#but it's so infuriating because it ignores their dynamics

[hellcatsandcars]

not to engage with top/bottom discourse in the year of our lord 2024, but how on earth are people sleeping on dom bottom viktor and sub top jayce

[marscardigan]

be my guest

ellie williams x fem!reader

main masterlist

summary: hogwarts au. years of academic rivalry between you and ellie williams turns into something far more complicated.

word count: 4.6k

a/n: loove their dynamic sm and I tried not to make the typical cliché scenes, so I hope u enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

It all started three years ago. In potions class.

Professor Madden had set the class to make a Draught of Peace. It was a tricky potion, requiring exact measurements, but you weren’t worried. You had practiced.

Yet, when Madden passed your cauldron, he merely hummed in approval. When he reached Ellie’s, he actually paused.

"Interesting," he murmured, peering into her cauldron.

You glanced over before you could stop yourself. The shimmering, silver-blue liquid inside looked… perfect. Identical to yours. No. Better.

Professor Madden nodded slightly. "Five points to Gryffindor."

The words stung. He rarely gave points in class, especially not to second-years.

You clenched your jaw, glancing at Ellie. When she saw your reaction, she couldn't stop from smiling at you, enjoying your irritation.

And for years, this rivalry hadn’t stopped. It just grew.

Every time you and Ellie Williams shared a class, it was a battle waiting to happen. You studied until your eyes burned, perfected every spell, and brewed every potion flawlessly—because if you didn’t, Ellie would. And the most infuriating part? She barely tried.

While you spent late nights in the library, Ellie spent hers on the Quidditch pitch. While you dissected every spell down to its core, she flicked her wand with reckless ease and still got it right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she was good at everything. It wasn’t fair that, no matter how hard you worked, she always kept up.

And it definitely wasn’t fair that she knew how much it pissed you off.

Professor Samuels strolled along the front of the classroom, sleeves rolled up, chalk tapping against the board as she listed different dark creatures.

"Can anyone tell me the best way to subdue an Erkling?"

Your hand moved instinctively, but—

"Stunning spell," Ellie said, leaning back in her chair.

You didn’t even hesitate. "That wouldn’t be the best method."

Ellie’s head turned, eyes locking onto yours. You ignored her burning gaze. "Erklings are highly resistant to stunning spells. If you actually wanted to stop one, a Silencing Charm would be much more effective."

A beat of silence.

Ellie blinked at you, unimpressed. "Oh, I’m sorry. Did I ask for a correction?"

You smiled sweetly at her. "No, but Professor Samuels did ask for the best way to subdue an Erkling. I was just making sure the right answer was given."

The class let out a collective 'ooh'. Samuels, ever patient, only looked mildly amused. "Both answers are usable, though silencing an Erkling would neutralize its main weapon—the voice."

Classes had just ended, and the corridors were flooded with students. Ellie leaned casually against the stone wall outside the classroom, her broomstick propped lazily against her shoulder. Jesse and Dina stood beside her.

She smirked, still thinking about how you had damn near vibrated with annoyance when she corrected your pronunciation in charms.

"I swear, she was fuming," Ellie said, a slow grin tugging at her lips. "Thought she was gonna hex me right there in class."

Jesse snorted. "You do kinda push her buttons every chance you get."

Ellie shrugged, "yeah, but it’s fun."

"You know what else is fun? Not being obsessed with her." Dina added.

The green-eyed girl rolled her eyes. "I'm not obsessed."

"You talk about her constantly."

"I—" Ellie started, but couldn't finish her sentence.

Jesse grinned. "Hey, I get it. It's entertaining. She's all proper and serious, and you—"

"—drive her insane," Ellie finished, pleased with herself.

Just then, another voice cut in. "Yeah, but come on. She’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?"

Ellie’s head turned, spotting Miles—one of the more insufferable Slytherins—sidling up next to them.

"You know," he continued, "acts all high and mighty, but if she didn’t have her nose buried in a book twenty-four-seven, she’d be nothing. Without all that studying, she’d be just another nobody."

Ellie’s grin vanished. Miles, oblivious, kept going. "Bet she cries about grades at night. Or maybe she’s just desperate to be noticed. Like, does she even have a life outside of being a try-hard?"

"You done?" Ellie asked, voice slow and measured.

Miles blinked, thrown off by her tone. "Uh, yeah?"

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head in clear disgust. She pushed off the wall, looking at Miles like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"Right," she muttered. Then, without another glance at him, she turned to Jesse and Dina. "C’mon."

Jesse and Dina exchanged a look before following Ellie as she walked off, leaving Miles standing there, confused.

You were in the common room later, curled up in an armchair with your notes. The fireplace crackled softly, and the murmur of other students filled the space—but your concentration shattered the moment your friend dropped onto the couch beside you.

"Did you heard what happened?"

You blinked, startled.

Val scoffed at your reaction. "Miles was making fun of you and Ellie just—" She gestured wildly. "She didn’t laugh. She didn’t tease. She didn’t even play along."

Your stomach twisted. "What?"

"I’m telling you, she looked at him like he was trash. Like he wasn’t even worth the breath it’d take to insult him back. Over you."

You frowned, gripping your notes a little tighter. Ellie never passed up the opportunity to make a smug comment. Never let a chance to rile you up go to waste.

Why she would do that?

The Astronomy Tower was quiet at this hour. You had been up here practicing. Perfecting. The spell was supposed to be easy, something delicate, something that required absolute control. But after the day you had, your hands were unsteady. When you moved your wand in the final motion, the energy snapped back before you could react. A sharp sting tore through your palm.

You hissed, flinching as a thin line of crimson ran down across your skin.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, trying to shake off the pain.

"Y’know," a voice drawled from behind you, "if you wanted a dramatic midnight brooding session, you could’ve just invited me."

You tensed. Of course she was here.

Ellie Williams leaned lazily against the stone wall, arms crossed. "Kind of late for extra credit, isn’t it?" she teased, raising a brow. Then, glancing at your hand, she smirked. "Should I call a prefect? Tell ‘em you’re up here sacrificing first-years?"

"Piss off, Williams."

Her smirk faltered. Her gaze flicked to your injury again, her posture shifting. She stepped closer, the usual amusement in her face dimming just enough for you to notice.

"Let me see," she said.

You rolled your eyes. "It’s nothing—"

The auburn-haired girl ignored you, reaching out and catching your wrist gently but firmly. The warmth of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt through you, but you were too caught off guard to pull away. She turned your hand over, studying the cut under the moonlight.

Ellie exhaled through her nose, jaw ticking.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I’ll survive."

Ellie’s grip on your wrist tightened just slightly. "Not what I asked."

Her voice was quiet, steady. The teasing tone was gone, replaced with something else. Something serious. You swallowed. The way she was looking at you—like she actually cared, like she had been worried—it sent your heart into your throat.

"I’ll be fine," you muttered, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

Ellie didn’t say anything for a moment. She just held your gaze, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin. Then, with a sigh, she muttered, "C’mon, let’s fix this before you actually start dripping blood all over the place."

She didn’t let go of your wrist as she led you toward the stairs. Maybe you were too tired to fight against her touch. Or maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind.

The walk down from the Astronomy Tower was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old castle floors beneath your steps. Ellie still hadn’t let go of your wrist, like she expected you to shake her off at any second.

You should have. But you didn’t.

She led you through the dim corridors with ease, eventually slipping into an empty classroom. Ellie finally let go of you, pushing a chair out with her foot before nodding at it. "Sit."

You raised an eyebrow, "Bossy much?"

"Just sit, try-hard," she muttered, already rummaging through her robe pockets.

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, watching as she pulled out her wand and crouched in front of you. Her expression was unreadable, mouth set in a line as she studied the large cut across your palm.

"Hold still," she murmured, lifting her wand.

A soft warmth spread through your skin as she muttered a quiet healing charm. The cut began to seal itself, the sting fading into nothing.

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then, without thinking, you blurted, "Why aren’t you asleep? Don’t you have the big match tomorrow or something?"

Ellie snorted, leaning back against the desk behind her. "Awe, you remember my matches, huh?"

You didn’t answer, your ears red.

She sighed, her playful smirk fading just slightly. "I couldn’t sleep," she admitted, voice softer now.

That caught you off guard. You finally looked at her, brows furrowed. "Why?"

Ellie hesitated. She glanced away for a moment, as if debating whether to actually answer. Then, with a quiet breath, she said, "Dunno. Just had too much on my mind."

The way she said it made your chest tighten. Because for the first time since you met her, you realized something—Ellie Williams, your biggest rival, the person who had tormented you for years, the girl who got under your skin like no one else… wasn’t as untouchable as she seemed.

You wanted to be thankful at her for this. But inside your chest only boiled confusion and sudden anger. Before you could think it twice, you snapped. "Why are you doing this?"

Ellie’s composture stilled. She glanced up at you, her green eyes sharp under the low light. "Excuse me?"

You gestured vaguely to your hand. "You spend years annoying the hell out of me, making my life miserable every chance you get. And now, what? You suddenly care that I got a little cut? It could've been the perfect opportunity for you to snitch and tell some teacher about it."

Ellie didn’t respond immediately. For the first time since you met her, she seemed… caught off guard. Like she hadn’t expected you to question it. Her jaw shifted, fingers tightening around her wand.

"You’re an idiot," she muttered, shaking her head.

You frowned. "What—"

Before you could finish, Ellie grabbed your wrist again—gently this time, nothing like before. The heat of her skin against yours made your breath hitch.

"You think I’d just let you sit there bleeding like a dumbass?" she asked, voice quieter now. "Even I’m not that much of a dick."

You searched her face for any sign of mockery, any hint that this was just another game to her. But there was none. She was serious. And that was somehow worse. You could handle Ellie when she was smug, when she was insufferable, when she was competing with you for the top spot in every class. But this? This was new. This was unfamiliar.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. "Whatever," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse was suddenly too loud in your ears.

Ellie didn’t say anything else. She just let go of your wrist and stood up, stuffing her wand back into her pocket. "Let’s get out of here before some prefect catches us," she said, her voice back to normal, back to teasing. "Don’t need you losing house points and crying about it later."

The tension cracked just slightly. You rolled your eyes, shoving her shoulder as you passed her. But even as you walked ahead, you couldn’t ignore the feeling of her gaze lingering on you. Or the realization that, for some reason, Ellie Williams cared.

The next day, the Quidditch pitch was packed.

The air buzzed with anticipation, students waving banners and shouting house chants as the players took their positions in the sky. It was the kind of electric energy that had never mattered to you.

You’d been to maybe three matches in your entire time at Hogwarts. Quidditch had never been your thing—not because you thought it was stupid, but because there were always more important things to do.

But today… Today, you were here. And you hated that you didn’t have a good enough reason for why.

You sat stiffly in the stands, arms crossed, trying to act like you didn’t care, like your eyes weren’t already scanning the field for a flash of messy auburn hair and that stupid cocky grin.

Ellie flew in lazy circles, gripping her broom with easy confidence, her eyes flicking over the crowd. She wasn’t even paying attention to the other team, wasn’t listening to her captain’s last-minute pep talk.

She was looking for something. Or rather—someone. And when she found you? She nearly lost her grip on her broom. You were sitting there, in the middle of the stands, not cheering, not waving any banners—just watching. Watching her.

She barely heard the whistle blow, barely registered the game starting. She was still staring at you, caught somewhere between disbelief and… something else.

The match kicked off, brooms shooting into the sky, players diving for the quaffle. Ellie should’ve been focused, but her head was still in the stands.

Jesse, who had been tailing her in the air, noticed immediately. "Ellie," he called, banking his broom closer to her, "what the hell are you doing?"

Ellie blinked, snapping out of it. "Nothing," she muttered, gripping her broom tighter and diving into the game. And she played hard. If there was one thing Ellie Williams did better than almost anything else, it was flying. She weaved through players like she was made for the air, cutting through the wind in sharp turns, scanning the field with trained eyes.

The game stretched on, fast and brutal, both teams evenly matched. But Ellie wove through the chaos like she was born for it, ducking and dodging, always a second ahead of the defenders.

The quaffle was tucked tight under her arm as she shot forward, hair whipping in the wind. She feinted left, then veered right, completely throwing off the keeper.

And then— She threw it. The quaffle sailed through the hoop, clean and effortless.

The crowd erupted. Ellie let out a sharp exhale, only half-aware of her teammates shouting, of Jesse nearly knocking her off her broom in excitement. She had won. Gryffindor had won.

And yet— the first thing she did? She turned back to the stands. Back to you. And for one dizzying second, your eyes met across the pitch. You didn't stand. You didn't even screamed at their victory. You just held her gaze, and smiled.

She barely heard the cheers around her as Gryffindor’s team swarmed together in celebration. Jesse was shouting something in her ear, but it sounded distant. The world felt distant. Because you were there. Watching her. And smiling.

She was still thinking about it long after the game ended, long after the party in the common room stretched into the early hours of the morning. Her teammates had been buzzing with excitement, but Ellie… Ellie was still there.

And the next day, everything was different. Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else would notice. But you noticed.

For the first time in forever, neither of you had snapped at each other in class. No biting remarks, no smug comments. When you passed each other in the halls, Ellie didn’t bump your shoulder like she usually did. When you caught her looking at you, she didn’t smirk, she just looked away.

It was weird. And you weren’t sure if you liked it.

A few days later, you were sitting in the library, curled over a book when a shadow fell over your table. You glanced up. "If you’re here to gloat about Quidditch, I’ll hex you."

Ellie snorted, pulling out the chair across from you. "Tempting, but nah."

You raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "You came to the game."

You blinked, caught off guard by the way she said it. "Yeah," you said carefully. "So?"

Ellie studied you, her green eyes unreadable. "You don’t like Quidditch."

It wasn’t a question. Your stomach twisted. "Not really."

She tilted her head slightly. "So why’d you come?"

