stop you. ask questions. say no.”

“good.” he murmured, his gaze searching yours for a moment longer, “but i’m going to be honest with you.”

his hand lifted, brushing his fingers down your jaw, slow and warm, “tonight, i am going to take control. you came here because your body hasn’t been shown how it deserves to be touched. and i don’t do halfway, sweetheart.”

you swallowed hard.

“so tell me,” he said, tipping your chin up with two fingers, gaze locked on yours, “can i touch you?”

you barely breathed, “yes.”

one of his hands travelled down your arm to your lower back, leaving behind trails of goosebumps in his wake.

“can i kiss you?” he said, eyes locked on yours. your breath caught. you nod.

he didn’t hesitate. mark grabbed your jaw and kissed you — hot, full, unrelenting. he kissed like he owned your mouth. his lips slanted over yours, opening you up, coaxing you open, tongue swept in with purpose — wet, confident, greedy.

you moaned into him, the sound swallowed as his tongue tangled with yours in filthy, practiced patterns. he tilted his head, deepened the angle, sucked softly at your bottom lip only to follow it up with another tongue-heavy kiss that made your spine arch. your hands clutched at his shirt on instinct, dizzy from the pace, the heat, the want.

you feel him smirk through the kiss as he kept going. his hands began to roam, starting at your waist, dragging up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt, just enough to make you gasp, then down again, gliding over your hips before settling on cupping your ass. his hands gripping tight and hot.

you squirmed, trying to shift closer but he held you steady. dominant. measured. not rushing but not enough to give you relief either. he guided you towards the couch, lips never leaving yours.

“sit.” he ordered, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. you obeyed without thinking. he kneeled between your legs, grabbing your thighs to pull you to the edge. the kiss resumed, but filthier this time, more desperate. he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to fuck your mouth with his tongue until you forgot what you’re here for.

“you taste so fucking sweet,” he growled, pausing to bite your bottom lip. slowly. sensually. “bet i’ll find out you taste even sweeter somewhere else.” you gasped, trembling. his fingers were already under your shirt, dragging it up inch by inch, “arms up, baby.”

you lifted your arms, dazed, his use of pet names making it feel way more romantic than it should. he carefully peeled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, hands immediately finding your bare skin, palms dragging up your ribs, thumbs brushing the peaks of your breasts through your bra. you leaned toward him instinctively and he chuckled.

“sensitive,” he muttered, “good. i want every part of you begging.” he kissed you again, harder this time, wet and open, lips slick with spit, you could hardly keep up. every kiss felt like it left you raw. ruined. but craving more.

his fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, then popped it open easily. he dragged the straps down your arms, slow and teasing, “you’ve been neglected long enough, haven’t you, pretty girl?” he said against your lips.

he trailed his mouth down your neck, sucking at the pulse point until you whined, then he licked lower, over your collarbones, between your breasts, circling your nipples with maddening slowness. his hands stayed firm on your thighs, squeezing, keeping you spread and trembling.

“i want you to stop waiting for an orgasm,” he murmured as he kissed lower, lips just above your waistband, “feel everything. the pressure. the tease. the ache.”

your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding his face on your nipple, “please—mark, i need—”

“i know what you need.” his voice was low, but firm. his mouth still latched one of your nipples, sucking harshly.

“you think you’re the first person to sit here and say they don’t know how to come?,” he laughed softly, switching to the other peak.

“you’re not broken, baby. you’re untouched. and i’m about to change that.”

he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear at once, and then he stopped, eyes locked on yours.

“you trust me to take care of you?”

“yes,” you whispered, breath hitching.

“say it louder.”

“yes—yes, i trust you.”

“good girl.”

he smirked, dragging everything down in one slow, smooth pull, baring you to the cool air. to his heated stare. his eyes darkened as he took you in, and he let out a soft groan, hand gripping your knees to push them open wider.

mark leaned back just though to take in the sight of you — completely undressed, legs parted, breath shaky, lips kiss-swollen, flushed and desperate, beneath the soft golden lighting of suite 8, vulnerable and exposed.

“fuck,” he breathed out, jaw tense, “you’re so pretty like this. spread out for me. waiting.”

you whimpered as his hands slid up your inner thighs, thumbs brushing too close to where you ached, then retreating again. and again. and again. his touch was everywhere except where you needed him most. the ache between your legs pulsed — soaked and neglected, your body betraying how ready it was.

but still, your mind wouldn’t shut up. wouldn’t let you stay there in it. what if i can’t? what if i freeze up? what if he thinks there’s something wrong with me?

and mark knew. he could see. hear it in your gasps, feel it in your tension. that’s why he smirked like that, cruel and knowing. like he was enjoying watching you unravel in slow motion, one nerve at a time.

“tell me how this feels,” he murmured, leaning forward to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone again.

“let me hear you.”

“i—” you gasped, jerking as his teeth grazed a nipple, then soothed it with a slick, wet lick, “it’s—it’s not enough—mark, please—” he hummed against your skin, lips warm as he kissed back up to your throat.

“good. that’s exactly where i want you. i don’t want you comfortable yet. i want you needy. desperate. begging me to touch this pretty pussy.”

and you were starting to be. you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a heartbeat thrumming at your core. still, mark didn’t touch you there. his hands continued their teasing path, caressing your hips, your stomach, your thighs. never slipping between.

his tongue pushed into your mouth again, curling with yours, fucking it slow. one hand tangled in your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss. his other hand slid down—finally, finally—settling just above your mound. the heel of his palm pressed just enough to tease the ache, and you whimpered, hips jerking upward like your body was pleading.

“already soaking, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, “and i haven’t even touched you properly.”

“please, please, i need—”

“no.” he cut in, voice sharp, dangerous. “i decide when you get that. you gave me your trust, baby. so let me show you what your body’s capable of when it’s not trying to hurry up and finish just to feel something.”

you whimpered quietly, looking at him with pleading eyes and only then did he let his fingers finally slip lower, gliding through the slick pooling between your legs. you gasped at the contact, but he didn’t go inside. just circled, rubbed, spread. over and over. maddening and slow.

“you’ve been chasing orgasms,” he muttered, placing a hot, wet kiss below your ear, “without knowing where they live.”

you moaned when he dragged his thumb over your clit, gentle at first, then firmer, enough to make you buck your hips. his mouth found yours again, kissing you harder now, every wet slide of his tongue mirrored the rhythm of his hand, slow, controlled, rubbing soft circles around your clit.

and you tried to stay in it, you really did. but before you could focus on the pleasure, your mind tensed again. breath caught. brain whirring. what if it’s not enough? what if i sound weird? what if i can’t let go?

your thighs started to close.

“no.” mark growled, his voice darker now. he shoved your legs apart again, pinning them open, “don’t hide. let me give you what you’ve never had.”

“i’m trying,” you choked, voice high and splintered, “but i-i dont know if i—what if i can’t–”

“it’s building up,” he grunted against your lips, “but you’re in your head. i can feel it”

and then, with no warning, he pushed one finger inside you. your back arched as your walls clamped around him, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.

“fuck—so tight,” he hissed, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he pushed deeper, curling slightly.

“you’ve been keeping this all to yourself, huh?” he pumped slow, shallow, his finger curling just enough to make your toes curl with it. then he added another. watching your face like a predator.

the moment your moan cracked through the air, high and broken, your eyes shot wide open, your hand clamping your own mouth, instinctive, terrified of the sound you made.

mark’s entire body tensed. he grabbed your wrist and yanked it down.

“don’t fucking do that.” his voice was rough. eyes wild. not with lust but with something more dangerous. hungry.

“up.” he ordered lowly, voice already thick with arousal. “on the couch. lay back.”

you blinked, dazed, “what—”

“now.”

the command in his tone made your stomach clench. you moved instinctively, letting him guide you, your bare back sticking slightly to the leather as you laid down. he helped spread your thighs wide over the edge. you were open now, fully exposed to him. he hovered above you.

then — he pulled his tie off in one swift motion. yanked it free from around his neck with a harsh flick. and before you could ask what he was doing he pinned your arms behind you and wrapped it tightly around your wrists, the silk biting softly into your skin.

he leaned over you, hot breath against your ear, “do you know what i do when pretty girls like you can’t let go?”

you shook your head, lips parted, eyes blown wide with lust.

“i don’t slow down,” he whispered, “i break them.”

then he looked down at you like a man starving. like a man about to feast.

“look at this,” he muttered, dragging two fingers through your folds again, lightly slapping your pussy, as he positioned himself between your cunt.

“so wet and ready,” he grunted against your aching core.

the first stroke of his tongue was slow. deliberate. — a warm, wet slide right up the length of your slit, ending with a soft suck to your clit that made your hips jump. you gasped, back arching.

mark groaned against you, “god, you taste unreal,” he growled, “i could stay here all night.”

and he meant it. he licked again, then again, tongue flattening against your core, teasing, tasting. his mouth was hot, his tongue devastating, alternating between slow strokes and precise flicks, sucking at your clit just enough to make your thighs tremble. his hands gripped your hips tight, holding you open as he buried his face deeper.

he was good. too good.

but still, that coil of pressure in your belly wasn’t catching. your breath hitched with every swirl of his tongue, but it didn’t crest. it didn’t tip. you kept chasing the edge but never quite reaching it. you couldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. what if this is it and i still don’t come? what if i’m the one person he gives up on? what if i disappoint him?

mark noticed it all. and he was tired of watching you get in your own way.

“i said i’d take my time with you.” he muttered, voice rough as knelt between your legs, towering over your exposed body, chest heaving slightly.

“but don’t mistake that for mercy.”

the kindness in his voice had cooled into something sharper, darker. still controlled. still careful. but this wasn’t the same soft-spoken man who asked if he could touch you. could kiss you. this was the version of him who knew exactly what you needed before you did. the one who didn’t need your trust. the one who commanded it.

you blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath. mark was already working on his shirt, buttons flicked open with practiced, irritated speed. like you being like this —trembling and touched and still not broken open, had finally pushed him past whatever professional restraint he’d been clinging to.

“you want to feel something real?” he asked, low and dark as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. his torso was lean, toned, strong, defined muscle under fair skin. veins prominent in his forearms, a shadow of control beneath the surface. you couldn’t stop staring, but he didn’t give you long.

“eyes on me.” he snapped. you flinched and obeyed instantly.

“good girl.” he muttered, already undoing his belt.

“you’re done overthinking tonight. you’re not here to analyze. you’re here to surrender.” he kicked his slacks off in one motion, dark briefs still clinging to his hips, already showing the outline of his cock pressing tight against the fabric. he moved between your legs again, now completely shirtless, he let you feel him. skin on skin. then, his hand came up to grip your jaw, not hard, just firm enough to make you feel it. to keep you grounded in his hold.

“i’m going to rewire that pretty little brain of yours,” he grunted.

“because clearly, your body’s ready but your head hasn’t shut the fuck up once since you got here.”

you whimpered, nodding under his grip.

“and when you come, it’s going to be because i made it happen.” he continued, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, “you’re not going to perform. you’re not going to fake. you’re going to fucking lose it. because i’m going to take it from you.”

then he was sinking to his knees again, this time bringing your legs up to your chest, holding you open like a meal he was ready to devour. the position was cruel. your hands tied behind your back was starting to hurt. but he didn’t care.

“no more playing nice.” he muttered. “you’ve had enough of that.”

and then—he ate.

there was nothing soft about it this time. his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the only thing that could save him. tongue flat and wide, licking deep and messy, then curling to flick at your clit with precision that made your hips jerk off the couch. you cried out but he only held you down harder.

“stay still.” he growled into your cunt, tongue never pausing, “i didn’t say you could run.”

you couldn’t push him away, the tie tight around your wrist. his grip on your thighs tightened. every stroke of his tongue was filthy, practiced, deliberate. he sucked your clit, then dragged his tongue lower, licking you open, tasting you with obscene, wet sounds that only made the pressure worse. hotter. deeper.

and still — you couldn’t let go. still, that voice in your head whispered too much. what if he’s doing all of this and i don’t come? i bet i look really weird right now. what if i’m really broken?

mark slammed his hand flat over your lower stomach, fingers splayed wide, his mouth unrelenting. and then he pulled back, just for a breath. just long enough to growl, “get out of your fucking head, baby. right now.”

his voice dropped.

“focus on what i’m doing to you.”

then he spit directly on your clit, letting it fall slowly, hot, messy, then immediately sucked you into his mouth like a punishment. it was so hot. a high pitched moan escaped your lips before you could even think about it. he hummed low like he knew it’d short-circuit your brain, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. his fingers slid back inside, fucking you now. harder, faster, rougher, thrusting with a rhythm of your unraveling.

“i don’t care how long it takes.” he snarled, breath hot against you.

“i’ll break you open and fuck the hesitation out of you.”

it was working. the fear was melting into heat. shame into friction. every thought replaced by the overwhelming sensation. you were teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar and terrifying. the pressure was unbearable, intense and unrelenting, like your body was being dragged past the edge whether it was ready or not.

mark didn’t stop. he pulled your clit between his lips again and again, flicking his tongue until you were gasping. curling his fingers over and over again.

“say it.” mark growled. “say you want to come.”

“i—fuck—i want to—mark—”

“louder.”

“i want to come! please—don’t stop—please—”

“come.” his voice demanded, vibrating against your skin. “let. me. have it.”

and then—you broke.

“oh my god—” the words tore out of you, breathless and wrecked, “f-fuck, don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

and he didn’t. your hips bucked against his mouth. the rest of the words dissolved into a sob from your throat so raw, so guttural, you hardly recognized the sound as your own. your back arched clean off the leather couch, hands gripping so tight hoping you could tether yourself to the moment as your body seized with sensation.

your orgasm didn’t rise like a tide — it detonated. it wrecked you open. no warning. just impact. a white-hot snap that split through you like a faultline finally giving way under years of pressure. it was too much. too big. too real. like something that had been lodged deep inside your chest your whole life had just ripped free — wild and screaming and glorious. years of silence and shame, of second-guessing and not-quite-getting-there, all flooding out at once.

your thighs clamped around his head, but mark didn’t flinch. he held you there, mouth relentless, fingers tight on your hip to anchor you through every tremor, every aftershock, as you writhed and whimpered and let the orgasm tear through your body. his tongue is merciless, unrelenting. mouth locked on you like he was dragging every last drop of that orgasm out of you until there was nothing left. until you were finally begging him to stop.

when he pulled back, his lips were slick. his face wrecked. his eyes triumphant.

mark licked his lips, “that,” he panted, “was one.”

you blinked at him, tears shining in your lashes, “i didn’t think i could…”

“you can,” he said firmly, brushing your hair back. “you did.”

then he untied your wrists slowly, carefully. but his voice stayed rough, “get on the bed.” he ordered.

“we’re not done.”

he gripped your thighs lifting you easily like you weighed nothing at all, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. a silent yelp slipped from your lips as he tossed you onto the bed with a bounce that knocked the breath from your lungs. the sheets were cool against your overheated skin, your body slack and spread open, chest rising and falling like you’d just survived something. or maybe like you were bracing for what was next.

mark’s lips found yours again, hot and claiming. his kiss wasn’t soft anymore — it was deep and consuming, all tongue and teeth and groaned hunger. he tasted like you. he traced a hand up your side, slow and steady, fingertips brushing every rib, every tremble. he was watching you like he didn’t want to miss a single twitch.

