#like even this line he definitely either mumbled or whispered

[littlegochu]

"just friends" part 7 │ jjk 18+

"no feelings. no promises. just a night that didn’t end when it should’ve."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: friends with benefits, cold male lead, cold female lead

rating: 18+, smut

synopsis: we weren’t close. just mutuals. he was mia’s boyfriend’s friend — always quiet, always there, always looking like he didn’t care about anything. then we hooked up once. and then again. now it’s late-night texts, locked doors, and pretending not to look at each other during group hangouts. no feelings. no rules. just whatever this is. and yeah, maybe i’m in too deep — but if he is too, he’s not saying it either.

-

“another one, another!”

mira’s uncle slams his shot glass down, some auntie shoves a lime wedge into my palm— i’m already halfway drunk with the burn of the last shot still sitting hot in my chest.

its been a few hours since we had dinner, but the night just started. the air smells like charred meat and the folding tables covered in red solo cups and torn napkins.

mira’s cheeks are pink, her lip gloss smudged, eyes shiny. she’s laughing so hard she has to hold onto the back of a chair, her whole body shaking as she yells something at leon across the lawn.

jimin’s lounging in a deck chair, one leg thrown over the armrest, he’s watching the chaos unfold with a lazy smirk on his lips, eyes flicking between me and the tequila bottle in my hand. he lifts a shot glass toward me, eyebrows raised, taunting.

“y/n’s up again!” someone calls.

mira's family is fun to be around, they love playing with out alcohol tolerances and testing our limits, finding entertainment in our sanity.

i down the tequila, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth and laughing through the burn, my cheeks aching.

i turn to see him.

jungkook.

leaning in the porch doorway, just watching.

black hoodie pulled halfway over his hair, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. his hands are tucked under his arms, his tattoos piercing in the porch light.

there’s a line between his brows, his lips definitely not relaxed.

the only calm thing in a room full of chaos.

and suddenly, i feel stupid and loud.

his eyes meet mine for a second, he looks away before i can figure out what’s in them.

i look down.

he just leans there, quiet, looking out over the yard. i step up onto the wooden stair, and it creaks under my weight. he doesn’t speak.

“you’re not drinking?” i ask, voice too soft.

he doesn’t look at me. “no.”

“why not?”

“don’t want to.”

“…lame,” i mumble, hugging the hoodie sleeves over my palms.

his voice is low, barely audible over the music in the distance. “you look like you’re having enough fun for the both of us.”

i narrow my eyes. “was that sarcasm?”

he shrugs, then walks inside.

i scoff, "dickhead."

-

i don’t even remember how i get here.

the night is calm and everyone's outside sleeping, they've insisted on taking a quick nap before going back to drinking. meanwhile me, i'm too tired from this, mentally and physically.

my head feels full of static, my feet are bare and cold on the hardwood floor.

i stop outside his door.

the light underneath is still on.

i don’t knock.

i just… stare, long enough to hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

but then the door creaks open, he's in a loose white shirt that clings slightly at the collarbones, hangs soft over the waistband of his sweats. his expression’s hard to read—but it’s not angry, not confused, unreadable.

i blink up at him.

“hey,” i whisper.

he doesn’t say anything at first.

then, quietly—“you’re drunk.”

“a little.”

“y/n,” he says, firmer this time, low and steady, like he’s warning me.

“i just…” i trail off. suddenly too aware of how close we are. i notice how his room smells faintly like that same woodsy scent that was wrapped around me those past nights. “i didn’t wanna be in there.”

his brow furrows. “why?”

i shrug. “everyone’s passed out. mira’s snoring. leon’s face-planted into a bag of chips. i didn’t feel like being alone.”

he doesn’t answer.

so i do something stupid.

i reach for him.

arms going up, trying to curl around his neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. (used to be.)

but i don’t get far.

his hands are suddenly on my upper arms—firm, steady, stopping me in place. his grip isn’t rough, but it’s not soft either.

his voice drops. “don’t.”

my heart kicks hard in my chest. “what?”

“you’re drunk,” he says again, but this time it’s quieter, thicker.

“so?”

he swallows, his eyes flick to my mouth for a second.

“so... don’t do that.”

we stay like that—me half-reaching, him half-holding me away—until i drop my arms slowly and step back.

i nod. try not to let my face fall.

“okay,” i mumble. “sorry. that was—stupid.”

i turn like i’m gonna walk away, but his hand doesn’t drop, it stays curled lightly around my arm, and i stop again.

his thumb brushes the inside of my elbow.

“you can stay,” he says, finally.

i blink.

“but behave.”

i almost laugh. “you think i’m gonna jump you or something?”

his eyes meet mine—dark, unreadable.

he doesn’t answer.

instead, he steps aside and holds the door open.

i step past him into the room, it’s dim, only one warm lamp on by the dresser. his bed’s half made, his cologne’s in the air, subtle but strong—spice, wood, something low and smoky.

he shuts the door behind us.

i crawl under the blanket, hoodie sleeves still swallowing my hands.

i curl into my side facing the wall, pretending i’m not holding my breath.

the bed dips.

he lies down beside me, i can feel the heat from his body.

and then—

i think i dream it.

his hand. slow. hesitant. finding my hip through the blanket.

but then he moves, gliding up over my waist, careful and light, like he’s afraid of breaking me.

i blink at the wall.

my breath hitches.

his palm presses warm between my shoulder blades, fingers flexing.

his thumb brushes the back of my hoodie.

i let out a slow, shaky breath and sink further into the mattress. maybe into him. maybe into nothing at all. i'm too drunk to notice.

his hand keeps moving up, then down. slow, careful strokes like he’s trying to soothe me.

my eyes flutter.

his chest is behind me now. close. almost. maybe. i can’t tell.

everything’s foggy. soft.

his nose brushes the back of my hair.

i press back instinctively — into the heat, the scent of him.

he doesn’t pull away.

his arm tightens around my waist. not possessive.

his thumb moves against my side again. slow circles.

my lashes flutter. my mind stutters.

i think i hear him whisper something.

my fingers curl around the hem of the hoodie, tucking it tighter into my chest.

the room tilts again, gently this time.

and then i let go.

of the ache, the weight, the questions.

of everything but the warmth wrapped around me.

because whether it’s real or not? whether he means it or not?

tonight, he’s holding me.

and right now, that’s enough.

-

until it isn’t.

i blink once. twice.

everything feels warm. too warm.

my mouth’s dry. my face is half-buried in the pillow. and something — someone — is wrapped around me.

but somewhere in the middle of the night, i stir.

my stomach twists. like it’s pressing down on my ribs. the kind of pressure that makes your mouth water in the worst way.

i hold my breath as i peel the blanket back and untangle myself. my head spins a little when i sit up, vision soft around the edges.

my knees hit the floor in front of the toilet.

i barely manage to tie my hair up before it hits.

everything comes up in one miserable rush.

alcohol. bad decisions. shame.

i squeeze my eyes shut, until—

“hey.”

his voice is soft. barely audible.

he crouches beside me, i feel his hand brush against the back of my neck, gentle as he gathers my hair and holds it out of the way.

i’m still catching my breath when he speaks again.

“you okay?”

i nod. lying.

i rest my cheek on my arm, still folded across the toilet seat. i feel disgusting, and yet he’s still here.

still holding my hair.

“you didn’t have to do this,” i whisper, eyes half-lidded.

he doesn’t answer right away, he just runs his hand down my back once, slow and soothing.

“someone had to,” he says.

i turn my head slightly, enough to glance at him over my shoulder.

he looks tired, his lips parted like he was about to say something else, hair messy from sleep.

he’s too pretty for a night like this.

“why are you doing this?” i ask.

his eyes flick to mine, his voice is low when he answers.

“you’re done. come here.”

he stands up with a slight smirk, he looks toward the bed in his room.

i blink slowly at him.

“get in bed before i carry you.”

...

“last chance.”

i roll my eyes but take his hand.

he hauls me up like i weigh nothing, his palm finding my lower back to keep me steady.

he walks me to the bed — slow, patient, fingers brushing my wrist in the most annoyingly gentle way.

i crawl in like a kid and he pulls the blanket over me and clicks the bathroom light off.

the air feels warmer now, heavier. or maybe that’s just me—heart still thudding from being so close to him, from letting him see me like that.

jungkook walks back around the bed, wordless, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows again. his forearm veins flex a little when he runs a hand through his hair. he sits on the edge of the mattress, sighs, then leans over to grab something from the nightstand.

he holds it out a bottle of water wordlessly.

i sip without sitting up, lips brushing the rim. his fingers graze mine when i hand it back.

“you’re not as mean as you pretend to be,” i mumble.

he glances over his shoulder and raises a brow. “don’t start.”

“you offered to carry me, sweet."

he gives me a long, unreadable look, then leans back on one hand beside me, eyes dragging over my face.

“you’re chatty when you’re tipsy.”

i blink at him. “you’re warm when you’re not pretending.”

his mouth curves, barely. “don’t do that,” he murmurs.

“what?”

“say things like that.”

i pause. the air stills.

my mouth opens. then closes.

he exhales. starts to pull back—

but i reach for his sleeve.

“jungkook.”

he pauses.

i tug gently. “can you just… shut up for a second?”

he doesn’t move. doesn’t speak.

so i sit up, hoodie swallowing my hands, and I lean in a little closer.

he watches me carefully—still unreadable. his scent makes my head spin more than the tequila.

i reach up slowly, careful, fingers brushing the side of his neck.

he stares at me.

he leans in.

his hand finds my jaw, thumb gentle under my cheek. his lips brush mine once, slow, like he's testing if he can keep going.

i breathe him in.

and then he kisses me again.

slower this time. deeper.

his fingers slide behind my neck, his other hand curling around my hip, pulling me toward him like it’s instinct. like he’s been waiting to.

i shift into his lap, knees tucked beside his thighs. our foreheads press together for a moment between kisses—breathing heavy, breaths mingling.

he exhales shakily against my mouth. “you’re gonna regret this.”

“don't we always do this?”

do we? i'm not really sure anymore.

for something that happened so often during the school year suddenly disappeared the same time we walked out of our last exam.

but was that the whole plan?

i kiss him again before he can answer.

he doesn’t stop me.

authors note: hey im back! just lost some motivation since the engagement of my posts have gone down, id really love to hear some requests from you guys! also I've been busy with work and everything but trust me i wont disappear without finishing this ff!

[isamoa]

“ WHAT GETS THEM HARD! ”

jjk men x f!reader ࿐ MDNI.

ᰔ、summary. jjk scenarios on how their dicks get hard ofc

ᰔ、tags. (ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso), nsfw, female anatomy, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, sexting, masturbation, etc.

ᰔ、a/n. these are just my silly depictions. if u dont agree idgaf lol

SATORU GOJO has the dirtiest mind and the highest sex drive. his pants definitely start feeling a little tighter at the sight of you eating a popsicle or something. specifically in public. he would have no shame in it either—casually forming a smirk on his face and dropping a snarky innuendo about the way you’re eating. “can you suck me off like that when we get home?” he’d mumble from across the table, his eyes peeking out from the top of his glasses, a smirk plastered on his lips; wet from the constant licking of his tongue. your eyes widen, a small ‘pop’ sounding from your mouth when you took the frozen sweet out to gasp at the man in front of you. “gojo! are you serious?” you’d yell in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone had heard him. “you’re right,” he’d sigh, standing up from his chair to reveal the very prominent and very obvious bulge in his pants. “we should just do it now.”

SUGURU GETO on the other hand is a polite man. like satoru, he’s a real freak in the sheets—but not as shamelessly. the littlest things can get him hard for sure, but unintentionally seeing your undergarments would really get him going. like an accidental peek at your panties from under your skirt, or a shirt thats a little too see-through showing off the print on your bra. he wouldn’t say anything of course, not right away. you would just be minding your own business one minute and then he’s dragging you towards the bedroom the next. “sugu- what are you-?” you would ask in a confusing tone, craning your head to look at the said man who was now behind you—pushing your stomach up against the countertop; a single hand brought up to grope your breast while the other laid flat against your hip. “your bra is showing.” he’d let you know blankly; an attempt to distract you while his hand slid it’s way into your pants. you would look down in response to his comment, noticing that your bra was in-fact showing like he said. unfortunately for him, you also already noticed the hardon pressed against your back.

TOJI FUSHIGURO gets hard from eating pussy. simple as that. he will get embarrassingly sloppy—juices coating his face and dripping down his chin, loving every second of it while his cock slowly grows harder. emphasis on grows. and if you think for a second that he does it for your pleasure, think again. this man will eat you out purely for his enjoyment only. his eyes are closed and his hands are squeezing at your thighs—legs thrashing uncontrollably from the uncomfortable pressure in his pants that’s about to come undone. “toji- let me help you.” you’d beg with a whimper, dragging your hand from the top of his head down to his cheek when you noticed the constant shuffling of his legs and the crease in his eyebrow. he’d laugh darkly, the breathy snicker creating a hum between your core that made a whine escape from your lips. “im fine mama,” he’ll say cockily, pulling a hand away from your leg to undo his zipper. “ill cum soon, you don’t gotta do ‘nun.”

CHOSO is a needy guy. his face will turn red at a simple flirty text—but send him a slutty pic and he might just cream his pants. fully naked or dressed in lingerie, his favorite or not, he will definitely feel some pressure down below. he might ignore you for a while, uncertain on how he should reply; if he’s even able to. “fuck- couldn’t wait till i got home, could you?” he’d whine quietly, trying his best to keep his voice down from the bathroom of his office job; one hand holding the phone up to his ear while the other rushed to unbuckle his belt. “sorry cho,” you’d apologize from the other line, voice rather faint as you posed for another picture to send him. “when are you coming?” you ask doubtfully just as his phone vibrates with another notification from your contact. “now- im comin’ now baby.” he replies with a huff, phone almost slipping from his ear. “really!?” you try to clarify—much more excited than the first time. “no, i mean im cumming. right now.”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Toy (Wolverine)

Description: Logan is pissed and takes it out on Y/N, sexually.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 988

Request: what if logan came home from a rough mission and jus took all that anger out on y/n 🤭🤭🤭

Logan was fuming, I mean he was pissed. Wade and him went on a mission and it almost didn’t go their way. Wade being Wade had to be joking and laughing during the mission but Logan wasn’t in the mood. Nothing about killing those guys was funny but Wade had to make it. His fingers gripped the wheel so hard he was turning red.

His face was red, hell his dick was even red at this point. He couldn’t wait to get home and fuck his little toy. Y/N was in for a treat when he got back. He didn’t care if Wade heard or even watched. He just needed to let off some steam. He was so in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Wade trying to talk to him, “What?” He snapped at the merc. “I was just saying that we should have Tacos tonight.” Wade said and Logan rolled his eyes, “Yeah sure whatever.” He didn’t care about dinner right now.

Only Y/N’s sweet tight pussy. The ride home felt like forever but when they got back he didn’t even turn the car off, he just stormed into the apartment. Y/N sat on the couch watching TV when Logan came in and oh did he look mad. She quickly got up, “What’s wrong?” She asked him but he ignored her and threw her over his shoulder ignoring her protest. He took her to his room not caring about the door being shut or not. He threw her on the bed and she stared up at him in shock and lust.

He pulled her legs to the end of the bed and pulled down her sweats, “I need to taste this pussy.” He growled and yanked her panties down. The fresh scent of her arousal hit his nose as her pussy was now bare to him and wetter than ever. He wasted no time and shoved his face in between her legs causing her to moan out. He placed both hands on each thigh to make sure she doesn’t close around his head. She threw her head back as she felt his tongue explore her with all his might. He was mad, so furious with the mission and this was the only way he could let it out without getting violent.

It was either this or kill Wade. Her hands laced themselves in his hair and he growled against her causing a vibration to shoot through her body. She whined his name and started to move her hips but he held her in place. He was grunting and growling against her pussy like an animal. “So wet.” He mumbled against her. “Mine.” She enjoyed him being possessive and didn’t dare to ask why he was like this. “Logan fuck baby. You’re so good.” She praised him.

His grip on her thighs tightened and she hissed at the pain. It was definitely gonna leave a bruise or two. His nose started bumping against her clit on the perfect angle. It was over from there. She was cumming and screaming his name. Her eyes were rolled back and he never slowed for a minute until she struggled against him to push him away. She looked at him and her jaw dropped. His mouth was covered in her slick and he wore a dangerous smirk. Hair all messy from her grabbing it. He looked sexy.

He stood up without a word and got undressed. She was in awe at the sight of his abs. His abs were perfect and it made her pussy pulse. He crawled on top of her and growled, “Are you gonna take it like a good girl?” Of course she was. She had never been more turned on in her life. She nodded and he grabbed her face, “Say it.” He demanded. “Yes.” She whispered. “Good.” He said and lined his thick cock up with her entrance. He sighed at how great her pussy was and how it held him. She whimpered at the feeling of being stretched out by such a big cock. “Fuck, you have the perfect pussy sweet girl. Love it so much.” He bottomed out and smirked.

