#everyone else is questioning her sanity

[rubylarkspur22]

He is just like me…

And thus, Cynder became Spyro’s ride or die best friend.

[bueckets]

Going UP?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Description: From missed alarms to broken elevators, your Tuesday couldn't get worse, well, until it gets better. When a late-running grad student's desperate dash to save her thesis turns into an unexpected elevator encounter with UConn basketball sensation Paige Bueckers, she learns that sometimes the best assists come from broken machinery.

Armed with nothing but coffee-fueled anxiety and an encyclopedic knowledge of basketball analytics, you find yourself trading quips with college basketball's golden girl in a stalled elevator. What starts as a disaster turns into something else entirely when basketball theory meets practice, terrible jokes meet dangerous grins, and hot chocolate meets, well, everywhere except the mug.

They say love is a game of chances. But when you're trapped between floors with a girl who can bend physics on the court and make your heart run suicides off it, maybe it's worth taking the shot. Sometimes cupid doesn't use arrows. Sometimes he just breaks the elevator.

Featuring: One (1) very broken elevator Several questionably colored cocktails A security guard who's seen it all Basketball plays drawn in spilled Shirley Temples Analytics-based flirting And a whipped cream fight that definitely isn't regulation play

Coming soon to wherever meet-cutes happen in college sports. (Rated R for excessive basketball puns and gay panic)

WC: 8.1k (roughly)

Genre/Notes: uh, i tried to be funny, floofy, rom-com-ish? (i tried), smut at the end, someone gets their kitty ATE, proof read like 50%

Your sneakers pound against the cracked, patchy sidewalk of North Campus, dodging the construction zone that's been "two weeks from completion" since freshman year. The November air bites at your cheeks, sharp as broken glass, and your laptop bag repeatedly slams into your hip with each stride, probably turning your thesis notes into digital confetti. A gust of wind lashes at you, tugging at your jacket, your hair, your sanity, and sending a rogue candy wrapper tumbling like a lonely tumbleweed across the quad like some 50’s Old West showdown. 

You'd woken up to three missed calls from your advisor and an email that made your soul leave your body.

Meeting moved to 9:15 AM. Please bring updated analytics models.

It's 9:12.

The universe is really testing you today. First, your roommate's cat knocked your phone off the nightstand, somehow managing to turn off all five of your alarms. Then, the dining hall’s card reader had the audacity to look at your student ID like it was written in crayon, leaving you to scavenge through your bag for exact change like a Victorian orphan. And now this.

You weave through the crowd of freshmen congregating outside the Student Union like they've never seen stairs before, your thermos of room-temperature coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid. The wind whips a forgotten syllabus past your feet as you cut across the grass (sorry, campus maintenance), taking the "shortcut" that everyone pretends they don't use. You can practically hear the landscaping team groaning somewhere, shaking their heads at the worn-down dirt trail you and a thousand other students have carved into their perfect lawn.

Gampel Pavilion looms ahead, all glass and steel and architectural hubris. The morning sun hits it at an angle that makes it look like it's on fire, which feels appropriate given your current state of mild panic. You've spent so many hours in this building that the security guard, Mike, doesn't even look up from his crossword puzzle anymore when you scan your ID.

"Running late?" he calls out as you blast past his desk.

"What gave it away?" you shout back, already halfway to the elevators. Your sneakers squeak against the polished floors, leaving behind a faint trail of panic and shame— but most importantly, dirt. 

The ancient LED display above the elevator shows it's on the third floor. You slam the up button approximately forty-seven times, as if that's ever made an elevator move faster in the history of vertical transportation.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, shifting your weight between feet like you're doing some demented speed-skating warm-up. Your laptop bag keeps sliding off your shoulder, and you're pretty sure your hair looks like you styled it in a wind tunnel.  A strand falls into your eyes, and you blow it away with a frustrated huff. Everything about you screams disaster, and yet the elevator couldn’t care less.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open with all the urgency of a DMV employee on a Friday afternoon.

And there she is.