“you still with me?” he asked, voice rough around the edges now. lower. thicker. like he was barely holding himself back.

you nodded, dazed. “yeah. just…. holy shit.”

he smirked, “good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

you huffed a breathy laugh. “like… i didn’t even know i could come like that.”

mark’s thumb brushed the corner of your lips, dragging gently across your cheek. his eyes softened, but only for a second.

“that was just the beginning.”

then his expression darkened — not cruel, but hungry. that same deep hunger you’d caught glimpses of earlier, now unleashed. like something inside him had snapped loose the second you shattered and now he was free to do what he really wanted.

he sat back, eyes locked to yours and reached over to the nightstand. you watched as he tore open a foil packet with his teeth. condom. protection. professional. safe. but the way he rolled it on, slow, deliberate, cocky — made your mouth go dry.

your eyes dropped. you finally saw him. all of him. he was long. thick. the flushed tip already glistening with precum. your breath hitched.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmured, dragging his fingers between your folds again, making you jump, “you want more?”

your answer was instant, “yes. please.”

“you want to be fucked until you forget your own name?”

“yes, please—mark,” your hips bucked into his touch, already craving the stretch.

mark leaned down, mouth brushing your ear, his breath was hot.

“i’m going to fuck you now.”

the words made you clench. one hand guiding his cock to your entrance, the other gripped your hip with enough force to bruise.

“breathe,” he reminded, voice steady.

“and keep your legs open for me.”

you obeyed, trembling, aroused, needy. and then — he pushed in. just the tip at first. then inch by inch, he filled you. stretching you open, dragging slowly through your soaked heat, the pressure exquisite and unbearable. your eyes rolled back. your nails clawed into the sheets. when he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours, you couldn’t breathe.

“fuck,” you gasped, “oh my god—mark—” your hands came up to grip his hair.

you were so full. it felt like too much. he stilled there, letting you feel it, the stretch, the weight, the sheer intimacy of being filled by him.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched.

“you’re gonna hold on, baby? think you’re strong enough to fight me off again?”

and then he pulled out just enough to slam back in, you cried out. back arched. stars bursting behind your eyes.

he started thrusting — deep, sharp, claiming. again. again. setting a brutal rhythm, relentless and unforgiving, pounding into you with full, punishing strokes that rocked the entire bed. his grips on your hips was bruising. his pace was perfect, desperate, controlled, yielding. your moans were raw, punched out of you with every thrust. loud. real. unrestrained.

mark never looked away. watching every twitch of your body, every tremble, every cry of his name that tore from your lips like a prayer.

“you feel that?” he rasped. “your body is already giving in.”

you could barely speak. your second orgasm was building fast, sharp and electric, clawing up your spine as he adjusted his angle just enough to hit that spot, again and again, until you were falling apart beneath him.

“mark—fuck—i’m gonna—”

“come again.” he ordered, voice dark and breathless.

“come on my cock this time. prove to me you can do it.”

your mind shut off completely. no thoughts. no fear. just him. just the way his cock dragged inside you, hitting just right. his hand moved up your body, rough and reverent until his fingers brushed over your chest, teasing. and then his thumb rolled over your nipple. palm cupping your breast, kneading.

his other hand slipped under your back, lifting and forcing you to arch into him. he sucked one nipple into his mouth with a low groan that made your walls clamp around him hard.

you screamed. it was too good. his cock, his mouth, his hands — everywhere. his tongue bit your nipple and you sobbed, overwhelmed, drenched, utterly destroyed.

“you’re doing so good, you don’t have to think. i’ll do it for you.”

he dragged his teeth across your nipple again as his hips continued slamming into you, cock swelling inside you. then he brought his thumb in between your bodies, toying with your clit, rubbing harsh circles until your body couldn’t take it.

your second orgasm ripped through you. just eruption. you clutched his shoulders, mouth open, body convulsing against him as the climax burst out of you with a scream.

“good fucking girl,” he growled, hips not slowing.

“just like that. let it all go for me.”

you did. you had to. your thighs were trembling violently. your pussy clenched so tight around him you heard a curse tear from his throat. he didn’t stop. he rode it. let you sob and shake around him, fucking you through it.

his cock was pulsing and relentless, dragging wet and hot inside you as your cunt fluttered around him, overstimulated and soaked. you were beyond thought. your mind—completely gone. your body—his to command. he held your wrists down. you were a mess of tears and cries and raw nerve endings, and you loved it. you were addicted to the high. wanting every second to last longer.

“mark—please—don’t stop—”

“i’m not” he growled. “’i’m not stopping till your body forgets how to do anything but come.”

he pulled out for a quick second. hands gripping your waist hard before he suddenly flipped you onto your stomach. before you could even blink, he was dragging you up onto your knees, forcing your ass in the air, cheek pressed to the mattress.

“face down.” he growled, voice low, breathless, “ass up.”

you obeyed instantly, mind fogged and floating, body pliant and aching. you didn’t care anymore. you weren’t you anymore. you were his. bent to his will. so cock-drunk. your mind a blank page. he was rewriting your system with every thrust, every word, every sound he dragged out of you.

he shoved your knees apart with his thighs, rough hands spreading your cheeks, and then spat down, watching it drip between your folds. his cock nudged your entrance again, already slick from how soaked you were. you whimpered when he teased the head along your slit, grinding it against your oversensitive clit just to watch you shudder.

he leaned in close, voice a hot whisper against your ear, “gonna make up for all those years no one ever made you come,” he rasped, “every single time they fumbled and failed. this pussy’s never gonna remember that.”

and then—he slammed back into you. you screamed into the sheets. the new angle had him deeper, thicker somehow, hitting that spot so brutally your entire body jolted forward.

“mark—fuck—fuck—fuck!,” you moaned, biting down on the sheets, practically drooling.

he didn’t slow. didn’t pause. just gripped your hips and fucked you, hard and fast, his pelvis slapping against your ass with every thrust. the sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet, filthy, relentless.

“listen to that,” he rasped, voice wild now. “listen to what this pussy does for me.”

you couldn’t respond. couldn’t think. could only feel. the stretch felt sharper like this, more urgent. every stroke had you gasping, choking, keening into the mattress. and then—

slap!

you cried out when his palm landed hard on your ass. not cruel, just enough to make you jolt, to send that spike of heat ricocheting up your spine and straight down again, pulsing into your core.

“yeah,” mark breathed, voice cracked open with need, “you like that?”

you nodded, incoherent words slipping from your lips.

another slap! a little harder.

you sobbed, hips bucking back against him, desperate to meet every thrust.

“that’s it,” he growled, pounding into you harder now, the bed frame rocking under the force, “take it. take everything.”

and then his hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat, his hands wrapped around it. not tight enough to scare you. just tight enough to own you. your choked out moans filling the air. toes curling so hard you swore you’re about to get a cramp.

your third orgasm slammed into you out of nowhere. your body locked up and shattered around him, your cunt clenching so hard you saw white. he let you go as you screamed into the mattress, every nerve on fire, legs shaking violently as pleasure tore through you, raw and final and unrelenting.

— and still, he didn’t stop. mark held you steady as your body writhed, collapsing from the sheer force of your release, but he was relentless, “you don’t stop until i say you do.”

you whimpered something, his name, maybe, or just a breathless plea, but it didn’t matter. he fucked through your orgasm like a man possessed, chasing the aftershocks, turning them into something new. something sharper. overwhelming. your body trembled beneath him, hips twitching, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the sheets. your pussy clenched around him again and again, involuntary, helpless. every drag of his cock sent sparks skittering across your skin.

“you’re shaking.” he groaned, chest pressed to your back now, sweat-slick skin sticking to yours, “gonna make you fucking squirt, baby. i can feel it. you’re right there.”

“no—mark—too much, i can’t do that—,” you try to push him off. try to crawl away. but he was stronger. and he kept his cock pounding inside you.

“yes. you can.” his hand slid down, fingers seeking your clit, rubbing fast and brutal circles that had your legs kicking out, your voice catching in a strangled sob.

“i said face down. ass up.” he reminded you, voice dark and firm as he shoved your head back into the mattress, palm flat between your shoulder blades, keeping you there.

“be good. take it. this is what you came here for.”

the pressure was unbearable, his cock punishing inside you, fingers never letting up on your swollen clit. your mind blanked, eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time and then you reached a high you didn’t even think was humanly possible. something you only saw happen in porn.

a ragged, high-pitched cry tore out of you as your body convulsed, back arching violently before you collapsed into your fourth orgasm. the gush came, hot, wet, explosive. your cunt fluttered and sprayed around him, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as you squirted all over his cock, the sheets, the floor. you could barely process it. your brain had gone static. a glitching signal of pleasure.

“fucking amazing,” mark snarled, hips stuttering.

“that’s it. let it all go.” he pulled out just enough to watch you gush again before slamming back in. your whole body jerked like a live wire. you were sobbing now, overstimulated, wrecked, your hands had give up on clawing at the sheets for something to hold onto. there was nothing. nothing but him.

mark cursed, nearly losing his rhythm, “fucking hell—”

he didn’t stop. he kept pounding into your overstimulated cunt, watching your body convulse under him.

“gonna—fuck—i’m gonna come—” his pace stuttering for the first time, hips faltering mid-thrust. you could hear the unraveling in his breath, raw and uneven. his thrusts turned sloppy, deeper, harder. and then, with a strangled moan, he came. his hips slammed into you one last time, cock buried deep as he spilled into the condom with a guttural groan, body jerking with each pulse. he stayed there, breathing ragged, pressed tight against your back, his body shaking with the force of it.

for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the thunder of both your heartbeats. you were barely on your knees, cheek pressed to the sheets, body twitching faintly from aftershocks, cunt still fluttering around the softening length inside you.

mark let out a long breath, low, shaky. he leaned forward, his chest slick with sweat and your juices, smearing against the curve of your spine as he slowly eased down.

“you okay?” he murmured finally, voice hoarse, frayed around the edges.

you nodded, too blissed-out to form real words, “yeah. just… holy shit again.”

he chuckled weakly, wrapping his arms around your middle and gently easing you down onto the bed. his cock slipped out slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, already missing the fullness. a laugh slipped from your lips anyway, a disbelieving, breathy sound.

you couldn’t move. not in a bad way. more like your body had melted into the mattress, boneless and warm, every muscle humming with aftershocks. your mind was soft, quiet, the storm of thoughts you usually lived in was gone. for the first time in your life, there was peace, full-bodied, deep, radiating out from the very core of you. like something inside had finally clicked into place.

you’d come. you’d actually come. not faked it. not chased it just to please someone else. not brushed against it only to have it slip away. this time, it hit you full force. not once but four times.

the kind of orgasms that emptied you, pulled sobs from your throat and tears from your eyes and for once you hadn’t cared. you hadn’t flinched. you hadn’t shut down or shrunk into yourself, hadn’t tried to perform or hid or apologize. you’d felt it all.

and somewhere in the middle of all that, you’d actually squirted. your thighs had trembled, you’d felt yourself gush around him, soaking the sheets, your mind and body surrendering with no shame. no fear. no filter. you hadn’t know it could feel like that. like being cracked open and remade. like something holy. your cunt still fluttered with phantom pulses, like your body couldn’t quite believe it either. like it wasn’t ready to let go.

mark lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand already reaching for the warm towel he’d placed nearby. he flipped you over gently, his touch deliberate and slow. like he wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere but right here. he cleaned you up in silence. careful. focused. he dabbed between your legs with gentle, precise strokes, flinching every time you flinched. “sorry,” he muttered each time, almost apologetic.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked softly.

you nodded, a small smile on your lips, “better than okay…i feel like i just got reborn.”

that earned a real laugh from him this time, “that’s a new one,” he said with a shake of his head.

you stretched, wincing slightly, sore in all the right ways. everything throbbed but in a way that made you feel alive. present. you turned your head to look at him.

“that was… insane,” you murmured, “i mean, you literally had to destroy me to get me out of my own head.”

mark smiled, brushing hair from your damp forehead, “it wasn’t destruction. it was release. you just needed to shut this little guy off ,” he says, lightly tapping your temple, “and stop being scared to let your body feel.”

your throat tightened, not from embarrassment, but from the truth of it. because that’s exactly what it was. you’d let go. fully. completely.

mark grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand, twisted the cap and held it to your lips like it was instinct. “drink. you lost a lot of liquids back there.”

you giggled, then took a few sips, letting him wipe the corners of your mouth with his thumb afterward. it should’ve been awkward. but it wasn’t. it was safe.

eventually, mark rose from the bed and helped you sit up slowly, handing you your clothes one piece at a time. you slowly got dressed. you were glowing, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright. alive. awake. soft.

once you were both dressed, mark walked you back to the lounge of the clinic. the lighting had brightened slightly step by step—intentional, maybe, to ease clients back into the world gently.

“thanks,” you said as you walked side by side, your voice a little hoarse, but steady, “for the... comprehensive service.”

his mouth twitched, almost a smile, “neo orgasm clinic prides itself on thorough results.”

“oh, i noticed,” you deadpanned. “i think i saw god.”

mark let out a soft laugh, “i take it your file won’t need another ‘no prior orgasm’ flag.”

you rolled your eyes. “no, i think we can check that one off. multiple times, actually. all thanks to you.”

he cocked his head, the edge of a smirk playing on his lips, “you did the work.”

you snorted, “right. i was just lying there, crying and begging while you—never mind. forget it. you know what you did.”

“professionally, of course,” he said smoothly, “all part of the protocol.”

you looked him up and down, “if that was protocol, i’d hate to see what your personal life looks like.”

his smirk sharpened, almost imperceptibly, “you wouldn’t survive it.”

you raised a brow, “is that a challenge?”

his eyes glinted, “only if you book another appointment.”

you laughed then leaned in slightly, just enough for him to hear, “but seriously, you didn’t just make me orgasm. you made me feel like…like my body finally belongs to me.”

something flickered in his expression, not warmth, not empathy. just... acknowledgment. like a box being ticked. another line in the report. mark’s gaze held yours. there was no smugness, no pride. just warmth. steadiness — a donor who’d done exactly what he promised and only what you needed.

“thank you for trusting the process,” he said simply.

then, with a crooked grin, you added, “i should probably leave a tip. or at least a five-star review.”

he raised an eyebrow in amusement, “tips aren’t required. but reviews help with the rankings.”

“oh, i’ll be specific,” you said, walking toward the door leading to the lounge, “something like: ‘ruined me in under an hour. swore i saw heaven. would recommend.’”

mark tilted his head, quietly chuckling beside you. the door opened. you stepped inside and turned back toward him. “seriously though five star session.”

he nodded once, “glad we could meet your goals.”

you smirked, “gonna be hard to top this one.”

the corner of his mouth curled, sharp and knowing.

