#and I just. want to see that. i think it would be fun

[kxsagi]

Kindly requesting mma fighter!gf x blue lock boys 🙏

I’ve been hyperfixating on the idea for a hot minute and would like to know your take on these 🤭 As for characters, could you have Isagi, Bachira, Sae, Shido, Reo, Kaiser and Barou? (As well as any other characters you’d like to add) Thank you ☺️

“𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐭”

a/n: this is giving “my girlfriend could kill me (and i’d let her)”

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, kaiser michael, barou shoei

itoshi sae

deadpan “wtf” when he first sees you break a guy’s nose clean in a sparring match. 

not scared of you… just extremely respectful of you. 

“remind me to never piss you off.” 

secretly enjoys watching your training vids. they're always playing in the background while he studies game footage or stretches. he says it's for "noise." 

loves that you can protect yourself. he doesn't worry when you're out late because who would even try you? 

your bruised knuckles get the gentlest kisses. he's silent about it, but you catch the softness in his eyes every time. 

itoshi rin

"your form’s off. tilt your elbow when you throw." 

yes. rin critiques your fighting technique. 

trains with you for fun, but it turns serious fast. you both end up full-sparring, and the neighbors call the cops because it sounds like a crime scene. 

lowkey turns into your water boy during competitions. towel ready, water open, dead silent but there for everything. 

he doesn't like people staring at you in your fight gear, but he'd never say that. instead, he’ll just glare until they combust. 

jealous when you get press attention – “they should be watching me, not her.” (he’s just petty + he loves you.) 

isagi yoichi

your biggest fan. like. front row, wearing a shirt with your name on it. 

he gasps when you throw punches like a mom watching her kid in a karate tournament. 

“wait wait wait was that a spinning elbow??? baby that was SICK!!!” 

always tries to “train” with you and ends up flat on his back every time. 

absolutely posts clips of you on his insta stories with heart emojis. 

when fans flirt with him, he literally goes, “my girlfriend would kick your ass in two seconds.” 

bachira meguru

he thinks it’s the hottest thing ever. 

challenges you to play-wrestling. ends up in a headlock giggling like a maniac. 

asks you to teach him cool moves just so he can show off in public and say “my girlfriend taught me that!” 

gets way too into your pre-fight rituals. “do you want me to braid your hair? can i scream like a hype man before you go in?” 

draws little doodles of you mid-kick. has a sticker of you on his phone case. 

actually becomes a little possessive when other fighters flirt with you. all smiley until he says, “she’ll break your nose if you try that again.” 

shidou ryusei

it’s a match made in hell. chaos x chaos. 

you two flirt by trying to knock each other out. 

sparring is just foreplay, honestly. 

“babe you broke my rib that was so hot.” 

starts fights in public just so you can jump in and “save” him. 

he’s obsessed with your strength. like, genuinely obsessed. will brag about you to strangers like “my girlfriend could kill you with her pinky.” 

also not-so-secretly into the idea of you pinning him. yeah… 

mikage reo

shocked at first. like, his elegant, stunning girlfriend… punches people for a living? 

gets over it fast and becomes the most extra supporter of all time. 

hires a videographer to make hype montages of your fights. 

“you need better sponsorships. i’ll call my manager.” 

wears suits to your matches like he’s at fashion week. 

deadass once tries to bribe your opponents to forfeit so you won’t get hurt. you banned him from doing that again. 

gets really flustered when you pin him against the wall. “d-don’t use your pro moves on me, babe… please…” 

kaiser michael

he acts cocky until he sees you knock someone out in 30 seconds. 

“... okay that was kind of sexy.” 

makes it his life mission to look cooler than you in public. spoiler: he fails. 

“you’re lucky i like strong women.” while actively looking like a golden retriever when you punch the heavy bag. 

kisses your bruises like it’s romantic. it kinda is. 

super competitive during sparring. refuses to go easy even when you dominate him. 

also: “imagine our kids. they'd be gods.” 

barou shoei

does NOT know how to process you at first. 

like. you fight?? professionally?? 

refuses to admit he’s impressed. instead he says “your guard’s sloppy.” 

you beat him in arm wrestling and he sulks for a week. 

but deep down? he’s proud as hell. watches all your matches. complains when they don’t show your good side. 

sometimes trains with you, but it always turns into a competition. 

super protective even though you clearly don’t need it. “don’t talk to her. she can handle herself, but i’ll break your jaw too.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[chaiibing]

okay but you can really tell the animators and mojang team cared a lot about the project and put genuine hard work into making it. like yeah it was obviously approved as a shameless cash grab for the execs but that doesn't mean there is zero artistic merit in it

anyway while im complaining i think i will also complain about the minecraft movie. we all say the trailers and mocked it fucking relentlessly for looking stupid and like just the biggest fucking cashgrab. and then it came out and everyone went to watch it. seriously???? we cant even boycott a movie that looks like shit. the characters look awfully out of place compared to the backdrop of the movie and i dont care if thats a choice its too fucking ugly to stare at for 90 minutes and everything ive seen about the movie seems like its just "hey look heres a thing you can do in minecraft that jack black knows about" like GODDD why are we doing this

[abbotsanatomy]

hello!! i love ur writing you’re feeding my abbot addiction <33 could you write a fic with a depressed reader, maybe she had a hard case that hit close to home that ended badly and is really lingering for her, and jack noticed because she’s been more withdrawn and distant for the past few days and he tries to get her to talk about it and she says shes fine then blah blah fast forward shes on yhe roof crying after working a double :) sorry im a fiend for hurt comfort

⨳ PROTECTING THE HIVE

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: (20-ish year) age gap, resident/attending relationship, workplace romance, depictions of depression, mentions of suicidal ideation, kinda medical malpractice (lol), panic attack, allusions to child abuse. author's note: i had no idea what to name this, so here's my attempt at being funny... (also keep the compliments coming, they're feeding my ego <33 mwah)

You used to love your bed. It used to be a huge source of comfort. And sleep. Sleep is a special commodity when you work night shifts at a trauma center.

Now, you hate it. Because whenever you aren't working, you're just lying there. Not even asleep, just staring at the ceiling. Half of the time, you want to get up and be with your hot, older boyfriend.

The other half of the time, your mind is just pulling out the most horrendous memories possible, making you relive them, and wish you were dead. There's a bottle of pills on your nightstand you know would do the trick. You won't let yourself.

People rely on you. Jack relies on you. You save lives every day; you just wish you didn't have to lose so many along the way.

The only place you can escape your own thoughts is the ER. So, you throw yourself into your work. You work twice as hard, for twice as long.

Of course, Jack notices. He can see the most imperceptible changes in your demeanor, so this major shift doesn't exactly fly under his radar.

Be that as it may, you won't tell him any of it. He's a natural worrier. He hovers and he worries. That's just who he is. You're doing him a huge favor, really.

Besides, out of all the things your coping mechanism could be, it's saving lives. Who wouldn't support that?

So, you work yourself to the bone guilt-free. You take on double shifts with a few extra hours sprinkled on top. It's more than tiring, but it also means that when you get home and you're in bed, you pass out. You don't lay there for hours thinking about the kid who died in your ER two weeks ago.

You're careful about it, too. You change your scrubs and chug a cup of that terrible break room coffee before Jack comes in for the night shift.

Tonight's another one of those long, grueling, self-inflicted shifts. You've got a Red Bull in one hand, and a patient's bloodwork in the other. You've assessed labs like this one a million times, but the numbers aren't making any sense right now. Parker passes by you with a quick tap on your shoulder to bring your attention to her.

“Hey, you want me to count you in for the rock climbing thing this Sunday?” she asks, opening up one of the ER computers, “It was fun last time, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say slowly.

You're not too sure you can come up with a viable excuse right now, so you'll just have to cancel later. It was really fun, it just sounds like too much effort right now.

She walks away with a nod, when one of the nurses calls for her. When you start feeling surrounded in the middle of the ER hallway, you make your way to the break room. It feels even more stuffy, somehow.

You grip the papers in your hands tighter. The throbbing in your head that hasn't really left for the past two weeks has become unbearable now.

Noises are too loud. Everyone's too close. You need to get out, now.

Everything in your hand gets abandoned on the break room counter. You make your way as swiftly as possible past the patient’s rooms. A hand gently grips your arm, before you can pull the emergency exit open.

“Are you alright?”

Jack's low cadence coupled with his steady touch on your arm make you want to burst out into tears right then and there.

“I'm fine. I just—” your voice cracks.

“I need a minute,” you tell him, willing your voice to be as firm as you can manage. You can't even pull your gaze up from the floor. It isn't clear if he's buying it or not.

He lets go of your arm, and you can finally run up the hospital's stairs to the rooftop. You're completely out of breath, and still wildly overstimulated by the time you get there.

You pull the roof's metal door open. The moment the cold December air hits your face, it calms your panic down. But it brings with it a wave of sadness that can't be quelled or distracted away. You let yourself feel it.

You're out of control, now. Hands shaking, limbs completely wracked by these huge, full-body sobs. You steady yourself with your arms on one of the roof's AC units, when the memories start flooding your mind.

The kid you killed, he'd come in a week before. He had bruises all over, cuts where he wasn't supposed to. You passed the information onto someone on the day shift, so they can tell the department social worker. The next day you came back, he was gone.

A week later, he was dying in your arms. His blood literally staining your hands is a memory you'll never be able to erase. You spiral, his first and last visit to the ER flashing in your mind with equal consequence.

The footsteps growing closer barely register to your ears over your wailing. The moment Jack pulls you close, a hand on your jaw to bring your eyes to his, you instinctively pull away. He's insistent, though. He was trying to give you space, but look where that's gotten you.

“Hey, hey,” he says firmly, to grab your attention.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. He quickly realizes he can't get you to understand anything he says, not right now. So he does the next best thing.

He holds you. Really tight. So tight you can only smell his cologne and that sterile hospital scent that lingers on him for hours after a shift. It reminds you of home. You see him almost every day, but you miss him. He somehow always knows exactly what you need.

It takes a good ten minutes for you to stop crying in his arms. He's happy to be there, just glad you're slowly calming down. When your breathing evens out, and your eyes have dried out, you look up at him.

Where you think there should be disappointment, maybe even hatred, there's only admiration. If you’d actually picked up a scalpel and killed someone, he wouldn't even flinch, you think.

His gaze alone is making this a lot easier, “Better?”

You nod. Your eyes feel heavy, like you might just sleep here in his arms.

“It's the oxytocin,” he jokes.

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle.

His scrub top looks incredibly comfortable. For the first time in weeks, you wish you were just in bed. You could lay on his chest and have the best sleep you've had in too many nights to count. The best you can get right now is resting your forehead on the black fabric. That's exactly what you do.

Jack lets a few seconds go back before speaking up.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I...” you take a deep breath.

I killed him. The words die on your tongue. You can't say them.

Jack must notice this is causing you distress, so he runs his fingers through your hair. He kisses the top of your head to calm you down.

“We don't have to, right now,” he whispers, “Not ever, even. But you do need to talk about it to someone.”

You nod in agreement, against his shirt. Your coping mechanisms are so not working.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You blank, “I don't...I don't know.”

“Sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Alright. You're done.”

He pulls your head up with a hand on each cheek, “Clock out. Go home. Have some food, and I'll be there in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You both walk to the emergency exit. In the stairwell, you turn to him, your eyes still glistening.

“Hey, um. I'm not fine, Jack,” you admit.

“I know that,” he tells you. “But you will be. I'll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

[poisonofthepaint]

lucky you

jack calls you in on your day off, which leads to hooking up in the on-call room, which leads to him finding your tattoo.

wc: 2.5k

cw: MDNI, semi-public sex, f!reader, age gap, pinv, oral, lmk if i'm missing anything!

The date you were heading toward was less than exciting. You knew you needed a life outside of the hospital, Dana had given you a wake up call last week. You had been working doubles like it was nothing, but this was your first day off in a while, so you figured you’d download a dating app, get a free dinner on a Friday night. Not that you couldn’t afford dinner, this was more like dinner and a show. Max was a kind guy, but you could tell he didn’t take you seriously— that he underestimated you. So this was your chance to show up a man, and have him pay for your dinner. Win win.

Then, your phone rings. The ringtone that you have set for hospital staff interrupts your music and blares through the speakers. You groan, checking to see who it was. You were surprised to see that it was Jack, you figured since he was agreeing so hard with Dana last week that he would be the last person calling you.

“It’s my day off,” you answer

“I need you here.” Jack sounds out of breath. 

“Are you kidding?”

“You know I’m not. Ellis is sick, I thought we could manage but we cannot. I need you here.”

“You’re buying me dinner.” you say, exasperated.

“Gladly,” Jack ends the call. 

You know he wouldn’t call you unless it was actually an emergency, Jack wasn’t like that. He wanted to be able to manage. He wanted to be able to handle it by himself. So when he calls you, it’s important. You take off the blue dress you had on, switching it out for a plain white t-shirt before throwing your scrubs on top. You grab the bookbag full of your supplies for shifts and head out of your apartment.

The hospital is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you walk. It’s a bit chilly out; the springtime air blowing through the trees. It looks like it’s gonna storm, and you get to the hospital right before it starts, ducking your head as you walk into the entrance. 

The patients are grouchy in the waiting room, all groaning and yelling. The seats must’ve been taken up hours ago, there’s more people standing than sitting. You push your way through the front door.

“Good, you’re here.” Abbot was waiting at the doors like he had timed you. “You’re not supposed to wear perfume here.” he chastises.

“Had already sprayed it when you called me, figured I didn’t have time to shower.” 

“Right,” his eyes catch yours and he refuses to look away. “We have a lot of injuries from a car crash. A bunch of guys were speeding on the highway and about six of them were sitting in the open truck bed. A semi driver didn’t see them swerving around and knocked them off the road.”

Jack finally breaks eye contact and walks away, you follow him back into Trauma 1. There’s a young guy, probably around twenty-three, screaming in pain. His hand is holding on by a string, like, literally. It’s barely connected. 

“Noah, this is my best resident, she’s gonna take a look at you.” Jack tells him, yelling over the boy’s own screeching.

“I don’t care who she is, fix my fucking hand! I’m on a baseball scholarship!”

“I’m really glad I cancelled my date to be here.” you say, examining his arm.

“You were going on a date?” he says, you think you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, but you brush it off.

“Aren’t you the one who told me to go have fun?” Jack doesn’t answer, just goes back to the patient, and you do too.

There are a lot of injuries, some superficial, some very serious. Noah will lose his hand, because he was stupid. You learn that he was the driver of the truck, and that he was drinking. You try to have empathy for all of your patients, but it’s hard when they’re being willingly stupid, and killing their friends. Noah heads up into surgery, and everything is rather stable now. The ED returns to its normal business, waiting for beds upstairs, triaging emergencies from the ambulances. 

You sit at your station and chart your patients, trying to remember all that happened in the whirlwind of your arrival. Jack stands right in front of you, charting as well. He looks back once, twice.

“You need something?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Nah, just making sure you’re good.”

“I am just peachy, although I could use some dinner.” you smile up at him brightly.

He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, “Guess I did promise.”

Jack pulls out his phone, opening DoorDash before handing it over to you. You swipe through the restaurants before you find some Chinese place that catches your eye. You put what you want in the cart before handing his phone back to him.

  “Thank you, Dr. Abbot!” you get up from your seat and go to do a round of checkups.

You briefly see him shake his head as he looks down at his phone. 

It’s  a while before the food gets there, and even longer for the driver to argue with the nurse at triage. Jack finally sees the commotion and goes out and grabs it, apologizing to the nurse.