She stared up at him with want and even though he was being rough with her. She wanted it and so much more. He started thrusting rough and hard, completely taking her breath away. She was gasping and moaning. She could hardly keep her eyes open. “Eyes on me, doll.” He said and she opened them. They made eye contact and he smirked at her again. Her mouth was open and all types of pornographic noises were leaving her mouth for him. “Fuck.” He grunted and closed his eyes.

She stared up at him and watched his face fall into a pleasurable expression. He was so hot. He was rearranging her guts and all she wanted to do was kiss him. So she did. The kiss wasn’t passionate or soft, it was rough and messy. He was twitching inside of her after a few minutes, “Fuck i’m close baby. I’m gonna fill you up.” He warned her and she nodded. “Please Lo, please cum in me. I need it so bad.” Her words egged him on even more. They had never talked like this to each other before. “Yeah sweet girl. I can feel that pussy wanting to cum too. Cum for me baby.” Her pussy clenched around him and he came hard.

She gasped loudly and she came with him. Her hips slowly moved to ride out their orgasms before he collapsed next to her out of breath. “Shit.” She said and looked over at him. “The mission sucked ass and Wade pissed me off.” He told her and she nodded, “Glad I could be of help.” She said, He turned towards her and pulled her on top of him, “You’re my sweet toy to use and to play with. Never forget that.”

[viaxslz]

. 【 ARRANGED ℳARRIAGE 】

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 !reader, cw: arranged marriage au, slight angst, fluff (ig), kissing, strangers to lovers (if that’s what they call it), super duber long (ok might not disappear but who knows), not proofread :P, hyung line ver.

HAN

Han Jisung –(aka husband who swears he’s not panicking while definitely panicking) From the moment you said “I do,” Han Jisung looked like he was fighting for his life. He was sweating through his suit, grinning way too wide, and stuttering so much during the vows that the officiant asked him twice if he was under duress. You weren’t thrilled about the arranged marriage either. You didn’t know each other, didn’t choose each other, and for the first few weeks, it showed. The atmosphere in your shared home was polite but tense like two interns accidentally assigned the same group project, silently wondering who would flake first. Jisung tried his best. He’d attempt conversation over breakfast: “Do you… like toast?” “I mean, of course you like toast, who doesn’t like toast—wait, are you gluten-free? Should I die?” “Sorry. That was dramatic. I’ll stop talking. Unless you want me to talk. Then I’ll talk forever.” You stared at him like he was a sitcom character that got lost on the way to his own show. The man was nervous. Constantly. He’d bump into chairs and say “sorry” to them. He’d knock on the bathroom door even when it was clearly open. He’d rehearse things in his room before saying them to you. One night you overheard: “Hey, Y/N, how was your day? No, too fake. Try again. Okay—Hey, Y/N! How’s the weather in your heart tod—no. Ew. What the hell.” You almost laughed. Almost. But the truth is, Jisung wasn’t acting. He was just genuinely trying. Genuinely overwhelmed. Genuinely scared of screwing up something that had already started with zero consent or choice. One night, you came home exhausted from work, dropped your bag on the floor, and groaned into your hands. Jisung, who had been pretending to study something on his laptop, panicked. “Oh my god. Did someone yell at you? Did you eat today? Did a bird attack you again?” “…Again?” He scrambled into the kitchen like a sitcom wife from the ‘50s, muttering, “I can cook—I mean, I can microwave—no wait, I made eggs once without the shell—wait, do you like eggs??” You burst out laughing. You didn’t mean to, but it just happened. And Jisung froze, blinking like he’d just won a Grammy. “…Was that a laugh? Did I do that? Did I—should I bottle this moment? Is this my peak?” You couldn’t stop. You laughed until you cried, and he stood there, looking both victorious and deeply confused. That broke the wall. After that, everything became easier. You talked more. Shared dumb jokes. Started watching random shows together at night while Jisung made running commentary like: “If they kiss now I’m suing.” “I relate to this character deeply. He’s tired and scared and emotionally repressed. Sexy.” You noticed he was actually really smart. Quick-witted. Sensitive. And kind. Like the kind of kind that doesn’t make a show of it, he just does things. He once quietly fixed your phone charger without telling you. Left sticky notes on your notebook when you had a stressful day. Learned how to make your favorite comfort food just in case. But he never crossed a line. Never forced closeness. Just waited. Patiently. Softly. Then, one rainy night, you found him asleep on the couch. Hugging a pillow. Mumbling in his sleep: “Y/N… don’t leave…” You froze. The next morning, he woke up to you making breakfast. He shuffled into the kitchen, hair a mess, eyes still puffy. “Morning…” You turned around. “Why would I leave?” He blinked. “Wait. Huh?” You walked up, poked his chest gently. “You were talking in your sleep. You said not to leave.” Jisung turned red in real-time. “I—I—NO I—THAT WAS A DREAM—NO—IT WAS A QUOTE—I WAS REHEARSING A LINE—IT’S FOR A PLAY—SHAKESPEARE. YEAH.” You laughed and kissed his cheek. He stopped breathing. You whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered, “I think I love you.” Then screamed into a pillow.

Now? Jisung still panics over toast. Still practices conversations in the shower. Still dramatically falls to the floor if you compliment him too sincerely. But he also wraps his arms around you at night like he never wants to let go. Says “I love you” like it’s a reflex. Like it’s the air he breathes. Your marriage may have been arranged. But the love? That part was his choice. And every single day, he keeps choosing you awkwardly, dramatically, wholeheartedly.

FELIX

Felix – (aka sunshine husband who has no idea how to act cold so he just gives you cookies instead) You expected a lot of things from an arranged marriage. tension, silence, maybe even mild resentment. What you didn’t expect was a man with a literal Tupperware container of homemade brownies on your wedding night, shyly holding them out like a peace offering.“Hi… um. I baked these. I don’t know how to start conversations so… chocolate?” You stared at him. He stared back, looking like a golden retriever that got dropped into a corporate meeting by accident. The beginning was awkward, of course. You weren’t strangers, but you weren’t close either. You tiptoed around each other in the house, always polite, always a bit too careful like roommates who accidentally got married and didn’t want to make it weird. Felix, for his part, was trying. So hard. Too hard, honestly. He’d overthink everything. “Do you want me to knock before entering the kitchen?” “Is it okay if I call you… uh… your name?” “I organized the pantry alphabetically. Is that weird? Should I undo it?” You: “I just wanted cereal.” But then came the baking. It started small, a cookie here, a muffin there. Then suddenly it was “surprise banana bread Tuesday” and “midnight croissant therapy.” You’d wake up to little notes by the coffee machine: “Today might be rough, so I made cinnamon rolls. You got this.” “Don’t forget to eat, okay? There’s matcha cake in the fridge. Love, not-so-legally-your-husband.” And that’s the thing about Felix. He wasn’t trying to impress you. He just cared. Genuinely, openly, maybe even recklessly. You caught feelings faster than you were willing to admit. How were you supposed to not fall for the man who learned your coffee order by week two, remembered your deadlines better than you did, and looked at you like the sun was doing him a personal favor by existing through you? Still, neither of you really acknowledged the shift. He stayed sweet. You stayed guarded. And your house became this soft little bubble of tension-filled domesticity, where nothing happened but everything was happening. Then one night, you had a breakdown. Work was suffocating, your family was pressuring you about the marriage, and you just… snapped. You stormed into the kitchen, tired and overwhelmed, and finally said it: “This wasn’t supposed to be real, okay? You weren’t supposed to be nice. You weren’t supposed to make me feel like this was a home.” Felix looked like you’d punched him in the chest. Slowly, he set down the cake batter he was mixing. “…Do you want it to be real?” You: “What?” “This marriage. Us. I… I know we didn’t choose this. But I wake up and think about you. I go to sleep hoping you had a good day. I bake because it’s the only way I know how to show you that I care without scaring you off.” You didn’t say anything. He smiled, sad and small. “I didn’t want to make this harder for you. But if being nice made it worse, I’ll stop—” You kissed him. You pulled back. “Sorry. Was that—” “Do it again.” Now? Felix still bakes at 2 a.m. Still writes notes on the fridge. Still organizes the pantry like a spreadsheet. But he also kisses your temple before you leave the house. Holds your hand during grocery runs like he’s afraid to let go. Whispers, “I know we didn’t choose this but if I had to do it again, I’d still choose you.” The marriage might’ve started with a contract. But the love? That came frosted, warm, and wrapped in a Tupperware full of effort. And you’ve been choosing him back ever since.

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin – (aka the emotionally constipated husband who shows affection by roasting you into submission) You didn’t expect him to be warm. Honestly, you would’ve been suspicious if he was. Seungmin greeted you on your wedding day with a polite nod and the emotional availability of a tax form. No smile. No small talk. Just a: “I’ll take the guest room. Don’t leave your dishes in the sink.” Romantic. At first, it was like living with a very tidy ghost who silently judged you for breathing too loud. You tried initiating conversation, but all you got were one-word replies: “Good morning.” “…Morning.” “How was work?” “Fine.” “Do you need anything from the store?” “Decency.” You were this close to throwing a pillow at him. Or a toaster. Whichever was closer. But you noticed something strange. Despite the deadpan sarcasm and constant eye-rolling, he… listened. Mentioned once that you liked strawberry yogurt? Magically appeared in the fridge. Said you had a meeting on Thursday? He reminded you like a snarky Google calendar. Offhandedly said your back hurt? There was a hot pack on your desk the next morning. But when you tried to thank him, he’d brush it off with: “I didn’t do it for you. I just hate hearing you complain.” Uh-huh. Sure. Over time, the silence shifted. It didn’t feel tense anymore just… calm. Comfortable, even. You started eating meals at the same time. Watching the same dramas on opposite ends of the couch. Bickering like a married couple without actually being one. You: “You know, if you smiled once in a while, you’d be kind of cute.” Seungmin: “If you talked less, I might live longer.” You: “You love me.” Seungmin: “Blink twice if you’re hallucinating.” But he didn’t move away when you scooted closer on the couch. Didn’t object when you started doing laundry together. Didn’t stop you when you fell asleep on his shoulder one night and mumbled, “Don’t leave.” He just sat there, tense for a moment… then relaxed, and whispered, almost too softly to hear: “I won’t.” That was the beginning. One night, you found him in the kitchen at 1 a.m., making ramen and quietly humming. You padded over in your socks, leaned against the counter, and mumbled, “Did you ever want this? Us?” He didn’t look at you right away. “No.” Ouch. “But now that I have it… I don’t want anyone else.” You blinked. “That was weirdly romantic for you.” He shoved a spoonful of ramen into your mouth. “Shut up before I take it back.” Now? Seungmin still teases you mercilessly. Still roasts you in front of your own plants. Still rolls his eyes when you do something mildly annoying and mutters, “This is why I should’ve married a cactus.” But he also tucks you in when you fall asleep on the couch. Picks up your favorite snacks without being asked. Keeps one of your hair ties on his wrist and pretends it’s not a big deal. He’s not loud with love. Not obvious. Not flowery. But he’s consistent. And in the end, being loved by Seungmin feels like this: No grand speeches. No dramatic confessions. Just someone who stays. Quietly, steadily. And never lets go.

JEONGIN

Jeongin –(aka the flustered baby husband who talks back but blushes when you talk nice) Jeongin walked into the arranged marriage like a man headed to war. Not dramatic at all. Except he was dramatic about it. Silently, of course. He was young, successful, trying to prove himself in his field and suddenly he was being told, “Surprise! You’re getting married to someone you barely know. Smile for the wedding photos!” He did not smile. He grimaced. Your first few days of married life were… quiet. Not hostile, just awkward. You felt like you were both house-sitting the same apartment with unspoken rules and polite small talk. You’d pass each other in the hallway like coworkers forced onto the same project. “Hey.” “Hey.” “Did you eat?” “Kind of. You?” “Cool.” Silence. But Jeongin wasn’t cold just reserved. You caught him staring sometimes. Not in a creepy way. More like he was trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to be a husband when he still googled how to fix a leaky faucet and forgot to switch his laundry. He wasn’t emotionally constipated just emotionally under construction. And then the sarcasm kicked in. Jeongin, once he got comfortable, became the king of side-eyes and muttered jabs. “Oh wow, you’re cooking? Should I call the fire department now or later?” “You fell asleep watching that drama again. I took a picture. It’s blackmail now.” “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I have to like your taste in socks.” But you noticed something interesting. He’d grumble when you asked him to do something but he’d still do it. He’d tease you for being forgetful but he never forgot your schedule. He’d pretend to be too cool but blushed like crazy when you complimented his shirt. And when you started teasing him back? Oh, he short-circuited. You: “You look good today, husband.” Jeongin: blinking rapidly “Wh—pft—I—shut up.” You: “Are you blushing?” Jeongin: “NO. You’re just standing near something red.” You: “i’m standing next to you.” Jeongin: “……” It became a routine. Casual affection buried in banter. Emotional intimacy hiding behind post-it notes and shared ramen bowls at midnight. He made a habit of waiting for you to get home before he went to bed. You made a habit of telling him everything you liked about him just to watch him get flustered. Eventually, something changed. One night, you were curled up on opposite ends of the couch, and you casually asked, “Do you still wish this never happened?” He stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then, without looking at you: “At first, yeah. I thought it’d ruin my life.” Pause. “…But then you walked in. And you didn’t try to change me. You just… stayed. And now, I don’t know what I’d do if you left.” You looked at him, heart thumping. He turned to you, cheeks pink. “This is the only time I’m being soft. If you bring this up tomorrow, I’ll deny everything.” You didn’t bring it up. But you did kiss him. And he kissed you back like someone who finally figured out what home felt like. Now? Jeongin still talks back. Still gets flustered when you say “my husband” too easily. Still pretends he’s too cool to cuddle until he’s asleep on your chest with his hand fisted in your hoodie like a security blanket. He’ll tease you in public. Laugh at your clumsiness. Say things like: “Wow, imagine marrying someone like you.” And when you pout, he’ll smirk and lean in real close. “…Lucky me.” He might not have chosen this at the beginning. But he’s choosing you now every single day.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Rise and Shine 

Zayne x reader

Summary: You're not a morning person, and Zayne is the one who has to make sure you get up

Words: 650

Notes: This idea was requested:

Could you write something about Zayne x Reader/MC, where Zayne wakes up the reader to go to work every day? I'm not a morning person, but I'm supposed to start my shift at 7 AM, so I hope this can give me motivation to wake up early

I absolutely love it <3 I’m definitely not a morning person either, so I had a blast writing this.

Hope you like it, anon! 😊

English is not my first language

Masterlist

The alarm went off at 5:45 AM.

You didn’t even flinch. Didn’t register the way the bed suddenly had more space—and was more cold—as Zayne slipped out from under the covers with the practiced ease of someone who actually knew how to function in the morning. He never had trouble getting up, never lingered in bed like it was the last safe place on Earth.  No groaning, no dragging of feet. Just up and moving like it wasn’t an act of pure self-betrayal.

You envied that about him. Deeply.

It was the same ritual every morning.

A gentle knock. Followed by silence. Then a second, slightly louder knock.

“It's almost six,” Zayne’s voice murmured through the door.  “You’ve got a shift in an hour, remember?”

You groaned into your pillow, dragging the blanket tighter around you like it could shield you from time itself. The sun wasn’t even fully up. Why should you?

He didn’t wait for a response. The door creaked open, and you could hear the soft shuffle of his steps across the floor.

“You’re not dead, right?” he asked, mock-serious, as the edge of the bed dipped under his weight. “Because that would really ruin my day.”

You cracked one eye open, your voice a scratchy croak. “You say that like dragging me out of bed doesn’t ruin your day.”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. His touch was pleasant, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world just to coax you into consciousness.

“No. It’s my favorite part, actually.” 

There was something in the way he said it—simple, sure. As if watching you slowly blink your way back into the world was a sacred act, he wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Seriously?” you mumbled, already trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of your cocoon, as if sheer willpower could keep you safe from responsibility.

“Mm-hmm.” He leaned in, voice dropping into that familiar conspiratorial whisper that always made your heart betray you just a little. “You make these adorable little grumpy noises. Like an angry cat. It’s weirdly endearing.”

You released a soft, exasperated sigh in protest.

Then came the betrayal. Without warning, a steady hand reached out and swiftly tugged the blanket down from over your head, exposing you to the unpleasant chill of the morning air. 

“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to wake up.”

