#but she's not at fault for the body swap

[the-maid-of-witchwood]

Gimme your favourite au ideas and who you'd throw into them (or like one au idea you like because you have like the neatest ideas)

Again, I’m gonna pull out a list of AUs I have previously written because I’m way too prepared for this.

Carrie AU 2.0

Has no relation to the first beyond being another play on Carrie. The whole thing takes place at the Starlight Theatre where Ruth ends up playing the lead in Cinderella’s Castle. Zoey, pissed and bitter about playing second fiddle to some dorky soprano, just decides to trash her opening night. Or the one where Zoey takes method acting as the Stepmother too far. (If you’ve seen CC, you’ll know what I’m hinting at). Ruth snaps and wipes out half of Hatchetfield before curtain call.

Also Lautity are here just flirting in the background the entire time. Like, they are the only survivors because they thought the other looked good in this hot all done up and left to make out.

Cinderella’s Castle

The one where Stephanie doesn’t have a good time. I’ve already spoken about it on here but it’s essentially the plot of CC but set in Hatchetfield, with some of the lore weaved in. Just for fun and angst. So you know she’s being dragged through that ringer.

Corpse Bride

Pete is Victor, Grace is Victoria, Steph is Emily. Need I say more?

Crossed Timelines

Having been killed by Max, Ruth and Richie wake up in some random location with Pete, Steph and Grace. But it’s not their Pete, Steph and Grace. It’s the ones from another universe where Max killed them three instead of Ruth and Richie. Basically everyone argues who had it worst and trauma bonds. Essentially reincarnation.

Dæmons (His Dark Materials)

Just shenanigans involving everyone having dæmons. That’s it. Mainly fluff and chaos.

Dirty Dudes Must Die

Written as a mock Nightmare Time episode. Essentially follows Steph discovering the guys at school being shitty to Grace, the school refusing to do anything, Grace getting kicked out of home for ‘sleeping around’ and subsequently her deciding to take revenge. Only things go horribly wrong and she ends up with four bodies on her hands. Fortunately the nerds who keep getting in the way are more than happy to help.

Hatchet Swung the Other Way

Gabe is the bully and everything changes. Not really. Essentially just a role swap: the cool kids are now the losers and vice versa, Gabe - Max, Grace - Steph, Steph - Pete, and so on and so forth. Potentially might take place at Abstinence Camp.

Heathers

When Richie said he hated Stephanie Lauter and wanted her dead, he didn’t mean it literally. Would be nice if Max knew that. Also it’s totally unfair that he has to put up with her annoying ghost instead of Max when it wasn’t even his fault she was stupid enough to drink drain cleaner in the first place—

Ride the Cyclone Tearjerker

Six teenagers die at Watcher World. However, Miss Holloway refuses to let Blinky torture all of them - so they reach a deal, she can bring one back to life. However, rather than pick herself, she leaves the decision to the teenagers. Aka, Ruth lets out her inner theatre kid for an hour and a bit; Steph and Richie attempt to kill each other a second time; Grace has a mental breakdown/crisis of faith in the corner; Pete is literally the only ‘normal’ one; and Max honestly doesn’t know why he’s here.

Sail Away to Canada

An alternative NPMD ending where they do actually sail away to Canada and get new identities. A lot more slice of life and silly scenarios of them trying to remain undercover… until Solomon drags them back to deal with the mess (Max’s ghost) they left behind. Only there’s one issue: Grace may or may not have lost the winning card of her chastity to Lautski and they might have to aggressively play Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who’s taking the bullet.

Something Fun, Something Tasty

Another alternative NPMD ending where Steph’s sacrifice isn’t the death of what she cherishes most, but they’re humanity. Pete and Grace struggle to adapt to their new life as… whatever the heck they are now. Monsters? Pets? Vessels? Steph just feels incredibly guilty; she’s also kinda the new Miss Holloway.

Take a Walk in My Shoes

Steph and Grace wake up in each other’s bodies in what they think is just a random nightmare. With the help of Pete, they slowly uncover that there’s something a lot more sinister going on at Abstinence Camp. And maybe a certain deal that was stuck between Mayor Lauter and the Jerries over a black book…

The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

Essentially TGWDLM but Pete is Paul. And he has the unfortunate fate of losing one girlfriend to the apocalypse, while trying to escape with the other. This definitely isn’t something that’ll be used against him in the final act…

[serqphites]

nothing hurts me more than seeing ellie be written as a stone cold cheating dom who is really rough and mean to her gf, and honestly just lacks personality in general?? let’s not forget that ellie is just a girl who needs her girlfriend!!

18+, mdni, strap-on sex (e! reviving), teeniest bit of angst? oral mentions (r! receiving)

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

gf!ellie who sometimes just wants to be the little spoon! she’s sooo nervous about it for no reason. you’ll obviously poke fun at her for it, reassuring her that it’s not a big deal, but she’ll still never outright ask you to spoon her.

ellie had been hesitant to let you roll away from her tonight, you’d offered her the comfort of spooning you to which she kindly denied with a gentle smile and a shake of her head. figuring it wasn’t that much of a big deal, you said goodnight like normal and i turned away from one another (touching butts as usual). after laying there for a few minutes, the sound of what you can only assume is teeth chattering begins to fill the quiet of your shared bedroom. is that ellie? the thought lingers for a moment until the feeling of ellie’s little butt wriggling against your own drags you from your mind, causing you to look back over your shoulder at her curled up frame in the darkness. “you okay els?” your voice is a gentle whisper, ellie nodding in response to your question before she responds back, her voice too barely above a whisper. “i’m jus’cold” your arm is draped over her waist in seconds, your front pressing up against her back as your face nuzzles into the back of her neck. what ellie wants, ellie gets.

gf!ellie who sometimes just needs a hug. :(

patrol can get overwhelming for her sometimes, exhausting her body and mind to the point she can’t even speak coherent words as her bottom lips quivers, her fingers coming up to pinch her baggy eyes as if to close the dam threatening to overflow. “oh el’s” you coo, reaching out for her just as she crumbles into your arms.

gf!ellie who can never shut up about you. constantly telling jesse about how much of a dork you are and how you “match her dorkegy” (dork energy). poor dina has to always give her advice on how to make you feel better after she’s accidentally upset you for the 2948593923th time, like i said she is just a girl!! joel is usually the one asking ellie about yourself, always wanting to know what the two of you have been getting up to because isn’t he just so dndosjrnd???

gf!ellie who just wants to hold your hand while her tongue sends you to heaven and back. every time you moan her name or just make a noise she likes, squeeze. ellie lovessss squeezes. your hand? she squeezes i. love. you. whenever she can’t say it. your thighs? she can’t keep her hands off. your cheeks? you’re too cute that’s not her fault??

gf!ellie who sometimes just wants you to fill her up with your dick strap.

ploughing into her from behind, ellie propped up on her elbows with her head held low, her pretty whimpers and groans egging you on. “takin’ me s’good el’s, how’s it feel hmm?” you can’t help but poke fun, enjoying the role swap a little too much. “feels s- fuck” poor girl can’t even speak, her words falling apart in the back of her throat. how did you let her do this to you so much? you’ve only just started and she’s just about ready to have a warm bath and watch one of the many movies from her very proud collection.

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[maritoke]

I finally finished them, oh lord. Swap Ancients (and Elder Faerie (he's here along for the ride, poor guy)) for my swap au. They were the ones who had the original souljams firsts, now they're beasts

Some info on Swap Ancients (might change--):

Divine Vanilla Cookie: once a traveling healer blessed by the virtue of knowledge. Through out his travels, he had seen how plagued the world was by evil and cruelty. How many cookies had died young, how many good man had turned bad due to too many woes and problems, how time spared none. But it could be reversed could it not? There were the spells that allowed one to control time. World was cruel yet it was beautiful nontheless. Why not let everyone expierience it? Why not create a paradise on earth where the is no illness nor any woes? Why not erase the very death itself? He was granted immortality, was he not? Is he not benevolent for wanting to share it with others?

Lovebug Lilies Cookie: Once two cookies with separate minds and bodies. Now two souls sharing one vessel. White Lily would always search for the truth. Cookie kind deserved to know why were they created. Despite being granted the virtue of solidarity, her purpose was uncertain to her. Why she? Why not anyone else? In her search she had found Faerie Kingdom, where she befriended their king. But when she was about to leave, Elder Faerie joined her. Not wanting her to possibly face cruel truth alone. When she fell into the raw dough after witnessing the cruelty of their creators Elder Faerie tried to get her out. Sadly he was pushed into it along with her. Now, rebaked as one, they share the idea to keep the truth a secret forever. To sever the connection between the entirety of humankind and cookies. Cookies deserved to not be burdened with such pitiful legacy.

Berserk Cacao Cookie: How one responds in the most critical moments can say a lot about a person. Fear is one of the most basic emotions, and true warrior keeps going despite dreading the outcome of the battle. The stronger the enemy the more fear he strikes into his opponent. Dark Cacao was once known as the strongest warrior and king. The stories of him inspired both awe and striked fear. Though, as the climate got harsher and harsher, the cratures got more and more vile, until finally two dragons became a threat. And Dark Cacao would protect his people regardless of what they thought of him. After all no one would dare to attack the dragon slayer. In face of fear, one fights, freezes or flees. And he would always fight. For outsiders shall dread the king who won't back down. Who won't stop until the threat is gone.

Claretberry Cookie: The ever joyous queen, chershied each and every moment she spend with her friends and family. However as time went on she saw many of her friends and family grow old. Time and time again. Outliving them repeatedly. The joy soon started to fade away leaving only an empty space. So she slowly gave in to pleasure. Be it from drinking juice, throwing a thousandth party, or fighting for fun. It did bring her pleasure. It wasn't the same as real happiness, but it was good. It numbed the mind and filled it with forced dopamine. And her people? Well, Hollyberry Kingdom was always well known for being full of various sorts of entertainment. The decadency started to grow on others almost seemlessly.

Radiant Cheese Cookie: Ever as greedy, she cared for her kingdom the most. She brought good change to everyone but saved the best for her own. However not all change is good, and sooner or later even the strongest of empires need to fall. Be it because of a foe from the outside... or because of the fault within. She refused to let her kingdom fall, and so she started to plunder nearby cities for their goods and resources. After all she needed them more. Her people needed them more. With time, the need turned into want. For she'd rather take from others than see her kingdom change, see it rust. It is pure gold to her. And everyone knows pure gold cannot possibly rust or tarnish.

[musings-of-a-rose]

I got an idea for a soul mate type thing with Benny and a girl who works at a coffee shop, as for the soul mate part, maybe every time one person is injured the injury appears on the other person’s in the same spot but as flowers. Oh! With Benny being an MMA fighter he gets punched a lot and it affects his soul mate, so when he goes to her place to tell her about his fight, he sees her covered in flowers that are similar to the bruises on him and it turns inti the soul mate thing dawning on him and him apologizing profusely and her telling him that it wasn’t his fault . Maybe just a tad fluffy at the end

(I also really like your one shots, they’re very good. Thank you

SoulMMAtes

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 1865

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Sorry this took so long to get to! I've never written a soulmate au and then I wrote it but we all got sick! I hope this is what you're looking for.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Cappucino for Keith!” I project out at the handful of people waiting, a middle aged man coming forward, phone glued to his ear as he snaps his fingers at me, yanking the coffee from my hand and leaving without a word to me. 

“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath, moving to take the next order. 

I glance at the ticket and look for what I need, only to find the container empty. I sigh internally and head to the back room, my eyes scanning the shelf to locate the right syrup bottle. Which happens to be on the top shelf. I reach up to grab the bottle, my coworker, Amy, coming in behind me. 

“More flowers?” She points to where my shirt had ridden up, the bottom of a bloom of flowers just visible under the hem. I grab the syrup bottle and stand straight, lifting my shirt slightly to show her the rest. “Your soulmate is either clumsy as fuck or really loves to get beat up.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, that would be my luck.”

“Still no idea who it is?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Do they hurt still?”

I shrug. “They used to. Now I guess I’m used to it.”

I remember being told about soul mates and our attachment to each other, any pain the other receives will show up on their mate’s bodies in the form of beautiful flower tattoos. They did not mention that pain often comes with it. The first time they appeared, it was my right eye. I missed class and called out of work for a few days. Supposedly, the flowers are to give you a clue as to who your mate is. How it helps, I’m not entirely sure, since I still haven’t found my soulmate yet. 

I follow Amy out of the backroom, bottle of syrup in hand, swapping it out with the old one. Some time passes, and then I hear my favorite regular’s voice placing his order. I look up just as Benny walks to my end of the counter, all blue eyes and a big smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart! Do you ever go home?”

I smile, looking away from the intensity of his gaze for a moment. “Nah. I sleep in the back on top of the bags of beans.”

Benny chuckles and my stomach flips. “Is that why your coffee tastes the best?”

Fuck. Why can’t he be my soulmate?

“I sneak hard core drugs into yours so you’ll keep coming back for more.”

A smile stretches across his face, his eyes darkening slightly. “I’ll come for you anytime.”

I can feel the heat in my cheeks, spreading across my face. I turn, trying to hide it and the smirk on my face as I busy myself with his regular order. I feel a small tug at my heart, a yearning for this man that I know I’m not matched with. I school my face and turn back, handing him his coffee. 

“Well that’s good to know. It’ll save me money. But my dealer may not be happy.”

Benny laughs, his eyes twinkling as he opens his mouth to say something. But then another blonde man walks up to him, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “You ready to go, Ben?”

Is it just me or does Benny look a little…sad? He turns towards the man and nods. “Yeah. Oh, Will. This my favorite barista in the world. This is my brother, Will.” 

He sticks his hand out and I take it briefly, noting the firm grip. “Nice to meet you, darlin’.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Will turns to Benny, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “We gotta go now or you’re gonna be late.” 

Benny glances at his watch. “Shit. Yeah, ok.” He looks at me, a little sadness in his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I feel like my heart is in a wrench. Get over yourself. He’s not even your soulmate. I plaster on a smile that I hope seems genuine. “I’ll be here!”

—----

That night was one of the worst nights in a while. I just barely make it home before the pains start, first across my ribs, then a knee, my cheek, and my eye. The pain is more intense than it has been, and I throw my bag down, kicking off my shoes just to drop my body onto my bed. Smaller flower tattoos erupt across my body for next few minutes, the pain eventually fading into the background as I curl in the fetal position, wondering what the hell my soulmate is doing. Eventually, somehow, I fall asleep.

—----

The morning sun shines through the blinds on my face and I blink awake, stretching my cramped limbs. It’s a moment before I remember why I was in this position. I drag myself into the bathroom, shedding off all my clothes and step in front of the mirror to assess the marks. There are small, lighter ones scattered around my body, mostly on my torso, with the one on my ribs bright and beautiful. Thankfully, the flowers on my face have faded, for the most part. Gently, I touch them, a tear slowly falling down my cheek, thinking about what might have happened to my soulmate. 

I reach for my phone and call my manager, explaining that I can’t come in today. They weren’t having it though, telling me that I’m closing and they’ll see me tonight. Sighing, I hang up the phone and try my best to cover up the gorgeous marks, wondering and hoping that my soulmate is ok. 