He calls you over and you grab the food, heading into the breakroom. You sit down and open up the paper brown bag. You think about how your night worked out, you got free dinner and a show anyway. And this was actually a show you quite enjoyed. You did love your job, maybe an unhealthy amount. But you had worked so hard to get here, and you were good at it. You were Abbot’s best resident. You were fast at assessing and scoping out which treatment would be best. You flew around the ED like it was nothing to you. 

After a few minutes of eating alone, Jack came to join you, taking what he ordered out of the bag.

“So, what’s wrong with Ellis?” you pry.

“She thinks she has the flu, super high fever and throwing up.”

“Got it, just wanted to make sure this wasn’t all a ploy to get me here on my day off.”

“And if it was?” Jack asks. 

You’re stunned for a second before you regain yourself, “Then I would say you’re very unprofessional, and that you’re interfering with my personal life.”

He shrugs– smirks, “You don’t want a healthy work life balance. Plus, we have fun together, don’t we?”

You try not to think about how he can read you; how he’s got you memorized like you’re the back of his hand. “We do.”

You finish your food and throw the empty container in the trash, excusing yourself. You swoop into the on-call room, trying to calm yourself. You rest your back against the door and swipe a hand down your face. 

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Jack since your first day at The Pitt. it was a schoolgirl one at first, you thought he was cute. It was fun to be attracted to your boss; to have a little work crush that you could be excited about. But then, it started getting deeper, Jack paid extra attention to you, he could tell that you actually enjoyed the ED. You were always with him on cases, he picked you for his ‘team’ during busy mass casualties. He got to know you, you got to know him. He was no longer a mysterious crush who you just thought was cute. You liked him, in a way you didn’t want to. It was distracting some days. It was even more distracting when you had a feeling you weren’t being delusional. When you wondered why he called you, a second year resident, instead of one of the seniors, or another attending. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you open it, shocked to see Jack standing outside. He walks in and you allow him, moving out of the way so he can lock the door behind him. You can feel your heart in your throat. You sit down on the bed, hoping it’ll stabilize you. 

There’s silence; tension you could cut with a knife. He stands with his hands resting on a countertop. The storm rages outside the window, a big crack of thunder rings throughout the room. Jack is just looking, trying to scope you out. He pushes off and approaches you. You swallow, and look down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact, but Jack isn’t having any of it. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. He leans down, presses his forehead against yours. He lets his lips ghost yours— just barely.

“Tell me to stop.” he begs, out of breath, just like when he called you.

You place a hand on his neck, fingers threading lightly through the hair at the bottom, “What if I don’t want you to?” He groans, burrows his head into your neck. “I want it, Jack, of course I want it.” 

That’s all it takes. His lips are on yours without another beat. The kiss is rough— needy. Your teeth clash against each other, and his tongue explores your mouth. He lays you back onto the bed and your legs open, making room for him. He settles himself and gets to work on your neck, his hand slowly slides up your shirt, resting on your stomach.

He’s still being cautious, you think. You push his hand up and he cups your breast. He makes a strained noise when he feels the lace on your bra.

“You were gonna wear that for him?” Jack asks, right into your ear.

“No, I was wearing it for myself.” an honest answer. 

Jack rips your pants off and sees, what he assumes, is the matching thong. The underwear shifts down a bit, and you think Jack is gonna pass out.

Your small tattoo, a mistake from undergrad. A scripture on your hip that reads, ‘lucky you.’

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, kid.” he brushes his thumb over the words. Thinks about them. Doesn’t move for a minute. 

“Good thing we’re in an emergency department.” 

The nickname sends a wave of arousal through you, just like it always does. It’s how he usually referred to you during emergencies, when you’d catch something that no one else saw. It was how he praised you. You never imagined you’d hear it in this context.

Jack stands up and you whine. He quickly strips off his clothes and is back on you in a second. He rests on his stomach and kisses your tattoo sloppily.

He rips off your underwear with ferocity. You’d be smart to feel a tinge of embarrassment. He is your boss. But you don’t. This feels right, this feels good. He swipes a finger through your folds and you keen. 

“So wet for me.” he mumbles.

Jack wastes no more time. His tongue makes quick work on your clit. He moves like he knows you. Like he’s done this a million times, like there’s no room for error. And there isn’t. You both knew this needed to be quick. There were patients outside of the door, and the nurses and other doctors will be wondering where you two went. He works at your clit and you try your hardest to not make any noise. He looks up at you while his tongue is buried in you, and you let out a cry. He reaches a free hand up and covers your mouth. You bite down on it and let your head fall back on the lumpy pillow.

Then, Jack pulls away. “The fuck?” you say it into his hand, so it’s a bit muffled.

“We’ve only got time for one thing. You’re gonna come when I do. Just had to get you ready.” He says.

You want to salute. You want to scream. You don’t really know how this is happening. 

Jack pulls off his boxers and you gulp. You see why he needed to get you ready. The length alone was bigger than anything you’ve taken, but he was girthy too. 

He pulls a condom out of a drawer in the room. “Did you stash that in here?” you laugh.

“No, they keep them in here. I always wondered why, but now I see.”

He rolls it on quickly and comes back to the bed. He rests on his heels, taking you in. “Are you sure?” Jack asks again.

“I’m positive. I’ve wanted this since I met you.”

He nods slowly, small smile coming to his lips. He moves so his hands are right next to your head. Jack lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in deep. 

“Shit,” he mumbles. “So fucking tight.”

“You feel so good,” you cry.

“Yeah? This good for you?” He sets a brutalizing pace, hips never faltering. His head falls into your neck again. “Your perfume is driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Could smell you whipping around this hospital. Every time you passed me, I thought I was going to have to take you right there.”

He’s rambling now, you realize. Pussydrunk from how you feel. 

“Maybe I’ll have to wear it more, break the rules a bit, if it leads to this.” you say, resisting the urge to moan in the middle of your sentences.

He pants, stifles his own noises. “You’re close,” you say.

“It’s been a while, every time I went on a date, I would just think of you.” 

“Is that true?”

“I’m already in your pants, no reason to lie.” his hips start to stutter. “Y’gonna come with me?”

You scope out the feeling in your stomach and focus in on it, Jack brings a hand down between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. “Fuck, God, yes. Yes, I am.”

The room is filled with heavy breaths, the air has gone thick. You spot a bolt of lightning run through the sky and grab Jack’s head, bringing his ear down to your mouth. “Now,” you whisper.

The thunder hits right as you both finish. It’s loud enough to mask the noises neither of you could hold back. He continues the pace until you come down. You both gasp into each other. Jack slowly pulls out, taking the condom over to the trash can and burying it under some paper towels. 

He comes back to the bed and sits on the edge, massaging your shin. “I’m gonna make an assumption and say that was the best sex of your life,” you scoff, but don’t deny it. “But, we have to get back.”

“I know,” you say, wishing you could stay in this room forever. “God, this is really gonna fuck with my work life balance.”

Jack laughs and stands up, placing a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, lucky girl. We’ll figure it out.”

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤHOW TO CAGE AN ANGELㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Terry McGinnis x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It started innocent.

You were just someone in his class. Or maybe someone who walked past him in the hall. Maybe you offered him a pen once. Maybe you made fun of his bad haircut. Whatever it was, it stuck. You stuck.

Terry noticed everything about you immediately—the way you smiled at people without thinking, how your voice got quieter when you were nervous, how you touched your wrist when you were lying.

He didn’t fall in love.

He clung.

See, Terry doesn’t love like normal people. He was too broken for that.

He lost his father, carries Gotham on his back, and lives under the crushing shadow of Bruce Wayne’s expectations. He’s always trying to prove himself, always trying to be good enough.

But you—you don’t ask anything of him. You don’t expect him to save the world. You don’t know what he does at night. You just laugh at his dumb jokes. You say his name like it means something. Like he matters.

That’s the moment it begins.

That’s when he starts following you after class. Not close enough to get caught. Just enough to make sure you get home safe. Just enough to memorize the streets you walk, the friends you meet, what songs you hum with your headphones on.

He tells himself it’s just to keep you safe. Gotham’s dangerous. He’s Batman. That’s what Batman does, right? Protect people.

But when he gets home, bleeding and bruised, and you text him some innocent, “Hey, class was wild today lol”—he smiles.

Really smiles.

He didn’t even know he could do that anymore.

And that terrifies him.

Because now he needs you.

The obsession blooms.

He finds himself canceling missions just to hear your voice. He lies to Bruce. He ignores Dana. He checks your social media constantly. He watches your window from a rooftop two blocks away at night—making sure the light turns off when you fall asleep.

He knows he shouldn’t.

He knows.

But guilt never stopped Terry from doing something self-destructive.

He’s possessive in subtle ways.

When someone flirts with you, they get mugged later. Nothing serious. Just a reminder.

When you mention liking someone? That person suddenly transfers schools, moves away, or ends up in the ER after a freak accident.

Terry never tells you. He just listens with that calm, distant smile.

“Guess they weren’t good enough for you anyway.”

And you think he’s just being sweet.

The line is crossed slowly.

You start dating someone. He spirals.

That’s the night he beats a gang leader half to death. That’s the night Bruce yells at him, says he’s losing control.

But you… you’re worth it.

You’re the only peace he has.

So he breaks up with Dana. He watches your boyfriend like a hawk. He sabotages you slowly. Emotional warfare. Gaslighting through fake accounts. Rumors.

Until one day, you show up at school, eyes red. You broke up.

And Terry’s there. Always there.

You cry into his chest. He holds you like he’s comforting you, but inside?

He’s elated.

You tell him you’re tired.

He tells you, “I’ve got you.”

You don’t even realize you never had a choice.

The confession is messy.

It’s late. He’s in your room. Unmasked. Vulnerable. His face bloody.

He tells you everything—how much you mean to him, how he can’t breathe without you, how he thinks about you every second, how he loves you.

There’s tears in his eyes. Real ones.

He’s shaking.

And when you flinch? When you whisper, “Terry… you’re scaring me”?

He doesn’t get angry.

He gets broken.

“No, no—I didn’t mean to. I just—I needed you to know. I need you. You’re the only thing keeping me sane. I wouldn’t hurt you. Never you.”

He’s on his knees. Not even noticing how he’s bleeding all over your carpet.

Not even noticing how his voice cracked.

He’d die for you. Kill for you.

But more than anything, he wants to be enough for you.

So he gives you space. Pretends to back off.

But the obsession doesn’t end.

He watches you every night still.

He listens to your phone calls.

He deletes your texts to other people.

He’s just… waiting.

For the moment you realize—he’s all you’ve got.

He’s all you’ll ever need.

Because in Terry’s mind?

You were his the moment you smiled at him.

You just don’t know it yet.

You tried to distance yourself.

After that night—the confession—you stopped answering his messages.

You stopped opening your curtains.

You switched your routes home.

You tried to forget the way he looked at you. Like you were his God. Like he’d burn down Gotham if it meant keeping you safe.

Like he already had.

But he’s still there.

Always there.

Not in your face. He’s smart. Calculated. Trained.

You don’t see him. But you feel him.

A weight on your chest when you walk alone at night. A flicker of something on the rooftop. A phone call that drops as soon as you answer.

You dream of red eyes in the dark.

You wake up with your bedroom window open.

Terry doesn’t sleep much these days.

He doesn’t need to. Not when you’re all he thinks about.

He watches your life like it’s a show only he gets to see.

You smile again. Laugh again. Start healing.

It kills him.

Not because he wants you broken—

No.

Because you’re moving on without him.

And that terrifies him more than anything else.

He tries to be better.

He tells Bruce he needs time.

Says he’s burning out. That the suit’s too heavy.

But really—he just wants to see you. Without the cowl. Without guilt. Without fear.

He runs into you at a corner store.

On purpose.

“Hey,” he says, voice casual, eyes tired. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

You freeze. But he’s warm. Smiling. Kind.

He buys your snacks. Walks you home. Doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t mention that night.

Just listens.

And for a second…

You let your guard down.

That’s all he needs.

The moment you smile at him again, the moment you say his name without hate—he’s hooked all over again.

He starts sending you anonymous gifts.

Small things: your favorite candy, books you mentioned once, a necklace that looks way too expensive for a high school dropout.

He never asks for anything in return.

Just… waits.

Watches.

Until one day you ask him for help.

It’s late. You’re scared. Someone’s following you. You text him.

He’s there in under five minutes.

Not as Batman.

Just Terry.

He doesn’t say “I told you so.” Doesn’t say, “I never stopped watching you.”

He just holds you.

Breathes you in like a lifeline.

And when you say, “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

His hand tightens on your back.

His heart skips a beat.

Because now?

Now you’re his.

It turns possessive. Quietly.

He shows up whenever someone talks to you too long.

He sits beside you like it’s natural. Like it’s always been that way.

People stop texting you. Stop calling.

He deletes their messages.

Blocks them while you're asleep.

They’re not good for you. He is.

You start to feel alone.

Isolated.

He’s the only one still here.

And he’s perfect.

Attentive. Gentle.

The boy who always picks you up, always listens, always looks at you like you're made of stars.

Until you ask him what he wants.

And he tells you the truth.

“I want you. Every part of you.

Not just the happy pieces. Not just the light. I want the parts you hide.

The ones you’re ashamed of.

I want your scars. Your dreams. Your fucking soul.

And if you can’t give it to me yet… that’s okay.

I’ll wait.

But just know—no one else gets you.

Ever.”

And his voice is so soft.

So gentle.

So sure.

You should run.

You know that.

But his hands are warm. His eyes are kind.

And the world outside is cold.

So you stay.

Just a little longer.

You thought maybe it would fade.

That the tension, the weight of his gaze, the whispers behind every gentle word would settle into something normal.

Because Terry was kind. Funny. Gentle, even.

He helped you study. He let you borrow his jacket when it rained. He fixed your door without asking.

But there was always something in his eyes.

Something that said, “You belong to me.”

You ignored it.

Because he made you feel safe.

Because the world was loud and cruel and full of people who didn’t look at you like you mattered.

Terry worshipped you.

He’d kill for you.

You didn’t know he already had.

It slips one night.

A party. You drag him along.

You tell him you need a break.

“No Batman. No Gotham. No weird, dark poetry. Just… normal.”

He agrees.

Smiles.

Even wears that ridiculous button-up you teased him about.

You’re laughing, drunk on music and cheap soda. You’re dancing with a friend.

And Terry—he’s watching. Always watching.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just burns holes into the back of your friend’s head.

And when the guy’s hand slides a little too low?

You barely register the shift in the room.

You don’t see Terry follow him outside.

Don’t hear the soft thud of a skull against brick.

Your friend just doesn’t come back.

You ask about him.

Terry shrugs. “He left.”

And you believe him.

Because Terry wouldn’t lie to you… right?

You get close. Too close.

One night, you fall asleep on his chest.

And Terry doesn’t sleep.

He just lies there, staring at the ceiling, your heartbeat echoing against him like a song.

He whispers things you never hear.

“I’d never let anything hurt you.”

“I’d kill the world for you.”

“I wish you loved me like I love you.”

He holds you tighter in the dark.

Like if he lets go, you’ll vanish.

Because in his mind, you’re not real.

You’re a dream. A miracle. The only beautiful thing left in his broken, blood-soaked world.

He’s scared if he blinks, you’ll disappear.

You kiss him.

It’s soft. Hesitant. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you’re tired of pretending he isn’t everything to you.

Maybe part of you wants to belong to him.

His hands tremble when he touches your face.

He kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll break. Like he’s never been this close to heaven before.

But something in him shifts.

Clicks.

This is real.