Paige Bueckers is leaning against the back wall of the elevator, one foot propped up behind her, looking like she just stepped out of a Nike ad. Her practice uniform is pristine, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail that somehow hasn't gotten the memo about today's wind situation. She's got AirPods in, absently spinning a basketball between her hands like it's an extension of her body.

Your brain short-circuits. 

Time seems to slow down as you stand there, probably looking like a deer caught in very attractive headlights. The elevator dings again, threatening to close its doors on your moment of crisis.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward just as the doors start to close, practically diving into the elevator like you're trying to save a ball going out of bounds. Your coffee sloshes, your bag swings, and you nearly face-plant into the corner.

Paige pulls out one AirPod, her eyebrows raised so high they might achieve orbit. "Nice entrance."

You straighten up, trying to salvage whatever dignity might be hiding in the corners of this elevator. "Thanks, I've been practicing."

The elevator starts its ascent with a concerning rattle that definitely wasn't part of the original design. You adjust your bag for the hundredth time, very aware that you probably look like you just lost a fight with a leaf blower. Meanwhile, Paige keeps spinning that damn basketball, the soft thump-thump of it between her hands matching rhythm with your still-racing heart.

Nine floors to go. Eight if your advisor hasn't moved offices again after the Great Coffee Incident of last semester.

You can handle this. You're an adult. A slightly disheveled, possibly caffeine-deprived adult, but still. Just because you're sharing an elevator with the university's basketball goddess doesn't mean you need to—

The lights flicker once. Twice.

The elevator shudders like it's having an existential crisis.

Then everything stops.

The emergency lights kick in, bathing everything in a red glow that makes Paige look like she's starring in a very stylish apocalypse movie. The basketball stops spinning.

"Well," she says, tucking the ball under her arm and giving you a smile that definitely doesn't make your stomach flip. "Looks like the universe has other plans for us this morning."

You look at your phone: 9:14 AM.

Your advisor is going to kill you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you mutter, jabbing at the emergency call button like it personally offended you. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

The little red light blinks back at you, mocking your entire existence, as if to say, yeah, good luck with that, idiot. You hit the button again, harder this time, because maybe the elevator just needs some aggressive encouragement.

"I don't think that's helping," Paige says, watching you with a mix of amusement and concern. She's still spinning that goddamn basketball, the rhythmic thump-thump now feeling less like a heartbeat and more like a countdown to your academic doom.

"Yeah? Well, neither are you," you snap, immediately regretting it. Great. Now you're trapped in an elevator AND you've just been rude to Paige fucking Bueckers. "Shit, sorry, I just—" You run both hands through your already catastrophic hair. "My advisor is going to crucify me. Like, actually crucify me. She's probably got a cross picked out and everything."

Paige catches the ball mid-spin. "Dr. Martinez?"

"How did you—"

"The only professor I know who actually might own a cross for student crucifixions." She tucks the ball under her arm. "She made one of our freshmen cry last week just by looking at her."

"That tracks." You slide down the wall opposite her, your legs finally giving up on the whole standing thing. "God, I can't believe this. I've got my entire thesis presentation on this laptop, three months of analytics data that I haven't backed up because I'm an idiot, and now I'm going to die in an elevator with—" You wave vaguely in her direction.

"With?" She raises an eyebrow, and you swear there's a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"With UConn's basketball savior who's probably missing practice right now because the universe decided today was a great day for some cosmic practical joke." You let your head thunk back against the wall. "Coach Auriemma's probably already got a hit out on me."

Paige laughs, and the sound does something weird to your chest. "Nah, Coach is more of a 'make you run suicides until you puke' kind of guy. Much less paperwork than murder."

"Fantastic. So I'll die from academic execution AND athletic retribution. Perfect way to start a Tuesday."

"You always this dramatic before 9:30?" She's definitely smirking now.

"Only when I'm trapped in elevators with pretty girls who should be at practice."

The words are out before your brain can catch up with your mouth. Your eyes go wide, and you seriously consider trying to pry open the doors and jump down the shaft.

