#and she's literally already back in the world

[prettygirl-gabi]

Special Guest

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

POV: First-person

Fandom: UConn’s Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1,500+

Summary: we have a special guest for the podcast

Tags: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowngirlypop , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @authentic-girl03 , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani

I adjust my mic and glance at Kayla, who’s lounging comfortably against my pillows, setting up her recording equipment.

“So, let me get this straight,” I start, tilting my head at her. “You, Kayla Williams, decided that my dorm—my bed, specifically—was the best place to record this episode?”

Kayla smirks. “You act like this isn’t the most comfortable setup ever. It’s cozy, it’s intimate, it’s giving vibes. Plus, do you really think I was about to record in one of those stiff chairs in the common room? Be so for real.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You just didn’t wanna book a studio.”

“Correct.” She grins, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “Now, get comfy, and let’s start—”

Before she can finish, my dorm door swings open, and in walks Paige.

Scratch that—drags herself in.

She looks exhausted, still in her practice gear, her low ponytail a little frizzy from sweat, and her duffle bag barely hanging onto her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just lets out a deep sigh and makes a beeline for my bed.

“Uh, hey?” I say, watching as she tosses her bag to the floor, taking her ponytail out and flops onto the mattress like she’s been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Without hesitation, she burrows into me, laying her head directly on my stomach, her arms loosely wrapping around my waist.

I blink down at her. “Paige?”

She hums in response but doesn’t move.

Kayla raises an eyebrow. “Yo, is she good?”

“She had morning practice,” I explain, running a hand through Paige’s locs. “Guess it wiped her out.”

Kayla snickers. “Nah, this is crazy. She didn’t even say hi.”

I poke Paige’s shoulder. “You good, baby?”

Paige nuzzles deeper into me, sighing. “Mhm.”

“Wanna move?”

“No.”

I glance at Kayla, who’s grinning like she’s witnessing something hilarious.

“Oh, she’s whipped,” Kayla says, adjusting her mic. “You sure you still wanna record? Your girl looks real comfortable.”

I glance down at Paige, who’s already breathing slower, her body completely relaxed against mine.

“She’ll be fine,” I say, settling back into the pillows. “If she’s tired enough to fall asleep while we talk for an hour, she probably needs the rest.”

Kayla shakes her head, still smirking. “Alright, your relationship is crazy soft, but let’s get into it.”

She presses record, and just like that, we start the episode.

—

Thirty minutes in, Paige hasn’t moved an inch.

She’s completely knocked out, her breath warm against my hoodie, her arms still lazily wrapped around me. Every now and then, she shifts, sighs, or tightens her grip, but for the most part, she’s dead to the world.

Kayla, of course, is having way too much fun with this.

“Okay, so what I’m gathering,” she says, pointing at Paige’s sleeping form, “is that you got this superstar, face-of-UConn-basketball, Paige Bueckers, so down bad that she literally needs to be on you to function properly?”

I roll my eyes. “She’s just tired.”

Kayla gives me a look. “Nah, see, I’ve known Paige for a while, and I ain’t never seen her like this with anyone else.”

I fight a smile, absentmindedly running my fingers through Paige’s hair. “She likes being close to me. Is that a crime?”

Kayla grins. “Not at all. It’s just hilarious how you try to act all nonchalant about it.” She leans toward the mic dramatically. “Y’all, let it be known that Paige Bueckers is a clingy girlfriend. Possibly the clingiest.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s not that clingy.”

Kayla gestures at Paige. “Bro. She fell asleep on you mid-podcast. You might as well get her a ‘Property of Y/N’ shirt at this point.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “She does have a hoodie that says ‘Y/N’s Favorite.’”

Kayla howls. “Oh, nah! That’s crazy. Ain’t no way.”

I nod, grinning. “Got it for her last Valentine’s Day.”

Kayla wipes a fake tear. “This is beautiful. True love.”

I shake my head, still smiling as we move on to the next topic.

—

By the time we wrap up the episode, Paige is still dead asleep.

Kayla stretches, cracking her knuckles. “Alright, that’s a wrap. Great episode, and we got bonus content of you being the human equivalent of a teddy bear.”

I snort. “Glad I could provide entertainment.”

Kayla stands, gathering her stuff. “I gotta bounce, but good luck getting your girl off you.” She nudges Paige’s leg. “Yo, Bueckers, you alive?”

Paige groans, barely lifting her head. “Barely.”

Kayla smirks. “Your girl’s free now. You gonna let her move?”

Paige ignores her, instead snuggling back into me, her voice muffled against my hoodie. “No.”

Kayla cackles. “Yeah, I’m outta here.”

She gives me a knowing look before heading for the door. “Text me when you finally escape.”

I roll my eyes. “Bye, Kayla.”

Once she’s gone, I glance down at Paige, brushing a few stray locs out of her face. “You good, sleepyhead?”

Paige hums. “Better now.”

I smile. “You slept through my whole podcast, you know.”

She grins sleepily, eyes still closed. “Best nap I’ve ever had.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re so spoiled.”

She finally cracks one eye open, looking up at me with that soft, lazy smile of hers. “By you? Absolutely.”

I can’t even argue with that. Instead, I kiss her forehead, letting her sink back into me.

She’s gonna be wide awake later, and I should make her get up soon.

But for now?

I let her stay exactly where she is.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[lananiscorner]

Reblogging this version and stealing the tags as well:

#i realized this when I was following#gen padalecki#she was talking about the garden#and livestock#and book clubs#and doing so many things with the boys#and i realized that if she had to work#like i have to work#and didn't have the money to hire people to do shit#she couldn't do all of that either#and then i unfollowed her#because it wasn't relevant to me#and was just making me feel bad about myself#even though i knew we were not on the same boat#she's in a yacht#and i'm in a rowboat#and you can't compare the two

This is so important, especially when it comes to body image.

If you ever find yourself looking at someone and thinking "damn, I wish I was as slim and toned as that insta model" or "damn, I wish I was built like that Navy Seal dude"... remember that this is literally PART OF THEIR JOB. You can't be an insta model without being slim and you can't be a spec ops soldier without being in excellent, buff shape. And as a result, people like that spend A LOT of hours in the gym. Like, a lot A LOT. And no, not off hours, after already working for 8+ hours a day like you with your desk job. If you are trying to emulate people like that while not being in that job, you are essentially trying to do two jobs at once. And that ain't a sustainable way to live (you can make it work, but good grief, at what cost...)

And any time you look at someone rich enough to afford somebody else to do their cooking and cleaning and child care? Dial your own expectations way the hell down, because those are freaking time sinks. There's a reason rich people hire other people to do that shit for them (because it's work--and unless you are rich it's work you HAVE TO do for free, because cooking is kind of important for eating and cleaning is kind of important for being healthy and if you don't take care of your kids they have a high risk of ending up dead).

I would also add to this that sometimes it really is too late/impossible to strive for something that you would like to be your top priority. I have asthma and I'm nearing 40. Even if I started working out right now, with the same diet and exercise regimen as a soldier, I would not be able to get that level of fitness, because 1) my lungs aren't build for that and 2) aging is a thing and my body's prime days are over.

And that sucks. Realizing that there are legit, unchangeable roadblocks to things you would like to make your priority SUCKS. And it's okay to be angry and frustrated about that for a while, and to grieve the opportunities you wish you had but never will. It's perfectly fine and normal and healthy. So long as you remember that grief is not a place to be forever. Life goes on. There's more beauty to find in the world and so much more to live for rather than wallowing in sadness forever.

So, if you find yourself with something that you want to make your priority, but cannot, for circumstances outside of your control, ask yourself "okay, but how much do I have to dial back the intensity to make it work and still have it be a top goal?"

One of my goals for this year is to go swimming again. I used to do that competitively. I would love to get back to that same level of intensity again, but 1) I am getting old, 2) I have a full-time job, and 3) it's not something I can just do at home anytime I want--I have to take a bus to the city swimming pool to get there and they ain't open 24/7. So no, I will not be swimming again with the same regularity and intensity as before, but I will try to find a time window that will work with my job and the commute and the opening hours and I will take as much swimming as I can get, because good grief, I miss the water.

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

[hcneymooners]

⋆ up until the very last ember of my heart extinguishes, i will be thinking of you.

dj!mel x best friend!fem!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you & mel have always been thick as thieves, and things have yet to change. but lately, you've been thinking of mel differently and, well—maybe you want more. cw: dj!mel, best friend!reader, female!reader, no age gap i fear, you guys are in your twenties, modern!au, resolved sexual tension, pining, friends to lovers, clubbing, not actually unrequited love, explicit sexual content, dom!mel, sub!reader, lowkey y'all are switches, wall sex, tender sex, vaginal fingering, edging, cunnilingius, oral sex (r!receiving), couch sex, mel is actually insane about you, obsession, possessive behavior, squirting, face riding, pet names, you guys are very soft for each other.

notes: i love her so much guys; i'm gonna be sick. hope you enjoy. this is really rough for my first time back in a while but it is what it is, hmm?

“you’re loyal to her. i’ve never gone a night without seeing you here.”

the words are screamed directly into your ear and you stumble a bit, already off kilter thanks to the lychee martinis you’ve been sipping since the beginning of the evening. the world is beautiful like this: slurred into soft strobes of turquoise, gold, green that caress the sweaty gleaming bodies of the people spinning within it. the set for tonight is still danceable but decidedly slower than usual, honing in on the loneliness and escapism other people may desire on valentine’s eve.

you blink blearily at the girl vibrating next to you. she shakes with a jitter you know belongs either to ketamine or cocaine—or perhaps both. ck-ing was a popular method of dressing up a club night in london. you stop swaying to the beat, body still as you focus on her completely. mel once told you that this was your pull—this ability to make whomever was in front of you feel as though they were the most important thing in the world to you.

“sorry, what?” you finally push out.

“mel,” the girl shouts again, gesturing to the stage way up front. “whenever she’s performing, you’re here!”

you glance up at the woman in question, face softening as you watch the way her body flows into her highly practiced routine of dance. tonight the movements are more minimal, courtesy of her dress—a masterpiece of fanned peacock feathers that catch and scatter light with every subtle movement. the feathers are arranged in a mesmerizing spiral from the jeweled clasp beneath her arm, each eye seeming to watch the crowd as she moves. it's shorter than her usual style, ending mid-thigh in a flutter of iridescent tips that make her look like some rare, exotic bird. every time the bass drops, the feathers tremble in response, creating a hypnotic dance of green-blue shadows across her skin.

it’s not typical for a dj-ing outfit, but mel has cemented herself as a rich girl with a talent. everyone knows who she is, who her mother is. they love that she comes down to their level during the weekends, covers herself in glitter and spins together a beat like some kind of opulent spider.

"yeah," you shout back, your voice still managing to sound tender. "she's my best friend."

the words feel both true and incomplete in your mouth - they always do. you've been "best friends" since you quite literally crashed into her at university, spilling your coffee all over her white hermès sweater. instead of the fury you'd expected, she'd laughed, dragged you shopping for a replacement, and somehow ended up buying you three sweaters instead.

that was mel all over: excessive, generous, impossible to refuse.

"lucky!" your momentary friend shouts back and your mouth dips into a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

lucky. right. lucky to be the one who holds her hair back after bad nights, who listens to her practice sets until dawn, who knows exactly how she likes her tea when she's stressed (earl grey, splash of oat milk, two sugars). lucky to be the one who gets to love her from this careful distance, never quite close enough to risk everything.

the girl disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the music again. mel's current track winds down, bleeding into something slower, more haunting. you recognize it immediately—it's one of her original pieces, the one she'd made you listen to first, cross-legged on her bedroom floor at 3 am, her face anxious and hopeful in the low light.

the memory makes your chest ache. up on stage, she's different from that vulnerable version of herself. her movements are precise and controlled, even in that impossible dress. you watch as she adjusts something on her deck, the feathers shifting across her back like ripples in dark water. when she reaches up to adjust her headphones, the dress catches the light in a way that makes your breath catch.

you're not the only one watching. the crowd around you is entranced, and you hear snippets of their whispered appreciation. the warmth of your tipsiness is starting to wear off. you’re suddenly so much more aware of yourself, of the differences between you and the luminescent girl on stage.

tonight you’ve chosen a simple black midi dress with a scoop neck that cups your chest gently. the tops of your breasts swell up softly at the mouth of the fabric, gleaming with a golden sheen that could only belong to your beloved diamond shimmer bath and body works mist. your hair has been longer by a copious number of extensions, the bundles pooling together at your lower back. tinsel is strung artfully in-between some strands, a careful layering courtesy of mel.

as you look around at the people around you, you feel boring and a bit underdressed. everyone is suddenly so much cooler than you and the thought brings a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the embarrassment strong in its resurgence. you shift in place as the song changes to something a bit more fast-paced. there’s a chorus of screams, shouts of pleasure, and the floor begins to shake as people flood it to dance. you smile tightly as someone slams into you rather harshly, their apology half-assed and unfocused.

you clutch the top of your mother’s vintage ysl clutch, the chain a bit rusted and the body bulging with a combination of your house keys, your lip combo, some shit from work you didn’t take out in time, and the normally slim body of your phone which as been made bigger by the chunky sides of your artisan bedazzled phone case. the multiple polaroids of you and mel in the back didn’t help the situation in any way, the glossy memories slightly distended by the rolled bills you’ve tucked back there for emergencies.

as you turn to navigate the sudden pit of people, the music lowers just enough so that mel’s soft steady voice bleeds through. the lights flash once, twice, a third time; the bulbs are hot and pink. you know what’s coming, but you still don’t turn around, though your mouth twitches in a smile.

"hey, london," mel croons and the crowd screams back at her, eager to greet the woman soundtracking what is probably just another tuesday evening. "i have a question before i finish up. i don't want to forget."

your heart stutters in your chest. she does this sometimes, turns you into an unwitting participant in her performances. you remember the first time she did it, six months ago, how your knees had gone weak at the way she'd claimed you so publicly, so casually. how dangerous it had felt, how thrilling.

"has anyone seen my girl?"

the crowd goes crazy and you lift a hand to your mouth to hide your smile, heat flooding your cheeks. you hate how easily she can undo you, how these little moments of possession—even if they're just part of her show—make your pulse race. your free hand unconsciously touches the delicate gold chain around your neck—her birthday gift from last year, a tiny hextech crystal pendant that she'd said "reminded her of home."

"i came in with her. you know her, right? gorgeous little thing in a short black dress. kind of looks like…"

you close your eyes, remembering how she'd fussed over you earlier tonight, her fingers gentle as she wove tinsel through your hair. 'perfect,' she'd murmured, her breath warm against your ear, and you'd had to suppress a shiver. now, surrounded by strangers who are about to echo what you've felt for years, the irony isn't lost on you.

she trails off, holds out her mic to a group of girls right below her who giggle out the finishing portion of her sentence.