This is his.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just watches you sleep again that night.

But when you leave the next day—

He follows.

Terry becomes more careful.

Not distant. Just… controlled.

He can’t risk losing you now.

He starts tracking everyone you talk to.

Hacks your phone.

Puts a tracker in your bag “just in case.”

He starts showing up in places you never told him about.

He always has a reason.

And you want to confront him—God, you should—but every time you try, he disarms you with that soft, tired smile.

The one that says he’d rather die than hurt you.

And maybe that’s true.

But he’d kill anyone else in a heartbeat.

Then you find it.

His apartment.

A drawer. Locked.

And inside—

Photos of you.

Hair.

Receipts from every place you’ve ever been.

A copy of your house key.

The necklace you lost last year.

You freeze.

The room spins.

And behind you, the door creaks open.

Terry’s voice is calm.

“Looking for something?”

You turn. He’s not angry. Not surprised. Just… resigned.

“I didn’t want you to find it like this,” he says.

“I wanted to tell you. But you’d leave. And I can’t—”

His voice cracks.

“I can’t lose you.”

You back away. He lets you.

Because Terry doesn’t force you to stay.

He just makes sure you never have anywhere else to go.

And now?

He’s watching. Waiting.

Because you’ve seen the truth.

And you haven’t run.

Yet.

He calls it love.

You’re starting to wonder if it’s something else.

Something deeper.

Something darker.

But when he kisses your forehead and says,

“I’ll protect you. Always.”

It almost sounds like a promise.

Almost.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[spaceyaemonds]

god i love this premise, it’s so hilarious that Jack would wind up with a young baby mama. It’d be fun to think of this as pre-canon. So she can kinda fit in the whole first season, like a super young mom coming in to treat a burn or something with a little kid, she’s being seen by a resident whose like so unaware and then boom, Jack walks in and the gossip/stares start. I think Jack can’t really ignore what it looks like but would be annoyed by the stares but ultimately wouldn’t care. And she would just be like *shrugs* “he’s super hot”

Also I am eagerly waiting on the hilarious interaction of Jack telling Robby and Dana. “What’s worse than knocking up your one night stand?” “Um, she’s 23.” “Jesus Christ”

Or maybe when they go out they keep calling Jack grandpa. Or just the heavy looks when they see this very young milf smile around Jack. Just the heavy stares from Robby and Dana as they watch this young family grow lol.

I also think they could have this really cute but kinda dysfunctional family dynamic. Yes they have a healthy coparenting relationship. Dad is teaching the kid survival skills and taking him on camping excursions where they test said survival skills. Yes Mom is chill as hell, and spills tea about the crazy office dynamics while she crafts with her kid. And lowkey loves being a hot mom. Like yes mom and dad sometimes smash because they have needs and it’s just less mess and complication when they have this somewhat dysfunctional FWB situation, that has potential to blossom into something bigger.

Anyways I love this mini series it’s serious feeding me, that man is so fine with the salt and pepper hair. I can’t wait to read more.

hi friend!!! i am so so glad you have been enjoying this mini series!!!! i have loved sharing it with everyone here!! omg same, i am so obsessed with him he makes me SICKKK!

ahh!! i have a lot to say on this so answering under the cut!!

it is very funny to imagine jack getting off of shift on the day and hours into the day reader shows up in the ed with their (fat, because i love fat babies) baby, maybe two years old. baby slipped and bumped their head, and she doesn’t want to bother jack so she takes baby alone. she somehow misses robby and dana, ends up with whitaker, of all people. maybe perlah or princess notice baby abbot’s name on the board, immediately tell dana, who makes a quick call to jack. whitaker goes to check over the baby, and jack immediately jerks the door open, “get the hell away from my kid.” and whitaker just looks between reader, the baby, and jack, on the verge of throwing up. santos and mel are right outside when they hear everything and immediately are all 😮👀

dana and robby’s reactions are as expected. dana is majorly side eyeing, and robby is just like “jesus christ! twenty-three?!?!” and jack doesn’t even really try to defend himself. standing there like a puppy getting scolded lol.

i like to think that reader very often gets hit on, guys closer in age to her walking up to her when she’s with jack and baby abbot at the park, asking if her dad can keep an eye on the baby and maybe they can grab dinner. it always makes her laugh, and infuriates jack, has him mumbling all kinds of stuff like “sure, dad can watch baby.” because he understands that she’s a beautiful girl, but he can’t deny the jealousy he feels when people hit on her in front of him.

jack loves nothing more than spending time with his baby. more often than not, after a hard shift, he finds his way to her house, just asking to take a peek at baby but ends up sleeping on the floor next to the crib. and more often than not, he spends his nights off there, ending up in readers bed. he isn’t interested in seeing anyone else, and she can’t imagine dating when there’s so much tension and longing between her and jack.

i think it takes some time, but they do eventually end up together. they’ve lowkey just been together, though, just not official. jack never felt the need to try to put a label on it because he’s worried about “forcing” her into something she doesn’t want. he knows how he feels, and though is never 100% on how exactly she feels, he knows there’s something there. i also don’t think they ever really officially date. i like to imagine jack maybe just slips a ring on her finger one night, and they get married not long after!

[nellasbookplanet]

I'm hardly the first to make this observation, but the problem with many self-proclaimed cozy stories is that they're so scared to take risks, scared to do anything that could make the reader even slightly uncomfortable, because being uncomfortable isn’t very cozy. Characters lack in flaws and messiness; conflict is lackluster or quickly resolved or avoided altogether; a darker moment must always be followed by a peptalk, never lingered on; moral ambiguity is eschewed, because anything else would be problematic and messy. If a main character has flaws it’s always those of the good victim, someone who needs to heal and be validated but not grow and be challenged. Challenge, of character or reader, is anathema.

As I'm playing Stray, I'm struck by the thought that this is quite possibly the coziest piece of media I've ever experienced. You're playing as a little kitty cat. You’re carrying around a tiny robot companion in a backpack. Your enemies are tiny white blobs called zorks. There are game mechanics to meow and scratch up people's walls and furniture and knock paint cans off shelves and take naps. The pacing rarely rushes you, rather actively encourages you to slow down. You can stop and listen to a guy play guitar, or look for flowers to gift someone, or take a nap on a cushion while beautiful scenery full of plants and fairy lights roll by.

But it’s also a game set in the ruins of a near dead world. The cute blobs will eat you alive. The robot you're carrying is an uploaded mind earnestly struggling through an existential crisis and mourning an entire species. Under the plants and the fairy lights is garbage and rust and buildings falling apart. There’s no sunlight. There are creepy eyes watching you in the sewers. There’s classism and oppression and the downfall of man.

And through it all, the robots who inherited the world are working so hard to find pockets of hope and happiness. They paint and play music and play games and dance and grow plants and create cozy little homes for themselves. They resist for the sake of freedom and autonomy, they create an entire language, they dream of a world most think they'll never see.

This dichotomy of dark and light is something I see often in (better) cozy media. Dungeon Meshi is a fun cozy adventure where they make delicious food and talk about self-care. It's also about grief and the inevitability of death and the impacts of social inequalities. The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet is a cozy found family road trip in space; it’s also about the difficulties of understanding each other across cultural barriers and the massive ramifications when we refuse to do so. Legends and Lattes is basically a dnd coffeshop au; it’s also about struggling to find happiness and purpose and self-worth after a life of violence, not knowing if you're able to successfully achieve anything but bloodshed. And All the Stars is full of found family and pastries and characters just hanging out; all of this happens as they're hiding and fleeing from invading aliens who see them as nothing but a resurce to be used. One of my favorite episodes of critical role is the beach episode of c2, where they basically just hang out; this happens soon after they buried their friend who died trying to save them, as they're trying to figure out who they are and what they want after his loss.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? Any story that is uniformly the same thing all the way through ends up as bland. A grimdark story that never offers respite or moments of hope will numb you to the horrors, removing their bite. A cozy story that offers nothing to be struggled against, nothing for which cozy moments and aesthetics is a break, lacks impact. A story needs ups and downs, a rhythm of misery and hope.

[resident-gay-bitch]

Post upside down Steddie become kinda friends, they hang around eachother a lot because they both like to hang around the freshmen (they’re both anxiously attached to the kids and need to keep them safe 24/7)

Steve kinda thinks Eddie’s cute and dorky but doesn’t really give it much more thought because it’s pointless and Eddie is trying to get over his pointless crush on Steve because even though he’s actually not an awful person anymore he’s still Steve Harrington and that’s embarrassing for Eddie

Until one afternoon Eddie starts giving Lucas shit because he wants to play a oneshot with the kids but the weather is nice so Steve asked him to shoot some hoops and Eddie can’t believe Lucas would — again — choose stupid sport over D&D - goes on his whole laundry baskets spiel

And Steve just Doesn’t wanna hear it.

“Hey man, I get it alright, jocks fucking bullied you in school, sure you can have a problem with that but You’re a fucking bully foo Eddie. You talk about prejudice against those different to you, how about you hating anyone that’s not a fucking freak? You can’t just hate someone cause they like playin ball. Grow up man, get over yourself. You think it’s impressive that I changed since highschool? The day that You change and get some compassion will be the day that pigs fucking fly! Come on Lucas, let’s get out of here”

And Eddie just… he just… he falls in love immediately. He’s never had someone brave enough to talk to him like that before (besides Wayne and Hopper), can’t believe Steve has a big enough heart that he’d go off at Eddie like that, not to mention he’s even hotter when he’s mad and that anger is directed right at Eddie. And so he begins to Pineeeeeeeeeee. And he also thinks about what Steve said to him, talks to Wayne about it, realises that Steve’s actually right and starts to make a change.

After that day, Steve’s crush Dissapears. He can’t believe he ever was attracted to an asshole like that, someone that spent his whole life being made fun of for his interests going out of his way to make fun of someone else for his interests. Steve just doesn’t like that at all.

And so, the slowburn of Eddie growing and making himself a better person and genuinely making those changes in his life, and trying his best to play it cool around Steve, and Steve begging to see those changes in Eddie’s growth and begging to fall in love with him too.

And once they’re together, because Steve is a big believer in second chances so long as you prove you deserve one, Eddie admits that Steve was the first person to ever really stand up to him without fear, and that he really respects Steve for it, and so Steve will always tell Eddie when he’s in the wrong and Eddie really appreciates it and makes that change. And Eddie does the same for Steve too.

They just make eachother better because they believe in being better. They believe in kindness and forgiveness and compassion.

[katsu28]

oooh kait i love the list!!

what about lando + 50. putting a hand over the other's mouth where lando is yapping abt smth?

got a little carried away with this but fuck it we ball

lando norris x sainz!reader, 1.7k. request something from here :)

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You glance up from your phone to see a grinning Lando leaned up against the wall next to you, and you raise an amused brow. “It’s my brother’s wedding.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was just—” 

“Why would I not be here?” 

“Jesus, I was just trying to be funny, you don't have to be mean about it,” He huffs, bumping his shoulder against yours with a roll of his eyes. 

“Sorry, Lan. You’re just too fun to mess with.” You tease, reaching out to pinch Lando’s cheek. 

He scowls, batting your hand away haphazardly. “Carlos said you were gonna be here early to help get everything settled.” 

“Aw, were you waiting for me?” 

“No, I wasn't.” You shoot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, maybe I was. I had to work with your great aunt, and lemme tell you, that woman is handsy.” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

“I know. All because you abandoned me.” 

“I had to help Rebecca with some last minute adjustments. And besides, It takes time to look this good, Norris,” You tut, gesturing towards yourself. The bridesmaid dresses Rebecca had picked out are absolutely gorgeous. Hopefully gorgeous enough to get you what you want. 

“You do look amazing,” Lando murmurs, eyes not-so-subtly raking up and down your body a little too long to be considered innocent. Mission accomplished. 

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself,” You reply, letting your gaze do the same. His tailored suit fits him wonderfully, and his hair is styled to perfection. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his curls and ruin it by pulling him close. 

Things between Lando and yourself are…complicated, to say the least. You were both young when you’d met, all the way back in 2019 when Carlos had done his time with McLaren. Since then, you’ve both grown up, kept in touch, and somewhere along the way, you’d come to a realization. 

You like Lando. A lot. And you think he might like you back, but neither of you have done anything about it. You flirt with each other like people who have feelings for each other and tease each other like friends, dancing around the elephant in the room whenever you’re in the same vicinity. 

It certainly doesn’t help that Lando is one of your brother’s best friends. He looks up to Carlos, respects him as a mentor, and wouldn’t dare make a move against his baby sister. But honestly, you wish he just would. This back and forth is starting to get a little old. 

Now is as good a time as any, with Carlos distracted on his big day. And what was that again people said about weddings being the perfect chance for blossoming romance? 

Someone with a headset and a clipboard comes up and whispers something in your ear, cutting your moment with Lando short. You stow away your phone in your purse, already prepared to follow them to attend to whatever needs doing. 

“Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Lan,” You say, straightening Lando’s tie with a sweet smile aimed at him. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Lando chuckles, looking equal parts fond and amused. “I’ll try my best.” 

The next time you see him is right before you're meant to walk down the aisle together. You take your mark right next to him, smoothing out your dress one last time before looping your arm through his. 

He leans towards you, lips almost brushing your ear with his whisper. “Missed you.” 

“Thought you said you’d try your best not to?” 

“Guess it wasn't good enough. Listen, can we talk later?” 

He sounds uncharacteristically serious, and it has you giving him a cautious sideways glance. “Of course,” You say. You nudge him gently with your elbow. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s good. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” 

“Well, now that you tell me not to worry, I think I might,” You reply, brows furrowing. 

“Then don’t.” 

“Seriously, Lando? You couldn't have waited until after the ceremony for this? I mean, honestly—” 

Suddenly his lips are on your cheek briefly, causing your outburst to die off mid sentence. You stiffen momentarily at the unexpected action. When you turn to gawk at him, he’s looking straight ahead, a satisfied little smile gracing his face. 

You don’t have time to process anything any further before you're being guided towards the beginning of the aisle. Straightening up, throwing your shoulders back, you tighten your fingers around your bouquet of flowers. 

Now isn’t the time. 

The ceremony goes swimmingly. There isn’t a dry eye in the place at seeing just how much Carlos and Rebecca love and cherish each other. Every so often, you’ll catch Lando’s eye across the aisle and he’ll wink back at you, settling your nerves at standing up there in front of everyone. 

You start to wonder what he wants to talk to you about. Your mind immediately goes to the worst possible thing, but surely it can’t be too bad. Right?

Lando doesn’t bring it up until well into the reception. He catches your eye from afar, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. Everyone is on the dance floor now, nobody would notice if you left. 

He slips out of the large hall silently and you follow a few seconds later, only startling a little bit when he grabs your hand and leads you further down the corridor until you can’t hear the lively music anymore. 

“What’s going on, Lando?”

He drops your hand in favor of starting to pace, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “I’m gonna be really honest with you right now. Probably brutally honest. And it might fuck things up, but I think I might explode if I keep it in any longer.” 

“Uh…okay. That sounds concerning,” You say hesitantly, shifting on your feet. 

“It is. I mean, no, it’s not, it’s nothing but, I just…” 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, because you look absolutely stunning,” He blurts. “But not just today. I wanna kiss you all the time, and I know—I know I probably shouldn’t because Carlos is one of my best mates and you’re his little sister and he’d likely kick my ass if he ever finds out, but I don’t care, I—” 

“Lando,” You interrupt, fighting to keep your voice level. Finally, finally, something is happening. 