You groaned dramatically, clutching at the blankets like they were your last line of defense against the cruel, cruel world. “Five more minutes…” you mumbled into the sheets, already knowing it was a losing battle.

Zayne arched a brow, clearly not buying it. “You always say that,” he replied, his tone shifting—still gentle, but firmer now, more insistent. “You’re going to be late.”

You peeked up at him, utterly unrepentant.  “I don't care.”

Zayne let out a quiet laugh, the kind that said of course you’d say that. It was the sound of someone who’d long since accepted that this was just who you were in the morning: dramatic, half-feral, and completely impossible to reason with.

His fingers gave your cheek one last affectionate brush before he stood, the mattress bouncing slightly as his weight left it.

“I know, I know,” he said with the long-suffering patience of someone who’d lived through this exact exchange too many times to count. “But I made you coffee. And breakfast. Your favorite, even.”

You didn’t move, burying yourself deeper in the blankets, a defiant little rebel against the inevitable.

“You’ve got five minutes before I come back with cold hands.”

Your body went rigid beneath the covers.

He wouldn’t.

Zayne turned toward the door, calm as ever.

“Oh, I would.” His voice was low, almost teasing, as he paused in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, and that small, knowing smirk curved at the edge of his mouth.

And just like that, the clock started ticking.

[the-internets-girlfriend]

The Gang Tried to Set Us Up - George Clarke

George Clarke x Reader (1.2k+ words)

Everyone in the group knows Y/N and George like each other – except them. From cozy nights to “totally random camping trips”, their friends try everything to get them together.

warnings: idiots in love, shared bed trope,

masterlist x | this one-shot is based off this request here x

Movie Night (ft. The Beanbag Trap)

I should’ve known something was up when Chris took one look at the living room and said, “nope. Bad layout, vibes are off.”

That’s the exact moment I became suspicious.

Still, I didn’t clock it fully until Becky basically shoved me onto the deflated beanbag in the centre of the room. “You can see the TV better from here,” she chirped, which was a bold-faced lie since the TV was literally at an angle.

Then George wandered in, bowl of popcorn in hand, and Chris – helpful Chris – patted the beanbag next to me and said, “plenty of room there, mate.”

The thing is, there wasn’t plenty of room. The beanbag was ancient and slumped like a deflated souffle. The second George sat down; I rolled toward him like a magnet. Our knees bumped. My arms brushed his. Our thighs touched.

He froze, I froze harder.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not moving away.

“It’s okay,” I said. Not moving either.

Becky shot me a look from across the room and popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth with a smirk so smug I wanted to throw a cushion at her.

For the next two hours, we sat like that – far too close, quietly pretending not to notice. I could feel the heat of George’s skin through the hoodie. I caught him glancing at me during quiet parts of the film, and once, when I laughed, I swear he smiled just from hearing it.

We didn’t talk about it afterward.

Of course we didn’t.

Game Night Shenanigans

“Lets do a challenge game!” Issac announced like a man who definitely hadn’t planned it for days. “It’s like a couples game, Except we’re not doing couples… justs random teams.”

“Random,” I repeated, deadpan – already knowing what he was getting at.

He nodded furiously and pulled out a hat – his hat, I noticed.

I didn’t even get to reach in. He just grinned and read the first pairing, “Y/N and... George! What are the odds?”

George looked up from his phone at me, and blinked, “huh, alright then.”

We sat together, facing off against Chris and Arthur Hill, and Arthur Frederick and Isaac. The game was simple: to answer questions about “your partner” and see how well you know them.

First questions; “What’s their favourite song?”

“I Wanna Be Yours, by the Artic Monkeys,” George said, the same moment I answered, “Artic Monkeys – I Wanna Be Yours.” Something said between the lines to each other.

We blinked at each other.

Isaac let out an obnoxious, “OHHHH” sound.

We won every round. Favourite food? He knew mine. I knew his. Pet peeve? Check. Childhood dream job? He even remembered my answer from a conversation we’d had once on a rainy walk back from the pub last year.

By the end, our team name was soulmates, thanks to Arthur Hill shouting it every time we scored a point.

We high-fived, my fingers between his for just a second too long.

One Tent, Two Idiots

“We though there were three tents,” Chris said, feigning concern.

Harry was already passed out in one. Isaac and Arthur were in another, pretending to be asleep. And the last? A two-man tent with two sleeping bags zipped together.

“You okay sharing?’ George asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure,” I said, heartbeat thudding.

It was freezing. Our sleeping bags were zipped as close as possible. The moonlight made the inside of the tent glow faintly silver. i could hear his breathing beside me – steady, almost nervous.

“You awake?” He whispered.

“Mhm.”

“If hypothetically, someone had feelings for someone else in the group – like, really liked them, should they say something? Or… is it too risky?”

I held my breath.

“I think it’d be brave,” I whispered back.

“Okay.”

But in the morning, he didn’t bring it up again. Neither did I.

Cowards, both of us.

The Great Bake-Off Disaster

“Just a fun bake-off,” Becky grinned, already wearing an apron that said kiss the cook.

Isaac stood behind her holding a bowl and what looked like glitter.

“I’ve randomly paired you all up,” she added. “Totally fair. And what a shock—George and Y/N, you’re a team!”

I glared. The name cards were laminated. Laminated.

George looked equally betrayed. “They’ve planned this, haven’t they?”

“Yes,” I muttered, snatching an apron.

We ended up elbow-to-elbow at the kitchen bench. I managed to get flour in my hair, crack an egg wrong, and knock over the icing sugar. George laughed the whole time, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re useless,” he teased, voice warm.

“You’re worse,” I said, tossing a bit of dough at him.

At one point, we were both leaning over the bench to reach something. His hand brushed mine. We didn’t move.

“I like this,” he said quietly.

“Baking?”

“No. This. With you.”

My heart somersaulted. I was about to reply, finally, when Becky shouted “TIME!” and George jumped like he’d been electrocuted.

We didn’t win the bake-off.

We also didn’t talk about that moment.

Again.

The Fake Group Dinner

Chris sent a message that afternoon: Dinner at Luca’s at 7. Everyone coming!

You wore your good jeans and that top George once said looked “really nice” on you—his tone suspiciously shy when he said it. You walked into the restaurant expecting chaos.

Instead, you saw George.

Alone.

At a two-person table, looking like he was about to sprint for the door.

You froze. “Where’s… everyone?”

He cleared his throat. “Funny story. Chris said everyone was coming. But Becky said Chris told her not to come. Isaac said he had plans. And Arthur’s in Devon.”

You blinked.

He shifted in his seat. “We’ve been set up, haven’t we?”

You looked around. The waitress was already heading over with menus and a candle.

“Guess we have,” you said, smiling.

You sat down.

Dinner was… perfect. Easy. Light. You laughed more than you had in weeks. George’s eyes kept flicking to your lips when you talked, which you tried not to notice, except you really did notice.

When dessert came, the waitress placed tiramisu between you with a wink. “For the happy couple.”

George looked like he might combust. “We’re—um—”

You picked up your spoon. “Not correcting her?”

“Definitely not.”

Halfway through the dessert, George set his fork down.

“Y/N,” he said. “I like you. A lot. I’ve liked you for ages. I was just scared. But I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel what I feel when I’m around you.”

Your chest ached.

“George,” you said softly, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

His eyes widened. “Wait—you like me too?”

“I like you, you idiot.”

He laughed, full and warm and startled, like he hadn’t dared hope.

Then he reached across the table and took your hand.

It felt like every missed moment, every unspoken word, had finally been worth it.

The moment you both walked in to George’s apartment – hands still linked – Arthr gasped like he’d just seen a miracle.

Chris stood up on the couch and yelled, “TOLD. YOU. SO.”

Arthur Hill fist-pumped the air. “I WIN THE BET!”

George buried his face in your neck. “We’re never living this down.”

You laughed, “and I don’t care.”

Because finally – finally, the quiet glances and near-confessions were over.

And all it took was four failed setups, one dinner date, and a very loud I told you so.

Hi all,

I was so excited to write this one-shot with it being my first request and I hope it's what you were wanting.

I've been working hard on Secrets in Doncaster, and the next few parts will be out soon... with one hopefully tomorrow!

See you next time,

mwah x

[azzifuddslover]

UNRAVEL - chapter six

യ paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 6.7k

cw: swearing, light sexual content

notes: um… hey! first of all, i’m so sorry for disappearing for like a month. school has been kickin my ass 🥲 anyway, i have been contemplating continuing this series and was so convinced i’d never write again. obviously i decided against that! this chapter really started pickin up the pace and WHAT ABOUT IT. please go easy on me i understand this is awfully written, but keep in mind i haven’t actually wrote anything since early january. lemme know how y’all feel about this chapter, maybe even share ur live reactions? i would love that! enjoy and happy munch madness pookies

soaking up the high of an absolute blowout of a game, paige and azzi walk giddily to the blonde’s apartment, with paige leading the way. their giggles echo throughout the hallway matched with ear to ear grins. paige casually unlocks her apartment door, glances over her shoulder and pulls azzi into the open space by her jersey.

azzi lets out a louder laugh, her dimples popping out as she stumbles into the room. paige places both hands on either side of the brunette, keeping her stable and balanced.

“you played so good today,” paige tells her, locking eye contact.

azzi smiles, her cheeks flushed from both the game and their proximity. “you think so?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

paige’s grin grows at her comment, her eyes softening as she leans in, pressing her lips gently to azzi’s cheek. she moves her hand to cup the back of her head, holding her closer. the contact is light but warm, only causing azzi to flush more.

“yeah,” paige whispers, her voice lower, “you were incredible.”

azzi’s grip on paige’s shirt unknowingly tightens, her body mere inches away from the blonde’s. she ducks her head, suddenly shy.

paige steps backward, dragging azzi with her until they’re both seated on her bed— close enough that their thighs are full on touching. paige’s hand never leaves azzi’s frame.

azzi opens her mouth, eyes searching paige’s face. after a moment of hesitation, she closes it, unsure how to approach this topic.

paige notices— of course— and scrunches her eyebrows. “what’s wrong?”

“what, nothing,” azzi shakes her head, “i just need to tell you something.”

trying not to jump to conclusions, although she can feel her heart begin to race, she says, “okay.”

azzi loosens her grip on paige’s shirt, “someone asked me out on a date.”

definitely not what paige expected— worse, even. “a guy?”

azzi waits a moment before nodding, her lips creating a line.

paige feels a knot form in her stomach, the words hitting her harder than they should— as her best friend. she forces herself to remain calm, her eyes flicking to azzi’s face, searching for any sign of how she’s feeling about it. “what’d you say?”

azzi’s expression is unreadable as she glances away, almost ashamed in a way. “i said yes,” she whispers, “his name’s tyler, he’s pretty nice.”

paige nods, plastering a soft smile on her face regardless of her disappointment. “that’s great, azzi. really. i’m happy for you,” she says, though her voice doesn’t quite match the enthusiasm she’s attempting to project.

azzi looks at her, clearly noticing a subtle shift in paige’s tone. she bites her lip, her gaze continuing to flick between her friend’s face and the floor. “thank you, p,” she mumbles.

silent for a minute, paige clears her throat, “‘course, az,” her voice is gentle. she shifts slightly on the bed, creating a small distance between her and the brunette.

“i think you’d like him,” azzi speaks up, “he’s really sweet. good looking, too,” she exhales a weak laugh.

paige only hums in response, looking down. “maybe,” she agrees, “if you’re happy, that’s all i care about. i just want you happy.”

azzi’s heart swells in her chest at the sincerity behind paige’s words. god. she scoots closer, their thighs brushing against each others once again. the brunette leans in, connecting her full lips to the area below paige’s ear, staying there a second longer then she should.

a pleased sigh escapes paige’s lips, her body tensing from the unexpected closeness.

“love you, p,” azzi mutters, quiet enough that paige is unsure if she said it at all.

instead of responding, paige turns toward azzi, offers a kind smile and stands. “alright, come on,” she holds her hands out for the younger girl; when their hands meet, she tugs her up into a standing position. “let’s get showered and then we can grab some food. sound good?”

azzi nods, already thinking of the food she’s been craving. she feels paige squeeze her hands before dropping them, turning away to find some comfortable clothes.

going through the motions, paige cannot help but feel a sense of unease settle in her chest. it’s not a full blown feeling, but more of a quiet, nagging discomfort she can’t quite shake. azzi has a date. azzi. her best friend. her azzi— going on a date with someone that’s not her.

she shallows dryly, making primal effort to shut these feelings down. it fails, to say the least. her mind continues to wonder back to azzi’s words, almost in a haunting manner. someone asked me out on a date. fuck.

after paige and azzi had dinner, enjoying each others company and having unnecessarily long conversations, azzi heads off to her room she shares with caroline.

paige brushes a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and sighs, her mind racing with the way azzi had smiled at her and her soft giggles that make her stomach flutter for no reason at all. she takes a deep breath, suddenly deciding to pull out her phone and text nika.

p: i’m coming over

the walk is short before paige is standing at nika’s door, knocking lightly— she pushes the door, finding it open, entering without waiting for a response. nika looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone.

“hey,” nika nods once, “what’s up?”

the blonde crosses her arms, trying to appear more casual than she really is. “azzi has a date,” her voice betrays her by cracking on the last word, the sudden tightness in her throat making it sound much weaker than intended.

nika raises her eyebrows, obviously shocked at paige’s statement. “a date? with who?”

paige shrugs, “a guy named tyler. i don’t know, she didn’t go into much detail— just said ‘he’s nice, i think you’d like him,’” she scoffs softly, her voice growing quiet, “like i could ever fucking like someone who’s after azzi.”

nika knowingly smirks, playing with the tips of her brown hair. “why not? i thought you said she’s your best friend— nothing more. what happened to that?” she tilts her head, teasing her friend.

paige’s cheeks flush, her gaze dropping to the floor. “cmon, nik,” she mutters, leaning her head against the wall, “i don’t know— it’s complicated, okay? i mean, she is my best friend. but sometimes, it’s just more than that. i hate it.” (she loves it.)

the croatian’s expression softens, feeling paige’s frustration radiating off her. she sets her phone down, leaning forward slightly. “you know, it’s okay to admit it, p. everyone can see how much you feel for her.”

a shaky breath escapes the blonde’s lips, her eyes shutting for a second. “fuck,” she mumbles, embarrassment washing over her features. “is it really that obvious?”

nika smiles, her voice gentle. “yeah, it is, but that’s not a bad thing, paige. it just means you’re human— you’re allowed to feel this way.” she pauses, letting the words settle for a moment. “you don’t have to figure everything out all at once, take your time. but i’m always here whenever you need me, you know that, right?”

paige walks towards nika, taking a seat next to her on the couch. she squeezes her friend’s hand, conveying her appreciation. “thank you, nik.”

“always,” nika nods, “and if it makes you feel any better about this whole date thing, azzi hasn’t mentioned him to any of us. if she likes him so much, don’t you think she’d at least tell caroline?” she raises an eyebrow, eyes widening slightly.

paige tilts her head in thought, “caroline doesn’t even know?”

“not that i’m aware of,” nika replies, “so i’m sure she doesn’t like him too much. plus, i’ve seen the way she looks at you. you can’t fake that, lemme tell ya.”

paige meets her friend’s eyes. “what way?” she asks, her voice curious.

the corners of nika’s lips curve into a grin, “like you hung the goddamn moon. she loves you, p.”

paige exhales quietly, her gaze dropping. “she wouldn’t go on a date with someone else if she loved me,” she suddenly rises from her seated position, heading for the door. “thanks, nika. i’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

the croatian nods once, understanding that paige needs to be alone right now. “see you, paige.”

with a final glance over her shoulder, paige offers a small, appreciative smile before stepping out and into the hallway.

the walk back to her room is silent, but her mind continues to drift back to azzi— her best friend, the one she trusts and loves most, and now, the one with a date.

why can’t azzi see it? why can’t azzi see her? she’s willing to do anything for her, yet here she is, going out with someone else. a guy, to make matters worse. paige would fucking climb mount everest in the dead of winter, down, and up again, just for azzi. all for her.

flopping onto her messy bed, she stuffs her face into a pillow— she screams.

you could hear the obnoxious chants and cheers of the gampel pavilion all the way in the locker room, where the uconn women’s basketball team prepares for their game. the excitement outside was palpable, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

paige leans against her locker, eyes scanning her teammates who were also getting ready until they found a set of very familiar brown eyes. azzi only offers a half smile which paige doesn’t return.

the two haven’t spoken— besides easygoing conversations during practices— in a few days, ever since azzi left paige’s room after mentioning her date. they haven’t even texted, which they’ve done everyday since meeting during USA basketball all those years ago. it’s unusual— azzi hates it.

the brunette breaks eye contact, looking down to tie her shoes. her pulse is steady, yet her thoughts are pure chaos. why wasn’t paige talking to her? did she say something to upset her?

a loud cheer from the stands outside broke her from the over consuming thoughts. azzi glances up only to find paige’s eyes still dead set on her, unwavering. the sophomore didn’t look away. she couldn’t.

without breaking eye contact, paige slowly tugs her shirt off, revealing her toned stomach and her, only in a sports bra. the motion was deliberate, controlled, almost in a teasing manner. azzi’s cheeks flush, her gaze flicking down to her chest, then back up to paige’s face.

paige, making sure to keep her eyes on azzi’s, slips on her jersey, then her warm up shirt over top. she makes it a point to move slow, liking azzi’s gaze on her— liking it even more when that gaze lowers.

paige was enjoying this— enjoying how azzi’s eyes that she loved so much seemed to follow her every movement. even when paige finished dressing, azzi’s eyes momentarily fell again, soaking in the sight of paige.

quickly, however, paige straightens, her focus shifting entirely. she tied her shoelaces and was out of the locker room before anyone else, leaving azzi behind, and speechless.

this is going to be a long game.

driving towards the basket, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor floods paige’s ears.

she throws it up, getting hit on the arm. the whistle blows instantly as the ball swooshes through the net.