—----

The only thing that was getting me through my shift was the thought of maybe seeing Benny. The doors open and close, people coming and going, none of whom are the man I want to see. I shouldn’t want to see him, but I do. About 10 minutes from closing, the last of the customers file out, one of the men laughing loudly and punching his friend in the arm as the door closes behind them. I sigh, moving to start the closing routine, especially since I’m alone. It was so slow, I let the other employee go home early to be with her kid. The door opens as I’m about to dump the remaining coffee. I turn and am met with familiar bright blue eyes, sweaty hair plastered to his face.

“Did I make it?” Benny is trying hard to make it look like he isn’t breathing heavy.

I’m happy to see him, but also worried. “Yeah but..are you ok?”

He nods, slight pain in his eyes that he desperately tries to bury. “ ‘m good.”

There’s silence for a few moments as I watch him try to fight for his life with the breathing. “I’d make you our usual, but honestly that coffee has been sitting a while. You should probably have a decaf tea anyway.”

Benny nods. “Sounds good.”

I turn away from him, hearing him suck some air quickly through his teeth. A little sharp jab in my side reminds me that I’m nearly overdue for another round of pain killers. I head towards our tea shelf. 

“Slow night?” Benny asks.

“Yeah. It’s never busy on these nights.”

I scan the jars on the counter, naturally finding the chamomile on the highest shelf. Sighing, I stand on my tip toes, my arm outstretched to reach the box. My fingertips graze it when I hear Benny move, his shoes thudding across the floor as he comes around the counter. 

“What is that?” He asks, suddenly behind me and the closest he’s ever been. Fuck he smells so good. 

I glance back over my shoulder, tea bag in hand as I mange to turn in place. “Uh…what?”

Benny points to my back, where my shirt had ridden up while reaching for the tea. “The marks.”

My cheeks flush and I look away from him. “Oh, it’s uh…a tatt…too?” Great. That sounded convincing. 

“Show me.” It wasn’t a demand, but it didn’t feel like a request. I swallow the lump in my throat. I know that once he sees the marks, he won’t come back. Why would he waste his time when he could be finding his soul mate?

“It’s nothing, really. A dumb idea when I was younger.”

His eyes soften slightly, his eyebrows pulling together to do that stupid look that makes me go weak. “Can I see?”

We watch each other for a long moment before I nod, turning my back towards him and raising my shirt to show off the beautiful flowers that bloom across my ribs. His fingertips brush against the marks and my body tingles, shivers shooting through ever nerve in my body, my stomach feeling like it’s full of butterflies. 

“I…I am so sorry, sweetheart.”

I turn back to him as he takes a step back, my heart clenching at his movement. “Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t fucking think about…I didn’t realize…holy shit but yeah of course! Oh fuck this makes sense!” The concern is battling with a dawning realization on his face.

“Benny, what-” He grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, his chest bare. 

And covered in bruises and nicks. 

My eyes widen as I see the darkest and most prominent bruise, splayed across his ribs exactly where my flower marks are. As my eyes roam across his torso, my hands touch places on my body where the marks are, each one of them identical to the bruises on Benny. 

“You?” I whisper, my eyes finally landing on his. 

He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Me.” He holds a hand up, palm facing me and I press my hand to his. The same feeling shoots back through me, my nerves alight, butterflies bursting from my stomach, but also a sense of coming home, being safe, warm, and loved. Benny steps closer to me, lightly gripping my ribs and pulling me close to him. With his other hand, he brushes some stray hair from my face, tipping my chin up to him as he places the softest kiss on my lips. Everything slides into place - the way I always felt drawn to him, why my body was physically reacting to him in more ways than one, why I couldn’t stop thinking about him once I’d seen him. His embrace feels exactly where I belong. 

I pull back, his eyes searching mine. 

“Are you a terrible ninja or something?”

Benny laughs, his whole body shaking with it. “Nothing cool like that. Just MMA.”

“Are you terrible or?” My eyebrow cocks up and he smirks. 

“I win every fight. I just know how to take a punch.”

“Well could you maybe take a few less from now on?”

Benny smiles. “No need, sweetheart. I’ll quit. I don’t want you in pain for my stupid mistakes.”

He presses his lips to mine again, moaning slightly into the kiss. But then he inhales sharply, hissing out. I feel the twinge in my ribs and I know he’s hurting. 

“Ok, let me clean this place up and then I’m taking care of you. Got it?”

Benny smirks, his eyes twinkling. “Yes ma’am.”

-------

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[lessersole]

The Catch - Part Three

Pairing: Thunderbolt!Bucky x Reader, platonic Yelena

Summary: After being rescued by Bucky and Yelena, the three of you need to deal with the aftermath.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: Panic attack, creepy Rumlow again. No Thunderbolts spoilers - just the characters.

Part two

------------

You and Bucky are still entwined, kissing and grasping at each other like you can’t get enough, when there's a rhythmic knock at the door - which you both ignore. It comes again, louder, and you reluctantly pull away a little, Bucky’s lips chasing yours as you mutter, “Should we check that?”

“She can wait,” Bucky growls, pulling you back. Unable to resist, you melt against him until Yelena's voice, only slightly muffled from the outside, calls out, “You better have a really, really good reason for why you're not answering the door right now.”

Bucky sighs and you chuckle guiltily as you peel yourself off him and reach for the door handle. Before you’ve got it even part way open, a bundle of blonde hair and black leather barrels through it, tackling you in a fierce hug.

“You’re okay! You’re definitely okay?” Taking your face in her hands, Yelena examines you carefully.

“I’m okay,” you reassure her, pulling her back into the hug when you notice the tears shining in her eyes. “I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” she pouts, not entirely convinced. “I am going to do so much to make this up to you.”

“There’s nothing for you to make up for,” you insist, knowing how bad she’d already felt about getting you mixed up in all the trouble. “This was all the bad guys. And me agreeing to do something stupid, I guess-”

Both Yelena and Bucky noisily protest this, but you keep talking.

“I did! Something felt really off tonight with Brock-” you’re fairly sure you hear Bucky snarl at his name, “I should have trusted my instincts and I didn’t.”

“We’ll deal with him.” Bucky growls darkly, swapping a meaningful look with Yelena.

“But everything,” Yelena shakes you gently to emphasise her words, “Val sending you out as bait, putting you at risk-”

“Was something I agreed to,” you interrupt.

“Because of me!” She nearly wails.

“No, Yelena,” You grip her hands intently, “None of it was your fault. And even if I am slightly more at risk from being your friend, I agreed to that too when I moved in with you - I mean, there had to be some catch to getting you as a roommate and best friend. And I wouldn’t go back or change it for the world. I love you.”

Sniffling slightly, Yelena nods, satisfied for now. “I love you too.”

“I mean, if you want to apologise for something,” you add with a smirk, “you could apologise for interrupting me and Bucky just now.”

“Ew,” Yelena wrinkles her nose in theatrical disgust, then smacks Bucky’s shoulder.

“Ow.” He deadpans.

“It is not okay to take advantage of her like that, she has been through a lot and she just got rescued!”

“Hey, he wasn’t taking advantage of anything, I started it.” You object with a laugh.

“You started it, he started it, whatever, I don’t care,” Yelena turns to you with a stern look, “It is very late, you’ve had a crazy day, and you should go to sleep.”

As if her order reminds your body, your earlier tiredness rushes back to you. “But there’s three of us and only one bed,” you argue quietly as she ushers you towards it.

“Not a problem,” she shrugs, “One bed, one sleeping person, who is you.

“I bet it’s been a long day for you too, both of you-”

“So we’ll take turns.”

“One of us can keep watch.” Bucky joins in. “The rest of the team’s handling the gang at the base and we weren’t followed, but just in case.”

“See? Perfect.” Yelena’s shoved you into the bed at this point and is tightly tucking you in.

“We’ll keep you safe.” Bucky promises softly.

Giving in to your rescuers and your exhaustion, you’re fast asleep the minute you close your eyes.

Once they’re certain you’re sleeping deeply, Bucky and Yelena retreat to the corner of the room.

“What’s the latest?” Bucky asks in a whisper, “They were definitely all trapped in the base?”

“Definitely,” Yelena nods. “The team’s doing a full sweep of the area to make sure, but satellite video shows no one leaving before or after we got there. They’ve got the head - they’re going to put them all away. They’re done, hundred percent.”

“Good. And Rumlow?”

“Not so good news there. He wasn’t at the base, but he left the party before anyone knew to look for him. There’s no sign of him there.”

Bucky clenches his fist.

“Val wants to wait and see if he turns up on Monday.”

“What?”

“Apparently, he might not know his little plan didn’t work.”

“They can’t count on that!”

Yelena shushes Bucky’s rising voice and they both look over at you, watching as you twitch in your sleep.

“They’re checking the gang’s records of his involvement now,” Yelena continues quietly, gritting her teeth with annoyance at Val’s laidback plan. “We will know more tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow might be too late,” Bucky hisses.

“I know. But what else can we do right now?”

He has no answer to that. “Fine. You get some sleep, I’ll take the first watch.”

—

When you wake the next morning, it takes you a while to remember where you are - or why you’re so sore. You open your eyes to Yelena lying next to you, peaceful as she sleeps. Turning over, you see Bucky on a chair, watchful eyes on the sliver of window visible behind the drapes. At the sound of you stirring he turns, a gentle smile lighting his face as he sees you.

“Morning,” he says quietly.

“Morning,” you whisper back, sitting up with a wince.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” you smile at him, slipping out of bed carefully so as not to wake Yelena. “Have you slept?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t bring pyjamas.”

“Wouldn’t have bothered me.” you tell him teasingly. “What’s the plan for today?”

“We wait for her to wake up,” he nods at your slumbering friend, “then back to the city. We’ve got a de-brief at the Tower.”

A few hours, lots of coffee and a large breakfast later, the three of you are in the main room at the Thunderbolts Watchtower. With nowhere else to go, you’ve joined them for their debrief, and sit quietly while Val shares details of the takedown that continued as you slept. It confirms what they’d already known last night - the criminal organisation has been entirely shut down, every one of them accounted for and in custody - except for Brock Rumlow.

“We’ve hit a little snag with that.” Val underplays, as you sit up straight, fully paying attention.

Yelena and Bucky’s anger is simultaneous and immediate.

“What!?”

“A snag?!”

Val continues. “Turns out there were no records of Brock being involved with the bad guys.”

“Oh come on, there’s no way he wasn’t-”

“What else could he have been doing-”

“One at a time, please,” Val insists, raising her hands. “Or neither at all if you can manage to restrain yourselves.”

“You questioned him, yes?” Yelena asks. “What did he say he was doing?”

“He said he was helping.”

“Helping?” Bucky repeats, incredulous.

“With the plan to find the base. And, well, we can’t argue with the results!” Val’s unperturbed by the sound of cracking knuckles that follows her response.

“The trackers he gave her were all immediately identified and left behind.” Bucky’s eyes briefly alight on you as he fights to keep his voice level. “The only reason we were able to follow her, the only way we even knew she’d been taken, was because she was smart enough to bring an extra that she didn’t tell him about.”

“Which was hidden in a less obvious place,” Val equivocates, “I mean, who wouldn’t leave someone’s phone behind when they’re abducting them? The shoes make it harder for her to run away, the jewellery is the most obvious place to put a microchip-”

“You can’t actually believe Rumlow,” Yelena interrupts.

“Well, I have to. You guys are heroes now, we have to do things the right way. And we have no proof of any wrongdoing!” Val insists.

Bucky pushes out of his chair. “So we get proof.”

“And how do you propose we do that in a legal, above-board way?” Val taunts. “You’re not exactly a plan guy, Bucky, and even Brock’s not stupid enough to leave evidence of criminal collusion lying around in the open.”

The meeting ends pretty soon after that, Val rapidly tiring of the outpouring of acrimony and insisting that the matter is closed.

Bucky and Yelena continue to rant after she leaves, until they notice your silence. The whole thing has exhausted you - you have no idea what you could do about it, and you just want to put it behind you. “I’m safe. We all are. You guys can keep an eye on Brock, or try not to work with him, or both - but there’s nothing any of us can do right now.”

—

Life begins to return to normal. While you look for a new place together in the city, Yelena’s living in the apartment next to you in the Tower - although she stays over at yours almost every night - and you’re going back to work in your office. You go out to meet your friends as normal, always downplaying the weeks you spent in hiding, insisting that your seclusion was an overly cautious reaction to a vague threat against Yelena’s workplace. All fully resolved now, of course.

But you’re still not seeing as much of Bucky as you’d like.

One night, as you’re lying awake in the dark, next to an upside-down Yelena, who’s slowly dropping off to sleep, you bring it up.

“Is Bucky ignoring me?” You blurt out.

“What?” Yelena’s voice is groggy.

“I’ve hardly seen him at all since - since everything, and I thought we’d - well, I thought he’d - I thought he liked me,” you stutter, “Did I cross a line with him? Do something I shouldn’t?”

“How should I know what men think?”

“Yelena!” You press.

She sighs. “You really like him, huh?”

You relive the taste of him on your lips, the feel of his hair between your fingers, his body flush against yours - that soft smile when he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit quietly.

“I think - he’s worried about you.” Yelena explains reluctantly.

“What?” You prop yourself up on your elbows, glaring into the dark. “Why?”

“Because of everything!” You can make out the shadows of Yelena’s arms as she gestures. “You had to hide for weeks, you got double-crossed and captured and abducted-”

“And rescued.” You point out.

“Exactly! Your emotions are all crazy and mixed up right now.” Yelena sits up as well, her voice getting serious. “You’re not like us. This isn’t normal for you. He doesn’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for, that you regret. Or something you feel like you have to do because you ‘owe him one’.”

You can just about see the air quotes around her words. “Have you talked to him about this?”

There’s a moment of silence. “No,” Yelena answers, unconvincingly.

“Yelena!”

“Okay, maybe yes. But only because we both care about you.”

“And I appreciate that, but I’m fine. It’s over!”

“But it is not over for you, I see it.” Yelena’s voice is soft, her words heartfelt. “I see you rushing like a little rabbit every time you leave this room. Because you don’t want to see him.”

You know she’s referring to Rumlow. And you know she’s right, even if you’ve tried to hide it.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t go on a date,” you grumble. “And anyway, all that will be over when we move out.”

“Okay,” Yelena lies back down. “So he can ask you out when we move.”

“Fine.” You flop back against the mattress. “But he definitely likes me?”

“I am sleeping now.”

“I just don’t want to come on too strong, or do something stupid and make an idiot of myself.”

“But you being an idiot is the best part!”

You poke Yelena and she laughs into her pillow. “Don’t worry, he’s crazy about you. Like full cuckoo crazy. If one of you is going to do something stupid, it will probably be him.”

—

It’s not too much longer until you and Yelena find an apartment you’re happy with. With just a few days until you move in, you’re determined to face your fears head on - and make the most of your last access to the free gym in the Tower.

You’re taking a breather halfway through your session, when you notice something in your peripheral and feel a jolt in your chest, like there was a step down where you expected flat ground.

Brock Rumlow calls your name, sauntering over with a slimy grin, “I’ve been wondering when I was going to run into you.”

You're shocked at the panicky rush of shame that floods you. He seems so clearly villainous now, the skeezy way his eyes travel over you in your sweaty workout gear. You spent so much time with him and you never saw it. How could you have believed him? How could you have been so foolish, so stupid, as to trust him with your safety?