But Paige just grins, wide and dangerous. "Oh, so you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're deflecting from the fact that we're stuck in a metal box that's older than both of us combined," you say, proud of how steady your voice comes out despite the internal screaming.

"And I think you're deflecting from the fact that you just called me pretty."

You pull out your phone again, desperate for a distraction. "No signal. Perfect. This is fine. Everything is fine."

"Could be worse," Paige says, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her feet almost reach where you're sitting, and you absolutely do not notice how long her legs are. "Could be stuck in here with Dr. Martinez."

That startles a laugh out of you. "Jesus, don't even joke about that. She'd probably make me defend my thesis right here."

"Yeah? What's it about?"

You look up from your phone to find her watching you with what appears to be genuine interest. "You really want to know?"

"Well," she gestures around the elevator, "it's not like I've got anywhere else to be."

You narrow your eyes. "If this is some kind of pity conversation—"

"It's not." She cuts you off, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm actually curious. Plus, you look like you might spontaneously combust if you don't talk about something other than being stuck in here."

She's not wrong. Your leg has been bouncing non-stop since you sat down, and you're pretty sure you're about to wear a hole in your bottom lip from biting it.

"Fine," you say, setting your phone aside. "But remember, you asked for this. And if you fall asleep, I'm using that basketball as a pillow."

Paige's eyes light up with something that makes your stomach flip. "Deal."

"Okay, so you know how current basketball analytics are basically just glorified box scores?" You shift to face her properly, your earlier panic morphing into the kind of enthusiasm that usually makes people's eyes glaze over. "Like, sure, we can track points and assists and whatever, but that's just the obvious stuff."

"And there's more than the obvious stuff?" Paige asks, settling in like she's actually planning to follow your inevitably chaotic explanation.

"So much more." You pull your laptop out, balancing it on your crossed legs. "Like, imagine being able to track not just who made the shot, but all the little things that made that shot possible. The way players move without the ball, how defensive shifts create spaces that don't show up in any stat sheet.”

Your hands start moving as you talk, painting invisible patterns in the air. Paige has stopped spinning her basketball, her eyes following your gestures with an intensity that makes you warm all over.

"It's like..." You pause, trying to find the right words. "You know how in chess, sometimes the most important move isn't the one that takes the piece, but the three moves before that made it possible?"

She nods, leaning forward slightly. "Like a setup play."

"Exactly!" You're fully animated now, previous elevator crisis temporarily forgotten. "But current systems don't track that. They don't see how Player A moving left makes Player B's defender shift just enough that Player C can—"

The emergency speaker crackles to life, making you both jump.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" The voice sounds bored, like stuck elevators are just another Tuesday morning inconvenience.

Paige reaches over and hits the call button. "Yeah, we're here. Two people."

"Alright, we've got maintenance heading up. Should have you out in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight."

The speaker clicks off, leaving you both in that red-tinted silence again.

"Fifteen minutes," you groan, letting your head fall back against the wall. "Dr. Martinez is definitely going to have that cross ready."

"Hey," Paige says, and something in her voice makes you look at her. "Tell me more about your system. How do you track all those micro-movements?"

You blink at her. "You actually want to hear more?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?" She's got this soft half-smile that does dangerous things to your ability to think straight. "Plus, you get all..." she waves her hand vaguely, "sparkly when you talk about it."

"Sparkly?"

"Yeah, like you're lit up from the inside." She says it so casually, like she hasn't just made your heart do a full court press against your ribs.

You clear your throat, trying to remember how words work. "Right. Well, um, I've been working with the computer vision lab to develop these tracking algorithms..."

The next fifteen minutes dissolve into a blur of technical explanations and basketball theory. Paige asks surprisingly specific questions, and you try not to look too pleased every time she leans in closer to see something on your laptop screen.

When maintenance finally gets the elevator moving again, it feels too soon.

The doors open on the fourth floor – your floor – and you scramble to pack up your laptop, suddenly aware that you've spent the last twenty minutes word-vomiting about analytics to one of the best basketball players in the country.