“…the love of my life!” they sing, drawing out the ‘i’ for a long while.

mel’s laugh echoes through the speakers, the sound throaty and raw. on cue, the music begins: “please don’t be love of my life” by caitvi, (calvin harris mix). they were a rock band that accidentally stumbled into becoming the summer muses for every edm fiend in existence.

you clutch your empty martini glass with a renewed strength, fighting until you manage to clutch a hand on the bar. the bartender smiles at you, complimenting your perfume which you don’t even think is still on your skin. you say thank you anyway, laughing openly as they tease you about your fondness for lychee. you’ve always been this way, you want to say, always holding on to what you know in the hopes that it’ll eventually love you back.

instead, you look over your shoulder at mel’s far off silhouette. there’s a moment where she looks up, seems to look at you. you don’t know if she really sees you, given your distance and the disorienting nature of the club. you smile regardless, raise a hand to wave lightly. the chrome bow on your acrylics flashes meanly, signaling your position.

she looks way, smiles earnestly at the crowd, and you drop your hand. the moment is broken, like always. as you move to pull your refreshed martini by the stem, mel’s dj tag sounds: sounds of birds of paradise, interwoven into one another over a damagingly sad violin sample. it’s her way of letting the people know that this will be her last couple of songs for the evening.

the birds’ calls fade into the melancholy beginning of “healing” by gordo featuring drake. the opening notes reverberate through you and you press your lips together, body thrumming with the effect of being noticed. she had seen you. that was the only reason she was playing this song. it had been your favorite for the past month, and now here it was on blast at one of the most elite clubs in the city.

‘i want to see you dance to this,’ she’d told you one evening, her mouth trailing against your shoulder. you were twisted together in your bed, the blankets plush around you as the two of you shared her airpods. ‘i want to see you have fun, lose yourself.’

‘i can’t lose myself,’ you’d said back, mouth rising in a secretive smile.

mel had lifted your hand teasingly, bit it gently, and then interlinked her fingers with yours.

‘don’t worry. i’ll find you.’

you look back at her, find her leaning over her deck with a finger pressed pensively to her mouth. she quirks an eyebrow and gestures to the crowd, as if asking why you’re not inside of it. you smile despite it all and abandon your martini, wiggling through the gaps of people until you're up front.

the bass drops and the crowd surges forward, but you hold your ground, eyes locked on mel. she's watching you now, really watching you, her movements more deliberate as she works the deck. you recognize this version of the song; it's her own remix, the one she'd been perfecting for weeks in her home studio. she'd added layers of ethereal synths that make it feel like you're floating, like you're the only person in the room who really understands what she's trying to say.

she gestures to her security guard, a subtle movement that you've seen countless times before. within moments, strong hands are parting the crowd, creating a path to the booth. your heart pounds as you're ushered up the steps, into her domain of switches and lights and pulsing energy. the peacock feathers of her dress brush against your arm as she pulls you close, her free hand settling on your waist.

"dance with me," she murmurs into your ear, her voice carrying despite the thundering music. her fingers trace patterns on your hip, and you wonder if she can feel you trembling. "show them what this song was made for."

you let your body move with hers, falling into the rhythm she's created. the feathers of her dress catch the light with each movement, creating a private light show just for the two of you. she keeps one hand on the deck, maintaining the perfect flow of music, but her other hand never leaves your body, guiding you through the dance like she's afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

the crowd below is going wild, but you barely notice them. all you can focus on is the way mel's breath catches when you press closer, the way her fingers tighten on your waist when you roll your hips. the tinsel in your hair catches the light, mixing with the iridescent shimmer of her dress until you're both wrapped in a cocoon of glitter and sound.

"see?" she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "i told you i'd find you."

the words send a shiver down your spine, and you turn your head slightly, catching her gaze. there's something different in her eyes tonight, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. maybe it's the valentine's eve atmosphere, or maybe it's the way the lights are hitting her face, but for a moment, you let yourself believe that the look she's giving you means what you want it to mean.

she transitions into the next song seamlessly, but keeps you close, as if she's forgotten that this isn't how she usually ends her sets. as if she's forgotten that you're supposed to be just her best friend, watching from the crowd like always. as if, just for tonight, you could be something more.

the spell breaks when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the booth's chrome panels. you see yourself pressed against her, see the way you're looking at her: desperate, obvious, completely transparent. the music suddenly feels too loud, the lights too bright, your skin too tight. you're acutely aware of every place her body touches yours, and it's simultaneously too much and not enough.

"i need—" you start, but can't finish. mel's hand tightens on your waist for a fraction of a second before you pull away. you gesture vaguely toward the floor, not meeting her eyes. "sorry, i just—"

you don't wait for her response, practically stumbling down the booth steps. the crowd that had been watching your dance parts easily, perhaps sensing your urgency. you hear the next dj's tag start to play—some remix of a taylor swift song—which means mel's set is over. which means she might follow you. the thought makes you move faster.

you trip over your feet, your heel catching on the bone of your ankle as it lifts and you fall. your knees crack against the ground, but you regain your momentum. your neck is warm and you lift your hair with one hand as you spin, eventually locating the flickering neon sign denoting the bathroom.

the bathroom is mercifully empty when you burst in, all perfectly-cut marble and deep blue lighting that makes your reflection look expensive and almost admirably tragic. you press your palms against the cool counter, letting your head hang down as you try to steady your breathing. the bass from the club thrums through the walls, muffled but persistent, like a heartbeat.

“you’re always so fucking stupid,” you whisper to yourself, watching a tear splash onto the marble. you'd let yourself get carried away, let yourself pretend. but mel is mel. this is the girl who turns heads when she walks into rooms, who has fashion houses begging to dress her, who could have anyone she wants. and you're just… someone else.

her best friend, you suppose. the girl who’s responsible for holding her hair back when she's sick, who listens to her practice sets, who loves her so strongly that it feels akin to having a spear sunk through your chest.

the bathroom door opens with a soft whoosh, and you know it's her before she speaks. you can smell her perfume. it’s something custom-made in paris, a mix of lily, amber, and caramel. you don't look up.

"hey," mel says softly, and you hear the click of her heels on the marble floor as she approaches. "what happened up there?"

you close your eyes, trying to ignore how the marble feels like ice beneath your palms, how your body still burns where she touched you in the booth. "nothing happened, melly. i just needed some air."

you use your nickname for her as a way to disarm her, but mel has always been immovable when it came to getting something that she wants. the silence that follows feels incredibly long, but you know it hasn’t even been ten seconds. you lean forward, splash water on your face. blindly, you search for a paper towel but you’re handed a small hand towel instead. your makeup transfers onto the fabric, staining it with the traces of your exhaustion and loneliness.

"[name], look at me." her voice is gentle but firm, the same tone she uses when she knows you're lying. when you don't move, you hear her sigh, the sound followed by the soft rustle of feathers. then her hand is on your shoulder, turning you around.

she's closer than you expected, close enough that you can see the individual glitter particles scattered across her collarbones, catch the faint sheen of sweat at her temples from performing. the peacock dress seems alive in the bathroom's soft lighting, each feather shifting with her breath. you try to step back, but the counter prevents your retreat.

"you were crying," she observes, reaching up to brush her thumb beneath your eye. her touch lingers longer than necessary, and you hate how your body betrays you, leaning into her hand like a flower seeking sun. "why were you crying?"

"i wasn't," you lie, even as another tear escapes. "it's just the vodka. you know how i get."

"yeah," she says, and now both her hands are cupping your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are dark, intent, stripped of their usual playful gleam. "i know how you get when you're drunk, and this isn't it. this is something else."

you try to laugh but it comes out choked. "melly, please—"

"when you were up there with me," she interrupts, one hand sliding down to rest against your neck, her thumb pressed gently against your pulse point, "what were you thinking about?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with possibility. you can feel your heartbeat racing beneath her thumb, wonder if she can feel it too. the bathroom suddenly seems smaller, the air thicker. somewhere outside, the music has changed to something slower, more intimate. the bass line crawls up through the floor and into your bones.

this is how love always finds you, corners you. it's a snake that's flat enough to slide underneath the door. you always watch it passively as it slides up your body, only crying out when it bites.

"i was thinking," you start, then stop, swallowing hard. her eyes track the movement of your throat. "i was thinking about how great you were tonight, how—how beautiful you are. ‘nd i was thinking about how some things can look real without being real. like stage lights. or club nights. or best friends who—"

you cut yourself off, but her grip on your neck tightens slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. the feathers of her dress brush against your thighs, a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

"or best friends who what?" she prompts, her voice low, almost dangerous. she's close enough now that you can feel her breath against your lips, can smell the champagne she'd been sipping between sets.

the door to the bathroom opens, the sound of the club surging in, and you both freeze. mel doesn't move away, doesn't drop her hands. instead, she leans closer, her lips brushing your ear.

"we're not done with this conversation," she murmurs, the words a promise that distills heat through your body. "come on."

she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the look in hers makes your knees weak. you open your mouth to respond, but—

the bathroom door swings shut again, leaving you both in that suspended moment. your "okay" comes out barely above a whisper, but she hears it. of course she hears it. she’s always heard you, even when you chose not to speak.

♤

the ride home is thick with unspoken words.

mel's driver, marcus, keeps his eyes professionally forward as you slide into the back of the bentley, the leather seats cool against your bare legs. mel follows, close enough that the feathers of her dress spill over onto your thigh. neither of you speak, but her pinky finger finds yours in the darkness between your bodies, hooking together like you used to do in university when one of you needed grounding.

london slides past the tinted windows in a blur of neon and shadow. you watch the reflections of passing streetlights play across mel's profile, catching the sharp edge of her jaw, the elegant line of her neck. she’s removed her performance jewelry, but missed a spot of glitter near her ear. without thinking, you reach up to brush it away.

she catches your wrist before you can retreat, her thumb pressing into your pulse point again. the car feels smaller in a matter of minutes, the air between you charged with electricity. she turns to fully face you, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she can slide your pointer finger into her mouth. the suck of her lips is gentle, tender. you watch her head bob as she slides down further, then pulls off.

she doesn't let go of your wrist for the rest of the ride.

when the car pulls up to her mayfair townhouse, you feel like you're moving through a dream. the click of her heels on the steps echoes in the quiet street. to you, they're like gunshots and you have the irrational thought of the neighbors coming out to complain, to tell you that your desire is choking them in the same way you feel now. your own steps are less sure, thanks to the martinis and the way your whole body seems to be humming with anticipation.

she fumbles with her keys briefly, something you've never seen her do, and then you're inside. the door closes behind you with a soft click that seems to echo in the darkness. neither of you move to turn on the lights. the moonlight filtering through her floor-to-ceiling windows is enough to see by, casting everything in shades of silver.

she looks unreal, like a figment of your imagination. you pinch the inside of your thigh, letting out a hiss of air from in-between your teeth. she moves closer, fingers the indentation where your nails had dug into the skin.

you shake, but she only steadies you.

"melly," you start, but she shakes her head, settling both hands on your waist.

gently, she maneuvers you until your back meets the wall. a hand lifts to settle at the base of your neck, her lithe fingers threading into your hair so that she can cup the back of your head. she’s making sure your head doesn’t hit the stone, sacrificing her own skin to ensure your comfort. the thought makes you warmer than before.

mel watches your face, her eyes almost erratic as she searches for whatever sign she needs. she comes flush against you and your legs part instinctively to make room for her, spread to accommodate the whole of her.

she lowers her head, mouth coming to burn against your neck as she presses a kiss there. you let out a small, weeping sound as if her lips have enabled a release inside of you. in a way they have. you soften, melt into her and find the strength to touch her.

your hands grasp at mel’s neck and she hums in satisfaction, working her teeth into the meat of your neck like a vampire. she pulls back only to look down, freeing a hand from your waist to inch the hem of your dress up.

you moan brokenly as you grow more exposed, your cunt wet against the baby blue lace that holds it. the moonlight sneaks between the both of you and renders the fabric practically translucent, the blue so light in its glow that it seems closer to white.

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” mel whispers and you blink at her, your throat tight. “you always say it about me, and i never understand it. when i look at our pictures, i don’t see anyone else.”

your eyes slip low, going tender, and you cup her face.

“you’re perfect, mel.”

“i guess we’re a good match,” she murmurs and then she’s in you.

the motion is so smooth, so quick. you hadn’t realized she’d peeled the fabric of your panties back, pushed them to the side. you know nothing now except for the steady pump of her fingers. there are two working deep into the heart of you, searching and spreading your slick heat.

you cry out, eyes wide like a doe’s. mel only smiles, predatory and slow. her teeth gleam, two rows of perfect pearls. you feel out of your body, but she brings you back in with every stroke inside of you. her breathing is becoming heavy, labored. her eyes seem a little wild and the hand on your neck moves briefly to squeeze tightly at your waist until you let out a deep “unh.”

mel grins again at the sound and it makes you surge forward, crushing her mouth into a bruising kiss. you bite at her bottom lip until she opens and lets you in, your tongue lapping all over as if to consume her. she slips a third finger inside of you, curling at the walls of your cunt to make you clench down.

you continue to kiss her, tilting your head so that angle is better. you slot together perfectly and she moans into your mouth, increasing the speed of her thrusts. you break away from her and study her face, taking in the way her lip gloss is smeared wickedly around her mouth. her lips are swollen and dark and she takes one in between her teeth as she works deeper into you.

your head falls back and she returns her hand to the nape of your neck, catching you before you can hit the wall.

“you’re okay, mama,” she murmurs and you nod, eyes focused somewhere distant on the ceiling.

she knows how you get, how disassociative you can become when you’re overwhelmed with emotion. she watches as you go somewhere she’s unable to follow. your chest heaves with every exhale and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your tits, then another right in the middle of them. her mouth is dusted with glitter when she pulls away.

you fuck down on her hand, an animalistic moan crawling from somewhere deep in your chest. mel fucks you harder, grunting as she shifts you bodily up and down with the effort. you keen as she uses her thumb to rub your clit, the circles tight and concentrated. pleasure arcs white and hot up your spine and you close your eyes, mouth falling open silently.

“that’s it,” she says. “come on, baby. come on.”

“mel,” you gasp and she laughs lowly.

“what happened to melly?” she teases and you whine, a foot kicking out as she presses against your g-spot.

“melly, please,” you whisper. “fuck, please.”

“please what?”