Rumlow continues, either not noticing or not caring about your frozen silence. “My brilliant plan to win your freedom works perfectly, and I don’t even get a thank you!”

He’s right in front of you. Every part of you has tightened in defence, your hands a vice grip on your water bottle, your mouth clamped shut, breath constricting, your vision narrowing to a darkness that reminds you of the inside of the trunk of a car, the inside of a black bag. You take a jerky step to the side, instinctively backing away from him.

Rumlow’s expression sours. “You don’t believe those lies about me being in on it? We planned that together! I helped you! I trained you! And now you won’t even workout with me?” He steps towards you with each word, reaching out for your wrist, and you stumble back - and bump into a solid warmth.

Bucky’s voice is rich and clear, leaving no room for argument. “She already has a training partner, Agent.”

Brock stops in his tracks, sneering. “Oh yeah? She was pretty satisfied with me - for weeks - before you showed up.”

Bucky can feel the tension in your body at Rumlow’s allusion, and brushing a hand along your arm, smoothly steps forward, putting himself between you and Brock. “I doubt that. I think you’re done here.”

“Nope,” Rumlow smirks, “I’m just getting started.”

Bucky’s presence grounds you, and you grip the back of his shirt, tugging tightly. “I’m finished anyway.” You mumble, turning to go and dragging him with you. He braces his arm around your back protectively as you leave together.

You’re almost shivering as you make your way back to your apartment, barely feeling the floor beneath your feet.

“Do you want me to get Yelena?” Bucky’s question is gentle as he walks you in.

“No. I don’t want to worry her.” You sit down heavily, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Bucky cautiously pries your water bottle from your hands and goes to pour you a fresh glass.

“I don’t know why I reacted like that.” Your voice is small, and it breaks Bucky’s heart.

“It’s a completely normal response.” He assures you, passing you the water and encouraging you to take a sip. “You’ve been through a lot, and he’s a reminder of that.”

“He’s more than a reminder,” you choke out, setting the glass down before your trembling spills it, “he’s half the cause of it! I wasn’t scared, Bucky. I thought I would be, but…it’s the shame. If I hadn’t been so stupid-”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head vehemently, taking hold of your hands. “Nothing you did was stupid, not even close. You have nothing to be ashamed of. At all. You had every reason to trust him - hell, he’s a vetted agent, he was working with you at the request of the head of the organisation - and you still took precautions. Thinking to bring that extra tracker, hiding it, not telling him about it; that was what saved you. And that was all you. You shouldn't have ever ended up in that situation, but you got yourself out of it.”

“You and Yelena got me out of it. You rescued me.”

“You were the one who made us able to do that.” He insists, quiet but firm. “And we came to find you because we care about you - and that's because of who you are. How much we both like you. So really, that's all you too.”

You give Bucky a watery smile, still not convinced but grateful for his words. He observes you quietly for a moment then, as though reading your mind and seeing exactly what you need, wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, keeping you safe, just like he wanted, and gently strokes your hair, kissing the top of your sweaty head.

“Come on, you should eat something. I make a great post-workout meal.”

“I bet you do.” You tell him with a wonky grin, surreptitiously wiping away the few tears that squeezed past your defenses as he moves to the kitchen area.

The playfully warning look he gives you when he gets your double meaning makes you chuckle weakly - and for now, you’re happy with the plate of eggs he cooks for you.

After some food and a shower, you're doing better. As you think about Bucky’s words, it feels like the hot spray of water pushes your anger away from yourself to a better target. You don't know if there's a post-traumatic equivalent to the five stages of grief, but you seem to have moved rapidly from shame to fury.

Yelena's with Bucky in the living room when you emerge, clean and raging.

“We have to take Rumlow down.”

—

Having a plan has always calmed and focussed you, and with Yelena and Bucky’s support, you’re feeling stronger and more capable than ever. They’ve both noticed this, their shared glances of relief and pride at your recovering wellbeing just a little too quick for you to catch. As long as you can all pull this off, you’re confident you can go back to normal. Maybe even better than normal, now that you've made some new friends.

With Bucky helping, you and Yelena were able to move into your new place within a day, and it didn’t take much longer for the two of you to get settled enough to throw a housewarming party.

You’re setting out the last few snacks as she fiddles with her party playlist when your first guest knocks at the door. Yelena rushes to answer, and a booming Russian-accented voice fills the room. You turn to see the large bearded man you know only from the photos around your shared apartment stride into view, dropping a heavy crate onto your coffee table with thud loud enough to make you worry about your security deposit.

Before you can react, Alexei roars your name, embracing you fiercely. “You are like sister to my Lena, so you are like daughter to me!”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you squeak out.

“Dad, you’re squishing her,” Yelena moans, pushing you apart and pointing to the bottles you can see poking out of the crate. “And what is this?”

“Housewarming gift!” Alexei declares. “Real top shelf quality. Only the best for my girls! We must toast to your new home.”

He picks up the clanking container and moves to the kitchen.

“Wow, that’s a lot of vodka.” You mutter dazedly to Yelena.

She rolls her eyes, not quite hiding the affection she clearly has for her dad, and follows him to the kitchen, where he’s already fondly berating her for not having any stopka glasses.

The next arrivals come immediately after, and you open the door to a bashful man clutching a guinea pig in each hand, and a dark-haired woman with a sardonic smile and multiple packs of beer.

“I think we might be early,” he tells you worriedly before you can greet them, “Ava said for a party late is on time and on time is early, but I didn’t want to be actually late, and I thought we might get lost, and - oh, I’m Bob.”

Bob awkwardly juggles the guinea pigs into one arm so he can shake your hand. You introduce yourself and welcome him in, taking one of the animals from him.

The woman introduces herself as Ava, and is clearly very familiar with Bob’s nervy energy, so calm and cool she seems almost bored.

“What are the guinea pigs for?” You ask in confusion as the three of you join Yelena and Alexei in the living room.

“I told Bob he should bring a housewarming gift,” Ava tells you with a grin.

“They’re adorable,” Yelena coos, gently tickling the one in Bob’s arms.

“I know,” Bob wrinkles his nose fondly at the wriggling creature, “I thought you guys might like a guard dog, but that’s probably not the best pet for an apartment in the middle of the city, and then I remember hearing that pigs are maybe even smarter than dogs, but, well, they’re big too, so I thought - guinea pig! But they get lonely, so I had to get two.”

“They’re perfect, Bob!” Yelena beams at him.

“Did you bring cage for the pigs?” Alexei asks, leaning down to inspect them.

“Oh,” Bob looks at Ava, “I didn’t think-”

“They’re free range guinea pigs.” She announces.

“Then you eat them?” Alexei licks his lips.

“No!” You all shout in horrified unison. Yelena pulls them both towards her, cradling them carefully before looking suspiciously at Ava. “You told Bob to bring a present, what did you bring?”

“My presence is my present.” She announces. “Plus, I'm going to help you decorate.”

Yelena frowns, looking around at the furniture and pictures already filling your apartment. “We did decorate.”

“Did you?” Ava throws an arm over your shoulder, leading you to the couches. “What do you think about throw pillows? I have a lot of opinions.”

You’re chatting soft furnishings with Ava while Yelena and Bob debate names for your guinea pigs while Alexei - after pouring vodka for everyone - answers the door to the next arrival. Brock Rumlow walks into your apartment, each step less confident than the last as his eyes dart between the heroes making up the party.

He’s arrived earlier than the time you texted him, perhaps hoping to corner you alone before things got started, but you and Ava ignore him entirely, so he hovers awkwardly on the edge of the others’ conversation.

Despite successfully tuning him out, your attention is pulled to their side of the room by an anguished cry from Yelena.

“What? I just answer his question.” Alexei protests, pointing at an embarrassed Brock. “I have super serum, I go all night! And all day, and all night again after!”

You don’t think Yelena could look any more horrified. Bob’s just confused, while at your side Ava hoots with laughter.

“What the hell did he ask?” You giggle to her.

Of course, Alexei hears you. “Agent asked about love life of people here.”

Brock starts to protest, but Alexei waves a hand at him dismissively before turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “Ah, and you should know. You are close with Winter Soldier, да? He is so amazing. Whoo, I bet he goes all week!”

The look on Rumlow’s face is more than worth hearing Alexei’s boasts, although you doubt his daughter feels the same - Yelena looks like she’s dying.

“Mr Soldier is good man.” Alexei nods, draining his drink and gesturing widely. “I approve of him as future honorary son-in-law!”

Yelena almost runs out of the room when there’s another knock at the door, returning with John Walker.

“Happy Housewarming!” He calls, entirely oblivious to the conversation he’s just walked into. He approaches you to introduce himself and presents his gift - a bottle of American-made whiskey that, like him, isn’t quite as good as he thinks it is.

You leave him with Ava and go to put the bottle in the kitchen next to Alexei’s vodka. Rumlow immediately follows.

“Why are none of your friends here?” he asks, finally realising maybe he should be worried.

“These are my friends,” you answer with a tight smile.

“You know what I mean.” He hisses.

 You shrug nonchalantly. “The apartment’s too small for everyone at once, so tonight is just Yelena's friends.”

“No Barnes though.”

“He's busy. And anyway, he's already seen it.” You flash Brock a knowing smile as you return to the party.

—

It’s true that Bucky’s busy - visiting Rumlow’s empty home to carry out his part of the plan. When he arrives at your apartment an hour later and shoots you a quick wink, you know he’s succeeded.

The rest of the Thunderbolts greet him all the more enthusiastically a few drinks in, but Brock tenses up, clearly not happy to be joined by the super-soldier, who pulls up a chair right next to him.

After being left out of yet another round of Alexei’s drinks, Rumlow finally gets the hint and sighs, standing up to leave.

“Well, I’ll see most of you Monday. And hey,” he nods at you, licking his lips as he does, “don’t be a stranger, yeah? The Tower’ll be a lot less hot without you around it.”

Before you’re obliged to answer, Bucky slams Brock’s arm harder than necessary with his vibranium one. “Hey buddy, I think you dropped this.” He holds out a thumb drive that he appears to have picked up off the floor.

Recognition startles across Rumlow’s face for a moment before he backs away. “Uh, no man, that’s not mine.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, his voice mock-polite and deadly smooth, “It fell right out of your pocket.”

Brock pales in panic as he realises what’s happening, why this evening has felt so off to him. “No, no, I’m sure-”

“It did,” Yelena chips in. “It fell out of your pocket, I saw it.”

“We all saw it.” Ava adds with a smirk.

Alexei and Bob chime in with their agreements, drowning out John’s quiet, confused, “Huh?”

Brock’s eyes swivel rapidly around the room as he tries to find a way out of this. “Okay, I should-” he grabs the drive but Bucky holds on, smile widening.

“You know, a lot of these encrypted drives have suspicious stuff on them. I’m sure you know you shouldn’t be using one of these, not as a respectable, law-abiding Thunderbolt support agent.”

“It’s not illegal to own one of these!” Rumlow reddens with impotent anger.

“Oh, so you confirm it is yours.” Yelena moves to Brock’s other side, penning him in. “We should probably check there’s nothing suspicious on there.”

“Good idea.” Bucky nods like they’ve just thought of it.

“This is crazy!” Rumlow shouts, starting to sweat. “It’s just a storage device, there’s nothing suspicious on it!”

“Then you won’t mind unlocking it for us.” Ava adds, phasing into thin air behind him.

“It - I can’t-”

“Dude, if it’s yours, your fingerprint will unlock it.” Bob points out, positioning himself in front of Brock, Alexei joining him. “Couldn’t be easier.”

“Idiot-proof.” The Russian growls over Bob’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” John is still seated, looking baffled at his teammates circling Rumlow.

“No way,” Brock growls, letting go of the drive and shouldering his way out of the group. Before he can take a second step, Bucky’s left arm shoots out and grabs him by the collar, lifting him clean off the floor.

“Then I guess we’ll have to unlock it and search through the contents for you.” He tosses the thumb drive to Yelena.

“No!” Brock gurgles.

“Yes!” Yelena answers with a smile.

“Wait, is this a fake housewarming?” John’s question is drowned out by Brock’s shouted objections.

“You can’t do that!” He chokes out, scrabbling ineffectually at Bucky’s hand.

“We can.” Alexei tells him solemnly. “Modern technology is really amazing.”

“Don’t you need one of those special devices to break into an encrypted drive?” Walker pipes up, not wanting to be left out now he gets what’s happening.

“Yeah, you do,” Bucky ignores Rumlow’s squirming as he dangles in his vibranium grasp, and reaches for a gift bag with his other arm, that he holds out to you with a smile. “Good thing I brought a housewarming gift.”

—

The Thunderbolts handily detained Brock until he could be arrested, enjoying the task perhaps a bit more than they should have. As Bucky had confirmed earlier, the thumb drive he’d taken from Rumlow’s place contained a digital wallet with multiple cryptocurrency payments connecting him to the criminal gang they’d dismantled. You could tell just from her voice on the other end of the line that Val had strong suspicions about exactly how things had gone down, but she didn’t contest their version of events - and she couldn’t argue with the evidence.

The rest of the night turned into a celebration of Rumlow getting his comeuppance as well as of your new home. You couldn’t wait to start living your life there with Yelena, which you told her repeatedly as you embraced and thanked her. Later, while everyone else was occupied arguing about whether or not to try racing your new guinea pigs, you pulled Bucky aside for a quiet moment.

“I think I need to thank you again,” you tell him with a sly smile as you close your bedroom door behind you.

“Or maybe I should be thanking you,” he corrects, mirroring your look as he steps closer, “I think I enjoyed seeing Rumlow dragged off even more than you did.”

Your sassy reply dies in your throat as Bucky runs his lips along your jaw, short-circuiting your mind.

“Well, I think- we both- are grateful,” you gasp incoherently, eliciting a deep chuckle in response.

“I can agree with that,” he murmurs, breathing you in as his teeth nip at your skin.

“Bucky,” you moan desperately and grab his shirt, pulling his mouth to yours.

You pour every ounce of your emotions into the kiss - all your relief, all your longing, all your desire. You let yourself fully give in to that electrifying pull, the delicious comfort and heady exhilaration of him.

Bucky’s arms hold you tight, pulling you as close as possible while you’re both still clothed. The soft care for you that thunders in his heart blends with the hot pulse of need, his lips devouring you as he tugs you to him so strongly you feel your feet leave the ground. Acting on instinct, on want, you lift your legs to wrap around him, the core of you pressing against his hardness. With a groan you feel in every inch of you, Bucky runs his hands down your back, over the curve of your ass to grip the back of your thighs, pressing you into the door with a desperate need that you fully match as you lock your feet behind him, hands tangling in his hair.

Your amorous clinch only ends when the voices in the rest of the apartment get louder.

“You can’t have sex when we’re in the middle of the party!” Yelena yells from the living room.

“Yes, they can, go for it my friends, celebrate with your bodies!” The rest of Alexei’s shouted encouragement is drowned out by groans and laughter from the rest of the group.

Bucky rests his forehead against yours, eyes crinkling in a smile, lips swollen from you.

“I guess we should get back to them.” You admit reluctantly.

“I guess we should,” he agrees, pulling back from you like it’s taking all of his super-strength to do so. “But we have plenty of time to pick this up again. After I take you out on a proper date.”

