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simpforboys · 8 months ago

Text

nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

#simpforboys #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #obx #obx4 #drew starkey

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celabi · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

5k words pwsp, face riding/sitting, pussy eating, subby/bottom sae. errr basically he’s down bad for ur kitty and is obsessed w/you.

sae itoshi isn't the type to do grand gestures. he doesn't believe in clichés or over the top romance. but today, he walks with you in silence, hands in his pockets, that same bored expression on his face, though his steps are slower, like he's trying to match your lazy pace.

you don't question it when he pulls open the door to a sleek, minimalistic jewelry store. the kind with glass cases, soft lighting, and prices no one talks about out loud.

"what are we doing here?" you ask, glancing around.

"looking." he says, short and vague, like always. but you can see the way his eyes dart across the displays, landing on one case in particular.

he doesn't ask for help. just walks straight over and stares down at a ring. simple. gold. nothing flashy. just elegant enough to catch the light. and when you peer over his shoulder from behind, curiosity bubbled in your chest. "for your mom or something?"

he doesn't answer. instead, he nods curtly towards the attendant, and just says, "that one."

the woman behind the counter lifts it carefully and asks if he would like to have it gift wrapped, but all he does is casts you a quick side glance, his expression unreadable.

"no," he says. "she'll be wearing it out."

your head snaps up as you blink. "what?"

sae finally turns to look at you, and that's when you see that flicker of something behind those icey blue eyes of his. something unspoken. he takes the ring before gently reaching out for your hand. his touch is soft as he lightly traces your knuckles.

"just wear it," he mutters, sliding it onto your ring finger. "you don't have to say anything."

it fits perfectly, and you really don't know what to say as you trail behind him when he approaches the register, the soft click of his shoes echoing through the otherwise quiet boutique. he pulls out his black card like it's nothing, like it doesn't scream power and wealth and a life far removed from the normal lifestyle.

the cashier takes it with two inviting hands, overly polite, overly cautious. she also flutters her long eyelashes and bites her plump lip, but you don't care enough to comment on her overly flirtatious attitude, and neither does he. you say nothing, instead just standing there, staring at the expensive ring now on your finger.

he doesn't look at you while he signs the receipt, he just accepts the small bag she hands him with the box inside, the one the ring would've come in, then tosses it to you without looking.

"keep it." he says, and you catch it clumsily, the bag crinkling in your hand.

outside, he doesn't wait. just walks ahead with that slow, bored saunter of his, like he didn't just do something incredibly intimate in the most casual way possible.

"you always this quiet after buying a girl a ¥300,000 ring?" you ask, jogging to catch up.

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "don't need to buy anyone anything."

"so why me?"

he shrugs. "because you're mine."

you go quiet, hating how your heart beats faster in your chest. stupid sae...

"you gonna run now?" he asks, voice low.

you look down at the ring. turn it once, then twice, examining the shine of the jewel.

"...no." you reply after a small pause.

he doesn't smile out right, but you catch the twitch of his lip. just the barest hint, and for someone like sae, that's practically a confession in itself.

the walk back to his car is quiet, but it's not all that uncomfortable. his fingers brush yours a few times, like he's debating whether or not to hold your hand. he doesn't though. typical sae. always wanting, never asking.

you sit in the passenger seat of his sleek, black mercedes benz, the city lights sliding over his delicate face like soft curtains as he navigates through the streets. you catch him glancing at you a few times as he drives, nothing too obvious, just that subtle, sidelong look he thinks you won't notice.

you finally decide to speak up after some awkward silence when he pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, "you didn't even ask if i liked it."

he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, eyes on the gate as it's slowly being opened by the security. "didn't need to."

"what if i didn't?"

"you did... you do."

you scoff under your breath, but you don't take the ring off. you haven't stopped turning it on your finger since he put it there. when he pulls into the parking garage under his building, neither of you move for a second. the car engine ticks as it cools down, the quietness becomes heavy between you.

"so," you say, voice light. "what now? am i supposed to move in or something? cook you dinner, massage your shoulders?"

he looks at you, almost like he's trying to see something beneath your skin.

"...preferably, but you can do whatever you want," he says, leaning back in his seat. "except taking the ring off."

"is that a rule?"

"it's a warning."

you raise a brow. "so you're threatening me now?"

"no." his voice drops a little. "just... don't want to lose you."

the walk through the garage is quick, and the elevator ride feels like a blur, the soft hum of the machinery barely audible between the tension thickening the air. sae stands just a bit too close, his shoulder grazing yours as he presses the button for the floor. he doesn't need to say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like he's measuring you, trying to see if you'll pull away or stay in his space.

when the elevator dings, the doors open to reveal his apartment, and it's exactly what you expect, luxurious, pristine, almost unnervingly perfect. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, casting a glow that makes the place look like something out of a movie. everything is so clean, so meticulously placed.

even the air smells expensive, it's almost intoxicating, a sharp contrast to your own home scent which is filled with laundry detergent and fresh food, but it's not entirely unwelcoming. it just feels like the kind of space where you're meant to be admired.

he holds the door open for you, just a small gesture, but there's an undeniable possessiveness in it. like he's claiming the space and now he's claiming you too. you step inside, taking in the layout with a curious gaze.

everything is in its place. the living room is sleek, with low leather sofas and a wall of glass that overlooks the city below. a few paintings hang in carefully chosen spots, but none of them draw your attention as much as the emptiness of the room. he's a minimalist. or maybe just hasn't had the time to go furniture shopping after returning from spain.

sae closes and locks the door behind him, stepping into the apartment like it's nothing new, but you can see the way his body tenses. it's almost like he's waiting for your approval, waiting to see what you think of his space.

"make yourself at home." he says, it sounding more like a command than an offer.

you nod, taking a seat on the couch, not exactly sure what to do with yourself in this perfectly curated world of his. you trace the edge of the coffee table, running your fingers over the smooth surface. everything about this place screams power and control, but you don't feel like you belong here. not yet, anyway.

sae, however, doesn't sit down. he stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on you.

"you like it?" he asks, voice soft but serious, like he needs the validation from you.

"it's nice," you say casually, glancing around. "a little... sterile."

he chuckles under his breath, walking over to the bar and grabbing himself a drink. sae was more accustomed to pouring himself a glass of whiskey than to catering to the needs of guests. "i... don't like clutter."

you watch him move and the easy confidence with which he handles himself. but there's a tension in the way he stands. like there's something he's trying to keep under control, something he's not showing you just yet.

"you don't like a lot of things." you sigh, trying to break the ice, even if it's just a little.

he looks at you over his shoulder, a faint smile curling on his lips. "you'd be surprised."

for a moment, you almost want to ask what exactly he's trying to hide, what's underneath all the wealth, the luxury, the polished exterior. but instead, you just lean back against the couch and let the silence settle between you. something tells you that he'll show you eventually.

he moves over and sits beside on you couch like he doesn't know what to do with himself, elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward, eyes flickering toward you every few seconds before darting away again. for once, itoshi sae doesn't look like the calculated prodigy everyone sees on the field. he looks... awkward, and... lame.

his fingers brush against your side, ghosting over the hem of your shirt. not enough to grab, just enough for you to feel the contact. and he keeps doing it, like he's testing the waters, seeing how far he can go before you pull away. he's not cocky now. not smug. he's quiet. careful. and when his knuckles bump against your hip, he finally wraps his fingers around the fabric, not tightly, but like he needs something to hold onto.

you glance at him, and his eyes meet yours for a split second before he looks away again, jaw tense. he's trying so hard to keep his cool, but his foot is bouncing ever so slightly against the floor, and his grip on your shirt tightens the longer the silence stretches.

"you're weird tonight." you murmur.

he exhales a soft laugh, barely a breath. "you're in my house."

"so?"

"you've never been here before." his voice is low, almost like it's something he's been thinking about all night. "it feels different."

you raise an eyebrow. "different how?"

he shrugs, still playing with the hem of your shirt. "don't know. just... like you belong here."

you blink, thrown off by the way he said it. so quietly. so honestly, and now he's looking at you again. eyes sharp but unsure, like he wants to say something else but doesn't know how.

you shift a little closer, and he doesn't move away. his hand slides up your waist, like he's waiting for you to stop him. but you don't, so he keeps going, hand resting just at the curve of your side. he's watching your face for a reaction, lips parted like he's about to say something, then decides against it.

"you can do more than just play with my shirt, y'know." you whisper.

his ears go a little red. and then finally, his expression shifts. that familiar spark returns, just a flicker of confidence in his eyes. his hand tightens, and he pulls you a little closer, his voice low and rough.

"don't say that unless you mean it."

he leans in slightly, his breath brushing against your cheek, and for a moment, you think he might pull away again. but he doesn't. his hand slides up your side, fingertips grazing the edge of your shirt before he hesitates, just for a second. the uncertainty is still there, but there's a heat building between you two, like everything he's been holding back is finally getting too much to contain.

you're so close and the tension is almost unbearable. his lips part as if he's about to speak, but the words die in his throat when you move closer, just enough to close the gap. sae's gaze darkens, pupils widening as his breath hitches, the moment stretching like it's going to break any second.

then, before either of you can think twice, he's kissing you. it's rough at first, his hand moving quickly to your neck, pulling you into him like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. his lips are warm and hungry, and it's all a little messy, but it's real. there's a desperation to it, a need you haven't seen much of from him before.

you respond, your own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your fingertips. sae's body presses into yours, as if there's no space between you left to breathe. he deepens the kiss, his fingers griping the back of your neck, tugging you closer as though he can't get enough of you. you feel him shiver against you, like he's struggling to keep his composure, like he wants to be in control, but you're slowly taking that power from him, and he's completely fine with it.

his kiss becomes softer for a moment, more tender, as if he's realizing that this is actually happening. that he's not just imagining it. he pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, eyes dark with desire but also... something else. something deeper.

"fuck," he mutters, almost to himself. "you drive me fucking insane."

you hum softly, fingers brushing against the side of his sharp jaw. "mm? kind of embarrassing, honestly..."

he chuckles, that small, familiar arrogance returning to his face, but there's still a hint of vulnerability. "can't help it when it's you."

you're both breathless now, but for the first time in a long time, you don't need to say anything. the silence between you speaks volumes. and in that moment, you realize that whatever this is, whatever he is, it's not just about playing soccer together anymore.

sae breathed softly as he felt your body nestle against his own, your frame fitting perfectly into the hard planes of his lap. he could feel the soft swell of your breasts pressed against his firm chest, and the warmth of your breath mingling with his own as you gazed down at him through your pretty lashes

"god... you're so fucking beautiful..." he murmured, his voice a low whisper. sae couldn't take his eyes off you, his teal gaze drinking in every detail of your face, the arch of your eyebrows, those glossy lips that parted slightly as if inviting him to kiss.

he knew he should slow down, should give you time to adjust to his devotion, but the feel of your body so close to his own was intoxicating, and he found himself powerless to resist the pull he had towards you.

slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned in closer, his breath mixing with yours as he hovered just an inch away from your lips. "tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "tell me you don't want this, and I will." he searched your eyes, his own gaze intense and demanding. "but if you don't..."

"...if i don't?"

he felt a thrill run through him at your breathless whisper, the way your lips parted slightly as if in anticipation of what he has to offer.

"if you don't..." he murmurs, his voice a low and seductive rumble. "then i'm going to bend you over this couch and—" he sucks in a breath.

instead of finishing, his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you closer against him. you could feel the hard, muscular tone of his body, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. his other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a soft caress.

"just... tell me you want it too," sae breathes, his eyes searching yours. "tell me you crave me much as I crave you." he was so close now, his lips a mere whisper away from your own. "let me worship you as you deserve to be worshipped."

with that, he closed the remaining distance between you, his mouth capturing yours in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent up longing and desire, of a hunger that could only be tamed by the taste of your lips. his kiss was demanding and insistent, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth to claim you fully as his own.

"ah.. s-sae..."

he groaned softly against your mouth as he heard you breathe out his name, the sound sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to his pants. his hand slid from your spine to hold the back of your head and deepen the kiss. he licked into your mouth, his tongue stroking along yours that left you both breathless and aching.

his other hand slid down to the hem of your top, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to caress the bare skin of your lower back. he could feel the heat of your body radiating against his own, and it made his fucking head spin.

he pulled back slightly, his chest heaving as he gazed up at you with eyes dark and heavy lidded. "get up. now," he growled, his voice rough with need. without waiting for a response, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the hallway that led to what you assume to be his bedroom.

the room was dark, the only light coming from the glowing madrid night skyline visible through the floor to ceiling windows. sae kicked the door shut behind him before carrying you to the large, king sized bed that dominated the entire space. too big for one person.

he set you down gently on the soft mattress, his body covering yours as he settled between your parted thighs. sae hovered over you, his eyes blazing with intensity as he gazed down at your face.

"[name]..." he breathed, his voice a low murmur. his hand slid up your side, his fingers skimming over the curves of your breast before cupping the soft mounds in his large, calloused palm. he could feel your nipple hardening beneath the thin fabric of your top, and it made his crotch tighten in his jeans.

"tell me what you want," he urged softly, his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast. "tell me how to please you, and I will."

"..." you swallow, idly tracing his knuckles with your fingers. "anything you want, sae."

a small, shuddering breath fell from his parted lips at at your quiet murmur, a glint of pure satisfaction in his eyes. "fuck yes..." he pretty much sobbed, and without warning, lunged forward and captured your lips in another kiss. his mouth moved demandingly over yours, his tongue delving deep past your teeth.

his hands slid down to the hem of your top, yanking it up and over your head in one impatient motion. he tossed it carelessly to the floor, his gaze drinking in the sight of your newly exposed skin with a hunger that made your heart pound.

"fuck... you're so perfect." he breathed, his large hands cupping the soft swells of your breasts. he tested their weight, squeezing gently as he leaned down to press open mouthed kisses along the smooth flesh. his tongue flicked out to circle your stiffening nipple, teasing the sensitive peak until it strained towards his touch.

his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling greedily as his hand slid down the plane of your stomach. his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pants, teasing along the edge of your panties.

he could feel the heat radiating from you, could sense the dampness that had begun to gather at the juncture of your thighs. it made his cock throb in his boxers, his own arousal growing more unbearable by the second.

"fuck, sweetheart, i—" he groaned against your breast, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "i wanna taste you... please..."

his fingers pushed your panties aside, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive nub, and at the same time, he nipped and sucked at your nipple. so hard it almost made you want to tell him that you couldn't produce milk. lmao

sae's fingers slid lower, brushing against your slit before, without any warning, shoved one deep inside your tight heat, and groaned at the feel of you. so hot and ready for him as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt relentlessly.

your thighs clench around his hand, dropping your head back a small mewl falls from your lips. it... hurts. sae isn't go slow in the slightest, with his knuckles grinding against your clit with each fast thrust of his fingers. thankfully, he's not wearing those rings that he likes to send you photos of on his veiny hands.

"...want to sit on my face?"

your eyes flutter open after having them screwn shut as his fingers stretch open your insides. "h-huh?"

he let out a choked shudder, those gorgeous eyes of his almost glossy. "ride my face. please... i want it so bad— need it."

"..." you swallow, gripping the sheets under your shaking hands. "...yeah? i can?"

his head snapped up at your hesitant question, eyes glistening. "yes," he coos, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "god, yes, you can."

he urged you up his body, his hands gripping your hips as he lies back against the pillows and guided you to straddle his face, the feel of your crotch hovering so close to his mouth making his head spin, making his dizzy.

"you're going to sit on my face," he shuddered, his breath hot against your folds. "and... and you're gonna ride my tongue until you're all i taste for the next week... please."

sae's hand slid to your thigh, his fingers digging into the soft skin as he spread your legs wider apart, baring you completely to his eyes. he could see the glistening evidence of your arousal, and the way your juices had begun to coat the skin on your inner thighs. "goddd... so fucking wet," he breathed, his voice just a low whisper. "so ready for me, aren't you, baby?"

his fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, a low groan of frustration escaping his lips as he struggled to free himself from the confining denim. his erection was borderline painful, and his aching cock was straining against the zipper and demanding to be released. to be touched. "oh... fuck sake—"

after a small, one sided tussle that he almost lost, he finally manages to yank the button open, freeing his straining hard on from his too tight pants. he shimmies his hips, and with the help of the mattress, is able shove his jeans the rest of the way down his thighs. instantly, his hand is cupping the thick bulge of his cock, squeezing his length through the thin and damp fabric of his calvin klein boxers.