"just please.”

nothing changes. she only watches you squirm and beg like a whore, her face impassive. it was moments like these where you were reminded of her mother. the thought sends another shot of arousal to your cunt and it drools down mel’s wrist, sticky and warm.

“mel, fuck. fuck, i can feel it. i’m almost—i’m right there. just please, baby.” you’re crying now, disoriented and breaking apart with every push of her fingers. “please. please, melly, please."

you drag your eyes from the ceiling to her face, your pupils dilated and bright like stars. her face suffers through a range of emotion before she curses and yanks her fingers out of you.

“no,” you sob, and she sushes you.

“just hang on a minute, mama. hold on,” she soothes, her hands coming to lift you from beneath your thighs.

mel moves quickly and you take comfort in the fact that she needs this as much as you do.

you find yourself draped over the couch, your stomach resting on the arm of the chair. there’s a slight application of pressure as mel forces you into an arch, your ass and cunt pushed up. she nudges your legs apart and then gets on her knees, her hands coming to rest on the back of your thighs as she leans in and puts her mouth on you.

“oh,” you moan and she hums into you.

she’s methodical and precise, her tongue slipping into the mix and filling you as best she can. her pace increases as she licks you front to back, twisting so she can suck and nip on your clit. you let out a high mewl as she grips the plush flesh of your ass, rocking you slowly until you’re able to continue the rhythm on your own.

the heat returns, spirals up from your stomach into your chest and throat. you whimper, letting your head fall forward and down. your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on riding her face, swiveling your hips in small circles to better grind your clit against her nose.

again you can feel it, that call to somewhere distant. mel feels the way you tighten around her tongue, the sudden stiffening of your thighs. she knows you’re just there, right at the golden gate of your private paradise so she removes her mouth and focuses completely on stimulating your clit with her fingers.

“mel,” you breathe. “melly—”

“i know, mama. you can do it. cum on my face. cum all over me, princess. mess me up, hmm?”

you reach down and she reaches up, instinctively understanding what you’re aching for. just as your fingers intertwine, you fall apart. your arch drops and mel hums, closing her eyes as you squirt over her. she can feel you trembling and she opens her mouth lazily, letting your cum drip into it as if it was some sort of sacred rain.

her fingers lace with yours properly now, no more tentative pinky holds. you grip back with the strength of a soldier at war, your eyes rolling shut as you hump against her face and ride out your high. mel only lets you use her, dragging her other hand down to grope at her throbbing pussy.

eventually, you settle and she tugs you down so that you’re sitting dazed and lax in her lap. her hands squeeze your ass as she noses at your cheek, slipping a light kiss onto your cheek.

"hey. hey, baby, look at me. are you with me?”

“ye—yeah,” you get out. “‘m with you.”

“let’s go upstairs," she says softly, and it's not quite a question. "unless—"

"yes," you interrupt, squeezing her hand. "yes."

mel makes no move to get up, however, and you watch her face.

“melly?”

"i need you to know," she says, a hand coming up to trace your jawline, "that whatever happens next… this isn't just because. this isn't just because we were dancing, or drinking, or—"

"i know," you whisper, even though you don't, not really. but you want to believe. god, how you want to believe.

mel shifts, tilts you so that you’re on your back. her braids have fallen from her signature bun, and they block out the little light spilling in from the window.

“baby, i want you. i love you, i need you, and i can’t—i can’t tell you enough how much i’ve wanted this. nothing matters to me more than you.”

“i know, melly. trust me, i understand.”

she shakes her head, opens her mouth. you lift a hand, dig your nails into the sides of her throat as you clutch at it for just one second.

“i understand.”

it feels like she’s been the only thing on your mind since the day you were born. you’ve been waiting for her ever since.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ wife tag: @s-4pphics

[sourco0kie]

https://www.tumblr.com/sourco0kie/775427187568525312/self-aware-au?source=share

Hey loved this and found it so interesting...and got an idea for a whole self aware au...possibly could be a series if you find it fun enough to write...already love what you did with this first writing and defiantly wanna see it in action and your take on this:

Self aware au...cowardly y/n. Just imagine a y/n who gets sucked into the game and is so nervous about the story because of the fights, rivalries, and etc...like they know the story of cookie run so they are TERRIFIED at first when they first enter the world...maybe nervous at first when the cookies become self aware but scared when actually in the world as themselves but a cookie form...just a powerless cookie!

Cue them getting dragged through story, thinking they are gonna die...but here is twist, especially because of this writing I really liked: the cookies adore them! So every time they think they are about to die or get caught in the crossfire? Nope, they are perfectly safe and loved! Can't wait to see all the hilarious senarios of y/n panicking and thinking 'this isn't gonna end well for me' only to be immediately proven wrong via y/n being protected, comforted, or whatever you want lol!

AAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!

Ideas are exploding in my head!

Self Aware Au

W/cowardly!Reader

You don't know how but you have been sucked into the game. At first you just wanna relax on the couch then suddenly, poof, you're in the game.

The first to meet you was the team. They saved you from a couple of cake hounds and cake wolves. You introduce yourself to them and oh what a wrong move.

Gingerbrave was instantly all over you, fawning on about you and finally excited to meet you. Both Pure Vanilla Cookie and Wizard Cookie were questioning how you got here.

That aside, Gingerbrave insists on having you travel with them. At first you don't agree, saying you rather not, already knowing what will happen next with all the spoiler episodes you watched. Wizard Cookie agrees with you until Gingerbrave literally begged for you to come.

Geez just like how you begged for new cookies to come home in your gacha.

You gave in and went with their adventure, honestly all the time traveling you felt bad. Not having the skill to do.. anything. They would reassure you every time, "It's okay.. [Name] Cookie. Just getting to know you along the way was a gift."

Gift? Okay Pure Vanilla..

Finally all of you arrived at the place, Beast-Yeast. Being there somehow gives you the chills, the crawling feelings of being watched.

You all met Elder Faerie Cookie. Soon White Lily Cookie. You both introduce yourself, luckily (or unluckily which ever you wanna see it) she doesn't seem to recognize you from outside the screen.

It's all great, until you meet him. Oh how the presence just makes you wanna coward back and run. Hide away from everything. Not to mention you can't do anything. And he can do anything he wants.

"Oh. I see I have quite an audience here! I am SO terribly sorry to have kept you waiting!!"

You froze, you can't move even as your mind screams at you to run. It wasn't scary when you passed this episode.. why is it now? Why do you feel fear now? Is it because you couldn't do anything, like closing the game?

"But now... The wait is over!"

Move your body, run! Anything!

"Your favorite trickster is here!

The sharp stares of his eyes, lands directly at you. Your body shakes. You know what will happen! You know what's next! But why are you still afraid? You expected this long ago!..

Oh what some silly thoughts!

Gingerbrave put a stance between you and the beast. He seems as scared as you are but.. he's determined enough to protect you. They all did.

The faerie kingdom fell into deceit, playing lies and truth like a game for fun. Shadow Milk Cookie returns once in a while to tell the stories Elder Faerie Cookie told them. But different.

It goes like you expected so you wouldn't fall for his lies easily. In one of the plays he described you. The divine, watching over them, Oh they were saddened when the five original power holders fell and sealed away.

No you were not.

At the end you watched as the team defeated the trickster. After he tried to swoop you away from them.

You watched both Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie exchange. Now you don't know where to go. You're lost without a home or anything. But they, accept you into The team with open arms. You have no choice either way, as you follow them to the next adventure.

[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Three]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

IT WAS A CLOUDY MORNING when Y/n Lancaster landed at Barcelona airport, her eyes still heavy from the lack of a good night's sleep. The midfielder was accompanied by her younger sister and her manager. It would be the first time in months that Y/n would appear in public after being away from the media following her injury.

On the other hand, it would be quite a surprise for Barcelona fans to discover that the best defensive midfielder from the English league had been signed for the next three seasons. Y/n tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack. Until the contract was signed, Y/n was still considered the vice-captain of Arsenal.

With determined steps and a professional demeanor, Y/n joined her manager in the meeting room of the Catalan team. She couldn't lie and say she wasn't anxious, because Y/n had to admit that her heart was about to jump out of her throat and give her a nervous breakdown. The midfielder had already read and reread that contract at least a dozen times the night before, and her tired expression seemed to be living proof of that.

This was supposed to be an ordinary Friday afternoon, but now Y/n was in Spain signing a contract with one of the biggest teams in the world, feeling relieved to have left a place that was once considered her home but had turned into a living hell.

"You know I can feel your nervousness from miles away," Aliyah whispered, observing Y/n's nervous smile. "It's not like the girls on the team are going to hate you. Remember, you're kind of an inspiration to these people."

Y/n sighed, knowing her sister was right about that. She shouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill before having her first interaction with her new teammates.

"But that doesn't change the fact that they might not like me, A," Y/n replied, hearing the girl's soft laugh.

"You always come up with impossible scenarios. You're literally one of the greatest players in English history. They might not like you that much, but they're not going to mistreat you either," Aliyah stated, gently squeezing her sister's hand.

With determined steps, Y/n paced back and forth in her new apartment. The place looked like a post-apocalyptic zone. Countless boxes were scattered around the living room as Y/n finished putting away some clothes in the closet.

Y/n had her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She was in the middle of the chaos, trying to organize it somehow. She stopped for a moment, looking around and taking a deep breath. The move from London to Barcelona had been quick, almost surreal, and now she was there, in a new country.

As she tried to decide where to place a bookshelf, the apartment door opened, and Aliyah, her younger sister, walked in carrying a shopping bag. Aliyah, only nineteen, had offered to help her with the move and, in a way, was also taking the opportunity to explore the city.

"Y/n, I brought some things for dinner. I assume you're not in the mood to cook today?" Aliyah said, placing the bag in the kitchen.

Y/n smiled, relieved to have her sister close for the next few months.

"You're an angel, A," she thanked, smiling.Aliyah laughed.

"Relax, I'll give you a hand here. But first, Rachel called. She said she needs to confirm some details for your presentation at the club tomorrow."

Rachel was Y/n's manager, an experienced and determined woman who always took care of every detail of the player's career. Y/n sighed, remembering that, besides organizing the apartment, she had a series of commitments to fulfill.

"Alright, I'll call her in a bit. What else did she say?"

"That you need to be prepared for the interviews. There's going to be a press conference, and everyone will want to know how you're adjusting, what you expect from the team, that kind of stuff. Oh, she also mentioned that the coach wants to meet you before the first training session."

Y/n nodded, trying to process all the information. She knew the pressure would be intense. Playing for Barcelona wasn't just an opportunity; it was a challenge. The expectations were high, and she needed to prove she was up to the task.

"Alright, let's take care of everything step by step," Y/n said, trying to calm herself. "First, let's get the house in order. Then I'll handle the rest."

Aliyah agreed, and the two began working together, unpacking boxes and organizing the apartment. Meanwhile, Y/n thought about what awaited her the next day. The presentation at the club, the first contact with the players, the training sessions... and trying to bring her fitness coach along.

"You were really born to play for Barcelona," Aliyah said, placing books on the shelf.

Y/n smiled, feeling a bit more confident. She knew the journey wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to make it worth it. After all, Barcelona was a city full of opportunities, and she was ready to embrace them.

[glamourscat]

FLOWERS? ISAGI YOICHI X READER

the bastard münchen vs pxg match HAS FINALLY ENDED. A lil (late Valentine’s) childhood bestie! x Isagi fic because I love him so much

Pathetic.

That’s how Isagi felt; truly and utterly pathetically in love.

It was foolish of him, really, falling for his childhood best friend. The one person who knew him better than anyone else, the one constant in his life. And yet, he had fallen anyway.

He had known you since before you could even string proper sentences together, back when the biggest problem in your tiny world was who got to play with the fluffy teddy bear. He had been there for every phase of your life, just as you had been for his.

The bad haircuts, the breakouts, the braces. The cringe stylistic choices that made you both groan whenever old pictures resurfaced. The triumphs and failures, the reckless dreams and harsh realities. Every best and worst moment you had been by each other’s side.

And because of that, maybe he should have realized sooner.

Your parents, his parents, had always teased. “You two will end up together eventually.” A statement so casual, so inevitable in their wise eyes. Maybe that was why he held back for so long. Maybe it was out of sheer defiance, or maybe it was the terrifying truth that you already saw him. Every flaw, every insecurity, every crack in his carefully built walls.

And yet, you still chose to stay.

To love someone who truly sees you, all of you, and still stays by your side? That scared the shit out of him.

But Blue Lock is over now. He felt like he had aged thirty years in that soccer prison, but it had been worth it. Because now, he was here. Walking freely through the streets with the weight of his dream in his hands. He was part of Japan’s World Cup team.

And you, his best friend, his everything, would be by his side, not just as his anchor but also as the team’s manager.

Isagi exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the selection of flowers before him.

He had faced some of the greatest strikers in the world. Outwitted geniuses on the field. Fought, struggled, won.

And yet, confessing to you on Valentine’s Day? Felt like the biggest challenge he had to yet face.

“Roses are too much, right?” he mumbled under his breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stared at the bouquets like they were an opposing team’s defensive lineup. Puzzle pieces hardly connecting in his brain. “I mean… yeah, they literally scream romance, but isn’t that kind of obvious? Too predictable? Shit.”

The old lady behind the counter glanced at him, unimpressed. She had seen countless lovesick fools in this exact position before, hell, today alone and Isagi fell right into that category.

Tulips? Too plain. Sunflowers? You might think he was calling you bright and cheerful, which—yeah, fair, but what if you took it as a joke? Lilies? What do lilies even mean?!

“You need help?” the florist finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admitted immediately. “I mean—yes? No. I’m just trying to figure out what flowers match a card that I, uh, may or may not have rewritten six times… as a valentines gift. Which turned out fine! I think. Maybe. Hopefully.”

The florist hummed, giving him a long, knowing look before glancing at the selection in front of her. “Alright, what kind of message are we going for here? Romantic? Sweet? ‘I’ve been in love with you since childhood and only just realized it because I’m a dumbass’?”

Isagi choked. “Why would you say it like that?!”

She gave him the flattest stare of his life. “Because that’s exactly what’s happening.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, fair point.”

The florist smirked before plucking a bouquet from the display. “Here. Go with these. A mix of daisies, lavender and forget-me-nots. It says you care, but you’re not coming on too strong. Subtle romance, but meaningful. Perfect for an idiot in denial.”

He took the bouquet, staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. “Huh. Yeah. This… this actually works. How did you—”

“Experience, kid. Now go before you start overthinking again.”

Isagi nodded, clutching the flowers like they were the winning ball in a match. Alright. Flowers? Check. Card? Done—well, kind of. Cake? As good as it was gonna get.