He continues on as if he hadn’t heard you at all. “—can’t keep doing this…this whatever thing we’ve been doing. I really like you, and I need you to know that even if it ruins our friendship.” 

Normally you’d entertain his yapping tendencies, but you want to tell Lando you feel the same way and he just keeps on talking like he’s the only one in this conversation, so you’re left with no choice. 

You push him back against the wall behind him with one hand splayed across his chest, the other hand coming up to cover his mouth. Lando’s ranting dies off the moment your hand touches his face, like you’ve just found his off switch and powered him down. 

“Can you please just shut up for a second?” You say exasperatedly. He nods quickly, completely doe eyed under your palm. “You gonna let me talk now?” Another nod, this one a little slower. “Good. I like you too. Have for ages.” 

Lando’s fingers curl around your wrist, prying your hand away from his mouth with furrowed brows. “You—you do? Really? Why’ve you never said anything?”

“Why haven’t you?” You shoot back, cocking your head. 

“Because…because!” He says incredulously, wrinkling his nose. “You’re Carlos’s little sister, I—he’d have my head.” 

You scoff. “Carlos isn’t my keeper, Lando. I’m an adult, I can make my own choices without having to consult my brother. If I want to date you, I can!” 

Lando’s gaze sharpens, the edges of his mouth curving into a smug little smile, and you know you’re in for it now. 

“Then let me take you out. On a proper date,” He proposes. It’s a bold move, considering you’ve still got him pinned against the wall with one hand, but his bluntness makes your focus flicker. 

Lando takes the opening and makes his move, now suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall and he’s pushed himself closer than you’ve ever been before. For someone who was just worried about Carlos finding out mere seconds ago, he seems quite confident. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” You ask softly, searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. What you’ve wanted for a long time is finally happening, but that doesn’t make you any less wary. If anything, it feels even more daunting. 

Slowly, Lando’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek almost delicately, like he’s afraid you might disappear into thin air if he moves too fast. His tongue darts out to wet his lips just before he leans in, deft fingers shifting from your cheek down under your chin, tilting your head up just enough to meet him in a gentle kiss. 

His lips are softer than you expect, tasting a little like the rum and cokes he’s been nursing all night mixed with something else sweet, and definitely living up to every dream you’ve ever had about this very moment. 

Lando’s thumb rubs along your cheek, a soft smile playing across his face when you break apart. “Believe me, I’m more sure about you than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” 

You smooth out the lapels of his suit jacket from where your fingers had bunched into the material, beaming at him happily. “Always such a sweet talker, you.”

“Worked on you, didn’t it? I mean, it took years, but I’ve got you now, don’t I?” 

“Depends on where you take me on our date,” You joke. 

“Oh, I’ll take you anywhere you want, baby. Name it and it’s done.” 

“A sweet talker and a smooth talker. That could come in handy for when Carlos finds out.”

“No, it—why?” His voice squeaks on the last word, eyes widening almost comically.

You give his chest a firm pat, ducking out from under his arm to return to the reception. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, hm?”

“Sweetheart, c’mon! He won’t try to fight me, right? Right?” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[gallavichsreddie1128]

If She Knew.....(Joel Miller)

Description: Y/N is Ellie’s big sister and is engaged to Joel behind her back. (Takes place in season 2)

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,300

Author’s Note: Will make this a series as the show goes on.

Y/N smirked and laughed as Ellie shouted that she was immune. She didn’t wanna be a bad influence and get away with crazy shit but that’s what big sisters are for. Tommy was annoyed with Ellie fucking around so much but glared at Y/N for encouraging Ellie but Y/N couldn’t take away the fun for Ellie. Y/N was keeping a secret from Ellie and felt guilty about it but knew that Ellie wouldn’t approve of it so she had to keep it a secret.

Y/N was dating Joel and had an engagement ring that she had to hide from Ellie. She hated keeping it from Ellie but she knew that Ellie would never forgive either of them if she found out. She already was on the fence with Joel and had been for awhile. “Ellie let’s go.” Y/N said to her sister who had no shame in screaming to the world that she was immune.

They all got back on their horses and headed back to town. Y/N smiled at the thought of Joel with his glasses and looking over the map and trying his hardest to help people out. Her smile dropped as she thought of the fact that she was keeping her relationship with Joel from Ellie. 

Y/N walked into Joel’s office with a smile. He looked up at her, “Hey.” He said and removed his glasses. “Don’t stop on my account.” She said, swaying her hips as she walked over to him. “You’re a distraction.” He joked and she laughed as she got on his lap, his arms going around her waist. She leaned down and kissed him a few times, making him slap her ass, “It’s tempting.” He mumbles and she laughs, pulling away from the kiss.

“Can’t blame a lady for trying.” He sighed and stared at her, “How’s Ellie?” He asked and Y/N saw the sadness in his eyes. She hated the way Ellie was treating him but she was still young and hated being told what to do. “She’s okay. She’s shameless, that's for sure.” Y/N cupped Joel’s face. “She’ll come around.” She mumbled before giving him a passionate kiss. Joel kissed back and squeezed her ass, causing her to gasp. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue in her mouth.

Her hands moved to his salt and pepper hair before tugging at it a little, making him groan. “We can’t. Not here.” He mumbled against her lips. She sighed but pulled away from his lips. “Have you been wearing your ring?” He asked and she shrugged, “Not around Ellie, I don’t want her to ask questions.” She looked down, the last part coming out as a whisper. Joel cupped her face, “I get it. I never have to hide it from her. I barely see her.” She gave him a sad smile, “I’m sure that if she found out that’ll give her more leverage to avoid me and start avoiding you.” Y/N sighs at his words but knows that he was right.

“Yeah I don’t think she’d approve either.” She whispered and shook her head, “The age difference is a big thing but the fact that we’ve kept it from her for so long…I just know that she would hate us even more.” Y/N knew that this wouldn’t help Joel’s feelings but they can grieve together. The truth was that Ellie was going to find out eventually, whether they liked it or not. 

“You going?” Y/N asked Ellie as she did her hair in the garage. Y/N wanted to laugh about how much Joel despised Ellie living in it but held it back. The garage was very nice but it was an escape from everything..from Joel. “Possibly.” Ellie said and looked at her big sister. “I think you should, maybe you can make a move on Dina.” Y/N winked at Ellie who flushed red. “Oh my god.” She groaned and Y/N laughed before there was a knock at the door.

Y/N knew it was Joel but looked at Ellie, “Come in.” Ellie said and seemed shallow. Joel entered and tried to hide his awe at Y/N. She looked beautiful. Ellie didn’t even look at Joel when she spoke which hurt his feelings but then he offered to fix her guitar strings and Y/N saw that Ellie felt bad. “I’ll see ya there.” Y/N told her as she left the garage with Joel. “She hates me.” “Joel” Y/N hated that he felt that way about the situation and frankly Ellie would warm back up to him.

“She barely looked at me, Y/N.” He said once they were inside the house. “I know and I know how you feel but she will come around.” Y/N tried to plead but Joel wasn’t having it. He shook his head and sat down on the couch, putting the guitar down. Y/N walked over to him and got in his lap. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered to her and she smiled.

“Yeah? Maybe you should do something about it, Miller.” She teased him and he pulled her closer so they could kiss. She moaned softly into the kiss, finally relieved that they had alone time. Their kiss got more heated and she pulled away, “Joel, I would have sex with you anywhere but I prefer the bed.” She whispered in his ear before playfully biting it. 

“Joel.” She moaned softly in his ear as he fucked her. “Feels so good, baby.” She whimpered and closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of him groaning in her ear. His hips weren’t going fast but hard and slow, just how she liked it. They had time to spare while Ellie was at the party. Her hands gripped his back, making him groan.

“Your pussy feels incredible.” He told her and she clenched around him, causing him to grunt. “Fuck, do that again.” He demanded and she did, this time he moaned. A sound that she loved and always made it her mission to get him to make those sounds.

“Joel, I’m close.” She warned as she felt her climax approaching, it was then that his hips picked up speed to help her. “Cum for me.” He begged and her eyes rolled as she did. He knew just what she would do and stared at her reaction that helped him reach his peak. He groaned her name loudly as he came. “Fuck.” She giggled and pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Do I look like I’ve just had hot sex?” She asked Joel as she fixed her hair. He chuckled, “No, should we go again?” She laughed at the joke before pulling him outside and to the event. When they got there, it was at the right time. Ellie and Dina were kissing and Seth had called them dykes which made Joel freak out and push him.

Ellie was mad about that and Y/N could see it on her face but this was her baby sister so she was going to protect her, “Get the fuck out.” She growled at Seth. “What the hell are you guys doing?” She asked Joel and Y/N. Before Y/N could speak Ellie was already talking, “I don’t need your help.” Y/N opened her mouth to say something but closed it, realizing that Ellie could protect herself but it was the big sister instinct in her.

“Right.” Joel said before leaving Y/N walked after him calling his name. “Joel.” He turned to her, “She hates me, Y/N. There's your proof.” He told her and she sighed, “Joel, she even snapped at me. She wanted to look big in front of Dina.” Y/N tried to reason but Joel grunted something and started walking. Y/N knew that there was no way for her to prove it without Ellie but she knew that Ellie didn’t hate Joel.

[softsunnyy]

both obsessed but with her doming quinn

i'm sorry it took me so long, hon. I hope u like it. I had so much fun writing this !!

🚨when two people are obsessed, period sex, stalking, subby quinn, oral sex, tying his wrists to the headboard, not caring what he wants, cumming inside you, idk what else 🚨

poorly written

you're upset, you get irritated easily. You've been feeling bad all week, being a little explosive, and even getting mad at Quinn. But today? Today reached another level when you got up, went to the bathroom, and realized you'd stained your poor panties.

you'd reached another level of frustration, and it's weird. Normally, your periods and the days before work differently, and while you can have mood swings, nothing comes close to this. It's like you're on edge all the time and don't know how to calm down, your breathing heavy and your shoulders tense every second.

now, anger isn't the only thing you've been feeling. In the moments where you feel a little calmer, you're incredibly needy, your pussy soaking wet in minutes, begging for a certain guy's attention. But Quinn can't help you because he's been too busy, so you can only watch him leave in the mornings, leaving a small kiss on your forehead.

you've followed him, seen him with the team day, noon, and night, as if they couldn't let him go for even a second. As if he'd suddenly forgotten about you.

in a way, this fuels your anger even more, and you want revenge, you wanna do something about it, but just when you had it all planned, your period arrives, punishing you, as if your body knew you were going to commit a sin.

you spend the rest of that day irritated, exploding at everyone, even getting kicked out of one of your classes because you genuinely couldn't control your speech. When you got home, with a unbearable pain and in a bad mood, you decided that touching yourself wasn't a bad idea, so you did it, taking advantage of being alone in your bedroom.

you imagine Quinn, his hands, his mouth, his beard, his eyes, his muscles, his voice. The memory is so vivid that your fingers move faster as they rub your clit, and when you come, you do it thinking of him, wishing he was there with you.

the next day, you try to have a little more faith, because he'd promised you. He told you his day would be more relaxing, that he didn't have to go to practice, and that he'd stay so he could take care of you. But when you wake up, on the second day of your period, feeling like shit and searching for his body and his warmth, the first thing you notice is that he's no longer in bed with you. Your eyes open, full of venom, and you search for him, noticing how silently he puts on that piece of clothing. That damn beanie that only means one thing.

he's leaving again.

he seems to sense your gaze, because he turns to look at you, his eyes filled with guilt, his hands frozen in the beanie. He clears his throat, trying to gather the courage to speak to you, easily seeing how incredibly upset you are.

“hey, uh, sorry, they called me last minute, they need me there…” he said, a little hesitantly, his gaze lowering.

your jaw is clenched, and you hate the thought of him leaving you again. He would have tied you to the bed, forced you to stay, without begging, without even bothering too much. He would have been calm, controlled, perfectly calculated, knowing just what to do to make you stay, so why are you being so peaceful?

you get out of bed before he can react, your body burning. You're almost steaming from your ears, but you still walk calmly until you're in front of him, your hands touching his abdomen over his shirt, feeling his heavy and restless breathing.

“you're leaving me again.” your voice was clear, but calm. There was a distinct darkness and discomfort, but your face held no grimace.

“i know, i'm really sorry…” he started once more, but was interrupted by your hands moving up his chest, to his shoulders, your face getting closer and closer to his.

“you’re leaving me,” you said again, looking into his eyes. Your gaze is mesmerizing, filled with a different kind of venom, as if it were the fruit of sin. Quinn feels suffocated by the way you look at him, and he can’t resist it, putting his hands on your waist, trying to keep you close, like something stronger were uniting you. “Are you sure you wanna leave me alone?”

what’s that supposed to mean? Quinn doesn’t know, and you can see it on his face, as well as feel it in the way his hands squeeze your body.

“i don’t want to, but i have to go…” he tried to answer, but you shook your head, starting to place small kisses from his jaw to his neck.

“you have to go?” you asked, your hot breath hitting his skin. Your kisses are wet, and then you started to bite, feeling him tense under your touch. His hands slide slowly to the top of your ass, but you stop him, one of your hands reaching down to stop him. You pull away to look at him, and he looks betrayed, desperate, needy.

guilt hits really hard, uh?

your eyes lower to his lips, and he unconsciously runs his tongue over them. That drove you to action, joining your mouth to his. His self-control fading, his desires much louder than his conscience, than his reasoning. Soon, practice was forgotten as he reciprocated your kiss, moving his lips in time with yours.

still, you know you haven't won yet, so you let him feel a little dominant, in control. You want him to feel safe. You want him to lose himself in the sensations before you do your thing.

one of your hands removes his beanie, tossing it somewhere across the room, then tangling in his hair, tugging gently, as you let him slip his hands under your shirt, able to touch your bare tits, your hard nipples, eagerly awaiting him. He massages, squeezes, plays with them the way he knows you like. It makes you whimper, and you let him put his tongue in your mouth. Exploring, dominating.

a huge battle is raging inside you. You feel like you're on fire. You're upset at the thought of him almost leaving you alone, almost breaking his promise and abandoning you when you need him, when you need his warmth, his touch to feel better. And you're also horny, with his hands holding your body in that possessive way, knowing what you like. You have him where you want him, and this control over his mind is addictive, too pleasurable.

his kisses begin to trail down your neck, and you feel him bite, suck, leaving his trail all over your skin. Your pussy is soaked at this point, too eager, throbbing. Your aches are forgotten, your clit sensitive, swollen. You need him, so you slowly go back to the bed, and he? he´s too focused on touching you, on making your nipples ache.

you made him fall onto the bed, you on his lap, and from that moment on, he must have known he'd lost all control over you.

you rubbed against him, feeling his bulge harden. He groaned, gripping your waist, making your movements stronger, making you really feel him.

you slowly lift his shirt until he helps you take it off. His exposed chest showed you a huge problem. You haven't had fun in so long that your marks are starting to fade. That finally drove you mad. You couldn't help it. You started leaving bite marks on his chest. It was too much; you wanted to make your point. He lets you do whatever you want, enjoying, feeling his own nipples sensitive from your attention on his chest, and when you notice it, you decide to give them a little attention, licking, sucking, tugging on them like he loves to do with yours, and he shudders, feeling strangely good.

his cock is completely hard, you can feel it, so you stop paying attention to his chest, parting slightly, smiling, appreciating what you'd done to his skin. Then you forced him to lie down, still on his lap. You kissed him, you sweetened him. You let his mind cloud until he couldn't stop you anymore, and then you stood up. He looked at you, incredulous, but you made sure he didn't move, gave you a few seconds, and you began to undress in front of him.

you know he's staring at your tits, like a fool, and then his eyes stop at your shorts, sliding down your legs, showing him your panties, letting him see your whole body, knowing that he loves it. His eyes seem to beg you, asking if it's okay for him to take off his pants, to touch himself.