"Thanks for, uh, keeping me from completely losing it," you say, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "And sorry about the whole..." you gesture vaguely at yourself, "chaos."

Paige stands too, and even in the normal lighting, she's unfairly pretty. "Chaos looks good on you."

Your brain short-circuits. "Can I get your number?"

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl into the nearest trash can. But Paige just grins, that dangerous one that makes her look like she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Tell you what," she says, spinning the basketball on one finger because apparently she's physically incapable of not showing off. "Come to Friday's game. If you can spot one of those micro-interactions you were talking about..." She lets the ball roll down her arm and catches it smoothly. "Maybe you'll find out if I give my number to random girls I meet in elevators."

She backs into the elevator, maintaining eye contact until the doors close between you.

You stand there for a solid thirty seconds, staring at the brushed metal doors like they might reveal the secrets of the universe. Or at least explain how you went from having a mental breakdown about your advisor to what definitely felt like flirting with Paige Bueckers.

Your phone buzzes: another email from Dr. Martinez.

Meeting rescheduled to 2PM. Bring coffee. The good kind.

You look back at the elevator doors, then at your phone, then at the ceiling.

Looks like you're going to a basketball game on Friday.

The security guard at Gampel's student entrance looks at your ticket, then at you, then back at the ticket with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for people trying to use expired coupons at Target.

"This is— courtside," he says slowly, like maybe you don't understand what those words mean.

"Yeah, I, uh,” You shift your weight between feet, very aware of the growing line behind you. "I got it in an email?"

It comes out like a question because honestly, you're still not entirely sure this isn't some elaborate fever dream. The past three days have felt surreal, starting with Dr. Martinez actually smiling during your rescheduled meeting (turns out that fancy coffee shop downtown does make a difference) and ending with an email from pbueckers@uconn.edu that made you choke on your morning cereal.

The security guard squints at his scanner like it's personally offending him. "These are usually reserved for—"

"Is there a problem?" A familiar voice cuts through the growing awkwardness, and you turn to find Mike, your elevator-lobby guardian angel, approaching with his signature "I've seen too much student nonsense" expression.

"Got a courtside ticket here, but—"

"Oh, yeah," Mike says, shooting you a look that's somewhere between amused and knowing. "This one's good. Let 'em through."

You mouth a 'thank you' as you pass, and he just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "kids these days" under his breath.

The student section is already packed, a sea of navy and white that ripples with pre-game energy. But your ticket directs you past all that, down, down, down the steps until you're so close to the court you can smell the fresh polish on the hardwood.

"This isn't happening," you mutter to yourself, dropping into your assigned seat—which is literally close enough to high-five players coming off the court. "This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just casually sitting courtside at a sold-out game because you got trapped in an elevator and word-vomited about basketball analytics for twenty minutes. Totally normal Friday night."

The woman next to you, wearing what looks like several hundred dollars worth of UConn gear, gives you a concerned side-eye.

"Sorry," you say, slinking lower in your seat. "I talk to myself when I'm having an existential crisis."

She just nods and shifts slightly away, which, fair.

The arena fills up quickly, the ambient noise growing from a buzz to a roar. You try to look casual, like you totally belong here and didn't spend forty-five minutes earlier having a breakdown about what to wear to a basketball game when you're sitting close enough to be on TV. (You'd finally settled on jeans and a UConn hoodie, figuring if you're going to have a gay panic on national television, you might as well be comfortable.)

The teams come out for warm-ups, and your heart definitely doesn't skip when you spot number 5 leading the layup line. Paige moves like she's got some sort of cheat code for gravity, each motion fluid and precise. She's got her game face on, all focused intensity and practiced routine, but then—

She catches your eye as she circles back to the line, and her serious expression cracks just enough to let through a hint of that dangerous grin from the elevator.

"Oh, I am so screwed," you breathe, and the woman next to you shifts another inch away.