"sit down." he pants, gazing up at you over your pelvis through his glittering lashes, "sit like a chair... don't— don't ask if i can breathe. just sit down."

his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, urging you down, down, until the first swipe of his tongue parted your glistening folds and he groaned long and low against your core.

"fuck, mm— you taste—" he sobs, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your sensitive insides. "i could eat this pretty cunt for, mmfph— h-hours..."

he sealed his mouth over your clit and suckled hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bundle of nerves. at the same time, he thrust his tongue deep inside your walls, fucking you with the slick appendage as he drank down your juices like a man who had been denied water for months.

sae's free, trembling hand slid around to grip the globe of your ass, urging you to grind harder against his mouth. he could feel your thighs trembling against his face, could hear the breathless little moans and cries that spilled from your lips as his tongue fucked you relentlessly.

he couldn't hold back the guttural moan that tore from his throat when he slipped past the waistline of his underwear and finally freed his aching cock from the pocket of his boxers. the thick and twitching shaft sprang out, slapping against his abdomen and leaving a small smear of pre cum on his skin.

sae groaned around your clit as he felt your body start to tremble above him, your muscles tensing and fluttering. he could sense the way your hips began to undulate, grinding your dripping core against his mouth and nose as if seeking more of his touch.

"mhm— that's it, baby," he squeezes his eyes closed tight, tears pooling on his lash line. "so fffucking good f'me..."

his fingers dug into the cheek of your ass, kneading the muscle as he pulled you harder against his face like he wanted to consume you, to devour you whole, to make you his in every way that was humanly possible.

at the same time, he could feel his own release building, his cock throbbing hard and hot in his grip as he stroked himself in time with the frenzied movements of his tongue. so close, so fucking close, and he knew you were too.

the way your walls began to flutter around his invading muscle, the way he could taste the first gush of your arousal as it flooded his mouth. he whimpered pathetically, his hips bucking up into nothing as his hand erratically pumped up and down his red and angry cock.

"gmmm... gonna cum—" despite his words being muffled by your sex, you hear the pure and animalistic tone in his words. you reach down between your quivering thighs and tangle your fingers in his sweaty hair, tugging on the burgundy strands slightly.

he sobs, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at you hazily through his begging eyes. "p-please, fill up my mouth—" he pleads, nails digging into your skin hard enough to indent some moon shaped crescents into your flesh.

you grip the headboard and stare down at him over the slope of your breasts, biting the inside of your cheek as he begs pathetically for you to orgasm. this... this is japan's prodigy? this boy, humping the air and fucking his hand as he goes to town on the city between your legs? this boy?

"s-sae..." you murmur, slightly embarrassed by the small tremor in your tone. you swallow, lifting your hips off his face slightly. and he looks like he's about to cry as his mouth is forcefully unlatched from your pussy, but he doesn't get the chance to when you wordlessly drop back down and grind your folds against his mouth and nose.

that's all it takes.

a raw and somewhat pitiful sound raptures from his scratchy throat, and with a few more pumps from his hand, sae is cumming. hard.

"fuck— oh fuckkkk—!"

his entire body was coiled tight, every muscle drawing up as he teetered on the rope of ecstasy, he cried out, his hips bucking wildly as his orgasm overtook him. thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head of his cock, splattering his chest and abdomen as he rutted his hips against his own hand. some of it even manages to squirt against your back.

tears finally begin to leak from his eyes, gliding down his pale, flawless cheeks and staining the silk pillow underneath his head. his chest heaves under you, his mouth still latched onto your clit.

you stare down at him, eyes slightly narrowing at the sight of his limp and pliant body. "um, e-excuse me...?"

he hums at your quiet words, eyes flickering up, now only lazily flicking his tongue against your salvia coated folds. his hand is still gripping your ass, but much less harshly than before. his fingers are lightly caressing the marks he had given you. "mm, baby? so good, thank you..."

you shake your head, tugging his hair and emitting a small groan from his lips. "w-what...? what'd i do..?" he whispers, only barely audible from under you.

"...it's not what you did..." you scoff. "it's what you didn't do."

there's visible confusion in his hazy eyes, and he lightly taps your hip in a silent question.

"...you haven't made me cum yet."

he blinks. a deeper red hue spreading over his already flushed face. "f— oh..." he gulps, eyes flickering down to your cunt resting on his chin, then back up to your expecting look.

he nods. "y-you're right... m' sorry." he murmurs, releasing his cock, which thuds against his abdomen, still red and leaking, so he can place both hands on your ass. he squeezes the flesh in his palms, kneading it under his calloused fingers.

"sorry, baby..." he repeats, tilting his chin up and pressing his nose back against your dripping core.

"let me... let me fix that."

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haveihitanerve · 1 year ago

Text

My favorite thing about the bats is that… they are gothamites. And sure they scare the shit out of people… but they are in Gotham. Superman is loved by his people, Flash is adored, people pray to Wonder Woman, Green Arrow is feared. But the Bats? The Bats are like all of Gotham's weird older brothers/sisters/parents. Superman and Green Lantern are visiting Batman in Gotham and all of a sudden he gets smacked in the face by a banana and they turn and find a group of teens skateboarding away and one kid calls over his shoulder ‘eat the fucking potassium you absolute brick.’ and Batman doesn't even do anything. Barry is chilling with Nightwing when a girl runs beneath the building they are sitting on and screams “Nice ass Night! But get it the fuck down here, my cats stuck in a tree.” And Nightwing does a flip off the building and just?? helps her?? Wonder Woman and Black Canary are passing through Crime Alley on their way to the Batcave and spot Red Hood standing in an alley, being lectured by a woman who is half his size and she ends the lecture by throwing two sandwiches at his face and walking away. Red Hood just takes his hood off and starts eating. Superboy is helping Red Robin defeat Scarecrow and while they’re hiding, waiting for him to walk into their trap, RR is casually conversing with a Gothamite about Hogwarts Houses, and when he says the Gothamite looks like a Gryfindor he pops his head out and screams “Yo scarecrow hes right fucking here!” J’onn is heading to the Manor to discuss League business with Bruce when he spots Robin(Damian) fighting Riddler all alone and is about to intervene when three teenagers show up and just fucking deck him instead. Damian doesn't thank them, just glowers, and one of the guys goes “you're welcome you fucking brat.” And the girl even smacks the back of his head and goes “manners.” Clark is sent to go find Tim and Steph and Damian and finds them at this girls birthday party, in full costume, eating cupcakes and drinking punch, jumping on the bouncy house and is like “errr, B-Batman needs you home.” And as one the entire birthday party group went “Fuck Batman.” Spoiler was spotted painting these guys nails, Black Bat was seen teaching calculus to a group of teenagers, Batgirl(Babs) was running after a group of kids screaming “Give me back my laptop you fucks!” Just- just the batfamily and Gothamites being annoying to each other and appreciative yet bitches.

Bus driver: stop getting thrown at my fucking bus, i got places to be and my insurance only covers so many shatter windshields and person sized dents Batman: I don't really control where I get thrown Bus Driver: well you better fucking start otherwise theres gonna be another fucking villain on these streets *drives away and almost runs him over* Superman: *gaping* yo-you're just gonna let him do that? Batman: *shrugs* Gotham insurance aint what its cracked up to be Superman: *staring dumbly*

#gothamites and batfamily are like this🤞#they hate each other but love each other #one big happy fucked up family #batfam #batman #batman and robin #bruce wayne #batfamily #gothamites #only in gotham

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livelaughlovesubs · 27 days ago

Note

HI YES IT IS I 🃏 ANON AGAIN, i saw you were just about to close request boxes and i know i just sent one for Sampo a few days ago but ughhh, this has been on my mind recently.

AMAB reader (yes i’m elaborating here) catching nikolai masturbating (could involve his portals, could not) and just reader just fucking him into submission. like at first niko is all cocky about being caught but then he’s just face down ass up being fucked.

soo yeah, shorter request but, just a thing!

Dom!AMAB!reader x sub!nikolai

Warnings: caught masturbation, anal sex (this time the reader is described to have a pp), hair pulling, a little degradation, little bit teasing, maybe edging, dacryphilia

Sometimes less is more :> also I decided to set it in the sky casino cuz why not (edit: I wrote this like a fucking perv what)

“Sigma I’m telling you, I’m hearing strange noises coming out of this room.” You whispered into the telephone, fingers fumbling with the handset cord. The male on the other end of the line looked through some papers, the device clamped between his ear and shoulder. “What’s the number?” He asked, and you squinted your eyes as you stared at the sign. “Errr, 41?” Without missing a beat, he immediately answered, “ah, that’s nikolai’s room. He’s probably doing some magic tricks, no need to panic.” That was quick, did he remember every single guest and their rooms?

“But it sounds like an anima—” before you could finish your sentence, another telephone rang in the background, and the manager, busy as ever, quickly said his goodbyes before hanging up on you. “Wait- listen to me, I swear—” Thud, thud, thud… well damn, guess he really doesn’t have time to spare. Another weird, muffled sound echoed from the room, and you gulped. This was supposedly kolai’s room, then it’d make sense for peculiar noises to erupt from it. Maybe you should let it be…

Yet you found yourself standing right in front of the door, curiosity piqued. You pressed your hand against the door, wanting to knock when you remembered you had a key to his room. He gave it to you, saying he didn’t need one. It was pretty tempting to just go inside and take a look, but your morality prevented you from doing so. In the end, you did knock. Once, twice, then a third time. When nothing happened, you even knocked a fourth time while yelling, “kolai, it’s me.”

How unusual, if Nikolai was in there, he’d come rushing to the door in an instant. Especially if he heard your voice. Since it’s come to this, one look won’t hurt. With a quiet click, you unlocked the room, tiptoeing inside. The moment you peeked around the corner, your eyes were met with a scene akin to a dog in heat.

Nikolai was almost stripped bare, pants pilling around his ankles and jacket dangling from his arms. His mouth agape as he panted heavily, chest heaving with every breath. That white hair of his was loose and spread out over the king sized bed, and his body flushed and sweaty. But the most eye-catching part must be his hand, which was working himself open between parted legs. “Ngh- y/n~… ah, hnngh~~♥︎” he moaned out, voice all slurry and lewd.

Wait a second, did he just moan out your name?

Suddenly a rather loud bang echoed through the room reeking of lust and sex, it was the door falling into the lock behind you. In an instand, his miss-matched eyes met yours, and his movements stilled. “Ah-? What are you doing here?” He asked, pulling his fingers out and cleaning them with the bedsheets, “ohhh right, I gave you the key. Didn’t think you’d use it for voyeurism.” How comes the moment he talks to you he’s ticking you off already?

“You were the whore moaning so loud I almost called security.” You snapped back at him, stepping closer once he smirked. Then you decided to tease him a little, “but I heard you say my name? What kind of dirty fantasy were you having about me?” He leaned back against the headboard, scoffing, “interested in my masturbation habits? My my, how perverted of you.”

“Hah! You seem quite bold for someone who’s been caught.” Nikolai jerked at your comment, his lips spreading into a feral looking grin, “are you disappointed I’m not an embarrassed, blushing damsel?” You moved closer to him, climbing onto the bed, both hands clasped over his knees. “Disappointed? Why, I can still turn you into a blushing mess.” Then you spread his legs, revealing his twitching dick and gaping hole, laughing to yourself, “now I’m starting to think you were waiting for me to catch you. Look how eager you are.”

He cupped his hand over your bulge, scoffing with a pout, “who’s the eager one now? You are the one with dirty intentions.” Suddenly, his legs wrapped around your waist, and he pulled your waistband down, giggling. “Hehe~ so stop talking and fuck me, will ya?” With a dissatisfied scowl, you grabbed his hand, pinning it above his head. “Why does it feel like I’m doing you a favour?” When you saw his cheeky smile and excited expression, you knew why.

“This won’t do, I should be punishing you after all.” You mumbled, and turned him around, still pinning one of his arms over his head. The other hand was holding him by his hips, making him raise his ass up into the air. But you didn’t even need to guide him, he did it willingly, shaking his butt and grinding back against your bulge. “No need to be so serious, we are doing this to have fun after all, riiiiight?” And his breath hitched when he heard the sound of clothes rattling.

Since he already prepared himself, you only needed to squeeze some lube onto your arousal, spreading it around before pressing the tip to his entrance. The next few moment were spend teasing him, edging him on. He couldn’t help but gasp when you inserted the tip, the arm pinned beneath your hand trembling as he whispered, “mhm, feels good~” though you pulled out almost immediately, the other hand caressing his back. “Not yet.” You said, fingertips grazing down his spine.

“N-no! D-don’t tease~!!” He arched his back so nicely for you, pushing his hips out on purpose, you had to savour this moment. “Don’t you like playing games? Don’t worry, it’s not like I won’t ever fuck you.” Then you pressed inside again, only to pull out a few moments later, repeating the tease until he got fed up. He yanked his arm free from your grasp, and pushed himself up a little to glare back at you.

Nikolai faked an angry sigh, saying, “I’d rather use my fingers if you keep this up!” But his cheeks were flushed, a thin layer of sweat covered his shaking body, and his white locks stuck to his forehead. “Are you sure about that?” You wondered, this time inserting more of your length into him, and he noticed immediately. His tight passage stretching to accommodate you, lips parted around a lewd moan, “ahhh..!! F-fuck, d-don’t pull out… dont—!”

You didn’t listen to him, obviously, and he snarled, “hnngh! Are you that offended by what I said? So childish!!” He hit the pillow underneath him, hands bawled into fists as he desperate pushed back to chase the friction. “No, I’m enjoying your reactions.” When he heard your answer, he was the one agitated now. Whipping his head back but stopping once your hand gripped his hair by the roots, making him arch even more. “Arghh~♥︎♡?!” The pain was unexpected, but it felt so good his tongue slipped out of his mouth, eyes blurry as he gasped for air.

“What a nasty masochist you are, acting out of line just to get punished” you chuckled, suddenly slamming into him with one rough thrust. Making him take you whole. His nails dug holes into the pillowcase, voice high pitched and lewd as he groaned, “ah-ahhh!! Finally ♡, ah-hnngh, so deep, feels so- nghh, good♥︎♡♡”

It wasn’t his first time taking you, by no means, but no matter how often he did, he’d always moan like an addicted slut. Was he just that into getting fucked or into you?

When you began moving in a steady rhythm, still in the process of finding his prostate, you let go of his hair, letting him drop face-first back onto the pillow. You needed your hands to grip his waist after all. “Was it here? Ugh- don’t clench down so much, kolai.” Your fingers rubbed circles into his skin, telling him to relax. A wet spot was forming on the pillow, wet from his drool and tears. When you found that sweet spot inside him, he basically melted, hole quivering around you as he tried to grind your tip against the spot.

“T-there, moreeee~ won’t you, pleaaase?” He begged, grinning back at you. “Here, you say?” You hit that place again, to check it out, and he moaned loudly, “hnNghh~♡♡♡ yes, there, there- so gooood~” That’s when you began pressing his head down into the pillows, muffling his voice as you said, “so loud again, want to get caught or what?”

Nikolai tried to answer you, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying, so you simply went back to making a beautiful mess out of him. It was a matter of seconds until he began sobbing on your cock, face and body a flushed ruin yet unable to protest. Not that he wanted to, he was enjoying it like the dirty thing he was. Thrusting back in sync, eyes rolling back as he adored the blissful feeling of you nestled deep inside him.

He could feel his dick twitching and leaking uselessly, the wet squelching sounds of skin against skin echoing off the walls, paired with the muffled whimpers and whines seeping from his parted lips. The last thing he remembered was the heat bubbling in his core, and of course the feeling of you abusing his prostate until he couldn’t breath anymore~ oh this was going to be fun ♡

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starvrse · 7 months ago

Text

CARNIVAL

| pairing : daniela avanzini x fem!reader

| summary : errr u and ur gf go to a fair and u get jealous or wtv

| warnings : g!p daniela, jealousy, p in v, no protection, impregnating talk, ass slapping, cursing, car sex, etc.

| unnecessary bs : 3k words 🙏 glaze me again

walking through the fair, hand in hand with your girlfriend, daniela. the evening air was warm, and the lights of the rides blinked in vibrant colors around you, casting soft glows on the crowd. you had just gotten off the rollercoaster, and now you were both reliving the adrenaline rush. “honestly, that wasn’t even scary, like, at all” you said, replaying the whole ride in your head.

daniela raised an eyebrow, her smile playful but teasing. “don’t even lie!” she grinned, giving you a nudge. “you were screaming so loud, i could hear you over the whole thing.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “i was just vocalizing my excitement.” you said, trying to sound confident.