You hesitated. Because why had you? You had never cared before. Never cared who won, never cared about any match. You dropped your gaze to your book, fingers tracing the edge of the page. "Dunno. Just felt like it."

Ellie hummed, unconvinced. She tapped her fingers against the table before leaning back in her chair. "Alright," she said. "Then let’s test a theory."

You frowned. "What?"

She smirked, but it wasn’t her usual cocky grin. It was something softer. Amused. "If you really don’t care about Quidditch," she said, stretching out her legs, "then you won’t mind coming to my next match." Your breath caught as Ellie shrugged. "Just to prove you don’t care.”

You dropped your book, astonished. "That doesn't even make s—"

"—Nuh-uh. Just answer."

You stared at her, trying to find the catch. Trying to understand why she was suddenly acting like this. But she just watched you, waiting. Your heart pounded.

"…Fine," you muttered.

Ellie grinned. "Great. It’s next Saturday."

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. "I hate you."

She just laughed.

Saturday arrived faster than you wanted it to.

The game started with a whistle, and the players shot into the air. You tried not to search for Ellie right away, but your eyes found her anyway. She was easy to spot—Chaser. Fast. Sharp. Too damn good.

You weren’t watching, not really. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But then something happened.

Ellie had the quaffle, flying hard toward the goalposts. A Slytherin chaser came in from the side, fast. Too fast. The collision was brutal. One second, Ellie was in control. The next, she was spinning.

She managed to stay on her broom, but barely. The quaffle was lost, and the Slytherin team surged forward. The crowd roared, half in protest, half in excitement.

Your stomach dropped. You gripped the edge of your seat, pulse hammering in your ears. Ellie steadied herself, shaking her head like she was trying to clear it. She looked up, right at you. Your breath hitched. And then—Ellie smirked. It was a little weaker than usual, but it was still her. And fuck, did that make your chest ache.

The game continued, but you barely registered it. You watched, though. More than you should have. And when Gryffindor won, the stands exploded. And you just held her gaze. And smiled. Just like before. And this time, Ellie smiled back.

That night, the Gryffindor common room was wild with celebration. Laughter, music, and the occasional drunken cheer filled the space, students packed together in a sea of red and gold. Butterbeer bottles clinked, spilled, and passed from hand to hand. It was warm, loud, alive.

You found yourself on the small balcony overlooking the chaos, leaning against the railing, your third butterbeer in hand. The cold air brushed against your flushed skin, doing little to sober you up. The drink wasn’t strong—nowhere near Firewhiskey—but three of them on an empty stomach made your limbs feel light, your head a little too fuzzy. You sighed, taking another sip. Maybe you should just go to bed. Maybe—

"You gonna fall off or what?"

Your heart jumped at the sudden voice beside you. You turned, only to find Ellie leaning against the railing, her own butterbeer in hand, watching you with that lazy, lopsided grin.

You scowled, rolling your eyes. "Shouldn’t you be celebrating the victory?"

Ellie lifted her bottle and clinked it against yours. "Oh, but I am."

You blinked. Then, against your will—you smiled.

You hated that she did this to you. That no matter how much you tried to keep your distance, she had a way of getting in.

Ellie didn’t say anything at first, just took a slow sip from her bottle, eyes flickering down to the party below. She looked… different. Not just because she was cleaned up from the match, hair damp from a shower, but because—

Because she was just here. Next to you. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the muffled laughter from inside filling the quiet. It should have been awkward. It wasn’t. Finally, Ellie exhaled, setting her bottle down on the railing.

"You know," she started, voice quieter now, "I really didn’t think you’d come."

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your drink. "I almost didn’t," you admitted.

Ellie nodded, as if she expected that. "Then why did you?"

You looked away. "Dunno."

Ellie hummed, like she did know. Like she was waiting for you to admit it.

Why were you suddenly uncomfortable? "It’s not like I care about Quidditch."

"I know."

"Or Gryffindor."

"I know."

You hesitated. Ellie leaned in slightly, her voice softer now. Closer. "But you care about me."

Your breath hitched. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even smug. Just—honesty.

You turned, ready to snap something back, to push her away like you always did, but her eyes stopped you. They were warm. Open. Studying you like she could see straight through you.

You gripped your beer harder. "You hit the ground pretty hard."

Ellie raised an eyebrow at the subject change but let it slide. "I’ve had worse."

"…Does it hurt?"

Ellie leaned in just a little, voice barely above a whisper, "I’ll survive."

Your stomach twisted. You swallowed, turning away, but Ellie didn’t move. She stayed close, her presence buzzing against your skin. The party roared on behind you. But here, on this balcony, it was just the two of you. The weight of Ellie’s stare made your whole body buzz.

You could lie. You could roll your eyes, take another sip of your drink, and shove her away with a snarky remark like you always did. You could pretend like none of this meant anything. But it did mean something. And then you made the mistake of looking up at her.

Ellie was close. Too close. The dim torchlight caught the freckles dusting her nose, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips parted slightly—like she was about to say something, but thought better of it.

You should’ve said something first. Should’ve broken the tension, pushed her away, anything. But Ellie’s hand moved before you could react. Soft. Gentle. She reached up, fingers skimming against your jaw like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch you. Your breath caught. Then—so quietly, she breathed, "Tell me to stop."

You should. You should tell her to stop, because this was Ellie Williams, your rival, your biggest annoyance, your— your what?

You swallowed, but your throat felt too dry.

Ellie was watching you now, green eyes flickering between yours, searching. Waiting.You didn’t say anything. The girl exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath for too long. Then, slowly, she leaned in. Your mind barely had time to catch up before her lips were on yours. Warm. Soft. Sure.

Your breath hitched, but your body betrayed you before your brain could. Your fingers curled around the fabric of her sweater, pulling her closer instinctively. Ellie let out a quiet sound—something between a sigh and a hum—and tilted her head, deepening the kiss.

The world outside the balcony disappeared. The party, the noise, the rivalry, all of it. It was just her. Ellie kissed you like she’d been waiting for this. Like she’d been holding herself back for years and finally—finally—let go.

And you? You kissed her back. Because fuck it. For once, you let yourself lose.

The days that followed were a blur.

Ellie would find you in the library, pretending to study when all she was really doing was nudging her knee against yours under the table. You’d roll your eyes at her, but you never moved away. She'd brush against your side in the corridors, just enough to send a shiver up your spine. At night, she'd meet you in empty classrooms, her hands warm against your skin, her lips everywhere.

And right now? Right now, you were completely, utterly fucked.

"Ellie," you hissed against her lips, barely able to catch your breath. "We are so late."

She just hummed, hands gripping your waist as she pressed you back against the wooden desk. "Mm. And whose fault is that?"

You let out a breathless laugh, hands fisting the front of her shirt. "Oh, you did this. You—"

Ellie cut you off with another kiss, and for a second, you forgot what you were even arguing about. Until the clock tower chimed, and you froze. Shit.

Ellie grinned, completely unbothered. "Think Samuels will care if we miss another class?"

You shoved her, grabbing your bag. "Yes, Williams, she will."

"Call me that again and I swear we won't be going for good." She said, leaning onto the desk amused by your redness. "You know how much it turns me on."

You hurried to fix yourself up, wiping at your lips and smoothing your hair. Ellie just watched as you tried to compose yourself. When you glared at her, she held up her hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," she said, stepping back. "You go first. I'll come in a few minutes."

You nodded, heart still hammering, and rushed out the door.

By the time you slid into your seat, the lecture had already started. A few heads turned, but you kept your gaze forward, pretending like nothing was wrong.

And then the whispers started. Quiet at first, and then more obvious.

Your stomach twisted. Slowly, cautiously, you glanced around.

A few students were looking at you. Not in a you-just-walked-in-late way. No, this was different. You looked down, and then you realized why the sudden confusion.

Your tie. Your fucking tie. The red-and-gold Gryffindor colors stood out immediately, a stark contrast against your uniform. Your own tie, the one in your house colors, was missing.

And then, before you could even react, the door creaked open.

Ellie strolled in, looking as nonchalant as ever, her hands stuffed in her pockets. She met your eyes across the room, and the second you saw her smirk, you knew.

Her tie. It was yours. Your actual house colors, wrapped loosely around her neck like she didn’t have a single care in the world.

The whispers turned to quiet laughter. You clenched your jaw, gripping your quill so hard it nearly snapped. Ellie, the bastard, just grinned.

She sat down across from you, still watching, still smirking, like she was so damn proud of herself. Like she wanted people to know. Like she had planned this.

You exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. Ellie only raised a brow. And then—that fucking smirk again. Like she was saying mine.

[leahwllmsn]

good graces

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 3.4k

You dislike Alexia Putellas with everything in you. Or maybe you’ve been crushing on her all this time. Who knows.

The first thing you noticed upon entering the club was the sea of people that made it hard for you to even get to the booth. The music was blaring in your ears and the smell of smoke wafted towards your nose. A strobe light shone against your eyes, making you squint and stop in your tracks. Kika was walking ahead of you and you quickly grabbed onto her hand, forcing her to stop as well.

“What’s wrong?” Kika spoke towards your ear.

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine. Got disoriented for a second.”

“Okay.” Kika turned around, still keeping her hand linked with yours. You let yourself get dragged, Kika manoeuvring the both of you easily around the crowd.

It felt like forever until you finally reached the booth where the rest of the Barcelona players were occupying. Everyone was exchanging their ‘hi’s and ‘nice to meet you’s and you couldn’t focus on any of that. Not when you could feel her gaze on you.

The season was starting next week and since you and a couple of girls were new to the club, Patri decided to host a night out to introduce the newcomers. You knew a couple of the Spanish girls, having met them during international matches and exchanged contacts throughout your years in professional football.

There was one person, however, that… you didn’t really know how to explain it. Was she your enemy? Frenemy? You didn’t exactly hate her… But you didn’t exactly like her either. You’re pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

But it wasn’t that negative, soul-sucking, I-hope-she-dies type of hatred—at least, to you it wasn’t. It was more of… you couldn’t stand the stupid smirk on her face, it was infuriating, and even more so when she pushed you to the ground during matches or worse—when she completely humiliated you by nutmegging you and scoring a goal.

The smirk she sent your way after that was… maddening. You wanted to punch her, or something. You didn’t though. Instead you scowled at her throughout the rest of the game and you ignored her when everyone was shaking hands.

So you never really know where you stood with Alexia Putellas. The only words exchanged between you two were the heated curses on the pitch. Now that you two were going to be teammates, it was going to change the dynamics between you, definitely. You didn’t know in what way though.

You were never able to pinpoint why you disliked her so much, maybe it was because of the way she walked around the pitch like she owned the game before it even started. Like she was so confident that she would be winning—which was sexy as hell, yes, but it angered you. Because you were going to win, obviously. 

So maybe it was a good thing that you would be on the same team now. Maybe you could finally co-exist.

The situation had been on your mind ever since you signed for Barcelona. The uncertainty of it all was throwing you off. So you made a mental note to avoid her until you could figure it out.

Whatever ‘it’ was.

Your mantra before entering the club was to look away, to not spare her a glance. Not under any circumstances should you look her way. Period. 

It should be simple. It was simple.

All thoughts completely flew out the window the moment you arrived at the booth and you could feel Alexia’s eyes on you.

Ever since the first time you shook hands with her on the field (you were fifteen and she was sixteen), you had always known when her eyes were on you. Call it intuition or sixth sense or whatever.

So you had no choice but to look at her.

(She looked as good as you remembered.)

Your eyes locked for a second before Alexia broke away first, her eyes falling down to your left hand—your hand that was tightly intertwined with Kika’s. You saw the frown she sent your way and you sent her one back. Was it so hard to smile at someone?

You felt a tug at your hand and realised that Kika was motioning for you to take a seat. You glanced up once more at Alexia, but her gaze was now focused on the drink in front of her. 

You slid into the booth next to Kika and accepted the drink that Pina held out to you, muttering a ‘thanks’. Once you did, you felt the pair of hazel eyes from across the table back on you. 

Your eye contact lasted longer this time, you didn’t know why Alexia was looking at you like that. It was a gaze that felt so intense, making you instantly chug your drink. 

“Whoa,” you heard someone say, a giggle following after. “No rush, chica. We have all night.”

“Patri, nice to see you again,” you shouted over the music.

“You too!” She lifted a bottle of vodka, silently asking you if you wanted some, to which you nodded in reply. Patri took your now empty glass and poured some into it. “We’re out of shot glasses, sorry! This one over here,” she pointed a thumb at Alexia. “Accidentally elbowed them to the ground and now we only get plastic cups!”

You couldn’t help it and joined in on the laughter. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alexia’s head snap towards you. You gulped the drink Patri gave you and continued on with your staring contest with the captain. You raised an eyebrow at her, she simply threw that signature smirk of hers your way.

Infuriating.

“Can they actually do that?” asked Jana.

“Apparently!” Patri answered back.

Mapi placed her arm around Alexia’s shoulder, “You have to excuse this one. She had some pre-drinks at her place so she’s already well on her way to being extra drunk.” After a moment, she added. “Although, she became extremely calm these past few minutes. Are you okay?” Mapi teased.

Alexia playfully shoved her away. “It’s not my fault they didn’t know the risks when they decided to open a club.”

You felt Kika bump her shoulder against yours. “I can see why you’re so hung up on her, to be honest.”

At that, you pulled back. You gave Kika a look that was a mixture of ‘what the hell are you talking about’ and ‘I think I’m not drunk enough for this conversation’.

Kika rolled her eyes and leaned closer, speaking directly in your ears. “She’s ridiculously attractive.”

You placed your hand on Kika’s face, shoving her away. You could feel Kika’s laughter against your palm and you pulled your hand back.

“Y/n—” Kika started, but you interrupted her.

“Nope,” you took another gulp of your drink. “Talk to me again about this topic when I’m drunk. Actually, no. Don’t talk to me about this topic at all because there is nothing to talk about in the first place!”