Now, he just had to actually go back home and give them to you.

…Oh, shit.

This was really happening.

This might actually kill him.

He is pretty sure his heart is beating faster than the last goal he scored while playing for bastard münchen. He feels like throwing up. Was this normal? Probably not. But despite everything he wants you to know. He needs you to know that at the end of the day, pathetic or not, Isagi Yoichi is in love with you. And it was damn time he did something about it.

But for his luck, as he walked out of the flower shop, he almost crashed into someone.

“I am so—“ before he could even get the words out his soul almost came out of his body.

YOU. Out of everyone, you. In front of him. With a bouquet of flowers too. Wait, FLOWERS? Who— you…. Did— who gave you those?

“Yoichi” you say, words coming out slightly higher pitched than intended, trying to act normal, but you’re pretty sure the panicked expression you were trying to fight off with a smile came off more as you were constipated, more than anything else.

“Y/n” he says, seemingly unaware of your mental state, thankfully? Or maybe you should be worried that he was so oblivious to it.

“ Are you g—“

“Who— gave you those?” He said so quickly, not even allowing you to finish your sentence.

Your eyes fall to the flowers in your arms, if your cheeks weren’t red before, you’re pretty sure they are now.

“Who gave you those?” you say, nodding to the flowers he had in his arms. Trying to change the subject.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second”

A moment of silence before you two burst out laughing from the strange moment.

“Alright— alright. On the count of three? Together?” You says amused

One. Two. Three.

“I got them from you” you two say in unison.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

That’s what his brain was screaming. He probably looked like an absolute moron, standing there with a confused expression and jaw open as he looked at you. Huh? Him? YOU GOT FLOWERS FOR HIM— AKCKEPWLCNGIVVIFNRNWPW.

“You— eh?”

That was it. That was all his brain could come up with. World-class striker, future ace of Japan, but the second you said you got flowers for him? Immediate system failure.

You smiled, shy but warm, the edges of your expression softening in that way that was playful yet so beautiful. It made his heart feel like it was about to spontaneously combust. “Yeah, you—is that so weird?”

Yes. No. Maybe. His brain was still rebooting.

“You—you got me flowers?” he repeated, as if the words might make more sense if he said them out loud.

“I mean, yeah,” you said, shifting your weight from foot to foot. The bouquet in your arms crinkled as you fidgeted with the wrapping. “It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? I figured i had to be clear because you’re so dense sometimes.”

“I’m not dense!” he argued immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Okay, fine. Maybe a little dense,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the rest of the world. “But—wait, why did you…?”

The words hung heavy in the air. Why did you get me flowers?

You took a shaky breath. “Because I like you, idiot.”

“I—wait—what?” He blinked, gripping his bouquet tighter like it might hold him upright. “Like… like-like?”

“Damn… and you say you aren’t dense” a small snort left your lips. “Yes, like-like!” you huffed, but your voice trembled a little. “I’ve… kinda liked you for a while. And I figured—if I didn’t say anything today, I’d probably chicken out forever and cry myself to sleep for the next month. Maybe two.”

“You like me,” he repeated dumbly, trying to wrap his head around it.

You tilted your head, exasperated. “Yoichi, please tell me those flowers are for me or am I about to die of embarrassment right now?”

“What? NO—I mean, yes! Yes, I like you too!” The words practically exploded out of him, way louder than he meant to. “I’ve liked you since—God, I don’t even know when. Probably since that stupid teddy bear fight when we were kids.. And—” Lord, he is rambling now. “And I have made you a card. A beautiful one, I think you will like it. And a cake. Though I burnt it the first time. Maybe the second time too. But, fuck yes, I like you too”

For a second, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, two idiots clutching flowers, blushing like middle schoolers with their first crushes.

Finally, you exhaled, shaking your head as you tried not to laugh. “Wow. We’re really bad at this.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “But, like… at least we’re bad at it together?”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “Together, huh?”

“I mean… if you want that. If you want me.” He said, trying not to look more giddy than he already is.

“I wouldn’t be standing here holding flowers and trying to not burst into flames after a confession that I definitely did not rehearse in my head twenty times for you if I didn’t, genius.”

In a rush of courage, Isagi moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, bouquets squished in between your guys’ chests. You smelled like warmth and home.

“Can I—uh,” he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, “can I kiss you?”

“Yoichi, if you don’t kiss me after all that, I’ll start overthinking and we know—.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His smile shushed you, as his lips finally met yours in a kiss that was a bit messy, yet soft and sweet. You tasted like that tea you like so much. A mix of honey, flowers and sugar that makes him greedy for more. Despite being in the middle of the sidewalk and in retrospect, he will for sure be embarrassed about the pda later.

But that’s a problem for later. Because the realisation that fuck yes, he is finally kissing you, settles in. And for the first time that day, but perhaps in his entire life, his brain went completely and blissfully quiet.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[evilminji]

Weird/Unusual Crossover time?

Weird/unusual crossover time! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ (oh shit~! She's back on her billshit!) (That's RIGHT! Nothing is sacred and NO ONE IS SAFE!)

ANYWAYS~

Danny Phantom. Cultivation Novels (my current obsession). A match made in hell? Or an exciting new adventure‽ Cause like... the Zone DOES go EVERYWHERE, right? Infinite means Infinite means "Literally Without End" Infinite.

As in, Forever.

You COULD, in fact, pick a direction and just... keep going. Forever. For always. Without end or limits. The Zone is not just "really, REALLY big and we need a word your mind could comprehend." Not "as big as a galaxy or the known universe". It is? On a scale that even GODS can not comprehend.

The place GODS go to die. A place they are BORN from. The great primordial soup where universe end and begin anew. Where the cracks are glued backed together, and the souls of the living flow in and out. Endless scraps of fabric, realities, atop a churning sea of green. Keeping everything even.

After all... you can't CREATE a soul. They got to come from SOMEWHERE. Where do you THINK they arrive from? When populations grow? Thin air‽

But... ah~, there in lays the rub, doesn't it? Would knowing the Zone? Knowing SOME of it's mysteries and machinations (for NO ONE, not even all the Ancients COMBINED, can ever claim to understand even a fraction of them all.) mean that Danny??? Was powerful in a Cultivation reality?

He's certainly a powerful GHOST.

But?? They FIGHT ghosts all the time. Wouldn't he be WEAKER and more in danger? As they try to hell the restless spirit move on? Not knowing he is balanced between life and death? They could very well kill him.

Which, given the moral standards of the Realm? Would NOT be viewed as a bad thing.

But! On the OTHER hand?

He is a ZONE ghost. Not a simple spirit. Far beyond what they are used to dealing with. Arguably? ASCENDANT. From a higher plane of existence. A lower one. Several steps to the side. He is, for all intents and purposes, shrimp colors to the human eye. The color blue to a blind man. An orb to the two dimensional.

CAN he even interact with the world's cultivation systems? Does it recognize him as a god? A dead man? Some sort of ascendant dead god?

Something... Not Right™

Yet still utterly natural? Clearly not meant to be here. Yet... not wicked. Granted, not, perhaps, benevolent. But...

Because what IS he? Is he a boy? A man? A corpse? Immortal, perhaps? Is this creature a demon? The resentful dead? They DONT KNOW! It... probably scares a lot of them. Makes some of them think he is a test. Probably makes OTHERS wanna fight (friend? Hey! New friend!).

And like? Why would Danny even BE there? He's already immortal. The swords are pretty cool... but he has Fenton tech.

So, WHY?

I propose?

His well know Anger Issues. His fear of becoming Dan. He's heard meditation is good for shit like that, right? Mindfulness and stuff. Sam recommended it. And? They were watching Fantasy Kung-fu 17, "bamboo monks of vengeance" (now with more slow motion aerial battles). So he was like? Hmmmm... those misty valleys and mountains shots DO looks relaxing... I could go camping...

Maybe find a mysterious old kung-fu monk? Is that what they are? Tucker. Tucker! What's the name of this genre again? Xanxia. Yeah. That! I'll do the whole "live, laugh, love. Hot girl, cultivation summer" thing! That'll fix my shit! This is a GREAT idea!

Thus? Danny. Terrorizing some poor Xanxia Cultivation world with his Zone Ghostiness. Pretending to be a human... very, VERY badly. Yes, hello Fellow Locals! It is him! Average Human Man! Take me to your *checks notes* Cultivation Sect! *smiles with far too many teeth*

#nailedit he's gonna get SUCH a good job at blending in! A thing that is both real and possible to achieve!

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @leftnotright @lolottes

[wlwsoccerfics]

BirthdayLove(KyraCooney-CrossXCatleyReader)

AN: Happy Birthday to our favorite pest. 🎉❤️🤍

summary: your Girl only deserves the best for her Birthday.

"y/n? Relax i am sure Kyra is gonna love her Gift! Little pest is so in love with you even if you just gifted her a rock she would thank you and love it! She loved the painting of the two of you for Valentines day alot! I know that cause she posted about it and it is already on the Wall of your room and Valentines day was Yesterday." Steph replied. She was your older sister. You and Kyra have been together for 3 years now. You are only a year old then your girlfriend.

You stare at Steph and chuckle softly.

"Steph this Is different! I am proposing!" You told your big sister. "And maybe it's time to stop calling her pest!" You added and laughed softly.

"i won't ever stop! You both are my pests!" She answered, grinning softly.

You two went back to work to put up a Banner you painted yourself that you wrote :

My sweet kybean,

From the Moment i first saw you i knew i wanted to be with you! You really are my world. Will you make me the happiest Woman alive and marry me?

Xoxo

Y/n-bear

And yes your sister teased you for this. But you honestly didn't mind.

You were thankful to have the time to prepare all of this cause Alessia took out Kyra for a birthday breakfast. So you knew it would be a while. Cause the two literally could talk about nothing for hours on end. Plus Alessia promised to let you know when they were on their way back. You managed to decorate your entire bedroom and the kitchen.

Steph left to go to over to Beth's with Calvin until it was time to practice. And after practice you had a little Team Dinner. Which was why you would celebrate with her when she would get back home from breakfast with Alessia. Which was in around 20 minutes If the Message you received from your friend and teammate was accurate. So you quickly got dressed. Putting on some black jeans, the flannel shirt Kyra loved so much on you and some black Vans.

When she walked through the door ,you walked over to her, three Red Roses and two white ones in your hand.

"hey, Happy Birthday to you again, my Love!" You told her, handing her the flowers, kissing her softly. She happily took the flowers and kissed you back.

"are you trying to continue Last nights/this Mornings Activities?" She asked and grinned sheepishly. You grinned back softly.

"i sure won't say no to that!" You let her know.

"is Steffy home? Or are we alone?" Your girlfriend asked.

"we are all alone!" You informed her, she jumped into your Arms when she heard that and you carried her to your shared bedroom. Trying to keep your cool. Ready for her to see the banner you made. You walked in with her and then turned around with her in your Arms on purpose so she would See what it said. And it didn't take her long to realize.

"oh my god!" She yelled out. You put her down and grabbed the ring box from the pocket of your jeans. "Are you pranking me? Was this stephs Idea?" She asked and you chuckle a little.

"ky, i wouldn't make jokes about this. Imagine i buy a ring to Joke about marriage?" You told her and then she looked at the ring ,which she hadn't even noticed yet but you only just realized that now.

"what ring...oh my god! Babe yes! This Is perfect! You are perfect!" She teared up and kissed you. You kissed her back and placed the ring onto her finger carefully. Now crying as well. of course this proposal had to be a bit chaotic. Otherwise it wouldn't be the two of you being involved.

"you just made me the happiest Person alive!" You answered and kissed her again.

Until the two of you had to leave for practice you basically spent the rest of your time cuddled up in bed.

No need to say that the Team went nuts when they found out. Even Alessia and Steph who of course already knew about this. They all were so happy for the two of you.

You all had a great practice for the upcoming game tomorrow. And team dinner afterwards was great as well.

When you came home that night you, Kyra and Steph had some Birthday cake on the Couch and watched a movie. Kyras choice or course.

"you have terrible taste in movies, pest!" Steph said and grinned softly.

"i have amazing taste in everything!" She stated.

"agreed, my fiancee can't do anything wrong!" You answered.

"you two are disgustingly adorable! My two little pests!" Your sister told you and laughed softly. Which Made the two of you laugh as well. Calvin was looking at you like you all lost your Minds. Which wasn't the first time that happened. But normal was boring. Right?!

[hisfavegirl]

Aemond Targaryen As Your Soulmate.

Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for letting me use your beautiful dividers 🫶🏻

When He Propose To You.

The sun is setting over the Grand Canyon, painting the sky in breathtaking hues of orange, pink, and gold. The air is crisp, the view endless, and as you stand near the edge, taking in the beauty of it all, you suddenly feel Aemond’s presence shift behind you.

You turn—and he’s kneeling.

For a moment, your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of him—Aemond Targaryen, always composed, always in control, now looking up at you with something raw, vulnerable, and impossibly intense in his eye. The small velvet box in his hand is open, revealing a ring so perfect, so undeniably you, that your heart stutters.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were meant to be mine,” Aemond says, his voice steady but thick with meaning. “I don’t want a life without you. I don’t want a world where I wake up and you’re not there. You are my beginning and my end. Marry me.”

Your hands fly to your mouth, tears welling up instantly. It’s overwhelming—the view, the moment, the way his voice carries so much devotion it nearly breaks you.

“Aemond…” your voice shakes as a teary laugh escapes. You’re nodding before you can even get the words out, dropping to your knees in front of him, throwing your arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes, of course, yes!”

The relief in his expression is palpable, but it lasts only a second before he crushes his lips against yours, his hands tangling in your hair, gripping you close like he never intends to let go. The Grand Canyon stretches infinitely behind you, but all you feel is him.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, a rare smile playing on his lips. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, slipping the ring onto your finger.

And as the wind rushes past, carrying your laughter and the echoes of your kiss into the canyon below, you know you’ll never forget this moment for as long as you live.

When You And Aemond Posted The Announcement Of Your Engagement.

The moment you and Aemond posted the engagement photo—a breathtaking shot of you two standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, the sun setting behind you, his lips pressed against yours while your hand is held up, showing off the massive engagement ring—the internet exploded.

“NOOOOOOOO THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING”

“SHE SAID YES?!? AEMOND YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WAIT FOR ME 😭”

“I just dropped to my knees in Target.”

“The way he’s kissing her and holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world… yeah, I lost.”

“HER RING IS BIGGER THAN MY FUTURE. WTF.”

“This is the worst day of my life.”

Aemond’s fan girls are in shambles.