“vocalizing?” she laughed. “babe, you were straight up shrieking—and you were squeezing my arm so tight, i thought my circulation was gonna cut off!”

you both burst into laughter, walking a little slower now as you shared the moment. “i was just making sure you didn’t fall off the ride.” you joked. daniela laughed lightly, looking down at you. “yeah, right,” she said, still grinning. “i think i’m the one who was keeping you from flying off the coaster with that tight ass grip.”

you sucked your teeth playfully, the conversation dying down. leaving the two of you to walk in a comfortable silence.

as you got closer to the food stands, the scents of sizzling, sweet, and savory foods hit you all at once. your stomach gave an eager rumble, instantly reacting to the aromas drifting through the air.

“babe, it smells so good over here,” you said, your voice almost wistful as your mouth began to water. daniela let out a soft hum of agreement, her eyes scanning the stalls. “i know, right?” she replied, already looking hungry.

“oh my god! we have to get one,” you pointed at the stall that had “funnel cakes” in big, bold red letters. “it’s basically a requirement at the fair.”

daniela laughed, her eyes practically glowing. “oh, 100%. but like, extra powdered sugar,” she grinned, already picturing the perfect funnel cake in her head. “i want it to look like a snowstorm.”

“you’re gonna be in a sugar coma by the time we’re done.” you said to her, chuckling.

“worth it.” she said, glancing at the stand. “but damn baby, this line’s mad long.”

you shrugged, already stepping toward the back of the line. “it’s okay, i’ll wait. you can go mess with the claw machines or something.”

she gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “you sure?” she asked, taking out a 50 dollar bill from her back pocket after you gave her a nod of approval. “i’ll win you a stuffed animal.”

“only if it’s a giant bear.” you teased, taking the money from her hand.

“say less.” she grinned, pecking your lips before walking off toward the claw machines that weren’t too far away.

finally, after what felt like 13 years, you were 3rd in line to get your funnel cake. not like you were counting, but it definitely took longer than expected. looking around, you didn’t see daniela anywhere, so you figured she was still messing with the machines.

when you got your funnel cake; extra powdered sugar, just like she asked. you made your way over to where the claw machines were. and then you saw it.

daniela, laughing—no, giggling way too hard with some girl who was clearly flirting with her. the girl’s hand was casually resting on daniela’s shoulder, and they were definitely way too into whatever was going on. the way daniela’s head tipped back, eyes sparkling… you felt this weird, hot twist in you stomach.

feeling that familiar annoyance rise up, even though you knew you had no reason to be mad. she was allowed to laugh, right? but the way she was acting with this girl made you feel like you were just… there. holding the funnel cakes like some kinda afterthought.

you tried to brush it off, but it was hard. that stupid, jealous feeling in the pit of your stomach wouldn’t go away. you gripped the plate a little tighter, walking over to her with more force than you intended.

as you got closer, you noticed the girl holding a plushie, a giant, stuffed unicorn. and then it clicked. daniela was the one who’d won it for her.

“you having fun?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, but it came out a little sharper than you meant.

daniela turned around, her face lighting up when she saw you. “yn! look! i won her the unicorn!” she said, holding it up, proud as hell.

the girl beside her giggled. “seriously, she’s amazing at this. i’ve never seen anyone get it on the first try.”

you forced a smile, your eyes narrowing a little. “yeah, looks like she’s really good at it.”

daniela didn’t seem to notice your tone, beaming as she looked from the girl to you. “i know, right? i’ve got mad skills. gotta teach you my ways.”

you nodded, still holding the funnel cake in one hand, but now you were just waiting to get out of there. Was she always this touchy with random girls? you couldn’t stop the thought from running through your head.

“here dani, thought you’d want this before it gets cold.” you said a little harsher than you wanted to.

daniela took the plate, but the smile she gave you felt a little off. as if she was trying to gauge if you were mad or not. and honestly? you were.

“is something wrong..?” she finally let out after examining your tone and facial expressions.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you turned, starting to walk toward the car, your steps maybe a little too quick, a little too angry.

daniela hesitated for a second, glancing back at the girl, “hey, i’ll follow you back later, okay?” she stated, then followed after you.

“bro, slow down!” you heard your girlfriend yell from behind you.

you didn’t slow down, your mind racing, and your jaw clenching at her words. you didn’t want to explain it, didn’t want to seem petty. so instead, you kept walking, arms crossed tightly in front of you.

“come on, don’t walk off like that. what’s going on?” she questioned, slightly jogging so she could be closer to you.

“nothing’s wrong, daniela. just tired,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your voice was tight.

“uh-huh.” her voice was softer now, but you could hear the concern. you didn’t know if you wanted her to chase you down or leave you alone. either way, you were pissed.

when you reached the car, you slammed the door a little harder than you meant to.

the latter slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind her (way softer than you did). she tossed the funnel cake onto the dashboard, its powdered sugar already threatening to spill, and then just stared at you. the silence between you two was thick, and suffocating. waiting for something to break it.

you shifted in your seat, unable to handle the tension. “the fuck are you doing? drive.” you muttered, your gaze fixed on the windshield.

daniela didn’t move, her eyes still locked on you, unfazed. “i’m not driving until you tell me what’s up with you.” she said, her voice low but firm.

you let out a sharp breath, refusing to meet her gaze. “i’m fine.” you muttered, staring out the window.

she raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “you’re fine?” she repeated, her tone flat. “okay, cool. then tell me why the fuck you’re acting like I just killed your dog.”

you stayed quiet, jaw clenched, your eyes still glued to the window. you didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain the frustration building up inside you.

daniela's patience wore thin, and her voice rose slightly. "oh, so now you're just gonna ignore me?" she snapped. "fine. don't say shit, but if you're gonna act like this, you can get out and walk."

you didn't respond, but you could feel the anger starting to boil. you were pissed, but you didn't want to yell. silence felt safer.

"no?" she barked. "then get in the fucking backseat."

daniela heard the scoff as you made your way toward the back, but what she didn’t see was the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. you could already tell where this was headed, and while it wasn’t exactly the healthiest choice right now, it was clear that you both needed to let off some steam.

soon, the blonde joined you in the backseat, her hand tenderly gripping your waist, pulling you onto her lap. her slender fingers found their way to your neck, harshly guiding your lips to meet hers in a searing kiss. the intensity of her anger fueling a primal need. her body pressed against yours, kissing you in a rough manner.

the car fills with the sound of your bodies shifting, fabric rustling, and harsh breaths as you both grapple for control. daniela’s grip on your waist tightens, her fingertips digging into your skin, while your hands tangle in her hair, pulling roughly.

she broke the kiss to speak, "you always do this, you know. you always shut down and refuse to talk.” she punctuated each word by grinding you a little harder against her thigh, the denim of her jeans rubbing against the thin fabric of your safety shorts.

you whimpered at the friction, tangling your hands in her curly hair, while you bucked your hips on her leg, needing more.

as daniela’s words fade into the background, you can't help but focus on the sensation of her leg between yours, the friction sparking a fire within you. you grind against her harder, the heat building between your legs, and you let out a soft moan, your head falling back against the seat.

daniela’s hand leaves your waist, trailing down your thigh, her fingers brushing against your inner leg, teasingly close to where you need her most.

you can feel the heat of her hand, her fingers inching closer to your center, your body aching for more. you lift your hips slightly, silently begging for her to touch you there, to quench the growing flame inside you. your breath hitches as her fingertips finally graze your mound through your shorts, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

daniela’s fingers find the edge of your shorts, her touch dancing along the hem. she leans in, her breath hot on your neck as she whispers, "Is this what you want?" her fingers tease, dipping slightly beneath the fabric, but not enough to satisfy the growing ache. you let out a soft, frustrated sound, arching your hips upwards, trying to encourage her to go further.

your body aches for more, your hips grinding against her leg, seeking friction and release. her fingers continue to tease the edge of your shorts, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, yet never quite giving you the satisfaction you crave.

"you want it, don't you?" her fingers slip further under your shorts, tracing the edge of your panties. you can feel the heat of her hand, fingers inching closer to where you need her most. "tell me," she breathes, her lips brushing against your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "tell me you want it."

your hips move with the rhythm of her hand, pushing against it, seeking more. "yes," you whisper, your voice hoarse with desire, "I want it."

“too bad.” she says, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine as she slowly pulled her hand away, leaving you empty and aching.

your whimper of protest was audible as she withdrew her touch, the loss of her hand making you press harder into her thigh for friction. “now you wanna make noise huh?” Her voice was a husky purr, full of tease.

she watched you with a heated gaze, her eyes flicking down to where you were still pressed against her thigh, seeking relief. she spread her legs slightly, allowing you more room to grind against her. “you're so desperate for it, aren't you?”

you could feel the frustration building up inside you, your moves becoming more urgent against her thigh. “stop being an asshole and fuck me already!' you said desperately, your nails digging into her shoulders.

the latina rolled her eyes in exasperation at your demands, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. “you're so demanding” she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

with a swift movement, daniela lifted you off her lap and maneuvered you into a new position. “hands and knees” she commanded, guiding you into place. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat emanating from her body as she positioned herself behind you.

She hiked up your skirt, pulling your shorts and underwear down, revealing your bare bottom to the cool night air. she ran a hand over the curve of your backside, then, without warning, she delivered a sharp slap to your left cheek.

you yelped at the sudden contact, your body jolting forward. the pain quickly morphed into pleasure as she began to massage the reddened skin. “so sensitive,” she commented, her fingers drifting between your legs to tease your wet folds. “and soaking wet.”

she rubbed the evidence of your arousal against your thigh before aligning herself behind you again. “spread your legs wider” she ordered, her voice low and demanding. you complied, feeling the cool air against your most intimate area.

she pulled down her jeans and moved her fingers to your hips tightly. “you want me to fuck you like this, don't you?' she growled, pressing herself against you. “in the backseat of my car like a common whore.”

you arched your back provocatively, pressing against her boner teasingly. “then fuck me like one,” you challenged breathlessly, casting a sultry glance over your shoulder. “show me how well you can handle the slut in the backseat.”

her breath caught in her throat at your bold words. “such filthy words coming from that pretty mouth..” she retorted, pulling her boxers down. and without warning, she plunged inside you, making you gasp loudly. she bit her lip at the feeling of your cunt around her, starting a steady rhythm, she gripped your hips harder. “you’re not so tough now, are you?”

you moaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the car walls. “shut up and keep fucking me.” you argued back, pushing back against her to meet her thrusts. the force of her movements made the car rock, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

your moans grew louder and more desperate as she continued to pound into you, one hand moving to grip your hair roughly. “oh- fuck— god, dani!—don't stop!'"

daniela's other hand reached around to rub your clit, her fingers pressing hard against the sensitive nub as she fucked you mercilessly. your body shook with the force of her movements, your legs trembling on the seat.

the taller’s face was contorted with pleasure, her jaw clenched as she tried to muffle her own moans. “damn it…you're so fucking tight.” she groaned, her hips jerking forward erratically.

pleasure clouded dani’s mind, and she delivered a hard smack to your ass, the enjoyable pain making you moan and hang your head low.

“s-shit!” she screamed, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back. She pounded into you even harder, her other hand smacking your ass repeatedly.

she hissed in your ear, her breath hot and heavy, “you love it don't you? you always take me so well,” she kisses and sucks on your neck, “just obsessed with this dick, right?” trailing her tongue over a spot on your shoulder, teasing it before sinking her teeth in gently. a giggle escapes her lips as your startled gasp fills the air.

she continued, each thrust accompanied by a filthy phrase, “that’s right, take it—take every inch. you're such a good little slut...” her whimpers sounded like music to your ears. “s-so wet—so tight...does it feel good? does my cock feel good in your cunt?”

you arched your back even more, pressing yourself against her as she filled you completely. “y-yes. dani…” you blubbered, your words slurring with pleasure, 'it—it feels so good n’ d-deep!”

daniela gripped your hair tighter, slamming into you with all her force. “shit…that’s right, baby... take that big dick... show me how much you can handle...” your body trembled uncontrollably, your moans turning into screams of pure ecstasy as your hands clawed the leather seats.

the windows of the car fogged up as the vehicle rocked violently with each thrust. daniela's sweat dripped onto your back as she drove into you relentlessly. “listen to those filthy noises you're making…so pretty..”

your moans grew louder, more urgent, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “fuck! dani i-i'm gonna cum!” you screamed, your body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you.

daniela's thrusts became erratic, her hips jerking forward as she chased her own climax. “holy shit yn, imma put a baby in you, gonna’ fill you up so good...” She groaned, her body shaking as she came hard, her juices flooding your already overflowing hole.

she collapsed on top of you, her breath coming in heavy pants. 'fuck...that was so good.” she murmured, still slowly thrusting through her aftershocks, her hand possessively resting on your stomach.

after a moment, daniela slowly pulled her length out of you, a string of your mixed fluids following. she watched hungrily as your swollen, pink folds slowly closed around the absence of her length.

you flopped back onto the car seat, your legs hanging limply over the edge. your breath came in shallow pants, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “fuck dani…”

daniela chuckled at your exhausted state, “answer me, yeah? you ready to talk about your problem now that i’ve fucked the brains out of you?”

she waited for a response, her eyebrow raised. but you could only manage a weak, breathless whimper. daniela smirked, satisfied with your silence. 'i'll just wait…" she noted, pulling up her underwear and jeans, not bothering to zip them up again.

daniela settled in beside you, casually draping your exhausted legs over her lap. her fingers absently kneaded your tender ass cheeks, relishing the subtle bruises forming there—the physical map of her passionate assault.

she smirked, enjoying the view of your thoroughly ravaged body sprawled out next to her. "looks like my princess is gonna need a few more minutes before she can form words again."

head so good she a honor roll 😋 finally dropped i hope this feels like playboi carti dropping an album 🙏🙏 ngl i forgot reader had a skirt on still so 😅

#starvrse #daniela avanzini #daniela x reader #katseye x reader #katseye smut #daniela smut #g!p daniela #kpop smut #gg smut #x female reader #daniela x female reader #kpop fanfic #katseye

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duvetchico · 27 days ago

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plot twist

summary jimin was supposed to meet up with the members but errr plot twist... it’s just you.

genre exes to (friends??) to lovers / fluff / crack

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

you really weren’t trying to see your ex today. or ever, really.

which made it extra fucking stupid that you were now awkwardly standing outside a café alone, holding an iced americano.

and there she was.

karina. jimin. the ex you swore you’d never see again without at least three drinks in your system and a strong friend gripping your arm saying “do not text her.”

you blinked.

she blinked.

you spoke at the same time.

“wait—”

“you—?”

“what are you doing here?” you both said in perfect sync, eyes wide, expressions slowly shifting from confusion to horror to pure what the actual fuck.

you held up your phone, showing the group chat with the girls where minjeong said “we’re meeting at seoul grind. 3pm. don’t be late 😈”

jimin did the same. “3pm. same place. we’ll all be there 😈”

you both stared at each other.

then your phones.

then each other again.

“…those bitches.”

ten minutes later, you’re sitting across from each other, iced drinks between you, matching expressions of trauma and secondhand embarrassment.

“this is a setup,” jimin mutters, poking at her straw like it’s personally responsible.

“they are so fucking annoying for this,” you say at the same time, deadpan.

you both pause. look at each other again.

and then— like clockwork —burst out laughing.

god. it’s been months. and somehow, she still laughs the same.

“they really said ‘let’s trap our exes in a cafe and see if they kill each other or make out.’” you snort, sipping your drink with a dramatic sigh.

jimin shrugs. “i mean. historically speaking. we’ve done both.”

you choke on your coffee. “jimin—”

“what?” she shrugs again, cocky little smile appearing. “facts are facts.”

you roll your eyes so hard they nearly fall out your head, but your ears are already pink and you can’t even blame the weather.

somehow, against all odds, you’re both… liking it?

like actually liking it.

“remember when you tried to teach me how to ride that electric scooter and i almost died?” you laugh, sipping again.

jimin’s eyes light up. “you fucking deserved it. you refused to wear the helmet.”

“because it was ugly.”

“and you had a death wish!”

you’re both giggling now, your knees bumping under the table, and it feels weird. not in a bad way. just in a we broke up because of dumb timing and pride and maybe it didn’t have to be that way kind of way.

an hour in, she’s leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, watching you talk with this stupid soft look on her face.

“why are you looking at me like that,” you mumble, trying not to fidget under her gaze.

she shrugs. “you still do that thing when you’re trying not to laugh. with your nose.”