“yeah p!” kk yells, holding her hand out for a high five.

the players on the floor huddle paige, who continues to gather her breath. azzi hesitates to take the place next to paige, but nods in her direction regardless. “nice shot,” she tells her, her voice light.

paige exhales before placing a hand on azzi’s lower back, just above her waistband. it’s a gesture she uses with all their teammates, yet it speeds up the pace of azzi’s heart nonetheless.

paige easily makes the free throw, and the game resumes to their usual quick momentum. azzi makes most of her shots, only missing two off of bad passes while paige collects 23 points off midrange jumpers and driving layups. the two get pulled out during the fourth quarter, both out of breath but satisfied with their game tonight.

“you played well,” paige notes, nodding once at the younger girl.

azzi— still flustered at their little moment in the locker room— glances at paige, cheeks turning a light shade of red at the compliment. “thanks. you did, too,” she responds, choosing her words carefully.

paige’s gaze lingers on azzi for a beat too long, taking in her features that are coated in sweat— yet she manages to still look good.

the two watch the game in silence, not bothering to continue their conversation. they focus on the players that usually don’t play, hyping them up and cheering whenever their shot falls. it isn’t until azzi decides she’s had enough that she speaks up.

“are you mad at me?” she asks, making sure to keep her tone causal and calm. she doesn’t want to upset paige further by raising her voice.

paige scrunches her eyebrows, clearly caught off guard at her sudden question. “what, no? what makes you think that?”

azzi offers her a half shoulder shrug, “i don’t know. we haven’t talked lately; it makes me think i did something to upset you.”

“az,” paige mumbles, feeling guilty over their lack of communication over the course of the last few days. “i promise, i’m not mad. i could never be mad at you.”

with that, she scoots her leg closer, thigh coming in contact with azzi’s. she doesn’t bother meeting her eyes— although she can practically feel her staring, the silence thick between them.

azzi takes it a step further by resting her arm around paige’s chair, her fingers beginning to play with the tips of her blonde hair.

paige’s tenses, but relaxes almost as quickly, unable to ignore the warmth blooming in her chest. she tries to keep her focus on the game, but it’s difficult to ignore the way azzi lightly tugs at her hair, the soft pressure somewhat comforting.

the game winds down with the team leading by double digits. the final buzzer goes off— the team lines up, high fiving the opposing team and offering the usual “good games.”

on their way back to the locker room, after spending a couple minutes with fans and the media, paige finds herself only a couple feet behind azzi. she quickens her pace, jogging up to her best friend and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

azzi stumbles forward a little at the unexpected weight hitting her. she laughs, not hesitating to wrap her own arm loosely around paige’s waist, her fingers gripping the jersey ever so slightly.

“hi,” paige giggles, a smile clouding her serious expression that was once there.

“hey,” azzi says, her eyes immediately finding paige’s.

“wanna go to mine?”

azzi unintentionally bites her lip, nodding rapidly. paige laughs at azzi’s eager reaction and squeezes her shoulder gently.

the two make their way back to the locker room, never breaking contact. they slowly pack their bag, stuffing their shoes in along with other gear they brought.

kk nudges azzi, catching her off guard, “az, you see the coach’s face when you hit that three right in front of him?” she laughs, recalling the memory. “that’s cinematic, if you ask me.”

“i would’ve quit coaching if i were him,” ice points out, joining in on the laughter.

azzi quietly chuckles, although she’s missed the opportunity to look at his face, like they were saying.

paige, looking proud as hell, wraps her arm around her shoulder like she had before, holding her closer this time. “aren’t you guys glad i got her to come here?”

“oh please,” azzi tilts her head towards the sophomore, “i didn’t come here just for you.”

paige quirks an eyebrow, barely holding back a laugh, “okay, az, sure.”

“i didn’t, asshole!” azzi exclaims, half serious, half sarcastic. she shoves paige by the arm.

paige steps back, “mhm,” she hums, continuing to tease her.

but azzi just rolls her eyes, deciding not to entertain paige. she finishes her bag and throws it on her back before walking out and into the hallway, with paige on her trail— like usual.

she cannot help but hear paige’s annoying giggles coming from behind her. she turns her head mid walk, throwing paige a swift glare, only causing more chuckles out of her.

their walk to paige’s dorm isn’t long, but enough to make azzi throw herself on the older girl’s bed, groaning as she lays face first into the soft comforter. after a moment of silence, she turns on her side, letting out a little sigh.

paige watches her, blue eyes roaming the length of azzi’s body all laid out on her bed. she tosses her bag to the corner of the room before walking towards azzi, laying besides her, on her back.

azzi licks her lips. fuck, did she look good.

“i missed this,” paige breaks the comfortable silence while adjusting her position, now facing azzi.

“missed what?”

“us hanging out like this— talking. just me and you,” she explains, quietly. “i missed you.”

azzi, nervous all of a sudden, smirks, “wow, you’re dramatic. it was only a couple of days.”

azzi’s words hang in the air. paige’s expression shifts from soft to irritated at azzi’s response. she pulls herself up into a sitting position on the edge of her bed, her face scrunched in annoyance. “okay, forget it then.” she crosses her arms, her tone sharper than it once was. she adds, “sorry for missing my best friend, i guess.”

azzi follows paige’s movement and sits up as well, scooting a tad closer. although her tiny smirk still remains, she can tell paige is actually a little frustrated. “i was only messing around, p,” she says, “i missed you too. i miss you after not talking for a hour. i always miss you.” she reaches out, squeezing paige’s hand in hers.

azzi rests her other hand against paige’s neck and jaw area, and not giving paige a chance to reply, the younger girl leans in, pressing a featherlike kiss to the side of her head. the another— delicate, slow— on her cheekbone.

azzi leaves a trail of wet kisses down paige’s face, continuing down her neck like she’s done so many times before. she adjusts her hand— that’s still in paige’s— to rest on the blonde’s stomach, feeling her abs under her shirt.

a sigh of pleasure escapes paige, her eyelids fluttering shut. azzi’s fingertips tease the bottom of paige’s shirt, traveling slightly in, grazing her bare stomach.

“azzi,” paige whispers.

azzi hums against her skin, never disconnecting her mouth from paige’s flesh.

without another word, the older girl shifts completely, moving her body to face azzi once again. azzi— not expecting the quick movement— jerks back, but paige is fast to react, grabbing her nape and pulling her in. their lips meet and paige knows. knows this is exactly where she’s supposed to be, forever. with azzi, touching azzi, kissing azzi.

azzi can’t help but kiss her back, desperate and sloppy. they’ve kissed before, but this time around feels different. maybe it’s the intensity, the buildup— or perhaps it’s paige’s murmured words, barely audible for her to hear.

“fuck, az,” paige mumbles between kisses, “you feel so good.”

paige focuses on the sensitive spot on azzi’s jaw, sucking as her hands find themselves underneath her shirt, on her bare hips. azzi groans in pleasure, her head tilting back, granting paige better access.

the minute paige removes her lips from azzi’s jaw, the brunette is quick to remove her own shirt, throwing it off to the side. she’s left in only a sports bra— paige’s eyes widen, her cheeks redden.

paige doesn’t wait any time attacking azzi with another messy kiss, this time incorporating her tongue, swiping it over her bottom lip. her hands explore azzi’s body, fingers tickling her skin.

“you’re so goddamn beautiful,” paige murmurs, “my god.”

azzi falls back on the bed, dragging paige with her. “you’re beautiful,” she whispers against her lips.

the heat between them intensifies. their pace picks up as they begin removing each article of clothing, starting with paige’s shirt, exposing her toned muscles. next comes azzi’s sports bra, leaving her in nothing but her basketball shorts.

paige’s mouth wanders, sucking and kissing her way down azzi’s laid out body— all for her. she doesn’t stop until azzi’s nipple is fully against her lips, dark and peaked.

“jesus, baby,” paige mutters. her hand sneaks down to azzi’s waistband, ready and waiting patiently (impatiently) to yank it down.

the use of the nickname makes azzi shutter undoubtedly. this is everything, she thinks. paige is everything.

encouraged by the little sounds azzi makes, paige gently tugs at her shorts, as if to ask for permission. when she receives a frantic nod in response, she slowly pulls them off her, taking her panties too before tossing both into an unknown corner of her room.

her eyes revert back to azzi’s body, laid out completely bare on her bed. for her. jesus, paige could almost cry from happiness— she’s wanted this for so long, it’s hard to remember a time where she didn’t.

she leans forward yet again, pressing a closed mouth kiss to azzi’s now swollen lips. “i love you,” paige whispers so faintly azzi wonders if she imagined it, “i swear to god, i love you. so much.”

azzi stills. was it just sex talk, or did she actually love her? she genuinely couldn’t tell— but she wasn’t about to question it now.

(paige means it, though. from the depths of her soul— with everything in her, she means it. if this isn’t love, than what is?)

azzi allows paige to continue her trail of wet kisses down the length of her frame, licking and leaving marks that’ll appear tomorrow. when she reaches her glistening clit, paige glances up. “ima make you feel good, okay?”

azzi meets her gaze. “okay.”

and she does.

they don’t talk about it much after it happens. they choose to go back to pretending as if nothing had happened— like they didn’t completely come apart for one another, kiss every inch of each other’s bodies.

the two continue their normal routine, eating breakfast with the team, having the usual conversations. they share minimal words, hardly ever looking one another in the eye.

caroline notices, of course. she pulls azzi aside during practice while the others work on their personal drills. “az, what’s up with you and paige?”

azzi tenses at her name. “huh? nothing— what makes you think that?”

caroline raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “you two have been avoiding each other all day— not even looking when the other passes by. did something… happen?”

azzi holds her breath, knowing she can never lie to caroline. she adverts her gaze to the opposite side of the gym, where paige is practicing with kk and ice. her heartbeat intensifies, recalling the memories from the following night. her delicate tough, her teasing tongue, her soft lips. her everything.

“no need to say anything, i think i already know,” carol smirks, eyeing both paige and azzi.

azzi instantly feels heat rush up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she decides to play it as cool as she can, “nothing happened between me and her,” she replies, hoping and praying her voice remains stable, “in fact, i have a date tonight.”

caroline’s jaw drops the littlest amount, obviously not expecting her to say that. “a date? with who?”

“tyler— he’s in one of my classes. he’s cute. sweet,” she smiles.

“hm,” caroline hums. she doesn’t know what to make of this situation.

“what?” azzi questions her friend.

carol shakes her head, “nothing. i just didn’t know you dated.”

azzi shrugs, “not really— but it’s one date, it won’t hurt. i’m willing to give him a chance.”

“right,” caroline mumbles. “didn’t really expect it to be with him, though,” she adds, her voice quieter than before.

“then with who?” she asks louder, her tone sharp.

caroline curls her lip, looking away as if the answer it obvious. “oh, maybe just with a certain blonde standing a few feet away from us,” she explains, “the one you label as your ‘best friend,’” she quotes with her fingers.

azzi’s jaw practically drops at the insinuation, her heart suddenly racing. she definitely didn’t expect carol to go there— especially with such a pointed, targeted tone. her face flushes with a mix of shock, disbelief, and something she can’t quite place, but it’s enough to make her stiffen.

eventually she sighs, not even going to argue with her friend. “whatever, carol,” she says, giving up. “you might think you have everything figured out, but i can assure you, you don’t.”

caroline holds up her hands in surrender, shrugging her shoulders in the process.

what does she know, azzi thinks. she doesn’t know anything about them— none of them do.

azzi exhales, rubbing her hand on her forehead. she decides to switch the topic away from paige, “anyway, can you please help me pick an outfit for tonight? you know how indecisive i am.”

she laughs, her expression softening a bit. “‘course az, that’s what i’m here for.”

azzi smiles, thankful she dropped the previous subject. her and carol begin discussing potential outfit ideas as they continue practicing. however, her mind can’t help but wonder back to the blonde across the room— the one who’s gaze keeps flicking to her every now and then. how does paige feel about the date? does she care? azzi cuts off those thoughts, trying to focus on wrapping up practice and then when the time comes, tonight.

while applying light makeup to her face, azzi hears a gentle knock on her dorm door. she figures it her roommate, caroline, coming back from grabbing dinner, but when she turns the knob, paige is standing there, dressed in her pajamas.

paige stills at the sight of azzi. she’s in a tighter fitting, black shirt paired with light washed jeans. she has on her go-to heart necklace, along with silver hoops in her ears. the outfit highlights the curves of azzi’s body— paige knows she’s staring, yet she can’t seem to tear her eyes away.

“what’s up, p?” azzi offers a kind, small smile in her direction, moving aside to let paige in her room.

paige strolls in acting like she owns the place. she allows herself to look azzi up and down once more, silently admiring her utter beauty.

“hey,” paige says finally, eyes finding azzi’s as she sits on the edge of her bed.

a moment of awkward silence passes until the brunette speaks up, “did you… need something?”

“nah, just bored,” paige shrugs, “i forget you had a— y’know, date.”

azzi’s eyebrows quirk upwards, not entirely surprised at paige’s forgetfulness. “yeah, i’m leaving in a few minutes, actually.”

“oh,” paige mumbles. she shallows. “okay, well, i should get going then.”

she stands, making an effort to move for the door, but azzi stops her with a hand gripping her arm. she turns, facing the younger girl.

“wait,” azzi breaths. her eyes scan paige’s face, “you sure you’re good?”

paige’s lips curve into a soft smile, making her best effort to mask her disappointment. “yeah, az, i’m good.”

azzi nods, “okay, just making sure.”

before thinking it through, paige steps closer and reaches out, playing with a few curls on her head. azzi freezes and suddenly becomes acutely aware of her grip on paige’s arm, still lingering on her warm skin.

“have fun on your date,” paige smirks, watching her closely— a little too closely. “you look stunning, az.” (if he doesn’t take you home, i will, she wants to add, but doesn’t for obvious reasons.)

azzi’s heart flutters in her chest at her words. paige always knew how to make azzi absolutely crumble. “thank you,” she whispers, her gaze unintentionally flicking to her lips.

with one good last look at azzi, paige turns and exits her dorm without another word passed between them. she said all she should, and that was enough.

tyler was, in fact, pretty sweet— and definitely not unpleasant to look at. azzi rests her face in her hand, eyes solely focused on the man in front of her.

he laughs at something she said, his smile warm and genuine, and for a moment, azzi wonders if she’s actually enjoying herself. maybe this would be good for her, being with someone like him. she wasn’t necessarily disgusted at the idea.

his laughter calms and eventually, he flips the subject, asking her questions about herself. “so, you play for the women’s basketball team, right?”

“yep,” azzi nods, her smile lingering.

“how’s the season going? i haven’t been able to catch a game yet.”

he actually seemed interested. “so far so good. i personally think i could work on some things, but overall, pretty good.”

“that’s good to hear,” he nods as he takes a sip of his drink of choice— a classic coca cola.

“what about you? what types of things are you interested in?” azzi questions, tilting her head in her hands.

“well, i’m really into photography…” he goes on, but azzi’s mind drifts once she feels a faint buzz against her leg. a text message.

she sneakily glances down, noticing it’s from, of course, paige. who else? she takes a better look, finally reading the message itself.

p: u forget ur bra in my room

azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. tyler continues talking, oblivious to azzi’s shift in focus. but azzi can hardly concentrate on his words now. she stares at her phone, the text from paige blinking back at her— almost taunting, in a way.

she immediately feels a flush creeping up her neck she tries, and fails, to compose herself. fuck. now, of all times, paige decides to bring it up?

making the quick decision to ignore paige’s text, azzi clears her throat. “sorry… my mom texted,” she says, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“no worries. everything alright?” he grins back, not aware her unease.