------------

Tags: @yesshewrites1 @lcolumbia1988 @vxllys @starfly-nicole @luvr-bunnyy @greatenthusiasttidalwave @oneofstarkskids @ye-olde-trash-panda @rockyeatrock @raelikesdinosaurs @freyathehuntress @whitewolfluvr @xoxabs88xox @starstruck-cowgirl @calwitch @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Bones and all Art Donaldson

NSFW: murder, blood, gore, sex

it had been 3 days since your last meal, and he was getting antsy unable to ignore the pain in his stomach or the growling of yours.

You always were too spineless to do the killing it’s not your fault you were new to this lifestyle, and he never holds it against you. Only positive thing about starving was your desperation. Sucking him off while he's driving, pulling him into gas station bathrooms to fuck you over the sink and grabbing the steering wheel forcing him to pull over and pummel his dick into you on the side of the road, you were relentless and he was exhausted. Art was blessed man though he never thought he'd meet someone as depraved as him

It's late at night when he spots her at the local amusement park stood next to the ferris wheel, cute thing was fresh faced out of high school all sunshine and excitement sometimes he felt bad for his victims most times he barely gave a damn too hungry to care.

He plays up his compliments as he flirts with her tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "you're beautiful you know, sweet as pie." He hides his sinister intentions behind a grin. She prattles on about her best friend, new puppy she got and shitty ex she has to deal with but he's fixated on her neck the expanse of her breasts, tits almost slipping out of her little dress, he wipes the drool off the corner of his lips when his eyes latch onto her throat, he could almost see the blood pulsing through her skin.

It pissed you off the way he was talking to her like he liked her, you knew the routine it was what he had to do but ripping her to pieces made the jealously subside.

So half an hour later you’re on him half naked completely bloody her limp body discarded next to his truck. Swapping spit as your hand leaves red handprints over his milky white chest body almost glowing in contrast.

“She tastes better than the other one” you moan against his open mouth.

“horny college students are always are the best.” He impatiently shimmies your shorts down your legs tearing your pink underwear in half with balled up fists

“they were my last pair” you glower at the unsalvageable pieces

“just use hers” he peers over wipes his hand over the bite he ripped out of her chest cavity lubricating his member with blood pumping it in his hand, he reaches out for more smearing your pussy with the rest

"So fucking tight" he moans as he stretches your cunt splitting you open. Your eyes clench shut at the abrasion "never get used to it." You wince hands digging into the dirt beneath him

he pecks your forehead as an apology before driving his cock into you at a brutal speed it's almost painful. He grabs your head and yanks it back watching your tits bounce leaning up and licking the slimy residue off your skin "I'm the luckiest guy in the world you know that?" He grunts "couldn't ever find a better fuck than you."

the sounds of his balls slapping against your soaked pussy radiate through the humid midnight air "so fucking close-" you whine tightening your walls around his dick

his fingers dig into your hips tearing the skin trying to stave off his orgasm "you're a fucking freak-" he slaps your ass "my favorite whore" he plants his feet on the ground pounding your swollen pussy as you cry out for more.

"Come in me" you drag your hands up tighten them around the column of his throat rolling your hips down his length. "Let me be yours." "Fucking, shit" he gasps eyes roll back as he circles your clit with his thumb helping you chase your high, a blinding rush of pleasure runs through your body your juices coat his pelvis and thighs he continues rubbing your clit harder spurts of clear release spew on his abs until you slap his hand away.

You're dizzy almost collapsing when you begin riding him again "you need to cum" you whimper pussy throbbing from your orgasm. He shakes his head "not if it hurts you"

you shove your fingers into his mouth shutting him up. Wincing in discomfort as you bounce on his cock until ropes of cum spill into your pussy loud moans rip through his chest hips bucking until he finishes

A minute passes both of you trying to breathe when Art cups your cheek blue eyes searching for any hesitation, he only finds love.

“You good?" he asks, you nod

“promise?” He mumbles tracing your bottom lip

“yes”you heave collapsing onto his frame saccharine red remains dried up on your skin.

He grips your jaw shoves your face back and pries your mouth open with his tongue then spits down your throat, you groan as thick glob tastes sickly sweet like ice cream or chocolate cake a little more rotten.

He hums your favorite song tracing smiley faces on your belly with your release smeared watery red you shift to straddle him glimpsing down between your connected cores satisfied at the pink spunk spilling out of you coating his pubes. He reaches down cups it in his fingers and drips it inside his open mouth

“tasty”

@rottenk1sses I hope I did it justice omg

[urhoneycombwitch]

living room lover’s rock

foreword: was in the mood for some domestic bitchy steddie x reader. that’s all

cw: no smut but sexual content (+18 as always), steddie established throuple/poly relationship, Steve’s kind of the sugar daddy, Reader with breasts, femme pet names used for R (princess, girl)

wc: 1.2k

___

It’s after six and Eddie’s got you pinned flat with his knee in your hip socket, hands dragging through each other’s hair, a proper couch spit-swapping session in full swing until the front door to the trailer slamming shut interrupts his rhythm.

“You two just couldn’t wait, huh?” Steve’s tone is husked with fatigue and admonishment as he hangs his jacket on the hall hook- must not be too upset, though, ‘cuz after toeing off his shoes he approaches the couch with head tilted in interest.

His fingers slip behind the knot of his tie, tugging it free from collared confines to hang loosely around his neck. His other hand plants itself on a hip as he stands over you and Eddie, watching, hunger brewing.

Eddie graciously attaches himself to the sweet spot behind your ear, freeing up your mouth to gasp and speak. “It- ah- it’s your boyfriend's fault. We were watching a movie and he stuck his tongue down my throat.”

Your accusation stands on grounds as shaky as your voice, and Eddie knows it, drawing back to nip at your collarbone before saying, “Didn’t hear you complaining, princess.”

“That’s because my mouth was occupied,” you snip, hands fisting tighter around the flannel of Eddie’s shirtsleeves.

In retaliation, Eddie pretends to eat your ear- chomping with loud and sloppy theatrics as you squeal and smack his ribs.

He’s still grinning like the devil when Steve sinks a knee to the carpet and gets a fistful of Eddie’s dark curls, pulling his head up and back by the roots, neck craned pale and lovely above you as Steve speaks. “Enough. You been torturing our girl, Eds?”

In response, you push up to your elbows, pressing fond kisses to either side of the Adam’s apple on display, held in place by Steve’s big hand as Eddie gulps around the sudden attention shift.

You almost feel bad for him, having been on the receiving end of the boys’ doubled focus many times before. But he did interrupt Sixteen Candles like, twenty minutes into the runtime- didn’t try very hard to wait for Steve at all, either- so you figure a bit of choice brown-nosing and light torment is called for.

“Been torturing me all day.” When your tone falls into that lilting, supplicating frequency that usually precedes something or someone coming, Eddie’s hands spasm around your hips (in warning, with pleading, anyone’s guess), a fruitless effort to get you to ease up.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are half-lidded, not-quite panting but close to it as Steve leans closer, hints of the cologne you’d watched him tap delicately into his skin earlier this morning leftover and lingering in the shared air between the three of you as he purrs in Eddie’s ear- “Gonna say you’re sorry?”

Steve has introduced a fizzling swell of tension, growing as Eddie squirms against you and into the hold still tight in his hair; through the layers of denim, in the cradle of your hips, you can feel the stiff bulge of his cock growing stiffer by the second.

“Yeah, okay.” Remarkably well-behaved and compliant, Eddie rasps out his white flag, the grip in his hair loosed just enough so he can dip to press an appeasing kiss over your left breast (t-shirt sitting skewed and low from where he’d hastily pulled at it earlier). “Sorry ‘bout showing you a good time.”

It’s not even close to a well-rounded apology, but before you or Steve can catch him again Eddie’s sliding off and away, cool air flooding in as soon as he stands from where the warmth of his body was.

“She’s all yours, anyways, Harrington.” With kiss-bitten lips and wild hair, Eddie tugs at the front of his jeans before plunging into his pockets, feigning cool disinterest. “Gonna go out for a smoke.”

Steve settles into the couch cushion next to you, holding out an arm for you to tuck under. “Gonna wreck your lungs, Eddie.”

Adopting the same condescending tone, you add to the back retreating down the hall- “I won’t kiss you until you brush your teeth, Eddie.”

Eddie lifts a middle finger for each of you before the screen door slams shut behind him.

“Well he’s rude tonight,” Steve remarks, fondly, thumb working circles into the meat of your shoulder as he pulls you tighter to his side, arcing down for a kiss. “Good thing one of your boyfriends is a gentleman.”

Steve tastes like the sweet mint gum he always stows in his dash, with a hint of cherry chapstick. His cupid’s bow fits just right into the notch above your lips.

“Can’t really blame Eddie for his behavior,” you say, accusing again, this time with a softness that draws your nose into the curve of Steve’s neck. “Your stupid job kept you too late from us. Gonna make you quit soon.”

Steve huffs, irritated and amused- “If I don’t go to my stupid job then no more lights or water for our luxury palace.”

He stretches his legs towards the coffee table, hooking one ankle over the other, humming at the weight of you shifting further into his side.

You know he hates working for his dad, abhors the business-formal dress and the banality of numbers crunching; you also know that Steve likes providing. Needs to do it, an intrinsic part of his giving nature- he’ll work himself to the bone if it means you only have to work half shifts at the diner, if it allows Eddie to devote his free time to income-unrelated hobbies like D&D and the band.

“Gotta bring home the bacon,” Steve muses, rubbing absently at your upper arm, “God knows no one in this small-minded town will rent to our drug-dealing, delinquent, rumored-to-be satanist-”

“Hey.” The screen doors slams, Eddie drifting in on a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Watch it, pretty boy. Keep talkin’ and I’ll sic the devil on you.”

Steve sticks out his tongue, petulant. Eddie snaps menacingly at the air and flings himself down into the last spot on the couch, thigh pressed into Steve’s.

That simmering tension is back. You draw on your instigator tendencies, resting your elbow on Steve’s shoulder to wind a long lock of his chestnut hair around an index finger. “Aww. I think you two should kiss and make up.”

Lamplight glints off the silver hoops lining the shell of Eddie’s right ear, on his sharp canines as he grins, wolfish, leaning in to pucker at Steve.

With one last scathing eye roll, Steve gives in, guided by the push from your fingers at his temples- but the kiss doesn’t last more than two seconds before his head jerks away in disgust.

“Eugh. You forgot to brush!”

“Didn’t forget.” Smile turned shit-eating, Eddie jumps up from the couch “But I will for princess, here.”

He smacks a kiss to the crown of your head on his way to the bathroom. A moment later, the faucet spits on, and you turn to Steve, biting back a giggle at his less-than-enthused look.

“Asshole,” Steve mutters, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes you smile.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Ours, though.”

[writingsofwesteros]

(An Au The dance did happen and TB took some Alicent and Cole would hate their precious daughter.)

Daemon had snuck in and instead of killing Jahaerys, they kidnapped Alicent bastard daughter, knowing how much she cared about her compared to her other children. Naerys is confused when she finds herself on Dragonstone. Confront Rhaenyra over her kidnapping. Rhaenyra doesn't care to feel sorry for her non-sister. Rhaenyra doesn't hate the girl but she can't play the farce of how Alicent judges her for her sons but is a total hypocrite when it comes to her and Sir Criston bastard daughter. Rhaenyra thinks of just throwing her in cells or killing her but remembers she heard rumors about the girl and wasn't confused about what she saw on Driftmark back then with Naerys gagging on Daemon cock. She hides around a tree but she saw it for what it was. Also a gossip about Jace fucking Naerys at Laena funeral. If anything Rhaneyra couldn't help but laugh for the girl reminded her of her. Bringing the girl to her chambers, Rhaenyra doesn't hold back when she said she wants her mouth on her cunt for her family fault in Luke death. Naerys confused can't help but feel some wetness between her thigh at her half-sister begging for her mouth instead of her head.

Naerys not one to deny a sexual pleasure doesn't hesitate to allow Rhaenyra to pull her in for a deep tongue-swapping kiss. Before pushing the girl to her knees, the Black Queen, leans back in a chair, racking her skirt up for her royal cunt to be seen. Naerys seeing the pink of Rhaenyra pussy doesn't hesitate before diving in licking and sucking her heart away on the eldest Targaryen pussy.

https://www.sex.com/pin/56423907-hot-brunette-and-blonde-bombshell-having-a-little-fun-on/

https://www.sex.com/pin/22265712-lesbian-kissing-gif/

Naery continues licking Rhaenyra until the Black Queen squirts into the bastard princess mouth. Naerys feeling her legs turning soak, asks Rhaneyra if she is, please. Seeing the cuteness of Naerys, Rhaenyra leans in to passionately kiss her former friend daughter one more time before saying she will get a room accommodated for her and to enjoy her stay on Dragonstone. Naerys is not all thrilled but is not upset and doesn't get far until she runs into Jace. Who she hasn't seen since Driftmark. Jace seeing Naerys again turns bright red at seeing her lustful body again. Naerys smirked at remembering Jace great cock that fucked her well. Feel like her stay with the Black's won't be as bad as she thinks.

Once set in her room, it doesn't take long for Jace to come to say what he did back then was a mistake. Even though Baela said it was fine, he should have held back. Naerys knowing he lying, smiles at Jace before telling him, how she loved how his cock felt sliding in and out of her and how she would love to feel him inside her again. Jace falls quicker than he did on Driftmark and pulls Naerys into a kiss. Both clash in teeth and tongue to where she whispers she wants his strong seed in her womb. Jace pushes Naerys onto the bed and continues kissing her.

https://s13.gifyu.com/images/SeMrp.gif

Feeling the lust rising it, isn't long before Naerys climbs over Jace, taking his cock in her cunt, riding him. To where the Velaryon-Strong princess sucks on her perfect breasts feel how soft and heavy they are. Naerys can't help moaning to Jace long cock, hitting her womb so nicely. It felt ecstatic when he finally released his load inside her feeling his seed touch her womb. Kissing the heir son one more time, they fall asleep not releasing Baela was watching when Naerya was riding him, them not noticing her.

https://www.sex.com/pin/57061503-wild-amateur-brunette-teen-cock-riding-ass-view/

The next day when Naerya awakens, she feels relieved having feasted on Rhaenyra cunt and riding Jace cock. She felt like the Black had been holding back from her. Running into Baela, she feels awkward, hoping Baela doesn't know she fuck her betrothed last night. Baela wanting to speak alone, pulls Naerys to a hidden chamber where she admits she saw her and Jace last night. Naerys wanting to feel sorry really couldn't when she remembered Jace told her Baela allowed him last time. Naerys telling Baela she doesn't regret it, asks her why she wanted to speak with her if she allowed Jace to fuck her before. Baela blushing confesses that she always thought Naerys was beautiful and wanted her as well. Naery stunned, smiles and pulls on Baela to bring her in for a shy sweet kiss. Naerys saying she always thought Baela was cute, smiles when she starts groping Baela's breast. Baela moans to her breast being tongue doesn't notice Naerys licking her neck and kissing it. Knowing she doesn't have time before Rhaenyra maybe calls for her. Naerys kisses Baela before sneaking her hand under the heir betrothed skirt and finding her clit to rub, causing the Rogue Prince daughter to moan in her heated kiss. Naerys dominating the dragon twin turns her around before pushing her up against a table, pulling Baela tops down so her breast can spill taking one in her mouth before turning to play with her clit. Bael can't help but moan at the blissful feeling she has never felt.

https://www.sex.com/pin/65815535-interracial-lesbians/

Naerys rubbed Baela clit while kissing and licking her neck. Has the dragon twin moaned and cumming so hard around her slender fingers. Naerys smiled at making the fearless Baela puddy in her hands. Baela feeling her wetness around her thighs turns to kiss Naerys hard to where the other reciprocates. Baela tells Naerys to come to her bed some time, that she would love to be pleasured by her again, and that if she can sometimes allow her to join when she with Jace. Naerys kisses her again saying she would utterly enjoy that.