“you remembered that?”

“i remember a lot of things.”

boom.. you’re giggling like a twelve-year-old with a crush. again..

you’re both walking back to the train station now, shoulder to shoulder, and she keeps almost brushing your hand but not quite.

“i’m still mad they tricked us like this,” you say.

“yeah,” she replies. “but like… i’m kinda glad they did?”

you glance at her.

“me too.”

she looks nervous. jimin. nervous. like she’s about to do something stupid.

“what if we… like…” she clears her throat. “what if we hung out again sometime?”

“like friends?”

“sure. friends. or. uh. exes with potential.”

you full-body wheeze. “that’s not a thing.”

“it is now,” she grins.

you roll your eyes and shove her shoulder.

“you’re lucky i still kinda like you.”

she’s beaming now. “you like-like me?”

“jimin—”

“say it.”

“no.”

“say it or i’m texting minjeong that we made out behind the café.”

you gasp. “YOU—”

“say it.”

“…fine. i like-like you.”

her face. smug. victorious. glowing.

“you’re such a loser,” you mutter.

she bumps your arm with hers. “but i’m your loser again. kinda.”

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stevieschrodinger · 2 years ago

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Part One of Rock Star Eddie and Baker Steve wrong number AU

Link to Part Two

Eddie's got dubious history with picture messages. Only a very small group of people have his number, considering he's the front man of a multimillion best selling metal band, he doesn't ever want his number to be public knowledge.

So yeah, picture message from and unknown number? Dubious.

Eddie's had enough dick and...vag...pics in his time that he, honestly, doesn't really want another. But when the picture is followed by a message, "were you thinking something like this?"

Well, Eddie's a curious guy. So, committing himself to the idea that this might be new number time, again, he opens the message.

To be confronted with a cake. A really fucking cool cake actually, it's got a car dashing around a muddy track on top with a big '5' in the middle. All of it looks edible, made out of...cake stuff. Eddie has no idea what it is, but it looks delicious.

"One layer chocolate, one layer red velvet? I can do any combination of flavours you want."

Well. Eddie isn't anything but impulsive and he was trying to figure out what the fuck to do for the 'quiet' celebration they were planning for going platinum. Again.

"I think you have the wrong number'" Eddie types, "but I definitely want to order a cake from you."

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, unsolicited cake pics are the worst 😉"

And Eddie can't help it, he laughs, and types back, "if I told you I wanted three tiers of the darkest, spookiest, cherry chocolate what would you come up with?"

It takes a couple of minutes, but Eddie's phone pings twice in quick succession, the first picture is of a spooky orange cake clearly Halloween themed, covered in ghosts and skeletons and stuff. The second is jet black and has a coffin on top that looks like it's leaking green corrosive stuff and Eddie nearly throws his phone in excitement. "That! The second one!"

"🤣 that's an old pic, I was just starting out then, but everything is edible, the green slime is made out of jello"

"Where are you based and can you make it for the 15th? I'll get a courier to collect."

"Sure thing, how many portions? And I need a deposit up front. I'll do chocolate ganache and cherry filling."

"Errr...like, 150? Maybe?"

Eddie sits and watches as the dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, and then there's a pic.

It's a selfie of the most beautiful man he's ever seen. And he's standing in a kitchen, holding a cake pan. Suddenly Eddie's phone is ringing in his hand and he is panicking because beautiful man is calling him. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, it's Steve, the cake guy?". Eddie assumes he makes an affirmative noise because Steve keeps talking, "anyway, that cake pan I'm holding is literally the largest one I own, even if I did three tiers, no way will it cater that many, I'm a small business, you know, it's just me. I can recommend you some companies I know would do a great job."

But then, Eddie will never get to talk to beautiful man ever again, "what if you made like, three cakes?". He asks desperately.

There's a long beat of silence on the phone, "I mean, in theory, I mean, it might cost you more than-"

"I'll pay it. I'll pay double, for, inconvenience, or whatever-"

And oh no, beautiful man has the most beautiful laugh too. Eddie's fucked. He's so fucked.

"I'll raise you, two cakes and fifty muffins?" Steve laughs again, and Eddie laughs right along with him.

Steve grabs his phone when it pings, hoping for Eddie. It is Eddie. It's a selfie from the neck down, like always, Steve still doesn't know what the guy looks like, but Eddie's wearing a deep red shirt that he's clearly just dumped a whole cup of coffee down, "hope your days going better than mine, sweetheart,"

Steve sends back a selfie with a lump of uncooperative modelling fondant in the background, "that depends, can you tell what this is supposed to be?"

Steve's pretty sure it's wierd to talk to a customer every day, but he's started to find he's looking forward to Eddie's messages. Even when they turn flirty. Especially when they turn flirty, maybe.

And maybe it's not exactly professional that Steve's found a lot of reasons to call Eddie. He just, needs to get this right, and if Eddie wants chocolate covered cherries on the cupcakes, well, Steve needs to call him and check, right? Right.

Steve heads out into the lounge with flour on his nose and a mixing bowl under his arm, Dustin, Lucas and Max are sprawled on the couch, El lying on the floor. He can hear Mike and Will fucking around outside. He spoons up some cherry mixture, "hey will you try-"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

Well. Rude. Steve looks to the interview they're watching on the TV. It's some metal band Steve vaguely recognises, and when the lead guy speaks...Steve has to sit down. Because that sounds a lot like-

"So, Eddie," the show host guy starts, and Steve's knees would go weak of he wasn't already sitting down. He's certain his stomach has left the building. "Seeing anyone?"

Eddie laughs, says no, but the band mate next to him makes a show of nudging Eddie and sharing a look.

The host picks up on it immediately, "so there is someone," Eddie's still shaking his head, but he's got a shy smile on his face that makes Steve feel like he's melting. "Come on Eddie, give us something."

"It's not a thing," Eddie flaps his hands, "don't make it a thing."

"Oh it's a thing alright," the audience laugh, "come on, give us something!"

Eddie looks uncomfortable for a second before shrugging, "they, uhm, they make the most amazing cakes you've ever seen."

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #baking #baker steve Harrington #rock star eddie munson #wrong number au #fan fic author #my fic writing #fan fic stuff #fan fiction

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saylorsuniverse · 2 months ago

Text

INFRUNAMI --- nika muhl

summary: your best friend, nika muhl, has been harboring a secret longtime crush on you, but you’re too blind to see that she’s right in front of you to ever give her a chance.

Warnings: pining (?), dead parent (sorry guys), errr slowburn, lots of slowburn, but that’s it… i think

author’s note: CAUSE I WAS BLIND TO SEE THAT YOU WERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. wow i actually kind of fell off towards the end with this one but idrc it’s done with so please just like it 🙂‍↕️

words: 8.6k

—

Your first day of university was a mess — literally.

It began with you waking up half an hour late for a class on the opposite side of campus. Then, you got lost and wandered into the wrong lecture hall, one packed with fourth year computational analysis students who definitely noticed you didn’t belong. After your humiliating, drastically late entrance to your biology lecture, you realized you left your notebook behind in your haste to leave, and your laptop was dead. By noon, your feet ached, your stomach growled, and you were seriously considering dropping out before the week was over to save whatever dignity you had left.

That’s when it happened — someone rounded the corner too quickly and collided into you. A cold shock spread across your chest as the contents of the cup drenched your once white shirt. The bitter scent of coffee now enveloped you, and the fabric now clung to your skin, sticky and stained.

Today was a mess. Literally.

You staggered back, staring down at your white shirt — now a soft coffee brown, clinging cold against your chest.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You snapped, heat rising in your face. “Do you even look where you’re going, or do you just—”

“I—I’m sorry,” the girl stammered, her voice gentle and laced with a distinct accent you couldn’t quite place.

You froze with your next words of harsh language caught in your throat.

She stood there holding the empty cup like it had detonated in her hands. Tall, composed, and unexpectedly apologetic. Her eyes were wide, brows knit together in genuine concern and sincerity.

You were still fuming—soaked, freezing, and humiliated—but suddenly, yelling didn’t seem so urgent. Not at a girl who was clearly a foreigner. Not when she looked at you like that, with wide, puppy-like eyes tinged with shame. Not when her apology actually sounded sincere.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “It’s fine,” you muttered. “It’s not like this day could get any worse anyway. I think I’ve officially checked off every box on the ‘worst first day of college’ list.”

She let out a breath of relief, her shoulders relaxing just enough for you to notice how tense she’d been. “I really didn’t see you,” she said, her accent clearer now—Eastern European, maybe? “I’m an idiot. I wasn’t paying attention.”

You glanced down at your shirt again. Still wet. Still cold. Still embarrassing. But somehow, you weren’t angry anymore. “Join the club,” you said with a small, exhausted laugh. “Late, distracted, mildly ruining people’s lives... I’m president.”

That got a smile out of her—just a small one, but it softened her whole face. Then, without a word, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You caught the UConn women’s basketball team logo on the sleeve.

“Here. I hope this helps,” she said, her voice soft and a little uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure how you’d take the gesture. “And, if it’s not too much, let me buy you a coffee to make up for... this.”

You stood there for a moment, surprised by her sudden kindness. The jacket was warm, thick with the smell of fresh fabric and a faint hint of sweat, the kind you might expect from someone who spent a lot of time in the gym. It was too big on you, but that somehow made it feel like she was offering a shield from the mess of your day.

"I’m Nika," she added quickly, her eyes darting nervously. "Please let me make up to you for this.”

You didn’t know it then, standing in iced coffee and wearing a too big UConn jacket, but that mess of a moment was the beginning of everything.

It started with one coffee—just one, because she insisted. Then it turned into two. The coffees became casual hallway greetings, which slowly morphed into late-night walks after study sessions, shared playlists, “friendly” party dates, and post-game hugs that lingered just a second too long. Somehow, without you even noticing, Nika had become your person.

When your dad passed away suddenly on a random Tuesday at the end of February of your sophomore year, Nika was the one who bought your plane ticket back home – no hesitation, no questions asked.

She showed up at your dorm the night before you left, hoodie half-zipped, her hair still damp from the showers after practice. You barely managed to pack—clothes strewn from your dresser to your suitcase, a pile of shoes collecting at the foot of your bed, your eyes red, puffy, and brimming with tears. She did it for you. Folded your clothes, tucked in a charger, reminded you to bring that sweatshirt your dad always complimented.

And when you finally returned—eyes tired, heart heavier than it had ever been—she was waiting outside baggage claim. Hood up, no makeup, holding your favorite energy drink and a croissant from that little French bakery you’d been insistent she try. And beside all of that, the kind of silence only someone who really knows you can offer.

That night, she slept on the floor beside your bed.

You didn’t ask her to. You never had to. Nika always knew when you needed her—sometimes from just a glance.

She stayed up while you cried yourself dry. She emailed your professors when you couldn’t even open your laptop, even went so far as to ask the headmaster directly if you could get more time off from your midterms.

She let you hold her hand during the funeral, her thumb tracing soft, steady circles into your palm—grounding you when you felt like floating away.

Nika didn’t try to fix anything.

She didn’t push you to talk. She didn’t drag you out for a walk, like she usually would.

She just stayed. And somehow, that was enough.

It was late – well past midnight – and the two of you were curled up on the couch in your childhood living room, the glow of the TV flickering softly while some old sappy rom com movie played on mute.

You were mid-ramble, half-laughing, half-sentimental, recounting story after story about your dad like they were your favorite bedtime tales.

“He swore he was the best fisherman this side of the Atlantic,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “Like, you’d think he was hauling in marlins with his bare hands the way he talked about it.”

Nika smiled, chin propped on her fist, eyes locked on you. “Was he actually any good?”

You snorted. “God, no. The biggest thing he ever caught was, like, a three-kilo bass. And even then, it flopped out of the net before we got a picture. He claimed the fish sabotaged him on purpose.”

Nika chuckled, soft and real, and you couldn’t help but smile wider.

It wasn’t just the sound – it was the way her whole face softened, the crinkle at the corners of her eyes, the small shake of her head like she couldn’t believe you. Her laughter filled the space between you like warm light, like something sacred yet familiar.

She tucked her legs under her on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, and looked at you like there was nowhere else she’d rather be. The lamp behind her glowed gold against the curve of her cheekbone, catching the faintest shimmer in her eyes – like she was trying not to cry or trying not to say something she wasn’t ready to yet.

You noticed, then, how close you were sitting. How your knees almost touched. How easy it felt, like she’d always belonged here – curled up in your childhood living room, laughing at your dad’s fishing stories like she’d live them too.

And maybe, in a way, she had.

“I think he just liked the quiet,” you said after a pause, voice gentler now. “Being out there, the water, the stillness. I didn’t get it back then, but I do now.”

There was a beat of silence. Not awkward – never awkward with Nika. Just quiet enough to let the memory linger, to allow the both of you to bask in it.

Then she nudged your socked foot with hers. “You talk about him like he’s still here.”

“He kind of is.”

Nika didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to, of course. Instead, she just looked at you like she was memorizing the shape of your smile.

And you thought, not for the first time, but he would’ve loved her.

Your dad would’ve seen the way Nika listened to your ramblings the same way he used to, the way her presence was so steady without being overbearing. He would’ve noticed the softness in her eyes, how she made your grief feel a little less sharp. She’d have fit into the rhythms of your family like she’d always belonged there – because, in some way, she had.

For a second, you closed your eyes, imagining it: your dad’s big, warm laugh, echoing through the house as Nika teased him about his fishing skills with that easy, teasing tone she used with everyone.

He would’ve loved her.

For that one fleeting moment, it felt like home wasn’t just this old couch or the smell of your mom’s cookies in the kitchen. It was this – you and Nika, talking about ghosts and bass and everything in between.

The following weeks slipped into a quiet rhythm, one that felt almost like a secret the two of you shared. You and Nika found yourselves slipping into these comfortable silences together more and more. In between late-night talks about everything and nothing, and those moments of laughter when you made fun of each other’s weirdest habits, something deeper was taking root. It wasn’t obvious, not yet—but it was there, nestled beneath the surface, like the steady pulse of something waiting to bloom.

Like the time Nika showed up at your dorm with a bag full of mismatched socks she'd stolen from the laundry room, daring you to try and make an outfit work out of them. Or when you spent an entire Saturday afternoon teaching her how to bake your dad’s infamous chocolate chip cookies, the ones he swore could cure anything. You ended up with flour all over your kitchen and dough stuck to your hair, but it didn’t matter. You were together, laughing over how none of the cookies had turned out even close to edible.

There were more nights like that—quiet ones, where you both stayed up late just talking, sharing stories about your families, about who you were when you were younger, before college and before any of this. You never had to explain why you did the things you did or why certain memories lingered with you longer than others. She understood—just like she always did.

And for someone who never begged for anything – never even dared to ask twice – Nika always begged you to come watch a game. It became the one exception to her “no begging” rule.

You’d always waved her off with a laugh, claiming basketball just wasn’t your thing. You didn’t understand the rules, the fouls, the constant whistle-blowing, or how she managed to stay so calm under so much pressure. But every now and then, she’d drop another hint – “It’s a home game, you won’t even have to walk far!” Or, “We’re playing a big team tonight… would love to see you there because everyone else will be.” It was subtle, and it always came with that soft, almost shy smile of hers – the one you’d started to recognize as her version of hope.

So, one night, you went. No warning, no heads up. You just showed up.

You found a seat near the middle of the bleachers, heart weirdly anxious, wondering if she’d even notice you in the crowd of white, navy blue, and grey. But she did – of course she did.

The moment she stepped out on the court and caught your eye, you saw it – that flash of surprise, that quiet spark of something deeper flickering in her expression before she masked it behind her unusual focus.

For the first time, you got it. Not the game necessarily – you still weren’t entirely sure what a double dribble was or a travel – but the way people moved for each other on that court. The trust. The rhythm. The fire. The way Nika played was sharp, unrelenting, impossible to look away from. That night, you finally understood what mattered to her. And why it might’ve always been more than just the game.

After the game, you tried to slip out quietly, but it was impossible to miss the way people swarmed toward the edge of the court – phones out, jerseys in hand, calling her name like she was some kind of celebrity.

And apparently, she was.

You always knew Nika had a massive Instagram following—you’d seen the numbers, seen the comments flooding in whenever she posted even the most casual selfie. You’d noticed the way people made googly eyes at her in the hallways, how other students suddenly stood a little taller or flipped their hair when she walked past.

But you never really got it. Not until now.