“everything’s perfect,” she replies, leaning in to sip her water.

the two revert their conversation into talking about their hobbies, interests, personal goals for the future. azzi shares how she plans to reach the wnba level, while tyler explains his hopes of becoming a sports journalist, where he can continue his passion for photography there.

mid laugh, azzi feels another buzz coming from her phone. she flips it to see another message from the persistent blonde.

p: u just gonna leave me on read? answer ur damn phone azzi

azzi, growing more and more aggravated, excuses herself from the table and heads in the direction of the bathroom. once she’s in a free stall, her fingers work away at the tiny keyboard.

a: r u serious right now? wtf

p: wdym

a: u know damn well what i mean. why r u texting me that while i’m out with someone else?

azzi lets out a deep breath, trying to keep her anger in check. of course paige would do this to her— it’s paige.

paige takes a little longer to reply than before. but when the message comes, it’s short and sweet, yet still has the ability to make azzi’s heart stop.

p: i miss u

goddammit. paige always does this, azzi really shouldn’t be surprised. she cannot help but feel bad for accepting this date. she shuts that thought down instantly— she deserves a chance at a relationship. she deserves this.

instead of replying with her typical “i miss you too,” azzi shuts off her phone, leaving her on read.

she walks out of the stall, applies a fresh coat of lip gloss in the bathroom mirror and heads back to their booth, more in control than she was when she left. she refuses to acknowledge paige’s snarky text tonight. tonight is about her getting to know tyler, getting a feel for him— giving him the chance he deserves.

by the end of the date, she does just that. she learns tyler is genuine, thoughtful, surprisingly funny as well as an overall good person. they exchange phone numbers and already start talking about a second date in the near future.

azzi even works up the courage to kiss him gently on the cheek when saying their goodbyes— she thanks him for the good night together before flashing him a smile, dimples and everything, and walking away feeling good about the outcome of this date. she really hadn’t expected it to go this well, but is grateful it did. although, paige still lingers in the back of her mind which she tries her best to ignore. this day was about her and tyler. not paige.

the following day, the uconn women’s basketball team had another game in the gampel pavilion. the fans were loud, the atmosphere was intoxicating, the players in blue were absolutely dominating the opposing team— like usual, when it came to the big east.

paige and azzi continued to remain on the outs, barely making any conversation, if any at all. their usual chemistry seemed distant, and the tension was evident whenever they shared the same space. the team noticed but, for the most part, chose to keep their distance, focusing on the game instead.

the game ended as fast as it started, with uconn winning by 46 points. azzi collected 20 of her own, while paige had a solid 24. their automatic passes to one another was off tonight— that is, whenever they’d actually pass the ball to the other. it wasn’t necessarily intentional, paige thought. it seemed to happen naturally.

after the team had showered and changed into comfortable clothes, they found themselves at ted’s, drinks already in hands.

azzi leans against caroline, planted in the corner of the room. she swirls her dirty shirley temple— paige got her hooked— with her straw, looking at the liquid move in the glass. she glances up in attempts to locate the blonde, to which she finds another familiar face: tyler. they lock eyes and smile at the other. when he makes an effort to walk over to where azzi sits, caroline notices and stands.

“you have fun,” carol says, walking away before she finds herself in an awkward position.

azzi laughs. she takes another quick swig of the drink, feeling it go down her throat. she bites her lip, anticipating tyler’s approach.

“hey azzi,” tyler greets her, a kind smile on his face. “long time no see.”

she giggles, “it feels like forever,” she drags out the word, in a sarcastic tone. “how are you?”

“pretty good, yeah,” he nods. “how bout yourself? how’d the game go?”

“i’m good, thanks for asking,” she replies, her voice soft. “wait, you knew we had a game today? i thought you didn’t keep up with basketball.”

tyler exhales a weak breath, feeling almost embarrassed. “i typically don’t… but you’re on the team, so i figured i should probably start.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, a grin playing at the corners of her lips. “that’s sweet of you,” she points out, her voice quieter.

their conversation continues, discussing the game in depth and the little mistakes azzi wished she could’ve perfected. she finds herself laughing more than she expects; tyler’s easygoing nature makes it difficult not to, and suddenly she feels a little more at ease than she had earlier in the night.

“maybe i should go to a game soon,” tyler brings up.

azzi’s face reddens the tiniest amount, “yeah, maybe you should—“

mid sentence, azzi feels a body collide with hers, causing her to stumble to the side a little— basically right into tyler. he holds out his hands, stabling azzi after nearly falling.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry,” a voice says, genuine and sincere. azzi knows that voice.

her gaze immediately find paige’s blue ones, who’s already looking her dead in the eye. paige’s line of sight flickers between azzi, to tyler, to his hand on her arm.

“oh, hi paige,” azzi speaks, her voice crackling a bit. she removes her grip from tyler’s touch, not wanting paige to see.

“az,” paige whispers, flustered and wide-eyed.

staring at the blonde in front of her, she finally pulls herself out of her trance and shallows. she looks at tyler, then back to paige. “this is tyler,” she introduces him.

“hi, nice to meet you,” tyler nods in her direction.

“hey.”

azzi clears her throat, “tyler, this is paige,” she begins before adding, “she’s my best friend.”

paige locks gazes with azzi as soon as her words tumble out of her mouth. “is that what we are?”

the words hang in the air, and everything seems to slow for a beat. azzi’s pulse quickens, her cheeks bright red at this point. azzi feels a knot in her stomach as she stares blankly at the sophomore.

azzi opens her mouth, yet nothing comes out. she shakes her head, in absolute disbelief at paige’s comment.

paige’s lips curl into a line. she hums at azzi’s response— her silence speaking for itself. she eyes tyler once more before shifting her gaze back to azzi, raising her eyebrows.

without another word being passed between them, paige turns on her heels and walk away, leaving azzi there, motionless. she takes off straight for the bathroom, setting her drink down on an open table in the process.

azzi watches as paige’s retreating figure vanishes around the corner, the sound of her footsteps fading into the background. she stands there, still frozen, the tension thick in the air. tyler, who’s been silent throughout their interaction, finally speaks.

“that was… intense,” he says, his voice a bit hesitant. “is there something going on between you guys?”

azzi shallows hard, her mind racing. “um,” she murmers, unable to look him in the eye. “maybe— i’m not really sure, to be honest.”

tyler gives her a sympathetic look, “maybe you should go after her. talk it out.”

azzi nods, finally snapping out of her daze. “yeah, probably. thanks, tyler, i’ll see ya.”

without waiting for another word, she walks briskly towards the bathroom, following the blonde’s trail. she pushes out the heavy door and steps inside, adjusting her eyes to the bright light. not immediately spotting paige, she raises her voice.

“paige?”

azzi’s voice echoes off the bathroom walls, but there’s no quick response. she steps further in, her heart pounding harder, nerves tightening in her chest. luckily the bathroom is empty, besides the closed stall at the very end. azzi brings her knuckles to the door, knocking gently.

“paige, please open the door.”

and she does— paige is standing there, shoulders shaking, eyes full of fresh tears. fuck.

“what?” paige asks, barely loud enough to be heard. her voice cracks and azzi swears her heart does too.

azzi doesn’t hesitate to lunge forward, pulling paige into her warm embrace. she wraps her arms around her waist, their bodies fully flush against the others.

paige stiffens but almost automatically relaxes against her body. she rests her head on azzi’s shoulder, with both hands tightly wrapped around her frame.

a few moments pass with nothing but breathes being exchanged. but the next words out of paige’s mouth makes azzi heart swell. “i can’t stand the sight of you with someone else, azzi,” she whispers in azzi’s ear. “i try to be as supportive as possible, for your sake— but i can’t anymore.”

“paige…” azzi pulls back, keeping her hands resting on the blonde’s hips.

paige wears a sad smile. she brushes loose curls out of azzi’s face, her fingers playing with the tips of them. she leans forward, placing a delicate, slow kiss on the side of her face. then another, in the same spot.

azzi’s breath catches in her throat as paige’s lips touch her skin. the contact is gentle, almost hesitant, but also warm and comforting in a way.

paige steps back, out of azzi’s grip. her eyes lower to the floor as she takes a shaky breath. she wipes her eyes quickly, trying to regain composure. “i’m heading back. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

she turns towards the door, her steps slow but purposeful. she hesitates for a second just before she exits, glancing back at azzi one more time. “have a nice night, az,” she says quietly, taking off.

she doesn’t.

[asphaltsugar]

la dolly vita (cool as ice cream)

tommy slater x counselor!reader — 1.5k

supervising capture the flag isn’t so bad when you’ve got company.

extras: tommy doesn’t get possessed bc i said so; kind of forced proximity; no use of y/n; to the anon that asked me to write a fic here it is; ending is kind of rushed so don’t mind if it has weird pacing; title really has nothing to do with the fic i just like the song with the same name from the smashing pumpkins

It was too quiet with the campers hiding. The wind took their space, the faint giggles you thought you could hear as they hid or ran brushing past the trunks and cabins that concealed their figures.

The dingy light at the doorframe bled a yellow onto his frame sitting at your side. Everything else was clouded with a balmy, sharp blue as the moon poised high, watching as your eyes scanned the campgrounds. As far as you could tell with what little you could see, you were the only counselors out on watch—Alice and Arnie could be anywhere.

In the uncommon still of the night with its pockets of mischief maneuvering closer to either flag of red and blue, you tried not to dwell on his humming every now and then, some tune you’d grown used to hearing from his pursed lips or the radio’s static from his cabin window.

It was like this summer wanted you and Tommy to be closer—physically.

Practically every chore you were assigned to was with his name written right next to it. Your group of campers would want to join with his for an archery competition or a game in the lake, to which he’d shrug and stand by your side until they were collectively coming over, groaning about lunch.

One of the counselors had chosen some sort of scary movie to watch for movie night last week, the scenes enough to keep their eyes either glued to the screen or hidden behind their hands. You were glad they were preoccupied; the creaking of the door would have definitely ruined the mood, even if it had made them jump.

There hadn’t been many spots left towards the back, save for one right next to him. He had given you a small smile as you sat down, mumbling a ‘hey’ under his breath and letting you know you didn't miss much of the movie. He had shuffled his legs so as to give you more room, his posture shifted a bit straighter. He had walked you back to your cabin once it was over, whispering a ‘good night’ you returned at your door.

Every past year you were at Camp Nightwing you had considered him a friendly face, one you were almost relieved to see when you stepped off the bus the first days of camp—it was only a matter of time before you found yourself aware of where he was—and perhaps what he was in your mind—in regard to you.

He didn’t seem to mind the seemingly constant pairing, to your relief. If anything, he was eager to offer company if you wanted it, and his energy was infectious once it dwelled. All the more reason to wonder if perhaps your eyes were consciously looking out for him in the mornings to when it was announced lights were to be put out.

A clearing of his throat made you glance over at him. The only two counselors in sight whose names might as well be carved into the adirondack chairs that stuck to whatever skin it touched.

“Who d’you think’s gonna win?” he asked, looking at his hands in his lap. If you were supposed to see the sly smile at his lips, you didn't point it out.

You tilted your head to give him a look of faux consideration. “Well, given we’ve already seen three-quarters of Shadyside brought over here, you tell me.”

“Hey, they could pull it off,” he said, putting his hands up in defense. “Maybe they’ve got some tricks up their sleeves.”

You smiled at that possibility; he was ever the enthusiast. “Maybe.” Your voice trailed off as one of the campers donning a blue shirt snuck behind one of the cabins in your line of sight. “Kids do have great imaginations.”

The night stretched on as campers were escorted by opposing teams to the designated areas reserved for the ‘jails’, some rescued with serious hushes and sneakers flattening grass with the pace they kept. A few would come up the steps asking for a bandaid after having tripped in the woods or scraped a hand, to which Tommy told them to stay put as he left; you would ask them how they felt about their position in the game, nodding along to whatever elaborate plan they had in mind, wished them good luck once Tommy returned with a bandaid and a generous smile, repeating your words with a hand to their shoulder.

As he sat back down, he looked around the grounds, tucking his hair behind his ears. You could barely hear him when he spoke after a while of quiet company.

“Are you hungry?”

With patient silence he walked you to his cabin, just a few feet from your own. When you went past a few kids hiding, he put a finger to his lips as to zip them closed and toss the key into the bonfire, no matter if they were wearing red or blue.

He let you in first, wooden steps just giving in to his boots, and closed the door softly behind him. He didn’t turn the lamps on, so the inside wore the same blue as the moon gave the campgrounds. He brushed past your waiting figure, a hand briefly meeting your elbow.

“I’ve got some stuff stashed from the kitchen earlier,” he whispered, gesturing with a nod of his head to follow him to a bed at the farthest end. “Hopefully it’s still here, anyway,” he added with a biting of his bottom lip, though more so to himself at his hand pulling the drawer to the table beside the frame open.

It wasn’t anything fancy. A few pastries in napkins he unraveled with a small hum of relief, a few bags of chips, two root beers near the AC. He gave you first pick, tips of his fingers brushing along your own.

You ate in between talk of plans over the fall, stories of instances at camp when you were at opposite ends that made you laugh as you drank from the rather lukewarm can and he recounted with low chuckles. You didn’t mind the warmth, welcomed it as you settled alongside him on his plaid sheets.

Maybe you welcomed it a little too much, because the next second you were a coughing fit, reaching over to place the drink blindly on the table. Tommy immediately took it out of your hand to do so himself and readjusted so he sat right in front of you, as close as he could without being practically on top of you with how small the mattress was and gently put his hands under your forearms.

“Hey, hey, arms up,” he whispered through a crooked smile, hands following suit as you did as he said. “There ya go. You ok?”

You nodded despite the burn that now crept along your throat. If he believed you or not he didn’t pry, instead waiting patiently for your breathing to even. This close you could smell the firewood in his hair.

The door then sounded with a crude creak. You both turned to the outline that stood blue and plain before it made itself known.

“Tommy, you sly dog, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Arnie’s voice crooned. “And during color war, too. Hell yeah.” With Tommy’s back to him and you sitting against the wall, you would have rolled your eyes if it wasn’t you he was referring to.

The pull of your features was involuntary; a curious half-smile at his state, a raise of your eyebrows and a clearing of your throat from the root beer. Though you could practically smell the weed that clung to Arnie’s clothes and tone of voice, you wouldn’t lie and say his words didn’t pique your interest.

There was a sigh from Tommy, his eyes dropping shut as his head was still angled away from you. A low ‘oh my god’ stumbled from his lips. “Arnie, shut up.” The slices of moonlight that lay upon his skin from the window showed his cheeks and ears flushed a ripe red, an afternoon sunburn in the late hours of the night.

He just giggled, stumbling into the cabin as he went over to his own bed, leaning over with loose limbs to slide a hand under his pillow. If he wanted to say anything in retaliation, it was slurred into the cool blue as he got whatever it was he came inside to get. It sounded more like an improvised tune, one made up as he went back to the door not without nearly tripping over his own feet or whatever lay on the floor, which Tommy had steered you clear of.

You did catch his last words, delivered with a childish whistle and whisper.

“The night is still young, Tommy!”

The door rattled at his departure, the scene returning to that of before. This time with a smile that tugged at your lips and a warmth not from the root beer. Your eyes glanced at his shifting at the head of his bed, rustling the sheets as he moved.

He let out a low groan at his quip, rolling his eyes before leaning back to sit against his headboard like before, lulling his head along the wall, his voice spoken through a sigh.

“I should have never told him.”

[spencahreadreid]

"Baby, listen" S.R

spencer smut!! female reader, nipple play (a little), traffic light system (safe word not used), light bondage, daddy kink, Dom Spencer, friends to lovers, aftercare at the end, one mention of sub-space, no y/n!!

idk how long this is, but probably one of the longest fics I've written I would love feedback, if I missed any warnings please lmk!! im literally terrible at these things so please bear with me

Spencer had been your friend at the BAU for a few months now, being the youngest agents you immediately became close. This meant movie nights, coffee dates and occasional library visits together. All of those are platonic of course, he'd never see you any other way.. right? Today had been a long day at the BAU, not a case but hours of paperwork lined up with barely any break. Yeah, it was terrible but everyone was just grateful no one had been in danger.

By the end of the day, you were exhausted, so were the rest of the team. Before you went to leave, you decided to clear your desk. Throwing your empty coffee cup into the trashcan beside your seat, you stopped when footsteps sounded behind you.

"Hi." A low voice. You turned to see Spencer Reid, smiling, his satchel across his body. He had one hand down by his side, a brown paper bag in it.

"Hey Spence! You going home?" You turned to him with a sweet smile, tilting your head.