Once Rhaenyra summons her to the main hall. Naerys notices a group of men that look like dragonseeds. Much older than her age but very strong and delicious to her appetite. Rhaenyra 6 Naerys in front of the council will be used for the dragonseed pleasure to get their loyalty. Even though she should be humiliated and angry at being used as a common whore. That is exactly what she is, that her other mother doesn't know. Between the next two days on letting the mongrels as Jace calls them use her. She feels utterly fucked out of her mind allowing Lord Corly bastard sons to feel her tight hole, stretching her so nicely. Addam pounding her whole, while Alyn made sure she gagged on his cock both fucking her mind stupid with how good their cocks felt

https://www.sex.com/pin/59031673-riley-getting-drilled/

Once Lord Corly sons use her. She meets Hugh and Ulf, one huge and the other scruffy. Just the way she likes them especially when she remembered when she went under-covered on the Street of Silk at the brothel, she had fucked Ulf before and how rough he was with her making her call him daddy, while he drill her little cunt from behind.

https://s13.gifyu.com/images/SXhiu.gif

Remembering his thick cock, it doesn't take long before Naerys drag by both men, and not even on the bed, she taken the floor. With Huge, spreading her arse while pounding from behind her making sure she milks for all his seed. While Naerys just moans to Huge thick and long cock, while she sucks Ulf off, seeing how he acts like Aegon with his drunkness, which make her miss her brother a little, but on for a second one Ulf grabs her head. Pushing her down on his cock where teas starts to form to her delight. Ulf fucking her face while calling her a princess whore. Naerys grows wetter at the degrading that she feels Hugh plunge deeper inside her.

https://www.sex.com/pin/65416140-sexy-black-hair-with-big-tits-gets-two-cocks/

Naerys hasn't forgotten Team Green would the fucking she was receiving. She couldn't control the appetite she was tasting. Once Princess Rhanys was killed, Lord Corlys was devastated. Naerys always thinking he was a handsome older man goes to comfort him. At first, Corlys tries to resist, but once Naerys starts massaging him with her breast touching his back. Corlys throw the girl on the bed, pushing her skirt before licking at her wet cunt. Calling her a whore for his pleasure. Rubbing her clit, Naerys replies that Lord Corlys can use her to release his anger and stress. Unlacing his trouser Corly starts pounding Naerys from behind. She moans how great his cock feels. Corly feel his stress leaving with hoe tight Naerys cunt is. Telling her since he hasn't no heir, she will give him one. Naerys saying that fine, is soon riding Corlys feeling his long and thick cock hitting far past where Jace it.

https://s7.gifyu.com/images/SeMr8.gif

https://www.sex.com/pin/59313827-interracial-sex-gif/

Feeling Corlys hit straight into her womb. She wouldn't have cared if it was Lord Corly bastard. With the cum he releases in her, if she believed one of Team Black got her with a child it would be Lord Corly. Especially when pulled out after releasing feeling his seed leak out.

https://www.sex.com/pin/56285152-last-one/

Sooner after she has nearly fucked the entire castle, Nawrys return to her chambers until UT dinner and she is called in to run back into the one who has her gagging on his cock at his late cock wedding. Daemon who has been at Harenhall was suprise to be the illegitimate princess walking around. Seeing her in a very silky gown that Rhaenyra gifted her, he could probably guess what happened while he was gone. Knowing the fake princess nature he calls her nature, and he waits until after dinner. To pull her into an alcove, she said there was no point with every maid and knight knowing she was a whore on the island. Not surprised by it, he unlaces his trousers, pulling his cock out, not saying a word. Naerys remembering Driftmark, sink to her knees and grab Daemon cock, stroking it before licking around the head, tasting the pre-cum already leaking from his slit. Daemon moaning rubs her head before she takes him in her mouth. Rotating her tongue around every vein of his cock, starts to make her cunt leak at remembering the amazing feeling of it in her mouth. After a minute of bobbing and gagging, Daemon groans before pulling her off and picking her up to turn racking her skirt up. Sliding between the folds of her cunt, without words exchange. Daemon moans at how wet she feels, before pushing in and fucking her hard and rough like she likes it.

https://www.sex.com/pin/56715824-blow-job-gif-sucking-dick-cock-sucking-oral-sex/

https://www.sex.com/pin/57149791-autumn-falls-doggystyle-pov/

Looking to see her miking in so good, it isn't long before she starts squirting from Daemon intense pounding. Feeling her tightening him, Daemon blows stronger than he has for any woman in the past, making sure to paint Naerys wall white with his seed. Naerys moans loudly and screams Daemon from the intense climax she receives when he cums in her. She second guesses herself taking back her mind, that besides Lorz Corlys. Daemon could also get her pregnant and she would be fine with that. Daemon pulling her up, spins her around kissing her strongly, and she wraps her arm around him returning the passionate kiss.

https://cdn1-thumbs.worldsex.com/albums/16/15801/d0a92e158d501f9a913038f4789523195ab50589_001.gif

https://www.sex.com/pin/57899539-kissing/

https://www.sex.com/pin/66738240-lots-of-cum-dripping-from-her-juicy-cunt/

Naerys being picked up by Daemkn, is carried to her room. Falling asleep, Naerys has completely almost forgotten that there was a war and has now enjoyed the company of Team Black, which she indulges in every day. Especially when she not riding Jace or taking from behind, she pressed with her knees to her head with Daemom pounding her right on the way table. If anything she sometimes licks Baela, or has Rhaenyra fingers in her tight cunt, squirting over her entire hand. One thing was for sure Naerya was free to be a whore as much as she like. Rhaenyra received special news that Alicent and surprisingly Cole were breaking down furious at hearing about Naery vulgar living on Dragonstone, that it was more chaos in King Landing when it was discovered in the past two years that she birthed three babes, one from Jace, one from Corlys and not to her surprise one from her husband the Rogue Prince.

THE HOTTEST!!

[maxsimagination]

Could you do a smut fic with Katie McCabe possibly about reader and Katie swapping shirts and doing it in the changing rooms. Katie likes seeing her name on your back whilst you do it

𝙨𝙬𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙨 - 𝙠.𝙢𝙘𝙘𝙖𝙗𝙚

summary: two captains go head to head

-> caitlin and katie aren’t together in this

-> !! fingering, semi public sex !!

𖦹 masterlist

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗔 𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗟 game against ireland, fouls being committed everywhere.

and by everywhere i mean katie maccabe.

going up against the captain wasn’t easy by any means, she was the most determined defender in the pitch and was not afraid to slide into tackles.

i wasn’t any less determined, but as the opposing captain and a striker, i was typically the one on the end of her tackles.

however by the end of the first half, australia had already gained three goals. one scored by me and the other two assisted by me.

clearly that didn’t set katie in a good mood and she was even worse on the pitch then before. it wasn’t just me she’d been targeting before, going up against caitlin and mary. but now it was just me. i hit the ground about three times within ten minutes, all courtesy of katie.

when i was thrown over again and i looked up to see katie at fault, that was my final straw.

“what the hell was that? you could seriously injure me if you keep going.”

“woah, calm down there, yn. just trying to do my job.”

her thick irish accent coating her words while her eyes bore into mine made it harder to comeback. so i stood there for a second, fuming in silence while katie had a ridiculous smirk on her face.

the game moved on with no card and australia did end up winning four - nil.

when the final whistle blew and everyone was celebrating, i walked over to katie.

“good game.”

i held out my hand to shake. the irish captain looked at me then my hand. when she finally shook it, she spoke up.

“we should swap shirts.”

that was all she said, leaving it up to me to decide.

“sure.”

i lifted my arms up above my head, bringing my shirt up and off my body with it. i could feel katie’s eyes on my abdomen, just trailing along the muscles. it was only when i had held mine out to her that she snapped out of her stupor and took hers off too.

my eyes naturally found her abs, memorising the ripple when she lifted her arms.

we handed over our shirts to each other, putting on the opposing colour. it didn’t feel natural, wearing the bright green of ireland, but i was willing to wear it for katie.

she had slipped on the golden-yellow of mine and the camera man had walked over to get a picture of us. so we stood together, motioning to the shirts as the poses.

when we parted, i shook her hand again, before walking back to my team.

we all made a lap around the stadium, signing things and some of my teammates gave out their own shirts, but i kept the green one to myself. when we made it back to the tunnel, the ireland players were nowhere to be found, having gone back down the tunnel earlier. my team traipsed ahead of me, all celebrating the crucial win.

but then someone grabbed my wrist and tugged me in the opposite direction.

turns out, that person was katie. still wearing my shirt from earlier, she tugged me into the irish changing rooms. no one was in the room, apparently all having left the stadium earlier.

“they aren’t here. coach took everyone back to the hotel. i said i had someone to see.”

katie spoke up, noticing my hesitation.

she tugged me further in, then skinning me round and pinning me against the door.

“my name on your back does things you can’t imagine to me, love.”

“katie-”

“you have no idea how much i want to kiss you right now.”

“so do it.”

she was taken aback by my sudden response to her less-than-professional words. but, without second thoughts, she dove right in and pressed her lips against mine.

they were soft, but desperate, against my own. she ran her tongue across my bottom lip, asking permission. i instinctively opened my own lips and katie wasted no time slipping her tongue into my mouth.

i let out a small whine, somehow begging katie to do something more.

she lifted her knee to press against my crotch, giving me the smallest amount of pressure where i needed it most.

her action elicited a moan from me, had me begging for more.

“please katie, touch me.”

a smirk grew on her face, and there was now a fire in her eyes, like she was hungry. she slid her hands down to my waist, tugging down my shorts and underwear.

her fingers trailed down to my thighs, spreading them slightly then dipped a finger into my folds. she dragged it through my wetness before bringing it back up to her mouth where she sucked off the juices.

“katie.”

i groaned at her, she sure was taking her time.

“patience, love.”

with that, she slipped her fingers back down to my dripping folds. almost immediately she pushed inside me and set a steady pace.

she started off slow, thrusting in and out, letting me get used to the intrusion. then she sped up, flexing her bicep muscles while adding another finger.

i was moaning at the full feeling of her fingers inside me, hips rocking to meet katie’s thrusts.

“faster katie, please.”

“as you wish, princess.”

she sped up even further, adding her thumb to bump against my clit which sent me into overdrive.

“katie, katie i’m cumming-”

and with that i’d already been pushed over the edge.

katie slowed her thrusts to help me down from my high, licking her fingers clean when she pulled out.

“we should do this again sometime, princess.”

[nooneaskedforthissmut]

18+

It's always perv!steve this or perv!eddie that and sometimes perv!billy. Which I'm all for, but I want to see more perv!robyn x reader. Especially bestfriends!robyn x reader

A/N: unedited mess obviously

tags: fem!reader, lowkey mutual!perv, bestfriend!perv!robyn X curvy!reader, and they were roomates, lil dubcon

You and Robyn met on the first day of college orientation. You two instantly felt a connection and became friends. You both hated your assigned roommates. Luckily, your RA was cool enough to let you swap and before the week was over, you and Robyn became roommates.

But after a while, Robyn wasn't sure that it was the best idea.

You slept in a tight tank top and panties. And she couldn't help but stare. Although if you noticed, you never said anything.

You were so playful with her too. Hugging her tightly. Your soft body pressed up against hers. So it wasn't her fault when she would pull you in closer. Try to feel your hard nipples against her or smell you.

It became normal for her to give your ass a 'friendly' squeeze or spank. And I mean, you must want her to. You must be doing these things on purpose. Just to tease her.

You would try on new bras in front of her and ask if they looked good. You wouldn't even cover yourself when you changed into new ones, basically shaking your bare tits at her when you were picking a new bra. She'd sit there legs crossed, her pussy throbbing while you bounced in front of her, asking yourself if they were supportive enough. She'd offer to feel if the material was nice, just to get her hands on you.

After showers, you'd stay in your towel for a while lounging in your bed. Sometimes your tits would spill out or Robyn would get a clear shot of your ass or your pussy.

A few times while getting ready in the morning, you'd slowly lotion yourself while having full conversations with her. She'd be in bed pretending to have a late class. But really her hand was between her thighs teasing her clit under the blanket. She'd wait for you to leave so she could ride her pillow while wearing your sweatshirt, and imagine her head between your thick thighs.

After a long day of classes when you get back to the dorm, she offers to give you massages. Because ' what are friends for'. It would be a great way to take your clothes off too.

"I don't want the oil to soil your new underwear, babes" She'd say in that sultry raspy voice.

After she has you on your back fully naked, lying on your front, head resting on your hands. She'd start by working on your back. And straddle your ass to 'get a better angle'.

The massage feels so good that you don't even comment when her fingers graze your side boob a little too much.

And when you really get into the massage, you start to moan as Robyn works out the kinks in your back with her long fingers. Her thumbs would rub deep circles into your back, in a rhythm you wished to feel on your clit. She almost loses it with the comments you moaning.

"Fuck Robyn those fingers"

"Oh, my gooooood. That's it, do that again"

"mhmmm deeper. you can go harder"

And when you moan your thank yous, she'd just tell you that's what good roommates do.

She usually tries to control herself and only takes mental notes for when she has time alone with your vibrator - yes. your vibrator-. But sometimes she slips up and gets too into it. Starts grinding on your ass a little. She tries to make it unnoticeable, tries to make it look like she needs to grind her core into your soft big ass to make the message better for you. You've never really commented though. Sometimes, when she massaged the right spot your hips would buck and she'd dig her hips down into you - make it look like she was bracing herself.

Except once. You had finally completed an exam you were stressing and Robyn offered to message the stress knots out.

She was grinding her hips ever so often- like usual. It felt so much better this time because she was wearing corteroid pants and the lining was grazing her clit just right. She wished she wasn't wearing panties that day. When she got too cocky and started grinding into you more frequently.

You moaned for her to stop.

She froze, her heart pounding. Wondering if she was finally caught.

Until you said, " Your pants feel nice, but they're a little scratchy. Can you take them off"

She swallowed and quickly got up to take them off. She could've sworn she saw your pussy glistening.

"Should I put some oil on your toosh? If my pants scratched you,"

She tried to say it in a fun friendly way but she couldn't hide how raspy her voice was.

You shook your head. "Lotion first"

She obliged and she took her time rubbing it in. First with the lotion, then with the oil. Before she straddled your now oily ass with nothing but panties on and her shirt. (She really, really wished she hadn't worn panties that day).

"You might be extra slippery now"

She said knowing she was going to grind into you more now.