“book me again.” he said lowly, voice like velvet, “i’ll try.”

then, offering his hand once more, firm and polite, “it was a pleasure to be your donor, ms. y/n.”

you shook it, firm, “i’ll be your client any day.”

and with one last glance, one last smile, he turned back toward the double doors. and just like that it was over.

✚ END OF SESSION ✚

the door whispered shut behind him, soft and final. you stood in the lounge for a second longer than necessary, trying to get back into reality.

you were still warm. still sore. still…not quite in the world. your legs wobbled slightly, the plush carpet beneath your feet suddenly feeling too soft. too quiet. the silence here was different. this one was polished. the kind that came with good lighting and air purifiers and an undercurrent of expensive professionalism.

you approached the front desk slowly, finding taeyong already tapping away at his tablet, his perfect posture and gel-slicked hair still completely intact, like nothing behind those doors could ruffle him. he glanced up with the kind of smile that had been trained into perfection. not fake. just smooth. comforting. scripted.

“that’ll be charged to the card on file,” he said gently, voice soft enough not to jar you.

you nodded. your voice wasn’t ready yet.

“also, this is for you.” he reached beneath the desk and pulled out a matte black paper bag with subtle silver foil lettering that gleamed when it caught the light:

thank you for trusting neo orgasm clinic with your satisfaction.

you blinked. “what’s this?”

“a small thank-you from our donors,” he said, still smiling, still unbothered — as though this entire exchange was no more intimate than a routine dentist visit. like you weren’t just being fucked to your next life behind those doors.

you took the bag with both hands, still feeling like you were floating slightly outside yourself.

“have a good rest of your evening! we hope to see you again,” taeyong smiled from behind his computer.

you gave him a tired little smile, a soft wave and murmured a polite “thanks,” and turned toward the exit.

you made your way to your car, dropped into the driver’s seat, and opened the bag, curious to see what it holds — inside was a neatly folded hoodie, ultra-soft, white, with bold letters:

ORGASM DONOR

you stared. then snorted. a full bodied laugh punched out of your chest. it was dumb. it was ridiculous. it was perfect. tucked beside it, almost like an afterthought, was a juice box. your laugh came sharper this time.

you popped the straw in, took a long sip and leaned your head back against the seat. let the juice cool your tongue. let the moment wash over you and muttered to yourself, “best. fucking. clinic.”

you pulled your phone out. opened the clinic’s feedback portal. your fingers hovered for a second. then you typed:

released me from the shackles of my mind. came four times. even squirted. lost track of the tears. saw god. 10/10. highly recommend. would let mark destroy me again. professionally, of course.

somewhere behind those pristine white doors, donor mark was already reviewing his next file. another client. another list of goals. another carefully measured beginning.

✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚

—

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

BONUS: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5.

—

an: and the first donor is done! i hope this lived up to the expectation. if you hate it please don’t tell me lmao. this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! i hope you had fun reading it! please don’t take it too seriously :)

🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated

client tags: @alwayswonbinning @haechyuckan @neotannies @jaeminiwrld @taeeflwrr @kittydollzz @amazinggraxia @markleewatermelon @snwydoie @lvlyynim @neosteric @s4turdaydr1p @booskies @bananinhazz @hyucksaint @feet4liferss @mangoescrazy @jaejaezprincess @mokalattee @combinatoright-blog @stormy1408 @neonaby @zhangyixingxing1 @ni-ki-starnetwork @markiesfatbooty @luvjoongz @bbykaixx @lubunnii @ryuvrsie @hyuckluvr-com @37point5rated @snoopyana @britishvamps @sssaturn @serhser @flowerrpwrr @rex-ie @yutasputa69 @serpeverde005 @imsaltnt @imnotrosiee @leleszn @shiningnono @ant-onie @kakutoz @kiwichenji @ihatefrvits @haechanahceah67 @huffnpufffckk @nctdreamchaser @markiepoo4eva @neocockthotology @poutybzby @mackleroni @grimlinshere @mey-archive @su11yoon @n9vacane @hoonhyeonhae @crooked-haven @liaviva

#withthedonors #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee x you #mark lee x y/n #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #nct smut

756 notes · View notes

kamitv · 10 hours ago

Text

Nanami likes rubbing his thick drooling cockhead in between the syrupy slit of your cunt for what feels like forever before he slips inside you.

He’ll lazily drag his plump tip around your twitching clit in tantalizing lil’ circles and let out low curses in reaction to the way you drip all against him—making the filthiest mess on the bed. His steady hands would have the meanest grip on your thighs, keeping you spread nice and wide for him the entire time.

All he’s doing is rutting his hips back and forth and back and forth, watching his fat cock slide against your pussy over and over again. It’s almost more arousing than when he’s inside you.

Nanami loves the expression you make when he does this too. The way your brows twist up right as you grow impatient, the greedy hand you shot down to try and angle him into yourself, and the honeyed whines that exit your throat in such raw desperation.

Those fawn eyes of his would soften at the gorgeous sight of you below him and his cock would throb directly against your soaked folds.

Of course he wants to he inside you, he wants to make you feel good and listen to you moan his name all sweetly but… this—the heavy draggg of his cock all over that drooling hole of yours, the feeling of you lathering him up in aroused slick, and the mix of his precum all makes him dizzy with lust.

Eventually he’ll move one of his hands and wrap his fingers around his girthy base, tugging his cock a few centimeters up before slapping the weight of it back down against you and causing the nasty sound to flit into the air. Then he’d do it again.

And again, and again, and again until he can feel your leg twitching beneath his palm. “You want it, huhh?” Nanami would drawl out in that stupidly deep and lust-driven tone of his. “‘Want that cock deep inside you, sweet girl?” He’d slowly angle his tip against your hole but his hips are unmoving.

All you feel is the heat of his cockhead pressing against you, the thickness of it, the fucking throb. You can’t even manage out a reply before he’s just barely pushing into you.

Nanami always stretches you so steadily when he fucks you but, after making you wait for so long you can’t help but crave for him to just thrust every inch in at once. You want that rude stretch, that mean, unforgiving spread of your cunt around every pulsing vein of his cock.

Yet, being such a man of aggravating patience, Nanami pulls back just as quickly as he pushed in. You’re left whining without thought, “Kenn—“

“Hmm?” He’d cut you off in a way that lets you know he did that on purpose.

What a tease.

Then he’s pulling back a bit more and his hand starts moving up and down the length of his dick. You think you can feel a nasty trickle of drool slithering out from the corner of your lips as you watch him selfishly jerk off in front of you.

“Kento please,” You’d breathe out all over again, as if that would get you a different result.

It doesn’t. Instead, Nanami’s hand picks up and you watch his breathing grown heavier just as his eyes flick up to your face. Then he cocks his head to the side, “Tell me how you want it, love.” He’d request all of a sudden.

You’re confused and too horny to think so all you sputter out is an airy, “What?”

Nanami lets out a heavy pant and his lashes flutter a bit. “My cock. Tell me how you want it.” He repeats ever so sternly.

Defiantly, you fight back a groan before mumbling to him, “You know how I—“

“Easyy, sweetheart.” Nanami cuts you off in that cooing voice he knows you love.

His head weighs to the left a bit and you watch the way he brings his free hand up to your face. “Look at me,” He whispers, smiling once your eyes so politely meet his own. “There she is, there’s my gorgeous wife.” The praise, uttered so huskily that you’re left dazed beneath him. “Now, talk to me nice.”

With glossed eyes and a slight pout you can’t seem to control, “Ken,” You mewl, reaching your hand down as you desperately ache to feel him.

As if to taunt you, Nanami watches your hand move with a smirk on his face—his own hand tugging at his cock faster now.

He’s all breathy for a moment as he lets your hand wrap around him and pull him closer to you. “Hm? Is that it?” Your husband whispers, allowing himself to be guided back to your drooling cunt.

The second his fat tip slips against you again, he’s cursing under his breath and letting his hands go to the underside of your legs.

“Fuck.” Nanami breathes, “Is that how you want it?” Then he swats your hand out of the way and moves his own to your lower abdomen. “All that teasing’s got you desperate for it now, huh?”

You whine and he groans at the sound alone. God, you drove him insane. Just looking at you as you laid beneath him a complete desperate and aching mess would be enough to make him cum.

“Kento,” Your voice finally sounds a bit more steady now and you place your hand over his while sprawling your legs out all the more wider. “Just fuck me already.”

It’s rare but, your husband flashes this cocky expression before tilting his head, “And if I don’t?”

You can feel yourself soaking his tip even more from his taunting alone. Your brows tense and you’re whining all over again, “Please-,”

He cuts you off, “Mhmm, thaaaat’s it.” Nanami praises as he finally finally starts to push his hips forward, letting his cockhead slide right into you. “Beg for it.”

The hand you have on top of his claws at his skin and your hips lift in an attempt of getting him to push deeper, “Kento, fuck..”

“Beg for that cock, c’mon sweetheart.” He teases again, tugging his hips back as he then starts to fuck only his tip in and out of you. “It’s right there, don’t you want it?” He coos—mocking you now.

“Please,” You’re gasping once he lets himself get an inch in, “Shit, Kento please keep going.”

At that, he can’t help but push all the way in. Your husband could only deny you for so long before he was stretching you nice n’ wide for him, sliding every mean inch of his in until he could feel the bulge beneath his palm.

“Fuck.” He curses sharply, appling a bit a weight to his hand just so he can hear the way you moan out his name. “Look at that,” His hips draw back just barely before he thrusts in again, “Can you really feel me in there? Am I really that deep?”

Your eyes lull on back to your skull and now you’re holding onto his wrist as he works up a mean pace. Nanami hits the spot that’s got you drooling in seconds—fucking you exactly the way he’s learned how to.

It takes you a moment to reply to that question of his since you’re too busy moaning at how his filling you up but eventually you babble a cute, “Uhuh..”

To which a fucked-out smile spreads onto his face and his hand presses down harder “Yeahh? Then cum on it,” He instructs, his thrusts beginning to match pace with the not-so-distant knocking of the headboard against the wall.

He feels the way you’re squeezing around him and sees the utterly slutty expression you’ve got on so of course he encourages your orgasm when he begins to feel it.

“Mhmm, all over me, pretty.” He huffs, letting his hand slip just to rub that gorgeous clit of yours, “Just. Like. That.” He grunts between each pounding thrust of his.

You cry out as you make the sweetest mess around his cock and Nanami can’t help but let out a moan of his own. Watching you shiver through your very hard orgasm, he just has to lean down and press his lips to your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.” He whispers with a deeper and heavier roll of his hips as if to fuck you all the way through it.

567 notes · View notes

creamcut · 3 days ago

Text

gojo ensures he's always protecting his daughter

the night satoru put the stickers up, the room smelled like strawberries and clean laundry.

your daughter was three, giggling like her tiny body couldn’t hold all that joy, a wriggling blur of ruffled pajamas and hair still damp from her bath. your husband was grinning, precariously balanced on the little step stool, one eye squinted shut and tongue poking out in concentration as he smoothed another sticker into place.

“moon? check.”

“daddy, higher!” she chirped, pointing toward the ceiling’s corner.

“higher? baby, if i go any higher, i’ll stick myself to the ceiling.”

“then dooo it!”

you were lying on her bed, watching them with your cheek on your palm, basking in the glow of their laughter. he did it anyway, of course. he reached just a bit more, because she asked him to. when he was finally done, he turned off the lights dramatically and the ceiling came alive — soft and glowing, tiny constellations in messy patterns only a child and her father could find meaning in.

she gasped. “the stars came!”

“they always do,” he murmured, settling down beside her on the tiny bed, long limbs curled and folded like he was made to fit there. “but remember what i told you?”

she nodded, whispering it, “i’m your moon and sun and stars.”

you smiled, tugging the blanket over her little shoulders. he reached over her to touch your hand. “and you,” he said to you, eyes gleaming in the dark, “you gave me the whole universe.”

the ceiling never changed, even when the rest of the house did.

bookshelves replaced toys. posters replaced finger paintings. she grew taller, her giggles deeper, her footsteps heavier.

but the stars stayed.

you caught her once, at seventeen, lying in bed after a long day, face turned up. her eyes were rimmed red from a silent cry she thought you hadn’t noticed.

“can’t sleep?” you asked gently. she shrugged, then whispered, “i miss him.”

“me too.”

she looked up again. “sometimes i feel stupid. it’s been so long.”

“grief doesn’t know clocks,” you said. “and neither does love.”

she nodded, blinking up at the ceiling. “they’re starting to peel off.”

you looked too. some corners were curled now, soft from time and heat. one star had completely fallen, tucked somewhere behind the headboard maybe.

“we could take them down,” you offered. “or put new ones up.”

she was quiet for a while.

“no,” she finally said. “i like the old ones. he touched these.”

on the night she graduates college, you find her in her old room, just for a moment, dress still on and heels in her hand. she’s looking up. the stickers are faded now, barely holding on, only glowing if you really let your eyes adjust.

“you okay?” you ask from the doorway.

“yeah,” she says, smiling faintly. “just… he would’ve clapped the loudest today.”

you walk over, place your hand over hers. “he would’ve lost his damn mind,” you say, laughing through the ache. “probably yelled your name way too loud, embarrassed both of us.”

“he would’ve stood on the chair.”

“and made everyone look at you.”

you both laugh, then fall quiet, eyes tracing old constellations on a familiar ceiling.

“he never took them down,” she murmurs.

“no,” you say. “because love like his… it stays.”

and so do the stars. even if they fade. even if they fall.

he made sure of it.

518 notes · View notes

stargazsblog · 1 day ago

Text

I CAN SEE YOU ──꒰✉️꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ clark kent x fem!reader

꣑ৎ you and clark have been secretly dating for three months. no touching, barley talking at work. so why does it feel like everyone knows?

꣑ৎ now playing - i can see you by taylor swift

tag/warnings: fluff, swearing, making out

note: KITCHEN SCENE!!!!! i know i am a little late on this but i just watched superman a week ago and oh my god i love it sm

Working with Clark is probably the most stressful thing ever. Not because he’s difficult—he’s actually the sweetest person in the office. Always kind, always helpful, always handsome.

Which makes it even worse.

Because you’re dating him. Secretly.

And if you told anyone that, no one would believe you. You two barely even look at each other during work hours. He treats you like any other coworker—polite, distant, professional. And you’ve gotten pretty good at pretending you don’t stare every time he rolls up his sleeves or adjusts his glasses.

But now? Now it’s been three months. Three months of pretending you don’t notice him when he walks past your desk with his tie slightly loosened and a coffee in each hand—only placing one on Lois’s desk.

Three months of pretending you’re not dating the guy who texts you goodnight with terrible emojis and kisses your forehead like he’s scared he’ll break you.

And somehow, it still feels like everyone knows.

Maybe it’s the way Jimmy gives you a look every time Clark walks by. Or how Lois asked—very casually—if there’s someone special in your life. Or how Clark, bless him, keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks no one’s looking.

Working with Clark Kent is exhausting.

You don’t see Clark, but you know he’s late. Again.