Kika shook her head fondly and wrapped her arm around your neck, bringing your head towards her so she could whisper in your ear. “I think you should drink faster then, because your girl looks like she’s going to kill me and we need to do something about it.”

You pinched her thigh. “She’s not my girl.”

“Ouch! That was the part you got? Not her wanting to kill me?”

“Stop being ridiculous then. Why would she want to kill you?”

Kika grinned. “Probably because to everyone else it looks like we’re about to kiss.”

Your eyes widened at your proximity and quickly shoved the brunette, causing her to lean backwards into Jana, who looked amused at the two of you.

“Sorry,” Kika whined. “Y/n’s fault!”

Just when you were about to say something back, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. A text message from an unknown number.

Hola

It’s Alexia.

You glanced up at her, giving her a confused look. Alexia just gave a slight nod of her head, flicking her eyes to your phone. You sighed. This was going to be fun.

you: how did you get my number?

unknown number: Perks of being the capitana.

you: why are you even texting me? you’re literally in front of me

unknown number: Oh am I? Thank you for pointing that out.

you: you’re as annoying as I remembered

you: so ? is there a reason why you’re texting me

annoying capi: Because you are too far away. It’s so loud here. I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you.

annoying capi: I have captain duties

you: to talk to me?

annoying capi: Yes

You almost rolled your eyes at that. What kind of captain duties was this? Pere would likely introduce Alexia as your captain on your first day. There was nothing urgent that any captain-teammate talk had to be done now.

You just hoped that she wasn’t planning on kicking you out of the club, or any other evil things you couldn’t think of. You stared at her, somewhere between a glare and an interested look. Only one way to find out.

you: I’m about to grab a drink at the bar

annoying capi: Is this an invitation?

you: am I going by myself or are you coming with?

“Y/n and I are grabbing more drinks,” Alexia announced. “Does anyone want anything?”

Everyone shook their heads and with that Alexia slid out of the booth. She outstretched her hand towards you and you stared down at it. There was no way that Alexia was asking you to hold her hand, because that would be ridiculous, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you were ready to know what it feels like to hold Alexia’s hand—

“Dios mío,” Alexia reached out and grabbed your wrist. You didn’t have time to react and the next thing you knew, you were being pulled to the bar.

Alexia’s grasp on your wrist was tight, you felt all tingly as more seconds passed by and Alexia’s grip never faltered. 

You inwardly cringe at yourself for feeling like that towards a… a frenemy (you still didn’t know what you two were).

When you reached the bar, Alexia finally let go and you kind of missed the warm feeling Alexia’s hold gave you.

“What’s your drink?” Alexia asked.

“Uhm…”

The place was crowded, which was definitely good for the business, but you decided that it was very not good for you. Because with the way Alexia was leaning sideways against the counter, arms crossed, eyebrows raised at you—Alexia was so close that you couldn’t think of anything, except the way her eyes looked even more heavenly at night (not that you noticed. You were too busy marking her during games, you definitely had no time to admire the way the sunlight made her eyes shine even brighter).

“Do you do that a lot?” Alexia asked once she finished talking to the bartender.

When you still hadn’t answered, Alexia pursed her lips and blew on your face. “Boo.”

Your eyes widened. “W-what was that for?”

“You’re zoning out again,” Alexia rolled her eyes at you.

“No I wasn’t,” you tried your best to sound calm despite your racing heartbeat. 

Alexia smelled like alcohol and a perfume that you knew was from Chanel (you had the same one at home) and you knew you weren’t supposed to let your mind wander, but you couldn’t help but think about how it would feel like to have Alexia pressed up against you. Like, really pressed up against you. 

How her lips would feel on—

“You’re doing it again,” Alexia noted.

You blinked a few times. What the hell were you thinking? You couldn’t think of Alexia like that. The thought made you shiver. You two disliked each other. “I’m doing what?”

“Spacing out,” Alexia looked amused. “Something on your mind?”

“Just the usual,” you replied, looking anywhere but those eyes.

“And what is the usual to you?”

You let out a small laugh. “Are you always this nosy? I don’t see you texting Kika or Pajor and asking for a one-on-one.”

Alexia shrugged. “Maybe I’m just interested in you.”

At that, you looked at Alexia and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just am. I can’t pinpoint it.”

You narrowed your eyes. Was she flirting with you? “Is this you talking to me as my captain or is this something else?” Alexia was about to reply when you cut her off. “Is this where you say something nice about me but then talk shit a second later?” you paused. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because the next thing you knew, Alexia was laughing. It was the first time you’ve heard her laugh. You didn’t want to think about the tug in your heart or the smile making its way to your lips. “What does that have to do with anything?” Alexia asked you.

You crossed your arms against your chest. “It sounded like you were flirting with me.”

“I could mean being interested in you in a non-romantic sense,” Alexia refuted. “I am going to be your capitana after all.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you looked around the bar. “I think you’re lying.”

Alexia looked amused. “Why do you think that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I just do. I can’t pinpoint it.”

“Using my words against me, I see.” 

You cheekily smiled at her and she did the same. Alexia actually smiled at you. It was a miracle. First you made her laugh, then you made her smile. You were on a roll.

Not that it mattered. You couldn’t care less, really.

Suddenly remembering that you didn’t tell her what drink you wanted, you looked at the bartender then back at her, “Did you order for me? Hope it’s nothing poisonous. We’re about to play on the same team, you can stop trying to kill me on the field now.”

Alexia scoffed. “I never acted like I wanted to kill you.”

“I beg to differ but sure,” you couldn’t believe that you were enjoying a conversation with Alexia Putellas. “I never told you my drink order, so if you got me something I don’t like, you’re paying for it.”

Alexia scrunched her nose at you. “I thought I was paying for it. I am a gentlewoman after all.”

You hummed. “Does this work on all women?”

“It’s Sex on the Beach, by the way,” Alexia ignored your question. “What I ordered for you.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. Oh this can definitely be considered flirting. “Why Sex on the Beach?”

Alexia just shrugged in response.

“That’s my favourite,” you told her. “Just for your information.”

“Really?” Alexia grinned at you. (What a sight it was.) “I am so good at this.”

“Sure. You probably chose that drink so you could flirt with me.”

“Is that a problem?”

You looked at her questioningly. “That you got my favourite cocktail right on the first try?”

Alexia laughed again, but this time there wasn’t the usual teasing tone when she spoke. “You’re so dense sometimes.”

“Thanks,” you drew out. “I guess.”

“What I meant was… is that a problem if I was flirting with you?”

You weren't expecting that answer. This was definitely not the captain-teammate talk you were expecting, nor was this the type of conversation you were expecting from your frenemy. “Uh,” you stammered. “With the fact that you have a girlfriend, yeah kind of.”

Alexia stared at you for a second, before she looked away. When she turned to you again, a coy smile was present on her lips. “You’re right. That was terrible. Sorry, please don’t tell my non-existent girlfriend about this.”

Oh? You tried to hide the smile that was making its way to your face. “Don’t worry. I don’t know your non-existent girlfriend enough to snitch on you.”

The bartender interrupted you with your drinks and you gulped half of yours in one go. You needed to be more intoxicated with the way this conversation was going.

“I probably sound like a terrible girlfriend,” Alexia said, placing her card back in her wallet after paying for your drinks.

“Hm? How so?”

“I’m literally flirting with another woman here, even though my girlfriend, our three kids, and two dogs are waiting for me at our mansion,” Alexia rolled out dramatically, you laughed at how ridiculous she was.

“So you were flirting with me.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, looking down. She looked… shy? This was new. You were enjoying this very much. “I never said such a thing.”

“What?” You looked at her in disbelief. “Alexia, you just said ‘I’m literally flirting with another woman’.”

Alexia shrugged, taking a gulp of her drink. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

You had to keep on reminding yourself that Alexia was your frenemy. You two disliked each other. Whatever this was… it was a momentary lapse in judgement. A drunk night out. You weren’t into Alexia like that and she was definitely, totally just playing with you. But looking at the blonde in front of you—how Alexia was doing something as simple as swirling her straw in her drink—you never wanted to do something stupid as much as right now.

“You know,” you started. “If you didn’t have a girlfriend, I would totally kiss you.”

You were only toying with her of course. You didn’t actually want to kiss her.

Alexia choked on her drink. “I’m sorry, what?” she looked at you wide-eyed.

You smirked, it was a nice turn of events, having Alexia be the one stuttering instead of you. “You heard me.”

“Well,” you saw Alexia gulp and place her drink on the bar. “I guess you’re in luck then.” Alexia averted her eyes down to your lips. “My non-existent girlfriend just broke up with me,” she pouted dramatically. Damn it. You were trying so hard not to look at her lips. “You, on the other hand, is a terrible date.”

You looked confused. “Me?”

Alexia nodded. “Flirting with me when your date is right there,” she tilted her head in the direction of where your friends were sitting. “Kika?”

You laughed at that. Was Alexia actually jealous? “Am I sensing some jealousy here, Putellas?”

“Why would I be?” Alexia scoffed, the faint blush on her cheeks visible despite the dark lighting of the club. Oh this was so much fun.

“Is that why you’re always so hostile towards me on the pitch, Capi? Do you actually have a crush on me? Asking me out would work just fine, you know.”

“I’m not…” Alexia crossed her arms. “I’m not jealous and I definitely do not have a crush on you. Ridícula.”

You could feel the effects of the alcohol, because you could never be this bold otherwise. You stepped forward, tracing a finger down Alexia’s forearm.

“Uh,” Alexia stammered.

“It’s so funny,” you whispered in her ear. “To have the mighty Alexia Putellas speechless for once.”

You tapped Alexia’s cheek and leaned back.

Alexia just kept on staring at you for a few seconds, her mouth stuttering to say something.

“I’m going to order another drink,” you said, gulping down the last of your cocktail. “Do you want something?”

Alexia finally regained her composure and straightened her back. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

You waved the bartender over and told him your order. You turned to Alexia with an expectant look. “Well? What do you want?”

“Ah. Are you on the menu?” Alexia answered, giving you her best innocent look.

It took a second for you to realise what Alexia said, and when you did, your mouth dropped open. 

Before you could reply, Alexia leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I always win these games, cariño,” the hot breath against your ear causing you to shiver. “See you back there.” Alexia winked and turned around, leaving you to stare at her retreating figure with your mouth still agape and your heart thumping wildly against your chest.

You hated her so much.

[olderwomenenthusiast]

game of power (emily prentiss)

PAIRING: emily prentiss & fem reader DESCRIPTION: emily finally as her way with you & vice versa CAUTION: the usual smut, swearing, bit of arguing, power dynamics WORD COUNT: 3.6k AUTHOR'S NOTE: seriously need to lower my sex drive

The tension between you and Emily had been festering for weeks—longer, if you were honest with yourself. Every case, every briefing, every sideways glance across the bullpen had been laced with something dark and unspoken. Sharp words, lingering touches that lasted a second too long, glares that burned hotter than they should.

And tonight, it finally erupts.

The case had gone south in the worst way. A last-minute call had changed the plan, and you had ignored Emily’s order to fall back, pushing forward when she told you to wait. The unsub was taken down, but not before a gun was drawn, a bullet missing your head by inches. The entire ride back to the hotel had been suffocating in silence, tension so thick it pressed against your ribs. Emily’s knuckles were white against her crossed arms, her jaw tight as she stared out the window. You could feel the anger radiating off her, but she said nothing—until now.

The moment you step into the hallway, Emily is on you.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice is low but sharp, cutting through the quiet.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you pull your key card from your pocket. "We got him, didn’t we?"

Emily’s hand slams against the wall next to your head before you can turn away. "That’s not the damn point. You disobeyed a direct order, and you could’ve been killed."

Your pulse spikes. Not just from the anger, but from how close she is, the heat of her body radiating against yours. "I handled it. I don’t need you babysitting me, Prentiss."

Her jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. "Oh, is that what you think this is?" She leans in, voice dropping to a near growl. "You think I give a damn because it’s my job? Because I need to control you?"

Something in her tone makes your breath hitch, and she catches it. Her eyes darken, tracking the subtle shift of your throat as you swallow. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, dangerous and knowing.

"Say it," she murmurs, voice thick with something heavier than anger. "Tell me you don’t feel this."

You grit your teeth, your hands curling into fists at your sides. "You’re insufferable."

Emily chuckles, dark and knowing. "And you’re a brat."

Before you can bite out a reply, her hands are on you, gripping the front of your shirt and yanking you forward. Your back hits the wall with a dull thud, and then her mouth crashes against yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues, a battle for control neither of you are willing to surrender. Emily presses her body flush against yours, pinning you between her and the wall, and the heat of her seeps into your skin, making your head spin. Her knee nudges between your thighs, spreading you open just enough for her to feel the slight hitch in your breath, the involuntary way your body reacts to her.

You gasp as she nips at your bottom lip, and she takes advantage of the opening, her tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees weak. One of her hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head back as she deepens the kiss, her other hand gripping your hip so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise.

"You drive me fucking crazy," she growls against your lips, her teeth grazing your jaw as she trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. "Reckless. Stubborn. Infuriating."

Your head tilts back against the wall, a shuddering breath escaping as her tongue flicks over the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "Then do something about it."

Emily pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes black with desire. "You sure you want to play that game?"

You don’t hesitate. "I can handle it."

Her smirk is wicked, full of promise and punishment. "We’ll see about that."

Before you can process it, she grips your wrist and tugs you toward her hotel room, the lock clicking behind you before she shoves you against the door. Her hands make quick work of your shirt, yanking it over your head before her lips are on your collarbone, teeth scraping against your skin as she undoes the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. Her tongue flicks over the newly exposed skin, lips closing around a sensitive peak as her hands work their way lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your jeans.