"Yeah, hopefully not alone.. Uh-" he paused for a second. Lifting the bag, he placed it in your hands, now it was closer to your face you could smell the familiar sweet pastry. He would do this sometimes, stop at the bakery around ten minutes away from the building and pick up something for you.

"Thank you, but who were you hoping to have over?" The usual, act as if you had no idea, mostly to tease him. His lips curved into a small smile, mumbling "You".

You both laughed at his seemingly sheepish response, and you followed him out to his car. After the long drive you both settled down on his couch, and like always, he put on Star Trek. Tucking into the sweet treat he brought you, you offered him a bite before wrapping the blanket over both of you.

While the episode was on, you found your eyes drifting to him, his hands, the way he had been manspreading under the blanket since the show had started. But what your mind was on the most is the new wet feeling in your underwear, the fabric suddenly sticky. 'Please not now' the only thought you had besides how good the man  beside you looked right now.

The TV continued playing, and it felt like an hour before he spoke again, you took in none of it before he tried again. "Are you alright darling?"

Holy fuck. Darling?!? You turned to him with a smile, he could tell it was fake, hes not the only profiler here. He never called you that, he'd let a pet name slip sometimes but it was always a joke.

"Yeah, I'm good" as soon as you said it he knew you were lying. Either way, he nodded and turned back to the screen, this time he took more occasional glances at you. You weren't even sure how you had gotten turned on so easily. It was just the sight of him. It was that easy.

Before you could stop yourself, your thighs clenched to try ease the friction, pulling the blanket slightly. Shit. He looked over and caught the movement before you could act as if nothing happened. He knew. He definitely knew and now you couldn't take it back, your brows furrowed.

"Baby-" he tried.

"Listen, this is really embarrassing-" and you cut him off until he started again.

"No no, look at me" his hand met your chin, pulling your gaze to meet his and you could've melted. Your breath hitches, the corner of his mouth curving into a slight smirk, something you'd never seen before.

"Are you feeling alright?" You could only nod, head barely moving but he saw it. The look in his eyes changed, voice seemed lower.

"Do you want this?" It was almost a whisper but it seemed so loud to you, watching his lips move, like only he existed. He waited, his thumb caressing your cheek and you nodded for a second time. Stripping the blanket off his lap, he patted his clothed thigh, inviting you to sit.

Obviously you did. Why would you deny sitting on your hot co-workers lap? When would you ever be in the right mind to decline that offer?! Shuffling over, you swung one leg over his, settling down on his right thigh. Your chests brushed before his hands came to rest lightly on your hips, fingers teasing over the fabric of the skirt you chose for work.

Hands on his shoulders, you met Spencers eyes again and they looked so beautiful. His eyes however, quickly moved to your lips, and soon you came in contact. The kiss was needy, long awaited and you could feel the amount of desperation that came with his movement. One hand on the back of your neck, one on your hip he slowly began guiding you back and forth over his thigh. Lightly pushing up your skirt, the pleasure hit almost immediately.

It was exactly what you were needing earlier that night, you moaned into his mouth, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. When you pulled back, his eyes looked into yours almost pleading, nimble fingers moving to your blouse.

"Yes, yes take it off!" Nodding, hips still seeking pleasure, jeans rubbing against your covered clit perfectly. With all the movement he struggled with the buttons, you both laughed as you stilled long enough for him to get the first few undone. After three of them, he caught sight of your black lace bra, a sound left him and he tugged, the shirt popping open, buttons flying and hitting various things around his living room.

You gasped, not understanding how it could've been so attractive. Spencer stood up with no warning, your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, his arms holding you up under your thighs, skirt still rolled up over your stomach. His apartment was small, the walk to his bedroom feeling as if it took two seconds.

He let you go when his knees hit the bed, you scrambled back using your hands. This is when he could really see you in all your glory, legs spread, underwear soaked around the middle, face flushed and hair messy, bra still on. 'Can't wait to see that off' his brain called to him. Worry about that later.

"Colour?" He'd asked, but it sparked confusion in you. His eyes softened as he took in the situation, you didn't know what this was. But then the look of recognition came over you, panting out "Green, so green"

Spencer smiled "Good girl. Just tell me if that changes for you."

A nod of confirmation had him moving closer, crawling onto the bed between your thighs. Pulling down the skirt came first, then hooking his fingers under your underwear. When he came into sight of you his breath hitched, mouth opened as if he was about to speak but he never did.

You waited, waited so patiently for something to happen, maybe a reaction from him. As soon as your head tilted back you felt his hot breath over your thigh, then your core. It was almost a battle to keep your hips down on his bed, he noticed this and brought his arm down to keep you still.

He didn't make contact, he had you held down, his face just inches away, mouth almost touching you.

"Spencer" you tried to move, which was funny because before that you were doing so much to stop yourself from moving. It had taken so long for things to get to this point, and now he wasn't doing anything.

Spencer smirked up at you, moving in slowly, lips wrapping around your clit. Hands finding his soft brown curls, you tugged him closer, thighs spreading wider. His tongue soon came into the picture, licking a stripe up your slit, before moving them down to your hole. A moan escaped your lips, before you felt something prodding at you. His middle finger slipped into you and you immediately tightened around the digit, Spencer moved slowly, not wanting to bring you to the edge yet.

He didn't know how fast you would get close, so he alternated between speeds, you pleaded but he wouldn't stay consistent.

That's when it slipped.

"Please daddy!" hips thrashing, but then slowing when the realization kicked in. No fucking way.

"What was that?" Spencer lifted himself, his finger still inside you. Now you were face to face it was so much more embarrassing. When you didn't speak, he pulled out, causing you to whine.

"Say it again." he moved closer to you, crawling over on his knees. Stopping beside you, he slowly began to undo his belt, your arms flew up but he caught your wrists in his hands.

"Absolutely not, you don't get to touch me until you repeat that." again, no room for argument. You wanted to fight back, but that mindset disappeared when he took both your wrists into one of his hands. His free hand moves to his tie, undoing the knot, pulling it from under his collar. Eyes widening, you go to speak, he assesses the fear but also the way your pupils dilate.

Desire.

"You're safe with me alright? We can stop at any time, just say the word." with that, he begins binding both your hands together. When they're all done, he loops the end around the metal of his headboard. "Too tight?" Tugging lightly, with a shake of your head you confirmed they wouldn't slip off. If only you'd just done what he said.

His belt already discarded, he moves off the bed and to the end of it. Using the restraints as leverage, you pull yourself up to watch him. Button of his slacks, then the zipper and they're suddenly on the floor at the end of the bed. The sight of him made your whole body feel warm. Spencer in his boxers... The outline of him, the length, the thickness of his dick. You could swear you would've been drooling if your mouth was open.

"Still good over there, pretty girl?" to him you looked spaced out, clearly not catching the pure awe behind your current blank expression.

"I'm- yeah I'm good." nodding, voice slightly broken, needy, wanting.

"Are you ready?" you hummed back to him, but that's not what he wanted.

"I'll ask you again." his voice slightly more stern, you swallowed hard.

"Are you ready? Use your big girl words this time." That could've sent you spiraling. As you focused on finding your words, he stripped of his shirt. Spencers hands made it to the waistband of his boxers, he looked up for your answer.

"Yes daddy" to which he responded, "There's my girl."

Lifting himself onto the mattress between your legs once again, you waited with bated breath, eyes staring up at him. He took himself into his hand, stroking lightly as he approached you, teasing his tip against your slit. He didn't push in fully, he kept his tip barely in you before pulling down the straps of your bra.

"Daddy-" you pleaded, no shame this time. Shifting your hips upward, he dipped further in but pulled back out of you, leaving a light slap on your outer thigh. He didn't want to hurt you, not without you discussing it before, but the moan you let out earned you a warning of; "Patience."

He went back to his first act, before you'd rudely interrupted with your needy gestures. One hand cupped your left breast, squeezing it in his palm, then his right hand went to pinch your right nipple between his thumb and index finger. You were starting to get uncomfortable, the growing need feeling almost too much.

"Spencer, please fuck me!" it was practically a cry. As long as it got the point across, you didn't care how it sounded, pathetic or not. When he looked down at you, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up any longer. He'd been holding back, putting up the front that he could keep himself together around you.

He couldn't. He couldn't wait anymore.

He grabbed the pillow from next to your head, the one he always imagined you sleeping on next to him, shoving it under your hips. He slipped inside of you, you both gasped, his head tipped back. You would've seen this if your eyes hadn't rolled back into your head, the feeling of him finally inside you taking over your whole body.

"Fuck! Fuck- Oh God!" you lifted your legs, pulling them to your chest. He pushed further in, as if you weren't full enough. "So good baby- Shit! Taking me so fucking good." Spencer swearing, something you never thought would turn you on so much, but it did.

"So good daddy- So go-od!" your voice broke as he began to thrust into you. There were atleast three that kept to the same pace, the next ones were uncoordinated. Your hips slapped with a wet sound and you clenched around him, he held your legs up to take some of the responsibility off of you.

You looked absolutely beautiful in his eyes, mascara smudged, eyes gleaming with tears, hands gripping the tie you'd been bound with. The bed rocked, both of you now sure his neighbours hate you, the once quiet neighbour now has a girl practically screaming in his room.

Both of you could care less, infact the only thing in your head was how deep he reached inside you, and in his head, how tight you were clenching around him. His thumb came to rub small circles over your clit, his other hand keeping your legs up so he fit better.

You fought hard not to cum, but you could tell he was close too, twitching inside of you. By this point he could barely look at you, scared the sight of you under him would bring him over the edge of his orgasm. That's when your meek voice called out.

"Daddy, I'm- I'm close" you breathed out, hands tugging at the tie around your wrists, hips bucking up under him. He nodded, you couldn't tell whether it was confirmation to do it or agreeing with you until he spoke. "It's okay, that's- that's okay, you're gonna cum with me. Wait for me." pushing on your lower stomach.

You nodded, trying to speak, trying to say something to let him know you understood before he slammed down harder into you. Spencer watched as your mouth dropped open, drool spilling from the corner of your lips, his hips faltered before moaning out; "Cum for me, cum on my cock"

You did, hard, with a cry of "Daddy!" before you felt him spill inside of you, his eyes screwing shut, mouth dropping to an 'o'. You were so glad you could witness that.

Whining as he pulled out, he soothed you with small "shh" sounds, pulling on the knot of your D.I.Y restraints and slipping his tie off your wrists, arms dropping to the bed almost immediately. Head lolling to the side, you shut your eyes, taking deep breaths as he made his way out and to the bathroom.

Footsteps returned, Spencers soft voice calling out to you. "Baby, we need to get you cleaned up" you were half asleep by now, either way you took in his words. You nodded sleepily and let him wipe up your inner thighs, both your cum mixed together as it dripped out of you. He left the rag by the laundry basket and brought a lotion bottle from the desk in the corner back to the bed with him. He soon urged you to sit up, covers over your lap as he caressed your slightly red wrists, squirting out some lotion onto each one and rubbing it until the soothing cream disappeared.

Spencer suddenly felt guilty, and when your eyes opened slightly to admire him you noticed the regret. "Daddy?" you were still in some kind of sub-space.

"Are you okay?" your voice spoke again, his eyes were now on you, you sounded so small, so vulnerable. He nodded, hand stroking gently through your hair, kissing your forehead, turning to switch the lamp off before you let out a sound of protest. He nodded in understanding and refrained from crowding the room in darkness, you cuddled up into him, settling under the sheets together.

[wonton4rang]

Kiss and make up ¡!

pairing: bnd legal line x gn!reader

warnings: smut +18, some toxic behaviour (ig idek atp), cursing, unprotected sex (be safe y'all 😔) and I think that's about it, lmk if I missed anything.

genre: smut. ♡

summary: how would be make up sex with boynextdoor members (legal line - everyone but woonhak)

note: I was going to post an ask I got ready for today but tumblr kinda glitched and it delete half of it so I need to re-write and edit it again :'( please enjoy this as an apology <3

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sungho; make up sex with him can be overwhelming, and it most likely will, there could be two reasons for it: he is sooooo sorry for everything that he keeps whispering little "sorry, baby" into your ear or he's still kinda mad and just fucks you out of despair. either one you will feel so good and full that you will forgive him for anything you got mad for in the first place. it was sungho and his strong body and gifted cock against you, tbh who would go against that? his pretty foxy eyes looking down on you with so much appreciation, his lips glossy due to your own saliva and his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat. he was so hot and it was just a small disagreement anyways, nothing you guys couldn't talk about after you were stuffed full like a pillow.

riwoo; i see him into some dynamic type of sex, nothing crazy but something that would consume lots of energy, like fucking you in some odd yet pleasant position with no rest, your knees numb and your arms trembling, but when it's make up sex he would be the sweetest and most cliche person, laying you on your back and caressing your cheeks while he left a trail of kisses all over your face, neck and your collarbone, mumbling how pretty you were and how much he hated to fight with you. he's just so sweet and good for you :(( you guys definitely talk about things and get to a solution together, it might be even faster than with other members since i feel like riwoo will understand and make his point clear so that it can be solved accordingly and fast.

jaehyun; he's crying. but not like a few tears shed, he's crying his eyes out whenever you guys have an argument about anything and everything and he really doesn't wanna see you afterwards because he feels so wronged. but when you knock on the door of your shared bedroom after giving him some space, he would make a light pout, looking away so you can know that he's still mad. it only took you two minutes of "baby, I'm sorry, it was not my intention to yell at you. It's not your fault that I'm stressed and I'm sorry I let it out on you, can you please forgive me?" and he will, cause jaehyun is like a little puppy to you, he would never say no, better yet, his answer was "i forgive you, y/n, how 'bout I help you getting rid of that stress, hm?" and then he made you come around his cock twice, giving you a third orgasm while eating you out and softly giggling at your wasted look, kissing you before helping you get a relaxing bath and then tuck you in bed.

taesan; I think I've said this before but I don't see him as a highly sex-drived person, not really understanding all the hype about it, yes, it was good and he loved to fuck you and make love to you, but it was not his top priority. yet I do believe he has his triggers. so when you guys got into this heated argument he realized something: he found your angry self very appealing, the way you yelled at him and pushed his chest making him grin a little bit at the fact that he could tower you and stop you in any moment but you felt that you controlled him. the whole discussion was about some girl that held his arm earlier and he did not move her, you were furious cause you knew how much he hated physical contact with most people and letting that random girl do it like that? you raged. "is this funny to you?" you said, getting him back from his thoughts. "she's no one, love, but I can show you why you are mine right now" you were confused, not following his words are they were so out of place. "you're so hot when you get cold" was the last thing he said before taking you into a deep kiss that ended up with you crying out his name while he made love slowly to you, pounding your cunt full while his soft and wet lips kissed your face. taesan was yours, all yours, no else mattered to him, he did not have any interest in other girls. it was you, you were his one and only.

leehan; where do I even start? he would listen to everything you have to say, quietly nodding to the points you're making and chewing his cheek to avoid saying anything stupid that would interrupt your failed version of an apology, because right now all he can think about is the away your boobs wiggle under your loose large tshirt with every move that your hands do, your tights looking so pretty that he couldn't avoid staring and you noticed, snapping your fingers in his face and rolling your eyes when he just smirked at you, throwing his hair back and sitting comfortably in the couch before spreading his legs a little bit. "if you're so sorry you could show me with actions, y/n" he was so cocky that you couldn't even be mad at him, straddling in his lap and moving your panties aside when he took his dick out and aligned it with your soaked entrance. "you're going to fuck me so good, aren't you, baby?" a soft kiss was pressed in your lips and he leaned back to let you ride the shit out of him. the so called argument long gone.

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Hope you guys enjoyed!! <33

[lizthewriter]

fresh out the slammer / theodore nott

PAIRING  ex!theo nott x divorcee!reader

SUMMARY  post divorce, you decide to move back to england to move on from your late husband. america reminded you far too much of him, but you don't know anyone in england to take you in until you find a flat. other than your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott.

QUOTE  "now pretty baby, i'm running back home to you, / fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be too," - fresh out the slammer by taylor swift

WORD COUNT  2.1K

WRITTEN   7.18.2024

you didn't know who else to call when you came back to england. it was expensive to room at a hotel or something similar, so you called an old . . . friend. or maybe more than friend. definitely more than friend.

as you exited the interior of heathrow airport, you made your way to arrivals. your eyes searched the crowd of families and couples happily greeting each other as they departed on their journeys. you felt like a bundle of nerves - you hadn't seen theo in years, not since your regretted post-break up hookup. one that had been humiliating and embarrassing and so shameful for the both of you that you hadn't spoken since. but he was your only friend in england who had responded to your messages.

your eyes fell upon him, finally, looking as well-dressed and collected as ever. he leaned casually against his car, watching you intently. as your eyes met his, he sent you two-fingered salute in greeting, pushing himself off the vehicle to approach you.