Not until you saw the crowd waiting for her after the game—eager hands holding out phones and posters, people calling her name like they knew her, like she belonged to them in some way.

It was strange seeing her like that. Not because she didn’t deserve it—she did, and then some—but because to you, she’d always just been Nika. The girl who stole mismatched socks from the laundry room just to make you laugh. The girl who memorized your coffee order by heart and always knew when you needed space and when you didn’t. The girl who once burned every single batch of your dad’s cookie recipe and still swore they tasted fine.

And now here she was—this campus icon with sweat-slicked hair and a grin that could start a riot—signing shoes, jerseys, posters… even someone’s forehead, like it was just another Tuesday.

You watched as she smiled patiently through photo after photo, soaking in the spotlight like she was born for it. This wasn’t the lowkey girl who had spilled coffee on you once or cried laughing when flour exploded in your kitchen. This was Nika Mühl, UConn’s Secretary of Defense. Golden girl. Game-changer. And suddenly, you realized: maybe you’d only ever known one version of her.

When she finally broke away from the crowd and jogged toward you, cheeks flushed and hair stuck to her forehead, she looked more alive than you’d ever seen her. You raised an eyebrow.

“So, you’re some big-time basketball hotshot, huh?” you teased, arms crossed. “That was… kind of impressive. I guess.”

She smirked. “Kind of?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I could do all that. With my eyes closed, actually.”

She blinked. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Give me a ball and five minutes and I’ll outscore you easily. Might even dunk on you, Lebron James style.”

That made her laugh – full, loud, and way too amused. “Alright, alright. You talk a lot for someone who looks like she's never touched a basketball in her life. Let alone see a court.”

You nudged her side. “Take me to court then. Prove me wrong.”

And she did prove you wrong.

Somehow, that night ended with the two of you at an empty outdoor court lit only by flickering floodlights and moonlight. The air was cool and quiet, your laughter echoing as she passed you the ball and watched you completely miss the rim – twice.

“Well,” Nika said, trying and failing to hide her grin, “I see we’ve got a future draft pick on our hands.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Okay, rude. That one slipped.”

“That one?” she teased, jogging after the ball as it bounced off into the dark. You’re shooting like the hoop personally offended you.”

“Maybe it did,” you called, breathless with laughter. “Maybe I’m more of a… defensive player.”

“You just airballed a layup.”

“I slipped!”

“Sure,” she said, dribbling lazily back toward you. “Or maybe you’re just intimidated by my greatness.”

You scoffed. “Please. I let you win.”

“You didn’t score once, even when I was just standing there like a statue.”

You stared at her, hand outstretched. “Ball.”

Nika raised an eyebrow, spinning it once on her finger just to be annoying before tossing it your way. “Alright, Steph Curry. Show me what you got.”

You took the ball, squared up, and launched it with every bit of determination you had in you… only for it to hit the backboard with a loud clunk and bounce halfway across the court.

You both froze. Then she cracked up.

You glared at her, trying not to laugh yourself. “I’m warming up.”

“Yeah?” she managed through her giggles. “Need a few more games? A training camp, maybe? A miracle?”

You tried to look offended, but her laughter was contagious. The kind that made your chest ache a little—not from embarrassment, but from something warmer, softer.

When she finally caught her breath, she nudged your shoulder gently. “You’re not good at basketball,” she said, still smiling. “But you’re fun.”

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing, but you masked it with a roll of your eyes. “Thank you. But I am good at basketball.”

Nika raised a brow. “Sure. Prove it.”

You grinned. “Rematch?”

She stepped back, dribbling the ball between her legs, eyes gleaming. “Loser buys post-game coffee tomorrow morning.”

You smirked. “You’re on.”

It was stupid. It was fun. And somewhere between you chasing the ball and her showing you how to dribble without bouncing it off your foot, you realized something had shifted. Not dramatically, not all at once. But it was there—right under the surface, in the way her hand lingered on your waist when she tried to show you the right form, in the way your eyes caught and held a little too long under the buzz of the lights.

And when you finally flopped onto the court floor, breathless and grinning, she lay down beside you and whispered, “Thanks for coming tonight.”

You turned your head toward her, the stars blurred in your peripheral vision. “Thanks for letting me see your world.”

You didn’t talk about that night again. Not because it was strange or uncomfortable, but because it didn’t need words. Some moments just stayed suspended in memory, like a snapshot only the two of you knew how to look at.

But life moved on – like it always does.

The semester picked up speed. Papers piled up. Practice schedules got tighter, especially with March Madness on the horizon for Nika. Your part-time job at the ice cream shop started demanding more of your weekends. Somewhere between closing shifts and early morning labs, you and Nika started spending less time together. Not on purpose. Not in a way that sparked a fight or falling out. Just enough to notice.

Enough to feel it when the silence between texts stretched a little longer, when a missed FaceTime became a pattern. You’d come over to her dorm to find her asleep on the couch, laptop still playing, practice notes spread across her chest like armor. You’d pull the blanket over her head and wish you could pause the world just long enough to sit beside her again like before.

Then, at some point during your junior year, you noticed Nika becoming increasingly more homesick.

It was subtle at first. A sigh when she scrolled through old photos. A soft smile when her sister’s name popped up on her phone. But you knew Nika. You knew the way her energy shifted, the way her voice carried a little differently when her heart was somewhere else. You tried to bridge the distance with the little things. You brought her pastries from the Croatian bakery an hour away, even if they were never quite right to her. You learned how to say “good morning” in her language. You watched YouTube videos of her hometown, just so you’d have something to talk about when she brought it up. But it never felt like enough.

Then, you picked up extra shifts at the local ice cream shop to cover rent and textbooks and whatever else college kept throwing at you. You were always exhausted, sticky with sugar syrup and smelling like waffle cones. Texts went unanswered. Calls missed. Plans postponed.

Nika noticed.

She never said it outright, but it was there—in the shorter replies, the fading smiles, the way her voice sounded just a little tighter when she’d say, “You’re working again?”

You hated that look on her face—the quiet disappointment. The way it made your stomach knot and your chest ache. But what could you do? You were trying your best. That had to count for something.

And then it was her birthday.

You remembered last year—how she’d dragged you to the beach even though it was freezing, wrapped you both in a single towel, and made you promise to always spend her birthday together, no matter what.

This year, she barely looked at you when you showed up at her dorm.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” she said, not looking up from her phone.

You bit back a sigh. “I know I’ve been distant, but just… come with me.”

She rolled her eyes and stood anyway. “If this is a sad attempt to make up for ignoring me, I swear—”

And then she stepped into the apartment lobby. And froze.

Her mom stood there with her arms wide open, her dad fumbling with a bouquet of tulips, and her little sister waving with both hands, wearing a “Happy Birthday, Nika!!” t-shirt that was definitely your idea.

She turned to you, wide-eyed and speechless for the first time in maybe ever. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You flew them in?”

You nodded. “Used every paycheck. And some student loan money I probably shouldn’t have touched.”

She didn’t say anything at first—just stepped forward into her dad’s arms, burying her face into his shoulder as he hugged her so tightly it looked like he might never let go. Her mom was crying. Her sister was laughing, tugging at the hem of Nika’s sweatshirt.

You stood off to the side, suddenly overwhelmed by how much you missed a hug like that.

Your chest tightened as you watched them sway together, soft words exchanged in Croatian, her dad smoothing her hair back like she was still his little girl. Something about it gutted you. You couldn’t help but think of your dad. How his hugs were always too tight, how he always smelled like sunscreen and coffee, how he’d tease you for crying during animated movies—and how you’d give anything just to feel that once more.

You didn’t realize your eyes were glassy until Nika’s dad turned to you.

“Thank you,” he said, accent thick but warm. “For taking care of our Nika.”

Your throat closed. You managed a smile, but it was shaky.

Because you hadn’t been taking care of Nika.

If anything, she had taken care of you—when you were falling apart, when you couldn’t speak, when the world felt too loud or too quiet. When grief lived in your chest like a second heartbeat. She was the one who knew how to anchor you, to bring you back. She was the one who stayed.

“I try,” you whispered. “But I think she does a better job at that than me.”

He smiled again, like he understood something you hadn’t said out loud.

Later that night, when the cake had been cut and the apartment had quieted into soft music and the scent of leftover frosting, you slipped out onto the balcony for a moment alone.

You didn’t hear her come out—just felt her shoulder bump into yours as she slid into the chair beside you.

“Hey,” she said, quietly.

“Hey.”

She looked out over the city lights, then back at you. “You really flew them in.”

You nodded. “Had to bribe your sister with candy and airport snacks.”

Nika smiled, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

A beat passed.

“You’re still the best part of my birthday,” she added, softer now.

You turned toward her, and in the half-dark, you saw the sincerity in her eyes. The way they crinkled when she smiled, the way she looked at you like you mattered. Like she’d been waiting to say that all night.

Your heart swelled in your chest—warm and heavy and full.

“Don’t forget that when I inevitably ignore you again because I picked up another closing shift,” you said, grinning.

“Oh, I will absolutely hold this over your head forever,” she teased. “You’ll never know peace.”

You laughed, and so did she—and in that moment, everything felt right again.

That night on the balcony stuck with you.

Maybe because it felt like a turning point—like all the tension from the past few months had cracked open and been replaced by something softer, steadier. You started carving out more time. Showing up again. Not just with grand gestures, but in the small ways that mattered most.

And she met you there—like always.

You went back to movie nights and late-night drives and leaving each other notes in textbooks you forgot to return. You showed up to more games, even started learning what a pick-and-roll was (kind of). Nika still teased you for cheering five seconds too late, but she never stopped looking for you in the stands.

Time moved differently after that.

Suddenly, you were both seniors. Somehow, inexplicably, the final year. Yet, at the same time, your lives had become so interwoven, it was hard to remember what things were like before she spilled coffee on you that first day. And now? Now, she has a drawer in your apartment. A toothbrush in your bathroom. A mug she claimed as hers every time she used it for coffee. She wasn’t just a part of your life – she’d quietly, seamlessly folded into it. Still, something had shifted.

It was in the way she watched you sometimes when you weren’t looking. In the way her hand lingered too long on your back during hugs. In the way she'd start to say something, then stop herself with a breathy, "Never mind."

One night, after her game, you found her alone in the locker room, lacing and unlacing her sneakers with a faraway look on her face.

“You good?” you asked, settling beside her.

She nodded, too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But then she added, “Have you ever thought about how different things might be next year?”

You blinked. “Like after graduation?”

“Yeah. Like… you in a different city. Me playing overseas maybe. Us, not…” She hesitated, her eyes flicking to yours. “Not like this.”

You smiled softly. “I try not to think that far ahead.”

“Me neither,” she said. But it came out like a lie.

There was a pause. Then she nudged your knee with hers, and it was like exhaling after holding your breath.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “Wherever we end up, you’re stuck with me.”

She laughed, but there was something glassy in her eyes. “I better be.”

Soon, classes were harder. Futures felt closer. The air around campus buzzed with goodbyes that hadn't even been said yet. Everyone kept talking about what's next, where they'll go, what they'll become. You tried not to think about the ticking clock—but it was always there, echoing under everything.

Basketball got more serious, too.

Nika was in it—deeper than ever. Her practices went longer, her sleep got shorter, and every conversation seemed to circle back to film study or recovery or the pressure of making it count. She wasn’t just UConn’s “secretary of defense” anymore. She was a senior. A two-time Big East defensive player of the year. A legacy in motion.

And you were watching it happen from the front row when March Madness rolled around that final year—cheering the loudest, holding your breath when she hit the court, catching her eye just before every tipoff. Sometimes, she'd smirk. A little secret passed between you like always.

But even then, something in the air started to shift.

Not in a bad way. Not yet.

Just... deeper. Closer. More.

Like the edges of your friendship had started to blur into something else. Something unspoken, stretched taut between quiet glances, tired hugs, and the way she never quite let go of your hand during long walks back to your apartment.

You didn’t know what it meant yet.

And then came the Final Four.

The loss hit her harder than you expected. You had seen her take on challenges before—seen her shake off pain, both physical and emotional. But this was different. There was no bouncing back from this. Not right away, at least.

The silence in the apartment felt heavy, thicker than usual. The game had ended hours ago, but Nika hadn’t said much since. You could feel the weight of it in the air between you. You knew she was trying to hold it together, but you could tell—deep down, it was more than just a loss on the court. It was a dream that had slipped through her fingers.

You hadn’t said anything either, not at first. You just let the quiet linger, trying to give her the space she needed to process, even though you felt like you could barely breathe through the thick tension.

Nika was sitting at the edge of the couch, knees drawn to her chest, looking out the window. The city lights blurred in her reflection, her face pale and tired, a faint sheen of sweat still on her skin from the game. Her UConn jersey—usually so vibrant—looked like it had aged ten years in one night.

"Hey," you said, breaking the silence, your voice softer than usual.

She didn’t turn to look at you. "I should’ve played better," she murmured, her words low, like they were scraping out from the back of her throat. "We should’ve won. We could’ve…"

You moved to sit beside her, close but not too close. She didn’t push you away, but she didn’t invite you in either. You just sat there for a moment, letting the hum of the city fill the gap.

"Hey," you said again, this time touching her arm gently. "You were incredible. All of you were. One game doesn’t change that."

Her eyes flicked toward you, but she still didn’t speak. Her gaze was distant, unfocused. She looked... defeated, in a way that made your heart ache.

"Can we just... sit for a while?" she asked, her voice quieter this time, like it had lost some of its usual fire.

You nodded, settling down beside her, not saying a word as the minutes passed. The moonlight drifted through the window, casting a soft glow on her face. You couldn’t help but stare at her, the way her profile looked so fragile in that moment—like she wasn’t the powerhouse athlete you saw every game, but just a girl who had poured her heart into something, and it wasn’t enough.

"I should’ve been able to do more," she finally whispered, more to herself than to you.

"Nika," you started, your voice steady but filled with the weight of everything unsaid. "You’ve already done more than enough. For this team. For yourself. For me."

She shook her head slightly, the faintest hint of frustration creeping into her features. "It’s not just about the team. It’s… I let everyone down."

"No," you said firmly, reaching over to take her hand. "You didn’t let anyone down. You gave everything. And that’s enough."

Her fingers curled around yours, but she didn’t pull you closer. She just stayed there, quiet, letting the moments pass. You could feel the faint tremble in her hand, and your chest tightened.

After a while, she sighed deeply, leaning back against the couch. "I just wanted to give them a championship. I wanted it so badly."

You didn’t have the right words to fix it—hell, you weren’t even sure if there were any words that could make it better. But you squeezed her hand, offering the only thing you could: your presence.

"Whatever you need," you whispered. "I’m here."

She nodded slowly, her eyes closing for a moment, and for the first time that night, she leaned into you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close, and she didn’t pull away. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore—it was about being there for each other.

And in that moment, you realized you’d always been there for each other. Through all the highs, all the lows, all the unsaid things.

The days after the Final Four were heavy.

Nika didn’t bounce back the way she usually did. The loss lingered like a bruise—tender, invisible, always there. You watched her move through campus like a ghost in sneakers, smiling for cameras, thanking fans, doing everything that was expected of her. But you knew better. You saw the silence in her eyes when the noise faded. The way she lingered in the gym even longer now, pushing her body past the point of exhaustion, like if she could just work hard enough, maybe the ache would go away.

People started asking questions almost immediately. Was she coming back? Using her fifth year? Making one last run at the title? And for a while, even she didn’t have the answer.

You caught her staring out your window one night, knees pulled up to her chest, hoodie drawn tight over her head. The city lights cast her in silver, and you didn’t have to ask what was on her mind.

“I always thought we’d win it all,” she said quietly, almost like she was talking to herself. “That it would all feel... worth it.”

“It was worth it,” you said.

But she just shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if I gave too much. And now—if I don’t stay—what does that make me?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not one she’d believe, anyway.

Because the truth was, she was already being pulled in a hundred different directions. Agents. Media. Draft boards. Seattle, Indiana, Chicago—everyone had her name on their radar. You knew the WNBA had been a dream since she was a kid, but dreams came with pressure. With decisions. With the terrifying possibility that the next step might be the wrong one.

When she finally announced her decision—foregoing her final year of eligibility and entering the WNBA Draft—it wasn’t flashy. Just a post. A black-and-white photo and a caption that read:

"Grateful for everything. Ready for what’s next." —Nika Mühl

You texted her three seconds after it went live: “You okay?” And she replied: “No. But I will be.”

And then came draft night.

Her name was called in the second round by the Seattle Storm, and the room erupted.