She watches your reaction, waiting for the moment your breath stutters, your pupils dilate, your body arches into her touch. Then she grips your thighs and lifts you, pressing you hard against the door as she rocks into you, slow and deliberate, making you whimper in frustration.

"So eager," she murmurs against your skin. "You like this, don’t you? Pushing me until I snap. Until I take what I want."

Your breath hitches, fingers digging into her shoulders. "Shut up and do it already."

Emily chuckles darkly before dropping to her knees, hands gripping your hips as she tugs your jeans down, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your inner thighs. The way she looks up at you, lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide with lust, makes you tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs, pressing a teasing kiss to your already aching core. "You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into."

A shudder wracks through your body as Emily’s breath fans over your soaked cunt, deliberate and teasing. She’s savoring this - relishing the way you tremble, the way your hands grip the doorframe behind you as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

"Emily," you grind out, voice rough with frustration.

She hums against your inner thigh, lips grazing your skin. "Patience," she murmurs, dragging her tongue upward but stopping just short of where you need her most. "You push me until I snap, but now you can’t wait?"

Your glare is half-hearted, your breath uneven. "I swear to God --"

Whatever threat you were about to make dissolves into a strangled moan as Emily finally licks a broad, slow stripe through your slick folds, her tongue pressing firmly against your clit before she pulls back just enough to tease.

"Fuck," you gasp, your body jolting at the first real touch.

She grins against you, lips brushing your cunt as she whispers, "That’s more like it."

Her hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you spread open for her as she goes back in, her tongue flicking and circling with devastating precision. She’s thorough, drinking in every sound, every desperate buck of your hips, every sharp inhale as she builds you up.

"You taste so fucking good," she groans, voice muffled as she buries herself between your legs, lapping at your pussy like she can’t get enough. "You get this wet just from fighting with me?"

You can’t form words, just a whimper, your fingers twisting in her dark hair, tugging hard enough to make her moan against you. The vibration sends another sharp jolt through you, your back arching against the door.

Emily chuckles darkly. "You like that, don’t you?" She wraps her lips around your clit, sucking just right, her tongue flicking against the sensitive nub before she drags two fingers through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

"Emily," you whine, pushing your hips forward, desperate for more.

She rewards you by thrusting two fingers deep inside, curling them instantly, pressing against that spot that makes your vision blur.

"Fuck, yes," you gasp, legs threatening to give out.

Emily holds you steady, fucking you with slow, deep strokes as her tongue keeps working your clit, relentless and precise. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your body winding up so tight you think you might snap in half.

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" she taunts, her breath hot against your cunt, her fingers fucking into you faster. "Come on, let me feel it."

It only takes one more flick of her tongue, one more press of her fingers, and you’re gone - your orgasm slamming into you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. Your entire body locks up, pleasure surging through every nerve as you cry out her name, legs shaking, pussy clenching around her fingers as she works you through it.

Emily groans, licking you through every pulse, dragging it out until you’re twitching from overstimulation. She presses a final, filthy kiss to your swollen clit before pulling back, her lips and chin glistening as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

She rises to her feet, gripping your chin between her fingers as she smirks down at you. "Still think you can handle me?"

You’re wrecked, boneless, but your smirk is just as wicked as hers. "I think you’re the one who’s in trouble, Prentiss."

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, something hungry, and then she’s crashing her lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on her tongue as she pushes you back toward the bed, stripping off her shirt in one smooth motion.

"Get on the bed," she orders, voice thick with lust. "I’m not done with you yet."

A slow smirk spreads across your lips as Emily tugs you toward the bed, but instead of following her lead, you dig your heels in, flipping the script. In one swift motion, you push her backward, and she stumbles onto the mattress with a soft gasp, caught off guard.

"Think you’re the only one who knows how to take control?" you tease, climbing over her, straddling her waist as your hands press against her shoulders.

Emily blinks up at you, surprise flickering across her face before something more playful and more challenging replaces it. "Oh, is that what you’re doing?" she muses, arching a brow. "Trying to take charge?"

You lean in, dragging your nails down her toned stomach, feeling the way her muscles tense beneath your touch. "I don’t try, Prentiss. I do."

Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, you think you have her exactly where you want her. You dip your head, nipping at her jawline, trailing kisses down her neck, savoring the way her breath hitches when your teeth scrape against her pulse. Your fingers trail lower, reaching for the button of her pants

And then, in an instant, she moves.

Before you can react, Emily twists, flipping you onto your back with a breathless laugh, pinning your wrists above your head as she looms over you. "Nice try," she breathes against your lips, her grin smug.

You huff, tugging at your hands, but her grip is firm. "Oh, come on, you couldn’t just let me have my moment?"

Emily chuckles, shaking her head. "You’re adorable when you think you’re in charge."

You narrow your eyes at her, lips twitching despite yourself. "You’re so damn smug --"

But then she shifts her grip, and somehow, the movement is just awkward enough that you both end up toppling sideways on the mattress, tangled in limbs, laughing.

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, and you don’t even try to suppress it. Emily laughs, too; real, unrestrained, her face buried in the crook of your neck as she shakes with amusement.

"This is ridiculous," you manage between laughs, trying to untangle yourself, only to make it worse. "We’re supposed to be having angry sex, not rolling around like idiots."

Emily pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Oh, don’t worry," she murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I’ll still ruin you."

You shiver at the promise in her tone, your laughter fading into something softer, something charged.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you challenge, voice dipping into something sultry.

Emily grins, leaning down until her lips barely graze yours. "Patience," she whispers. "I like to take my time."

A shudder rolls through you as Emily’s lips move lower, her teeth grazing the curve of your neck before she soothes the spot with her tongue. Your pulse pounds beneath her touch, your breath coming quicker, heavier.

Her grip on your wrists is firm but no longer restraining. You could break free if you wanted. But the way her body presses against yours, the slow, deliberate drag of her lips down your collarbone, makes you forget why you’d ever want to.

"You’re so quiet now," Emily murmurs against your skin, her voice dripping with amusement. Her fingers trail along the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to skate across your stomach, teasing but not quite giving you what you want. "Where’s all that attitude from earlier?"

You exhale sharply as her nails rake lightly over your ribs, your back arching involuntarily into her touch. "You’re so damn smug," you breathe, though there’s no real bite to your words.

Just need.

Emily chuckles, her lips curving against your skin. "And you love it."

Before you can argue, before you can do anything at all, she shifts, moving down your body with agonizing slowness, her hands pushing your shirt up, her lips following the path her fingers carve. Each press of her mouth is soft, teasing, deliberate. Your skin is burning, desperate for more, for something less restrained.

You tangle your fingers in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her look up at you. Her dark eyes flicker with something wicked, her lips swollen from where she’s been kissing her way down your torso.

"Impatient?" she muses, her breath hot against your stomach.

Your fingers tighten in her hair. "I swear to god, Prentiss -"

"Relax," she murmurs, her voice velvety smooth as she glances up at you, her hands sliding possessively over your thighs. "I told you—I like to take my time."

A growl of frustration builds in your throat as Emily drags this out, her hands gripping your hips like she has all the time in the world. Your body is burning, every nerve alight with need, and she knows it. She loves it.

"Prentiss," you snap, voice rough, wrecked.

Emily just smirks, her fingers digging into your thighs, holding you down as she presses an open-mouthed kiss just above where you need her most.

"Still so demanding," she muses, her voice thick with amusement. But there’s a hunger in her eyes now, dark and molten, and when she moves this time, it’s with purpose.

And then she’s on you, her mouth hot and unrelenting, her fingers pushing your thighs apart without hesitation.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat at the first touch of her tongue - no teasing now, no patience, just raw, desperate hunger. She devours you, her grip bruising against your hips as she holds you in place, taking exactly what she wants.

You writhe beneath her, hands flying to her hair, gripping tight, tugging, trying to ground yourself as pleasure crashes over you in waves. But Emily doesn’t let up. If anything, the slight pull at her hair only fuels her, makes her groan against you, the vibrations sending another shock of pleasure straight through you.

"Fuck—Emily—"

Emily’s mouth is relentless, her tongue flicking and circling, dragging you closer and closer to that razor-sharp edge. You’re already trembling beneath her, your thighs twitching, your fingers tangled in her hair as she devours you like she needs this—like she can’t get enough.

And then fuck, she bites.

A sharp, deliberate press of her teeth against your clit, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. The sensation is electric, too much and not enough all at once, and your back arches off the bed, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Emily growls against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure straight through your core. She soothes the sting immediately, her tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves, but the damage is done.

You’re wrecked.

Your breath is ragged, your body taut like a bowstring, and Emily knows she has you now. Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging in, bruising. She loves watching you break.

"Fuck, Emily..." Your voice is raw, desperate, your hips jerking against her mouth, seeking more, everything.

She hums in approval, then does it again. A sharp little nip, followed by the soothing slide of her tongue, pushing you higher, driving you to the edge of madness.

Your vision blurs. Your entire body burns. Every nerve ending is focused on her. Her mouth, her hands, the way she’s tearing you apart piece by piece, devouring you with no intention of stopping.

You’re close, so dangerously close, teetering right on the brink. And Emily knows it.

"Come on," she rasps against you, her voice wrecked, commanding. "Let go."

And with one last flick of her tongue, one last bite - sharp, perfect, devastating - you do.

Pleasure slams through you, white-hot and overwhelming, a cry escaping your lips as your entire body locks up before shattering completely. You feel Emily’s hands gripping you, grounding you, holding you through every wave as she rides it out with you, drawing it out until you’re nothing but a trembling, gasping mess beneath her.

Only when she’s sure you’re done, completely spent and twitching, does she finally pull back.

She crawls back up your body, her lips slick, her breathing ragged, and she smirks, so damn smug, so utterly pleased with herself.

"You look good like this," she murmurs, dragging her teeth along your jaw, her voice thick with satisfaction. "All wrecked and desperate for me."

Your pulse is still erratic, your body still trembling, but you still manage to huff out a breathless laugh.

"Smug bitch," you whisper, your fingers tangling in her hair as you yank her down, your lips crashing against hers.

Because now?

It’s her turn to break.

Emily is a fighter. She's stubborn, defiant, smug. But right now? Right now, she’s crumbling.

Her wrists are pinned above her head, her body taut beneath you, her breath ragged as you hover over her, just out of reach. Your fingers skim down her stomach, featherlight, barely touching, just enough to torment.

"You want something, Prentiss?" you purr, lips brushing against her ear, your nails dragging over the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Emily exhales sharply, her body twitching at the ghost of your touch. But she’s holding on, biting back the words, refusing to give in so easily.

You grin. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Slowly, painfully, you trail your fingers lower, brushing against the heat between her thighs - slick, soaked, aching. You feel the way she tenses, the way her hips jerk instinctively toward your hand, but you pull away before she can get what she wants.

Emily lets out a frustrated groan, her head tipping back against the pillows. "Fucking tease," she grits out.

You chuckle, biting down on the side of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "Oh, I know you can do better than that," you murmur, sucking at the sensitive skin just below her jaw, making her squirm. "Come on, Emily. Ask for it."

Emily’s breath hitches, her nails digging into the sheets, her body shaking beneath you. But she’s still clinging to control, still trying to hold onto her pride.

So you make it worse.

You barely brush your fingers over her clit, the softest, most infuriating tease, and Emily whimpers. It’s quiet, barely audible but you hear it. And it’s the hottest fucking thing.

"You’re so wet for me," you whisper, dragging your lips down her throat, your fingers spreading her open but not giving her what she needs. "I could just stay here all night, watching you squirm."

"Jesus fuck," she rasps, her hips rolling up, chasing your touch. "Please --"

You pause.

Oh.

Your smirk widens as you lift your head, staring down at her. "Please, what?"

Emily glares at you, her dark eyes flashing, but it’s weakened now. She’s panting, her body trembling, her thighs shaking with need. She wants it, but more than that, she needs it.

"Say it," you demand, slipping just the tip of one finger inside her before pulling back out, watching the way her body jerks.

Emily breaks.

"Fuck me," she gasps, her voice wrecked, desperate. "Please - just - fuck me."

And fuck, you’re gone.

You thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying two fingers inside her, deep, stretching her open, and Emily screams. Her back arches violently off the bed, her hands flying to grip your arms, her nails raking down your skin as she clenches around you.

"Jesus, fuck --" she gasps, her head tipping back, her entire body trembling beneath you.

You don’t give her time to recover. You fuck her, hard, deep, fast, giving her exactly what she begged for, what she needs. Her moans are loud now, wrecked, raw, and you love it, live for it.

"That’s it," you growl, lips dragging over her jaw, feeling the way her body shakes beneath you. "That’s what you wanted, huh?"

Emily can’t even speak. Her nails dig in deeper, her thighs trembling as you thrust into her harder, faster, relentless.

And when she comes, she screams your name, her entire body shattering beneath you, her walls clenching so tight around your fingers that it nearly makes you dizzy.

You don’t stop until she’s wrecked, until she’s done, until she’s nothing but a trembling, breathless mess beneath you.

And then, finally, you slow, pulling your fingers out of her with a deliberate slowness, dragging one last moan from her lips.

When you meet her gaze, she’s ruined - her eyes dark and hazy, her lips swollen, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.

You grin.

"Good girl," you murmur against her lips.

And Emily?

She just laughs low, breathless and wrecked.

"Round two," she whispers, voice hoarse, hungry. "You’re mine."

And then she flips you again.

Because this?

This is far from over.

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

Every time people try to pretend there’s no existence of racial bias in the way Sydcarmy is dismissed, an angel loses their wings.

You know what’s exhausting? Watching people bend over backward to insist that there are no racist or misogynoir undertones to the way Sydcarmy gets dismissed as a valid ship—let’s just be real for a second.

I understand people who don't ship it or believe in the ship because they prefer to take the show at face value, focus on different dynamics, or interpret relationships in other ways. However, the people who deny any validity to believing their relationship is more than meets the eye? That needs to be addressed.