"hi," you said breathlessly, nervously, a chuckle leaving your locked lips. you couldn't seem to find much more to say, a bombardment of old emotion overtaking your psyche.

"hello," he responded, his tone nothing but gentle and nostalgic. the both of you shared a look, filled with old memories of the moments you shared, flickers of memories that are now light with the weight they once carried.

the both of you quickly snapped out of it.

"i should probably put this-"

"let me take your bag and-"

the both of you laughed as you stumbled over each other's words. theo took your bag and suitcase, loading them into the trunk before opened the passenger-side car door for you. always the gentleman, he was.

the start of the car ride was filled with awkward smiles and brushes of hands. as theo pulled out the airport, you found a radio station you liked and sat back in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite how tense you were.

"so . . . you were married?" your shocked glance spoke more than the broken sounds leaving your mouth. you had never told him that. "i know, you didn't tell me, i noticed the tan line on your ring finger. your skin is lighter where a ring would have been. so either, you were married or you're married but separated."

you cleared your throat, sitting straighter. "divorced. the papers went through about a week ago. i'm not suprised you noticed . . . you always had a very keen eye, theo." his old nickname rolled off your tounge like smooth, rich honey. it was like trying on your favorite pair of pants - they were molded to fit you and you alone from the years of use. just like that little old nickname.

"i don't mean to pry," he mumbled, diverting his eyes from the road to send you a worried glance. "i'm sorry, that must have been . . . difficult."

"it was," you whispered softly. it wasn't so much that the divorce was difficult, that was perhaps the easiest part for you. the marriage was the issue - he never treated you right. never liked you wanted, never like you had been. maybe that's why you had never loved him entirely. maybe that's why it had been so easy to separate, to pack your bags, move back home, with - well, with your ex-boyfriend. who you had to admit, you had never stopped thinking about, even if he was only a lingering smell or sight within the depths of your memory. "but i've moved on. i like to think moving home will bring back some of my old self . . . as well as a new start. thank you for letting me stay while i look for a flat, i really really appreciate it."

"please, it was no problem," theo responded humbly. "anything i could do to help . . . you."

-

"your flat is colossal!" you exclaimed, letting out an envious groan at the breathtaking view of london from his flat. your eyes wandered the dull, copy-and-paste monochrome room which theo somehow made feel homey with his choice in warm, wooden furniture. his stylish choice of leaving books on practically ever surface also aided in the apperance of making his apartment feel like a home. it suited him, you thought. "you've made quite the life for yourself, theo. i'm proud. i'd always knew you'd do well in life."

"yes, well, as much as i adore my flat, life is not all about luxury pools and garden roofs," he responded with a simpleton's smile. he made his way toward the staircase and gestured for you to follow. he showed you to your guest room, where he had already taken the initiative to leave out a variety of towels, bath necessities, snacks, and more.

"aw, you made me a welcome basket without the basket," you said jokingly, clutching your heart with mock sympathy. "thank you," you told him, with much more sincerity in your voice this time around. "really, you didn't have to go out of your way to do this for me."

"really, it was no problem. besides, it's nice to have company . . . for once." he awkwardly knocked on the dresser by the door and took a step back. "well, i will let you unpack. i'm cooking dinner soon and no, it is not a big deal, i cook dinner everyday anyways. i'll let you know when it's ready. all right? sooo... just relax."

-

theo poured generous amounts of wine into two classes, one for each of you. he say across from you at his charming dining table, taking a small sip of his drink and shutting his eyes as he appreciated it's unique taste. letting out a content sigh, he returned his gaze to you. "are you doing all right, considering . . . well."

you felt awkward discussing this with him. your divorce. as though it were rude or inappropriate to do so. "i, um, i already know it was ending long before the relationship ended so by the time it was all over, i think i got over most of it. i'm just happy to be back home. home being england - not that this doesn't feel like a home, it does, it's just not . . . my home and now i'm blabbering and this is really weird," you said with a chuckle, digging into the beautiful meal theo had cooked for both of you.

"you always do that when you're nervous," theo said lightly, an affection to his tone. "there's nothing to be nervous about." with a few taps of his phone, the room was bathed in the smooth saxophone and jaunty piano of 50s jazz that you both loved so much. "relax. it's all right."

"how have you . . . been? i hear you're making your way up in parliament. they talk about you in the news now. i remember when the only way i'd hear about you was during uni, when your best friend would run to my dorm to tell me you'd gotten black-out drunk," you recounted with a reminiscent chuckle, taking a sip of wine.

"ah yes, blaise," theo grinned widely at the mention of his best friend. "he'd always have my back. and if he didn't, he knew you would."

"do you remember that one time you both had taken shots of fire whiskey and stole every whiteboard marker from all the classrooms in the humanities building and hid them in secret locations, and then when you woke up, forced me to come help you search all across campus to find them and put them back before class started on monday?"

his expression softened, his eyes crinkling as he remembered his university days of tomfoolery and shenanigans. "i'm suprised you remember . . . university was so long ago."

"it was when i was happiest," you replied with a soft smile, meeting his eyes and glancing away from him uncertainly. you let out a nervous chuckle, taking another bite of your food. he was still . . . just how you remembered him. it didn't matter that he was some important government man now, he was still the same theo you knew.

"have you found a job here yet?" he asked. despite our small talk and the music flowing through the room, it somehow felt completely silent.

"erm, no, not yet. i've been looking, but you know how hard it is."

theo stared at you for a long moment before wiping his face and standing up from his chair. "get up," he said to you with that signature grin of his - it was obvious in his eyes, he was planning something.

"what?" you asked with a laugh.

he approached you, grabbing your fork from your hand and placing it delicately beside your half-eaten dinner. he held out his hand to you. "up. we're going to dance, loosen up a bit. like old times, yeah?"

the phrase like old times brought back a number of memories, all from the time when the two of you were still together. the late nights wrapped in each other's arms, tipsy and laughing so hard you'd fall to the floor. later, sitting on the windowsill and discussing deep topics in great length. early morning, the sun rising over the horizon just as your back arched, slumping back into the sheets. the smell of moscato and cigarettes.

you tried to remind yourself, that was a long time ago, as you took his hand.

he swept you off your feet, twirling you around until you were wrapped in his arms, your back against his chest, as he swayed you to and fro. his head rested against your shoulder, his breath tickling the very edge of your collarbone. "small talk is all so . . . needless, isn't it?" he asked, scrunched his nose up.

"yeah," you responded with a chuckle. he spun you back out and grabbing your hand, pulling you close so you were face to face, waltzing across the kitchen floor. "this is much better."

you didn't need to talk. you only needed to feel. theo hummed to the tune of the music and you closed your eyes, swaying with him.  "you're still amazing at dancing - i'm afraid i've grown clumsy out of practice," you told him as you almost tripped over his foot.

"yet i still somehow seem the same elegant and sophisticated woman before me," theo responded with a grin and an arch of his brow.

"i wouldn't use those two words to describe me in university." you grimaced as your mind was filled with images of all your most embarrassing university moments.

"well, you smart and beautiful and had this moxie." he had such passion in his tone - it felt like university again with each passing minute. "like the leading lady of any black-and-whife film. like . . . hedy lamar!"

"you flatter me, theodore nott," you said, waving him away with an embarrassed flush of your cheeks. the music swooned through your ears, the artist singing about true love, and the both of you fell into silence. your eyes somehow always found a way to meet up again, but quickly they separated like two schoolchildren in love. "you're not so much different either. just as witty and polished as the day we met."

"you mean i haven't grown handsome in my old age?" he questioned in a dry, mock sense of hurt. "you wound me. i really thought this peppered look was working well for me."

"it is," you sputtered out, both to comfort him and to be honest, but once you said it, it felt much more like an admission of feelings than anything. you blushed and stared down at your feet. "i mean, it - um - you look really great."

"you look great too." when you raised your head, finally meeting his eyes once more, something electric passed through the both of you. the awkward tension from the past day had finally built up against a dam, broke through the wall, and exploded into a river of unexplored territory.

before long, he was leading you to his bedroom, hands desperately clutching your cheeks as he rougishly pressed his lips against yours. clothes were discarded, glances were shared, and by the end of the night, you were tangled in each other's arms. like old times.

"this makes things complicated . . . doesn't it?" theo asked, trailing his finger across your bare back.

you stretched your neck to turn and observe him. your hand outstretched, you placed it upon his cheek and rubbed it soothingly. "it doesn't have to be complicated, theo. i . . . i want you."

"i want you too," he replied, leaning forward and pressing a not-so-chaste kiss to the interior of your collarbone. "in every way i can have you. sleep here tonight?"

"for you, theo. only for you."

[mctvsh]

pt. 2 kidnapped!enemy!medic!reader x polytf141

cw: military & war inaccuracies, reader uses she/her pronouns, and is mostly girl based, reader has long enough hair to smack her in the face

proofread-ish

by now, it had been a little over 2 hours of sitting still and silence. afraid one wrong move could cost you your whole life. the Captain had left, surveilling outside with a fat cig hanging out the side of his mouth. the pretty boy, whose name is Gaz (as you've learned from Scot's nonstop chatter), was sitting next to the laid down the chatterbox, whose name you have also come to know as Soap (Ghost told him to shut up, which he did not do).. anyways, what good does this do you? nothing. you still didn't even know the Captain's name.

you continue to sit still for a few minutes, Soap's never ending talking echoing in the room and all you could do is internally sigh with how annoying he was.. although, his cheerfulness DID ease your worries. though it was instantly stopped everytime you realized Ghost was 2 feet away from you and was clutching his gun like it would grow legs and walk away from him.

you glance around once more, ears ringing. you sigh, loud and definitely unashamed. to which you gained a more intense glare fromm Ghost, and a pause in Soap's sentence. yikes.

"My bad.." you grumble, using up all your self control to not roll your eyes.

as if he could intimidate you..

"Ye seem tae hae yer panties in a twist bonnie." Soap says with a shit-eating grin. Gaz stares at you, surprisingly sympathetic.

you glance at him, eyes narrowed.

"Nope. Just fine, thanks.." you mumble, lips in a pressed, tight line. before you practically jolt. a loud clank coming from the door that Price had exited out of.

oh great, watch it be a hyena with how bad your luck is..

and nope, it's the Captain. close enough to be honest.

"Choppers here, git." the Captain's voice rumbles, although, he had a hint of warmness nonetheless.

either way, you're grabbed like cattle by Ghost and set on his shoulder, face to face with his ass, which would be a nice sight if you didn't hate his guts. okay so, you're on your way to die. you look up the best you can, facing a grin from Soap as his chest rumbles with laughter at the sight of you.

what the hell is so funny, bastard?

you were starting to get hungry, honestly.. Gaz had caught up to the Captain before your ears twitch. oh? his name..

"Price.." Gaz says before the rest of his words fade as he whispers to incoherent sentences.

Captain Price.. it has a nice ring to it,

you guess..

wait, who cares!? you'll be dead soon anyways!

you walk out and you hear a loud whirl from the helicopter which you were facing away from, hair flying in your face and catching onto your mouth. and now you're being manhandled onto the chopper, hitting your head on the frame with a yelp. you can feel all four of their eyes on you after that one.

"Tha's real charming, lassie." Soap, again.

if you had a gun, you'd shoot him first. why is he even able to stand up or walk right now? sure the gash wasn't that deep but.. you bet it still hurt. especially with the stitches.

whatever, not your problem.

"Leave 'er be, Soap." the Captain, coming to the rescue! you still don't like him..

but he IS handsome, and.. wait. pause. why are you thirsting over one of your kidnappers? is this stockholm syndrome?

anyways! you're set on the seat, before having your hands tied up. behind you.

"Hah, pretty sight, huh?" Gaz finally speaks, amusement in his eyes.

you can feel your cheeks redden, but hopefully not noticeable because you send a firm glare to him, annoyed. they don't seem convinced, though you couldn't tell with Ghost manhandling your wrists. tying them together and then setting his big body across from you, his head leaning against the window and closing his eyes. arms crossed. Soap was grinning, and you can hear Price give instructions to some guy named Nikolai, in the front.

who knows what'll happen next. you're not excited and you can feel your stomach growling. eyes pulled in a tight furrow and lips slightly frowning as you glance outside. arms already sore, why the hell did he tie it so tight.. whatever..

all you can hear is a russian saying how long it'll take to get back to base.

6 hours. 6 hours of torture with more of your kidnappers, great.

for now all you can do is feel your eyes get heavier and heavier.. until your body cowers, your head dropping down and that's that.

tysm for the support on the first part, you all are so sweet 🥹

——————————————————————

@2bdamnedmadnesscombat

@lilyalone

[marie098887]

Early airport morings. ✈️

Going to the airport with your boyfriend.

Part 2: Barou, Yukimiya, Aiku, Gagamaru, Otoya, and Karasu

📝 Requests: OPEN

After months of talking about it, canceling plans, and pretending you’d “definitely do it next break,” you and your boyfriend finally found the time. No matches. No press. No chaos. Just a trip, something small, something together. It’s early in the morning. The sky’s still dark. You’re both running on no sleep, dragging your bags and trying to act like this isn’t the most exciting thing you’ve done in weeks. Sleepy faces, overpriced airport food, and that quiet buzz of we’re actually doing this. The trip hasn’t even started yet, but it already feels like a good memory.

👑 Barou Shoei

Barou doesn’t travel light.

He shows up before the sun, hoodie up, dragging a suitcase big enough to fit you inside and a duffel that’s definitely all protein bars. He barely says anything when you come out, just nods, grabs your bag like it’s nothing, and mumbles, “Let’s go.”

The car ride is quiet. Not awkward, just Barou being Barou. One hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, lips pressed into a straight line. You ask if he’s excited. He grunts.

At the airport, he moves fast. Knows exactly where to go. Refuses to ask for help.

Refuses to let you carry anything either.

You catch him checking the flight info three times like it might suddenly change. You say, “We’re early,” and he says, “Good.”

He buys you a bottle of water and acts like it’s not a big deal. You smile anyway.

You find your gate, and he finally sits down, arms crossed, legs wide, looking like he’s guarding something. You lean against him. He doesn’t move for a second, then relaxes.

“I hate airports,” he mutters.

You laugh. “You say that like we’re not doing this together.”

He doesn’t answer, but his hand brushes yours and stays there.

They call your group. He stands first. Grabs your stuff without looking at you, setting a hand on your shoulder.

You walk beside him, still yawning, still quiet. And for once, he doesn’t mind the silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🍊 Yukimiya Kenya

Yukimiya arrives right on time. Not a second late. Not a hair out of place.

He’s wearing a monochrome outfit, rolling matching luggage, those same glasses, holding your favorite drink, because he knew you’d forget to grab one in the terminal.

You look at him, still half, asleep, sweatshirt baggy, socks mismatched.

“You look like a catalog ad,” you mumble.

He smiles, soft. “And you look like someone I’m very happy to be traveling with.”

The car ride is peaceful. Calm music. His hand resting on your knee at red lights. You fall asleep with your head tilted toward the window, and when you open your eyes again, you’re already pulling into the terminal.

At the airport, he handles everything, check in, boarding passes, bag drop. You don’t have to lift a finger. He walks at your pace. Keeps you close without hovering.

He’s quiet in the crowd. Focused. But every now and then, he looks over at you like he’s making sure you’re still here.

At the gate, you sip coffee together and scroll on your phones. He leans into you. Subtle. Gentle.

“I’m glad we did this,” he says, barely above a whisper.

You smile into your cup. “Me too.”

They start boarding. He stands up, smooth and effortless, then offers you his hand.

“Come on,” he says. “We’ve got places to be.”

And just like that, you’re off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💚 Aiku Oliver

He pulls up, not blasting music but definitely loud enough for you to hear from outside the car.

He leans over the center console when you open the car door and grins.

“Look who decided to show up. You sleep in those sweats for three nights or just two?”

You don’t even bother responding. You just throw your bag in the back and climb in.

He hums like he’s proud of himself for getting under your skin this early.

But he brought snacks. And gum. And your favorite hoodie just in case you forgot yours.

At the airport, he’s loud, not too loud but loud.

Commenting on people’s outfits. Talking through TSA. Throwing a wink at the barista while ordering two drinks and sliding the better one to you without looking.

“Babe,” he says, handing you your coffee. “If we miss this flight, it’s 'cause you stopped to yawn every five minutes.”

You end up sitting at the gate, your legs stretched across his lap while he scrolls and makes dumb comments under his breath about the other passengers.

Then, out of nowhere, he taps your knee.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

You look up. He’s serious for once.

“No one else I’d wanna do this with.”