You’re standing by the printer near his desk, waiting for your files to finish printing. It’s the closest you’ve been to his chair all week, and it still feels too close. He’s usually already here by now—tie straight, glasses slightly fogged from the rush in. But today, his desk is empty.

Or… it was.

While you’re focused on the machine slowly spitting out paper, you don’t notice him quietly slipping in behind you. You only hear the sound of his bag hitting the floor.

“So this guy flew into Midtown and started attacking people, demanding Superman show up?” Lois says, her voice sharp and curious.

You freeze, your hand hovering over the warm stack of papers. You don’t turn around. You can’t. You already know exactly what they’re talking about. Clark had come to you right after—scuffed up, hair messy, eyes tired. He held you for a long time and whispered, “I’m okay.”

Now he’s here, in clean clothes and calm glasses, like none of it happened.

“Yeah,” Clark replies easily. “It’s all there in my article.”

You can’t help it—your lips twitch into a small smile. His voice is warm, smooth, and steady. Totally unbothered. Like he hadn’t just saved the world again.

You force your attention back to your papers, trying to ignore the twist of jealousy in your stomach. Lois is always talking to him. Laughing with him. She has no idea.

You’ve just collected the last page when you hear someone call your name.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn instinctively—and freeze.

Jimmy’s smiling at you from across the room. So is Lois. And so is Clark.

All three of them are watching you, but it’s Clark’s eyes you notice first. There’s a flicker of something behind his glasses. That soft, familiar look he gives you when no one else is around. The one that says, I see you.

You swallow hard, cheeks warming. You pray no one notices.

“Uh—yeah?” you say, pretending like your heart isn’t racing.

Jimmy grins and waves you over. “We were just talking about the Superman situation. You saw it, right?”

You nod slowly, trying not to look at Clark. “Yeah. I saw some stuff online this morning.”

“Total chaos,” Lois adds, crossing her arms. “Guy shows up out of nowhere, starts attacking people.”

Jimmy leans forward, eyes lighting up. “So what do you think of him, Y/N? Superman, I mean.”

Your brain short-circuits. You know they’re just making conversation, but suddenly it feels like the room is too bright, too quiet, like Clark’s staring straight through you.

What do you think of Superman?

You think he’s brave. You think he’s gentle. You think he makes you pancakes at 2 a.m. and wraps you in his arms like you’re the most important person in the universe.

But you can’t say any of that.

So you shrug, and hope your smile doesn’t look as nervous as it feels.

“I mean, he’s cool. I guess?” you say, casually, maybe too casually.

Clark lets out a soft chuckle behind you. Just one little laugh—but you hear it loud and clear.

“Just cool?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this.

You blink, flustered. “I mean—do you want me to stand here and praise him for what he does?” you say, half-laughing. “He’s Superman. He’s already got enough fan clubs.”

Lois smirks. “So you’re not a fan?”

“I didn’t say that!” you rush to add. “I just—he’s fine. He does good things. Very… heroic.”

You feel Clark’s eyes on you. You know he’s trying not to smile.

Jimmy grins like he’s cracked some secret code. “You’re totally hiding a crush.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No. Nope. Not at all.”

“Okay, okay,” Lois says, waving it off, “let her live. We’ve all got our opinions.”

You mutter something about needing to get back to work and shuffle away, heat blooming across your cheeks. You don’t dare look at Clark as you pass him—but he leans in just slightly as you go by and murmurs, barely audible:

“Just cool, huh?”

You don’t even look at him. But your smile gives you away.

Your hair’s a mess, your shirt’s half-unbuttoned, and your bag is slipping off your arm. You don’t even bother turning on the lights as you shut the door behind you with your foot and toss your keys somewhere near the counter.

You drag yourself into the kitchen, already reaching for the fridge.

You let out a loud scream.

“Holy shit, Clark!”

Because there he is. In your kitchen. Like it’s totally normal. Shirt sleeves rolled up, glasses off, standing barefoot in front of the stove like he hasn’t just scared ten years off your life.

He glances over his shoulder, completely calm. “Hey.”

“Babe, next time text me you’re coming,” you say, hand still pressed to your chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he turns off the stove and walks toward you, warm and soft in every movement. “I just know how stressed you’ve been lately, so I wanted to make your favorite—breakfast for dinner.”

You set your bag down and walk toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s your favorite,” you reply.

He grins, dimples and all—those dimples.

“No… last time I checked, you love breakfast for dinner,” he teases, slipping his arms around your waist.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders with a quiet laugh. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re adorable,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you, soft and slow like he has all the time in the world.

Then, without warning, he picks you up effortlessly and sets you on the kitchen counter. You squeak a little, grinning against his lips.

“I thought you were tired,” he says, voice low and amused.

“I was. Then you showed up looking like this,” you tease, tugging playfully at his rolled sleeves.

Clark lets out a hum and starts kissing your neck, slow and deliberate, like he has nowhere else to be but here with you.

“You know,” he whispers between kisses, his lips brushing just under your jaw, “I think we’re doing pretty good at hiding our relationship.”

“You think?” you breathe out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Pretty sure your friends have been looking at me weird.”

He smiles against your skin. “Let them look.”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming your waist. “They don’t know anything.”

You tilt your head back slightly, giving him more access, your voice barely a whisper. “They know something.”

Clark pulls back just enough to meet your eyes—dark, soft, and burning with something heavy. “Do you want to stop?”

Your pulse stutters. “No.”

His mouth meets yours, deeper this time, and when he lifts you off the counter and starts walking you toward the bedroom, you forget about Jimmy, Lois,—everything except him.

The newsroom hums with the usual clatter — phones ringing, typing, someone arguing near the printers. You step off the elevator, pretending like everything’s normal. Like you didn’t spend the night in Clark’s arms. Like your shirt doesn’t still smell faintly like his cologne.

Clark walks in behind you, a minute later. Casual. Professional. His tie’s slightly crooked.

You brush past each other in the hallway. Barely. Not even enough for anyone to notice—

Except Jimmy.

Jimmy, sitting at his desk with a half-eaten bagel, tracks the interaction like he’s watching a spy movie. His eyes squint. He leans over toward Lois, lowering his voice like he’s about to break the biggest story of the year.

“How long have they been dating?” he asks.

Lois doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even glance away from her computer.

“Three months.”

Jimmy chokes on his bite. “Wait, what?! You knew?!”

Lois finally looks up, unimpressed. “Jimmy. Please. Clark literally smiles now. He’s writing down his so-called funny jokes and he’s wearing cologne. You think he does that for himself?”

Jimmy blinks, stunned. “I thought he was just… glowing.”

Lois rolls her eyes and goes back to typing. “He’s in love, not radioactive.”

#clark kent #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent x reader #clark kent x reader fluff #clark kent x yn #clark kent x you #superman #superman x reader #clark kent fluff #david!clark kent #david!clark kent x reader #david corenswet #david corenswet x reader #secret relationships #superman fluff #fluff

695 notes · View notes

millers-angel · 17 hours ago

Text

single dad!joel miller x babysitter!reader

♡ summary: single dad joel hires a babysitter who takes care of sarah a little too good, but she can take care of him too, in a different way. ୨୧ cw: soft joel (with sarah), smut, unprotected sex, size difference, creampie (reader is not on birthcontrol) ୨୧ wc: 7.6k

"you made it on time," he said as he opened the door.

joel looked... tired.

the man standing in front of you was taller, broad shoulders, big arms, big hands too, but his eyes seemed tired, his hair was a little messy, maybe he’d run a hand through it too many times.

you'd seen him before, but just in pictures... seeing him in person was totally different. it felt intimidating even, if it wasn't for how tired he look.

"come on," he said stepping aside so you could step in.

you nodded, a little nervous at first, but tried to hide it with a smile. the house smelled like baby cologne and milk, the first thing you noticed was all the toys scattered in the living room, a folded-up stroller against the wall.

everything was pretty messy, and so was he.

then you spotted her, a baby girl, barely two, sitting on the couch, holding a stuffed bear and something that made you laugh a bit, sarah had joel’s oversized contractor helmet on her head, covering half of her face.

joel followed your gaze and sighed. "oh, darlin’," he mumbled but he couldn't help to smile at the sight. sarah loves his helmets.

he walked to her and lifted her gently to put her against his hip, taking the helmet off her head. sarah squealed and lifted her arms to reach the helmet again.

"daa," she babbled, clearly demanding joel the helmet back.

joel looked around, as if trying to find something and then he spotted it, crouched to pick it up, between the blocks and stuffed animals was her own tiny plastic toy helmet, the one that actually fits her.

"this is the one, baby girl," he said putting the helmet on her head.

sarah squealed again, kicking her little feet while he held her. joel seemed all serious and intimidating, but with sarah... he softened every part of him, you could see it, as tired as he looks, he tries his best with her.

"well, this is sarah," he said adjusting her.

"hey, sarah," you said making a face and waving your hand to her, getting a giggle from her side.

joel smiled too, "first of all, thanks for coming," he started. "i'm joel miller, uh," he rubbed his eyes with his fingers, cleary exhausted. he cleared his throat, "just… lettin’ you know, sometimes my shifts run long. that okay? i’ll always pay extra, but—"

"it's okay with me, mr. miller," you shrugged. "it's my job for now."

he took a deep breath. "thanks, i'd really like this to be a full-time job, if that's okay with you?" you nodded. "and as i said, sometimes i gotta stay longer at work, but of course i pay for your time."

"that’s fine," you said shrugging. "really, don’t worry about it. i need the money anyway."

"i’m sorry if i sound pushy. it’s just—" he exhaled. "you’re the fifth sitter this month. i’ve been havin’ trouble at work ‘cause… i can’t leave sarah alone, and it’s complicated."

your heart sank, cause he do looks exhausted. "you don’t need to explain. i get it... but if you want me to sign a paper letting you know i won't quit, that's okay." you joked a bit, trying to make things lighter.

but joel didn't laugh, he lowkey felt ashamed, maybe he's being too paranoid. "sorry. don’t mean to come off paranoid or annoying."

"no, you’re not," you said gently. "you’re just worried about her. that makes sense."

he took a deep breath again, while sarah just look to the both of you, blinking, trying to understand maybe. "alright," he looked around. "so, there's food in the kitchen, take anything you want," he nodded. "but if you feel like eating something else, i left cash on the counter."

you nodded. "thanks," you looked at her now. "what about sarah? what does she eat?"

joel looked at sarah, smiling this time. "she likes applesauce, nuggets, mashed potatoes, you know? a bit of everything, though she prefers fruit than vegetables," he rolled his eyes to her, playfully. "but she needs to eat vegetables anyway. and before sleeping, she likes warm milk. she's got her special cup for that, is the one with—"

"bunnies!" sarah squealed. of course she probably had no idea what he was talking about, she just picked on the keywords.

it made you smile. "noted, boss."

"she loves bunnies and cats," he said softly. "she’s a calm baby, but she gets... upset if she doensn't sleep."

"sounds like most of us," you agreed.

he laughed, softening his face, and god, you really, really liked this messy look on him, on his smile. he's really dedicated to her, to sarah, he's there for her, he worries about her, he cares about her, as tired as he is, he don't mind as long as sarah is okay.

then, he looked at the watch on his hand and clicked his tongue. "i'm late, gotta go."

you nodded and reached out for sarah from his arms. she surprisingly, came up with you almost immediately. joel went and grabbed a few things he needed, yes, the helmet included.

he walked to you, to sarah, crouching to her level. "i'll be right back, baby girl."

"dada," she said with her tiny hands over his face.

he kissed her cheek. "i love you. be good for me, yeah?"

sarah babbled something in response, then giggled. her little arms wrapping around his neck before he put her back next to you.

then, joel cleared his throat. "anything happens, anything at all, you call me, or text. i'll answer."

"i will," you nodded, adjusting sarah against your hip. "i'll send pictures of her so you'll be aware she's fine."

joel chuckled. "okay, that sounds more than fine."

he gave one last look at the both of you, softer than he probably meant to let show. "thanks. i’ll be back in a couple hours."

and he left. just you and sarah now. she looked at you with those big curious eyes and tucked her face on your shoulder, probably feeling the absence of her daddy. but you won't let her down on this.

joel didn't come back 'in a couple of hours' that day, of course he didn't. but it was okay, you kept sarah busy, playing, watching tv when it was the right time, coloring—or trying to because sarah just made a mess with the already broken crayons. you'd feed her what she liked, even veggies, but in a fun way, so she wouldn't make a fuss. she took her afternoon nap just as joel said she would. and when it was night, you'd given her the warm milk before sleeping, in her sippy cup with the bunnies, her favorite. the baby fell asleep right there nestled on your ribcage. you'd look at her and felt proud, because you did something right.

from that day on, you were there almost every day. sometimes even on weekends. you took sarah to the park, she enjoyed the swings, she also enjoyed playing on the tiny animals—the ones where toddlers can get up, nothing too high or dangerous, not at all. you sent pictures to joel pretty often, of what sarah was doing, just routine, just to show him she was fine and safe. he just answered with 'thank you', or a thumbs-up emoji.

joel even brought home a small inflatable pool for sarah, for those hot days. sarah was happier than ever splashing in the water, squealing and you sent pictures to joel of her enjoying her pool while he was probably breaking his back at work, but it was all worth it, for her.

you never went back on your word, didn’t quit like the others. you had no plans to. sarah was too sweet. of course, she had her moments, tears when she was tired, little tantrums when she didn’t get what she wanted. but you were always patient with her, you knew she was just a little one. if anything, you both learned each other. she was actually excited when she saw you at the door, toddling fast to wrap your legs and demanded to be held.

and she was learning too, sarah was more talkative everyday, picking new words from you.

sarah adored you. and you adored her back.

however, you’ve noticed a few things. sarah’s mom is not in her life at all, it’s just her and joel and of course it makes you wonder what happened. the man doesn’t have pictures of her with anyone but sarah and his brother, you guess it is because of the similarities on their faces. but not a single trace of a woman. it makes you feel bad for him, because he’s all alone, working all the time, barely has time to breathe and yet he manages to be a great father for sarah.

but it’s sad, though.

you wonder if he still sees someone or maybe keeps in contact with sarah’s mom on the days you’re not there.

joel is not a man of much words. he keeps it simple, always respectful, and being honest, he always looks tired. and now, so are you.

sometimes, he finds you sleeping on the couch when it’s too late at night. you’re all curled up, peacefully sleeping near the monitor in case sarah wakes up. he felt awful, knowing you'd taken care of his little girl and the couch wasn't a place to sleep. he crouched to your level before gently calling your name.

you barely moved. "hey," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed, still dazed, then you saw him. "oh, jesus," you blinked and rubbed your eyes. "i'm sorry, mr. miller."

"not at all," he said gently. "next time if you're tired, you can go in my bedroom. the bed is big and comfortable."

you shook your head. "no, mr. miller, i’m fine here."

"please," he insisted.

"i’d feel bad, knowing you’re letting me take your bed while you’re at work."