"go ahead, take off your pants, i'll just get something," you instructed, turning around when you saw him hurrying to remove the rest of his clothes. His eyes were fixed on the way your ass bounced with every step you took to the closet.

he's so lost in you that he doesn't even notice you took something out of his clothes, much less that you hid it in your fist. Your tits were a much more interesting sight for him.

when you reached him, his cock was free, standing proud, big, delicious. Sitting on his lap made both of you moan, your pussy, still covered by your panties, rubbing against him. And it was when his hands were about to touch you that you stopped him, grabbing his wrists and pulling them to the headboard. Before he could even think about it, you tied him up, using his ties, being quick, precise, not letting him fight.

his jaw tightened, his heart began to beat faster. His conscience tried to fight the arousal, but you could feel his dick throbbing, desperate. Your hands were now on his chest, your body moving. You rubbed, tortured him, moved to his rhythm, feeling him getting worse and worse beneath your body.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he tried to ask, sounding irritated, confused.

“you were going to leave me,” you replied, leaning in, your face close to his, your lips almost touching. You could see him swallowing hard, the realization hitting him.

“babe, i have to go soon, you know that.” You laughed in his face, shaking your head, knowing his words were useless, empty. He wasn't going to move from there until you decided to.

“too bad, but you made a promise,” you replied, leaving a peck on his lips before pulling away. You heard him moan again, trying to free himself, which made you feel annoyed.

you quickly removed your panties, your pussy red, glistening, smelling strongly of the combination of your period and your arousal. Your thighs were beginning to stain with your fluids.

“just shut up,” you ordered, watching his eyes widen. “You’re forcing me to shut you up my way,” you said, adjusting yourself, moving on the bed until your knees were on either side of his head. And you were facing away from him, because what you plan to do should be fun for both of you.

“you’re gonna eat me out, you’re gonna shut up and eat my pussy. You’re not gonna leave,” you ordered, to which he remained silent, expectant, balling his hands into fists, wanting to touch you, to speed up the process, and have you sit on his face. “Did i make myself clear, Quinn?”

“...yes,” he replied, his gaze fixed on your pussy, enjoying the smell of you, knowing that he’ll be able to feel you after a long time. When you lowered your body, he didn’t even take a second. His mouth began to eat you, running his tongue between your lips, sucking on your folds, tasting your juices, making his face a shiny, red mess.

you moaned his name, rubbing yourself, gently riding his face, then placed your hands on the bed, leaning down, face to face with his cock.

you placed small kisses on the tip, then licked from tip to base, feeling every vein, every spasm. Feeling his heat.

you used one hand to help you take him into your mouth, reaching your limit, making you gag a little. He groaned at that, moving his tongue faster, deeper.

you bobbed your head up and down, sliding his cock in and out of your mouth, enjoying the weight of it on your tongue, and the taste of his pre-cum. You know the rhythm that fascinates him, how much he loves your sucking, how intense, fast, desperate it is. He loves feeling that you want him, that you need to swallow his cock as much as you need to breathe. And he loves that just sucking his cock makes you feel drunk, stupid.

you wanna let his guard down while enjoying how well he moves, playing with your clit, taking advantage of how swollen and sensitive it is. Enjoying the taste of your blood, how different it feels, like a thicker liquid, accompanied by your juices. He even sticks his tongue inside your hole, preparing you and obsessing over your hot skin.

you both linger, trying to push the other to the limit. And god, it's obscene. You gag, swallowing his cock, letting it touch your throat and take that place, destroying your ability to speak, to whimper without sounding broken. And him? his chin is covered in your blood, like it's a crime scene, combined with his drool, causing fat reddish drops to slide down his chest, like a vampire and his prey.

you feel it so deep, so intense, so desperate that you can't help the knot that forms inside you, longing for him to swallow you, to be a good boy and swallow every drop of your cum, your blood, your juices that are only for him. And he seems to notice your state, because he presses harder on your clit. Faster, harder, until your legs spasm and you come, filling his mouth with you, and making the room smell even more.

he didn't stop, he continued sucking your folds, cleaning you, making your pussy return to its normal color, but a thousand times shinier. And you? you devoured his cock in gratitude, knowing he's trying, being a good boy for you, giving you what you need, making you feel good, even without using his fingers.

you feel him throbbing, spasming, and with one of your hands you massage his balls. You know he's about to cum, you can feel it.

and so you stop.

you fucking stopped.

you stood up, and Quinn looks offended, angry, incredibly desperate. The tip of his cock is red, swollen. You know he's about to explode. You know he wants his cum shooting down your throat, choking you, forcing you to swallow him. God, you know he loves that.

but now you're in charge, and you wanna have some fun. You want him to pay for all the times he left you alone. For staying to help his teammates when they asked him to. For being the best captain when you needed him with every fiber of your body.

you're being unfair, you know it, but you need to have this control, to let him know you can dominate him, take advantage of him, use his body. Demand things from him.

“what the fuck?” he whines, glaring at you. His hands try to free themselves, you see the edge of the bed shake. Now he's really upset about it.

you sit on his lap, this time facing him, resting your hands on his abdomen, sliding your nails down his skin until you reach his pelvis, leaving red lines like the ones that always decorate his back, accompanying the hickeys now scattered all over his chest.

“what? you were cruel to me, making me have to touch myself, thinking of you, your fingers…” you began, aligning the tip of his cock with your hole, “your beard…” you sat down, feeling him slide slowly inside you, making you swallow every inch of his dick. You whimpered, taking a moment to adjust, feeling it so deep.

Quinn is in a daze, feeling the spasm in your walls, and how you suffocate him with how tight you are.

“every day… wishing you were the one who made me cum. But i had to do it all myself.” You sighed, starting to move, rubbing yourself back and forth, listening to him grunt. His wrists red from trying so hard to get free, his chest heaving with his breathing.

you move your hips, back and forth, in circles. God, you're having fun. You moan. Your blood coating his cock. And you're getting faster and faster. You're riding him desperately, but when you start to jump? oh, that man lets out one of the most beautiful moans you've ever heard. It's deep, aching, blinded by pleasure.

you jump, your tits bounce, your thighs burn. You go at your own pace, not letting him interfere.

he's so long, and he feels so big inside you. He expands your walls like it's no problem. As if it were his home. And your body responds, recognizing him, reacting.

he can see a ring of red liquid staining his base, causing it to squirt everywhere, staining more parts of his body, leaving your mark.

sticky, obscene sounds motivate you to move faster and faster, seeking your release.

and once again you feel him throbbing, so you look up at him. His eyes are glassy, ​​his lips bitten. Panting sounds come from his mouth. He's desperate, out of control. He needs to come, so he looks up at you, silently begging.

"beg, Quinn, i wanna hear you," you moaned, barely able to control yourself. He hesitates for a moment, but knows you're in control now, so he obeys.

"´please, i won't leave, i promise i won't leave," he whimpered, his cock incredibly sensitive. "Let me come inside you, i wanna fill you with me, please." You hear him beg a little more, but it's when a single tear runs down his cheek that you decide to give in, still riding him, and untie the knot on his wrists.

with difficulty, Quinn changed position, hovering over you, starting to move inside you so fast you felt like you couldn't breathe, and you knew your pussy was going to hurt like shit in a couple of hours.

he comes before you, but he doesn't stop moving, just hiding in your neck, moaning your name. His thick, white streams of cum mix with your red juices, making your belly swell even more. And when you came? he almost came again from how your walls suffocated him.

he doesn't move from inside you. He doesn't plan on leaving. He wants to stay there forever.

he's learned his lesson.

he can't neglect his sweet girl, but he can't deny that he enjoyed this.

[pazzispizookies]

— — Guarded — —

Hey Guys! I hope you all enjoyed chapter 6! I wouldn’t freaking know because no one gives me feedback expect for my dedicated pookies. Also go check out @izzih22 new series if you haven’t! Along with @hereforuconnwbb new series!! but I would like to hear y’all’s feedback more, post a comment, send inbox or Dm with what u like/dislike abt the chapters so I know what yall want to see better! I’d appreciate it so very much pookies. Have fun reading… ;)

Pairing: Hopkins transfer Azzi x Hopkins Paige

The quiet vibration of the car engine filled the space.

Thoughts swirling in both girls heads about what had happened at the diner.

“So, are you gonna tell me where your driving? or am I just being kidnapped?” Azzi asked, glancing over at Paige.

Paige was resting on hand on the steering wheel, spread out lazily but still maneuvering the car with persision, “I figured you’d want something sweet, you have a disgusting sweet tooth Az,”

Azzi felt her heart tighten a little at Paige knowing what she wanted, then it struck her. How did she know? “How do you know I have a sweet tooth? are you really a stalker P, its getting kinda scary.” She teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Something had definitely changed. It was unspoken but still, their flirting had gone from having an underlying sense of rivalry, to now having a heat behind it. Azzi had realized the day she met Paige their relationship was going to be different. Like a cosmic pull was stringing them closer. And now, she thought that it might not have been a ‘cosmic pull’ but just pure attraction. Something that scared her in the best way.

Paige had the same idea, less intense, but she knew she wanted Azzi. She wanted her bad. But she was the reason their relationship started off rocky, but she didn’t regret it. If anything she was glad she could flirt with Azzi and blame it on her hating her. Even though that reason wasn’t the truth. She felt herself looking at Azzi, from in class, to stealing glances of her during practice, to when she was alone in bed at night and found herself on her Instagram page, admiring the small details of her from her modeling posts. It was all something she knew was apart of something larger, something was going to happen between them. She knew Azzi was different already.

Paige looked over at Azzi, the moonlight and streets casting a warm glow into her deep brown eyes, “I’m not a stalker, just observant.”

Just as Paige said that, she started to pull into a Ice cream store parking lot,

“Ice cream?” Azzi asked, trying to hide her pure child-like excitement.

Paige saw the way her eyes lit up, it tugging at her heart a little, “Yes, are you five years old by any chance?”

Azzi scoffed, clicking off her seatbelt and grabbing her phone, “is it a crime to like ice cream as a 16 year old? Last time I checked it wasn’t.”

Paige rolled her eyes, still trying to pretend she wasn’t falling for every little thing Azzi said. She had always been the type to fall quickly, more often then not getting hurt by it. But it was something about herself she couldn’t change. she feared that it would hurt her again, but there’s no stopping whats in motion.

Paige got out of the car, making sure to grab her wallet and phone.

Azzi did the same, already have started to walk towards the building.

Paige caught up with her, hands in pockets and decided to verbalize wat she had been thinking about. “So..we should probably talk about the whole ‘Ash’ thing.”

Paige opened the door for Azzi, letting her in first. To which Azzi returned a small smile, not one of her normal cocky ones toward Paige, but one from her heart.

They walked in and noticed it was pretty packed,

“Yeah we can talk…after ice cream. Also, maybe we should sit outside, it’s pretty busy in here, yknow get some quiet. If it doesn’t make you too nervous.”

Paige leaned her head back a little, narrowing her eyes on Azzi, “I wont be nervous, already have you wrapped around my finger.”

Azzi shook her head foundly, letting out an exhale, “You’ve got that all wrong Bueckers. Cmon, I want ice creammmm!”

Azzi grabbed Paiges forearm and pulled her towards the counter, speaking up to the worker immediately.

She didn’t need to look at the menu, already knowing what to order. “Hi, could I get a medium cup of Rocky road, with sprinkles and hot fudge?”

The worker nodded and looked at Paige,

Paige added in, “Uh yeah can I just get a small cup of vanilla? That’s all.”

Azzi glared at her, “Boring.”

Paige scoffed, “Not boring, just an aware athlete trying not to poison herself.”

The worker who was watching the teasing, amused, spoke up. “It’ll be 7.98, and can I just say you guys are such a cute couple. You can tap on the screen by the way.”

Azzis face felt a rush of heat at the awkward moment, but Paige not wanting to let the moment to be bad for all of them spoke, “Thanks,” While she tapped her phone to the screen to pay.

Azzi was a little taken a back by her answer, making a mental note to ask her about it later. But greatful that it shut down the conversation.

The worker smiled while she handed the ice cream cups to each of them along with spoons. “Have a good night you guys.”

Paige simply nodded at her, and Azzi replied, “You too.”

They started to walk towards the door, the silence between them deafening.

Paige open the door for Azzi once again, to which Azzi didn’t have the same reaction before, a little lost in her thoughts.

They walked in awkward silence to a bench at the back of the building, it was surrounded by green grass and overlooking a quiet park in the still of the night. Only illuminated by a street light and the moon, the warm night air sweeping through.

Azzi sat down on the same side as Paige, positioned foward looking out at the park.

But as it hit Azzi, her brain simply fried from everything, she blurted out, “ugh, why do you always smell like that.”

Paige startled out of her thoughts grew a little concerned at the sudden sentence. “Uh…like what?”

Azzi became aware of what it sounded like she was implying, quickly corrected herself. “No, not like that yknow. like every time we have class or after running miles at practice you still smell really good, it’s annoying.”

Paige felt herself heat up at the silly compliment, “You obsessed with me, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her ice cream while looking at the park across the field from them. Paige looked over at her profile, noting the soft curves in her nose and the way her eyelashes caught the moonlight.

“I’m not obsessed with you, just… observant as well.”

Paige shook her head, the awkwardness from emailer seemingly dissipating into the night air.

“So, Ash. Whats our plan for that?” Paige redirected.

Azzi crossed her legs and met Paiges eyes, which were strickingy blue still. “You mean my plan to get us out of the issue you created? Haven’t thought much about it yet.”

Paige sighed, taking a bite of her ice cream and thinking.

Azzi spoke first, also running it through her mind, “well, I mean, I guess I’ll text her tonight. Maybe like a few of her highlights, see if she leads.”

Paige nodded, “Yeah, she’ll lead. She always does.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat, but then she cleared her throat and met Paiges gaze again. “How come you didn’t correct the worker in here when she called us a couple.”

The truth was, Paige didn’t hate hearing someone mistake them for a couple. “I just didn’t want it to be awkward, correcting her would just make us all feel a little weird.”

Azzi hummed, taking in what she said, even though not believing it to an extent.

Then just in that moment of silence, her phone buzzed.

Paige grabbed Azzis phone hearing the buzz, like she had the right too.

“Hey!” Azzi protested at the blonde

Paige looked at her phone seeing a notification.

Instagram:

Ash: hey pretty, you invite your team yet? just trying to get a head count lol.

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige’s face, it contorting into one of confusion and some relief.

“What is it?” She asked,

Paige turned the phone around to reveal the message, which she quickly scanned.

“Maybe you were right. That’s pretty friendly.” Paige said, fully handing the phone to her. But something in her tone was off….almost upset.

“You good?” Azzi asked having noticed the underlying tone,

Paiges jaw clenched slightly, avoiding eye contact with her, “yeah I’m good. You should respond.”

Azzi took a second to study Paige, wonder what she was thinking before opening the phone.

She went to instagram, reading it through again. Then turned back to Paige, “sooo..what do I say?”

Paige wanted her to say nothing, she was almost blinded by the thought of Azzi flirting with her Ex because of her stupidity. But she had to push those feelings down, knowing that this was the only way to get Ash to not leak anything.

“Well..you flirt.” Paige responded. Also looking at the phone

Azzi let out a huff, “I know that big head, but I mean, like how?”