[soulstutters]

idk if you watched the original anime but If You Have could i maybe request trying to calm ranma down when his phobia kicks in and he goes into cat mode? :3

Taking Turns

pairing: Ranma Saotome x gn!Reader

a/n: ok i did notttt watch the original but i did my research and hope this is ok. also everyone is very tired and that is the reason we'll say there is very little dialogue. enjoy and thanks for being my first request!

You stumble your way outside of the Tendo household, huffing and puffing the entire time. You plop down on the ground and lean defeated against the wall behind you. You take a moment to breathe, thinking through what plunged your morning into such chaos.

It was Shampoo. But, as mischievous she could be, this one truly was not her fault. Not completely at least. Maybe sneaking into the Tendo house for Ranma wasn’t the most moral thing, but it wasn’t her intent to essentially turn him into a cat. 

You had just washed your hands to get ready to have breakfast with Akane and her sisters after spending the night. The bathroom was missing a hand towel so you headed to the kitchen to dry your hands. On your way out, you were startled by Shampoo trying - and failing miserably - to sneak through the house. Alarmed, you flung your hands in front of you for some form of protection, slinging water at her in the process. By the time you realized it was Shampoo, she’d already turned into a cat and sped into the kitchen on her man-hunt. As usual, Ranma saw Shampoo and instantly reverted into cat form. 

Now, you are basking in the shortest of rests in between “shifts” of hunting for Rnama with Akane. He had mostly been scrambling around inside the house, only occasionally finding his way out into the yard. It made it easy to keep track of him, but you lament the havoc he was wreaking with the furniture and decor. 

Bzzt-bzzt! Bzzt-bzzt! The alarm for your break goes off on the phone lying next to you. As if she had been counting down the seconds - she probably had been - Akane almost immediately emerges from inside. She slumps down next to you and lets out a heavy sigh. Her right hand raises limply and gestures at the still open front door. Your turn.

You stand slowly, groaning the whole way up. You turn towards the door with a deep, deep sigh. Towards the still open front door. The front door is still open. The front door is open. At the same time as you process it, Ranma comes flying and howling through the door. He flies down the street, agile as the cat he thinks he is. 

You begin to stomp, turning your body towards Akane as you do. She glares up at your temper tantrum through the hand sprawled over her face. With her other hand, she simply taps the phone with her break timer now running. You sigh once more, spin out to face the world, and start your search for Ranma. 

You think it’s your turn for a break again, but you’re not sure. Your search for Ranma has led you so far from Akane and you doubt she would follow you out to swap places. You’ve found yourself in a park searching for your cat-boy (boy-cat?). You’re absolutely sure Ranma’s here, you just can’t spot him among all the people and foliage. 

“Ranma!” you attempt to call to him for the millionth time. It comes out more like a screech, though, your voice tired from previous shouts. Now that you think about it, your body is tired, too. Really tired. And that shady tree looks really comfy. You contemplate for a moment before ultimately deciding to settle down for a moment. It’s probably your break time and you’re in a park, anyway. Ranma will be fine. 

You trudge over to your perfect tree and slide down its trunk. You haven’t even gotten the chance to close your eyes before something disturbs you from above. You ignore it, too tired to even glance upwards. The sound comes again, this time accompanied by falling leaves. You whip your head up to the branches over your head. You expect to see some bird to shoo away from your claimed territory, but are instead faced with a perching Ranma. His head is tilted at you curiously, as though he couldn’t possibly understand why you were so exhausted. 

You’ve all but given up on him at this point. Besides, you won’t be of much use in chasing him down if you can barely crawl. You close your eyes and relax against the tree trunk again. You decide to ignore Ranma, fully anticipating that he’ll run off again. To your surprise, though, he leaps down from his branch and sits next to you. You observe him through one uninterested eye and consider it a small win of the day. 

You start to unwind - again - but are interrupted by Ranma - again. This time, he seems to have forgotten his very human size and he attempts to curl into your lap in a very cat-like manner. You falter for a moment before choosing to accept it like everything else today. You rearrange your legs to make a more comfortable space for him. Admittedly, having his warmth in your lap is comfortable to you too. Absent-mindedly, you begin to smooth your hands through his very soft hair. You don’t even realize when you begin to doze off. 

When you awake, you feel wonderful. Well-rested and surprisingly warm, you go to stand and get back to work on looking for Ranma. He surely escaped while you slept and Akane likely took her own catnap. Except you can’t stand up. Something is holding you down. Someone is holding you down. You’re wrapped up in a stranger's arms, you register with panic. 

You slowly turn your neck to face your captor, only to be faced with a beaming Ranma. You blink up owlishly at him. His smile grows impossibly brighter. 

“Are you…,” you start out, praying the whole cat debacle is done with. Ranma releases a laugh at your unfinished question, squeezing you tighter in the process.

“Yep! I’m me again. Human me.” 

“Okay,” you drawl out slowly. “And you’re holding me in this death grip because?” Ranma’s smile fades slightly and you start to feel a bit bad. You don’t know what to say to him, so you just lean back slightly into his hold. This seems to reassure him because he grasps you ever tighter and grins again.

“Well, y’know…” He sounds nervous. You lean in again. He holds you closer. “I just figured, after you babysat me all day, it was my turn to hold you.” Again, you’re at a loss for words. Afraid to discourage him again, you offer him one of your own tentative smiles. This is all he needs if the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind is anything to go by. 

[yutamy1beloved]

I don't understand why some people hate Yuta and wish he died instead of Satoru. Like yeah, he swapped bodies with Satoru but it wasn't exactly his idea. Satoru clearly saw it coming, so he basically gave Shoko (shout-out to all the lesbians) permission to swap both males and she couldn't simply refuse. Yuta isn't the one at fault, nor Shoko or anyone else. Y'all bitches better just accept the fact that Yuta didn't do anything wrong and the fact that he's just a cutie patootie who's too sweet to do such a cruel thing 💀🙏

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Off The Record // Part 1

theme: Azzi Fudd x OC

Summary: shy sports media major Livvy lands her dream assignment covering UConn wbb—only to find herself falling for star player Azzi Fudd and torn between writing the perfect story or living one.

A/N: mostly doing this series for me as a writing exercise to improve and get myself out of the pazzi universe for a minute. love writing pazzi, but sometimes i feel boxed in because i want to write with their personalities/dynamic in mind (as much as a fan can know about them). writing an oc gives me a chance to explore a little more :) thanks for taking the time to read and follow along if you decide to. your support means the world to me. 💕

WC: 5,920

warnings: mention of injury

**** Part 1: Press Pass Problems ****

There were a few things Olivia Johnson knew for sure.

One: she would never forgive her parents for handing down a height gene that capped her at 5'4"—effectively crushing her WNBA dreams before puberty even had a chance to help.

She tried everything. Rec specs. Resistance bands. Prayer. Her dad once took her to a chiropractor in Bridgeport who swore he could “unlock vertical potential.” 

Spoiler: he could not. 

The closest Olivia ever got to dunking was a rogue dream after eating too many Hot Cheetos before bed.

Two: an ACL tear was the cruelest way to get dumped by your own body.

She was a two-sport athlete in high school—basketball was her first love, but soccer was where the future looked real. She was quick, instinctive, relentless when she wanted the ball. Not flashy, but dependable. Coaches noticed. There were actual conversations with a few big-time programs. Her parents, usually practical to a fault, started bringing up scholarships at dinner like it wasn’t terrifying.

Livvy played it cool—she always played it cool—but inside, she was buzzing. Not because she needed the spotlight, but because she liked having a plan. A path. Something she could work toward and earn, not just wish for. And for a while, it felt like that plan was finally unfolding.

And then, in the final game of senior season, she heard the pop. She went down and knew instantly—that’s it. She didn’t even cry right away. Just stared up at the sky while the trainer knelt beside her, thinking: Seriously? Now?

There were no college offers after that. No comeback season. Just ice packs, physical therapy, and a quiet shift in identity—athlete to ex-athlete, starter to spectator.

It was like someone rewrote her bio in real time and forgot to ask permission. Her body moved more slowly, but her mind never stopped replaying what-ifs. She stopped calling herself an athlete out loud. But sometimes, in dreams, she was still sprinting.

And three: if she couldn’t be a college athlete, she’d cover them instead.

Livvy didn’t quit—she rerouted. Swapped layups for lighting kits, game plans for shot lists. She stopped obsessing over what might’ve been and started paying attention to what was. The moments most people missed.

She wanted more than final scores and buzzer-beater headlines. She wanted the stuff underneath—the nerves before tipoff, the silence in the locker room after a loss, the way players looked when they thought no one was watching. What it meant to win for your grandma. To lose on your birthday. To keep showing up anyway.

Those were the stories she wanted to tell. The ones that felt like something.

While other kids picked majors based on what sounded “practical,” she picked sports journalism like it was oxygen. Because, for her, it kind of was.

And today? She’d been handed the dream assignment. UConn Women’s Basketball.

This wasn’t just a step up. It was a jump shot from the parking lot that somehow went in. Everyone in the program wanted this gig—the access, the clout, the chance to run point on social, shoot interviews, maybe even write a few think pieces for the campus paper. It was resume gold.

But for Livvy, it was more than that. It was proof she might actually be on the path she always dreamed about—quietly, stubbornly, maybe a little unrealistically. The one that ended with her reporting from the sidelines at the Final Four, or writing longform profiles that made people cry on the train. She had this vision—of her name under a photo on ESPN’s homepage, or her voice cracking jokes during halftime coverage like Mina Kimes, but with sneakers and a mic full of game-day nerves.

She didn’t need to be famous. She just wanted to be good. To matter. To tell the kind of stories people remembered.

No one cheered for a clean pull quote. No one rushed the court over a color-graded highlight reel.

But Livvy still chased it like a buzzer-beater. Like maybe, if she told it right, it would count.

Her phone buzzed. kk a: you better not crop me out of my good side 😎

Livvy smiled. Okay. She could do this.

And this? This felt like the beginning.

And it was hers.

She just had to hold it together long enough not to blow it.

Or, you know… not fall in love with the first player who smiled at her. Because that would be wildly unprofessional. And, unfortunately, not unprecedented.

She could handle filming elite athletes. What she couldn’t handle was when one of them said her name like it mattered.

Which is how she found herself—on a crisp, sunlit Friday in Storrs, Connecticut—sprinting back to her off-campus apartment with her beat-up media bag, half a granola bar stuck to her lip, and the creeping realization that her fully charged camera battery was not in said bag, but still sitting on her desk.

“Livvy! Wait!” Maddie’s voice rang out from the kitchen like a lifeguard spotting a drowning swimmer. She leaned around the corner, holding the charger aloft like it was the Holy Grail. “You are not going anywhere without this.”

Livvy skidded into the apartment on socked feet and former-athlete instinct, grabbed the battery and charger like it might save her life, and bent over dramatically, gasping. “Okay. Thank you. You're a hero. I was almost a cautionary tale.”

“Almost?” Maddie deadpanned, tucking a protein bar into Livvy’s hoodie pocket and shoving a water bottle into her hand. “You are a cautionary tale.”

Natalie, half-buried under a blanket with her phone six inches from her face, didn’t even look up. She had that rare talent of looking completely relaxed and vaguely judgmental at the same time. “Are we taking bets on whether she blacks out the second Paige Bueckers speaks to her? Or should we just assume it’s happening?”

Livvy groaned, letting her forehead drop to the wall. “Why would you say that out loud?”

Maddie shrugged, sipping her coffee. “It’s fair. She’s like… LeBron but blonde and chill.”

“She’s basically women’s basketball royalty,” Natalie added. “You know, in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” Livvy muttered. “I’ve been prepping for this for days. I’m locked in. I’m composed. I’m—”

“She’s going to say ‘hi’ and you’re going to forget your own name,” Maddie finished.

“I hate you both,” Livvy muttered, already mentally drafting her will.

They’d been randomly assigned as freshman roommates and, by some divine miracle (or possibly because the housing algorithm was drunk), had actually become best friends within a week. Maddie was pre-med—organized, brilliant, mildly terrifying—with color-coded tabs for her color-coded tabs and a Google calendar that sent Livvy passive-aggressive reminders titled Get It Together.

Natalie was... the opposite. She had changed majors twice, once tried to minor in “food studies” just for the Instagram bio, and RSVP’d to a frat party freshman year as “future trophy wife.” She currently majored in communications and chaos, with a concentration in iced coffee.

She was the in-between. The anxious perfectionist with a camera always slung over her shoulder, a running mental highlight reel, and a quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—she could be somebody if the world ever looked her way long enough.

Natalie finally glanced up from her phone and pointed her coffee mug at Livvy. “You’ve literally been stalking their whole roster like you’re prepping for Hard Knocks: Storrs Edition.”

“I’m trying to be ready,” Livvy defended. “This is the biggest media assignment of my life.”

“I mean, fair,” Maddie said, opening a flashcard app like she wasn’t already 400 terms ahead. “You’re covering the UConn women’s team. That’s insane.”

“And Paige is basically a brand,” Natalie added. “So if you get a quote from her that goes viral? Boom. Your resume enters the chat.”

Livvy tugged her hoodie over her head and exhaled through her nose. “Cool. No pressure or anything.”

“Zero pressure,” Maddie agreed, clearly lying.

“Unless you choke,” Natalie offered cheerfully. “Then lots of pressure.”

Livvy gave them both a middle finger as she adjusted her lanyard. “Manifest some support, maybe?”

“Oh, we support you,” Maddie said. “We're just realistic.”

Natalie grinned. “Also… text us everything.”

And with that, she took off—toward the practice facility, toward her dream job, toward a day that would definitely not involve blacking out or short-circuiting in front of any elite athletes.

Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

****

Today was the biggest day of her college career so far.

She’d spent her first two years covering the sports no one else wanted—field hockey, tennis, swimming. The ones with empty stands and confusing rules, and athletes who barely got name tags on the media board. Most of her classmates treated those assignments like a punishment. But Livvy loved them. She loved standing in the rain for a cross-country meet just to get the finish line shot. Loved zooming in on the last player off the bench and catching that flash of pride after a single good serve. She got really good at finding the story no one else was looking for—the awkward, genuine, unscripted kind. The kind that made you feel something.

She didn’t complain. She kept showing up, kept submitting clean reels, kept editing captions with the kind of detail her professors actually noticed. And when junior year rolled around, she didn’t have to beg for a better gig.

She was recommended.

By name.

Olivia Johnson. For the UConn women’s basketball media team.

It was the kind of endorsement people in her major dreamed about. And she was determined not to waste it.

She still remembered the moment it became real—sitting at the kitchen table in a hoodie and socks, watching her roommates react like she’d just been drafted into the league herself.

“You’re going to kill it,” Maddie said, packing her a protein bar like she was sending her to war.

“Don’t stress,” Natalie added. “You’re literally better at this than half the guys who think they invented sports media.”

Livvy had just laughed, but the words stuck with her more than she expected. That was a week ago. Since then, she’d been in full prep mode—shot lists, interview questions, caption ideas, media guidelines. Her camera battery had been on and off the charger like it had its own training plan.

She hadn’t felt this nervous since her first varsity start in high school—and maybe that was a good thing. Nerves meant it mattered.

And it did matter. And today, it was finally happening.