People will swear up and down that their issue isn’t with Sydney, that they love her, and that they "just think Carmy should go to therapy first"—but then in the same breath, you'll catch them romanticizing the hell out of his dynamic with Claire, a relationship that was unhealthy, regressive, and rooted in avoidance rather than growth. @yannaryartside covers the very strong existence of the Oedipus complex and the fulfillment of Carmy’s mommy issues through Claire’s behavior and manipulation in their relationship, and I agree wholeheartedly.

Let’s talk about the “Carmen needs therapy before a girlfriend” argument. Let’s be real—Carmy needed therapy when he was with Claire too, but nobody seemed to mind that. In fact, everyone around him—Richie, the Faks, even the audience—enabled this idea of Claire as a “good” thing for him, as if she wasn’t feeding into his worst tendencies. And the most infuriating part? Claire was, in fact, manipulative. (Again, covered by @yannaryartside .)

She didn’t do it in an overt, villainous way but used **soft, socially acceptable manipulation**—the kind that gets ignored when it’s coming from a conventionally attractive, non-threatening, quirky white woman.

Claire’s Manipulation: The Softness of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl

People like to act like Claire was just a character who wasn’t well-written or worth the time for analysis, but that was the entire point of her: to feel underwhelming, to feel forced into place. In many ways this is true of course, she's under/not well-written in ways, and people think she was simply there, offering Carmy what she believed (and convinced him to believe) was love, when in reality, she inserted herself into his life in a way that preyed on his vulnerabilities and pre-existing issues.

And before anyone jumps in with "she didn’t do anything wrong!"—let’s actually look at how she operated.

- She sought him out when he wasn’t in a good place.

She made it a point to go out of her way to get his real number after being given a fake one. If course she uses that classic manipulative play it off as a joke move when she threatens him but not the best way to start. I know it's been said before, but can we imagine if the roles were reversed? Would we not think that creepy?

- She made it about her when he was struggling.

When Carmy tried to set a boundary, Claire framed it as him pulling away from her, rather than him dealing with his own issues. She encouraged his avoidance, gave him an easy escape from his problems, and then was surprised—and (validly) hurt—when reality came crashing down. Even when Carmy was harsh in breaking up with her, he was speaking from a place of truth for himself. To be with her, when he was so damaged and not really in a space of genuinely liking her, was bullshit.

- She used nostalgia as a tool.

Claire’s entire presence in Carmy’s life was based on a past version of him that no longer existed. Just as Carmy didn’t really see Claire, but rather a projected version of her shaped by his family (and a little bit of Sydney), Claire didn’t love him—she loved the idea of Carmy she had from childhood. And she expected him to fit back into that mold, to regress into a state where he could blow off work to hang out with her and forget his partnership with Sydney, someone he's meant to work with and has a responsibility to be with. That’s not love. That’s entitlement to a person’s growth—or lack thereof.

And yet, people ignore all this because Claire fits their idea of what a love interest should look like to them. She’s non-threatening, familiar, digestible. They don’t question why she feels right, - white - while Sydney—who actually challenges Carmy, who understands him in ways Claire never could—gets written off as “not romantic.”

Claire, for "clarity" or "peace" (ugh)—is simple. She's the painted picture of a woman who puts others before herself, the quirky manic pixie dream girl inching too close to the camera, sneaking her way into his life. People argue it feels like the same effect Sydney has on Carmy, but it's not the same at all. Claire is easy. For Carmy. He can fuck up, regress, and stay stagnant, and she’ll applaud him for it. "Never ever, ever apologize."

Sydney is the opposite. She calls him on his shit, and she sees him for who he really is. Sydney is the real peace for him (how many times do we need to bring up that damn panic attack, the table scene, and strange currencies? Thank you, @chefkids ).

Phew...

Moving on,

The Hypocrisy of the “Carmy Needs Therapy First" Argument

Back to the “Carmy needs therapy before a relationship” excuse—because wow, is that just selective. People only seem to apply it when Sydney is involved, not when Claire is around. It’s the most transparent double standard imaginable. I’ve seen one too many “I ship Carmy with therapy” memes, and I need to talk about it.😾.

When Carmy was with Claire, he was a mess—but people loved to romanticize it, acting like she was his “breath of fresh air,” even when she was just another distraction. Even he fell for it, tricking himself into believing the false sense of security she contrived for him.

When these people talk about Carmy and Sydney, suddenly it’s “he needs to work on himself first” as if the mere suggestion of them together is too high-stakes to even consider. It’s always “God forbid we have well-written female-male relationships without it being romantic.”

So we prefer shitty romantic relationships between the quirked-up white woman and our white male main character rather than the chemistry, character plot, and dynamic between Syd and Carm? Okay.

It’s not about Carmy’s emotional availability for these people. It’s about who people *want* to see him be available for, and it's not Sydney.

Why Do People Feel So Pressed About Sydcarmy, Anyways?

If Sydney were white—let’s be honest—this wouldn’t even be a conversation. The dynamic is already there. The intimacy, the trust, the undeniable chemistry. Their relationship fits the mold of that slow-burn, work-obsessed partners-to-lovers trope better than any other ship that actually makes it to canon.

But instead, people act like EVEN speculating about it is ridiculous, like the idea of Carmy feeling something deeper for Sydney is somehow beyond the realm of possibility. They’ll call it “forced,” “delusional,” or “just not where the story is going”—as if every single element of storytelling isn’t deliberately crafted to suggest something simmering under the surface. Whether platonic or romantic, it's there. It’s genuine soulmate energy.

They pretend their dismissal of this ship has nothing to do with race, but race is an integral part of the ship because Sydney is a black woman.

It's almost like erasure in itself when they deny it's importance, as if there isn’t a long history of Black women in media being sidelined, desexualized, and treated as expendable when it comes to romance. Sydney isn’t “just a coworker.” She’s not “just his business partner.” She is one of the most important people in his career—and even his life—whether people want to admit it or not.

So yeah, maybe people need to interrogate *why* they can believe in Claire—a character who offered Carmy nothing but regression—but not Sydney, who actually represents something real.

Because if the reason is "Carmy's growth," you're bullshitting.

---

Tags

@fairestbeard @chefkids @thoughtfulchaos773 @yannaryartside

[ironinc]

Rivalry's Reward.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Spider-man/Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ While attending your dream college in New York, you and Peter share a competitive dynamic. Constantly trying to outdo each other in class. However, when you both find yourselves locked in detention together, your tension takes a different turn. With the professor temporarily gone, you're left alone, free to explore the attraction that's been building between you two.

⤷ Oneshot, smut very detailed so here’s the warning. Public sex since it is in a classroom. And lowkey enemies to lovers.

⤷ A/N: This is my first story for Spiderman aka Peter Parker so please do bare with me 😫. Btw this space “__” Is just your name. I just don’t like typing Y/N. Also in this story they are attending college so essentially Peter is aged up to 20 years old. Just wanna make that clear.

⤷ Word count: 2,070

⤷ Special song to add spice: Pretty Little Birds by SZA ft Isaiah Rashad

જ⁀➴

The air in the detention room was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. You sat at the desk, arms crossed, staring daggers at Peter Parker across the room. He leaned back in his chair, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Of course, he had to look so smug. You’d been at each other’s throats all week, competing for the top spot in every class—calculus, chemistry, even gym. And now, here you were, stuck in detention together, the universe’s idea of a cruel joke.

“Still mad about the pop quiz?” Peter quipped, his voice dripping with faux innocence. You could hear the laughter in his tone, and it only fueled your irritation.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward, fingers drumming against the desk. “You only won because you cheated,” you shot back, though you knew it wasn’t true. Peter was annoyingly smart, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Cheated?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “You’re just mad because I outsmarted you. Again.”

The room felt smaller with every passing second, the walls closing in as the heat of your frustration mingled with something else—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a fire neither of you could ignore. You glared at him, your chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. “Outsmarted? Please. You’re just lucky.”

Peter leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a spark in them, a challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re just too stubborn to admit when you’re beat.”

The words hung in the air, charged and electric. Your pulse quickened, and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. But it wasn’t anger. Not entirely. It was something else, something dangerous. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. “I’m not beat,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Not by a long shot.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter’s eyes never left yours, and you could see the shift in them, the way the amusement faded, replaced by something darker, more intense. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, a tension so palpable it felt like it could shatter with a single touch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Peter stood up. You watched him as he walked towards you, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching in your throat as he stopped just inches away. “Prove it,” he said, his voice soft, almost a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. This was Peter Parker, your rival, the boy who drove you crazy in every sense of the word. And yet, here you were, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t explain. You stood up, meeting his gaze head-on, your chin tilted in defiance. “Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “But don’t blame me when you lose.”

Peter’s smirk returned, but it was different this timeless teasing, more predatory. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Oh, I’m not worried about losing,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “I’m more interested in seeing how far you’re willing to go.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your resolve waver. But then, something inside you snapped, a defiance that refused to back down. You stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and looked up into his eyes. “Careful, Parker,” you said, your voice a whisper. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then, his hand was on your waist, pulling you closer, his body flush against yours. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made your head spin and your heart race. “I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice barely audible before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was fierce, desperate, a clash of wills as you gave as good as you got. His hands were everywhere, in your hair, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly, eliciting a low growl from him that sent a shiver down your spine. The desk behind you was cold against your back, but you barely noticed, too consumed by the heat of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, Peter’s eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. “Still think you can outsmart me?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You smirked, your confidence returning as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “This isn’t about smarts, Parker,” you murmured. “This is about who’s in control.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he traced a finger along your jawline. “And who’s in control?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Let’s find out,” you whispered. 

Your fingers found the hem of your shirt and slowly, teasingly, began to pull it up. His eyes followed your every movement, his breath hitching as you revealed more and more of your skin. The tension between you was electric, and you could feel the heat of his gaze as you finally removed the shirt, leaving you in just your bra. 

His eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you had won this round. But Peter wasn’t one to back down. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck.

 “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head back, giving him better access. “Maybe I like dangerous,” you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation. 

His hands moved lower, gripping your hips he pushed you back, pressing your back against the desk. 

His lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. You could feel the heat of his body as he pressed against you, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

Peter smirked against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

You shivered at his words, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. 

His hands moved to your waistband, slowly sliding your pants down your legs. You stepped out of them, your heart racing as he stood back to admire you. “God, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

His hands found your hips again, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. He pulled away, his eyes dark with need as he looked down at you. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his belt. “You,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let you unbuckle his belt, his hands moving to the hem of your panties. “You’re so fucking sexy, __” he murmured, his voice low and rough. 

You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you undid the button on his pants. He stepped out of them, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled you into another kiss. 

The heat of his body against yours was overwhelming, and you moaned softly into his mouth. “Peter," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. 

He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he said, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his cock. "I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

Just from the small touch, he let out a small groan. His lips brushed against your ear. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

 "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you guided him to your entrance.

The anticipation was killing you, every second feeling like an eternity. "Peter," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please." His eyes darkened, and with a low growl, he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. 

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, slow at first, then faster, harder. 

The desk creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the feel of him, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before. "God, you’re so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

“I cannot get enough of you” You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust into you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaking with need. 

"Don’t stop." He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Not a chance," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re mine now." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. 

"I’m close." He smirked, his eyes dark with desire. “Not so fast beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

 You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaky with need as you clung to him. 

"I’m so close." His lips brushed your ear, his voice a growl. "Let go. I’ve got you." And with that, your entire body tensed, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as you came undone beneath him.

 He groaned, his own release following quickly after, not forgetting to pull out of you. His body shuddering against yours. For a moment, you both froze, breaths ragged, hearts pounding as you came down from the high. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the faint tremor in his hands as they gripped your hips.

"Guess I lost this round," you murmured, your voice soft and teasing. Peter chuckled, a low, breathless sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

 "Not a loss," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "Just the start of something new." You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Now," he said, his voice low and filled with promise, "we see who really has the upper hand tonight… Let me take you downtown for a quick swing.” 

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his comment about 'swinging' around the city. Challenged, you nodded in acceptance. He smirked, already eager to one-up you, as your friendly rivalry kicked into high gear once more. 

After quickly getting dressed, you sat down just in time, as the professor walked back into class. It seemed this game of wits would continue, fueled by the tension that lingered between you two.

Mr. Harrington narrowed his gaze at both of you, his stern tone leaving no room for protest. "You two better have put this 'who's smarter' thing behind you."

You and Peter quickly exchanged a knowing look before sharing a mutual chuckle.

"Yeah, we made up, Mr. Harrington. You don't have to worry."

Mr.Harrington reluctantly let the matter drop, resuming the silent detention session. 

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAA!#%$*# - Guys, how did I do? I hope my stories aren't really repetitive but what can I say?? I just know past me would of been sliding down a wall reading this, and that's the best part of this all.

(Credits: 888hnh)

- Please let me know if you want more ᥫ᭡.

[loveandleases]

Everytime I saw a Chris reaction to MC they seem to harbor feelings about them no matter what and I wonder how mc made Chris wanted to settle with someone

Also Lea I want to be an anon again 😭 pretty please 🥺

This is gonna be a lil lengthy so, bare with me.

So, MC didn’t feed into Chris’s need for validation. To them, Chris was just another person. They weren't extraordinary, they didn't hang the stars in the sky. They weren't someone to be idolized. It wasn't as if Chris' wealth could impress MC (because MC already knew their family. They knew the kind of wealth the Clarke's possess.) MC knew Chris, Kara, and Cam. But because those two were always taken on these lavish trips, MC was closer to Cam.

Things changed when MC attended university. Chris and G were stuck sharing a dorm, and Cam was with Peri. So, MC/Chris began spending more time together. (Chris refused to make themself scarce.) The more time they spent together, the more Chris began to see MC in a different light. MC’s lack of awe threw Chris off their game, not only was that unusual- it was infuriating. It became a challenge that they couldn’t ignore. Chris was so used to being catered to and fawned over when MC didn't act as Chris expected, it only caused Chris to become fixated on proving their worth. They craved the validation that MC was withholding from them but giving to others. (cam, g, etc.)