"and i'd feel bad knowing you're sleeping on this couch when my bedroom is empty upstairs," that made you both chuckle. "please, do it. i mean it."

from that day on, if you got too sleepy, you’d go into joel’s room. at first, it felt awkward, cause as nice as he is, he is still your boss. but you did it anyways. the first time in his room, it was... something. it was all messy, the unmade bed, clothes scattered all over the place, his boots from work, helmets, tools, but also framed pictures of sarah, alongside half-empty water bottles and a small bottle of anxiety medication. you felt bad for him.

there wasn’t a trace of sarah’s mother anywhere.

but you started making his bed, cleaning his place, keeping it nice for him. you knew it wasn't part of your job, but honestly, you didn't mind at all. he pays you well, he doesn't give you a hard time, and of course, if you can help him, you will. cause you know he works hard for his girl, and now you know he deals with more things. the man needs to breathe.

and you're giving him that. he's not blind, he's noticed everything you've done for him, for the house. and despite his words that you really don't need to be doing this, you didn't stop. now, joel has more time to separate his work from his personal life. now he's got more time to sleep.

one night even, joel when joel came home from work, he got a surprise in his room. not only you, but you and sarah, both girls sleeping comfortably on his bed. the little one was tucked on your ribcage, holding to your shirt, and you had her wrapped on your arms, and on his night table, sarah's sippy cup. that put a smile on his face.

you were so patient with her, so gentle. he’d lost count of how many times sarah lit up just hearing your voice.

he didn’t want to wake either of you. he wouldn't and he never does even when it's just you. so he just made his way to the couch.

it wasn’t the only time he found you there.

the night he stepped in his room just to find you lying there, your skirt had ridden up enough. enough to let him see what you had underneath. your panties. soft pink lace panties. he wasn’t a pervert, and god, he respected you. but he was still a man. and right now, all he could see was your butt, your panties, your thighs, he could see you all.

joel wasn't blind. he's aware of what he has in front of him lying on his bed. a beautiful, young girl which butt is perfectly made for his hands to squeeze. he shook his head at the thought. you're just so good with sarah, so good with him, so kind and sweet, always wearing those shorts, these skirts, of course you're unaware of the effect you had on people.

and being honest, joel has had no time for women. always filled up with work, with sarah, until you came. of course this is a job, but still, you're more good than just being sarah's sitter. you're good with him too. and that's why this hits him harder. cause you're too good, in every sense of the word. and now, seeing the soft piece of fabric covering your tiny slit, that made him grow hard inside his pants.

he almost groaned, cause he knows this ain't right. seeing you with these eyes, thinking of you in that way. but he couldn't help to stare and feel himself grow harder to the view.

he didn't do anything about it. he just let you sleep like he always does.

but he wasn't the only one. it happened the other way around too. one night, you'd woken up on his bed, but heard the sound of the tv, it was very low, but you knew he was home then.

still sleepy, you made your way downstairs and the view made your jaw drop a little. joel just came out from the shower, his hair was damp, and so was his body, god, he just had the damn towel around his hips, and without even wanting to, you could... you could see the shape of his dick because of how tight the towel was.

you trailed him all, his broad shoulders, his chest, how hairy he was, had salt and pepper all over his stomach, and even on that trail that leaded to the part that left nothing to the imagination.

you swallowed, getting all flushed at your own thoughts. but god, you needed him, you needed to see him. you know it’s not ethical maybe, cause at the end of the day, he’s still your boss but… you’re too weak when it comes to him.

he could see how nervous you were and it was really sweet. "i’m sorry, didn’t want to wake you up."

you shook your head. "i’m okay," you said forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "i—i, sarah is sleeping, she um—today she ate those bunny-shaped cookies she likes."

joel chuckled. "i think she’s running out of those," he clicked his tongue. "gotta go for more."

you then, spotted bruises, scratches, some worse than others, but pretty much bad anyways. the scratch on the side of his belly was almost bleeding again, so you asked him, "what happened?"

he looked down to it. "work stuff," he sighed. "gotta check that later."

"mr. miller, that seems pretty bad, it can get infected. i think you have something in your room, i saw it."

he nodded. "better do something about it, huh?"

"i can help you with it, if you want." it was genuine, because honestly, it looked pretty bad and as sure as you are this isn't the first time, you want to do it, because you know it must hurt doing it all by himself.

"i don't want to keep you longer than necessary."

"you're not."

he adjusted the towel around his hip. "alright."

then, he guided you back to his room, closing the door. "just lay down," you said softly.

and he did. you went to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer and finding a small kit inside.

he chuckled behind you.

"sorry if that’s intrusive," you said quickly, glancing over your shoulder. "i just… remember to have put it in that drawer the other day."

"you’re really kind, but you don’t have to do that," he replied.

"i don’t mind," you said simply, pulling out the ointment and a roll of gauze. when you turned to face him again, he was watching you, almost eager for you to bent down and heal him.

he seemed so vulnerable there, lying, all injured, bruised and that cut almost bleeding. you swallowed once your eyes found the prominent bulge now the towel is completely settled over him. you had to look somewhere else almost immediately.

you knelt beside the bed, uncapping the ointment and gently applying it over the cut. joel flinched just a little.

"sorry," you murmured, glancing up at him quickly.

"is there anything you can’t do? you seem to do just about everything."

you chuckled softly. "if you want, or if you’re hungry, i could make you dinner."

"no," he said shaking his head, "and i’m serious when i tell you, you don’t have to clean my room, that's not your job."

you shrugged. "i don't mind," you looked up at him. "if i don't do it no one will."

"i’ll get to it when i have time."

you gave him a look. "when you have time, you sleep."

you made him chuckle out loud.

"you’re a good boss," you said with a smile. "i’ve got no complaints, you pay me well, and it’s the least i can do."

"boss, huh? makes me feel older than i am."

you shrugged. "that’s not a bad thing,” you said, and it came out with a different tone that you intended, and after that, either of you said a word.

you kept going, though. until he was patched, until you were sure his cut wasn't going to keep bleeding, and joel followed the movements of your soft hands in every second.

"thanks," he said.

you gave a small smile. "does it hurt a lot still?"

before he could answer, your fingers drifted over his belly, tracing around the part you just healed. maybe it was too low, or maybe was your touch, but you made him hiss, you were too soft, your hands, your touch.

"sorry," you said quickly. "i didn't know it hurt that much."

joel’s mouth curved, and shook his head. "it's fine."

he shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed, and it was for the worst—for his mind. you were sitting on your knees, looking up to him, and he could only see those pleading eyes. it made him weak. his mind was playing him dirty, thinking about you in this exact same position but doing something else. maybe having something his in that pretty mouth of yours.

but of course, nothing happened.

it was a saturday, but you got ready for work, thinking that joel was supposed to go on the afternoon, so you made your way to his house, knocking on the door once you got there.

he opened the door, but didn't see like he was going to work, he was all messy. "hey… what are you doin’ here?"

you tilted your head. "uh… i thought i was working today?"

before he could answer, you heard someone squealing and running to your way. sarah. she wrapped her little arms around your legs, already handing you her dolls.

joel stepped closer. "today’s my day off. i texted you this morning."

you frowned. "i didn’t get any message."

he frowned too, but before either of you could say something, sarah made a grumble, pulling on your hand, demanding your attention.

"baby," joel crouched down beside her, "she gotta rest today." he tried to pull her gently away, but sarah didn't let go off you, her eyes filling with tears.

you laughed softly, smoothing a hand over her hair. "it’s okay, i’m here."

joel exhaled, clearly defeated, and you heard sarah try to form the word 'play,' her voice breaking while tears ran down her cheeks. your heart melted.

"alright," you said gently, "let’s play a little."

you stepped inside, and joel followed, still trying to explain to his daughter that today she was supposed to be with him only. but sarah’s cries just made it worse hearing that, so you followed, "really, it’s fine."

he rubbed the back of his neck. "you got somethin’ to do today?"

you shook your head.

"then why don’t we go out and get somethin’ to eat?"

you started to protest. "you don’t have to—"

"i mean it," he said quickly. "not for you to watch her. just… take you both out for a bit."

you couldn’t help smiling. and then looked at the little one's teary face, you couldn't say no to this. "alright."

joel packed a small bag for sarah, extra clothes, wipes, her sippy cup, snacks, and the moment she saw him zipping it up, she squealed, knowing he does that cause she's going out. after packing her things, joel sat on the couch with her on his lap to do her hair into two pigtails. you just watched the wholesome scene, his big calloused hands working gentle on his daughter's hair.

"you ready?" he asked.

you nodded, and he guided you outside, holding the door open and walking you to his truck. he opened the door of his truck for you, like gentleman, and then moved to the back door to put sarah on her seat, double-checking the straps.

you waited while he get inside, glancing around, small toys scattered in the back, and a few work tools resting on the floor. it felt… very much like him.

it ended up being a really good afternoon. sarah was all giggles, sitting in her booster seat between the two of you, swinging her little feet under the table. she ate everything on her plate, even the vegetables he put from his plate to hers.

when the waiter came back to clear the plates, he smiled and asked, "anything for dessert?"

sarah’s picked on the keyword as always and said, "ice cweam."

joel chuckled. "one strawberry ice cream for her," he said, knowing it was her favorite.

the waiter nodded, then looked at you. "and for your other daughter?"

you froze, feeling your cheeks burn instantly, but joel just laughed out loud.

"go on," he said between laughs. "get somethin’."

you tried to hide your smile, looking down. "uh… cheesecake, please."

the waiter left but joel was still chuckling. you peeked at him from the corner of your eye, still embarrassed.

for joel, though, the waiter’s comment stayed on his mind. it felt strange. he’d seen you with different eyes before, more than once, and knowing other people might see you as more like his daughter than anything else made him feel... weird. it wasn’t bad exactly, but it left him a little self-conscious. of how old he is, of how young you are, of maybe being a creep for thinking about you in that way.

you broke his thoughts, nudging your plate toward him. "want a bite?"

he chuckled, shaking his head. "nah, i’m good."

"come on," you insisted, sliding the spoon toward him.

"i said i’m—" he started, but you were already scooping up a bite.

"just try it," you said, looking at him with those pleady eyes he can't resist.

he huffed and leaned forward, taking the bite from the spoon. "alright," he said and smiled after, "not bad."

after dessert, you took sarah to the kids’ area, pushing her gently on the swing and helping her to climb the slide. she giggled, asking for 'more'. and joel found himself watching from a distance, not only watching his daughter, but also watching you.

his phone rang then, from work. he answered and after a couple minutes, he walked to you.

"got called in," he said.

"do you have to go right now?" you asked.

"it'll be quick," he nodded. "but i can get you to your house first."

you shifted sarah onto your hip. "no, i can watch her," you offered.

joel shook his head. "nah, i can’t—"

but sarah gripped you even harder, hiding her face in your neck with a tiny whine.

"it’s fine," you said softly, rubbing her back. "she’s okay with me."

he glanced between you both, then sighed. "alright… we’ll all go."

you nodded, but he took sarah to all the way to the truck. she stayed tucked against you the whole way, following the same routine as before.

he got to the site and you all came out, but he was the one holding sarah, who only got more excited seeing all the stuff, and the same helmets joel wears all the time, pointing at them with both hands.

"dada!" she said and joel just smiled, holding her even prouder.

the man who’d called him waved from a distance, and joel headed over, still holding sarah on his hip while they talked. you stayed back, looking around, hearing all the noise, all the big machines, the men sweating, working. it looked hard and now you could see now why joel always looked tired, why his hands were calloused and he's always with bruises.

you caught the sound of sarah’s little laugh, and glanced to them. joel was proudly showing her to his coworkers.

that’s when one of the workers came to you. "first time in a place like this?" he asked, nodding toward the construction.

"yeah," you said softly.

he grinned, and you kept talking, he made you laugh by making jokes about the site. but before the conversation could go deeper, joel looked at the both of you, how you were laughing, but even more, how the man was looking at you, and not only him, a couple more men. of course they'd look to you, wearing the dress, how it lifted just enough with the wind. he knew the men he worked with.

joel walked over, frowning, shifting sarah slightly in his arm. "break’s over," he told the man flatly. "get back to it."

the worker nodded quickly and left, and sarah immediately reached for you.

"sweetheart, stay with me," joel said, but she stretched her little arms toward you anyway, her eyes big and pleading.

you laughed, giving in and lifting her from his arms. "i’ve got her."

joel shook his head but didn’t stop you, just told you to stay close to him. while you played with sarah a few steps away, pointing out things she could see from a safe distance, joel joined a small group of his crew.

they started talking, but it didn’t take long before one of them nodded toward you. "so, uh… who’s that?"

"the babysitter," joel said simply.

another man added, "she's hot."

"you sleepin’ with the babysitter, miller?" a third one joined, making everyone laugh. "i mean, i would do too." he shrugged. "look at her, bet she's all sweet down there too."

"bet she sucks dick really good," everyone except joel laughed. "come on, look at her lips, they must be soft."

joel stiffened. "knock it off. show some respect." his tone left no room for argument, and the men exchanged glances before shifting the conversation back to work.

but joel’s found you again, holding his daughter, feeling even worse knowing he'd thought almost the same. not in that vulgar way, but he knows you more, he... he knows how sweet you are, he'd seen you almost bare, he knows what kind of panties you wear, he knows how soft your lips and hands are.

after a while, joel came back for good now, and sarah reached for him. he took her in his arms immediately, walking toward the truck, but as they passed by one of the machines, it made a loud sound.

sarah got scared, and dug her face on joel's neck, crying.

"hey, hey, it’s okay," joel murmured, walking faster. his hand rubbed slow circles over her back. "it’s just a machine, baby girl. nothin’ to be scared of."

she still cried, hard and joel felt guilty for even bringing her here in the first place.

"you’re alright," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. "you’re my brave girl. i got you." he didn’t let go until they were out of the site, almost near the truck.

once at home, sarah seemed calmer but still a little sensitive. joel had told about taking you home, but after a glance to sarah, seeing her all scared, you decided to stick with them a little more, until sarah was okay.

you played with her, as much as she wanted, until she started rubbing her eyes. then, you settled on the couch with her over your lap, joel bringing the bunny sippy cup with warm milk. sarah drank slowly, her eyes closing but still drinking just like when she was a baby, you rocked her, hummed lullabies to her until she was completely asleep.

joel was there, watching the scene with a soft gaze, he loves seeing how soft you are with his girl. "i’ll take her in her room," he said softly, lifting her from your arms.

when he came back, he sat down on the edge of the couch, looking at you. "thank you. i mean it when i say i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckled. "you’re welcome."

"you have to head out now?" he asked after a moment.

“why?”

he cleared his throat. "wonderin’ if you wanted a glass of wine."

your cheeks warmed, but you nodded. "sure."

he gave a small nod and went to the kitchen, returning a minute later with two glasses and the bottle of wine. he sat beside you, handing you one.

"thank you for today," you said, "for lunch and all."

"nah," he shook his head, "thank you. you helped me out more than you know."

"it’s nothing," you smiled. "i really like sarah. i like taking care of her."

"she likes you too," joel said, "more than me, probably."

you laughed. "no, sarah loves her daddy."

he chuckled at that, shaking his head.