She’d prepped like it was the MCAT. Social trends, team history, visual storytelling angles. She’d made a spreadsheet—a spreadsheet—for media availability. She’d even rewatched old player interviews to track who gave long-winded answers (Paige) and who needed coaxing (Azzi).

And she was already familiar with most of the team. She and KK Arnold had a gen-ed class together freshman year—Intro to Public Speaking, which was ironic, because Livvy barely spoke and KK never stopped. They ended up paired for a group project and, by the end of it, KK had dubbed her “Camera Girl” and started saving her a seat in the dining hall. KK had no chill in the best possible way—loud, loyal, impossible to shake—and Livvy kind of loved her for it.

Ice came with the KK starter pack: quieter, more serious, but always down to back her up in an argument or steal the aux cord on Crumbl cookie runs. Jana and Ayanna were more casual friends—occasional smoke buddies who knew when Livvy needed a break and never asked too many questions. The rest of the team she recognized from hallway run-ins, stat sheets, or postgame pressers. Names, faces, inside jokes she’d only ever watched from the outside.

She’d been careful never to be too familiar, though. Never too loud, too obvious, too fangirl. Some part of her always hoped this would happen—this being the job—and she didn’t want to ruin it before it even started. So she played it cool. Said hi when it made sense. Laughed at the right moments. Kept a respectful distance.

Not because she wasn’t excited. She was. Painfully.

But she figured if she ever got the chance to be on the inside, really on the inside, she wanted people to take her seriously. She didn’t want to be remembered as “that girl who used to linger outside the locker room after games” or “the one who DM’d players weird compliments freshman year.”

So she kept it low-key. Professional. Invisible, in the best possible way.

And now? Now she was here. Press pass and everything. On the other side of the glass.

And all she had to do was not mess it up.

So when she walked into the practice facility that morning—press pass clipped to her jacket, camera already rolling—she told herself to breathe. To be cool. Be normal. Be the version of herself that didn’t spiral at the sight of high ceilings and championship banners and girls she used to watch on ESPN from her couch.

She’d run through this a dozen times in her head. How she’d set up her gear. What angles she’d shoot. Who she’d talk to first. It was a plan. A solid one.

And for a little while, it actually worked.

Media started smoothly.

KK was the first to spot her.

“Yo, media girl’s here!” she yelled from across the gym, hands cupped around her mouth. “Everybody act chill. Or don’t. Honestly, whatever.”

Livvy laughed under her breath as she stepped inside, camera strap slung across her body, nerves buzzing. “Really selling the professionalism, KK.”

KK jogged over, already hyped. “Okay so, yeah, I know you already know most of us, but let me do the little intro tour anyway because I love being the center of attention.”

Before Livvy could respond, KK grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the court like a human press pass.

“Jana, Ayanna—y’all know Livvy. Ice too. This is Lili, that’s Q. They both claim they hate being on camera but will absolutely pose if you get their good side.”

“Shut up,” Lili muttered without even glancing up.

“And,” KK said, spinning dramatically, “last but not least—Paige Bueckers, the legend, the NIL queen, the reason your cousin from Minnesota suddenly cares about women’s hoops.”

Paige glanced up from tying her shoe and gave Livvy a lazy once-over. “So you’re the new content girl?”

Livvy straightened a little. “Yeah. Olivia.”

Paige nodded once. “Cool. Just don’t post any clips of me looking tired or I’ll make you run sprints with us.”

KK snorted. “She’s not kidding.”

Livvy raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. I’ll add ‘protect Paige’s brand’ to my shot list.”

That made Paige smile—just a flicker, but enough to clock. “Honestly? That should be everyone’s job.”

“She’s not wrong,” KK jumped in. “You’d be shocked how many unflattering angles happen in practice.”

“You’re the reason half of them exist,” Paige said without missing a beat.

“I’m providing range,” KK replied, looking unbothered. “Also, I bring the vibes. So.”

Livvy smirked. “You bring the vibes, sure. Just not the self-awareness.”

Paige turned back to Livvy, a little more curious now. “You’re quick. I like that.”

Livvy blinked. “Not sure if that’s a compliment or if I should be nervous.” “Yes,” Paige said, totally straight-faced.

There was a small beat—just enough for Livvy to wonder if she was supposed to laugh—before KK clapped her on the shoulder.

“See? You’re already one of us,” she said. “Congrats. No take-backs.”

Livvy rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It felt like they were letting her in, slowly, casually, the way people do when they’re used to a lot of people coming and going. Nothing dramatic. No big welcome speech. Just a quiet kind of ease.

She looked down at her camera. Still rolling. Paige mid-stretch, KK tossing a ball behind her back, Ice in the background flashing a peace sign like she’d been waiting for her cue. None of it posed. All of it gold.

And for the first time since getting the assignment, Livvy didn’t feel like she was sneaking in through a side door.

She felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She was thriving. Behind-the-scenes shots, interviews in progress, clips and reels practically editing themselves in her head.

This was it. This was the moment she’d worked toward.

Then the gym shifted.

Not in any obvious way—no music drop or record scratch—but Livvy felt it. A shift in the energy. Like the air itself straightened up.

Azzi Fudd had just walked in.

Same jersey as everyone else. Same media day setup.

But somehow, she made it look like a campaign shoot.

Hair slicked into a high bun, two braids framing her face, lashes curled, skin glowing—like she’d stepped out of a Gatorade commercial and directly into Livvy’s field of vision.She looked like confidence incarnate—cool, composed, completely effortless.

Livvy didn’t mean to stare. But she did.

Then she smiled. And for a second, everything else just… slowed.

“Hey,” Azzi said, walking right up to her. “You must be Livvy, right?”

Azzi smiled, then hesitated — just for a second. Like she wasn’t sure if she got it right.

Livvy blinked.

Livvy.

Not Olivia. Not “media girl.” Not “hey, um…” with a pause while trying to remember. Just Livvy.

She always introduced herself as Olivia. Professors, new classmates, even the job confirmation email from the media director had “Olivia Johnson” bolded in the header. Only people who really knew her—her roommates, KK, and a few others—ever used Livvy. It wasn’t that she hated it. She just liked to control who got that version of her.

And Azzi Fudd? She’d never given her permission.

Her brain: static. Her heart: malfunctioning. Her mouth: unreliable at best.

“Olivia,” she said automatically. It came out sharper than she meant it to.

Azzi didn’t flinch. “Oh—sorry,” she said, still smiling. “KK said Livvy, so I just figured…”

Of course. KK. Livvy nodded quickly, too quickly. “No, it’s fine. It’s… both, I guess.”

“Cool.” Azzi’s grin turned softer, tilted. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Livvy couldn’t figure out how to hold eye contact and breathe at the same time, so she looked down at her camera instead.

“Yeah. You too.”

She was proud of herself for getting the words out, even if her voice cracked halfway through like a preteen on stage at a spelling bee.

Azzi lingered for a second longer, then moved toward the backdrop setup, already joking with one of the team managers as she walked away.

Livvy stood there, completely frozen. Her camera still rolling, though she had no idea what it was even pointed at.

She should’ve said something cooler. Or smiled. Or literally anything besides correct her and then glitch out like a buffering Zoom call.

But all she could think about was the way Azzi said her name—like it already belonged to her. Like she’d said it before. It shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did.

Livvy wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she hadn’t met athletes before. Big names. Bigger egos. She usually handled it fine—better than fine. But Azzi wasn’t loud or cocky or even trying all that hard. She was just... present. Calm. Confident in this way that felt entirely unbothered and somehow still personal.

And Livvy—who prided herself on staying sharp, on reading people before they ever opened their mouths—had nothing.

No read. No game plan. Just a flicker of something that made her brain short out and her feet forget how to move.

So she did the only thing that felt safe: she turned and filmed literally anyone else.

Textbook distraction. Totally fine. Nothing to unpack there.

****

Livvy found her rhythm somewhere between an impromptu one-on-one with Aaliyah about pregame rituals and a surprisingly detailed post-practice snack breakdown with Ice. Her camera felt like an extension of her arm again, her questions coming out clean and casual, her confidence slowly rebuilding after the Azzi incident, as she was now calling it in her head.

Once the players dispersed for a quick break, Livvy took her shot—drifting toward the cluster of coaching staff lingering near the scorer’s table. She’d studied them all for years, especially Geno Auriemma. He was a walking legend, the kind of figure who didn’t need to raise his voice to own a room. But Livvy had always admired Chris Dailey—CD—too. The glue. The tone-setter. The one who made sure everything ran exactly how it was supposed to.

She approached carefully, not wanting to interrupt whatever conversation they were mid-having, but CD noticed her first.

"You’re Olivia, right?"

Livvy nodded, offering a quick, composed smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’m the media intern for this semester.”

"Ah, we’ve heard about you," CD said with a grin that didn’t feel intimidating—just observant. "You’ve got a good eye."

Geno turned toward her, arms crossed, squinting slightly like he was trying to figure out if she was worth his time or not. Classic.

"What kind of stuff are you looking to do with the team this season?" he asked.

Livvy swallowed but kept her voice steady. "I want to tell the stories behind the moments. Not just post highlights, but give people a reason to care about the team beyond the scoreboard. The little things that make this group who they are."

Geno arched a brow. "You come up with that line yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

He paused for a second. Then, to her absolute shock, nodded.

"That’s good," he said. "Most people don’t ask anything worth answering. Keep doing that."

Livvy’s heart swelled in this ridiculous, middle-school-way. She knew it was just a small compliment. Maybe not even a real one. But still—Geno Auriemma said that was good. She’d put that in her memoir someday.

By the time the players were back and Livvy had cleared the audio from her first round of interviews, she was already prepping for the next task: the Big East schedule reveal video. It was something the media team wanted to push out by the weekend—a simple social piece, just players sharing game dates and opponents with personality and flair. Easy enough, in theory.

She called the team together in front of the practice court backdrop, marking a spot with blue tape on the floor and adjusting her camera height to make sure everyone stayed in frame. KK was immediately on board.

"So what, like we just say the date and team and make it spicy?"

"Basically," Livvy said. "You can add your own spin to it—just don’t cuss and don’t say anything that’ll get me fired."

"Bet," KK said, already spinning a ball on her finger.

The first few clips were gold—Jana randomly popping into frame behind Ice and whispering "Villanova, we’re coming for you" like it was a secret mission, Ayanna rapping the Seton Hall date with impressive flow, and Paige doing a full mock press conference intro for the Georgetown game, complete with fake media questions and a water bottle she pretended was a mic.

Livvy could feel herself relaxing. Laughing. Actually having fun.

She made sure to give each player time to come up with how they wanted to deliver their line, giving little suggestions here and there, throwing in encouragements like, "That was perfect—one more for safety," or "If you point to the camera on the last word, it’ll hit harder."

They listened. They joked with her. They trusted her.

And then it was Azzi’s turn.

Livvy glanced down at her clipboard, blinking too many times. "Okay, Azzi—you’ve got… Creighton. January."

Azzi stepped up into the marked spot, already in uniform, the number 35 bold against her chest, hair still tied back from media day headshots. She smiled. "What’s the vibe? Serious? Funny? You want me to do a dance?"

Livvy opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Azzi tilted her head, patient. “Livvy?”

The way she said her name—it did something. Again.

Then she paused, smile softening just a little. “Sorry. Olivia, right?”

Livvy nodded, trying not to overreact. “Yeah. I mean—either’s fine. Just… Olivia here, I guess.”

Azzi nodded, like she got it. “Cool. Olivia, then.”

Azzi’s grin didn’t change, but her eyes flicked down, then back up. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Simple. Easy. No attitude. No weirdness. But Livvy still felt her stomach do something it definitely wasn’t supposed to.

Livvy cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah—sorry. Just… you can do whatever feels natural. Maybe, like, toss the ball and catch it on the name? Or say the date while spinning it? Or… whatever. It’s… January 12th. Creighton. At home."

She watched Azzi nod slowly, but her brain was already drifting—off course and out of reach.

Her eyes kept locking on Azzi’s face, like her focus had a mind of its own. The easy lift of her smile, like she wasn’t even trying. The way her cheekbones caught the light, all clean lines and soft angles. Her lashes, long enough to brush the tops of her cheeks when she glanced down at the ball in her hands.

Everything about her looked calm. Effortless. Like she didn’t know she was magnetic. Or maybe she did—and just didn’t care.

Livvy blinked, willing herself to focus. But it was like trying to grab hold of fog—everything soft around the edges, nothing solid to land on.

She should’ve been checking the white balance. Adjusting focus. Noticing that the mic was still live, recording the soft sound of Azzi’s laugh like it belonged in a documentary. But her body wasn’t cooperating. Her thoughts kept slipping, circling back to the shape of Azzi’s mouth when she said her name. The curve of her wrist when she spun the ball. And she waited. Not impatient, not bored. Just... there. Like Livvy was worth standing still for.

She had filmed dozens of athletes. She’d interviewed Olympians. She’d never lost her composure like this.

Not until now.

Azzi tried a first take. It was good. Clean. Playful. Livvy couldn’t tell you a single word she said.

"Was that okay?" Azzi asked, turning toward her.

Livvy blinked. "What?"

Azzi laughed. "You good?"

Livvy nodded way too fast. "Yep. Great. That was great. Just one more, if you’re good with it."

"Sure," Azzi said, smile still there, but something gentler in her eyes now. Curious, maybe.

Livvy watched the second take through the viewfinder, this time forcing herself to focus. It was clean. Framed perfectly. The light skimmed along Azzi’s jawline—sharp, soft, perfect in a way that made Livvy forget what she was framing. She’d aimed for a promo reel. Somehow ended up with a love letter.

She hit stop and stepped back.

She was in trouble.

Like, full-on, textbook, this is not good trouble.

Because whatever she had been trying to ignore—explain away, avoid thinking about—it had a name now. A face. A laugh.

And it was wearing number 35.

****

Livvy didn’t make it five steps into the apartment before Maddie glanced up from her laptop and said, “You look like someone who just publicly embarrassed herself and is trying to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Natalie, on the couch with a tub of hummus and half a sleeve of pita chips, didn’t even look away from the TV. "Tell me it was Paige. Please tell me you embarrassed yourself in front of Paige."

Livvy dropped her bag by the door and face-planted directly into the couch cushions with a dramatic groan. "It wasn’t Paige."

"Wait, what?" Natalie blinked, finally turning. "It wasn’t Paige?"

Maddie closed her laptop halfway. "I’m sorry, then who? You said Paige was the most likely to make you combust."

Livvy rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling like it might hold the answer. "I thought she would be. I was mentally prepared for that. Paige was great—funny, chill, very deadpan. But it was… it wasn’t her."

Natalie leaned forward like this was the latest episode of a show she’d been binging. “Okay, then who was it? Because if you’re telling me it was like… Nika Muhl, I’m going to scream.”

Livvy dragged her forearm over her face. “It was Azzi.”

Both girls froze.

“Azzi?” Maddie repeated.

Natalie blinked, pita chip halfway to her mouth. “As in… Fudd?”

“No, as in the other Azzi on the team,” Livvy deadpanned, voice muffled into the pillow.

Maddie let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“I know.”

“She smiled at you, didn’t she?”

Livvy peeled the pillow away just enough to reveal one eye. “She said my nickname. Without me telling her. Just walked up and was like, ‘You must be Livvy,’ all confident and nice and devastating.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Natalie said, pointing at her. “Back up. She just casually calls you Livvy out of nowhere?”