You’d never seen her look more stunned—eyes wide, mouth slightly open like reality hadn’t quite caught up to her yet. People crowded around her, hugging, crying, cheering. She held the Storm jersey in her hands like it might disappear if she blinked.

When her eyes finally found you across the room, it was like a breath released. She mouthed, “Come here,” and you didn’t hesitate.

The afterparty was loud, glittering with celebration. There was music, drinks, speeches, photos—so many photos. Nika floated from group to group, gracious and radiant, but you could tell the weight hadn’t lifted. Not really.

You found her alone near the balcony later, a glass of champagne untouched in her hand.

“You should be inside,” you said. “People are looking for you.”

“I know.” She exhaled slowly, staring out at the city skyline. “I just... needed a minute.”

You stood beside her in the silence, letting the cool night air settle over your shoulders. She finally glanced your way.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” she asked, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you looked at her—really looked. At the proud line of her shoulders, the flicker of fear she was trying to hide, the way her fingers tightened slightly around the glass like she needed something to anchor her.

“I think,” you said carefully, “you’ve spent four years giving every piece of yourself to something you love. And now you’re just choosing to keep loving it—on your terms.”

Her eyes shimmered with something between gratitude and exhaustion.

“You’re gonna be great in Seattle,” you added. “But if you ever want to come back and lose to a real basketball player, I’ll still be here.”

That earned you a real laugh. Soft. Tired. Genuine.

Nika didn’t say anything at first. Her gaze flicked down to the glass in her hand, then up toward the crowded room behind you—music, laughter, cameras flashing. All of it too loud for something this delicate.

“I should offer my congratulations to the other players,” she murmured, already stepping back.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Of course.”

She hesitated—like maybe she wanted to stay. Like there was still something to say. But the moment passed, and then she was gone, weaving back into the celebration with a practiced kind of ease.

You leaned against the railing, trying not to overthink the thud in your chest.

“Hey.” Paige’s voice cut in, low and casual, as she joined you on the balcony, drink in hand.

You didn’t turn at first. Just nodded. “Hey.”

“She’s gonna do great,” Paige said, nudging her shoulder against yours.

“I know,” you answered quietly. “I just... it’s all happening so fast. She’ll be in a new environment. New team. New people. I don’t know.” You paused, feeling the heat of something you didn’t want to name rise in your throat. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Paige said, amused. “It’s textbook.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Textbook?”

She smirked. “Yeah. Classic pining.”

You blinked. “I’m not—”

“Relax,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m not judging. Just saying... she’s not going to date anyone in Seattle, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You blinked again, slower this time. “I wasn’t worried about—”

Paige tilted her head knowingly. “She’s been celibate for you for practically the entire time we’ve been at UConn.”

You nearly choked on air. “What?!”

“She didn’t say it like that,” Paige added with a chuckle. “But I mean... come on. We’ve all seen it. It’s always been you.”

You stared at her, heartbeat ticking up, unsure what to do with that kind of information. The kind that makes your stomach flip and your thoughts spiral.

Paige looked at you, face softening just a little. “She’s not leaving you behind. She just hasn’t figured out how to say she wants you to come with her.”

And with that, she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and walked back inside, leaving you alone with the quiet and a thousand words still stuck in your throat.

You didn’t go back inside. Not yet.

The air outside was cool, but your skin was hot—flushed with the weight of everything that had just been handed to you in one offhand comment from Paige Bueckers. A joke, technically. Just a nudge.

But it cracked something wide open.

She’s been celibate for you practically the entire time we’ve been at UConn.

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, like maybe if you stayed still long enough, the truth would settle. But it didn’t. It rose. Tangled and relentless and aching.

Because the truth wasn’t sudden.

It had been there—quiet and steady, hiding in plain sight. In the softness of Nika’s voice when she said your name. In how she always remembered the small things, like which brand of tea you liked when you were sick or how your dad used to hum classic rock in the kitchen.

You’d built a thousand memories together. Shared holidays and heartbreaks and stupid little Tuesday mornings. You’d joked, clung to each other, fought like sisters and loved like—what?

Friends?

You’d called it that. For years, you’d called it friendship. But now you were wondering if that word had been too small all along.

It wasn’t just Paige’s words.

It was the look on Nika’s face before she walked away—like something inside her had given up on being quiet. Like she wanted to say something but didn’t. Like she’d already said everything in the way she loved you, and she was done waiting for you to notice.

And god, you hated yourself at that moment. Because you had noticed. Just not clearly. Not fully.

You were so wrapped up in the rhythm of it—the shared routines, the laughs, the way she always showed up when no one else did—that you hadn’t stopped to question why it felt so permanent. Why it felt like you couldn’t imagine anything mattering more than her.

You’d been blind.

Not in a dramatic way. Just in the everyday kind. The way someone gets used to the sun rising and forgets it’s a miracle every morning. The way something constant can feel invisible until the moment it’s slipping away.

You hadn’t seen her. Not really. Not for what she was trying to be to you—not just the best friend, not just the late-night baking partner or sideline smile before tipoff. She’d been offering her heart in all the ways she knew how. And you’d held it, oblivious, like it was just something friends did.

It hit you all at once: you’d been in love with her for years.

Not in fireworks. Not in sweeping moments or grand gestures.

But in the way your day never started right until you heard her voice. In the way her hoodie was still the one you reached for when everything felt too heavy. In the way every version of your future had her laugh somewhere in it.

And now she was leaving for Seattle. A new team. A new world. Without you.

Your stomach twisted. You weren’t scared of her success—you were so proud of her it hurt—but the thought of her smiling like that at someone else, of some other girl knowing the feel of her arms in a crowd or the way she whispered dumb jokes under her breath when she was nervous. That thought gutted you. Because that had been yours. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted it to always be yours.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, like they were holding back a truth you weren’t ready to say out loud.

But maybe it was time.

Time to stop calling it something safe. Time to be brave the way she’d always been for you. Because Nika Mühl had loved you in all the quietest ways. And maybe it was time to finally say it back.

You found her near the bar, cheeks flushed, drink in hand, spinning a half-empty glass between her fingers. The party had swelled—music pulsing, laughter rising in waves—but she stood still in the middle of it, like a pause in the chaos. Her eyes lit up when she saw you.

“There you are,” she said, voice a little slurred, a little softer than usual. “I was looking.”

You offered her a steadying arm, and she leaned into it without hesitation.

“Think you’ve had enough,” you said, managing a smile.

“Think I’ve earned it,” she mumbled, but let you guide her toward the door.

The cab ride was quiet—just the low hum of the engine and Nika’s head resting on your shoulder. You kept staring out the window, hoping the blur of streetlights could silence the noise in your chest. But it didn’t. Not even close.

Your apartment was dark when you unlocked the door, familiar in its stillness. You helped her out of her heels and guided her to the couch, where she dropped down with a groan.

“You’re so serious,” she muttered suddenly, peering up at you. “Why are you being so… serious?”

You froze. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head. “You’ve got that faraway look again. Like you’re here, but not really.”

You tried to brush it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she said, too quick. “You always do this. You disappear inside your head and pretend you’re fine.”

“Nika…”

She sat up straighter, brows furrowed despite the haze in her eyes. “Is it Seattle? Are you scared I’ll leave and forget you or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly. “God, no. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

She looked at you then—really looked at you. The kind of look she only gave when she was reading between the lines. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, like she was steadying herself against whatever was coming.

“Then what is it?” she asked, softer now. “Because it feels like there’s something you’re not saying. And I don’t want to leave with you keeping whatever this is bottled up.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Because how do you say, “I’ve been in love with you for years and I didn’t even realize it until someone else said it out loud?”

How do you confess to mistaking a burning house for a warm fireplace?

Your hands clenched at your sides. “I talked to Paige tonight.”

Nika blinked. “Okay?”

“She said something. About you. About… us.” You couldn’t meet her eyes, not yet. “She said you’ve been… waiting. That you haven’t been with anyone because—because of me.”

Silence stretched between you.

And then, quietly, “She talks too much.” You looked up. Nika wasn’t angry. Just… exposed. Her smile faltered. “I didn’t want you to find out like that.”

Your heart thundered. “Is it true?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood, wobbled slightly, and steadied herself on the armrest. “Why do you think I’ve been around this long, huh?” she said with a tired laugh. “You think I show up for everyone when they’re sick with their favorite soup and stupid flowers from the farmer’s market?”

You stared. “You brought me dahlias because I said once—”

“That your dad used to get them for your mom when she had bad days,” she finished. “I remember. I remember everything about you.”

You felt like your ribs were too tight for your lungs. “I thought it was just… you being you,” you whispered.

“It was me being me,” she said. “But only with you.” And that broke something.

“I didn’t know,” you breathed. “I was so close to it, I couldn’t see. I was blind to everything because you’ve always been right in front of me and I never let myself think it could be more. Not really.”

Her eyes softened. “And now?”

“Now I can’t stop thinking about it,” you said, voice cracking. “About you. About all of it. I keep going back to every moment—every time you stayed, every time you held me, every time I should’ve said something. I think I’ve loved you this whole time and I just… I didn’t know what to call it.”

Nika moved closer, like the space between you was unbearable. “You don’t have to call it anything. Just tell me it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you whispered. “God, it’s real.”

And then she kissed you—gently, as if testing whether the world would collapse or settle into place. It settled.

You didn’t pull away. Neither did she.

The kiss wasn’t urgent—it didn’t need to be. It wasn’t about making up for lost time. It was about everything that had always been there, finally surfacing. Gentle. Certain. Familiar in the most unfamiliar way.

Her forehead touched yours as your breaths mingled, the room too quiet and too loud all at once.

Nika smiled first—barely, just the smallest curve of her lips—and whispered, “Took us long enough.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes still closed. “Yeah.” And then it was quiet again.

Not the kind of quiet that asks for conversation. The kind that only happens when there’s nothing left to prove. Just two people, sitting in the soft, golden aftermath of something that’s been waiting to happen for a long, long time.

Nika leaned her head on your shoulder. Her hand found yours, fingers interlacing like they’d done it a thousand times—only now it felt new. Earned.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” she said after a while, voice low. “I know we’re moving into new chapters and states and time zones and all of it, but I don’t want to wonder ‘what if’ anymore.”

You squeezed her hand. “Me neither.”

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight. Outside, the city buzzed in celebration and motion—but in that quiet apartment, time bent. Softened. Paused.

You tilted your head toward her and whispered, “Stay here tonight.”

She was already pulling the blanket off the back of the couch. “Wasn’t planning on leaving.”And so you stayed. Not just in the room, or in the moment, but in it—this new, fragile beginning. A truth long buried, finally unearthed. You didn’t talk about what tomorrow meant. You didn’t need to. Not yet. Because for the first time in years, the silence between you didn’t hold distance. It held everything.

You awoke the next morning on your couch with no Nika next to you.

The throw blanket had slipped halfway to the floor. A dull ache in your curled neck from the angle you'd fallen asleep in, but none of that compared to the flicker of panic that sparked in your chest when your hand reached out and met only empty cushion.

Then, soft clicking, the low hum of something brewing, a faint curse in Croatian coming from the kitchen.

You moved on instinct, rounding the corner too fast — too fast for Nika to react.

"Shit—!" she yelped as one of the two mugs she was holding tilted too far, coffee sloshing over the side. Her socks slipped a little on the wooden floor, and for a second, it felt like time bent in on itself.

You froze in the doorway. She did, too.

And suddenly, you were nineteen again. First week of freshman year. A too-fast turn, a cup of coffee spilled across your shirt, and a girl with an accent and a laugh that made your whole world sound softer.

"You scared the hell out of me," Nika said, still clutching the cups like they were fragile cargo. She was wearing your old hoodie, the one that had your high school logo fading across the chest. Her hair was a little messy, eyes still sleepy. She looked like morning, yet still grinning through the mess. "Déjà vu?"

You laughed, stepping forward to grab a rag off the counter. "You just have a thing for spilling coffee on me, huh?"

She passed you a mug — less full now, but still warm — and for a second, you just stood there, facing her across the same floor where your friendship had once started as a simple accident.

Except now it wasn't just friendship.

Now, it was all the in-betweens. The almosts. The years of laughter and late-night talks and cookies and confessionsl All the things you never had the words for, finally spoken.

Nika glanced down at her once white socks now soaked in coffee, then back at you, something awe like flickering in her eyes. "I think I loved you even then."

You swallowed. The coffee burned your throat in the best way, but not in the way that you planted a kiss on Nika's lips. "I think I was too blind to see it — literally."

She smiled at that, soft and knowing, both taking sips as you leaned against the counter beside her and let the quiet settle in.

And there, in the messy kitchen with the morning sun bleeding through the windows, you felt it.

Not a confession. Not a climax. Just a continuation of everything that had always been right in front of you.

#uconn wbb #uconn huskies #sports #nika muhl #wlw #paige bueckers #nika mühl #seattle storm #wnba basketball #fluff #wnba x reader #nika x reader #nika muhl smut #paige bueckers uconn

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barcapix · 6 days ago

Note

can you make an imagine about cubarsi and the reader where they had a daughter but they were co parenting but in the end they got back together

i don’t know if it make sense or not you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to

✮ It Takes Two (Maybe Three) - Pau Cubarsí

pau cubarsi x fem!reader

sy: it’s been a tough journey. really tough. it’s heavy and echoing as your daughter persists to bring you closer together. would a drawing put her plan in motion?

a/n: no of course !! i love seeing requests like this thank u:) no mention of why they broke up, just imagination for that lmao.

warnings: errr maybe plot holes honestly..

nobody prepares you for the silence.

for the silence after your daughter asks why her parents don’t sleep in the same bed, don’t live in the same house, nor eat at the same table.

that’s because, you don’t know what to say. you never do, she’s too inquisitive for her age.

even that, not only was it stretching out the silence for you, but for her too. it was obvious she was finding it difficult, so, she’d subtly been trying to bring you back together.

whether it was delaying on getting her shoes to sleepover’s at his, just so you had moments to talk. whether it was after-school runs, where she had asked you both to pick her up so you’d bump into each other.

she was highly unsuccessful, until tonight.

“mamá!” jazmín exclaims, bursting through the door rather enthusiastically; you heave her into your arms with the same emotion.

“i’ve missed you, mi cielo,” you kiss her cheek. “how was school today?”

“it was good, i know the alphabet by heart now!” she squeals, as you gently lower her down onto the floor.

pau walks through the door, her glittery purple backpack strung over his shoulder and her water bottle in his grasp. he just kinda stands in the doorway, neither shutting the door or leaving.

you’re the first thing he looks at since he enters, glaring like he’s waiting for permission. to step in, to say something, to not be a stranger in a place he once called home. you look back, unsure if you want to offer it.

“papà,” jazmín says suddenly, “can you show mamà what i drew today?”

pau hesitates for a second, his foot goes to step forward but his body holds him back. “oh—yeah, it’s in here somewhere.” he allows himself in, dropping the bag onto the couch and begins rummaging through it.

keenly, you watch him as he pulls out an overly crumpled sheet of paper, which he smoothens out via his palm.

“she made it during art class,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes, passing it over.

you take it. its undeniably full of colour, a drawing—a stick figure, of course—but its clear enough to see.

you drop to the couch upon touch, your eyes wide as a searing pang of guilt strikes sharp through your chest.

there’s three figures, one smaller than the others with a messy braid and big smile, two taller ones to the smaller one’s left. you. him. theres also small pink hearts dotted around all three of you, but most noticeably, the, what you could assume were hands but more so looked like carrot sticks, were holding onto eachother.

you glance across at him, unsure of what to say. like the words on your tongue couldn’t quite formate. he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, looking way too bashful for someone you once lived with.

you once loved.

jazmín had to quickstart it. she’s makes her way to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers for some snacks.

“what did i say about it papà? i forgot,” she mumbles, mouth half-full and innocently, bits of cracker crumbs falling from her mouth.

he murmurs, wiping his palms clean onto his shorts. “that—uh, she’s really proud of it.”

pau won’t look at you dead in the eyes, but instead pretends his attention is needed elsewhere. like the pictures of only you and your daughter on the wall.

jazmín, completely unfazed by the evident tension teeming in the room, climbs onto the couch and plops herself right between you two.

“i think you guys should talk now,” she suggests, swinging her legs like this is just another monday.

you blink. “about what, bug?”

“about getting back together,” she smiles bluntly. her eyes are shining with mischief as she flickers between you both. “you love eachother. duh.”

pau laughs under his breath; you do too, mostly out of what-is-happening-right-now disbelief. though if you expected it to spill from anyone’s mouth, you’d guess your daughter.