Paige looked up, “how? You don’t know how to flirt?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, but then looked away quickly. Because truthfully, she didn’t. Paige was the only one she had ever really flirted with, and that was only because it was a challenge….well at least at first.

“I don’t go around flirting with everyone, unlike you.” She replied,

Paige rolled her eyes, focusing back on her ice cream in hand, taking a slow bite, lingering the plastic spoon in her mouth. “I don’t flirt with everyone, Azzi.” She said, her voice nearing a dangerous level of honesty.

Those words kicked her back into focus, knowing they had a double meaning, and knowing the meaning behind it wasn’t one to explore tonight. “Well, looks like it to me. Yknow you do that thing.” Azzi said, gesturing towards Paige’s face.

Paige looked over amused, dropping her voice to a smooth teasing one. “What thing? Look pretty?”

Azzi scoffed at her, the only worse about Paige being pretty is that she knew it. “Not that.”

“So you admit I’m pretty?” Paige quickly replied, leaning in.

“I never said that”

“But you never denied it.”

Azzi took the challenge,

She leaned in even closer to Paige, inches away, and whispered, “yeah, you’re pretty. Happy?”

Paige felt heat pool at the words, mixed with the limited space between them, she’d do anything to close the gap.

“That. Right there,”

Azzi looked at her confused, “huh?”

Paige leaned back, creating some much needed space, ”that was flirting, even if it wasn’t as good as mine, you do know what to do, Princess.” She said as she took another bite of ice cream.

“Okay 1. Your not much better at flirting them me. 2. I have to do this over text, to a stranger.” Azzi answered, glancing back down at her open phone,

“Psh, we both know I can flirt better, that’s okay to admit. And yknow just like, use what you have to your advantage.”

“What I have? What do you mean?” Azzi said looking into her blue eyes,

Paige let her gaze drift off again, thinking about if she was gonna be honest. But with a breath, she decided it was easier to just suck it up and say it. “Post yourself. A good photo of yourself. She’ll reply to it. I’ll bet on that,”

Azzi looked at her, confused because she thinks Paige may have just given her a compliment, a complicated one nevertheless. “Okay, I will. Is my face just that alluring? She’ll come running at the sight of it.”

“Anyone with a brain would come running to you if they had the chance,” Paige said, leaning in.

Azzi breath caught for a split second, caught off guard by Paige’s words.

Paige caught the reaction. A grin spreading across her face. “See? I’m better at flirting.”

Azzi shoved her. Which drew a dramatic groan from Paige.

“Shut up, I’ll post something tonight. Even if I look like a desperate slut because of it.”

Paige nodded, still slightly smiling. “Lookin foward to it.”

A comfortable silence feel over them for a minute, neither one complaining about it, because there was just something nice about being in each others presence.

“You done?” Azzi asked, looking at Paige’s and her own empty cups.

“Yea,” she said standing up, offering out a hand for Azzi.

Her heart warmed at the small gesture, it just seemed to be something Paige did without thinking, showing that she wasn’t all that bad.

Azzi grabbed her hand, lingering on it for a second before pulling away.

Paige felt the touch stretch, but really she didn’t want it to end. It seemed like their hands fit perfectly together.

“You’re driving.”

Paige caught the keys Azzi just threw at her with a groan,

*****

They walked back to the car,

as both of them sat down in their chairs, Azzi speaks up. “Yknow, we don’t really have anything tomorrow until practice.”

“Yeah…and?” Paige asked.

Azzi hesitated for a second, “my parents and bothers aren’t home, maybe you wanna come over? If you don’t that’s totally fine too.”

Paige was a little shocked at the invitation, especially since she didn’t know if Azzi felt the same pull to be around her, “Yeah, sure -um yeah.” Paige replied, smile tugging at her mouth.

“Cool,” Azzi replied as nonchalant as she could (which wasn’t very much)

Paige started to drive in the direction of Azzis house, silently freaking out, because hanging out alone with her in an empty house was a little more than she could handle.

After 6 mintues of music filled silence between them, Paige pulled into her driveway.

Azzi got out of the car, waiting for Paige to follow,

They made their way up the stairs and she started fumbling with her key at the door before pausing for a moment and looking at Paige, “Oh - but the way. I have a kid.”

“A what?” Paige said shocked.

Azzi chuckled. “Yeah, she’s only a year old. But don’t be too loud, I think she’s asleep.”

“You have a kid? Since when?” Paige asked, racking her mind.

Azzi played into it more, “yeah, she’s the love of my life. We tried to keep it hidden from the public as much as we could.”

“uhh—Okay?” Paige replied, completely baffled at this new information.

Azzi pushed the door open, making her way inside as Paige followed suit.

“Wait right here, I’ll go get her.” Azzi said looking back, trying to hide her lying.

Paige threw her hands up, with a shrug. “Okay I guess?”

Azzi wandered off into the house, opening her bedroom door to find Stewie, her dog and baby. Asleep on her bed.

“Hey stew, I have someone to meet.” She said carefully picking up the tired dog.

stewie started wagging her tail at the sound of Azzi voice, gleefully letting herself be picked up.

Azzi tried to stay as quiet as she could while walking back to Paige, making her way to the living room.

Paige stood there on her phone, racking socials for information on Azzi apparent pregnancy.

She didn’t even hear Azzi creep up until she spoke, “Paige this is Stewie, my baby. and Stewie this is Paige.”

Stewie started barking in Azzis arms at the sight of the blonde.

“Really?”

“What?” Azzi said placing Stewie down, “She’s my baby.”

“You so annoying Az,” Paige said, putting her phone away, slightly relieved to see Azzi didn’t have a whole child.

She bent down to pet Stewie who was already at her legs, “Hey there Stewie, You have a stupid mom. Sorry about that.”

Azzi crossed her arms and scoffed, taking offense“She does not!”

Paige stood back up and chucked, “Sureeeee”

Azzi rolled her eyes and started walking towards her room, motioning for Paige to follow.

Once they entered her room Azzi plopped down on her bed, As for Paige, she stood awkwardly in the door way.

“Uhhh, what’re you doing?”

Paige shrugged, “standing.”

“Well stop it, it’s weird, sit down.” She said patting a spot next to her on the bed.

Paige pushed off the wall and sat down next to Azzi on her pink bed.

she looked around the room, it was everything Azzi times 100.

Light pink walls, books stacked with vines hanging off of it, Icecream stickers on her laptop with a neatly organized desk. Even to her pink queen sized bed, having being perfectly made and adorned with Unicorn pillows, only the soft glow from fairly lights illuminating the space.

“Wow, your rooms so ‘5 year old girl’ meets ‘clean freak’ “

Azzi scoffed and leaned back on her pillows, “Shut up, it’s probably better then yours.”

Paige looked down at her, slightly taken back by her beauty. Her curls sprawled out over the light pink pillow, she relaxed completely from being in a comfortable area. “It’s not. Mines much more ‘13 year old boy with a Lebron James obsession’ “

“I’d bet.” Azzi responded, looking into Paiges eyes, only now aware of the fact Paige was on her bed. In her house. Looking this good.

“Uh so anyways, you dated Ash, so you know what she likes right?”

Paige nodded, “to an extent”

“so I need you to help me with the post, the one to lure her in.”

Paige shook her head “I told you, I don’t know how to do girl things.”

Azzi sighed then threw a pillow at her, causing her to yelp.

“Well you better learn.”

“Abuse, Azzi. Abuse.” Paige said pretending to be hurt

Azzi stuck her tounge out at her, “Yeah, yeah. Now lay down, your being oddly uncomfortable, I don’t bite.” She said now getting up and moving for her closet.

Paige laid down, feeling a lot less uncomfortable by her words, sighing at the feeling of being relaxed after a long day. “Where’re you going?”

Azzi had disappeared into her closet for a moment, returning holding a few shirts. “Gettting options.”

“Options for what?” Paige asked, fully sprawled out on Azzi bed.

“For my shirt for the photos stupid, I can’t take them in this.”

“You could. You still look good to me.” Paige replied, sweeping her gaze over Azzi’s body

Azzi rolled her eyes even thought the compliment and attention felt nice. “Hush, Now help me pick.” She said thorwing three shirts at Paige.

Page picked the rudely thrown clothes up, the first one being a white cop top, nothing special. “No,”

The second one being a green top, half off the shoulder, “No.”

and the third being a tight black top, the v neck dangerously low with long sleeves. “this.” She said throwing the shirt back at Azzi.

“Really?” She asked, shocked by the choice.

Paige nodded, “Mhm, most slut like, she likes that.”

“Ew, but okay.” Azzi replied, moving towards the closet, shirt in hand.

She took a second to change, having to switch from a sports bra to a normal one, then came out of her closet to show Paige.

“Good?”

“Hot.” Paige replied simply, starring straight at Azzi cleavage.

“pervert.” Azzi said making her way to her desk.

She threw her speaker to the bed, “Play something, its too quiet I can hear you starring at me”

Paige grabbed the speaker, “Okay, no complaining though.”

Azzi nodded.

Paige unlocked her phone, knowing exactly what to play. She went to Bluetooth and connected the speaker, and stared playing “Crybaby” by Sza softly.

The sounds filled the air as Azzi applied some Mascara and highlighter, curling her eyelashes along with it.

after 5 mintues Paige groaned, “what are you doinggggg, I’m bored.”

Azzi didn’t even turn around, not entertaining Paige. “Go on your phone, stupid.”

Paige did just that, looking at her feed for about 2 seconds before turning a pillow into a weapon, launching it at Azzi.

Azzi scoffed and turned around, “what did you just do.”

Paige didn’t respond, instead grabbing another pillow and throwing it at her “Nothin”

Azzi practiacally launched herself out of her chair, immediately grabbing a pillow and smacking Paige.

Paige did the same, grabbing a pillow and smacking her dead in the chest to which Azzi fought back hard, grabbing another and smacking her face,

“Oh your dead” Paige said sitting up and grabbing Azzis waist to pull her foward,

Azzi felt the touch on her, but then felt another blow straight to her face, she stumbled onto her bed, reaching over to hit Paige.

But the way she ended up on Paige, was a little….different than she’d hoped, realizing after a few more hits she was fully straddling Paige.

Paige also stopped fighting feeling the weight of Azzi on top of her.

a silence feel over the room.

Both of them just looking at each other.

Azzi looked more gorgeous then Paige had ever seen, the soft lighting, the flattering color from her shirt, her hair slightly tussled and sprawled out on her shoulders, but her eyes were the best thing. Because they were staring intensely at her.

“Um. Well this is awkward.” Azzi said, stating to get up from her spot.

Paige found herself moving instinctively, wanting Azzi to stay exactly where she was.

Her hand found her waist, firmly holding her down. “Don’t move.”

“What?” Azzi asked, even though she needed to move because an unwelcomed throbbing began in her.

“Don’t move.” Paige repeated now leaning over to grab her phone.

“What’re you doing Paige?” Azzi asked, completely not okay with the amount of turned on she was right now.

Paige felt the same, even if she didn’t know Azzi was relating. But as she turned back to her, phone in hand and one still firmly on her waist. She spoke “This is perfect for the photo, just saying.”

Azzi glanced at her, the realized she was probably right. The light was hitting her softly and she was in a pretty questionable position, one that Ash would surely comment on.

“Uh okay.” She responded.

Paige kept a hand on her waist, pretending like it was the most natural thing in the world, which to some extent, it felt like it was.

She unlocked her phone and got on the camera app, pointing the phone up at Azzi.

On the screen she looked even better, the angle was working for her and her brown eyes seemed to glow brighter than the moon. She looked stunning. Unreal.

“What do I do? Just smile?” Azzi asked, feeling a little awkward.

“You’re literally a model bro, how do you not know how to pose.” Paige replied.

“Because most of the time i’m not straddling someone’s lap.” Azzi said, reminding Paige of the position.

Paige thought for a moment about what she could do, then she dug her fingers deeper into Azzis hips. Earning a slew of laughter to come from her.

“Paige! Stop!!” Azzi said completely losing it while being tickled.

Paige smiled up at her, taking a bunch of pictures of Azzi laughing on top of her, “I’ll stop in a second, pretty girl”

Azzi looked down at her, the nickname sending a shock through her,

Paige glanced up, the name just slipping from her mouth before she could stop it.

“What did you call me?” Azzi asked, her focus now only on Paige.

Paige couldn’t respond, her finger still holding down on the phone taking pictures. What had she just done. It’s like her brain forgot that she wasn’t supposed to feel anything towards Azzi. Sweet, beautiful Azzi. Who was staring down waiting for a response.

“Sorry….Got caught up,” Paige mumbled out. Avoiding eye contact at all costs with her face burning.

Azzi looked down at the blonde, normally the face of confidence. Who was now flustered under her, clearly embarrassed. But the thing was, Azzi would die to hear her say it again, her heart was nearing bursting.

She grabbed Paiges jaw gently, guiding it to look at her, watching the way her breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t mind. It’s okay,” Azzi said smoothly, reassuring. Because that was the truth. She didn’t mind.

Paiges face only got more red, quickly realizing she wasn’t gonna be able to control her feelings much longer she redirected the heated moment. “Uh—I think I got the photos,”

“Oh yeah, right.” Azzi said getting off her lap, noticing the shift in the air going back to where it was before.

As she laid down next to Paige it got more apparent that she had some….issues happening. Being clearly turned on from her earlier position.

Ignoring this she gabbed the phone, “lets see,”

She opened up the photos app, seeing nearly 100 photos of her. “Paige! Did you just hold down on the button? Now we have to go through all 14 billion of them.”

Paige shrugged, feeling way too comfortable next to Azzi in bed. “I just held it, thought that’s what I supposed to do! I’m no photographer.”

Azzi shoved her shoulder, touch lingering for a second to long and clicked on the first photo.

She looked unreal. The warm glow of the soft yellow-white fairy lights reflecting in her eyes, the dark room, the black shirt a contrast on her paler skin from the fall months, her hair looser from being tussled. Even to her face, the smile whole and bright, all real, thanks to Paige. And the best thing about the photo is that you can see the pale hand on her waist, clear as day. Along with the outline of her sitting on a lap, not to much, but just enough.

“Wow” Paige said, a little breathless at the captured photo.

“Is that one good?” Azzi asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige nodded her head, still a little speechless, “yeah, um- yea.”

Azzi took the phone from the middle of them and opened up instagram.

She selected the photo and put a soft filter over it, it only improving the photo.

She captioned it simply, “Guess who?” And hit post.

She threw her phone down. Turning over and looking at Paige, “now we wait.”

*****

[musedeluce]

Money "Troubles" (Sylus x Reader)

A/N: Happy Birthday Sylus! (This has been an Idea of mine for a while lol I just so happened to write it now) I've seen other, lovely fics where Sylus spends money on MC and wants them to spend his money on themselves. But personally the thought of spending someone else's money is so distasteful to me, I really hate the thought of it. My idea of Luxury and Decadence is the same as MC in this fic, so I wondered how the LI's would deal with that. (l do plan to do the others!) Anyway - Some Musings about money, a pragmatic MC who’s definitions of Luxury differ from Sylus’s and how he deals with that. This is more like small vignettes tied together and not a full fic, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“5 Million, otherwise they’ll think I’m broke.” Sylus’s deep voice sounded in your ear, and you couldn’t help but snort under your breath.

“Or they’ll think you’re stupid, for paying way more than it’s worth.” You whispered, knowing only he could hear it. But since it was his decision and his money, you bought the protocore for 5 million, ignoring the pit in your stomach at the thought of spending that much of someone else’s money. Little did you know, that small exchange would initiate a domino of events, a single thread in the tapestry of your relationship with Sylus.