Some are coping through edits, posting sad TikToks with captions like “POV: You just found out your delulu era is officially over” while playing heartbreak songs in the background. Others are full-on denial, claiming the ring is fake, that the post is a PR stunt, or that Aemond must have been forced into this.

Meanwhile, your fanboys are equally devastated.

“Nah, bro. Aemond really fumbled the bag by making her unavailable to the rest of us.”

“Congrats, I guess… but I’m never recovering from this.”

“I just saw the engagement post, and now I’m drinking straight from the bottle.”

“Aemond won. We lost. Simple.”

Some take it personally, posting dramatic black-and-white selfies captioned: “She was my last hope.” Others are already making peace with their fate, commenting:

“I will respectfully be seated at the wedding, but I’m crying inside.”

“Alright. I’ll admit it. They’re perfect together. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

And then there’s the absolute chaos in the quote tweets:

“THEY REALLY GOT ENGAGED IN THE MOST DRAMATIC WAY POSSIBLE. GRAND CANYON? ARE YOU KIDDING??”

“Aemond proposed on the edge of a literal canyon to remind us all that we are in the trenches while he is winning.”

As for Aemond?

He reads through some of the comments with a smug smirk, casually scrolling while resting his chin on your shoulder. When he sees a particularly dramatic tweet—“Aemond, you were supposed to be MINE. This is my villain origin story.”—he just chuckles, leans in, and murmurs against your skin:

“Let them cry. You’re mine.” 😏

Aemond Family Reaction To Your Engagement Announcement.

FAMILY GROUP CHAT

Alicent: Aemond. Call me. Now.

Helaena: Oh my gods!! Congratulations!! 🥹💜💍 I knew it!!!

Aegon: LMAO bro finally locked her down. About time, you possessive little shit.

Alicent: Aemond. Call. Me. NOW.

Otto: Did you at least think before making this public? Do you understand what this means?

Daeron: Damn, I was NOT expecting this today.

Helaena: You guys are so beautiful together 🥰 I want to start planning the wedding!!!

Alicent: WHY AM I FINDING OUT THROUGH INSTAGRAM, AEMOND?!!

Aemond: Relax, mother.

Alicent: RELAX?! You just announced your engagement to the entire world without telling your own family first!

Aegon: Let him cook, Mom. He’s been obsessed with her for YEARS. This was inevitable.

Aemond: Exactly.

Otto: Aemond, marriage is a strategic decision. We need to discuss this properly.

Aemond: I made my decision. She’s mine. That’s all that matters.

Alicent: YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE!!

Aegon: LMAO this is so funny. Mom is losing her mind, Otto is strategizing, and Aemond is just out here marking his territory.

Helaena: I think it’s romantic 🥹

IN PERSON REACTIONS

Alicent – Stressed. Disbelieving. But secretly relieved.

Pacing the floor, rubbing her temples. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why does he do this?” But deep down, she knows Aemond has never looked at anyone else the way he looks at you.

Otto – Already planning.

“Fine. If this is happening, we need to ensure everything is handled properly. The wedding must be perfect. We will discuss negotiations.”

Aegon – Living for the drama.

“Damn, I never thought I’d see the day. You really got my little brother down on one knee, huh?” Smirking as he claps Aemond on the back. “Congrats, bro. Hope you know she owns you now.”

Helaena – The happiest one.

Practically jumping with excitement, already brainstorming wedding ideas, sending Pinterest boards. “Ohhh, you’ll make the most beautiful bride!”

Daeron – Just vibing.

“Cool. When’s the wedding?”

Aemond? Just smirking, holding your hand even tighter, and not caring about anyone else’s reaction. Because in his mind, he’s already won.

When You And Aemond Posted Your Wedding Video On Internet.

The moment the wedding video dropped, Aemond walking out of the church, hand in hand with you, smiling—yes, actually smiling—the internet collapsed.

It was cinematic perfection. The camera captured every moment: the way Aemond’s usually cold expression melted into pure devotion, the way he gazed at you like you were the only thing in the world, and the way he held you so possessively, as if daring anyone to even breathe wrong in your direction.

The caption?

“Bound to you, in this life and the next. 🖤🔥”

And just like that, Aemond’s fanbase was in full mourning.

Instagram Comments Section: The Breakdown Begins

“I refuse to accept this reality. He was supposed to be MINE.” 💔😭

“Not me staring at this video like a delulu ex-girlfriend.”

“THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.” 😭

“Aemond smiling? Holding hands? Being openly affectionate?? This HURTS.”

“I bet she doesn’t even appreciate the way he loves her. That should have been ME.”

Twitter/X Reactions: Fangirl Mourning Period

“I just watched Aemond’s wedding video, and I’m officially dead inside.”

“His smile? His HAND on her waist? The way he kissed her forehead? Yeah, I’m logging off.”

“Someone check on the Aemond girlies. We’re NOT okay.”

“How do you cope when your fictional boyfriend gets married to someone who isn’t you?”

“Y’all see the way he looks at her? That’s not just love. That’s devotion. And I hate it here.”

TikTok Reaction Videos: Collective Breakdown

One girl crying into a pillow: “I just saw Aemond’s wedding video, and my life is over.”

Another girl dramatically drinking wine: “So this is what heartbreak feels like, huh?”

A group of fangirls holding a framed photo of Aemond while playing sad music: “We lost, ladies. It’s over.”

Someone stitching the video, whispering: “The way he smiles when he looks at her. I need to lie down.”

The Ultimate Betrayal: Aemond’s Wedding Reception Photos

If the video wasn’t bad enough, the reception photos sent the fanbase into full devastation mode.

• Aemond pulling you against him as he whispered something in your ear, smirking.

• Aemond with his hand on your thigh, looking at you like he wanted to devour you right then and there.

• Aemond lifting you up effortlessly as you laughed, his gaze dark with desire.

• Aemond kissing your knuckles, his silver hair falling over his face.

• Aemond dancing with you, his hands never straying from your waist.

At this point, some fangirls deactivated their accounts, some cried into their bedsheets, and some just stared at their phones in silence.

The Final Nail in the Coffin: Aemond’s Response to the Meltdown

Just when the internet was drowning in heartbreak, Aemond himself responded:

@AemondTargaryen: “She’s my wife. The rest of you don’t matter.” 😏💍

And with that, the delulu era officially ended.

When You And Aemond Posted About Your Pregnancy

Aemond’s fangirls were NOT prepared.

The second the post went up, all hell broke loose.

Aemond’s Instagram—usually filled with elegant aesthetics and cryptic captions—was now a battlefield of heartbreak, denial, and unhinged reactions.

The photo? Absolutely lethal.

Aemond stood behind you, his hand firmly cradling your noticeable baby bump, his lips pressed to the top of your head. His expression? Smug. Possessive. Triumphant. The next slide? An ultrasound.

The caption? Cold. Merciless. Pure Aemond.

“Blood of the dragon. Our legacy continues.”

And then—chaos.

“I’m not surviving this.”

“EXCUSE ME??? SHE’S PREGNANT??? WITH AEMOND’S CHILD??? THIS IS A NIGHTMARE.”

“This has to be fake. PLEASE tell me this is fake.”

“No. No. NO. He was supposed to marry me and name our son Vhagar II.”

“I can’t breathe. Someone send help.”

Some fangirls entered full denial mode:

“This is AI. Deepfake. Photoshop. CGI. I refuse to accept reality.”

“Maybe it’s for a role? A PR stunt? RIGHT? RIGHT???”

“Aemond Targaryen would never betray us like this.” (He absolutely would.)

Others… went completely off the rails:

“If I manifest hard enough, maybe the baby will have my DNA.”

“What if she lets me babysit? Just once? PLEASE?”

“I’m setting my phone on fire. I can’t do this.”

“I hope the baby knows their father was mine first.”

And the final, most heart-wrenching phase: acceptance.

“We lost, ladies. We fought hard, but we lost.”

“She won. She actually won.”

“We were delusional to think we had a chance. This is our downfall.”

Within minutes, #AemondBabyReveal was trending worldwide. The fan edits? Insane. The meltdowns? Unmatched. You had just broken the internet.

When You And Aemond Posted About Your Son Arrival.

The moment Aemond posted the photo—you lying in the hospital bed, exhausted but glowing, cradling your newborn son in your arms while Aemond kissed you with tears in his eye—social media shattered into chaos.

The Caption That Ended Them:

“My greatest battle, my greatest victory. He is here. And his mother… gods, his mother. My heart belongs to you, always.”

And just like that, Aemond’s fangirls and your fanboys collectively lost their will to live.

Instagram Comments Section: A Tragic Event

“Aemond… CRYING? Over HIS WIFE AND SON? No, I can’t handle this.” 😭💔

“Not him calling her ‘his greatest victory’ like she’s his whole world. Someone sedate me.”

“I JUST KNOW HE WORSHIPS HER. LOOK AT THE WAY HE’S KISSING HER.”

“My man is gone forever. Aemond has ascended to devoted husband & dad. We lost, ladies.”

“I should’ve left when they got engaged. Now they have a son?! Aemond Targaryen is someone’s actual husband and father? I AM UNWELL.”

Twitter/X Meltdown: A Digital Funeral

“Aemond Targaryen, the cold and ruthless prince, is now a loving husband and father? I need a minute.”

“HIM. CRYING. KISSING HER. HOLDING HIS SON. THIS IS TOO MUCH.”

“I thought the wedding was painful, but this baby announcement? I’m in ruins.”

“We are watching Aemond become the most obsessed husband and father in history. And we are powerless to stop it.”

“Aemond’s ‘battle and victory’ caption? That man is GONE. He belongs to his wife and son now.”

TikTok Reaction Videos: Fans Mourning Like It’s a Global Tragedy

One girl dramatically throwing her phone across the room: “I AM NOT OKAY.”

A fanboy in a hoodie, staring blankly at the screen: “First, she took him. Now, she gave him an heir. It’s over for us.”

A group of fangirls holding hands, fake crying: “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Aemond Targaryen to the world of marriage and fatherhood.”

Someone drinking straight from a wine bottle: “Not only did she win the war, she got a crown. She is the queen now.”

A TikTok edit of Aemond’s bad boy days transforming into husband & dad Aemond with the caption: “HIS PRIORITIES HAVE CHANGED. WE ARE NOTHING TO HIM NOW.”

The Final Blow: Aemond’s Response to the Fan Breakdown

As the internet spiraled into devastation, Aemond posted a short video clip—a black-and-white shot of him shirtless in the hospital chair, holding his newborn son against his chest, his silver hair slightly disheveled, his eye soft and full of awe. The camera then panned to you, resting with a tired smile, and Aemond reaching over to kiss your forehead.

@AemondTargaryen: “I never needed a kingdom. I only needed them.”

And just like that, his fangirls & your fanboys took their final breath.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

[kunareads]

and i bet it's even better than in my head

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

satoru's valentine's day present causes headlines.

prev

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 5k

this is the last part. i love them so much and they're so sweet and it only made sense to end it on valentine's day <3 <3

content: another awards show, tension, reader loves torturing satoru lol, fluff, SMUT!, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, nanami hating them, internet uproar. slight smau.

18+ please i block children <3

+++

music hums through the car’s speakers, low and familiar. anticipation simmers between you and satoru, the air warm and electric.

his fingers brush against your wrist as he fastens your bracelet, the touch lingering before trailing up to adjust the strap of your dress. the fabric catches the light, its shimmer matched to the shade of his jacket.

he leans in, looking you over. “good?”

you hum, smoothing his collar, fingers trailing along his jaw. a smudge of gloss lingers just below, and you wipe it away with your thumb.

“you should’ve left it,” he murmurs, teasing but not joking.

the car slows. camera flashes catch in the tinted windows, bright bursts against the dark. your gaze meets his, and for a moment, everything stills.

we’re really doing this.

your thumb sweeps over his cheek. “happy valentine’s day, satoru.”

he leans in to press a careful kiss to your lips. “happy valentine’s day, princess.”

the car door opens, and the energy shifts.

flashes explode, the carpet illuminated. the noise doubles—shouted questions, photographers calling your names, attention crackling in the air.

you’re used to this. so is satoru. but together, it’s more.

his hand finds the small of your back, a quiet claim, more instinct than intention. you both play to the cameras at first: the flash of his smile, the perfect turn of your head, a performance both of you know by heart.

then, when the moment is right, he leans down, his voice low and just for you. “you’re unreal.”

his lips brush your shoulder—nothing scandalous, just enough to set the cameras alight. then, with a slow step back, he gives you space, letting you take center stage.

and you do, tilting your head just enough, shifting so the light catches the glimmer of your dress, giving them exactly what they want.

even in the chaos, there’s the quiet undercurrent of his unwavering attention on you. you like the way he looks at you, like the rest of the world is background noise. you glance back, unable to help yourself. he doesn’t look away. doesn’t even pretend to.

his lips twitch, staring you dead in the eye like he knows something they don’t.

+++

the noise lingers past the carpet, a steady hum of excitement trailing you and satoru into the interview area. cameras roll, microphones extend toward you, and you barely have a second to adjust before a familiar voice cuts in.

nobara leans in, eyes glinting. “you arrived together, in matching outfits, and satoru literally kissed your shoulder on the carpet—should we be reading into this?”

you blink, glancing down at your outfit, then at him. “wait, we match?”

satoru scoffs, shaking his head. “she copied me.”

you nudge him lightly, and nobara snickers. “so, are you two celebrating valentine’s day together?”

satoru’s smile tugs wider as he glances at you. “i’d say this is a pretty solid start.”

nobara shifts, tilting the microphone toward you. “and you’re performing tonight! what can we expect?”

your eyes flick to satoru before you answer. “something new.”

her head tilts. “wait, like, never-heard-before new?”

satoru’s head jerks toward you. “wait, actually?”

“you really didn’t know?” nobara asks, brows lifting.

you shrug, feigning innocence. “he loves surprises.”

satoru blinks, processing. then his eyes narrow. “do i?”

nobara just laughs, moving on, but you’ve planted your seed.

by the time you make it past the press line, the internet is already in flames.

@/ynupdates: THE WAY SHE SAID ‘HE LOVES SURPRISES’ AND HE JUST STARED AT HER LIKE ??? DO I ???