“can you leave j?”

“hm?” she fakes not being able to hear you although her devilish smile makes a return.

“can you leave us alone for a moment?” her father speaks this time. “it won’t be for long princesa.”

she huffs, dramatic as ever, but slides off the couch anyway—pretending that you can’t notice the smirk tugging at her lips. “fine. but don’t take too long. i wanna finish my cheezits.”

the second she’s out of the room, though still very much within earshot, probably behind the wall pretending she’s invisible—the silence creeps in again. but it’s not the sharp, hollow kind you’ve gotten used to in moments like this.

its softer, almost fragile.

“i didn’t know she was gonna draw that,” pau admits, voice like a whisper that he didn’t want to say first.

“she’s always drawing,” you murmur, eyes still lingering on the paper. “but never like this.”

briefly, you take a glance behind you where your open kitchen stands. the fridge is in direct eyeline, and her other drawings she’s taken home sway as the wind from the open window hits them.

there’s other ones with puppies, pony’s and even ones where she portrays herself as belle with a lemon-colour dress.

pau follows your gaze, his eyes softening. after a while, he nods. “she’s been saying little things about our family. i didn’t think she actually noticed.”

“like what?”

“like how all of her other friends complain about how their parents kiss infront of them,” he rubs at his forehead. “or like how she wishes she could experience a family trip to the park.”

you trace a finger over the edge of the drawing, your jaw tightening as you nod slowly.

“well, she asked me last week if we’d both be there for her painting competition,” you add, tone dismaying. “i said we’ll try.”

you meant it, too. but now you wonder if trying is just a softer word for avoiding. if you’ve both been tiptoeing around what actually needs to be said.

to be diffused.

cubarsi leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, fingers loosely laced. “i know this probably isn’t the time,” he starts, then pauses, rewords. “but it doesn’t always have to be like this anymore. us.. y’know, being so distant.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean,” he inhales, exhales through his nose. “there’s no harm in rebuilding our relationship.”

you hesitate. because the easy thing would be to agree. the hard thing is admitting you want it too. not just for her. not just for how she drew you both. but because despite everything that fractured, you still find comfort in his voice when he calls her ‘princess’.

his eyes widen, detecting the hint of uncertainty. “—like, only if you wanted to. i would never pressure you or—”

you take a deep breath, tentatively brushing your hand next to his. “i do. i do want to.”

now, he feels like he has permission. daintily, he shuffles along the chair, the wide gap between no-more, sealing his fingers in your palm.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and from somewhere a wall away, you both grin when you hear, “yipppeeee!”

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb @madamsoulette @mariejuli (lmk if you wanna be added or removed ◡̈)

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halfwayhearted · 2 months ago

Text

As We Bloom — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Where he’s spotted attending one of your matches, and aside from the panic, you feel a wave of… contentment.

Word Count: 1.5K+

Disclaimer/s — Trying to do more blurbs like this… errr. So! Reader is a player for Barca Femeni and 18! Uhhhh, god wow this feels all over the place. I struggled badly if u couldn’t tell

A/N: HI. Another request by @redbulldoesntgiveyouwings ofc! Reading, ‘She’s trying hard to prove herself as a striker, but the wingers aren’t giving her much help. The Barca men notice she’s struggling. Might have a thing with Pau or another younger player. Then, she sees the whole Barca team at one of her matches (Supercopa 2025, VISCA BARCA), and she’s about to cry from all the emotions.’ So! I summarized it, and some might not align with what you said and for that, I’m sorry… but! We came up with a few ideas :3 may you enjoy!

Your first thought was, ‘He’s watching me today?’

And then it was, ‘Oh, my God. Pau’s watching me today.’ For the first time since the two of you made things official, he’s here. You were quick to stiffen, running a rough hand over your face. Get back into the game—you can worry about it later.

You have enough to worry about already, trying your utmost to create chances for your teammates, to no avail—not that you minded. It was an incredibly tough match, but you’d hope.

The two of you had thought it best to keep things private. Private was good, or at least that’s what you thought. As your teammate passed you the ball, you went on autopilot, the simple yet important action snapping you back into reality. He’s here—whoop-de-doo! Come back, will you?

Maneuvering across the pitch with ease, you realized you’d be surrounded if you didn’t pass, so you did just that. You ran farther down and were met with it once again, your gaze trained on the object and the object alone. You were closer…

Closer, and closer. The box was right there.

Acting as if you were about to pass it on, you kept your gaze on Aitana, striking at the last second, your eyes flickering to the net while you watched.

It’s deflected by the opposing player, sending the keeper off-guard, missing by literally just an inch.

Your eyes widen at that, a big, bright grin gracing your lips as you’re quickly surrounded by your teammates, all plastered with matching smiles.

You just fucking scored.

The expression stays on your face even after the final whistle is blown. Why? Because you guys are Supercopa Champions. You guys are champions.

Six to zero sounded crazy.

You contributed.

Upon receiving your medal shortly after, you try to find Pau once again, only to realize it wasn’t just him who came, but Lamine, Héctor—even Balde. It was sickening to you, and your eyes welled up with unshed tears as you made your way to stand beside your team. You watched as Alexia gently took the trophy into her hands and made her way toward you all, bouncing with pure excitement.

Finally, she lifts it up into the air.

This team was your everything, and this moment just solidified that. Cursed chances be damned.

That’s how it was for the next fifteen-ish minutes until things started to wind down. Your smile threatened to widen when you lifted your head once again for what seemed like the tenth time.

He was still here. Not once had he left, not that you expected him to, but you know. It meant a lot.

Pau’s eyes met yours, and he tilted his head, as if asking, ‘Meet you after?’ Uh, duh. You nodded.

As you rushed toward the locker rooms, the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention, sending a thrill of recognition through you. You knew exactly who it was. Whirling around, you discovered your assumptions were spot on. Not only was it him standing there, but the rest trailing behind.

All you truly wanted in this moment was to be in his arms, as corny as that may sound. You need it.

Wasting no time, the excitement that had been coursing through your veins propelled you to jog toward him, your body crashing into his. You heard the sound of his laughter in your ear, making you nestle your face deeper into his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were here, you idiot.”

“I had to,” Pau murmured softly against your neck before pulling back. “That was an insane goal.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but his words were enough to make you endure the pain for just a little while longer. Then, the sound of someone clearing their throat made you wince.

Right… pulling away completely (fighting the urge to squirm under Pau’s lingering hand on the small of your back), you tilt your head. “Thank you guys so much for coming, seriously. It means a lot.”

Lamine winks. “Anything to see the team win.”

“Anything to see the team win?” Your eyebrows raise. “You’re acting like you knew we’d win.”

“Well, didn’t you? Win?” The Fort boy speaks up, his arm lazily slung over Alejandro’s shoulder.

“I mean—” you stammer. “Like, yeah… it was still super rough. Oh, my God! Did you see their foul?”

“You had it though,” one said, and they all agreed.

Oh, you loved them so incredibly bad. “Thank you guys again. Seeing you helped me a lot, I swear.”

Pau quirks a brow at that. “Really?”

“No. Are you kidding me? I almost shit myself just from seeing you alone,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Imagine how I felt finding out you guys were all here.” That was true; you totally panicked.

Laughter fills your ears and you’re glad they’re able to find some amusement in your temporary misery. Then, “It was a good game,” Balde said, his voice soft. “But we have to get going soon.”

“Ah, you’re right! I should go too—uh, I’ll talk to you later?” You utter, looking over at Pau, who shoots his friends a look you don’t understand.

You don’t notice, but they now have knowing looks on their faces as they walk away, offering their goodbyes, which you gratefully return.

Once they’re gone, and it’s just the two of you, he pinches the fabric of your jersey in his fingers and guides you toward him once again, the action causing you to stumble into Pau. Slowly, before you can even process what he’s doing, his lips are delicately on yours. Taking your breath away.

You smile into the kiss, your hands coming to cradle his jaw while his slide over your waist. It’s short; you don’t mind. “Huh, good game kiss?”

“Good game kiss,” he murmured.

“Man, I’ve really got to try and score more, huh?” Your words are teasing, but there’s an underlying truth in them that makes him place another soft peck on your temple. “Are you leaving already?”

Pau shakes his head. “I’ll wait for you out here. Take your time, spend time with the team, yeah?”

“If you insist,” you hum, your hands trailing down to his forearms and you squeeze gently. “I won’t be long—and I know you’ll say that you don’t care, but I do. I’ll be back!” And with that, you leave.

He follows you with his gaze until you disappear from his sight. To think you had been overthinking the entire match just to have it end how he knew it would be was everything, and he hopes you know that you truly do belong here.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @levidazai + @ferrarifudds + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms + @paucubarsisimp ! ౨ৎ (LMK. LMK.)

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Absolution

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: After an argument, Benedict seeks forgiveness.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sub!Benedict, domme!reader, established relationship. Strip tease, slight begging, praise, massage, sexual tension.

Word Count: 2.0k

Authors Note: Anon request fill from HERE, where sub!Benedict begs reader to let him touch her. I'm not sure this is begging enough for you, Nonny, but it's what my muse chose - and after being unable to write for 2 months, I went with it. I hope that's okay. Unbetaed, cos if I ask someone to read this, I will chicken out of posting it. Errr, enjoy?

You feel as much as you see him—a hovering, hesitant presence in the doorway.

“May I… join you?”

His request is sotto voce, tinged with a gauzy hope that pulls your attention, eyes flicking to his reflection in the mottled glass of your vanity table mirror.

“You are not yet forgiven….”

Your response is a touch sharp, perhaps, as you restart your motions, untangling your hair with an ornate silver brush, the bitter edge of your dispute still ringing in your ears, even now, hours later. Yet there’s a metallic taste of victory on the tip of your tongue that he is the one attempting to broker the peace between you.

“Understood.”

Benedict nods, stepping fully into the bedroom now, the door clicking closed behind him as he continues talking.

“Perhaps I may find another way to apologise?”

He bows his head, lacing his fingers together loosely in front of him as he looks upon you through his lashes—a gentle, reproachful demeanour that softens the sharper edges of your irritation. After a beat, you twist around and stand up, moving towards him, the silk of your night robe a balm on your flushed skin, your body reacting to him in this room as it always does, despite what has transpired, something very Pavlovian about it. His light eyes seem to dance with the reflective candlelight from the nearby sconce as you stop just beyond touching distance.

“What are you proposing?”

You don't miss the way his gaze is drawn to the pull of fabric taut over the swell of your breast as you cross your arms, perhaps still a shade defensive.

“I seek absolution…”

His words are a sighed exhale, eyes pleading. You know precisely what he is referring to—that power dynamic play that neither of you can resist. And sure enough, a twitch of a smile ghosts over your lips in spite of yourself.

“And will you do as I tell you?”

You don't mean your voice to be quite so throaty, but the rapid dilation of his pupils and the jump of the vein in his neck speaks volumes.

“I will do anything for you…” His murmur draws attention to his pink, damp, plush, distracting bottom lip as if he has bitten it for your delectation. “My Lady.” It’s a goading, blatant addition, an invitation you are powerless to turn down, especially when he looks at you like that, all large pupils and quivering lip.

“Strip for me,” you command, a surge of want in your veins as his lip quirks up, his hands flying to his buttons instinctively.

You watch greedily as he fights off the cropped jacket, and his dextrous fingers start to pluck at the pearl buttons upon his paisley silk waistcoat. He is always so exquisitely wrapped in jewel-toned fabrics that it seems nearly a shame to ask him to remove them. As both items fall to the thick rug with an audible thump, you take a step to the side and sit in a comfortable chair in the corner of your bedchamber. You cross your legs, enjoying the bob of his Adam's apple as your legs are revealed through the parting of your robe. He has probably correctly guessed you are naked underneath; a keen flare of his nostrils as you sit back to get comfortable, gesturing for him to continue.

You lick your lips reflexively as you watch his elegant hands unwind his soft gold cravat, the candlelight catching the signet ring upon his little finger as he throws it to the floor and takes a step towards you, a nascent trace of that troublesome smirk toying at the corner of his lips.

“All of it, Benedict,” you warn, taking the upper hand as he seems to be advancing upon you still in his boots, shirt and trousers.

He stops short when he is a couple of paces away, close enough you can scent his cologne but too far to touch—perhaps an intentional tease. He will sometimes push up against your boundaries, that cheeky nature flaring under those beseeching, wanton looks. He follows your command, though, your skin flushing as he obediently pulls off his boots and tosses them aside haphazardly.

He takes another half-step forward, watching your eyes tracking the movement of his hands as he pushes down his braces, bouncing once on the outside of his upper thigh as they fall. Subconsciously, you squeeze your thighs together, tamping down the pulse of arousal, the sensual tension between you already heady and delicious, thick in the air, despite so many crossed words earlier.

“May I touch you, My Lady?”

His soft, yielding tone makes a thrill prickle across your scalp, but your tongue is still sharp with a barb.

“Earn it.”

His eyes flash at your challenge, and there is a flutter behind your ribs—you are as under his thrall now as he is yours.

And then he does something that makes your body surge with want. He suddenly buckles to his knees before you, looking up at you imploringly again through those long lashes.

“How may I earn it, My Lady?”

His ask is tender even as he makes short work of the buttons of his frilled shirt, kneeling temptingly beyond your kneecaps.

“I am still awaiting your fulfilment of my last command…” Your response is accompanied by a raised eyebrow, emphasising your point. Benedict is indeed still in shirt and trousers, although the shirt now hands lose from his broad shoulders, framing that lithe, toned torso.

“And once I am naked, what then, My Lady?”

“Patience, my love…”

Your tone is portentous, but you don't miss how something warm melts in his expressive eyes at the term of affection. His shirt sails down onto the rug, his movements carrying more urgency than before, keen to here your subsequent plans for him, no doubt.

With him still upon his knees, your breath quickens as he reaches for the buttons of his trousers, knowing as you do what lies beneath. Indeed as the front falls away, you are unsurprised to see he is without underwear as usual, a thatch of dark hair teasing before his cock springs free before you, you canting yourself forward slightly to see.

As he pushes the trousers down around his bent knees, you see the little half smile, noticing your lean-in, your eager stance to see him nude as requested—the flash of that playful nature, which makes his obedience so much more delicious. Your eyes focus upon the constellation of freckles upon his left shoulder as he does, temporarily transfixed by the play of muscle under his skin as he fights off his trousers the rest of the way while still on his knees. His triumphant huff and hurling aside of the item snaps you back from your short reverie, and indeed, what a sight it is to behold. A beautiful, toned, naked man before you on his knees, raptly awaiting your next word, his smooth chest rising and falling a little with shortened breaths of anticipation.

“My lady…” he prompts, but there is a trace of prideful preening, knowing he has you captivated, your legs uncrossing reflexively as you lean in further, your eyes drinking in the sight before you, his gaze falling briefly to your lap, hoping for a glance under your ribe.

“You may touch my feet, my love,” you offer, and you let out a ragged sigh as those large hands cup your arch and a thumb presses into a sensitive spot that makes you collapse back, putty in his hands already.

“Thank you, my lady; I hope I can soothe you…”

His light whisper falls onto your skin like feathers, your eyelids fluttering shut as his hands work their magic upon your feet. Indeed, you have been promenading today and his assured touch seems the perfect salve to the ache of miles walked. Tension drains through the soles of your feet as he works.

Before you know it, his hands have moved up, and you do not protest as he starts to massage your ankles and the lower part of your calves. Your whole leg becomes less stiff, your eyes still closed, breathe deep and even until he makes a sharp inhale that has your eyelids flying apart.

In your relaxed state your thighs have parted, and your robe following suit. His heated gaze is upon the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs, not yet open enough to betray how aroused you truly are.

“You may not touch.”

It's a clipped statement, an attempt to wrestle control when he had you compliant under his touch. A slight pout claims his handsome face as if hoping a puppy dog expression will make you yield.

“You are the most beautiful creature, please, please, My Lady…”

“Not yet,” you modify, his adulation weakening your resolve a touch.

He massages your left calf muscle, placing your foot upon the warm fuzz of his bent quad muscle, feeling the warmth emanating from his nearby cock, a temptation you resist moving your foot to brush against. But you can no longer tamp down the need to moan gently as your body responds to his expert touch. It makes his fingers dig into your flesh temporarily, and you hear him take a steadying breath, knowing he is fighting his desire to pick you up and take you to the bed—a desire raging just as brightly in you.