Chris would watch how MC treated Cam, showering him with affection and loyalty. (and eventually G as well.) In the meantime, they were barely acknowledging Chris, and it stung. To Chris, MC's indifference was a threat to their ego. For someone so used to being the center of attention, MC’s refusal to play into that dynamic only made them more intriguing.

Over time, that fixation deepened. Chris saw MC as different, even special, Chris saw how MC's attention/admiration could elevate their sense of self. (ugh, that ego.) In past relationships, Chris barely cared about their partners. Just another face, another name. MC stood out. They were unattainable, and that made Chris want to possess them even more.

In time, in their flawed way, Chris began to care for MC. (it wasn't pure and sure as hell wasn't selfless.) Those feelings lingered. MC wasn't just an object to boost Chris' ego anymore, they became someone that Chris genuinely wanted in their life. Chris cared for MC more than they had expected. The complexity of Chris’s feelings made it difficult to let go, and the idea of MC slipping away felt like losing something important, even if Chris couldn’t fully admit why. (still struggles to)

For the first time, Chris could imagine being happy and settling down. (not to mention having MC would validate Chris' self-worth.) MC represented a lot for Chris: a prize, a challenge, and the promise of something Chris couldn't control. (someone they actually cared about and then of course fucked over.)

[sincerelyriize]

cotton candy | p.wb

“so we just have sex to solve all our problems”

💿now playing: cotton candy by yungblud

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Wonbin, is so fucking stubborn that he never knows when, how or why he should apologise. Good thing he’s good at hot, sweaty make-up sex though.

❯ pairings: wonbin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, angst, smut

❯ words: 1.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, make-up sex, pretty arguing for like a second, wonbin is insufferably stubborn, mention of marking, unprotected sex, lowkey a toxic dynamic oops

an: this fic has absolutely nothing to do with cotton candy, or the song really lol, i was just inspired by this one lyric.

Park Wonbin is stubborn—but not as stubborn as you.

He never thought he’d meet someone who could rival him in that department, let alone end up dating them. It’s a mess, really. Maybe even toxic. Because while he loves every single part of you, when the two of you argue, it’s like fire meeting fire.

It gets nasty. Personal. Downright vicious. Honestly, your friends can’t figure out how you’ve lasted this long—especially since neither of you ever wants to be the first to back down. Apologising? Yeah, no.

Wonbin doesn’t apologise.

But this time, he really should.

It started the same, always does, over something petty like the dishes, or jealousy or when he works long hours and forgets to schedule you in but always seems to have time for the boys. That last one was oddly specific because it’s the exact reason you’ve been screaming at each other in his apartment for the past twenty minutes.

You’d jabbed at his chest with your finger and he’d swatted it away. The fury in his eyes lit aflame, and you weren’t sure you saw an end in sight.

But then he said it.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

That was the end. Because stubborn might as well have been your middle name, and you were ready to make good on his threat—if only his apartment wasn’t so far from yours.

“Fine, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“Fine,” he spat.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed off to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy with anger. You didn’t bother slamming the door—too cliché—but the sharp click of it shutting was enough to drive your point home.

You busied yourself with grabbing whatever you’d brought over—a spare set of clothes, your charger, a few toiletries—but the more you moved around the room, the more frustrated you became. Your hands shook as you stuffed items into your bag, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling.

Yelling would give him too much satisfaction, and satisfaction was the last thing you wanted to give him right now.

You throw yourself onto the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. The covers feel cold, they always do when he’s not there to cuddle you asleep, not that you’d want that right now, you’d technically just broken up—maybe—ugh, you don’t know. He’s too complicated to work out.

Instead, you curl up on your side, the pillow barely softening the tension in your neck. And sleep doesn’t come easily—your mind replays every word, every jab, and that final, infuriating sentence: “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Asshole.

Hours pass, the silence of the apartment punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the city outside. Your phone screen glares at you from the nightstand, but you ignore it. You weren’t about to scroll through social media for comfort—not tonight.

The doorknob turns with a faint click, and the door opens just enough for him to slip inside. The soft rustle of his clothes and the weight of his footsteps tell you exactly who it is.

You don’t move. Don’t look. Just stay still, pretending to be asleep.

And then the bed dips—but it’s not like you can be mad—this is his house, his room, his bed.

Just…why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? You’re not going to apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.

And like you said, Wonbin doesn’t apologise either.

Well…not verbally, at least.

Because within minutes, the shift in the mattress goes from tentative to deliberate. His hand slides across your waist, pulling you flush against him, and before you can even protest, he’s pressing into you—pinning you to the bed, his actions saying everything his pride won’t.

Because when Wonbin knows he’s wrong, he’s bad with words. Instead his body moves against yours, wordlessly pleading for forgiveness the only way he knows how—telling you he regrets what he did.

This is the exact reason he doesn’t apologise. Why should he when he can just fuck you silly and make up?

It’s always from the back after you fight, and you’ve come to understand that it’s because Wonbin doesn’t want to look into your eyes and see any lingering hurt. He's not supposed to be the one that hurts you, he hates it actually.

His hands wrap around your wrists, smashing your palms against the mattress as his slender frame rubs against your back, allowing you to feel every inch of his hot, sweat-soaked skin as he thrusts.

His face finds his favourite place, buried in your nape, because there’s something so possessive about it; and he needs to mark it because he doesn’t want you to leave. He might have said it, yes, but he didn’t mean it. You have to know he didn't mean it.

Your nails dig into the sheets as he licks and sucks, leaving his signature purple love bites across your flesh. You practically mewel into the pillow you’re chewing on when he dips between your shoulder blades and marks there too.

He’s really drilling it home, and you can feel all of the passion and love he has for you poured into his fucking, but it’s almost not enough.

It’s too easy. He’s too easy to forgive considering he hasn’t muttered the word ‘sorry’ since you met him.

But as you turn around to try and even attempt to reprimand him, one look at the crimson tint on his pale complexion and the heavy lidded haze on his eyes has you clenching around his cock. And then the fucker had to go and whimper, the sound so faint and vunberable it was impossible to be mad at him.

“Binnie—” you moan, arching your back to give him a better angle, pushing yourself into his fervent rutting.

Your head rolls against your shoulders, tilting back, needing a better look of him. His unruly black hair damp and sticking to his own face, his lip chewed from biting down. He nuzzles close to your cheek, panting and grunting in your ear and it becomes your undoing.

“Baby, kiss me…” you plead with him for just a little taste, your lips parted, jaw hanging slack and your eyes dazed.

You can’t believe you’re the one begging him right now.

Instead of answering you, Wonbin only grunts and nests his face into your neck, where he kisses and sucks and nibbles on your pulse point as his hips slap against your ass in rapid, needy thrust. He keeps uttering your name, whining it in between his ragged breaths, squeezing both of your wrists until your fingers are tingling.

You can tell that he’s right on the edge, chasing his elusive high deep into your cunt, his sensitive tip twitching and throbbing as it daubs at your inner nerves. Your stomach knots up.

“Oh, fuck, Bin—!”

Wonbin wraps a gentle fist around your neck and guides your face back into the pillows, shushing you breathlessly as he does so. You know why— you’re so damn loud when he fucks you like this, and Wonbin is a jealous man. Your moans are his to hear—not his lousy neighbour who he has seen checking you out a couple of times.

That could start another argument on its own.

As you both settle, your body trembling with aftershocks and his twitching needily, you feel him pull out with a long, shaking moan. Your body reacts, missing the feel of him. You roll onto your back, panting whilst staring at the ceiling and he sits back on his knees.

You look at him and manage a small smile, though his face remains clouded with a frown. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before darting away. You sigh, already knowing what this means—you’ll have to be the one to speak first.

“Baby, c���mere,” you say softly, opening your arms.

It’s all the invitation he needs. Without a word, he slides into your hold, his movements almost hesitant as he rests his head against your chest. He avoids your gaze, even as your fingers thread gently through his damp hair.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice tender and low. “I forgive you. I love you.”

Maybe Park Wonbin was as stubborn as you.

[meanbossart]

So we know Drow and Orin were a thing, but what was Drow’s relationship with Gortash and/or Ketheric like? Asking because I did a little post about my Durge Dude’s relationship with the other chosen recently, wondered what your Durge’s were, and I don’t think you’ve ever told us what Drow’s dynamics and/or history with them so I’m curious

I talked about this a long, long time ago, I think Gortash has a tag in my archive if you want to dig up those old posts. However, while my ideas have remained more or less the same I do think they require some comprehensive updating! So here we go.

Ketheric:

Their relationship might as well have been nonexistent, which kind of seems to be the pattern here for Ketheric among the chosen seeing as he was in this plan for vastly different reasons. DU drow rarely saw the general if not to strategize alongside the others or strut around moonrise towers finding things to scoff at.

Unlike Gortash, Ketheric didn't care for networking or keeping things amicable - he remained cold and uncaring through DU drow's occasional attempts to get a rise out of him, expressing discontent in the lest amusing way possible if nor outright ignoring him. He never extended him a hand or an invitation for brunch, he never spoke a word about himself lest it be used against him - as it happened with the little that had to be shared. The only time DU drow ever saw Ketheric flinch was whenever he expressed his strong desire to go pay Isobel his respects.

Gortash:

DU drow and Gortash were "friends" in the most strained and flimsy sense of the word. Gortash strikes me as a the kind of guy who will forego all dignity if it favors him on the long term, for both practicity's sake and possibly an ingrained penchant for self destruction. DU drow saw this, and the moment he caught onto the fact that he was indispensable for Gortash's plans, he started to pick at him ever so subtly to see how far he could be pushed before breaking. He insulted Gortash's appearance, choices, faith, background, family, he destroyed his property and made a bad job of covering up his tracks on purpose, he sent followers to kill his men in the hopes of seeing him be stressed out about it the next day. It never worked. Gortash still invited him to his dinners, still shook his hand, still remained unambiguously smug - it would be infuriating if it wasn't impressive. Respectful, even.

But even if they were amicable, even if they were on "acceptable terms" and the closest thing each other had to a real, equal friendship, DU drow always saw Gortash as a sniveling child trying to play grown-up; lacking in any real free-will of his own because his pursuits were motivated entirely by a sob-story of a past. Gortash did not fit the britches that he was trying to wear, and DU drow had a sneaking suspicion that if he ever got to the top, to the place where he was trying to be - commander of the world and killer of the universe, side by side with him - that then, then he would finally break; once he realized that all he had accomplished was isolating himself with the most cruel man in the world.

And he dreamed of this day. He fantasized about it. He eagerly awaited to see Gortash's face drop the second he got everything he ever wanted - he got a glint in his eye picturing it whenever they toasted or shared a laugh about their brilliant futures. He loved Gortash like a butcher loves a fat cow that's going to keep in alive during the coming winter. It's still a kind of love. It's always a kind of love with him.

[reiincarnatiion]

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part one

summary : 3 sisters for 3 brothers....right? Azriel believes wholeheartedly that Elain should be his mate and in doing so ignores his deep feelings for you.

🧚‍♀️

a/n : I haven't written in like 6 years since my draco malfoy and kpop fanfictions HAHA so please forgive me I am rusty!! Also I wrote this on my phone eeee

but finally eee I'm so excited to post my first writing on tumblr !! I was always a quotev and wattpad girly but here I am finally... 💗

just writing some rough short stories rn but I'll def write more as I get more comfortable again and into the rhythm! let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

ps: it's not proof read cuz I'm lazy I'm so sorry so please ignore mistakes dearies

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You watched as Azriel bent down to whisper something into Elains ear and you felt a growl beginning to build up in your throat.

You didn't know the mating bond did this ; make one so possessive and jealous that the half-moon nail marks on your palms had become blood red, from gripping your fists too strongly.

"I just don't understand why you can't tell him," a voice whispers next to you. You turn to acknowledge Mor, as she slips in next to you into the booth.

"Because the moment I do, this whole dynamic changes Mor," you whisper back, indicating to the sprawl of people around you.

You guys had come to Rita's once again, to party, drink, kiss and do other nonsense things Cassian had eagerly talked about, whilst pitching the idea to the group. It had started off fun, with everyone talking together but as the night had progressed, they had all paired off. You could see Feyre and Rhys making out in the corner of your eyes and Nesta and Cassian dancing around each other on the club floor. Elain and Azriel had also innocently gotten up and moved to another table, using a range of excuses you hadn't bothered to process.

Even Mor had a female making eyes at her from afar.

"Then change the dynamic, Y/N. I need some excitement in my life," she whispered furiously again and slid out, stalking to the female at the bar.

Groaning you sunk into the booth, left alone to your thoughts plagued by one thing only, Azriel.

The repetitive music slowly faded out, as you downed drink after drink, watching the others around you mingle and grind away into the depths of the night. They would come past your table and say a few words before being dragged away again.

But not once did he come. Not once did he even look in your direction... and it infuriated you.

"You look more miserable than me,"

You blinked, looking up to focus in on the flop of red hair, braids and whizzing metallic eye and a handsome jawline.

"Lucien!!!" you let out a whine, attempting to get up but falling back down in the process, not having realised how much strong alcohol you had consumed in the last hour.

"Woah there stargirl," he slipped in next to you, using the nickname only he used for you.

Lucien and you had met on Starfall, as you had been leaning on the balcony, apparently being half a second from falling over because of your drunk eagerness to "catch one of the stars", and since then, he had named you Stargirl. Your friendship had blossomed due to your matching humour and desire to travel the realms.

His shoulder pressed up against you, his warmth spread through you, making you feel giddy. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or your desperation, as you abruptly laid a hand on his thigh.

If he noticed, he didn't show it as he took a swig of one of the elixirs that you had in your hand.