@/fulltimeshipper: the way satoru got bamboozled on that carpet and just rolled with it. like okay sir go get your life rocked i guess

@/satorusimplicity: not she’s giving him a valentine’s day present in the form of a mystery performance……… let’s pray

the night moves in flashes—satoru’s laughter in your ear, the warmth of his hand warm on your thigh, champagne bubbles fizzing against your lips.

the ceremony blurs past in speeches, applause, and stolen glances. each time you turn to him, he’s already watching, eyes gleaming, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

just before you head backstage, he leans in close. “should i be nervous?”

you just smirk, trailing your fingers along the lapel of his jacket before kissing his cheek and slipping away.

your outfit is something stolen from the past, romantic and undone. lace and silk hug you, sheer in places meant to tease.

beyond the curtain, the crowd murmurs, rising into cheers as your name is announced. onstage, warm golden light pools across deep red velvet, roses scattered like remnants of a perfect night.

the first note hums in your ear. the moment the stage manager signals, you step into the light.

you sink into a velvet lounge chair, crossing your legs, leaning in like you’re telling a secret.

i was in a sheer dress, the day that we met we were both in a rush, we talked for a sec

the music carries over the room, curling like smoke. your gaze drifts the crowd, landing on him.

satoru is grinning. at first. you keep singing.

then his chest rises on a slow inhale. realization flickers in his eyes. you see the exact moment he puts it together.

oh.

you sit up, fingers grazing the rim of the glass beside you, lifting it slowly. the next lines slip from your lips, smooth as silk.

who’s the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm? like i know it sound a bit redundant but i bet we’d have really good bed chem

the camera follows your gaze, panning to him.

he leans forward, eyes locked on you, blinking like he’s processing the fact that you are, in fact, doing this to him on live television. he shakes his head, smiling like can’t believe you—entertained, stunned, and completely enamored.

you bend down, fingers ghosting a red rose before plucking it from the stage. soft petals brush against your skin as you stand and start walking.

the audience stirs. your voice is lower now, sweeter.

and i bet we’d both arrive at the same time

satoru tilts his head slightly, watching you approach.

and i bet the thermostat’s set at six-nine

you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. as you pass, you set the rose down on his table, fingers trailing across his shoulders like an afterthought.

and i bet it’s even better than in my head

the cameras catch everything—his sharp inhale, the way his fingers twitch against his thigh, the way his tongue presses against his cheek like he just took a hit he wasn’t prepared for.

the beat shifts back in as you slip toward center stage. just before you turn away completely, you look straight at him.

how you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round, oh, it just makes sense how you talk so sweet when you’re doin’ bad things that’s bed chem

satoru doesn’t even try to play it cool. he’s staring, lips parted, one hand braced against the table, like he needs to ground himself.

the crowd roars as the song melts into its final note, and you just smile, letting the music fade out around you as the stage lights dim.

and in the audience, satoru exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

beyond the stage, beyond the cameras, the performance hits like a shockwave.

@/chaoticgood: why am i being seduced rn??????

@/ynenergy: SHE WALKED RIGHT PAST HIM LIKE HE WAS JUST ANOTHER MAN. I WOULD NOT SURVIVE THIS

@/satorusbraincell: SATORU BLINK TWICE IF YOU’RE IN DISTRESS

@/ynsleftknee: spending my valentine’s day watching this lady seduce her man on national tv…

+++

it’s been a week since you last saw each other. too long.

you don’t notice him at first.

satoru leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as your team moves around you—adjusting, blending, spraying.

you reach for your lipstick last, leaning close to the mirror, swiping on the deep red shade in smooth, practiced strokes.

he still doesn’t announce himself—just waits, tracking your every move. the way you press your lips together, checking the color. the satisfied tilt of your chin.

then you see movement at the edge of the mirror. broad shoulders, white hair, blue eyes locked on you.

excitement surges so fast you nearly send a jar of brushes flying.

you run. satoru barely has time to react before you throw yourself into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. he catches you easily, laughing as he stumbles back a step. “miss me?”

you nod, pressing your face into his neck. “obviously.”

you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. just enough for your lips to brush his neck, leaving a smudge of red against his skin.

you blink at the mark. then, slowly, you grin.

satoru narrows his eyes. “what?”

you slide from his hold, grabbing his hands, guiding him toward the dressing room chair.

“sit.”

he obeys, dropping into the seat, letting you climb into his lap. his eyes glimmer—amusement, intrigue, a little bit of trouble—as you twist the lipstick open and lean in.

a kiss beneath his jaw.

then another.

and another.

by the time you reach his collarbone, the collar of his shirt is a disaster—smudges of red staining the crisp white fabric, a masterpiece of your making. you sit up, admiring your work, before reapplying.

satoru huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “kento’s gonna be pissed.”

“looks hot,” you say, grinning. “hold still.”

your fingers trail down, making quick work of the buttons, pushing his shirt open. his breathing stutters, but he doesn’t stop you. he just watches, eyes dark, waiting.

then your lips are on him again, finding his chest, his shoulders, moving lower, leaving traces of red like a brand. your lips trace the hard lines of his stomach, pressing deeper, leaving proof.

he exhales sharply, head tipping back. by the time you’re done, he’s covered—his throat, his chest, the dips of his abs, all ruined.

you press one last kiss to his jaw, and satoru groans, head dropping forward. “if you keep going, we’re not making it to set.”

you tilt your head, feigning consideration. then, deliberately, you hover over his mouth.

the air tightens—waiting, waiting—

“fuck it.”

the chair scrapes back as he moves. you find yourself on the vanity, legs spread, satoru between them.

his mouth finds your throat immediately, open and hungry.

you laugh, breath hitching as his lips drag lower, hands pushing up your robe, fingers skimming bare skin. something clatters to the floor.

“you’re making a mess,” you murmur, exhaling sharply as his teeth scrape your collarbone.

he laughs against your skin, voice rough. “i’m making a mess?”

his lips find the top of your chest, the dip above your ribs, hands pushing your thighs further apart—

a loud sigh.

a very loud, very familiar sigh.

you freeze. so does satoru, lips still parted against your skin.

slowly, he lifts his head, shielding you as he closes your robe.

in the doorway, kento nanami stands—arms crossed, unimpressed.

his gaze travels from satoru’s face, to his lipstick-stained shirt, to his lipstick-stained body.

a beat.

“no.”

you look at satoru. satoru looks at you.

then, at the same time: “too late.”

kento pinches the bridge of his nose.

satoru grins, shameless. “what? it’s the look.”

+++

the set glows under golden lighting, everything draped in a hazy warmth. the camera is rolling, the crew watching from just beyond the lights. you sit at a bar, idly tracing the rim of a glass, your gaze flicking just past the camera as the intro to your song plays through the set speakers.

kento’s direction is simple: untouched, untouchable, alluring. you make it look effortless.

right on cue, satoru moves into the frame. his presence shifts the energy instantly, like a static charge through the air.

he glides in behind you, his reflection catching in the mirrored bar shelves. a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened like he’s already been up to something.

he doesn’t touch you. just leans in like the script tells him to. but instead of playing his role, he uses it. “if kento wasn’t burning a hole through my skull,” he murmurs, just for you, “i’d have my hand up your skirt already.”

your breath catches, barely noticeable, but satoru feels it.

you don’t react. at least, not the way he wants you to. instead, you follow the script, smirking slow and knowing, like you saw this coming a mile away.

off-camera, an exasperated sigh cuts through the moment.

“good, keep that smirk. satoru, shut up.”

kento’s voice is flat, like he’s aged a decade in the past thirty seconds.

satoru grins. he doesn’t even pretend to be sorry. you press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh.

+++

the elevator doors glide shut, sealing the three of you in. cameras are rolling.

dim lighting casts soft shadows across the walls. reflective panels make the space feel tighter. the script’s notes flicker through your mind: anticipation, restraint, tension.

kento doesn’t wait. “this is about restraint. no touching.”

satoru leans against the back wall, hands in his pockets. relaxed on the surface. his tongue skims his teeth, jaw shifting, gaze fixed on you like a challenge.

you say nothing. you just press the top floor button, hovering over the emergency stop in faux consideration.

a scripted pause.

satoru shifts, unhurried. he doesn’t touch you—technically. but you hear his inhale, like he’s fighting an urge. he takes a step closer, crowding your space. you feel the heat of him behind you.

“define touching,” he says with a smirk.

the words skim down your spine, and you react before you can help it, you shift, taking an almost invisible inhale, your lips parting slightly.

kento’s jaw sets. “i will physically remove you.”

+++

the suite set is dimly lit, soft and gold with faux city lights filtering through the windows.

satoru reclines against the headboard, white shirt undone, boxers riding low on his hips. evidence of your earlier antics lingers—lipstick scattered on him like a map of everywhere you’ve been.

you straddle him, hovering, silk lingerie catching the light. the scene is simple: seduction in motion.

you lean in, your lips brushing the red-stained curve of his throat. a deliberate tease. then, so subtle only he can feel it, you roll your hips.

satoru’s breath stutters, but outwardly, he doesn’t react. not for the cameras. his hands twitch against the sheets, jaw tightening.

then, so low that only you can hear it:

“keep doing that, and i’ll give the cameras something real to shoot.”

your lips curve. his hands remain at his sides, but you can feel the restraint humming under his skin.

you tilt your head slightly, gaze flickering to his hands, daring him.

you shift again. just for him. a breath catches—his, not yours. his jaw tightens.

and then, to no one’s surprise, he caves.

his hands slide up your thighs, fingers spreading against your waist, pulling you closer.

“CUT.”

kento’s voice slices through the haze.

satoru exhales, tilting his head back against the headboard. his grip tightens for just a second before he lets go, dragging his hands back to his sides.

kento steps forward, frustration palpable. “too much hands.”

satoru hums. “disagree.”

you smirk, tilting your head. “i think it’s fine.”

+++

the moment the door clicks shut behind kento, the studio crew finally gone, satoru exhales sharply, like he’s been holding it in all night.

you stand by a mirror, adjusting the lace of your lingerie, fixing your makeup. poised, untouched.

across the room, satoru is a wrecked contrast—lipstick-stained, his open shirt hanging off his shoulders, boxers slung low on his hips. he looks like something you ruined, something you can ruin again.

he drags his gaze over you, indulgent. the soft fabric clings to your skin, shifting as you move. he watches the steady movement of your breaths, the way you subtly adjust your posture. you’re perfect.

you meet his eyes in the mirror, tilting your head. “you enjoyed that a little too much, huh?”

his grin is sharp, dangerous. “you have no fucking idea.”

you take a slow step back, just to see if he follows. you expect a chase.

he’s on you in seconds.

he catches your waist, guiding you back until the bed catches you. the second your back hits the sheets, he’s there—pressing you down, lips crashing into yours, swallowing the gasp that slips free. his tongue sweeps against yours, greedy and unrelenting, like he’s making up for every second he had to hold back on set.

his hands slide down, rough, impatient, gripping the backs of your thighs. your panties are gone in a single motion. his body is flush against you, hips pressing into yours, the heat unbearable.

he bites your bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, murmuring, “such a tease.”

his hands slip beneath the silk, dragging over the curve of your waist, his fingers pressing into soft skin. his lips follow—jaw to throat to collarbone, warm and open-mouthed. his teeth scrape lightly and you arch, fingers twisting into his hair.

he groans when you tug, pressing his hips down into yours, letting you feel how hard he is, how much he wants you. his mouth moves lower, down to the swell of your breasts, sucking a mark right above your heart.

his fingers slide further down, grazing heat, and he exhales sharply, like it’s confirmation of what he already knew.

“fuck,” he groans, pressing a kiss just above your navel, voice wrecked. “already soaked for me.”

you suck in a breath, fingers threading into his snowy hair, guiding him lower.

he chuckles, breath hot against your skin. “desperate?”

you roll your eyes, and he just grins.

you squirm beneath him, already impatient, aching, but satoru just keeps doing what he’s doing. he loves this—loves teasing, loves making you wait, loves knowing how much you want him.

he kisses higher, right by where you need him most, but doesn’t give in yet. instead, he exhales, sending cool air against your heat, watching your body react.

“missed this,” he murmurs. “missed you.”

“missed you too, ‘toru,” you breathe, nails scraping against his scalp.

he hums at that, pressing another kiss just above your clit, lips lingering.

then, finally, he licks a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds. your back arches, legs tensing over his shoulders, and he groans at your reaction, at how needy you already are for him.

he takes his time, tongue dragging through your slick, slow and unhurried, savoring the way you writhe. you buck against his mouth, chasing friction, but a strong hand moves over your pelvis, holding you down.

“let me enjoy this,” he mutters against you, voice thick with amusement. “made me suffer all fucking day.”

he sucks at your clit, just enough to make you whimper, to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. your head falls back, breath breaking into shaky gasps. he’s not rushing—he’s just working you open, licking into you slowly, precisely, making sure you feel it.

satoru loves every noise you make. he’s been hooked since the first time you came apart for him. so when you moan, unrestrained, he chuckles, breath hot against your slick skin. “there she is,” he murmurs, smiling as he pushes your legs up, exposing more of you. “give me another one.”

his tongue curls inside you, deep and slow, unraveling you. his hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you spread, keeping you from running from the pleasure.

you whine, thighs shaking, fingers slipping from his hair to clutch the sheets. your body feels stretched thin, heat pooling deep, tension winding so tight it nearly hurts.

“satoru—” your voice breaks, high, desperate.

he hums against you, the vibration sinking into you. “yeah, baby?” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to watch you squirm before diving in again.

you whimper, chasing every flick of his tongue, every press of his mouth, your body arching off the bed, desperate for more.

he just grins, watching you struggle, taking his time.

then, suddenly, the pleasure spikes—his tongue curling just right, lips sucking slow and deep, dragging you under.

“oh my god—” your breath stutters, body locking up as your orgasm slams into you, sudden and consuming.

he doesn’t stop. he works you through it, dragging out every last wave, groaning against you and loving the way you fall apart for him. when your body finally shudders, oversensitive, he pulls back, lips slick, pupils blown.

it’s not enough.

your chest rises, unsteady, but the need doesn’t fade. it only deepens, twisting into something hungrier.

you reach for him, tugging him up by the shoulders, nails raking down his back.

he leans over you and grins down, smug and satisfied. “that was a big one,” he teases. “you look so fucking pretty when you cum.”

you don’t think. the word just slips out, breathless, desperate. “please.”

his grin against your jaw is slow, wicked, teasing. but he doesn’t move. "please, what?"

you shift beneath him, thighs squeezing around his hips, trying to pull him closer. but he stays firm, hovering over you.

you feel his bulge against you, his boxers getting covered in your slick. the friction drives you crazy.

“use your words, princess,” he murmurs, lips brushing your throat, sucking lightly. “tell me what you need.”