"you’re patient with her," you added. "you’re a good dad."

he sighed as if you just told him something it hurt. "i try my best."

you smiled at him over your glass.

after that, the conversation kept going to different things, not only about sarah, or work, just random things. music, places you’d been, joel was telling you stories from when he was young, making you laugh. maybe it was the wine, maybe it was just being comfortable, but you both started loosening up.

before taking another sip, joel glanced at you. "this job doesn’t get in the way of time with your boyfriend, does it?"

you laughed hard, "well, if i had one, sure."

"what? you’re young, real pretty, sweet… i can’t believe you don’t have someone."

you shook your head, smiling into your glass. "nope. nothing like that."

he chuckled, taking a drink of his own. "why?"

"well, i've come to understand that guys are... stupid."

"yeah, guys your age are stupid," he said drinking, you chuckled when he clarified guys your age.

you tilted your head. "what about you? do you only have time for sarah and work, or do you get home late ‘cause you’re seeing some woman?"

he laughed at that, leaning back. "i wish. after sarah, it’s just been her and work for me."

"you should go out more, then," you said with a little shrug.

"yeah?" he asked.

"i’m serious," you nodded. "i can watch sarah if you need me to. you deserve time for yourself, too."

he shook his head with a small laugh. you paused for a second, then made the big quiestion, "is that because of sarah’s mom?"

he didn’t answer right away, just stared to the glass in his hands. "sorry," you said quickly, "that’s probably too personal."

"it’s fine," he said, sighing hard. "she’s out of the picture. decided to move on with her life."

your heart sank, not only because the woman left, but because of how he said it. "i’m sorry," you murmured. "more for her, though… she’s missing out on an incredible little girl and—" you cleared your throat, "—and a man just as good."

joel chuckled at your words, shaking his head slightly. "you think i’m a good man?"

you nodded. "i do. you’re hardworking, you provide for sarah, you’re present, you love her."

he smiled, looking down. "well, that’s just bein’ a dad."

you laughed softly. "and you’re also very handsome. and respectful."

that pulled his gaze back to you, eyebrows raising. "handsome?" you nodded. "well… i’m honored a girl like you would think i’m handsome."

"you are," you said as if it wasn't a big deal. "and even though i don’t know you as a man, outside of being a dad, i’m sure you’re good in that way, too."

"that could be arranged," he said without thinking.

you froze for a second, your cheeks burning red. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

you shook your head. "no… not at all. maybe you’re just drunk."

joel’s gaze softened. "no, darlin’, i’m not."

"then you're lying to me!" you said gasping, as if you just caught him on something.

"what?" he said just as confused.

"because you said you texted me this morning telling me you weren't gonna work today, but i ain't got no message, that means you were texting someone else," you shrugged.

his brows knitted together and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the messages, he chuckled once he saw who he sent the message to.

"tommy, he's my brother," he shook his head. "shit, i was supposed to get some things for next week's dinner," he said, talking to himself. "but yeah, i sent it to him." you rolled your eyes, laughing. "made you came for nothing."

"for nothing?" you raised a brow. "you took me out to eat, you showed me your workplace, and now we're drinking wine. i don't think that's nothing."

"guess i’ll just have to pay you for your time now."

"oh, stop," you laughed.

he was already reaching for his wallet when you reached across to grab his hand. "joel, no—if you pay me, i’m gonna feel awful. you already took me out to eat, you’re being this kind, i won't take it."

he shifted in his seat at the same time you leaned forward, the two of you ending up closer than you’d meant to. his eyes trailed your face, eyes landing on your lips, and then he looked away, to the ceiling, rubbing his own eyes.

"and on top of all that," he muttered, "the waiter thought you were my daughter."

he sounds ashamed, dissapointed and you knew it, you knew that comment would stay on his head.

you shook your head, chuckling and cupped his face. "if i was your daughter i couldn't do this," and as soon as the words left your mouth, you leaned to press your lips on his.

how sweet they were! god, and it lasted less than five seconds, but it was enough to make him lose his mind.

his hands found your hips and shifted you totally over his lap, easily, you gaped and he was already trying to meet your lips again. but you were the one who gave in, leaning, kissing him, deeper this time, holding his face, brushing your fingers over his stubble.

"wait," you said mid-kiss. "this isn't—good," you said in a soft voice once his hands slipped to your butt.

"you really wanna stop?" he asked in a deep voice. "you feel uncomfortable?"

you shook your head. "but you're my boss."

he chuckled almost painfully. "don't care," he said digging his head in your neck.

it had been time since joel wasn't like this with someone. there was something beautiful about the way a woman can make him weak, just feeling your scent, kissing your neck, feeling how soft you get in his arms, feeling how you tug at his hair.

but after a moment, you shifted your hands to his, moving them from your hips, to inside your dress, he was impressed that you were the one who did that for him, but he touched you anyways. he brushed his hands over your thighs, on your sides, and most of all, on your ass, almost bare, he could feel the triangle piece of fabric barely covering your butt.

god, you got him hard, aching, and he hadn't even seen you yet, he's just feeling you. in the meantime, you undid the buttons of his flannel, one by one, enjoying how the hairs of his chest peek out, he was eager to get back to your lips, but you placed your palms on his chest.

"wait," you said softly, eyes on his stomach, taking off his shirt, entirely.

you licked your lips and leaned in, looking up to him before pressing your lips on his bare chest. it was just as hard as you imagined, and main of the reasons why joel didn’t want you to take the lead. he’s too weak right now. specially beneath your touch, feeling how your lips swipe all over his chest, followed by your tongue. he couldn’t help but moan once he felt your teeth digging on his skin, sucking just a bit over his neck, enough to maybe leave a hickey.

“jesus,” he said in a gasp.

“in case you’re lying to me, mr. miller,” you said softly, looking right to his eyes. “that woman will know you fucked the babysitter.”

he hissed. pushing your hips down to his trying for you to feel his prominent bulge. and god, you did, you bit your lip and bucked your hips by pure instinct.

“it ain’t no damn woman,” he said almost groaning, digging his face back in your neck.

this time joel wasn’t that soft anymore. he pulled down your dress enough to leave you in bra, finally meeting those pretty tits he’s only imagined and now, he’s gonna mark them.

but first he went for your neck, doing the same you just did to him. sucking your skin but at the same time, he squeezed one of your breasts, making your whimper, not out of pain, but because of how good it felt. the man didn’t get enough of you.

“that it,” he said against the slope of your breast. “might as well take you to my work again,” he said heavily breathing. “so no one has a doubt who’s made you these.”

“that so?” you almost chuckled because you remembered what happened earlier.

“you’re clueless, aren’t you?” he rasped, heavily breathing. “being all sweet, wearing this dress.”

“guess it worked, then.”

“i think you’d look better without it.”

you hummed, and he got rid of your dress slowly, enjoying seeing your bare hips, your thighs, your stomach, the hickeys he just did on your breasts, on your chest and neck. you look even better with these.

but what really got him are those tiny panties you’re wearing. lacy, soft pink panties. “damn, sweetheart,” he groaned, toying the waistband. “you’re all sweet wearing damn thongs.”

you chuckled until his hands unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. you gasped and your first instinct was to cover yourself.

“come on, baby,” he said cupping your hands over your breasts. “don’t be shy with me.”

you chuckled, biting your lip, but letting go from your breasts. he stiffened at the sight of your bare nipples, how sweet and swollen they were.

he took your hand and guided it to his crotch. “you see what you do to me?” he said as soon as you grabbed his dick over his clothes.

you quickly tried to unbuckle his belt, to take off his jeans. he helped you with it, dragging even his boxers off. your jaw dropped a little. you’ve seen it before, yes, but not like this, not whole, not this raw.

it’s not gonna fit.

you flushed hard and brushed the very tip of your finger over the very tip of his dick, your finger getting sticky with precum, making him flinch. he lifted you a little to take off your panties.

“joel—“ you said in a gasp. “i-i don’t think it fits.”

he chuckled in pain. “we’re gonna make it fit,” he rasped. “do you want this?”

you nodded. “do you?”

“more than you can imagine.”

and the next thing you felt, was his tip rubbing your slit, mixing your juices with his. letting them be the lube you need. he didn’t rush anything, he knew you were way smaller than him, that it could hurt if he was too rough. but he was gentle with you—at first.

you felt the tip at your entrance and you slowly seated on him. he let you set a pace, even if you were killing him. you were too tight he was worried this was your first time.

he groaned, “you done this before, angel?”

you nodded. “i told you guys sucks.” he chuckled. “but you’re a man through and through.”

he just thrusted, a little hard but not enough to hurt you. just to give you pleasure. you could feel every inch of his dick stretching you out, he whimpered, cause in fact you’re torturing him, specially with those sweet moans in his ear.

you bucked your hips, as if trying to ride him, but he was trying to do the same. it was complicated at first, until both of you understood each other and got a matching pace.

the couch was squeaking, the living room filled with whimpering, and you both were filled with pleasure. joel loved seeing you bouncing over him, seeing your breasts raising and falling, seeing how sweaty you get, feeling your nails dragging all over his back.

“damn, this what you do to your sitters?” you said between breathy moans.

joel hasn’t touched a woman in so long but that doesn’t mean he didn’t remember how to do it. he enjoys making a woman have an orgasm, he enjoys knowing he’s capable of doing it, that his dick provides that much pleasure. and by any means he wanted to finish inside, he couldn’t risk getting you pregnant, specially not now, not like this.

“you’re so tight for me,” he growled.

but he lost it once you started to kiss him as you swayed your hips back and forth. you know what you’re doing, you know damn well because you can feel him throbbing inside, you can feel him twitching, getting more stiffen beneath you. but the thing is, he wasn’t he only one, you were throbbing just as much, your walls choking him.

and he didn’t stop you. if anything, he just held your hips and followed your pace, leaning to gently shift positions just a bit, to kiss you, while he thrusted, hard, and you knew he was about to come, you could feel it. but you were already in a bliss to stop him from finishing inside.

so just as predicted, you felt him loading you cum. a lot. “joel,” you said in a tiny moan. “fuck.”

you whined, but didn’t move for a couple of seconds, and he didn’t pull out either, god, how good it feels filling a girl with his come, it feels even better knowing how risky it is.

he kissed you one last time before brushing his forehead with yours.

you’re heavily breathing just as him. sweating and your body shaking. he slowly pulled out, making you whine a bit, but god… the view.

your tiny slit was all flushed, swollen, glazing with your juices but also, dripping his cum. he felt proud of it.

but he parted your legs instead, rubbing his thumb over your clit, you winced, but then he slid his fingers to your hole where you leaked his cum.

“clench,” he said softly.

it almost made him hard again, seeing how more cum came out of your hole. he got as much as he could with his fingers, trying to clean you. it wasn’t embarrassing at all. if anything, it felt vulnerable but comforting at the same time. you like the way he touched you.

you licked your lips, and once he finished for good, you put your underwear back on, but he didn’t let you put on your dress, since he pulled you back with him to the couch.

you chuckled and snuggled on his chest, still feeling his cum bubbling inside you.

he was rubbing the pad of his thumb on your back. but then you became a bit self conscious, like, will things get uncomfortable from now on? will this change anything between you? you weren’t dumb, you knew what you just did wasn’t the best since he’s still the man you work for.

but he interrupted your thoughts. “hey,” he said gently, you looked up to him.

“mhm?”

“i’m glad i sent the text to my brother and not you.”

you chuckled, “yeah, honestly, me too.”

he leaned a bit, to meet your lips, and you followed, it was all soft, and that’s the part you enjoyed most.

“my brother and i are goin’ on a little trip next weekend,” he said lowly.

“sounds great,” you nodded. “it’ll be good for you.”

he cleared his throat. “do you think—uh, can you come with us? it’s to the mountains, but i’m sure you’d like it, really comfy cabins, with a fireplace and everything.”

you chuckled. “i mean, if you need me to,” you shrugged and he grinned. “i’m sarah’s sitter after all,” you stared at his smile, his lips once they curved after you said that. "and if you need to, i can take care of you too."

✿₊˚⊹🐇𐙚₊˚⊹♡

#millersangel writes ♡#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller tlou

662 notes · View notes

mcu-binge · 2 days ago

Text

Unspoken || Clark Kent x Reader ||

Pairing : Clark Kent x Reader Word count : ~2835

Summary : secret situationship clark kent x reader. you flirt back with someone new, clark short-circuits. cue petty office games

Tags/warnings : jealous!Clark, fluff, light smut (?)

A/N : Hellloooo I rewatched Twisters last night and I may or may not have written something inspired by David’s character Scott. Let me know if you would like to read it! Requests are still open feel free to send me one Clark Kent related or not!

=====================================

Daily Planet, 11:44 a.m.

You feel her before you hear her.

The intern. Madison. Or Madeline. Something with lip gloss and a fake laugh.

She floats past your desk again, third time this morning, armed with a stack of files she definitely doesn’t need help carrying.

You keep your eyes on your monitor. You’ve gotten good at pretending. Good at pretending a lot of things.

But you don’t miss the way her heels click to a stop at Clark’s desk.

“Oh my gosh, you’re seriously working through lunch again?” she coos, like it’s an original observation.

You can practically hear Clark smile. “I like to get ahead on edits. Makes Perry slightly less terrifying.”

She laughs way too loudly.

You tap your pen against your notepad. One, two, three. Breathe.

“You know,” she says, “I read that piece you did on the fires last month? The way you described the scene… it was like I was there.”

“Thanks,” Clark replies, gracious as ever. “It was a tough one to write.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. You’re so good with words.”

You look up then. Clark is smiling. Polite. Friendly. Maybe not flirting, but… not shutting it down either.

Your stomach knots not necessarily from insecurity, but from the quiet ache of knowing you don’t get to say anything. Not here. Not where people would ask questions.

Not where you’d have to admit that you snuck into his apartment last weekend and fell asleep wearing his flannel shirt. So you turn back to your screen. Focus. Breathe.

Until you hear her say “I don’t know how anyone expects me to get anything done with you sitting over there being all—” She lowers her voice. “Clark-y.”

You blink. Clark-y? What the hell does that even mean?

And that’s when you hear him laugh. Really laugh.

That’s it. That’s the crack. A fine, hairline fracture in whatever unspoken arrangement the two of you have been delicately well stupidly balancing.

You stand, a little too fast.

“I’m going to grab coffee,” you say, mostly to the air.

Clark looks up. “Want me to come with?”

“Nope.” You’re already walking away.

Behind you, the intern giggles again.

You’re back from the coffee run, to-go cup in hand and pride barely intact, when a voice stops you cold.

“Sorry—hold it right there. Light’s hitting you just right.”

You blink, turning toward the source.

He’s standing by the east-facing window, DSLR slung across his chest, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. Tousled hair, scruff like it’s grown in defiance, and the posture of someone who doesn’t know how not to be confident.

“I’m the new photographer,” he says, as if reading your mind. “Caleb.” He adds extending a polite hand to you

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously before shaking it. “And you just take candids of coworkers without asking?”

“Only when they look that good holding caffeine.”