The game itself is a blur of motion and noise. You try to focus on analyzing plays like you promised, looking for those micro-interactions you'd rambled about, but it's hard to think strategically when Paige keeps making passes that shouldn't be physically possible. Your laptop's probably having a stroke trying to track all these movements.

By halftime, UConn's up by twelve, and you've filled three pages of your Notes app with what started as technical observations but has devolved into increasingly incoherent capslock about various impressive plays. The latest note just says "HOW DID SHE EVEN SEE THAT CUTTING GUARD??? PHYSICS???? HELP????"

"Nice analysis."

You nearly drop your phone. Paige is right there, pretending to adjust her shoes by the bench but clearly smirking in your direction.

"I'm being professionally thorough," you whisper-hiss back, trying to ignore how your pulse is doing full-court sprints.

"Uh huh." She stands up, heading back to the huddle, but not before adding, "You look good in UConn blue, by the way."

You spend the entire third quarter trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The fourth quarter is when you see it—one of those perfect setup plays you'd theorized about. Paige moves left, drawing her defender, while simultaneously nodding almost imperceptibly to her teammate. The slight movement causes a chain reaction: the defense shifts, creating a gap that shouldn't exist, and suddenly there's a perfect passing lane that materializes out of seemingly nowhere. The ball flows through it like water finding the path of least resistance, resulting in an easy layup that looks simple but was actually three moves in the making.

You're on your feet before you realize it, pointing and probably looking deranged. "That! That's exactly what I was talking about! The head fake was the trigger but it wasn't even about the—" You cut yourself off, becoming aware that several people are staring at you, including the woman next to you who's now practically in the next seat over.

As the final buzzer sounds (UConn by 18), your phone buzzes with a new email.

From: pbueckers@uconn.edu

Subject: Nice catch

Body: 617-555-0147

PS - Your "professional analysis" face is reaaaaallly cute. Even from ten feet away.

You stare at your phone long enough that the arena starts to empty around you, afraid that if you look away the numbers might disappear like some basketball Cinderella story. The woman next to you finally gets up, edging past with the kind of caution usually reserved for wild animals.

"Sorry about all the,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

She just pats your shoulder with grandmotherly sympathy. "Honey, I've been watching basketball for forty years, and I've never seen someone have a gay awakening quite that enthusiastically. Good luck with number five."

You're still sputtering when she disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with a phone number and the distinct feeling that the universe is either laughing at you or playing matchmaker.

Possibly both.

Nah— Definitely both.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, your bladder kindly reminds you that you stress-drank an entire large iced coffee before the game. Fucking wonderful. You glance at the concourse—and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment.

The bathroom line snakes around the corner like some kind of hydra-headed monster, full of people who clearly had the same brilliant beverage ideas you did. You briefly consider just holding it and dealing with the consequences later, but your body has other plans.

"This is karma," you mutter, taking your place at the end of the line. "This is definitely karma for all those times I made fun of people waiting in long bathroom lines."

The girl in front of you snorts. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure we're all suffering from the same coffee-based poor judgment."

Twenty minutes. Twenty. Entire. Minutes.

You've gone through every social media app twice, responded to three emails you've been avoiding, and played enough Candy Crush to rot your remaining brain cells by the time you finally emerge from the bathroom. The arena is practically empty now, just cleaning crew and a few lingering fans.

Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, that number burning a hole in your mind. You pull it out, staring at the digits like they might rearrange themselves into instructions on how to text your elevator-meet-cute crush without sounding like a complete disaster.

To: 617-555-0147

Hey, this is your favorite elevator analytics nerd. Great game tonight. That fourth-quarter setup play was chef's kiss

You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret every word choice. Chef's kiss? Really? Maybe if you run fast enough, you can catch up to your dignity before it leaves the building entirely.

Your phone buzzes before you can fully commit to your shame spiral.

From: Paige 🏀

some of us are heading to murphy's for dirty shirleys if you want to continue your "professional analysis" in person? promise there won't be any elevators involved

You nearly trip over your own feet.