“satoru—” you whine, back arching, but he just leans back, pushing his boxers down enough to free himself. he lines the tip up against your entrance and stops.

his smirk is slow, easy. “that’s not an answer.”

he rolls his hips, just enough to tease, just enough to make you gasp—then pulls away again.

you whimper, frustration curling through every nerve, every inch of you aching for more. “need you,” you gasp, pulling his hands to your waist, desperate to feel his weight again.

he groans, hips stuttering before he steadies himself. “need me to do what?” his voice is still teasing, but his breathing is heavier now.

he leans down, face-to-face with you. your fingers twist in his hair, nails pressing into his scalp. "need you to fuck me," you breathe, leaving small kisses and licks along his jaw.

his grin sharpens like you just gave him exactly what he wanted. “see?” he purrs, scraping his teeth over your collarbone. "that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

"sa—"

"say it again," he murmurs, pressing the tip inside, just barely, before pulling back.

frustration coils tight, unbearable. “fuck me,” you gasp, hips lifting, chasing him. "satoru, please—"

that does it.

his smirk vanishes, his jaw going tight. "fuck—"

his hands grip your thighs, opening them wider.

then, finally, he pushes in, stretching you open with one slow, unrelenting thrust.

a strangled moan rips from your throat, your body arching as he fills you completely.

he groans, pressing his lips to your cheek first, then the top of your head.

"that’s my girl."

his name is a breathless moan on your lips, barely holding its shape as pulls back and sinks into you again, stretching you open until he’s buried to the hilt. your thighs tighten around his waist, locking him in place like you could keep him there forever.

his breath shudders, forehead pressing to yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other fisting the sheets. he’s already falling apart, his voice a rasp against your lips.

“fuck—so wet, so perfect.”

his words barely register over the rush in your ears, the desperate, needy way your body clenches around him, still sensitive and needy. every inch of him makes you tremble, every movement leaves you gasping. it’s still not enough.

“more.” it slips out, broken, pleading.

he groans, fingers flexing against your hip, keeping you pinned. “you’re fucking insatiable,” he mutters, but he’s just as bad. his next thrust is harder, deeper, pushing you into the mattress, forcing another gasp from your lips.

he swears under his breath, shifting one of your legs higher, draping it over his shoulder, angling himself even deeper. the change has you crying out, your body jolting, nails dragging down his back.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans, voice thick, drinking in every gasp, every broken moan. “lemme hear you.”

he sets a rhythm, slow at first, savoring it—each thrust deliberate, pushing you closer, making your breath stutter, your mind go blank. but it’s not enough, not for either of you.

his grip tightens, his pace quickening. the bed creaks beneath you, the air thick—heat, friction, the obscene slap of skin on skin, the desperate, breathless sounds spilling from your lips.

he tilts his head, voice dipping low, rough, commanding. it’s not something you get to hear often. “open your mouth.”

you don’t even think, just obey—lips parting, chin tilting, waiting. his thumb drags across your bottom lip, smearing your lipstick before he spits, watching your tongue flick out to catch it.

you swallow without hesitation. he twitches inside you at the sight, hips jerking forward, thrusting deeper, rougher.

“good fucking girl,” he groans, voice wrecked, pressing his forehead to yours.

his lips trail down your throat, sucking, biting, marking. he loses himself in the rhythm, hips snapping into you, pulling out just to drive back in harder, deeper. “you take me so fucking well every time.”

your body tightens around him, desperate, clinging. your nails rake down his back, your hips lifting to meet him, to take more. you can never get enough of him.

he leans back slightly, gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider. his gaze drops between you, watching himself disappear into you, watching the way you take him.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. “so fucking pretty like this.”

“you like watching?” you tease, but your voice is weak, wrecked.

he groans, grinding into you, making you moan, making you shake. “love watching you fall apart for me,” he mutters, before leaning in, kissing you deep and swallowing your gasps.

the bed creaks louder, the rhythm unraveling into something more frantic, more desperate. your body arches beneath him, his name a choked moan against his lips. he feels it—feels the way your walls flex around him, feels the way you shake, the way you’re already there, teetering, about to fall.

his lips brush against yours, voice low, coaxing. “give it to me.”

and you shatter.

your body bows, fingers digging into his shoulders, his name breaking from your lips repeatedly as your orgasm slams through you, hard, sudden, and overwhelming. your walls pulse around him, dragging him down with you.

his thrusts falter, his grip on your thighs tightening. he moans, deep and wrecked, pressing in as deep as he can go as he spills inside you. his forehead drops to yours, both of you panting, skin slick, bodies tangled in the aftershock.

you stay there for a moment until he pulls out, sliding down onto the mattress and pulling you into him. he searches your face, fingers swiping over your spine.

“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft with exhaustion.

you nod, still catching your breath. your fingers thread lazily into his hair, smoothing it back as he exhales against your skin. he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. his voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“let’s go home.”

+++

it’s been two weeks since the music video was filmed. it’s releasing today, and you opted to stay home with satoru for it.

you and satoru are sprawled across the couch in your apartment, the tv murmuring in the background. satoru’s head is in your lap, his arm draped lazily over your thighs, scrolling on his phone. your fingers move absently through his hair, but when you check your notifications, you go still.

"oh, shit."

satoru hums without looking up. “hmm?”

"it’s bad."

his brows lift slightly, but his attention stays on his phone. "define bad."

you hesitate, staring at the screen like it might change if you blink enough times. "i think the internet is broken."

that gets his attention. he shifts, craning his neck to glance at your phone.

"jesus christ."

the tweets are relentless.

@/stanwars: WHY DOES IT FEEL ILLEGAL TO WATCH THIS FOR FREE

@/ynsays: i need to study them under a microscope

@/fathergojo: she wrote this horny ass song about him and then made him ACT IT OUT like a VILLAIN.

@/touchgrasscommittee: kento nanami has seen things he can never unsee. he is never working with them again

the headlines aren’t much better.

Rolling Stone: Y/N’s ‘Bed Chem’ Music Video Redefines Intimacy on Screen

Elle: Y/N’s New Music Video: Cinematic Excellence or Just an Excuse to Make Out?

PopBuzz: The Internet Is in Mourning Because Satoru Gojo Is Officially Taken

you scroll further. “oh, wow.”

satoru shifts, eyes narrowing at the way your expression tightens. "what now?"

you open your group chat.

satoru snorts, scrolling further. "oh my god, look at this tiktok."

the screen shows a fake behind-the-scenes clip of nanami sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose as you and satoru get a little too close on set.

another video cuts to a montage of satoru looking way too into it, captioned this man forgot the cameras were rolling.

another shows a person sipping tea with shaking hands, wrapped in a blanket, sunglasses on, looking like they’ve been through a war.

satoru pouts. “they’re making things up. i was fine during filming.”

you press play on a slowed-down clip of him gripping your thighs, head falling back as you kiss his throat.

"oh, totally," you say, watching the clip, lips twitching. "you were super composed."

his expression shifts immediately. "i don’t like this game anymore."

grinning, you scroll. "oh, wait, they slowed down this part too—"

suddenly, satoru snatches your phone and tosses it onto the other side of the couch.

"okay," he declares, pinning you against the cushions, smirking down at you. "that’s enough of that."

"hey—"

"since we’re dissecting things," he muses, eyes glinting, "let’s talk about your expressions during filming."

you laugh, squirming beneath him. "oh my god, get off me."

his smirk deepens, fingers curling around your wrist, his breath ghosting against your skin. "nah," he says, eyes dark and playful as he leans in, "i think i need to rewatch the footage. for, uh…research. live commentary this time."

you shove at his shoulder, laughing. "satoru—"

but he’s already reaching for the remote.

tags: @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[siriusblackdevotee]

unashamed to be the n1 Black family dickrider😔 whoever you ship any of the Blacks with, they must be completely obsessed, otherwise you're just wrong💔

Rodolophus is the man of the family, that's how he was raised and bred to believe and act, he should have all the power except the moment Bellatrix prettily demands (because she doesn't ask) something, he goes weak in the knees and goes to fulfill her demands, no questions asked. He behaves like all patriarchal heads of the family but he has never successfully been able to say no to her.

Ted Tonks, without meaning to, became Andromeda's stalker because he didn't have the guts as an average man to go up to a beautiful woman like her and even talk to her. It took him about three years of just pining quietly and admiring her beauty secretly for him to gather the courage and just, greet her, and that was before he managed to even look her in the eyes.

Lucius has his masters degree or whatever the equivalent is in the wizarding world, he earned business deals that grew his already existing wealth, he has influence that can shake the ministry but none of those achievements compare to getting Narcissa to accept his marriage proposal. Their marriage certificate is literally hung on their main walls in expensive silver frames and protection charms all over it.

Sirius mostly keeps to himself and his small circle of friends, constantly has a resting bitch face, is clipped and rude to anyone he doesn't have patience for, has a well known dark history of being in fights and assaults and yet, he's still considered a beloved sweetheart, the most sought out bachelor. Whoever is shipped with him, honestly good luck because they'd have to fight against literally everyone just for 5 seconds of his attention. And then once they do have his attention, nothing would give them that same high.

Regulus is slightly more reachable compared to the rest of his family but his introverted self is even worse than Sirius. Despite never being known to have close friends or rarely seen in public, basically nothing of him being public knowledge, he still has heads turning whenever he enters a room, like he has influence and power even though he really shouldn't. Whoever is shipped with him, again good luck trying to seduce a guy that can easily become the main attraction just from entering a room.

Could go back a generation. You cannot convince me that Lucretia, Walburga, Orion, Alphard and Cygnus did not have the wizarding world on a chokehold because of their beauty, power, influence or all three. It's just a fact that Walburga and Cygnus get away with their awful personality, like Sirius, simply because they're that powerful or beautiful.

[graciedollie]

Hiiiii, just wanted to let you know: I love your stories and your aesthetic! Could you do a Caitlyn kiramman fluff?

Dating Caitlyn Kirammin Headcannons (Fluff)

warnings: none, just pure fluff, mention of Cassandra Kirammin :(

a/n: i could not come up with a fic sooo we’re doing hc’s and i hope that’s fine bby💔 BUT ITLL STILL HAVE FLUFF OFC!!

she’s a sweetheart tbh, despite having her rough moments.

While she may also be leading towards words of affirmation, she also does acts of service and gift giving. She love to express the love she embodies for you through her words and actions, absolutely spoiling you with gifts, doing stuff for you without even asking, and giving you gifts <3

“Oh—Cait, baby. you didn’t have to get me this!” You joked as you took the basket that was filled with things that you’ve had your eye on, but didn’t wanna seem like you were asking for much.

“Nonsense, love. You know i’ll get you whatever you need and want…you mean the world to me and I want you to be happy..” Her slender hand caressed your cheek gently as her warm smile tugged at her lips, looking at you with the most tenderly gaze you ever saw.

now you’re dating a literal sheriff atp and you already know she’s gonna be protective of you. She’ll wrap an arm around your waist or have her hand on the lower of your back or if she can’t be around you like she wants, she’ll have eyes of her own to make sure you’re safe. She’ll give someone a mean glare if they look or talk to you sideways and would snark back at them curtly.

“Sweetie, you didn’t have to tell her all that stuff—all she did was just bump into me.”

“And she didn’t even apologize and only gave you that…that nasty look? Is that really not ‘nothing’?” She was practically seething as she kept glaring at the woman before you pretty much had to make her focus back on you and not let the moment get ruined.

she’s not too big on pda, but there are times she’ll give you a peck on the cheek or hold your hands tightly in hers and even kiss your hand like the gentlewoman she is. If you’re a touchy person, then she may ask you to turn it down just a notch, but she’ll only get upset whenever she’s already overstimulated and doesn’t want you touching and she needs her space.

definitely more of a cat person than a dog person tbh and you both have this pretty cat you found on the street and named it ‘cheesecake’. (she thought it was a ridiculous name but she grew to tolerate it)

“Out of all names—‘Cheesecake’? Honey, I don’t know..” She murmured lowly as she petted the purring cat in her lap, smiling warmly as Cheesecake gave her a couple licks to the cheek.

You rolled your eyes with a small scoff leaving your lips, thinking that she was just being bland and not very flavorful with the name. “oh c’mon! she looks like a little cheesecake!” Caitlyn gave you a look before looking down at Cheesecake before sighing softly, “If you insist, love.”

there are times when she’ll come home from work frustrated and overstimulated and would have panic attacks here and there—almost really being regular, at this point. During these times, she just wants to be alone, but she doesn’t at the same time and needs you by her side.

“I don’t know how I could do this…it’s like, the hole is only getting bigger and bigger..” she’d whispered shakily as she leaned against your chest, letting you hold her close as she would sob. Times been utterly awful since…the incident with her mother. You stayed by her side at all times and tried your best to comfort her, but nothing could ever fill that hole.

You sighed lowly as you rubbed her back, letting her getting everything out with the salty tears and hurtful words. it pained you that she had to go through this, especially since she pretty much blamed herself for not taking the shot and preventing this from happening. “I know I can’t say I know or I understand, love, but i’m always here with you…always.”

honestly a pretty good cook. Like, i’m sure she had people to cook for her and all, but she knows how to throw down in the kitchen—especially in baking.

“Cait? I’m home!” You called to her as you shut the front door behind you, setting your bag down on the hook before shuffling your way in the empty space. Your brows raised in suspicion at the silence before your eyes widened at the sight before you as you entered the kitchen.

There laid the delicious pastry that you’ve been dreaming and dreaming about for a while now, mentioning it to Caitlyn here and there—not thinking much of it. You stepped closer to see there was a pretty note left on the side that read; “figured you’d like these, love. I’ll be home late, i love you most—love, Cait.”

certified yapper. once she gets so engrossed in something that itches her brain, she will talk your head off.

There you sat there, nodding at your girlfriend as she continued to ramble on and on about the new case she’s been working on. She stood tall to the crowded board with her arms crossed, brows furrowed together and teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

“I just don’t understand, if it’s not in this location, what other place could we be missing? itonlymakesensetogototheotherdirectionbutyettheresotherwaystogobutitdoesntmakeanysense—are you listening?”

you bet your sweet ass you were. every. last. bit.

hope you enjoyed this bby!! <3

[dapper-lil-arts]

Explain in extreme detail why you love Sunset Shimmer

You just poked a bear lol

So here's the damn thing. A lot of bad guys in this show have underdeveloped or basic-ass backstories. Its not always an issue, sometimes it doesn't mess with anything. But Sunset being the first pupil of Celestia immediately raises an eyebrow, immediately calls to attention how she must have had a much more different role in the background, and ages imply that she would have been very young as a pupil of Celestia. Good times.