・・・

Sylus sighed, looking down at his phone, the notification from his bank taunting him. Earlier, he had given you his card, insisting you go out and buy clothes for an upcoming event in the N109 Zone - Black market gala, information hub, the usual for his line of work. You would be accompanying him of course, as your goals aligned. He made sure of that. Apparently, the implication that there was no limit to what you could spend was lost on you. In fact, he wanted you to get whatever expensive designer clothes and accessories your heart desired. Which is why the notification that you spent 187 dollars at a thrift store bothered him so. When you arrived for the mission prep at his place, he took the opportunity to tease you.

“187 dollars? Who knew you had such expensive tastes, Kitten.” It backfired for him, though, as you winced.

“I’m sorry, I tried to keep the cost as low as possible. I can pay you back!” Sylus internally facepalmed. There was no way he was going to have you pay back that paltry amount, especially when it had been such a battle to get you to use his card for this in the first place. He only succeeded when he framed it as work expenses, as if he had hired you, and listed out all the practical reasons for you to use his card, such as making sure your purchase history couldn’t be linked to activity in the N109 zone. (Which was why you mostly used cash when you where there.)

He had to admit though, that your money sense was impressive. The outfit you had managed to put together from the thrift store was absolutely stunning. Everyone around you would be intimidated and impressed by you, as they should be. It probably would have cost at least 2,000 dollars, designer label and brand new. He supposed the cost didn’t really matter as long as you were happy, but he ached to see you in the lap of luxury, as he thought you deserved. As he looked at you though, he was love-struck. Sylus felt incredibly lucky to be at your side, and happy that you wanted him there.

・・・

Concerned, you look at Sylus, who’s expression is displeased, as if he had just swallowed a lemon. Raising an eyebrow you asked him - “Are you alright?”

“Sweetie, you live on how much a month?” He was appalled, and you didn’t help the situation by misunderstanding the reason for his dismay.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s really low, all things considered. With my hunter’s salary it’s easily doable and I have enough to put in savings, an emergency fund and for fun afterwards.” Your smile is radiant as you continue. “I’m grateful to be in a comfortable position.” A smile grows across Sylus’s face in response, because he really does admire you and is proud of the work you do. He just thinks you deserve any luxury you could ever want.

“Of course you have everything handled. I’d expect nothing less of you, kitten.”

・・・

The crux of the matter was, of course, that you and Sylus had very different ideas of luxury and decadence. To you, things like buying the more expensive foods while grocery shopping, splurging on small treats, and sometimes going out were all luxuries to you. But for him, things like a private chef, the newest model motorcycles, designer clothes, state of the art technology, and so on were all luxuries that he wanted to share with you.

His least favorite words to hear from your mouth are “I don’t need it.” You say it almost all the time when he tries to spend his money on you. It’s not a lie though, you genuinely are refusing his attempts to buy you some of these things because you truly do not need or want them. But sometimes, you graciously accept them. He loved it when you did. It made him feel wanted and accepted, as well as triumphant because he felt that you were receiving what you deserved.

・・・

The key was to figure out the common denominators when you accepted his gifts, which was easy enough as Sylus was a smart man, and one who paid particular attention to you. It was a fun game he played with himself, teasing you in the process.

You almost never turned down gifts, as long as you didn’t see him buy them, and as long as you didn’t feel like it was excessive. A single expensive bottle of a perfume you loved? A single set of jewelry? Small treats? Expensive dinners and outings he invited you to? All of those you’d let him pay, and accept. Buying the company that makes the perfume or all the jewelry he thought would suit you? Not accepted.

Every time he tried to get you to use his card it was a battle. You’d almost always refuse, only acquiescing if he framed it as necessary for work or as something you could do in order to help him.

You were loath to spend more for things that you thought they were worth. A designer name meant nothing to you. Multiple versions of something when you only needed one? Out of the question.

It seemed to come down to a balance, anything he provided seemed to be fine as long as it wasn’t something that made you feel obligated, or manipulated, something you thought he might use against you. (Not that he would, but you, your memories gone, didn’t know that.) The two of you were still learning about each other, it just so happened that he knew more right now.

・・・

It was simple - all he had to do was treat you as you deserved, like his most treasured connection, his partner, equal in all things and deserving only the best. He’d give you gifts that you would accept, things you found useful, things you wanted, never making you feel trapped. It was all up to you. Eventually you’d get used to it, and eventually he’d make sure you rose your standards, and wouldn’t question when he treated you to only the best. You’d come to expect it, as you should, he’d make sure of that. Sylus had resolved to be with you, his partner, his equal and he would always treat you like the treasured person you were to him, who deserved only the best that he could offer, happy to spend his days with you, and that would never change.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[writerslittlelibrary]

Sharing a safehouse

masterlist

summary: after a mission gone wrong, you and Natasha are forced to lay low in a small safehouse somewhere in the countryside of England. It’s small, uncomfortable, and you’ve never been able to really connect with Natasha during your time on the team. what happens when you and Natasha are basically forced to connect?

pairing: Natasha x teen reader

warnings: none

genre: fluff

words: 1645

a/n: I would like a standing applause for the fact that I am posting another fic in the span of a month. it has happened. the apocalypse has struck 

also, have I written this trope before? yes, yes I have. will I be writing this trope again? yes, yes I will

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The silence is unbearable. It’s not like you were against the quiet, on the contrary. You liked  a calm, quiet environment to work and relax. No, it was the quiet with Natasha that you couldn’t bear. 

You and Natasha never were the best team, mainly because it seemed Natasha just didn’t want anything to do with you. 

You didn’t blame her, truly, you didn’t. You weren’t afraid to admit you were a pretty odd kid. You liked stuffed animals, cartoons, and sometimes, when you were certain no one was watching, you’d open your drawer and take out your dolls. 

It wasn’t like you got to have any fun things when you were a child, and something as simple as a doll would have been harder to acquire than literal gold. 

You weren’t shy about admitting you had a fucked up childhood, and you weren’t shy to be watching Winx Club in the living room of the Avengers compound. It was funny, really, how at first Sam made fun of you, yet slowly started to get more and more invested to the point he would ask you when you were going to start the next episode. 

He was a total Winx Club fan now. 

The rest of the team seemed to pretty much ignore your childish side. Not in a rude manner, but rather in an uninterested manner. They didn’t think you were weird, and you liked it that way. 

Natasha, however, wasn’t at all holding back when she saw you watching a cartoon or coloring at the table.

It wasn’t like she’d get angry, but she would walk away, or give you a look like you were vermin. 

You never quite understood where her disdain for you came from. She was your favourite superhero, yet she treated you like dirt under her shoe. She wasn’t gentle when making her comments, either. 

Sometimes, when you were drawing, she’d make a comment about how you were far too old for such things, and while you were watching a cartoon she’d scoff like you were insane. 

It was a literal cartoon, not the end of the world. 

You had gotten pretty good at ignoring her antics over the past year, but you couldn’t deny that they still stung. Why did she despise you breathing so much?

At the moment, Natasha was caught up in writing her mission report while you were curled up on the couch, which doubled as the bench for the table and the bed you would be sleeping in. 

Tony was fucking loaded. Why the hell was this safehouse a literal trailer?

You were reading Rainbow Magic; Ruby, the Red Fairy. Occasionally, you’d glance up from your book, and you’d catch a glimpse of Natasha’s disapproving stare before she’d continue working. 

Okay, fine, maybe bringing the Rainbow Magic series wasn’t the most strategic plan with such a fairytale hater, but who could blame you? Those fairy books were actually very enjoyable. 

You ignored Natasha’s judgement, finishing your book before you got up, walking to the small cupboard and pulling open the doors.

Expecting for some form of entertainment in this trailer was clearly too much to ask. 

The cupboard didn’t hold much, safe for a few spiders and a bucket of cleaning supplies that looked to be at least two-hundred years past their expiration date. 

And then, at the far top shelf, you could see a chessboard peeking out amongst the shelves.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to reach it, but you got it. 

By now, Natasha had finished her mission report and was studying your every move. Of course, you caught up to her staring almost immediately, and you turned to face her while holding up the chess board. 

“Do you play?” 

Natasha frowned, before sighing and giving you a singular nod. Well, more excitement was clearly too much to ask. 

Natasha leaned forward, clearing the table of her papers and reaching for your book. She half expected her to just throw it on top of your bag in the corner, and you were more than surprised when she picked it up gently and handled it with much more care than you thought her to be capable of. 

When the table was cleared, you put the chess board down, handing Natasha the box that the white pieces were stuffed in. 

“I’m always black,” Natasha said while frowning at the colour of the pieces in the box. 

“Sure.” You passed the box with the black pieces to Natasha while arranging the white pieces on your own playing field. 

Once all the pieces were put in place, Natasha made the first move, to which you immediately responded by putting her piece back in its place. 

“White starts,” you mention as you make your own move.

Natasha huffs but doesn’t protest, instead moving her own pieces to defend against your attack. 

The game continued far into the night, and after playing for nearly three hours, you finally made your last move, trapping Natasha in a check-mate. 

“I let you do that,” Natasha says before rearranging her own pieces. 

“Sure you did,” you respond before placing your own pieces back on the board. 

“Don’t you have to go to bed? It’s far past your bedtime,” Natasha asks, glancing at the clock on the whole. 

“I don’t have a bedtime,” you remark, making your move with the chess piece. 

“You act like a child, yet you don’t go to bed on time?” 

To your surprise, you didn’t hear any judgement in Natasha’s tone. Just pure confusion. A genuine question not meant to insult you. You didn’t expect that. 

You look up at her, frowning before shrugging. 

“Can’t sleep. Nightmares,” you say, counteracting Natasha’s move by blocking her piece. “And even if I wanted to, we’re sitting on my bed.”

As if the evening wasn’t surprising enough, Natasha lets out a huff of amusement. 

“We can share the big bed. It’ll help with the nightmares,” she suggests. 

“Why?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the game in the hopes of preventing awkward eye contact. 

Natasha shrugs. “I dunno know. Another presence helps with preventing nightmares or something. There’s a study on it.”

“No, I mean why are you so nice? Why offer to share your bed with me when you normally can’t even stand to share the same room?”

At that, Natasha looks up, a hint of guilt mixed into her usual calm facial expression. 

“It’s not personal,” she says, moving her chess piece. 

“Then what is it? You’ve barely shared one conversation with me since I joined a year ago.”

“You’re a child,” Natasha suddenly says after a moment of silence. There’s venom in her voice, yet you can feel it isn’t directed at you. 

“You should be able to play with your dolls without having to feel the need to hide, and you should be able to go to school and make friends and stupid decisions. You shouldn’t live in a compound with superheroes and fight super villains weekly. You are a child, and you should be able to be one.” 

You fall silent for a moment, shocked at her revelation of knowing about your dolls, and shocked at the amount of emotion hidden under her confession. 

“You don’t hate me?”

Natasha’s head shoots up, tears glistening in her eyes. 

“Hate you? What ever gave you the impression that I hate you?”

You shook your head. “You avoid me, you scoff wherever I’m drawing or watching something in the common room. It feels like you judge me, daily.”

At that, Natasha’s facial expression softens, and her expression turns glum.

“I never meant for you to feel like you were in the wrong, and I am so sorry for that. I wasn’t judging you, I was judging the situation you’re in.” Natasha inhaled a sharp breath, turning back to the chess board and making another move. 

“Fury gave you a choice. Either prison, or joining the Avengers. You never even did anything wrong. You were just a child, graced with powers that no one understood and everyone feared. You didn’t deserve prison, and you didn’t deserve the threat of prison. You deserved a family.”

You sighed. 

“And in a way, I got a family. The Avengers are nice-”

“They’re not your family, they’re your team. There’s a difference. Sure, they care about you, but if they were your family, they’d want you to live a life, rather than become a superhero.”

Natasha fell silent, and at her words, so did you. 

Was she right? If the Avengers were your family, would they want you to live a normal, domestic life somewhere else, rather than the superhero life you were living right now?

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, it’s not like I hate my life. Just the paperwork,” you remark, moving your queen to once again trap Natasha in a check-mate. 

“I want to work something out, if you’ll let me,” Natasha then said, pouting when you took her king. 

“Like what?” you ask.

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Something that’ll put you off missions, at least until you’re twenty-one or something. Maybe older. Something legal. I mean, you’re not even allowed to drink in the United States. Why the hell are you allowed, or better said, forced, to risk your life daily?”

At that, you snort.

“You make a good point.” 

“We’ll figure something out, I promise,” Natasha states, helping you clear the chessboard and standing up from the bench. 

“Now, it is time for bed. Tomorrow we’ll see if there’s a bakery or something in this god forsaken place.”

You snicker, taking Natasha’s hand and allowing her to lead you. Maybe she doesn’t hate you as much as you thought she did. 

Bonus a/n: rainbow magic; Ruby the Red Fairy is the first ever book I read in English.

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @papimapileon @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @l1kepeps1cvla @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

there is actually some sort of social phenomenon happening that can explain this and as a polyamorous person who has been polyamorous for like 10 years now i can say it’s kindaaa poisoning the watering hole for our community.

so basically, polyamorous people are still very much NOT accepted, but the stigma around open relationships in general is JUST starting to crack open. and through those cracks, first there was a trickle, which is now a steady stream, still growing towards a flood, of (usually, but not always, straight) people in terrible monogamous relationships who think that opening the relationship will fix it. spoiler alert: that’s not how any of this works, and when a monogamous relationship gets opened, that’s usually that relationship’s death rattle.

note: open relationships have to start out open within the first, oh, idk like 6 months at most, or they’re doomed. that’s not necessarily a hard line, but it might be a little too generous, tbh—open relationships take a LOT of work and a lot of people are, understandably, not up for that. this lifestyle isn’t for everyone, and that’s fine! the problem arises when people think they can just adapt to it. probably the only way a relationship that was monogamous would survive opening up after being established as a long-term relationship instead of before, is if both partners realise they’re polyamorous around the same time, and they’ve already worked on all their issues to the point that their relationship has few to no issues.

obviously, with that in mind, it’s clear that the couples that resemble the one described by OP won’t last. but that doesn’t stop them from trying it out, since they’ve started learning that open relationships exist, and specifically, a lot of toxic cishet men are extra eager to try ethical non-monogamy because, to them, this means they can more or less cheat* on their gf/wife without giving her a reason to leave them.

so they ask her to open the relationship, she says ok as long as she gets to have her share of fun too (if she has enough self-respect to even think of that), and he says that’s fine thinking they’ll both get about an equal amount of action, because he’s thinking of how dating was for him when he was single. but what he doesn’t plan for is that polyamorous people mostly are very feminist and polyamorous women in particular don’t want a misogynist cishet man, and monogamous women don’t want to be with a man in an open relationship, so he gets no extramarital** pussy, while his partner is busy pulling hot people like it’s her natural born talent and barely has energy left to have sex with him.

and this is why opening a relationship that was monogamous is a death rattle for the relationship 99% of the time: once the partner who asked to open the relationship realises that polyamorous dating is nothing like monogamous single person dating, and they have to put in the work to be someone people want to date (because single monogamous people are lonely and have lower standards because of that loneliness, but they still mostly don’t want to be involved in polyamory, and available polyamorous people mostly already have at least one partner, so they have higher standards than single people, since they aren’t lonely) then they want to close the relationship again, and their partner doesn’t want to because they’ve gotten a taste of the beautiful freedom of polyamory, or just a taste of how nicely they can be treated by people other than their current primary partner. this usually turns into a fight that snowballs with all their other problems that existed before they opened the relationship and weren’t fixed bc instead of doing the work to fix those problems they decided to just see other people while staying together… and they break up.

this problem has existed in the past, and that’s why being a unicorn is so lonely and dehumanising, and has been since basically forever, or at least as long as the concept has existed.. but it’s getting worse now that so many monogamous people are deciding to experiment with polyamory by diving right in, rather than taking the time to learn about the community and ethics, the way i did when i first learned that i was polyamorous, in which im sure im not alone.

but the dating pool for polyamorous people, as i said, is getting more and more poisoned with monogamous people in relationships that are like.. well, i guess like delayed landmines—it may not blow the very second a polyamorous person sets foot there, but once someone else does get involved in the relationship, it’s only a matter of time before it does explode. it used to be that unicorn hunters were mostly swingers, with some actual polyamorous people looking for a third, and a very small minority of the couples described here.

for the most part, to my understanding (since i was too young to be a unicorn before this trend in monogamy started ramping up, i have no direct experience but this is what i’ve heard): the dehumanising and lonely part of being a unicorn was looking for a couple that wanted an actual relationship with you, and only getting couples that wanted to use you for sex, and weren’t really very clear about it because its hard to find single unicorns who actually want that. now, more of these couples actually want a relationship, or at least one half of them wants that, but they don’t, like, get how what they’re doing is wrong. they drag polyamorous people into relationships that are dying and turn these beautiful human beings who have autonomy into just another Thing for them to fight about. it’s disgusting behavior and not ethical at all, but they consider it ‘ethical’ non-monogamy since it’s not cheating.