It should make you roll your eyes. It should. But something inside you, the same something that had to endure Miss Clark-y 20 minutes ago nudges you to tilt your head, just a little and let him snap some photos.

You smirk just a little. It’s harmless. It’s fun. And most importantly, you know exactly who’s watching from the corner of the bullpen, hand halfway to his glasses like he’s pretending to clean them.

Clark.

He’s facing his screen, but his ears are pink. You know that pink.

“Anyway,” Caleb says, stepping back, “if I’m ever assigned to your stories, we should, uh, coordinate. Lunch maybe. Talk shop.”

You nod. “I’ll think about it.”

And just like that, he walks away. No lingering, no pushiness. Just a lingering impression and a very obvious audience.

You don’t even have to look to feel Clark’s gaze. Not just watching. Tracking.

You take one slow sip from your coffee and return to your desk like nothing happened. The rest of the work day drags on with you avoiding Clark's glances and heading straight home after.

Your phone buzzes just as you’re about to put it on Do Not Disturb.

Clark Kent

You hesitate. One beat. Two. Three. Then answer.

“Didn’t peg you as a night owl Mr. Kent,” you say, voice soft in the dark.

Clark chuckles. You can hear the faint rustle of his sheets. He’s in bed.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says. “Thought I’d call my favorite insomniac.”

“Oh? And here I thought I was just your coworker.”

“You know better than that.”

There’s a pause a thick and warm and familiar one.

You let it hang a moment longer. “Hmmm… what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know,” he says casually. “Just wondering how your day went. You were… smiley.”

You blink at the ceiling. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

“You are. It’s just…” He trails off. “New guy got you grinning like that on day one?”

You smirk, biting your bottom lip. “You mean Caleb?”

“Is that his name? I didn’t know; he didn’t come by and take my picture.”

You laugh. “You’re not even pretending to be subtle.”

“I’m just curious,” he says, too quickly. “Didn’t realize you liked… confident guys with man buns and vintage cameras.”

“He doesn’t wear a man bun, Clark. Is that jealousy I hear?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a second too long. “Just trying to figure out what your type is.”

You let that hang in the air.

“I don’t think I have a type,” you murmur. “But I do like when a guy makes an effort.”

He exhales. “I make an effort.”

“Do you?”

“Hey, I brought you soup when you were sick.”

“And I never said thank you properly.” Your voice softens, slow and warm. “You’re sweet, Clark.”

Another silence. Then “I don’t want to just be sweet.”

That does something to you.

You shift under your blankets, suddenly too aware of the sound of his voice through the line.

“So you’re calling me for a bedtime confession?”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I just… didn’t like seeing someone else flirt with you.”

“Why?”

“Because…” His voice dips lower. “I prefer being the reason you blush.”

You’re quiet.

Clark clears his throat like he said too much. “Anyway. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make this weird.”

“It’s not weird.”

Another pause.

“You make me act weird, you know that?” he says.

You smile into your pillow. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Clark laughs, soft and wrecked. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

“Sweet dreams.” He adds.

“Dream sweet and of me,” You add with a smile before hanging up.

—

You don’t expect anything when you walk in.

No follow-up to the flirt-heavy, “I don’t want to just be sweet” phone call. Just normal Clark behavior: polished, polite, maybe a little sheepish for opening up the way he did.

You definitely don’t expect your exact coffee order, oat milk, half pump vanilla, cinnamon on top sitting on your desk like it manifested from a dream.

You stop. Stare.

There’s a sticky note stuck to the lid:

Figured I owed you caffeine after that late call. – C

Your stomach flutters.

You barely have time to recover before Kat waltzes past, side-eyeing your cup.

“Oof. Is that from who I think it’s from?”

You shrug, playing dumb. “No idea.”

“Sure,” she snorts.

9:05 a.m.

You’ve just settled back at your desk when Clark appears. Not his usual notebook-in-hand work mode. He strolls in like he owns the place. His sleeves rolled to the elbows. Glasses on dangerously close to heartthrob-who-reads-poetry territory.

And he’s beaming. Like nothing in the world is wrong.

He leans against your desk, tilts his head. “Morning.”

You glance up. “Little late, aren’t you?”

He taps your empty coffee cup. “Thought I’d give you time to enjoy that first.”

You deadpan. “That’s suspiciously thoughtful.”

He lowers his voice. “Just making sure I stay your favorite.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks betray you.

“Anyway,” he adds, dropping a paper bag in front of you, “they were out of your favorite muffin, so I brought you the second favorite. Blueberry and don’t pretend it’s not.”

That makes you smile. “You remembered that?”

“I remember a lot of things,” he says, voice dipping.

Before you can form a snappy comeback, he’s already walked off.

Kat peers around the divider again, mouthing: WHAT IS HAPPENING

You don’t answer. Mostly because you don’t know anymore.

1:12 p.m.

Caleb returns from an assignment and spots you in the copy room.

“Hey, smiley,” he says, stopping just short of the door. “You free for lunch?”

You open your mouth to respond friendly, casual, not flirty when a shadow moves behind you.

Clark appears out of nowhere, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a smug smile in the other.

“Ooof she’s booked. I grabbed lunch for us,” he says, breezy and bold. “Hope you’re still on your wings kick.”

You turn, confused. “You… ordered lunch?”

Clark nods. “Figured I’d beat the rush.”

He sets the bag down and for the first time in office history brushes his hand against the small of your back. Not obviously. Not possessively. Just enough.

“Sorry,” he says to Caleb. “Didn’t mean to step on your plans.”

Caleb blinks. “Oh. No worries. You guys enjoy.”

Clark just smiles and hands you a box of fries like a man very pleased with himself.

At 3:27 p.m. Flowers arrive.

It’s a small bouquet of wildflowers and peonies soft and subtle. There’s no note. Just a tiny card in the bottom of the vase with your initials. But the handwriting? You’d know it anywhere.

Kat is losing her mind.

“Girl. What is going on. Is this your boyfriend or a PR stunt?”

You laugh, half-exasperated, half-flushed. “It’s complicated.”

Clark walks past your desk with a mug of tea, glances at the flowers.

Then, audible enough to be overheard, he mutters, “Wonder who the lucky guy is.”

Kat actually squeals.

End of the day. The office is mostly empty. You go into the copy room to grab some print outs when Clark appears in the doorway. It’s quiet maybe a little too quiet. Like the building is holding its breath.

“I need to talk to you,” he says, low, almost careful.

You don’t look up. “Now’s not great.”

“Tough.” His voice drops. “I’ve been patient. That’s done.”

You freeze.

He walks in, not fast, but with purpose. Like every step is a choice. He doesn’t stop until he’s close.

“You smiled at him like he made your whole damn day.”

You scoff. “You mean the same way I’ve smiled at you for weeks?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“I’m the one who knows how you take your coffee. I’m the one you call when you can’t sleep. I’m the one you wear flannel shirts from like we’re already—” He cuts himself off, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling.

You turn slowly, heart pounding, voice quieter. “Like we’re already what Clark?”

He stares at you. And it hurts. Because his eyes aren’t soft right now they’re hungry. Sharp. Bruised.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I do know I wanted to tear that camera out of his hands.”

You take a shaky breath. “You didn’t say anything.”

He exhales through his nose. “Because if I said anything, I was gonna say everything.”

You blink. “Then say it.”

He moves. One step. Then another. Until you’re backed up against the copy machine, the hum of it echoing your pulse.

“I want you,” he murmurs. “Not just late at night. Not just when no one’s looking.”

His hand grazes your wrist barely, but it sets your whole body on fire.

“I want to touch you whenever I want,” he says. “I want to sit in meetings and watch you try not to look at me. I want to take you to lunch and not pretend it’s platonic.”

You exhale shakily. “Then why haven’t you?”

His jaw ticks. His eyes flicker down to your mouth, then back up like it physically hurts him to look at you.

“Because…” he starts, voice low, tight, “I won’t be pretending. And if people know—if they connect us—then you’re not just some coworker anymore. You’re a target.”

You blink, a little thrown. “What?”

He swallows hard. “I interview Superman. People already watch me too closely. There’ve been threats before anonymous calls, notes, people trying to leverage my contacts. And if anyone figures out what you are to me—” His voice catches. “I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt because of me.”

The air between you thickens. Not with fear, but with feeling. Sharp and aching and all-consuming.

“Clark,” you whisper, stepping into him, hand curling around his forearm. “I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t.” You shake your head. “I care about you. I’ve been waiting for you to say something—anything—but all I’ve ever wanted was for you to want me out loud.”

He looks down at your lips then your eyes and suddenly he starts leaning into your like gravity, hands finding your waist, your hips, hauling you into him like he needs to feel every word he can’t say. It’s clumsy, frantic, desperate.

You stumble backwards hitting the copy machine. He palms blindly resting his hands on it, never breaking the kiss, never loosening his grip.

“You drive me crazy,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Ditto” you gasp, already tugging at his tie, his shirt, anything to get closer.

He lifts you with a groan, setting you down on the copy machine like you belong there, like he’s dreamed of this a thousand times. His kisses trail down your neck, hot and open-mouthed, like he’s memorizing you with lips and tongue.

“This is reckless,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

You curl your fingers into his hair. “You started it.”

He huffs a shaky laugh, then bites back a moan when you tug him in tighter. “I want you.”

“Then take me.”

His lips press against yours tongue begging to be let in, and there’s no more talking. Just moaning. Gasping. Your skirt is hiked up bunched at your thighs. You hastily unbutton his pants desperate to feel him. Desperate friction. You stroke his cock hungrily. His hand comes down moving your panties to the side. His name gasped against his shoulder as he moves inside you, forehead pressed to yours like prayer, like apology, like finally.

There’s nothing gentle about it just months of buried tension erupting into something real and raw and undeniable. His hands move your hips holding you tightly as he relentlessly thrusts into you. You lean back against the copy machine unable to keep yourself up anymore. He takes the chance and lets his hands explore every part of you.

And when it’s over when you’re clinging to him, lips swollen, heartbeat skittering against his chest. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“No more pretending” he whispers against your forehead

You smile, “No more.” You whisper back breathlessly

—

The next morning the morning air is crisp. City traffic hums in the background. You round the corner, distractedly tugging your scarf tighter, and nearly walk past him.

Clark. Leaning casually against the brick column like he’s in a cologne ad. Two coffees in hand. Hair a little windswept. Tie crooked in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

You stop short. He lifts your coffee and gives you that smile. The private one. The I didn’t sleep much thinking about you one.

“Good Morning,” he says, voice soft. “Brought reinforcements.”

You take the cup and stare at him for a beat. “You waited for me?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Didn’t want to walk in alone.”

You glance at the Planet’s doors, then back at him. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” He bumps your shoulder. “Last night was… clarifying.”

You laugh under your breath, cheeks warm. “You mean wildly overdue?”

He grins. “That too.”

You sip your coffee, then glance sideways at him. “You sure about this?”

Clark’s eyes drop to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.”

He opens the door for you, lets you step inside first, hand gently pressed to your lower back like it’s second nature. It sends a chill up your spine, but not in a bad way.

You walk toward your desk side by side, your steps synced, conversation light. And then, right there, in full view of Kat, Perry, Jimmy, and every nosy intern with a crush, Clark does something unthinkable. He leans in.

Not dramatic. Not flashy. Just casual, confident, and real. He presses a soft, slow kiss to your lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” he murmurs, like it’s been your routine for years.

Then he walks off. Calm. Collected. Definitely smirking.

You’re frozen.

The bullpen? Silent.

Kat’s jaw is on the floor. The intern drops her pen. Perry mutters something about “finally.”

You sit down slowly, heart hammering in your chest, still holding your coffee like it’s the only solid thing in the world.

Kat leans in, eyes wide. “What the actual hell just happened.”

You take a breath. Smile.

“Clark Kent just hard-launched me to the entire newsroom.”

582 notes · View notes

fontainexpert · 2 days ago

Text

"I BET IS HEAVY"! Phainon x reader

synopsis. where phainon overheard a conversation that he shouldn't. or better yet, he should. after all, the consequence to it was.. quite nice.

warnings. MDNI. nsfw. oral sex (m!receiving). deep throat. throat fucking. size kink. handjob. blowjob. cum swallowing. porn with feelings.

wc. 4.0k

Phainon was walking in the previous space where he and Mydeimos would train, before the entire Flame-Chase journey.

Endless and endless days and nights fighting and competing with each other even with the most idiotic and unserious subjects, just to see who would take the victory home, or a scolding lesson from Aglaea or Tribbie. From the occasional competition in the hot baths to see who would remain standing in scorching heat, from actual fights.

And right now, before he could make presence, he saw you.

You, sitting in one of the benches where he would throw his body in exhaustion after, casually watching a Fragment of Recollection, and the memory that was shown, was of him and Mydei competing to see who ran faster. You had a very gentle smile on your face, watching with an amused smile as, embarrassingly enough, Phainon often would lose. Mydei was unfortunately faster.

Phainon fancied you. He fancied your smile, the way your lips were beautiful especially when you’d smile or laugh, he fancied how your hair when blown in the wind made your face look somewhat even gentler.

But he was a coward, so he never spoke about these feelings. After losing Aedes Elysiae, he wasn’t ready to lose the current most important person in his life in case his feelings were rejected, and he had already made peace with the thought. But yes, he would be lying if he said that he never fantasized about a gentle touch.

“Phainon is slow.”

Your friend, sitting next to you, spoke. Breaking said man from his inner turmoil.

“Obviously faster than me, or you, but slower than Mydei.” She continued, watching as the memory of Phainon dramatically cried out about ‘again! let’s see if now i’m faster.’, and said man in the current time flinched embarrassed, not wanting to disappoint the one he cherished with not-so-positive results of his competitions.

He watched your expression from afar, and he himself saw how instead of immediately announcing his presence, he was now listening to the both of you speak of him. He cringed internally, ready to leave, but first looking at your face to see your reaction to your friends’ words.

…Nothing.

You no longer had the amused smile in your face, but there was no judgement or scrutinization, instead, there was an appreciative look in your eyes as it followed each movement the Phainon in the memory was doing. There was also another look, something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on to say with absolute certainty what were you feeling.

“Which is impressive, actually.” Once again, your friend spoke. “How does that man run with armor in his legs but not chest? Shouldn’t that technically make him slower? Yet he’s faster? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate the tattoos on him, and the view, and-”

“I bet is heavy.”

You spoke for the first time since he arrived, and your friend, confused, muttered a ‘huh?’ while looking at you, not understanding. Sighing dreamy, you continued.

“His cock. I bet is heavy, which makes him slower.”

..Pause.

Phainon had to blink three times in order to finally understand what you had just said, while a gasp almost made out of his mouth out loud, and his face, along with his neck and ears, went completely red. Bewildered eyes stared at your face, even if you hadn’t seen or noticed him.

Your friend, however, laughed out loud, surprised.

“Oh my Titan! I can’t believe you just said that!” And there she went, laughing again, this time making you chuckle as well.

“I mean it.” You simply said, not once looking at your friend, but instead keeping your eyes on him. The fragment memory, at that.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, huh~” She teased, and that’s when you twitch your lips, containing a smile. “Wait! Is this why you always asked to see when he and Mydeimos would train?!”