From that, just that little smidge of concept, you can already consider so many possibilities with this character. Making her being an antagonist that was beaten down and then redeemed is one thing thats already done and fun enough. But she actually joins the main cast of her show, she has to work for it, there's a period where she's hated and shunned, where she has to crawl on her hands and knees to earn her damn place in the light of good

So when she's actively a part of the group and is the catalyst to their victory, literally ASCENDING TO HELP, she proves to everyone just how far she's changed and blows the villans away.fantastic.

And then its not even done there! She keeps growing, keeps improving, becomes a LEADER, A GENUINE LEADER of the mane 5, and then manages to become a goddamn friendship seraphim

AND WITH THIS NEWFOUND POWER SHE USES IT TO ACTIVELY HELP SOMEONE THAT LOST HER WAY, JUST LIKE IT WAS ONCE DONE FOR HER

Hers is one of the most engaging and fun 'redemption arcs' ive ever had the pleasure of witnessing, and of the entire show, I think its the best one, tbh.

It's just impecably entertaining how in the movies, comics, specials, she is always burdened by loss. She has multiple times lost everything, and even then, she makes her way back. she tries to become better, to improve herself, to grow. All of these things make her a character that is endlessly full of potential for creating more stories and developing even further. The canon does a lot right, and yet leaves even more space to develop, such as her relationship with celestia, the potential of what she does after, whether ts in equestria or in the human world, and how far she can go to save those she cares about n stuff.

She comes back! The sun alegory is fantastic, the phoenix allegory is incredible, she's the immortal Sunset Shimmer, and I fucking love that for her. Also I like it when she and twilight fuck nasty. Doesn't matter which one lol

[hisfavegirl]

Jacaerys Velaryon As Your Soulmate.

Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for letting me use your beautiful dividers 🫶🏻

When He Propose To You.

The moment was so perfect it felt unreal. The Santorini sunset painted the sky in hues of gold, pink, and deep orange, casting a glow over the endless blue of the Aegean Sea. The soft breeze carried the scent of salt and summer, and the sound of the waves crashing below only made everything more surreal.

Jace had been acting a little off all day—nervous, fidgety, but still smiling like he always did when he looked at you. And then, as you stood together on the private balcony of your villa, overlooking the breathtaking view, he suddenly dropped to one knee.

Your heart stopped.

For a second, it felt like the entire world went silent.

Jace was staring up at you, his eyes filled with so much love it almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for so damn long, I don’t even remember what life was like before you. And I don’t want to. I want you forever. Will you marry me?”

Your hands flew to your mouth, eyes already burning with tears. Your heart was pounding, your breath caught in your throat, and the moment felt so overwhelmingly perfect that for a split second, you couldn’t even speak.

Then you nodded frantically, laughing through your tears.

“Yes! Jace, yes!”

The second the words left your lips, he slipped the ring onto your finger—a stunning diamond that sparkled like the damn Santorini sky—before pulling you into his arms, spinning you around as you laughed and cried at the same time.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured against your lips, grinning like a lovesick fool.

“I’ve always been stuck with you,” you whispered back, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

And just like that, under the Santorini sunset, with the waves and the wind as your witnesses, you said yes to forever.

When You And Jace Posted The Announcement Of Your Engagement.

The internet broke.

The moment you and Jace posted the engagement photo—a breathtaking shot of you two in the crystal-clear waters of Santorini—the reactions were instantaneous.

The image was perfectly intimate: Jace, half-submerged in the water, his toned arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, pressing a deep, possessive kiss to your lips. The sunlight reflected off the ocean, making the stunning diamond ring on your finger gleam as you lifted your hand, subtly flexing your fingers in a way that made it impossible to miss.

The caption?

“Forever with him. ☀️💍”

Jace’s post?

“She said yes. My girl, my future, my forever. 💙”

And just like that, chaos erupted.

Jace’s fangirls:

"NOOOOOOOO THIS ISN’T HAPPENING"

"I WAS LITERALLY MANIFESTING MY TURN WTF"

"DOES ANYONE KNOW IF THE SANTORINI OCEAN IS ACCEPTING DROWNED TEARS?"

"HE WAS SUPPOSED TO MARRY ME??"

"DELETE THIS I CAN’T BREATHE"

"'My girl, my future, my forever' YEAH JUST KILL ME THEN"

Your fanboys:

"BRO SHE’S GONE. IT’S OVER FOR US."

"This is pain. Real pain."

"Jace, let’s talk. I just wanna chat. loads shotgun"

"Do y’all think we still have a chance if she loses the ring in the ocean???"

"SHE WAS OUR QUEEN, NOW SHE’S HIS WIFE. WE HAVE NOTHING LEFT."

"Fellas, we lost a soldier today."

Random internet reactions:

"The way she’s flexing that ring while kissing him, she WANTED us to suffer."

"Jace bagged the baddest and made sure we all KNEW it. Respect."

"This is the equivalent of a public execution."

"Santorini tourism just skyrocketed bc everyone’s gonna go cry in the ocean now."

"The way he’s holding her? That man is NEVER letting go."

"This is some movie-level romance, wtf I’m so jealous."

Meanwhile, Jace? Smug as hell. The second the internet started melting down, he was in the comments, liking the most dramatic ones and posting another photo of him holding your hand, the ring on full display, with the caption:

“No refunds, no exchanges. She’s mine now. 💍😎”

And if that wasn’t enough? He posted a story of you two laughing in the Santorini sunset, him kissing your neck before murmuring:

“Sorry, guys. She picked me.”

The internet never recovered.

Jace Family Reaction To Your Engagement Announcement.

The Velaryons and Targaryens had very different reactions, but one thing was clear—they did not see this coming.

Rhaenyra (His Mother):

💬 “My son… engaged? I blinked and he was just a boy. Now he’s posting thirst traps and proposing in Santorini? Time flies…”

—Cue her immediately calling Jace, demanding details, and planning an extravagant wedding before you even had a chance to process everything.

Daemon (His Step-Father):

💬 “Took you long enough, boy. Thought I’d have to lock you two in a room until you figured it out.”

—He acts casual, but he’s secretly proud and already threatening Jace to never mess this up.

Baela & Rhaena (His Step-Sisters):

💬 Baela: “JACE. YOU DIDN’T TELL US YOU WERE PROPOSING?!”

💬 Rhaena: “Omg, she said yes?? Of course she did, but still!!”

—Both of them are spamming your phone demanding pictures of the ring, the moment, and every single detail.

Lucerys (His Younger Brother):

💬 “Wait… does this mean I have to call you my sister now?”

—He’s genuinely confused but happy, liking the post and commenting “Congrats, I guess.”

Aegon (His Uncle & Frenemy):

💬 “Bro, what the actual fuck? You got engaged before me? Oh, this is WAR.”

—Petty. Bitter. Fake mad but lowkey proud. He’ll NEVER admit it, though.

Aemond (His Other Uncle & Rival):

💬 “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

—Says this like he isn’t internally SHOCKED that Jace actually locked it down. He liked the post, but only because Helaena forced him.

Helaena (His Sweet Aunt):

💬 “This is wonderful! You both look so happy! 💙”

—Genuinely happy for you two, immediately asking if she can help plan anything.

Corlys & Rhaenys (His Grandparents):

💬 Corlys: “She’s family now. Make sure you treat her like a Velaryon.”

💬 Rhaenys: “It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for this.”

—They’re quietly pleased, but already discussing wedding venues and guest lists behind your backs.

Meanwhile, Jace?

He’s just grinning at his phone, watching the chaos unfold while pulling you into his lap, whispering:

“Guess there’s no turning back now, huh?” 😏

When You And Jace Posted Your Wedding Video On Internet.

The second the wedding video dropped—Jace walking out of the church, hand in hand with you, his smile so bright it could blind the sun—his fangirls lost their minds.

Jace Velaryon, the golden boy, the sweetheart, the man who had fangirls swooning over his every move, was officially off the market. And not just off the market—completely, hopelessly, obsessively in love with you.

The caption?

“Forever wasn’t long enough, so I married her. 💙”

And with that, Jace’s fanbase entered a collective meltdown.

Instagram Comments Section: A Fangirl Massacre

“This is the worst day of my life.” 😭💔

“WHY DID I EVEN WAKE UP TODAY?!”

“Not Jace grinning like he just won the world. What about US?!?”

“How am I supposed to recover from this betrayal?” 💔

“The way he’s holding her. The way he’s looking at her. The way he KISSES HER. I CAN’T DO THIS.”

Twitter/X Reactions: A Global Crisis

“Jace Velaryon getting married feels like my boyfriend just left me for another woman.”

“His smile. HIS SMILE. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO SMILE LIKE THAT FOR ME.”

“I feel like I’ve been personally victimized by this wedding video.”

“Not only did he marry her, but he looks like he’s thriving while doing it. This is actual pain.”

“Y’all saw the way he lifted her off the ground in that kiss? We lost, girls. We lost.”

TikTok Reaction Videos: Fangirls in Mourning

One girl dramatically closing her laptop: “This is my villain origin story.”

Another girl wrapped in a blanket, chugging wine: “How do you cope when the love of your life marries someone else?”

A group of fangirls watching the video in stunned silence before screaming: “NOOOOOO!”

Someone crying into a Jace Velaryon fan poster: “He was supposed to be OUR husband!”

💔 The Ultimate Heartbreak: Jace’s Wedding Reception Photos

If the wedding video wasn’t enough, the reception photos sent fangirls straight into their graves.

• Jace pulling you into his lap during dinner, his nose nuzzling into your neck.

• Jace kissing your hand with a lovesick expression, completely mesmerized by you.

• Jace dipping you low on the dance floor, his forehead pressed against yours.

• Jace grinning like a fool as you fed him a piece of wedding cake.

• Jace whispering something in your ear that had you laughing, his hand possessively gripping your thigh.

At this point, some fangirls uninstalled social media, some sobbed into their pillows, and some stared at their screens in mute devastation.

The Final Blow: Jace’s Response to the Fangirl Meltdown

Just when the internet was suffocating in despair, Jace himself responded:

@JacaerysVelaryon: “She’s my everything. Hope you all find someone who makes you feel this way someday. 💙”

And just like that, he destroyed whatever hope his fangirls had left.

When You And Jace Posted About Your Pregnancy.

Jace’s fangirls were NOT okay.

The second the post dropped, absolute hysteria erupted across the internet.

The photo? Devastating.

Jace stood behind you, both hands wrapped around your very prominent baby bump, his head tucked against your neck. His smile? Radiant. Proud. Smug. But the next slide? That was the real fatal blow.

An ultrasound.

Three. Embryoss

The caption? Gentle, but absolutely lethal.

“A family of five… and we couldn’t be happier.”

And then—the chaos began.

“THREE??? NOT ONE. NOT TWO. BUT THREE BABIES????”

“I just dropped to my knees in the middle of a grocery store.”

“Oh my god, we lost. Not only is she pregnant, but she’s having THREE of his kids. This is a massacre.”

“I need a support group immediately.”

Some fangirls went into pure denial mode:

“No. This isn’t real. It’s a prank. HAHA, right? Right?”

“I refuse to accept this. The ultrasound is AI-generated. FAKE NEWS.”

“Maybe it’s for a movie? A promotional stunt? PLEASE, SOMEONE, TELL ME THIS IS FAKE.”

Others…? Full breakdowns.

“I JUST KNOW THOSE BABIES ARE GOING TO BE BEAUTIFUL AND IT HURTS.”

“She really secured the bloodline… Three kids… She made sure she was LOCKED IN.”

“I can’t even be mad, she did what needed to be done.”

“This is the equivalent of getting blown off the battlefield. We fought hard, ladies, but we were defeated.”

The fan edits? Exploding. The hashtags? Trending worldwide.

Within minutes, #JaceTripletBombshell was dominating social media. People were analyzing the ultrasound, dissecting Jace’s body language in the photo, and crying over the fact that he had officially left the fangirl market… forever.

Jace Velaryon had just ended his fangirls in one post.

When You And Jace Posted About Your Triplets Arrival.

📸: Jace Velaryon Instagram Post

— A photo of you in a hospital bed, looking absolutely exhausted but glowing, cradling three tiny newborns. Jace is beside you, full-on crying, his face buried in your shoulder while holding one of the babies.

The Caption?

“Our greatest adventure yet. Welcome to the world, my little dragons. ❤️🔥”

And with that, the internet broke.

Jace’s Fangirls:

“I woke up thinking it was going to be a good day… and now I find out HE HAS THREE CHILDREN?!”

“FIRST, THE ENGAGEMENT. THEN, THE WEDDING. AND NOW TRIPLETS? JACE, GIVE US TIME TO HEAL.”

“WHY DOES HE LOOK SO CUTE CRYING??? I SHOULD BE THE ONE CRYING.”

“Do you guys think there’s still a chance? Like maybe in another life?”

“His SPERM WORKS FAST, WTF.”

“My man didn’t just get stolen… HE WAS MULTIPLIED.”

“I just know he sings lullabies to those babies. I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.”

Your Fanboys:

“BRO I WAS STILL GETTING OVER THE WEDDING, WHAT IS THIS?”

“I’m so happy for her but also so deeply in pain.”

“Not only did she marry Jace, but she gave him THREE CHILDREN?? I AM SHATTERED.”

“Triplets. She really said, ‘Here’s a family in one go.’”

“Jace is crying, I’m crying, we’re all crying.”

“She’s really in her MILF era now… I can’t keep up.”

The General Public Watching the Chaos Unfold:

“This is the biggest internet heartbreak since Zayn left One Direction.”

“We lost him, y’all. Jace Velaryon is officially a father of THREE.”

“WHO LET THIS HAPPEN?!”

“Triple the babies, triple the heartbreak for the fandom.”

Meanwhile, Jace? He’s still sniffling, rocking one of the babies in his arms, looking at his phone and shaking his head at the absolute meltdown in his comment section.

“Damn… they’re really taking this hard, huh?” he murmurs, wiping his tears while kissing your forehead.

You glance at his screen, seeing thousands of devastated comments. Smirking, you whisper:

“Told you they weren’t ready.”

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

[peachcitt]

from: thirteen by @anna-scribbles

art by me :)

start from the beginning // read the november chapter // read the most recent chapter (january)

hey listen. look me in my eyes. have you read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you want your life to be forever changed you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you are a person who is breathing and alive you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. thank you

[moeblob]

Rey, who is in my very biased opinion, one of the funniest "girls" I have because she's just a guy, truly. Like Rey is just short for Reynold because he was recruited by a a goddess to help the hero she selected and the hero is conveniently Reynold's younger brother. So he agrees to help under the condition that the goddess gives him a female body for the other world. She's like "really odd flex but whatever" and gives him a female form and he's like "you know. I can't really blame anyone but myself for not specifying 'please don't turn me into a Lisa Frank personification'."