Will there be a formal presentation required? Should I prepare slides?

just your sparkling personality and maybe an explanation of how you knew that play was coming before I did 😉

Bold of you to assume I wasn't just gesturing wildly at a mosquito 

we both know you're too much of a basketball nerd for that. meet you there in 20?

You pause at the arena exit, looking down at your very casual, very not-prepared-to-go-out outfit. But then again, when has anything about this situation been normal? 

Your eyes shoot back to your phone and your frantic typing begins once again.

Only if you promise to explain how that behind-the-back pass in the third quarter didn't break several laws of physics

deal. and hey?

Yeah?

the hoodie really does look good on you

Your stomach shoots to your ass and you stand there grinning at your phone like an idiot until Mike, doing his final security rounds, walks by and shakes his head.

"Don't stay out too late, kid," he calls over his shoulder. "These love stories always get complicated when they start in elevators."

"That was literally ONE MOVIE," you shout after him, but he just waves without turning around.

You look down at your phone one more time, then up at the now-empty arena, and can't help but laugh. Somehow, a broken elevator, an understanding security guard, and a basketball player with a dangerous grin have turned your disaster of a week into whatever this is.

Time to find out if Dirty Shirleys taste better when you're sharing them with a girl who can bend physics on a basketball court.

Murphy's is exactly what would happen if a sports bar had a baby with a college town dive and raised it on a strict diet of neon signs and questionable decor choices. The walls are plastered with enough UConn memorabilia to fill a museum, if museums were into collecting signed napkins and mysteriously stained jerseys.

Your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics as you push open the door, immediately hit by the smell of mozzarella sticks and what you really hope is just decades of spilled beer. The place is packed with post-game energy, and you're pretty sure your heart stops completely when you spot Paige at a corner booth, still in her game-day warmups because apparently she just casually walks around looking like a Nike ad.

"Analytics nerd!" she calls out, waving you over with that stupid grin that makes your brain cells commit mass suicide. "We saved you a seat!"

The 'we' turns out to be a collection of players who could probably stack on top of each other and touch the moon. You slide into the only open spot—right next to Paige, because the universe is clearly not done testing your ability to form coherent sentences today.

"Everyone, this is the elevator girl who knows more about our plays than we do," Paige announces, and your face goes hot enough to fry an egg. "Elevator girl, this is everyone."

"I have a name, you know," you manage, trying to ignore how her shoulder is pressed against yours in the crowded booth.

"Yeah, but 'elevator girl' has a better ring to it," she says, sliding a violently pink drink your way. "Plus, it's technically accurate."

"So is 'basketball menace' but you don't see me—" Your mouth snaps shut as her teammates start cackling.

"Oh, I like this one," says a girl you recognize as KK Arnold, grinning like she just got early Christmas. "She's got bite."

"She's got analytics," Paige corrects, but she's looking at you with something that makes your stomach relocate to somewhere in the general vicinity of Jupiter. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you caught that play coming."

You take a long sip of your Dirty Shirley to buy time, immediately regretting it when the sugar content threatens to give you instant cavities. "Holy shit, what's in this? Pure pixie stick powder?"

"Don't deflect," Paige says, poking your side. "We've got a whole team of analysts and none of them caught it. So spill."

"Fine, but only because you bought me diabetes in a glass." You shift to face her, accidentally-on-purpose letting your knee rest against hers under the table. "It was your head."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "My head?"

"You've got this tell," you say, getting into it now because apparently basketball analysis is your ideal flirting language. "This tiny little head tilt you do when you're setting up something sneaky. Like a cat about to knock something off a table, but make it basketball."

The entire table goes quiet, then erupts in laughter.

"She's got you there, P," Ice wheezes. "You do look like a menacing cat sometimes!"

Paige is staring at you with a mix of indignation and something else that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. "I do not have a cat tell."

"You absolutely do," you say, emboldened by sugar and the way her eyes keep dropping to your lips. "It's actually kind of cu—"

"SHOTS!" someone yells, and suddenly there's a tray of something alarmingly blue being passed around.