This time, you looked at her. “No!” And laughed. “Not always, I mean. I enjoy looking at him, he is.. gorgeous.” You sighed once more, resting your chin on your hand. “I really fancy him.”

He didn’t bother to keep listening to what your friend had to say after that.

Because even due the.. vulgar or embarrassing circumstance of him discovering, he finally realized that the look in your eyes that he couldn’t pinpoint what was, was actually longing. Longingly looking at him.

And with this information, he turned around and left. Face and neck red, throat surprisingly dry while his hands were now moist with the first signs of nervousness appearing, and completely ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that he was currently facing inside his pants.

You missed Phainon.

You didn’t talk much with each other, but as someone with a longing crush on someone else, you guessed it was normal to feel like this when the one you wanted stopped appearing in your life like he was used to.

The Flame-Chase journey was dangerous and tiring, you knew that. You worried about him, and longed for a life where one day you would be able to hug him and soothe his worries, but right now, that was far from happening.

So imagine the surprise you felt when you saw him in Okhema’s Baths. Most specifically, in the extreme hot bath, a place where he and Mydei occasionally would compete with each other to see who would endure more.

This time, he wore no clothes except the traditional bath robes.

Swallowing dry, you blinked a few times and gripped the towels that were currently in your hand, tighter. Right now, the hot bath wing was closed for the day after three civilians decided to also challenge each other in the heat, only for two to puke and one to faint. Aglaea was furious, and as punishment, she intercepted any civilian to enter the place for the day, even after the water was cleaned and fully sanitized again.

The only ones that were allowed were, apparently, the Chrysos Heirs. And now you, bringing new towels and ornaments, oils and scents.

When did he come back?

Sighing, you looked to the ground and purposely stepped inside with a heavier foot then normal, entering the place and feeling the big white curtains behind you close. You heard water movement and then looked up, locking eyes with Phainon, while you faked a surprised reaction at seeing him, as if you hadn’t been ogling his muscular back in the past two minutes.

“Phainon!” You exclaimed, no longer faking reactions, but showing true glee in seeing him. Chuckling in amusement when said man looked at you with big eyes. “You are back. How do you feel?” And then walked in the direction of the stand where the towels were put, placing them in the bench and gathering each in your hands, folding them with care.

“Ah- I..” He started, and you hummed back, encouraging him to continue.

However, he remained quiet, looking at you. You felt his gaze before you even turned your head to look at him, now folding the second towel. Watching his expression, a somewhat bashful look on his face and cheeks surprisingly red, you deduced it was the result of the hot water he was in.

Clearing your throat, you decided to continue. “I know the journey is very tiring.. I hope you can rest well when you are able to, Phainon. Thank you for what you are currently doing for us.” You finished, folding the last towel. Slightly upset over the fact that you had to leave, while unfortunately not being able to even have a conversation with him. Maybe he was too tired, and now he wanted to rest. “Well, I’ll leave you be-”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, and you looked at him with surprise at his outburst. Him now being the one to clear the throat, moved position, giving you a show of his abs and chest, making your cheeks grow incredibly hot at the sight, leaving you to direct your eye to the wall. “I mean, yes, it’s very tiring..” Phainon continued. “Very heavy.”

He knew what he did. You didn’t.

The moment he looked at you, the only thing he could think of was of your words in the training grounds, and now, bathing in hot water, his body already a high temperature, made it almost impossible to not immediately get warm for other reasons besides the heat.

‘I bet is heavy.’

Those words started to haunt him in the last few hours, and now, you are here to taunt him without even knowing that he heard each word come out of your mouth.

You, however, only stared at him in sympathy.

“I imagine.” You softly spoke, not noticing Phainon’s twitch in the eye. “I didn’t want to bother you when you can finally rest.. Especially now that the hot bath is closed for civilians.” You quietly mused, content after seeing Phainon slight curve in the corner of his lips at that. “It must be very stressful, so you need to focus on relaxing now. We can.. chat later if you want.”

At the offer, he turned his head to look at you at surprising speed.

“Only if you want! You need to focus on yourself first-”

And he interrupted.

“Don’t you want to know if it’s heavy?”

Silence.

Both him and you remained in silence for a while, him only staring at you, and you in confusion. Only in the beginning. The more the phrase echoed inside your head, the faster it made you understand just what he had meant about that.

Oh my god.

“Phainon-”

“You know.” He started, releasing a breath from his nose and chuckling right after. “I spent the next few hours thinking about what you said. Thinking about if I should act on my feelings, or if I should just keep focused on the current task.” Phainon then got up, water pouring from the cloth around his waist covering him, and your throat went impossibly dry. “I know my answer now.” And started to walk at you.

“Phainon, I’m.. I’m sorry you heard that-”

He stepped right in front of you, your eyes refusing to meet his’, but now, you were face to face with.. His very wide chest.

“Sorry?” Phainon was so close to you that when he spoke, you could actually smell the mint breath in his mouth. “It gave me time to think that after losing everything, I would rather die knowing I was wanted than dying with regrets, not knowing if my affection was reciprocated.” He brought his hand to your chin forcing you to face him, and even while trying to act serious and brave, looking inside his deep blue eyes, you saw the nervousness in them. “And now that I know that is mutual.. If you allow me, I would like to try.. With you.”

It looked as if the man in front of you was trying to steal your breath away, the moment he uttered these words and how it completely broke any type of restraint or hesitation in your body.

“Yes.” You sighed, bringing your right hand into the one that was currently sliding to your cheek, resting above his own. “I would like that as well, Phainon.”

And that is when after years of pinning after the one in front of you, the first kiss was shared.

He slid his hand that was on your cheek to the back of your neck and brought your face to his, his lips colliding against yours in deep want, mouth enveloping your and with your gasp, his tongue entering your mouth and now battling against your own, as if fighting to see which one would win.

It amused you how even in between kisses, it was apparently an habit of his to turn every silly little thing into a competition. One that you were proud to admit that you forfeit with gusto and no regrets.

While his other hand grabbed your waist and brought your body closer to him, chests touching, your left hand made contact with his chest, and the right hand also slid to his neck, deepening the kiss.

It was true. He actually wanted to steal your breath away.

Gasping for air, the kiss broke, and now there were only two recent lovers gathering their breath.

“I won’t lie.. And say that I didn’t imagine how you would figure it out if I am, indeed, heavy.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed, breathless, smile widening as he also chuckled at that. “I still can’t believe you heard that.”

Snickering, he put both hands around your waist, caressing you with his thumbs.

“But..” You continued, swallowing spit, gathering courage to continue what it was on the tip of your tongue to be said. “Do you want me to show you just how I would figure it out?”

Phainon felt his breath hitch, looking at your eyes that somehow looked even bigger while asking it with an innocent tone. Your right hand resting on his chest, the hot and soft skin rising against your hand each time he breathed, and his heart pulsing in rhythm.

“Show me.” He muttered, almost begging. And show him, you did.

You kissed his jaw, at first giving a few pecks only with the occasional slip of your tongue tracing his jaw, as you then progressed in leaving hickeys leading to his neck. Oh how you wanted for so long to suck on the skin of his neck, especially his sun tattoo that had always teased you with the usual collar he would wear.

Phainon sighed, his hand in your nape supporting your head.

You brought the kisses down his chest, guilty enough giving more attention to his nipple, enjoying the small needy gasp he let out, a surprised ‘ah!’ from his lips, followed by a groan.

Your hands wandered down, finding place inside his robes, and shamelessly groping him.

“Yeah.” Whispering against his lips, you whispered. Your fingers slowly wrapped around his cock, and you felt yourself getting wet at the main cause of your wet dreams now at the palm of your hand. “Definitely heavy.”

With a gentle tug, you twist your wrist and stroked him lightly, running your thumb along the tip of his cock, smearing the small bead of pre cum that was currently leaking in your hand. Phainon moaned out loud, momentarily closing his eyes, only to keep them with a heavy gaze at your flushed face.

His cock is huge. Is big in your hand, and so unbelievably hot that you doubt the previous temperature of the water had anything to do with it. From the palm of your hand you can feel each thick vein, each time it keeps pulsating in your fingers, and each twitch of pleasure that the white haired man sighs softly in pleasure at your movements.

But that’s not enough.

“Too heavy for my hand.” And you let him know it.

In a second, you remove your hand from inside his robes and the man laments the loss of touch, only to stare at you in rapid surprise as you calmly push him backwards, until he feels a wall hitting at his back.

That’s when you go on your knees.

“W-wait!” He stutters, placing one hand at the top of your head, staring down at you.

You pause the movements at his robes, ready to remove them but pausing as he asked for, looking at him. “Do you want me to stop? It’s okay if we do.”

Sighing incredulously, he shakily closes his eyes. “No, I.. I just- Are you sure you want to..”

Softening your eyes, you bring your mouth close to his thigh, kissing him with the layer of clothing in the middle, but doing enough so you could visibly see when his cock jumped in interest, and heard the man above you swallow dry.

“Please.” You asked, no- begged. Eyes wide in purpose to make you seem more needy, as if it was possible with the amount of slick oozing out of you just at the touch of him.

Phainon nodded once, and you no longer wanted to waste more time.

Almost aggressively, you ripped his lower robe from him, letting it fall to the ground, and bit your lip at the cock in front of your face. Just by touching it, you knew he was pretty, and seeing it moments later just confirmed your thoughts. Flushed pink at the tip, the veins teasing you and then-

A bead of pre cum threatened to fall, only for you to immediately lash your tongue to the tip, licking it slowly, and looking up at him at the motion, closing your mouth at the tip and sucking gently, growing impossibly more wet as Phainon moaned out loud, closing his eyes and throwing his head at the wall behind him.

Leaving his tip, you decided to finally lick and suck at the thick vein in the underside of his cock, the tip of your tongue doing more pressure at it, coming from the base and ending on the top of his cock once again to get more of his pre cum.

“Fuck- Yes. Fuck.”

Who knew the Deliverer knew how to curse like that.

Finally, you envelop his head once again in your mouth, and breathing deeply you start to swallow him more and more, closing your eyes at the welcomed intrusion, not stopping until the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat. At that, you felt a hand suddenly grip your hair, but he didn’t push you against him, only used your hair as a grounding method so he doesn’t unravel in your mouth too soon.

“Oh my god.” He groaned, a delicious sound to your ears.

You bob your head, pressing your tongue in each spot of the cock inside your mouth, especially the thick vein. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping what you couldn’t fit inside your mouth right away, twisting your wrist and stroking him at the rhythm of you bobbing your head, giving more attention at the tip and then swallowing to the back of your throat once more.

Humming around him, you enjoyed how he groaned loud and gripped your hair even tighter.

You liked it, liked the slight pain in your scalp, it was a constant reminder that besides the constant groans and moans coming from Phainon, you were doing good, and that only made you more eager to have him abuse your mouth.

So, breathing deeply, you forced your head more, slowly making so that your nose now was smashed against his pelvis, and his small happy trail now was teasing your nose. You hummed once more.

“Please- so good, so good-” He whined, and as if you were the one receiving, you rolled your eyes in absolute pleasure, your own pussy clenching around nothing and wetting your undergarments, no doubt making a mess. After all, making him feel good was just as pleasurable as being on the receiving end, in your opinion.

Still breathing carefully, you started to bob your head again, now with the tip of his cock constantly hitting your throat, and you constantly swallowing and hollowing your throat, squeezing him inside your mouth.

While, now with both hands free, one grabbed his thigh, and the other went to his balls, squeezing them in pleasurable strokes.

He moaned your name, a plea for mercy that went completely ignored that resulted in his breaths coming more erratic and faster. You could feel his legs shaking, the cock inside your mouth twitching nonstop, and the mess. Desperate for more, you removed yourself from him and breathed.

“Do you want to come in my mouth, Phainon?” You spoke with a hoarse voice, lips red with abuse and messy with spit and precum.

“Please.” Phainon looked down at you, and the glassy eyes in him made him somehow look even more ethereal. Refusing him was impossible in your books.

“Fuck my mouth, Phainon. I want that, do you want that?” You said, watching as he nodded three times and still breathing erratically, and then brought his other hand that was at his side, making both of his hands handle your hair and using it as reins, but never pulling hard enough to hurt. “Then I am all yours to use.”

Just as you enveloped his cock inside your mouth again, he gave a thrust attempt, and when seeing no hesitation on your part to continue pleasuring him with your tongue inside your mouth, he finally, finally, started to fully thrust inside your mouth.

Right now, you were moaning around his cock very loudly, sounds being muffled by him and his own sounds, that for the both of your luck, was not going to be heard by no one else besides the two of you.

With your hand still in his balls, giving extra pleasure and squeezing them at the same time you stroked them, the amount of pre cum inside your mouth started to double the amount, and you knew that he was close, especially as his thrusts grew more and more, along with his breath, that now was preventing him from making a coherent word.

“I-I will- I will- Fuck, fuck!” Phainon moaned shamelessly, fucking your mouth. “You’re so good, so good,” He moaned your name, hearing you slightly gag around him. “Yes, yes.”

His moans were so pretty and delicious to hear. To know that someone like Phainon was completely unraveling above you, but because of you, and of how you made him feel, was so satisfying to hear and watch. To watch his glossy, pretty blue eyes unfocused and his cock grow heavier and heavier inside your mouth. To know that he was about to unload his cum deep down your throat and you could do nothing besides simply accepting it.

And accept, swallow and moan at the taste, you did.

The moment he started to throw loads and loads of cum deep in your throat, you moaned at the taste and swallowed around him harsher than before, focused on milking him until his very last drop. It was funny, how you were treating his cock as a lollipop, sucking so desperately for the flavor to be in your mouth.

Phainon continued twitching inside your mouth, and you were growing suspicious, thinking that he would soon lose strength in his legs if he kept shaking like the way he currently was, together with the deep breaths he was giving as if he had run a marathon.

You did not leave his cock right away, no. You licked him clean, slurped and swallowed any drop that had wanted to leave his cock the moment he removed your mouth around him. You wanted it all, everyday, every time. So, even after licking the last drop of pre cum, you remained with a hand around him, stroking very slowly so as to not overwhelm him.

“You taste so good, Phainon.” You purred, biting your lip, watching as the man started to become scarlet from his neck and cheeks.

“Hah-” Phainon exhaled, looking down at you and caressing your face as you finally let go of his cock, kissing his thigh and fingers. “You.. You ruined me.”

Smirking, you got up, ignoring the wet uncomfortable sensation in between your legs. “Good.” And then caressed his cheek, cooing as he rested the weight of his cheek in the palm of your hand. “Because if you allow me, you will be mine, and I will be yours.”

He looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

“Yes.” With a breath that looked as if he was stealing air just to mutter these words just for you. “I’d like that.”

a/n: let me know if there is any mistakes <3 wrote this in a frenzy in the last hour, and its 4 am where i currently am lmao

#phainon x reader #phainon smut #phainon x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #phainon honkai star rail #phainon #HSR #honkai star rail x reader

379 notes · View notes