And so, as if catharsis for your earlier argument, you tease him more. Begin to writhe slightly in your seat, an undulation that inches your foot higher on his thigh, your toes curling into his flesh there as your noises become less restrained, his touch heavier, still soothing but with an undercurrent of urgency that speaks of pent-up passion. You can almost feel the increase in his heartbeat, the blood thrumming through his body, his cock no doubt leaking even though you dare not glance at it—too tempting a prospect, wanting to elongate this tease, this foreboding simmering between you ratcheting up the tension between you.

“You are heaven itself, My Lady, I live to bring you succour….”

There is nothing like his lilting, wanton poetic praise. When his hands round your kneecaps, you let him continue higher, dextrous hands cupping your lower thigh and squeezing the tension from your muscles there. His breath is laboured as the movement parts your legs, and he can see what he has wrought, a glistening warmth you can feel deliciously as the cooler air swirls between your now parted thighs.

“Please, My Lady…. Please let me touch you there…”

His tone is broken now, fawning words tumbling from him between deep breaths as if scenting you, his whole body tilted over your lower half, looking up at you from your lap, supplicant arousal humming in his being, feeling the heat of his cock against your toenails as he leans in.

“Undress me.” your voice a breathy whisper.

The tiny noise of victory he makes has your heart skipping a beat as his fingers instantly fly to the sash, holding your robe cinched at your waist. Watching him work through a hooded gaze and a fluttering chest as he unloops the knot and then, as if unwrapping the most precious gift, parts the material from around your body, pulling it down from around your shoulders until you are as naked as him.

“My Lady…..”

It's a stuttering, wrecked sigh, trembling hands ghosting over the quivering of your stomach, your ribs—not touching without permission, but still making your pulse race, your skin tingle. And you hunger for him like nothing else, uncaring of the disagreement you had earlier, irritation and pride usurped by the burning need you have for him as much as he has for you.

And so you relent.

“You may touch me anywhere, my love.”

Your greenlight has him almost howling, and before you know it, you are scooped up from the chair and carried to the bed, his body flexing deliciously against yours, your lips meeting in a hungry, inelegant kiss, tongues tangling. Words of apology will come later—after your bodies have what they crave.

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 1 year ago

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Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #chaggie #emily hazbin hotel #vaggie #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #niffty hazbin hotel #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #silly nonsense #charlie comes home without her suit jacket and vaggie literally faints thinking she's given to some other angel #charlie does not get why everyone is happy to hear she burnt her own jacket off on accident #while trying and failing to find her special demon-sneeze proof handkerchief #which vaggie (once conscious again) pulls out of her own blouse #bc remember babe- we figured out you kept mistaking it for part of your pocket lining? no matter which pocket we put it in???#so vaggie just started carrying one for her instead #it immediately comes in useful again #emily watches cherri's livestream of this via pentious's phone and CHEERS #while sTILL covered in the ashes and soot of charlie's former jacket #negotiations with heaven are going great #chaggie has a fanpage up there now and everything

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themultifandomgal · 9 months ago

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Harry Styles- Halloween With The Styles Family Pt1

Synopsis- YN met Harry while filming Dunkirk and although both their lives have been a whirlwind so has their romance. They started dating in 2017 and got married in 2023, 2 years after having their daughter Eve.

“Dat one daddy” Eve points to one of many costumes Harry had out “mamma can be da good witch and I can be da doggy”

Eve recently has been obsessed with The Wizard Of Oz after watching the original since her mum is Glinda in the new Wicked movie.

“Perfect. Speaking of where is mamma?” Harry asks putting the costume on his shared bed with his wife

“I fink outside”

“Planting more flowers?” Harry raises a brow at his now three year old

“Errr mamma said not to tell you so no” she smiles at her dad. Harry smiles shaking his head

“She loves her plants doesn’t she?” Harry takes his daughters hand and guides her downstairs and out the door to see his wife knelt down with a plant in one hand and trowel in the other, humming a familiar tune of ‘Golden’

“Mamma!!!” Eve shouts running over to her mum “I told daddy I wasn’t allowed to tell him what you were doing in da garden, but..” she now whispers in her mums ear “I fink he’s got super powers. He knew what you were doing”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I think he has super powers too, you know why?”

“Why?” Eve cocks her head to the side with a small frown

“Because I can do this” Harry lifts his daughter up as if she were a feather and spins her round. If the neighbours were out all they would be able to hear was the laughter of the little girl

“Ok ok put her down before you break something” YN laughs standing up and wiping the dirt on her trousers. Harry stops spinning round and places Eve back on her feet “now, have you decided what your going to be for Halloween?” YN asks the youngster

“Yep. Daddy is going to be Dorofy, I’m da doggy and your da pretty witch”

“Sounds perfect, but I’m not sure I have a Glinda costume”

“Can’t you wear da one on telly?”

“No baby, it wasn’t mine”

“You borrowed it?”

“Exactly”

“We have 2 days, I’m sure we can find a dress can’t we Evie?” Harry picks his daughter up and places her on his hip

“Yes!” she claps excitedly “daddy can we go and watch Wizz of Oz?”

“Course we can princess. Why don’t you go turn the telly on while I try and get your mother inside and away from the flowers?” Harry puts Eve down and the couple watch her skip in. Harry places an arm around YN’s shoulders and places a kiss on her temple “how did I get so lucky?”

“I pretty sure I’m the lucky one. I have a beautiful daughter, an extremely handsome husband and another perfect bundle on the way” YN places a hand on her very small bump

“Mamma! Daddy! Hurry!”

“We better hurry up” Harry tells his wife

“You get the popcorn started while I wash up” the couple make their way into the house. YN makes a start up the stairs when she remembers “oh don’t forget…”

“The caramel ice cream. I know”

“I love you”

“I love you more”

“Mamma, daddy it’s going to start wifout you” Eves voice come through from the living room making Harry and YN chuckle before they make a move, not wanting to make their impatient daughter any more impatient.

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #dad harry styles #harry styles x oc #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles

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thinking-emoji · 7 months ago

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RNZ interview mirror - the original file is exactly 700 kb too big for tumblr so I had to compress it slightly 🙃

Transcript under the cut!

YouTube megastars Dan and Phil will be coming to Aotearoa next week with a live show full of scandalous stories. For those who don't know them, these two Brits invented being internet famous. Coming to stardom in 2009, the pair have amassed a media empire with over 40 million combined followers, 2 billion views on YouTube, as well as a handful of best-selling books. Dan and Phil went on hiatus in 2018, with each coming out as gay soon after. This is their first tour together since then. The show is called Terrible Influence and it's coming to Auckland's Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre next Thursday, the 19th of December. I caught up with Dan and Phil earlier on the line from Australia.

DnP: Hello.

(Interviewer laughs)

D: Sorry, was that a weird stereo hello there? That must have been disturbing.

I: That's exactly how I wanted you to answer the call.

P: Yes, that's how we speak all the time. D: We share one braincell.

I: You speak in unison.

P: Yes. (laughs)

I: Because you two have lived together for quite some time, haven't you? D: We have. I: Not only working together for many years.

D: Yeah, like imagine like being really fed up with your co-worker and then you want to come home and you want to be like, God, this guy, I can't stand him. Like, what are we doing here, people?

P: Then he's in your house.

I: How long have you lived together for?

D: Errr, fourteen- P: No. D: No, thirteen- twel- P: Twelve years. I want to say twelve years. D: Twelve years, but it feels like 2000. Do you know what I mean? P: Time is not real. We don't know what's going on. D: At this point, we're like, you know, when you go to a zoo and there's two elderly tortoises that are about 400 years old. P: Yeah. D: That's how we feel. P: Yeah.

I: I'm glad that you've decided to, you know, take air travel to get to New Zealand.

D: It's literally the furthest place from home we could ever. So we get some tweets from people that are like, Dan and Phil, thank you for coming to New Zealand because, by golly, you've travelled a bit of a way. But hey, we're happy to be there. New Zealand is a beautiful country. P: Yes. D: And so are the people.

P: Whenever I come to New Zealand, I just want to move to New Zealand. I'm like, why am I in London when I could be in this beautiful, verdant land?

D: A lot of people do abandon for New Zealand and we understand why.

I: Yeah. Yeah. I'm glad that you do understand that. And it's your first big tour back since coming out in 2018. D: It is. I: The show is kind of a little bit like a gossip session. Is that right? Setting some things straight?

D: Absolutely. We're people that have been on the internet for a very long time and people have talked a lot of smack about us over the years, as a lot of people do with anyone with a lot of followers. And we're like, you know what? We all deserve to look back at our past. We all deserve to be roasted for the things that we did and said. That includes us being embarrassing and what our audience were like when they were all teenagers on the internet. But if we have a bit of a therapy session slash Catholic confession, we can end it with a bit of a hug and a pat on the back and go, it's okay. We survived. Here we are now in 2024. So it's like a roast and a healing session at the same time.

I: That must be quite an interesting thing because, you know, you both grew up on the internet and made so much content. You have this huge following that you've built. And so many people work really hard to kind of erase their former selves online. And that's probably something that you cannot do.

D: Oh, no. I would love to. It's too late. P: That's the thing as well. Sometimes our audience know us better than we know ourselves because they watch these videos so much. I never watch my videos back ever. So they'll come up to us at a meet and greet like, remember that thing you did in 2014? I'm like, no. D: No, I don't. P: I don't know what I said or did. D: But Phil, you love this ice cream flavour. P: Yeah. Speaking of ice cream, I'm excited for the Hokey Pokey ice cream. That was the thing I remember in New Zealand. I: It is good.

D: Yeah. Someone said, hey, you're excited to have it again. I was like, what was that? P: We don't have that. D: Don't you remember the time that you had it? P: No. D: Here, I've got this photo on my phone. P: Yeah. I'm going to have some more when I get there for sure.

D: That is not the main reason why we made the travel, but it will help with the jet lag.

P: It's 80% of the reason, I'll be honest.

I: Why is the show called Terrible Influence?

D: I think there's this idea that everyone on the internet, all these creators, all these TikTokers and podcasters are just horrible people that are trying to sell you some kind of crypto scam. And the truth is 90% of them are. And the question that we're asking is, were we terrible? What did we do to all these young people that watch it? Maybe the other question is, what did they do to us? Is what we do inherently bad? Is it a two-way street? Well, maybe we can answer that question and along the way just giggle so much that we kind of forgive and forget.

I: I'm sure you have a pretty good idea of the extent of your influence. But being in high school in New Zealand when Dan and Phil were first starting out, it was almost like a code word. (Dan laughs) It was how weirdos, kind of, identified with each other.

P: I think we've always been happy to kind of have representation for the slightly alternative people of the world.

D: Yeah, we like to joke that it's for the goths, the girls, the gays and the geeks. Any type of person that feels like on any level, they may not be completely mainstream. They may not be vanilla. They might feel other in any kind of way. We have an audience and we look out now because you understand when all these people were 14, it kind of looked like they were all teenagers. Now that they're all adults, some people are coming up to us, they're like, hi, Dan and Phil, meet my child. (laughs) But all these people have been in such different journeys in life. But it's knowing that, you know, back in the day, there was a place where no matter what kind of person they are, they felt like, you know what? Here in this comment section with these guys, I can just be myself and that makes me happy. I think whether that is something that we did do intentionally or it's an accidental byproduct of our influence, we'll take it.

P: And a lot of them have grown up with us as well. That's the lovely thing. So we're meeting people now that are just much older, but they're still watching the videos because we've- we've grown up and they've grown up as well.

I: Absolutely. And you took this hiatus, you know, from the internet. How long was that hiatus for and what was the impetus for it? And for coming back?

D: It was five dark years. P: Five years. D: And there was no Dan and Phil in the world until one day, like Jesus, we returned and here we are now.

P: We did. I think it's always a good thing to kind of have a moment where you're like, what's going on in life? Have a reset. And and I think we're kind of back now.

D: You know, like when everyone, you know, there was a pandemic and then they were like, you know what? My relationship, my job, you have decided it's not for me. I think we were trendsetters there. We did that early, voluntarily style, because we'd been going nonstop since 2009. And I was like, I just need to hit the brakes and look around for a little bit. And then I came back and I was like, hi, guys, I'm gay now. And they were like, ah, yes, that makes sense. But sometimes you have to hit the brake in life in order to take the space, look around you, take stock of things, make decisions. And ultimately, when you come back, it'll be healthier and happier.

P: And we didn't know this Dan and Phil thing- Like when we came back, we're like, do you guys still want these videos? And then, like, the reaction has been incredible, like, so many people watching the gaming channel. D: To the extent people thought Dan and Phil, you need to go on a tour right now. You need to get your butts all the way to Auckland (laughs) because I've been waiting for you to come back and we need to have a good night together. P: Yeah.

I: Yeah. And get out from behind the screen and kind of just interact face to face. You two are hugely into gaming and it's been quite a good pivot from YouTube to kind of try and be more successful, I guess. It's incredible how popular you are on these platforms. Can you tell me a little bit more about how that works and how you kind of make a career out of this?

D: Well, Phil's been doing it so long that he did it before YouTube could even monetize videos. He was doing it purely out of boredom and passion for the craft. P: Yeah. D: That's terrifying.

P: I'm a YouTube dinosaur. But I think with the gaming, we've got a Sims series, which we've got- how many episodes now? Like- D: Oh a hundred or so. P: A hundred episodes. And I think people follow along the journey with us playing the games. And it's like, I guess it's like when you were a little kid and you're watching your big brother play a video game. It's kind of that thing. You're just like watching along, having the bants. So I think what the people come to our videos for is more of the personality and us having a laugh rather than getting really into gaming.

D: Yeah! I mean, gaming is just the topic. It's like any type of TV or radio talk or commentary show, it could be about football, it could be about music and pop culture or the news, you just want to see people that you relate to, that you find entertaining, doing something that you find interesting and then you pair it together, and for lots of people they go: yeah! This is what i want to see P: Yeah.

I: Phil, how have you noticed the kind of gaming culture change over time, and was that something you're a little bit hesitant about, you know coming out as gay in that kind of domain, because we know generally that - you know, over the last decade-

D: The gamers are the worst demographic in the world absolutely- I: Things have changed. D: We’ve been on the internet since the ancient times and it's hard to say, like in a way obviously the internet these days, it feels like it's more terrible than ever, but in a sense it is a lot less toxic and a lot more wholesome and inclusive than it used to be.

P: Yeah, I'd say coming out on the internet is always going to be a scary thing, when you're saying that and being kind of vulnerable in front of so many people. Thankfully we've got such a great audience that the reaction was incredible, I would say.

D: And i think that what's great about the internet is that people can find their own communities, so even within spaces that you might think, oh they're dominated by this type of person – any subculture, any type of person that feels like, I want this space for myself – you can find it. If you want to order you know a ping pong club for girls with ginger hair called Susan that drink wine on a Tuesday, you can start that discord server, people will love it.

I: And I think it's nice to have those pocket on the internet where people can feel safe and can kind of commune together. You will be playing the Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre in Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland, on December the 19th. What about people who didn't grow up watching you, who think you might be quite funny right now. Like what could you say to them if you want them to come to your show?

P: I'd say, well luckily for you we have got a whole section of the start of the show which is the complete history of Dan and Phil in five minutes, so if you might have just slightly known who we are and be like, what's going on with these guys? We're going to catch you up in no time.

D: A lot of people drag their boyfriends, their sisters, sometimes like that mum that you need to drive you so you can have a couple of cocktails to the show, and we're like we need something for these people, we're going to catch them up, we're going to get them on our side, and if we have a spot- there's like a grumpy dad folding his arms in row three, I'm like, I'm going to crack you P: but- D: My mission for the night is you're going to be belly laughing by the end. P: They're always smiling at the end though. That's the thing, we do. We do crack them.

I: Oh and this will be your last show before a well deserved Christmas break, then back into the new year. What will Christmas look like for both of you?

P: I mean we're going to try and get home for Christmas. D: Yeah, yeah the question is, can we get back from Auckland on the 21st of December? P: Twenty- yeah. I think it's gonna be a challenge to get all the way home, but then I'm probably just gonna be asleep on my mum's sofa with jet lag, hoping to drink a lot of cocktails. D: I'm gonna slip into a nice coma.

I: I'm really glad to hear you are back together again.

D: Oh, well thank you! We really, really appreciate it and we're so excited for the show, so thank you New Zealand. P: Nice speaking to you!

@dnp-described

#dan and phil #phan #shoutout to tumblr for crashing while i proofread the transcript #daniel howell #amazingphil

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