*i’ve said before that ethical non-monogamy isn’t cheating, but i’m framing it this way because a lot, dare i say most or even all of these couples don’t reckon with amatonormativity or learn anything meaningful about polyamory that would challenge their conception that cheating = having sexual or romantic relations with more than one person, and redefine it such that they understand cheating = lying and deceiving one or more of your partners and/or having sexual or romantic relations with someone other than your existing partner(s) without their knowledge AND consent. since they don’t get that, they see it as getting away with cheating, even if only subconsciously.

**technically ‘extramarital’ isn’t exactly the right word since not all of these couples are married, but you get what i mean

I don't know why this keeps happening but I keep meeting toxic heterosexual couples who experiment with polyamory and are heavily into funko pops, board games, Disney princesses and Burlesque stripping and the man is always a withdrawn bearded dude and the woman is always a passive aggressive control freak with an Etsy shop that sells lawn gnomes styled after Dr Who characters and they don't really even seem to like each other but they're always exactly the same. this has happened four times

[sukumna]

@DominantSirRyo has sent you a message . . .

triggers. ryomen sukuna x fem!reader. cnc. bdsm. kidnapping. asphyxiation. drowning. rough sex. degradation. fear play. d/s dynamics. MDNI

word count. 2.7k

authors note. i never thought i would finish this fic yall,,its been sitting in my docs collecting dust. i lowkey hate it but whateves. NOT PROOFREAD!

“See, your account’s been verified. Now, just select the kinks you’re interested in, and within a few weeks, someone will match with you. If no one’s available, the app will notify you.” Your friend hands you back your phone, where the list of kinks is laid out.

“And what if I match with some creep? This whole thing feels sketchy.”

“No, you’ll only meet professionals. The app was created by a BDSM club owner, and he makes sure the professionals match up with people who don’t know what they’re doing,” your friend says with a roll of her eyes. “So, it’s not like you’re meeting just some random guy who likes choking women. These are people who are well-versed in kink.”

“I don’t know…” you mumble hesitantly.

“Why do you think this app hasn’t blown up on social media or any kink sites? It’s invite-only. My sister’s boyfriend helps run it, so he slipped me the invite code. Trust me, you won’t get murdered, and you don’t even have to meet up if you don’t want to. You were the one who told me none of your past doms did it for you.”

She raises an eyebrow. She’s got a point. You can rarely get off during safe sex anymore. You’ve only ever reached climax while reading taboo smut or on the rare occasions you’ve had kinky encounters.

“I just want you to be satisfied. You’ve been kind of a bitch without sex.”

“Oh, wow!” You feign offense, clutching your chest.

“Hey,” she laughs. “I’m just being honest! Try it out! Let me know when you match with someone.”

“If I do it.”

“When you do it!” she insists.

—

You scroll through the app, clicking the kinks you’re open to.

Piss kink – No | depends | if forced | yes

Necrophilia – No | depends | if forced | yes

You click ‘No’ for both and scroll further down the list. Yes, you’re doing this. You’re tired of being sexually frustrated. Like your friend said, you’re a bitch when you’re not getting satisfied.

Primal Kink – Yes, please

CNC – Yes…

Unprotected Sex – No, not with a stranger

Kidnapping – Yes, no explanation needed

Dom/Sub – Yes, obviously

Coercion – Yes

Pregnancy kink – Yes, don’t judge

Waterboarding – Yes…

Asphyxiation – Yes!

Fear Play – Yes…

Rough Sex – Yes, a must

You continue scrolling through the lengthy list, considering whether or not you want to try these with strangers. After finishing, you’re led to the next page.

‘Please describe your ideal roleplay scenario. Be thorough, leave nothing to the imagination.’

You bite your lip, thinking of the fanfics you’ve saved. You type your fantasies out, each detail more intense than the last. After clicking ‘next,’ you’re taken to a final page.

‘Click submit to put your profile live. Once you do, you’ll be matched with one or several kinksters. You can decline any offers you don’t find appealing. All profiles are verified, and you’ll only be matched with professionals. Be patient and have fun!’

You hesitate for a moment before clicking ‘Submit’ and hurriedly tossing your phone to the other side of the bed.

—

Two weeks later, you receive a match.

Lying on the couch after a long day at work, you’re reading a smutty fanfic when a notification pops up. It’s from the app. You forgot about it for the last few days, thinking no one would be interested in fulfilling your deepest, darkest fantasies. You sit up, heart racing as you click on the notification.

It’s from @DominantSirRyo.

‘Hello, Y/N. We matched 100% in kinks and interests. I’d like to know if you’re interested in meeting, or if you’d prefer to chat first.’

100%? That means every single one of your wildest fantasies. You click on his profile, scrolling through his photos. This has to be fake. There’s no way someone this attractive matched with you. He’s tall, muscular, with a strong jawline and a dangerous vibe. He looks like he could crush you with one hand—but also like he could hold you close, protect you from anyone who dared touch you.

You click on his “About Me.”

‘Hello, I’m Ryomen Sukuna. I’m 42. You will address me as ‘Sir’ during playtime. My kinks include but aren’t limited to: D/s dynamics, CNC, rough fucking, asphyxiation, primal play, and master-slave relationships. You can learn more about me if I deem you worthy. Goodbye.’

Okay, he’s got an ego. But you can work with that. You shamelessly like that in a man. You type out your response, hesitant but intrigued.

‘Hey, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you… i guess?’

‘I know your name, silly girl.’

‘Oh… right.’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to come off as rude. You have a beautiful name.’

‘Thanks… I don’t really know what to say…’

‘Do you want to get to know me or would you rather jump straight into building a scene?’

You hesitate, thinking about the choices. Do you want to get to know him better, or just dive straight in? You already know the basics. If this was an app like Tinder, you’d be planning a hookup by now.

‘I think we should build a scene and maybe get to know each other while we’re doing that?’

‘That works for me. I read your fantasies, and I’m thinking of building on that by…’

—

You sit in your car outside a secluded bar on the outskirts of town. Only two other cars are parked in the lot. It’s pitch black outside, and you haven’t seen anyone since you arrived. You’ve been texting Sukuna, or as he prefers, ‘Ro,’ for the past few days, fine-tuning your scene. You’re restless, your panties damp from the anticipation of everything he promised.

‘Stand outside your car and face the wall. Leave everything except your keys. I’ll hold on to them for you,’ Ro texts.

You squeeze your legs together, breath hitching. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Don’t play with me, little girl. Do as you’re told.’

You get out of the car and walk towards the bar, keys in hand. You look around, but see no sign of him. You think he’s in one of the other cars, but the place feels deserted. You turn around and stare at the wall. You can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. The scene you’ve fantasized of since forever is about to come true.

After a few minutes, you start to feel ridiculous. No sounds, no movement. Maybe he stood you up. You scoff. Of course, a guy this perfect would be too good to be true.

You turn to walk back to your car when someone grabs you from behind. Your breath catches as a large, rough hand covers your face. You scream, but it’s muffled as you’re dragged toward a car. The trunk pops open, and before you can react, you’re thrown inside. The trunk slams shut, and you hear a car engine start.

You gasp for breath, your mind racing. What if this isn’t Sukuna? What if it’s someone else? But you don’t have time to question it—your body is humming with arousal from the sheer intensity of the moment.

The car lurches forward, and you feel heat spreading between your thighs. It’s really happening.

By the time the car stops, you’ve stopped trying to track time. What if he’s not the man you thought he was? What if he doesn’t treat you like he said he would? The worry gnaws at you, but it’s swallowed up by the overwhelming desire that’s been building since he first grabbed you.

The trunk opens and blinding light floods your vision, forcing you to squint as you take in the towering figure above you. Sukuna. Your breath catches in your throat. The pictures didn’t do him justice—tall, broad, built like a man who could break you in half and enjoy every second of it. His sharp eyes rake over you, lingering on your trembling thighs.

He’s looking at you like he can see how horny and worked up you are beneath the trembles.

“Out.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

Your legs feel weak as you climb out of the trunk, body buzzing with adrenaline. The moment your feet hit the ground, he grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Dripping already?” His thumb brushes your lower lip, and you can’t stop the way your thighs press together. He smirks. “You’re a nasty girl. Perfect.”

You swallow hard, waiting for instructions.

He steps back, rolling his shoulders, the moonlight catching the ink on his arms. Beyond him, an empty field stretches out, the tree line dark and endless in the distance. The wind rustles the tall grass. It’s eerily silent—just you, him, and the stars.

“Here are the rules.” He crosses his arms, watching you like prey. “You get five minutes to run. If I catch you in twenty, I fuck you right here in the dirt.” His eyes darken. “Fight me, scream, beg—I don’t care. But if I catch you, you’re mine. Your safe word is banana. Understood?”

Your stomach flips, nerves and arousal tangled together. You nod.

“Words.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He checks his watch. “Run.”

Your heart leaps as you spin on your heels, sprinting toward the trees. The field stretches on forever, your lungs burning as you push forward. The night air is cool, but your skin is burning with anticipation. You don’t hear him following yet, but you know he will.

You duck behind a thick tree, chest heaving, ears straining for sound. A minute passes. Another. You peek around the trunk, and…

Nothing.

Maybe you ran faster than he expected. Maybe he really won’t find you. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you step carefully along the riverbank, watching the moonlight glint off the water. If you can just cross—

“Thought you could hide from me, little girl?”

A scream rips from your throat as you’re tackled to the ground, Sukuna’s heavy weight pressing your chest into the dirt. Your hands claw at the grass, nails digging into the earth.

“Let me go!” you snarl, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

He chuckles, the sound dark and indulgent. “Oh, you’re adorable.” His hand clamps around your wrists, pinning them above your head as his other grips the back of your neck. “Say all the right things while your cunt tells me otherwise.”

Your leggings are yanked down in one rough motion, cool air licking at your soaked panties. He pauses just long enough to slide his fingers along the damp fabric, feeling the proof of your arousal.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. His fingers press harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit through the fabric. “So fucking wet. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

You shake your head, but your body betrays you, thighs trembling, hips arching into his touch. He laughs, voice thick with satisfaction.

“Liar.”

The sound of fabric tearing makes your stomach flip—he didn’t even bother pulling your panties down, just rips them clean off before shoving two fingers inside you. A gasp catches in your throat, your walls clenching around the sudden intrusion.

“Yeah,” he groans, curling his fingers, dragging them along the soft spot inside you. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

Your body tightens, instinct warring with pleasure as he pumps his fingers in and out, slow but relentless, pushing you toward the edge. Just when your breath starts coming in broken little pants, he pulls away.

“No—”

You don’t get to finish you plea before the thick head of his cock presses against your entrance, and then—fuck. He drives into you in one harsh thrust, forcing your walls to stretch around his size.

A strangled cry tears from your throat. Your fingers curl around the hand that’s still holding your wrists. It hurts, it’s too much, you can’t handle it—

“Stop struggling slut,” The hand holding your wrists go to your hair as he pushes your face into the shallow riverbank. Cold water and dirt fills your mouth, a cruel contrast to the heat between your legs. He holds your face in the water so long that you start to feel he might actually kill you right here. your hands claw at him and he yanks you up. “Fuck, this cunt is squeezin’ me so tight.”

His hips roll, dragging his cock out until just the thick tip remains inside before slamming back in. The force of it jolts you forward, your breath leaving you in sharp gasps. You can’t catch your breath, you feel like you’re dying on his cock.

“Fuck, that’s right,” he growls, his grip on your hips bruising as he sets a brutal rhythm. He fucks you like he owns you, like he’s waited his whole life to ruin you, each thrust forcing a choked whimper from your lips.

“I-i, it’s—”

You writhe beneath him unable to form a single coherent thought, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His free hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing in tight, punishing circles. Your thighs shake. The pressure builds—sharp and unbearable.

“That’s it,” he breathes, feeling you tighten around him. “Come for me, you fucking slut.”

A sob rips from your throat as you shatter, pleasure hitting you like a violent wave. Your body spasms, walls clamping down around his cock, dragging him deeper. He curses, his rhythm stuttering, and then—

Heat floods you as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning as he spills inside the condom. His hips twitch, riding out the aftershocks as your body trembles beneath him.

For a long moment, the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, Sukuna chuckles, low and satisfied.

“Told you I’d catch you.”

He pulls out slowly, savoring the way your body clenches around nothing. His fingers trail down your spine before he’s rolling you onto your back, his gaze drinking in your wrecked state.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face. “All fucked out already?” You try to open your mouth but you can’t.

Sukuna hoists you up like you weigh nothing, one arm locked beneath your knees, the other supporting your back. Your head lolls against his chest, too spent to do anything but cling to the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling weakly into the material. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, strong, unbothered, like he didn’t just fuck the fight out of you by the river.

“You alright?” His voice is rough, but there’s something almost amused beneath it.

You hum, too dazed to form words. Your body feels boneless, tingling from the aftershocks, your thighs still slick where he’d ruined you.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. “That good, huh?”

The night air is cool against your sweat-damp skin as he carries you toward the car. With each step, you feel the effortless strength in his arms—the way his muscles shift, the easy control in his grip. He’s not even winded.

“You went limp so fast,” he muses, squeezing your thigh. “Thought I fucked you unconscious for a second.”

You manage a breathless laugh. “Almost.”

His smirk is audible. “Cute.”

By the time he reaches the car, you’ve half-melted into him, your body pliant in his hold. He nudges the passenger seat open.

“In you go.”

He sets you down gently—surprisingly so, given how ruthless he was moments ago. The contrast sends a strange heat through you. Your legs are still shaky, barely able to support your weight, and he notices.

“Tch.” He grips your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Still floaty?”

You nod, licking your lips.

Sukuna hums, eyes dark with something unreadable before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your jaw—slow, deliberate, entirely different from the way he’d just handled you. It makes your breath hitch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin. “You did perfect.”

Your chest tightens. Before you can respond, he pulls back, shutting the door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

The car hums to life, the vibration sinking into your spent body as you stare up at the night sky through the open window. Your body still throbs with the memory of him, your heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the road as he drives you back—back to where it all started, already knowing this won’t be the last time.

Not even close.