As he drank, you watched his eyes zero in on his elusive mate and you swore you saw them darken.

His scent visibly changed as he placed the now empty cup back on the table with a lethal fluidness that had you wondering how good he was at controlling his emotions.

"Its a shame we are mated to the wrong people, otherwise you and I would have ruled the world" he whispers, still not looking at you.

Your breath catching in your throat, your heavy heart pangs with emotion, exaggerated from the effects of the ethanol.

"At least she knows you are her mate Lucien... he doesn't even know about me," you miserably mutter.

You feel Luciens hot gaze rest on you as you look up into his deep eyes.

There's no doubt the turmoil of seeing each other's mates together shines in both of your eyes, but behind the pathetic nature of the situation, a force glint shines through his.

"Then why don't we tell him, Y/N," he urges, a smirk growing on his face.

Your heart drops as you make eye contact with Lucien, his eyes glinting with jealousy and anger.

You had never seen Lucien ever break his calm facades, he always would take whatever Elain would throw at him ; why was he so fired up tonight?

"You have always been so kind to Elain and given her time Lucien, why do you want to make her jealous now?" you voice your thoughts, causing him to look away, as you attempt to search his eyes.

Little did you know or feel, the dark cool gaze that had been assessing you since the moment Lucien had slipped in.

If one were to look through your party at this moment in time, the looks of longing and jealously swirling between you and Lucien could easily have been interpreted as longing and hunger for each other. With now, your full body turned to him, intimately touching him, shoulder to shoulder, anyone could mistake you as a couple.

---

Azriel nodded patiently as he listened to Elain talk about the new plants she wished to acquire from the Dawn Court for her garden.

He was trying so hard to listen and be attentive, but it was difficult when his shadows were buzzing about him, even more frantically, with the effects of the alcohol he had been consuming throughout the night.

He knew the amount of pumps of the vanilla perfume you had sprayed onto yourself, he knew how many times you had sighed throughout the night and he knew of the half-moon marks on your hands. His shadows told him everything, even when he didn't want to know.

For he didn't want to know the looks Lucien and you were giving each other, he didn't want to acknowledge the clenching of your thighs or the hand on your thigh or the-

"-So what do you think Azriel?"

Elains sweet voice cut in deeply through his silent spiralling, as he hummed coming back to the present.

Her big doe eyes innocently looked up at him as he racked his brain for what she had been asking about.

"YES I think the plants would be wonderful-," he began, when his shadows started screaming, "Elain excuse me one moment."

He quickly got up, his eyes narrow and jaw clenching as he went to get out of the booth in haste.

Elains eyes followed him and they widened slightly.

Luciens' hands were on your waist, holding you up from behind, as you both made your way to the dance floor, giggling.

---

read [ part two ] here deariess <3

[daydreams-after-dark]

Minho, seungmin, and hyunjin seems really fitting for hatefuck or angry sex tbh 🤔🤔🤔

What do u think and how would they be like, and how did it happen to smth

My sweet dude, thinking about this ask is doing things to me 🥵 I agree these three fit the “hatefucking” agenda perfectly. I want them to put me in my place and fuck me hard!!!

So here is how I imagine if playing out, and I’d love to know your thoughts…

🤬🤬🤬🤬

Minho - Your dynamic with Minho is one full of banter. A push-pull. You see each other as equals - both sarcastic, condescending assholes. The hate fucking is mutual. You give just as good as you get. You tell him he’s useless with his cock, yet you cry his name when you come when he’s hitting you deep. He tells you you’re his little bitch (whatever your gender), but he’s whipped for you, canceling plans in case you call him over to your place. You both pretend you don’t like each other, even despise each other. Sex is just for convenience, and that makes him angry because he wants you to be his and only his. He takes his jealousy out on you, using his cock. The sex is highly explosive because you are both spitting insults at each other the whole time. When he’s had enough of you running your mouth, he face-fucks you brutally. He loves nothing more than shutting you up and seeing tears run down your face while you choke on him. It’s too much for him, and there’s been more than one occasion where he’s almost let slip how much he actually loves you.

Seungmin - You flirt with other men to rile him up and make him angry whilst pretending you didn't do anything wrong. You gas light the fuck out of him, telling him he's imagining things, even though you deliberately wear skimpy clothes and rub yourself up against them and giggle. It's infuriating for him to watch, and when he finally gets you alone, he whispers in your ear how much you're going to pay for your behaviour when you get home. Sometimes he doesn't even get you home. He's been known to pull you behind a pillar at a function and clamp his hand on your mouth while he fucks you. Anyone can walk past. Other times he demands you suck him off while he drives home, or if it's late at night he pulls the car over to fuck you over the hood of of the car. If you do manage to escape punishment until you're actually home, you’re in deep shit. He makes you kneel in front of him where he’ll call you names. Then he’ll cut your clothes off with scissors. He’ll make you straddle him and ride him reverse while he pays no attention to you - like you’re a nuisance. Then, he’ll snap and use all type jealousy and anger to fuel his thrusts. He’ll hold you up by your hair while he slams into you from behind. He doesn’t want to see your face. He just wants to use your holes. That’s what you’re reduced to when he’s hatefucking you.

Hyunjin - You intentionally be a brat to him. tease him, do things deliberately to in annoy him, like move his favourite things, or make it hard for him to concentrate. You get in his face when he’s busy, trying to get his attention. You’re also extremely bombastic and loud when you’re out in a group and all he can do is roll his eyes and bite his lip in irritation. But he looks so sexy when he’s annoyed and so you continue to push his buttons until he can’t ignore you any longer. He retaliates. He bites back. He gets you on your back, caging you in underneath him while he looks at you with disdain. It turns you on. Hatefucking with Hyunjin is intense, sweaty, hard. But it’s not a fast fuck, he takes his time like he’s trying to torture you with his cock. He thrusts into you over and over. You want him to pick up the pace, but he doesn’t give you what you want. He simply watches you, looks you in the eyes, as your impaled with his cock for hours.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 6)

pairing: dark!carol danvers x fem!reader - edging

summary: twisted game of love and control, that carol loves to play

warnings: a bit dark!carol, edging, smut, power dynamics, metaphorical language (lol i tried don´t come at me) and a potentially toxic but deeply loving relationship.

wordcount: 1k

an: i tried something new with writing smut, so i hope you´ll like it, because i did really enjoyed myself:)

You knew what you were walking into the moment Carol's eyes found yours. That steady, predatory gaze, the way she moved with a purpose that sent a shiver through you every time. It was like a mouse walking willingly into a trap, knowing full well that escape was never an option, yet unable to resist. You’d come to her, knowing what it would lead to, the familiar ache of both fear and excitement tugging at your insides.

She loves me, you remind yourself as your hands are pinned above your head, Carol’s fingers tight around your wrists like iron. She does. But as her lips graze your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, it’s hard to ignore the dark edge in her touch, the way she handles you like you're something precious, but also hers. Completely. Entirely. And yet, your mind whispers, this isn’t the way it should be.

But you’d known what you were walking into.

Carol’s breath is warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She whispers something, her voice low, teasing, but there’s a possessiveness that’s undeniable. "I know you like this," she says, and the worst part is, she’s right. The power she has over you, the control, the way she holds you on the edge of everything, it draws you in like a moth to a flame.

You do like it, you realize with a mix of shame and desire twisting inside you. It’s as though she’s the hunter, and you’re her prey, caught and cornered, but loving every second of it. Her eyes darken as she watches your reaction, like she’s savoring your submission, the way your body responds to every subtle move she makes.

But this isn’t right, you think, trying to remind yourself, trying to reason with the part of you that still believes you can resist. I love her. But this... this is too much. You struggle against the feelings, the overwhelming need that’s building inside you as she keeps you teetering on the edge of pleasure, never letting you fall, never letting you have what you so desperately want.

“Carol,” you whisper, barely managing to speak, “this... this isn’t the way.” But your words are weak, crumbling under the weight of your own desire. It’s hard to argue with the way your body betrays you, arching into her touch, wanting more despite the part of you that screams this is dangerous.

Carol chuckles softly, her voice dark and sweet, like honey laced with venom. "Isn't it?" she asks, her lips brushing yours, but she pulls away before you can taste her fully. The denial only intensifies everything, every nerve on fire, every breath harder to take. "You always come back to me. You love this. You love me."

And she's right. You do. But it’s like being caught in quicksand, the more you struggle, the deeper you sink. You wonder if this is what it's like to truly lose yourself in someone, to let go completely, to give them every part of you even when you know it’s dangerous.

Carol keeps you teetering, her hands roaming over your body with an infuriating slowness. You’re so close, and yet she keeps pulling you back, every time you feel the relief coming, she denies you, like she’s savoring your torment. “Not yet, baby,” she whispers, her voice a silken promise. “I’ll decide when.”

Your body trembles, frustration and desire mixing in your veins like poison, but it’s intoxicating. Why can’t I stop? You know this game all too well, yet every time, you’re here again, drawn into her web, your love for her blinding you to the danger.

But isn’t that what you wanted all along?

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but it’s impossible with Carol’s hands still exploring every inch of you like she owns you, because in moments like this, it feels like she does. Your mind races, heart pounding as the edge of pleasure becomes unbearable, and yet you can’t bring yourself to stop her.

“Carol, please…” The words escape your lips before you can stop them, a mixture of desperation and surrender. You hate how weak they sound, how needy, but there’s no room for pride now, not when your body aches for release, and she knows it.

Carol’s lips curl into a wicked smile, her fingers tracing a slow path along your jawline, sending shivers through your body. “Please what?” she teases, her voice low, dangerous, and full of promise. “You want something from me?”

You nod, biting your lip, but the admission feels like stepping further into her trap. And yet, you can’t help it. You’re hers, and you know it. Carol’s gaze darkens, and you feel her power over you like a physical force, drawing you in deeper, making you crave more, even as every instinct screams that you should resist.

“You’re so cute when you beg,” she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. You feel her shift, her body pressing into yours just enough to remind you of her strength, her dominance. Her hands slide lower, but they’re still teasing, still keeping you right at that maddening edge. “But you know I’m not done playing with you yet.”

The frustration coils tighter inside you, the ache growing unbearable. You feel like a toy in her hands, every touch deliberate, every second drawn out to make you burn for her more. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last.

“I… I love you,” you manage to say, as if that might change anything. And it does. Carol pauses for a moment, her expression softening, but only slightly.

“I know you do,” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over yours. “And I love you. That’s why I’ll always take my time with you.” Her voice lowers, darker, full of control. “But you should’ve known better than to think I’d make it easy on you.”

It’s in that moment you realize, that no matter how much you want to break free, no matter how much you might protest, you’ll always come back to her, always fall back into her arms, willingly caught in her trap.

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this, because i really enjoyed writing it:)

[jellykyunnie]

Hello!!! I've been reading ur jinwoo fanfics everyday bc I'm addicted hehe. But though I do have 1 question, and I'd respect any opinions. Do you think Cha Hae-in and our boy jinwoo is fated for e/o? Honestly speaking, she came out of nowhere.. I honestly thought him and his healer friend was gonna be together!(I forgot her name:() it would be cute and good dynamic to see them be together. Hey, Cha Hae-in is gorgeous she's a girlboss like slay. But he literally like ignored(?) or did not respect jinwoo until she found out he was strong. So in my opinion I think Jinwoo would look more good with his old healer friend☹️❤️‍🩹🫂 she looks like she was inlove with jinwoo too.. so I kinda feel bad for her. But I guess whatever makes jinwoo happy‼️ but what do you think?

...I'm gonna get flamed and blocked but here's what i ithink

They could've worked honestly. I get the allure of Power couple but on my personal preferrence i never rlly cared abt that kind of dynamic xD. Jinwoo and Hae-in's dynamic feel so sudden and uh forced? It's rllly jst random. But i never read the novel because im lazy and i read other novels. i heard they have more(?) chemistry there? Ik ppl will flame me for this but I rlly think its complete bullshit that such a wonderful and powerful woman like Cha Hae-in is reduced to just a trophy(by trophy I mean for the mc to get as a reward for his efforts. Hae-in feels like that even tho ik she's more than that, that's rlly how she was used in the plot im srry but i still love her to some degree) for Jinwoo. I heard in the anime they will make her have more personality? But so far all I've seen are jst plain fanservice (The fanservice also applies to Jinwoo //hello miner jinwoo but atleast we have more emotional development with him) Hae-in x Jinwoo for me is a mess. Could've worked but not developed right. As u said, yeah, she appeared out of nowhere. The healer named Juhee is where the real chemistry started really, I like their relationship because Juhee saw Jinwoo at his worst and I'm a sucker for dynamics where the love interest has seen the mc at his lowest point. Jinwoo had a chemistry with her that Hae-in didn't have qq. I wish Hae-in and Jinwoo had a proper development, but for me Juhee still wins in these aspects. But Juhee developed well imo since she chose herself and her happiness. A good-ish way for her to leave the plot but her departure is very sad for me.

Imagine a plot where Juhee discovered Jinwoo in danger and she rushes headfirst in despite her ptsd, wouldn't that be a wonderful plot?