And just like that, they call your group.

He stands, reaches for your bag, and then, gently grabs your head and pulls you forward, kissing your forehead before standing up.

"Alright, let's get going."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐼 Gagamaru Gin

He doesn’t say much when he picks you up.

Just reaches out, takes your bag like it’s nothing, and mumbles, “Morning.”

His hoodie’s oversized. Hair messy. Sleep still clinging to his eyes. You’re not sure if he even slept, but he showed up exactly on time, keys in hand, like this trip was the only thing on his calendar.

The ride is peaceful. Barely any music. No small talk. Just the hum of the road and the occasional glance from him to make sure you’re not too cold.

At the airport, he stays close. Navigates like he’s done this a hundred times, even though he’s clearly just guessing and hoping for the best.

You keep asking, “Are we going the right way?”

He just nods. Calm. Unbothered.

At the gate, he buys you both a bottle of water and a granola bar. No drama. No jokes. Just hands it over like it’s second nature.

You lean on his shoulder while you wait. He doesn’t move, just lets you rest there, completely still.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you say quietly.

He shrugs. “I wanted to.”

When they call your group, he stands, stretches once, then looks at you.

“You good?”

You nod. He grabs your bag again, like always, and follows you toward the gate without a word.

Still quiet. Still steady.

But if you looked close, you'd see him smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🤍 Otoya Eita

He sends a text at 4:45 a.m. sharp: “You better not be wearing something ugly to the airport."

You roll your eyes and walk outside in the hoodie you slept in.

He whistles when he sees you. “Wow. Hot.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up. You’re the one making this ride dangerous for me.”

He opens the trunk for your bag and starts rambling about how he barely packed and “just threw stuff in,” but his suitcase is definitely the size of a small couch. His hoodie’s hanging off one shoulder, and he keeps fixing his hair in the rearview like you’re not watching.

In the terminal, he somehow knows exactly where everything is.

Passport ready. Boarding pass pulled up. You barely have time to think, he’s already dragging you toward the gate.

You stop for food. He insists on splitting everything. “Airport calories don’t count if we share them.”

He makes fun of your order. You make fun of his hair. He tells you it’s hot when you’re mean to him.

When you sit at the gate, he stretches out across two chairs and pulls you closer with zero shame.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” he says, voice softer now.

“You’re not gonna complain the whole trip, are you?”

He shrugs. “Not if I get to wake up next to you somewhere new.”

...You hate how smooth he is when he’s tired.

They call your group. He stands and offers you his hand, but only after grabbing your bag like he owns it.

“Let’s go, airport cutie.”

You roll your eyes again, but you’re smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💜 Karasu Tabito

He shows up late. Of course.

You open the door and he’s already sipping coffee, hoodie thrown over his head, suitcase in one hand and zero apology in his expression.

“You’re lucky I even made it,” he says, completely serious.

“You’re lucky I’m still coming.”

He grins. “That’s fair.”

The car ride is mostly him making sarcastic commentary about everything he sees outside, interrupted by long stretches of silence where he zones out mid-sentence.

You ask, “Did you sleep?”

He says, “Define sleep.”

At the airport, he complains about the line, the lighting, the coffee prices, and the suitcase wheels that “don’t roll right,” but he still takes your bag without saying anything.

He points out weird outfits, makes dumb jokes while you wait in line, and throws a granola bar into your lap like he’s doing you a favor.

“You’ll thank me when we’re 30,000 feet in the air and hangry.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you know you want me."

At the gate, he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed, eyes half shut. You think he’s asleep until he says, low and casual:

“This is cool.”

You glance over. “What is?”

“This,” he mutters, not looking at you. “Us. Doing stuff like this.”

You don’t say anything. Just smile and lean into him a little.

He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t pull away either.

When they call your group, he groans like he’s in pain, then stands and stretches dramatically.

“Let’s get this over with,” he says.

But he grabs your bag again. Keeps you close in the line. Doesn’t stop talking the whole way down the jet bridge.

And yeah. He’s glad you’re here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Phew part 2 is done! Part 3 is coming soon! Thank you all for the love and support. Y'all make this so worth it.

[andre-and-cal]

hii!! if u dont mind, could u do some submissive cal hcs pls? :3

Of course !! :D

Bottom Submissive Cal

Before Calvin and Andre had sex for the first time, Cal hadn’t really been fond of the prospect of taking it up the ass, even though he and Andre would be the only ones to know. Well— Cal didn’t really mind it necessarily, yet he did at the same time, if that makes sense. Essentially, Cal knew that at some point he’d have to let Andre see him, let him touch him and all— but he honestly kept putting it off. Kept brushing off Andre’s advances every time the other teen put his hand on his ass or inner leg. Later, Andre was initially kind of apprehensive to take Cal’s virginity, not wanting to accidentally hurt him, even though Cal insisted that he going to be fine.

When Andre jerks him off, the teen rubs his thumb over the slit on the tip of his dick, either mumbling out a soft, “You like that, Cal? You’re so fuckin’ wet… yeah, fuck, look at you,” or a hissing out a rough, “You’re such a messy little bastard. Why d’you cum so fucking easily? Horny bitch,”— Calvin’s fair-skinned cheeks redden at his observable taunts, and his groans become strained and animalistic; he sounds like some animal whining. Calvin enjoys it when Andre manhandles him, when he treats him like he’s lesser than, and his cock certainly does, too. Because he knows he’s at the same level as Andre— but feeling so… inferior compared to the older teen, at times, turns him on.

Cal and Andre have fucked before falling asleep before. They were in Cal’s bed, and Andre had gotten a bit of a “stiffy” after he and Cal were messing around and wrestling. Cal jokingly calling him “lieutenant” really made his cock twitch in his shorts. When they were doing missionary, he had to pat Cal’s cheek to remind him to be silent, and he clasped a hand over Cal’s mouth and forced him to be quiet, whispering a sharp, “Shhhh… c’mon, Cal, shut up. You’re getting too loud. C’mon now— do you want them to hear or some shit?”,, and needless to say, Cal shut his mouth. Eventually, they had to shift positions, with Cal on his hands and knees for Andre and Andre fucking into him slowly— yet his asshole still ended up all puffy and red after. It was better this way, with Cal whimpering into his pillows, getting drool all over the fabric. Andre ended up falling asleep on him, his shaft slipping out of his ass.

Cal has sensitive skin and gets rashes easily, so even the most minor scratches and lacerations result in his skin getting puffy and inflamed for a little while— only really for the rest of that day, though. Penetration to his asshole results in the rim getting swollen and red… Andre likes that. He feels like he owns him, like they own each other, and he knows Cal feels similarly because he hasn’t asked Andre to be gentler with his thrusts. When Calvin cuts himself, Andre gets easily aroused while watching the region encircling the thin, bloodied line extending across his wrist or thigh bulging and shifting into a light shade of pink. Sometimes he wonders if Cal has allergies.

Andre uses a lot of rhetorical questions to get Cal flustered. He kind of can tell what Cal’s body language entails when it comes to their intimacy. If he’s being shy, Andre knows he wants it. Cal isn’t shy around Andre anymore. He knows how much of a psycho he really is. If he’s being forward, Andre definitely knows he wants it. Andre doesn’t want them to get caught, either, even though the thrill of doing something kinda risky is appealing. But Cal and Andre will never risk fooling around in public places. Their bedrooms, the woods sometimes, and Andre’s car are one thing, but anywhere else is a no-go— unless they know the area is secluded, like the school bathrooms. They gain thrills from other activities, such as self-harming.

Cal easily cums in his boxers when he and Andre are dry humping or when he holds a gun up to his head. Because Calvin isn’t really afraid of dying anymore or of the prospect of the trigger somehow going off; he never has— he only remembers that fear from when he was younger. But it wasn’t necessarily a fear. It was just a sense of dread toward losing control of himself and his life, his living self. Now that he’s older and getting ready for Zero Day with Andre, he’s accepted the knowledge that he is going to die. The kindest way to go out is to go out with his boy, and he’s fully prepared to see what’s on the other side with the other teen.

[mykoreanlove]

pillow talk

“Taemin, you missed a step.” “Taemin, you are off beat.” “Taemin, did you forget your own lyrics?” “Taemin, where is your head at?”

Angry eyes watched him mess up again, for the hundredth time this evening. The ace of kpop was far from being a rookie but tonight he was far from being professional either. He couldn’t concentrate, messing up all the steps and forgetting his own lines. Frustrated, he run his fingers through his dark hair and sighed out in annoyance. “Where is my head at”, he mumbled absentmindedly…

“Have you told your friends about me?”, you whispered into his chest. Taemin’s breathing paused for a split second which you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already delicately wrapped around his lean body. His hands caressed your naked figure while his puffy lips were busy pampering you with sweet kisses. “Certainly”, he replied. “What did you say?” “I told them I met someone, unexpectedly. I told them how I met a woman that has taken my breath away.” He paused for a brief moment, triggering the impatience brooding within you. “That’s it?”, you asked offended. He chuckled sweetly before continuing. “They asked me about you, what you were like. And I told them that you were beyond beautiful. Incredibly sexy. Cute as honey. Horny as the devil. Very, very smart. Emotional. Full of passion and desire. Empathetic - always caring and observing. Funny, oh my god so funny, making me laugh all the time. Interesting, seeing a lot of things differently than I do. Basically, I mentioned every positive attribute I could think of.” Taemin didn’t notice the gigantic smile that formed on his lips as he recalled gushing over you. You didn’t see it either, but you felt it, it was impossible not to. “And then they asked me what was going on between us, like if we had a future?” Now you were the one forgetting to breathe – did he catch that? “And I told them that my life is quite chaotic at the moment and that I need to figure out a lot of stuff. I explained to them that I want to concentrate and focus on me, primarily, but this is getting harder and harder to do. I told them that my mind always wanders back to you, thinks about you and misses you. I keep finding myself neglecting my goals to rather be with you…” His voice was filled with serenity, yet you could sense the anxiety in him. “I love spending time with you, getting to know you. The way you think, the things that move you, the things that scare you and make you sad. I want to understand everything about you. And that sometimes scares me.” There it was, the fear that was eating him from the inside. “What does that mean then?”, you asked cautiously.

“Ideally, I’d resist you and move on. I’d memorize your beautiful eyes and luscious lips as a sensuous adventure that I would never forget. But I can’t. Not with you, y/n.” Taemin’s fingers landed on your chin and tilted it up, he was directly staring into your soul now. “I will let you use me.” “Use you?” “Isn’t this what this is?” You gulped, feeling utterly exposed. “Is that why you only told them all the positive aspects about me?” Taemin nodded while placing another kiss on your swollen lips. “I know you’re bad for me. But I can’t help myself. You love me the sweetest only to push a cruel blade into my flesh.” His eyes were glistening, shining almost as bright as the full moon outside. Taemin spoke slowly, putting a lot of emphasis on every single word. “Soothing. Loving. Hurting. Over and over again.” His voice got even deeper, barely audible as he whispered his heart out to you. “And you let me, y/n. Why do you? I come back every time, like a brainwashed puppy. Does that turn you on? Is that your definition of love? Taemin took your hand into his and placed chest kisses on your knuckles before laughing manically. “Because I think it’s mine.”

[saltyyuuri]

Can you do nsfw headcanons for Omen or Iso pleasee. I really love the way you capture the agents. :D

No

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

ISO AND OMEN NSFW HEADCANNONS

I'm pretty sure I already did ISO ones but I think I'll redo them because I got a few new takes and honestly I'm a little too lazy to scroll down my own feed to find them. Anyways~

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

ISO NSFW HEADCANNONS:

I want to mention that I am going to base some of these after reexamining a bit of the character and also the music that came out (Renegade)

Personally I think he's probably a little bit on the spectrum and after also re listening to the song Renegade and kind of reading between the lines for a couple of the lines... Probably a little more hypersexual than I would have assumed. Not much but a little.

Mostly a Dom, will occasionally let you take over but that's very occasional and kind of a vulnerable moment so definitely not something you want to tease him with.

I have a feeling he would be the kind of guy to use his domain as a last resort if he really cannot find a place for you both- like last resort he's going to just use that, so at least he knows no one's going to walk in on you guys or hear anything.

Pretty shameless, kind of guy you could probably walk in on well he's either getting changed, out of the shower or even probably just taking care of himself and he'd just be fine with it.

I said this in the previous headcanon post but lingerie> naked, bonus points if it's lilac or red.

I feel like he would be the kind of guy that would pass some remarks in his native language so no one else would understand unless you spoke Chinese. Like if he thinks you're hot he's just going to mumble it out in Chinese, so no one suspects anything but if you understand him you know what he's talking about.

Definitely a nickname giver in the bedroom; pet names 110%.

Part of me also wants to say if it's a quick hookup like no strings attached maybe he'd have a little bit of a degradation thing- nothing too intense but like just a little bit of like "oh such a good slut" n stuff like that

Morning sex > night sex (totally not because of the song Renegade cough cough)

Kind of guy that would kiss your neck a lot. Like a lot. Probably leave marks too.

After further examination I also would assume he has something about auditory stimuli; he uses his earbuds a lot to focus and it seems like he is one to like having music in the background for his stuff. So I think whispering in his ear or just like moaning whimpering all that stuff would be 110% of a turn on.

For aftercare most likely the kind of guy to get food and drinks-he is a foodie after all. I would also see him being the kind of guy to at least help you clean up a bit but I also kind of could see him being the kind of guy having a bit of an issue with the texture of cum. He would still help but you know with a scrunched face and all that stuff

So those are my new takes on him after spending a lot of time listening to his voice lines his music and just trying to generally get a good idea of him; once again this is more personal opinion because I have a feeling he's maybe a bit on the spectrum and I'm trying to base it off of Canon facts.

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OMEN NSFW HEADCANNONS:

I'm going to do my best for omen because I do know his lore and a bit of his personality but judging how he is as a character this might be a little harder so excuse me if some of these things don't seem right.

He's the kind of person that kind of takes a play on nicknames that if you will say something whether it be endearing or degrading he will kind of stick to it a bit. A bit like how he gets called a monster and he will kind of stick to it and really go through with that nickname to kind of prove a point? I see him doing that too in the bedroom.

He makes people fear him a lot and I feel like that's something that from doing it so often it would just probably be embedded in him to just keep going with that narrative, not as intensely but would still like causing a little bit of fear. Like choking for long enough that you actually start stressing out, blindfolding so you don't know what's coming and you know stuff like that.

Kind of has this Hunter and prey vibe

And a little contradictory to what I just said in the first couple of points I feel like he'd still be relatively gentle through it all. Like he wants to go in with those points out of nature but also wants it to be comfortable and feel safe.

Also feel like he would be the kind of person to not leave any details unaccounted for- like comfort, protection, lubricant if needed, water bottles nearby; you know all that stuff- like everything would be already ready.

Night time sex > morning sex, much rather the dead of night when everyone is asleep and it's extremely dark.

The reason why he doesn't trim his nails is because he likes making use of them, dragging them along your skin, maybe occasionally leaving a couple of marks- but a lot into sensory play with them

The kind to take it slow, almost painfully slow but just enough for that when things pick up it's almost unexpected and makes it so much better. I'd also see him into edging

Part of me also wants to say he's probably into being a rigger, I mean he works a lot with yarn and I also feel like he kind of gives off Hunter// prey energy-so being a rigger would make sense in my opinion.

If there is light in the room it's most likely going to be candles-and he purposely choose an odor that would kind of cover up any other smells just in case somebody decided to walk in. Something that smells strong enough to cover the rest without necessarily feeling overwhelming; like eucalyptus mint, lavender vanilla, coffee and lemon. However does not use those candles for any other reason other than covering up the odor for those of you wondering

He also gives a really cozy vibe; with his knitting Hobby you can most likely expect that after the deed is done you are going to be put in one of the most comfortable blankets of your life. Knit blankets are extremely comfortable and cozy, and if he's still not feeling up to fall asleep he would probably start knitting sitting beside you, just enough to keep a presents while not being a disturbance.

And before I forget I feel like you would also have a little bit of a stalker-ish Vibe sometimes, and he wouldn't realize it too much. Where he'd have fun just kind of sitting in the shadows of the areas you're in just to keep an eye on you, it comes from a good place but he doesn't necessarily realize it could seem a little stalkerish.

This one's not NSFW but since he loves taking care of plants like bonsai trees, I feel like he would get one specifically for you-like either a rare variant of it or just a different plant that he thinks would suit you. And he most definitely put a little plush octopus on it; either the pot or if it's something with little branches he would try to make it small enough so it can still hang on a branch without damaging the plant.

So those are my takes and I went a little more into details according to what I personally would headcannon, I'm trying to base it off of actual facts that could make sense or correlation but of course this is just headcannons

Peace out people!

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