Livvy groaned into the pillow. “No. KK told her. Like, mentioned me by name ahead of time. So Azzi walks up, all radiant and unbothered, and goes, ‘You must be Livvy,’ and I—like an actual idiot—corrected her. I said, ‘Olivia,’ in this weird robot voice like I was doing customer service.”

Maddie winced. “Oh no.”

Natalie popped the chip in her mouth and nodded like she’d solved a math equation. “You have a type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Livvy snapped, then immediately regretted how quickly she said it.

Maddie raised an eyebrow. “You literally spiraled over less your freshman year.” “That was different.”

“Was it?”

Livvy buried her face again.

“I’m just confused,” Natalie said. “You’ve filmed, like, Olympians. You’ve handled postgame interviews with sweaty, shirtless football players. Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Livvy said, voice muffled again. “It’s not just that she’s hot. I mean—yes. Painfully. But it wasn’t that. Not really.”

Natalie made a dramatic gagging sound and kept eating.

Livvy ignored her. “It was just… weird. Not bad weird. Just… off. Like she threw off my rhythm and I haven’t figured out how to get it back yet.”

Maddie tilted her head. “What even happened?”

Livvy exhaled through her nose. “She said my name, and I corrected her. That was the start. But the schedule reveal thing? That was the real moment. I couldn’t explain what I wanted her to do. I blanked. Completely. My brain just gave up. I couldn’t stop looking at her face.”

“So your downfall was caused by cheekbones,” Natalie said.

Livvy grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at her.

“I’m being serious!” she said, catching it. “You’re rattled.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Livvy muttered. “I’ve interviewed literal Olympians. I’ve filmed postgame locker rooms with half-naked volleyball players. I’ve never—never—lost my train of thought like that. And she wasn’t even trying to be anything. Just… standing there. Existing.”

“So why do you think she threw you off?” Maddie asked, more gently now.

“I don’t know,” Livvy said. And that was the part that bugged her the most. “I’ve been trying to figure it out since it happened. It’s not like I’ve never been around girls like her before. It wasn’t the attention. It wasn’t nerves. It was just… something.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re reading too much into it?”

“Maybe.” But Livvy didn’t believe that. Not really.

“Or maybe,” Natalie said, licking hummus off her thumb, “your brain just short-circuited because she’s literally Azzi Fudd and you’re literally you.”

“Wow,” Livvy said. “So insightful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Natalie grinned.

Maddie closed her laptop. “So what now? You gonna avoid her for the rest of the season?”

“Can’t,” Livvy said. “She’s in half the content plan for the next two months.”

Natalie snorted. “RIP.”

Livvy sighed, flopping onto her back again. “You guys are useless.”

“We prefer the term emotionally supportive in our own way,” Maddie said.

Natalie raised her hummus in a toast. “To your spiral.”

And even though Livvy’s brain was still looping through the whole interaction like it was stuck in playback mode, she laughed. Because if she was going to unravel, at least she wasn’t doing it alone.

By the time she rendered the final schedule reel and uploaded it to the shared drive for approval, it was almost 10 p.m. Her eyes were dry, her shoulders ached from hunching over her desk, and her Celsius had gone warm and tragic beside her keyboard. Still, she sat there—glowing laptop screen casting her room in a tired blue haze—clicking through photo stills like she didn’t know exactly which one she was stalling on.

KK and Paige laughing mid-interview, Ice in the background throwing peace signs. Ayanna flexing with a completely serious expression like she was about to drop a mixtape. Even Chris Dailey had cracked a grin in one of the outtakes—an actual miracle.

And then there was Azzi.

Tying her sneakers. A soft smile caught mid-rise. Hoodie sleeves scrunched up to her elbows. Not posed. Not polished. Just... there. A moment, quiet and unbothered. It wasn’t posed. Wasn’t planned. Just a freeze-frame that felt stolen and true.

She stared at it for longer than she meant to.

It wasn’t even the best photo. A little off-center. The depth of field wasn’t what she’d planned. But there was something about it. Something that made her stomach do that annoying thing again.

God, pull it together, she thought, dragging the file into her edits folder and naming it AZZI-003 like it wasn’t the third time she’d retitled the same clip.

She exhaled slowly, leaned back in her chair, and typed up the most neutral email she could manage:

Subject: Big East Schedule Video — Draft 1 Attached is the first cut. Let me know if you’d like overlays, captions, or a different ending sequence. Photos coming in the morning.

Short. Clean. No spiraling. Perfectly normal media girl things.

She shut her laptop with a snap and rolled into bed, trying not to think about the way Azzi had said her name like it wasn’t the first time. Livvy. Not “Olivia.” Not “hey, uh, what was it again?” 

It wasn’t the name that got her. It was the way Azzi said it. Familiar. Certain. Like she'd earned it.

But it wasn’t just the name.

…Like Livvy was interesting. Like she mattered. And maybe that was nothing. Or maybe it was something.

Either way, Livvy couldn’t stop replaying it. Not just the way Azzi said her name. But the way she waited for her answer. Like she cared what it was.

Wanted to believe that someone like Azzi Fudd could say her name like that and mean it. That it wasn’t just charm or politeness or whatever brand of calm confidence Azzi woke up with every morning. That it was personal. Somehow.

She groaned and flipped onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow.

It wasn’t. Obviously. Azzi was just nice. Friendly. The kind of girl who remembered people’s names and smiled when she said them. That’s all.

Still, Livvy’s heart felt annoyingly loud in her chest.

She was so screwed.

Because tomorrow wasn’t a break. Tomorrow was practice access. Meaning behind-the-scenes coverage. Meaning sideline video. Meaning: Azzi. Again. In daylight. In high def. Breathing the same air.

Livvy buried her face in her blanket.

She was fine. Totally fine. A professional, obviously. Definitely not spiraling.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi hope it’s not too late to request for lmk please . Can I please request yandere platonic rivalry between Redson and Mei hcs please with a gn reader , who’s a cat demon please(I hc that dragonfruit duo are very warm cause one produces fire and the other one is a dragon and well cats likes warmth XD ) 🐾

Sure! I put some HC in this so I hope this was pretty good ^^ Cat Darling is going to be super affectionate....

Yandere! Platonic! Red Son vs Mei with Cat Demon! Darling

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Overly affectionate behavior, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Kidnapping briefly mentioned, Dubious companionship(s).

In this universe, there's demons of all types.

All sorts of demons take on an animal-like form.

It would make sense for there to be a cat demon.

Maybe you can shapeshift into a normal cat form while also having a humanoid form?

You're quite intelligent and retain characteristics similar to a cat.

You like playing, pulling tricks, bargaining for attention...

Along with warm places.

For this, I will use a personal HC of mine.

Characters with fire powers, no matter the fandom, have an elevated body temperature in my personal opinion.

I feel the same way with Red Son and Mei.

These two characters were both wielders of the Samadhi Fire and control fire.

Mei has draconic ancestry and Red Son himself is a fire demon.

Naturally their body temp would be high due to all the fire within them.

Having them as your friends would be perfect for you.

I feel a cat demon would naturally be affectionate with them due to their heat.

You no doubt purr at them, occasionally rubbing against them when you hug.

That or even swap to your fully cat form and curl up in their lap.

The two no doubt handle this differently.

Mei, who naturally enjoys cute things, probably squeals over you.

She struggles to hold still when you come to her for affection, purring away once she offers to share her body heat.

She'd probably swing your cat form around, cooing over her dear friend as she pats your ears and soft fur.

She's the most affectionate of the two and would reciprocate your nature immediately.

She'd love a cat demon friend, especially if they are mischievous like her.

Then there's Red Son, who acts like he doesn't enjoy it.

Yet even you can tell it's a lie when he reaches over to gently pet your fur.

He pouts when you curl up on his lap in cat form, purring as he "reluctantly" gives you the affection you crave.

He tries not to be as affectionate, but since you and Mei are two of his only friends, he can't help but enjoy it when you pick him for affection.

The two around Season 5 from what I've seen are relatively good friends.

Red Son still hates to admit it, but he's like that with many people.

I imagine the rivalry would start with Red Son actually.

He often sees you and Mei together hanging out, the dragon affectionately fluffing you and cooing over you.

You're purring away in Mei's arms, which makes Red Son seethe.

Truth is, he's jealous that you and Mei have such a close connection.

Mei just seems to get along with everyone.

That and Red Son often pushes people like you away.

Really, It's Red Son's own fault that you don't come to him first.

This would lead to him trying to bribe you into paying more attention to him.

Do cat demons like toys?

Do you want a heated blanket?

He can increase his temp for you if it means you'll sit by him!

He really isn't sure why he feels so desperate to get you away from Mei.

Maybe he really is attention starved?

Mei would pick up on this, realizing she's not only making Red Son jealous...

But he's trying to take you from her.

She originally teases him for this, saying he could've asked you for affection.

Although, deep down, she doesn't really like sharing all that much either.

That's how the rivalry would start.

It's all really petty like most platonic rivalries are.

Red Son can't seem to properly express his feelings which causes him to try and steal you, which irritates Mei.

Mei could probably share you, but Red Son expresses possessive behavior when he has you in his lap, looking all smug.

Honestly, they're probably both easily jealous due to their lineage.

Poor you may just not choose either of them one day, leaving to hide yourself away somewhere quiet to rest.

Only to feel yourself being carried later by one of them holding you tight, their body heat lulling you to another slumber.

You're probably friends with both of them, yet it can be overwhelming when the two keep trying to fight for your affection.

The two probably just really enjoy cats, which means they enjoy you.

Your purr is adorable and your fur is so soft.

The rivalry is almost like two pet parents trying to win the favor of their pet.

It sounds dehumanizing, but you are mostly a cat, after all.

You may hide away when overwhelmed, yet you don't mind the attention.

In fact, seeing their arguments is amusing to you.

You sometimes just sit in your humanoid form, watching the two argue over who's the better "heating pad".

Truth is, you care for them both somewhat.

You may be wary of their selfish and possessive behavior...

Yet you enjoy their company.

Would either of them kidnap you?

I mean... maybe?

I can see them holding you in cat form then running off to your home to hide you from the other.

Both of them have bought you gifts, keeping you in their home with a cat bed and other cat related items.

You don't mind, it's all amusing to you.

Until they start to restrict your freedoms.

Would they get into fights?

Yes, sometimes physical ones yet it isn't like they're trying to kill one another.

They're both just naturally combative.

Overall, like many platonic rivalries, it's mostly petty stuff.

Both just happen to enjoy their furred demon companion.

Although, the two often challenge each other to see who likes you more...

Hopefully you won't have to decide who's the better friend anytime soon.

[aloy-sobek]

Thinking about how the BG3 crew view chronic pain

Lae'zel would be insufferable about how pain is strength. However I think if given a change to swap bodies, Lae'zel would see you as the ultimate warrior. Strongest, mightiest, most fearless creature. ESPECIALLY a romanced Tav as Lae'zel gains a softer perspective of life. But good gods would she be annoying at first.

Wyll gets it. Eye still hurts him. Half the time he gets migraines because of his fucked vision and the other half it's phantom pains from where his eye used to be. His prosthetic gets dry. Needs to be cleaned and can cause irritation. He gets it.

Halsin is similar, he's older sure, but got a nasty scar on his face that smarts from time to time. Facial injuries stay hurting even once they've healed. He would offer natural healing, not in a crunchy way, but in a way to help sooth. Probably lots of massages.

Gale is a walking chronic pain. He is also a good example of doing that pain to yourself. The kind of chronic pain where you know it's your fault you're in this mess but also by gods it still awful. It's one thing to be punished for your stupidity, it's entirely different to suffer continuously.

Karlach, I mean, come on. She is the embodiment of chronic pain. Her insides are literally on fire. She riddled with scar tissue. She's known nothing but pain for over a decade. She's a good dark humor chronic pain friend 😌

Astarion is no stranger to pain. As a firm believer that he suffers CPTSD, Astarion probably has his far share of Somatic flashbacks. A form of chronic pain often thrown away as irrelevant because there is "no real cause." As if the past traumas of the body wasn't cause enough. He however at first would be a shithead about your pain, but as time rolled on, would sympathize, over a glass of medicinal wine.

Shadowheart literally has a chronic pain button in her hand. Granted it's being pushed by a god but if we thing about it, don't we all. She'd be sassy about it though. Heaven forbid she be too vulnerable, maybe for Tav and she would feel for a Tav in pain. Curse that moon witch empathy.

Minsc would try and fight your pain away. Which would be quite endearing. He would also be extra gentle around Tav. Not realizing chronic pain did not mean fragile. Boo is doing his best to explain.

Jaheira knows. She's been around a block or two. Fought a thing or two. Pain isn't something she's new too, but chronic? That isn't an enemy she deals with. She'd sit and talk with you on bad days. Keep you company. Good friend in that way.

[malevessel]

Jackson was a normal young man.

He studied and worked to pay for his studies. In general, he could be said to be a boring person.

He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't handsome either; he wasn't fashionable, but he wasn't badly dressed either; he wasn't a gym rat, but he worked out regularly........Overall, just a normal young man.

As for his relationships, they were normal too. He got along well with his parents, but that was normal in his city, he had a couple of friends, and he had had a couple of relationships, which ended badly. The first one was with a girl, who left him when she found out that Jackson was bisexual, and the second one was with a guy, when he cheated on him.

As a child, Jackson had been friends with Ethan, a young man who quickly formed a solid friendship with Jackson.

However, Ethan's life was very different from Jackson's. Ethan's family was very, very rich; and despite the nice friendly relationship between the two, they soon went to different schools, and although they kept in touch, it was no longer the same. It had not been their fault. Ethan's family was quite classist and they did not like their son to associate much with the "poor."

They had taken different paths. However, Jackson had always kept in touch with his friend. Now they met from time to time to talk. It was very strange to see them, since both did not look alike physically and yet they were super similar in everything else.

Ethan had grown up as a young athlete and over the years he had gotten several tattoos. It was incredible how he could camouflage himself however he wanted. One day he could appear in a suit and tie, fitting into his family's standards, and the next day he would wear a more urban style, with oversized t-shirts and cargo pants. And for the people around them the most fun were the moments when they met again. Jackson arrived at places with his old truck while Ethan made an appearance with his new Ford Raptor. It was very rare to see two such different people get along so well. And Jackson couldn't help but be envious of his friend's life from time to time.

But it was Ethan who he really envied. Yes, he was very rich, but everything else was an empty life. His parents had not shown him affection or concern for him in a long time. He had tried to get their attention many times, even in bad ways. He had started partying, smoke, and getting tattoos expecting to get something, even if it was just a scolding or anger, and instead his father had told him it looked good on him, and moved on. Ethan envied his friend for having a normal life, because wherever Ethan went, people knew who he was.

So, after thinking about it a lot, today, when he had met up with Jackson after months without seeing each other, he asked his friend:

"Hey dude, do you want to swap bodies with me?"

Jackson, turning bright red, could only utter:

"What!!!?"

......................

First of all I would like to apologize to @yngtop18 , since he asked me for this story many months ago and I didn't do it. Im sorry.

I also wanted to say that this is the first of two parts. The next one will be published after Friday, probably even next week, since I have an important exam on the 14th.

As always, I remain open to your requests.