Hae-in shouldn't have been used as a reward for Jinwoo. I really think she should be given a spotlight just for her. It's sour on my mouth that generally if you think of Hae-in it's "Jinwoo's wife" and "Suho's mother" coming to mind instead of this brilliant and awe-inspiring swordswoman who dominates the hunter industry. It's so infuriating that she's rlly jst for waifu uses;;. So yeah, that's my take. Jinwoo x Hae-in doesn't really work for me and it randomly appeared. Juhee x Jinwoo will forever be a plot I will never stop mourning.(ALSO TY FOR LIKING MY WORKS HAHAH QWQ!!!)

so all in all, nope, not fated, the reader have more dynamics with jinwoo atp

[rizzmura]

under your skin; we can't stay away

enemy!niki x fem!reader

warnings: strong language, mild sexual tension, suggestive themes, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, light teasing/flirting, angst, heated banter, emotionally charged moments

w.c.: 3.1k

chapter five synopsis: after pulling back for a while, you and niki can’t seem to stay apart. the tension is too much, and the desire to be close to him is overwhelming. this time, it’s not a fight—it's passion. but just as things start to make sense, old wounds and insecurities threaten to tear you apart again.

you told yourself you wouldn’t let him get to you again. you swore you were done playing whatever game this was. but despite your best efforts, the moment niki walked into the café again the next day, you felt that same electric pull, as if the universe itself was conspiring against you.

he didn’t sit down right away. instead, he lingered near the counter, ordering his usual before casually glancing over at you, like he just happened to notice you sitting there—like he wasn’t here for a reason.

you rolled your eyes, determined to ignore him. you had work to do, actual things to focus on that didn’t involve his smug face or his frustratingly charming smirk. but ignoring niki was like trying to ignore a storm brewing in the distance—you could pretend it wasn’t there, but you knew it was coming for you regardless.

sure enough, a few moments later, he slid into the seat across from you, setting his drink down with an infuriating amount of confidence.

“morning, sweetheart.”

“do you have to call me that?” you muttered, not looking up from your screen.

“would you rather i call you something else?”

“i’d rather you not talk to me at all.”

niki chuckled, completely unfazed. “too bad. i like talking to you.”

you exhaled sharply, refusing to meet his gaze. “i have work to do.”

“so work.”

“that’s the plan.”

“fine. i’ll just sit here quietly, then.”

you knew that was a lie. niki? quiet? impossible. yet, for a few minutes, he actually didn’t say anything. the silence between you was unnerving, almost worse than his usual teasing. you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his presence pressing against the edges of your focus, making it impossible to concentrate.

finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. you looked up, narrowing your eyes at him. “what?”

he grinned, like he was waiting for you to break first. “nothing. just enjoying the view.”

your face heated, and you hated how easily he could fluster you. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, you haven’t told me to leave.”

that shut you up. because he was right. you could have told him to go. could have walked away yourself. but you didn’t. and you hated the realization that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want him to.

a heavy sigh escaped you as you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. “what do you want, niki?”

he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his gaze locking onto yours with a quiet intensity that caught you off guard. “you really don’t know?”

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t have a snarky response. because, deep down, you did know. you just weren’t ready to admit it.

niki smirked, sensing your hesitation. “take your time, sweetheart. i’ll be here when you figure it out.”

and with that, he stood up, grabbing his drink before walking away, leaving you there—heart pounding, mind spinning, and no closer to understanding what the hell you were supposed to do about him.

you were finally done with your work, heading home when you saw it through a window leading to a restaurant. niki. his usual swagger was in full force, but there was something different—something that made your stomach twist. he was with someone. a girl.

you knew her. she was in a couple of your classes, but that didn’t matter. what mattered was the way niki was looking at her.

he was smiling. that smile—the one that you recognized. the same one he’d worn when he’d kissed you. and the way his hand was resting on the back of her chair—it was all too familiar.

your heart dropped, a knot forming in your stomach. you quickly looked away, pretending like you hadn’t seen them. but the truth was, you couldn’t stop staring. couldn’t stop noticing how easily niki seemed to slip into this casual intimacy with someone else. it made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

you knew you shouldn’t care. you had no right to feel anything about it. you weren’t together. hell, you weren’t even sure what you were. but there it was—the sting of jealousy, sharp and unexpected.

you watched them for a few more moments, trying to control your breathing, trying to ignore the way your emotions were all over the place. you told yourself it was nothing, that niki didn’t owe you anything, that you had no claim over him.

but still, it hurt. more than you cared to admit.

and then, just as you were about to look away and leave, you saw it.

niki leaned in. his lips brushed the girl’s lips, a soft kiss that was more tender than anything you’d ever shared with him. it was the kind of kiss that spoke volumes—a kiss of affection, of care, of something deeper than the quick, heated moments you’d shared in the past.

it hit you like a freight train.

for the first time since all of this began, you felt truly… insignificant. it was as if the bubble you’d been living in had burst, and the reality of the situation hit you full force. you weren’t the one he cared for. you weren’t the one he was looking at when his eyes softened. you weren’t the one he wanted.

it didn’t matter how many times he kissed you. it didn’t matter how much you had almost let yourself believe something real was happening between the two of you. he was clearly looking for something else. something—someone—else.

niki turned and looked out the window, looking straight at you. his smile dropped and his eyes softened.

without thinking, you grabbed your bag tighter, leaving the overwhelming mix of emotions behind.

later that night, you couldn’t stop replaying the scene in your head. the smile. the kiss. how easy it had been for niki to move on to someone else. you couldn’t wrap your mind around it. how had you let yourself get so caught up in this mess?

you stared at your phone, willing yourself not to text him, to ask him what the hell that was supposed to mean. but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. you didn’t have the right. you weren’t even sure what you wanted to hear.

still, as you scrolled through your messages, you saw his name pop up. it had been a while since you’d heard from him. you considered ignoring it. you considered pretending like nothing had happened. but then your thumb hovered over the message, and for a split second, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could find some kind of closure.

please can we talk…

you hadn’t spoken to niki in days—not since that night. not since you saw him kissing someone else. the memory burned in your mind, an endless loop of betrayal and frustration. you told yourself it shouldn’t hurt, that it didn’t mean anything. you weren’t together. he wasn’t yours.

so why did it feel like he had ripped something from you?

the ache settled deep in your chest as you sat in your usual spot at the café, staring blankly at your laptop screen. you were supposed to be working, but your mind refused to cooperate. instead, it replayed every moment between you and niki, from the first time he walked into your life to the last time he walked away.

and then, as if summoned by your thoughts, he was there.

niki slid into the seat across from you without a word, his presence an immediate disruption to your fragile sense of peace. you refused to look up, keeping your eyes locked on the screen. maybe if you ignored him, he’d get the hint and leave.

but of course, niki never took the hint.

“are you seriously going to pretend like I don’t exist?” his voice was low, testing.

“yes.”

he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “look, i know you’re pissed at me.”

“pissed at you?” you let out a dry laugh, finally meeting his gaze. “why would i be pissed? you can do whatever the hell you want, right? it’s not like we’re anything.”

the words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you forced yourself to say them. niki, however, didn’t look convinced. his eyes darkened, and for the first time, he looked almost... regretful.

“it wasn’t what you think,” he murmured.

“oh? so you didn’t kiss her?”

he hesitated. “i did.”

“right. so it’s exactly what i think.”

you pushed your chair back, grabbing your bag. you weren’t going to do this. you weren’t going to let him sit here and try to make excuses for something that shouldn’t even matter to you.

except it did. and that was the problem.

but before you could walk away, niki reached out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. the touch sent a shock through your system, and you hated how easily he affected you.

“let me explain,” he said softly.

you stared at him, torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to stay. the look in his eyes was different this time. less cocky. more... desperate.

“i didn’t want to kiss her,” he admitted. “i was pissed. i was trying to distract myself.”

“from what?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

his grip on your wrist tightened slightly. “from you.”

the air between you grew thick, heavy with unspoken words and buried emotions. your heart pounded so hard it hurt, but you couldn’t look away from him.

“you drive me insane,” niki continued, his voice rough. “i don’t know what to do with you. i don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

your breath caught, every defense you had built up threatening to shatter. this wasn’t just a game anymore. this was real. raw. terrifying.

“then stop,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you knew you didn’t mean it.

niki shook his head. “you and i both know that’s not happening.”

and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours.

this time, there was no hesitation. no anger. just need. pure, undeniable need. your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling as he pulled you closer, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he let go.

and maybe, just maybe, you were afraid of the same thing.

because no matter how much you fought it, no matter how hard you tried to push him away...

you couldn’t stay away from him either.

《》

@ramenoil @strawberrynull @si3rren @rikidaze @yangjungwonnie @hehabi @ijustreallylike2read

[asmallmoon333]

Another Death Note AU I love to think about: Fem!Light x Male!L.

I adore these two in any form, but the potential of this dynamic in particular had me thinking plots that had my brain noodles excited since way back when I was in the middle of writing Time Speaks.

Now, L's gender wouldn't change anything about him, not really, but Light? Oh, it would be a whole new act for her to put on. And with L still male, it ensures it's not just a repeat of canon, but a whole new exploration of their characters, their dynamic, and the world they live in.

So in this AU, we have a Light Yagami who grew up in a society that told her she was lesser. That implied her gender was predictive of her place and abilities. But she wouldn't actually have a lot of anger about her gender I feel, since that goes against her natural feelings of superiority based on her intellect, so she'd just see it as the world being wrong as usual (rotten, if you will). She would look down on men for how easy they were to manipulate; not that anyone else would ever see these thoughts. Except Sayu, who Light raises with care.

Now, while said world would make it harder for her to rise up, Light is someone who gets what she wants and thrives on a challenge. She would use gender as her stepping stone, playing the "good girl" role to perfection.

And she'd be so very good at it. A much better manipulator than male Light.

Now, when she gets the Death Note, the story goes about the same at the start because Light Yagami is Light Yagami regardless.

Then in comes L, the first person who bested her, the first person she hates, and the plot changes. L is the only person, the only man, who looks at her and sees Kira. The only man who is deadpanned and blank to her "good girl" act and meets her provocation for provocation. Infuriating her every time they meet simply by being as smart as she is. By looking at her pointedly crossed arms, at her 'casual' forward-leaning posture, at her inviting smile--and blandly asking if her back hurts like his sometimes does.

How dare he.

How dare he see and value and fear her for her intelligence? He is certain she is Kira despite how aghast every other man and woman in her life is about the very idea of it.

They call L mad. Sexist. He ignores them and insists he's right, that no one else could be Kira but Light. That she's perfect.

And Light? She hates him for seeing through her. He scares her right back.

But she also can't stop herself from craving the acknowledgement.

The game between them would be so different and yet just as complicated this time, because while the two of them don't care about gender, they know this about each other, the rest of the world is not at their level and can't stop their bias about it. And Light uses that to her advantage; Kira will use any shield.

While L will do his best to strip her bare of all her lies.

So Light plays with the world's perceptions of womanhood in her war against L, using her 'weak' gender and 'need for protection' to manipulate the police against him. While L continues to pursue his Kira with a single-minded focus and certainty. He knows it's her.

But now he has to work even harder to prove it because no one is willing to listen to him. He has no proof, and in this universe, that means a lot more to the task force.

Light is smug about this, internally of course. She sweetly tells him to give up and start looking for the 'real' Kira.

L blinks at her and says he'll give up when she stops being a serial killer.

Light hates him.

But she also can't stop thinking about him. She can't stop revelling in how he sees her like no one else was ever willing to. And she eventually decides that she'll get him to give into her too, like she's gotten everyone else in her life. She'll make him admit he wants her, too. That he's human just like they all are, that he has feelings. (Just like she does).

She'll give him her attention in a way no one else has ever deserved. And L better appreciate it.

And after that? She'll kill him, of course.

She's Kira. She's pitiless. She plays to win.

But she might as well...enjoy L while he's here.

He's the only one she'd ever want to have in that way.

As for L? Well he's more than willing to play along, in any and all ways Light wants. He's seen her from the start, seen Kira behind her sweet smile, and he's entranced by her as always. He'd want her in any form, and gender is just one more tool of the brilliant mind he'll always be obsessed with, in any universe.

And he's absolutely thrilled at this game.

So, yeah!! I love this AU and one day, I'll write it, but for now thank you to the amazing artist @thanatelle who inspired these current thoughts! His work is so good <3

Fem!Light and Male!L are so very fun.

[askew-d]

i want a modern wangxian au where the story doesn’t finish when they get together. i want chapters and chapters of their dynamics while in a relationship.

i want to see wangxian going in a cinema date and wei wuxian kissing his boyfriend to the point of leaning down to his pants until lan wangji has to forcefully stop him because there are people nearby. i want them discussing over to eat at a fast food chain or at a healthy restaurant friday evening and lan wangji folding when wei wuxian pouts, so they end up with a veggie hamburger, a big mac and a mcflurry on their table (the mcflurry belongs to lan wangji).

i want them giving goodnight kisses to their bunnies before going to sleep. i bet lan wangji likes his showers cold, wei wuxian likes them burning hot, and they always hug each other from behind after it just to annoy the other because of their body temperature.

i want to see lan wangji glaring at jiang cheng from the other side of the dinner table and only showing a nice demeanor when it's jiang yanli who directs her words to him and that infuriates jiang cheng so much that he calls out for memories of when lan wangji used to reject wei wuxian's advances just to be petty. lan wangji hates when they remember how he used to ignore his wei ying.

i want wei wuxian burning their kitchen with a recipe and lan wangji running back home worried wei wuxian got hurt (he just got a slight burn, but he's all pouting about it anyway, and lan wangji showers him in love and care even though their stove definitely got the worst of it and they'll need another one urgently).

i want wei wuxian pranking the juniors he got at work. i want lan wangji or wei wuxian unintentially going viral regarding something stupid. i want lan xichen being the one who takes candid pictures and who appears by surprise in the apartment during moments they're not ready for it.

i want wei wuxian to have ongoing fights with every neighbour: a competition with the upstairs woman who thinks her sex's life is better than theirs, the university student who thinks he can pull a rock song louder than wei wuxian's favorite ones, the left-door hag who thinks she can still hide a dog even if there are explicit rules in the building forbidding it (wei wuxian specifically chose that building because of this rule and he will not let her get away with it), the right-door lady who thinks she can flirt with wei wuxian's man without consequences (nothing that some disappearances of some of her mail can't solve though), and the neighbour at the front door who's definitely into some drug scheme (wei wuxian helps the police out with that).

these are just stupid ideas, but you get me. i want everything about this couple. i need especially this. i need it like the air i breathe. like the sun. like food.