"Oh god," you mutter, watching the liquid slosh ominously. "Is this what happens when a Smurf dies?"

Paige nearly chokes on her drink. "That's terrible!"

"Just like these shots are about to be?"

She leans in close—too close, definitely too close for your remaining brain cells to function—and whispers, "Good thing I like terrible jokes."

Your stomach shoots to your ass (and possibly into another dimension) as she pulls back with a wink that should be illegal in at least forty-eight states.

"I hate you," you inform her, grabbing one of the Smurf funeral shots because if you're going to have a gay crisis in a college bar, you might as well commit fully.

"No you don't," she says with absolute certainty, and the worst part is she's right.

You really, really don't.

The night dissolves into a blur of increasingly ridiculous drinks (who knew they made something called a "Husky Howl"?), basketball stories that get more elaborate with each round, and Paige's thigh pressed warm against yours under the table. You learn that she stress-bakes before big games, that she once tried to teach her dog to play basketball, and that when she really laughs—like, really laughs—she snorts a little and it's possibly the cutest thing you've ever seen.

At some point, Azzi starts drawing up plays on napkins with increasingly chaotic drink-fueled creativity. Aaliyah Edwards keeps stealing her pen to "fix" the defensive rotations, while Nika Mühl throws wadded-up straw wrappers at both of them, critiquing their "absolutely trash spacing."

"No, no, look," KK follows imaginary lines with her finger across the napkin, accidentally dragging it through a puddle of spilled Shirley Temple. "If we run this here, and then—" she grabs your arm— "you're the defense, okay? Stand up."

"I absolutely am not," you protest, but Paige is already pulling you up with that stupid grin that makes your knees forget how joints work.

"Come on, elevator girl," she teases, positioning you near the booth. "Show us those analytics skills in action."

"I hate all of you," you mutter, but you're laughing as KK tries to demonstrate some elaborate defensive scheme that mostly involves her spinning in circles while Aaliyah provides unhelpful commentary.

"Your footwork is trash, bestie," Aaliyah calls out, now using maraschino cherries to build what appears to be a scale model of the paint.

"YOUR footwork is trash," KK shoots back, then promptly trips over nothing.

"Ladies, ladies," Paige steps in, all faux seriousness undermined by the way she can't stop grinning. "Let a professional show you how it's done."

She moves behind you, hands settling lightly on your hips, and your brain immediately flatlines. "See, proper defensive stance is all about—"

"Get a fuckin' room!" Nika yells, launching another straw wrapper that hits Paige square in the forehead.

"Actually," Paige says close to your ear, and your stomach does approximately seventeen backflips, "I've got that new analytics setup at my apartment if you want to see it. You know, for research purposes."

You turn to face her, very aware that her hands haven't moved from your hips. "Research purposes?"

"Mhmm." That dangerous grin is back. "Purely academic, of course."

"Of course," you manage, trying to ignore the way your pulse is doing a full drumline routine.

"Oh my god," KK groans from the booth. "This is worse than when Aaliyah tried to flirt with that barista using coffee puns."

"Hey!" Aaliyah protests. "That was smooth!"

"You asked if she wanted to 'espresso' her feelings!"

"And now we're dating, so who's the real winner here?"

Paige rolls her eyes at their antics, but her thumbs are drawing small circles on your hips that are making it very hard to focus on anything else. "So? Want to help me with some late-night analysis?"

Your stomach shoots to your ass as you meet her eyes, finding them sparkling with something that definitely isn't just about basketball statistics. "I mean, it would be unprofessional to turn down a research opportunity..."

"GET OUT OF HERE," Azzi throws a cherry that sails completely wide of both of you. "Your gay panic is ruining my plays."

"Your plays were already ruined," Nika points out, helpfully redrawing the vodka-smudged X's and O's with what appears to be lip gloss.

Paige grabs her jacket with one hand and your hand with the other, tugging you toward the door. "Don't wait up, nerds!"

"USE PROTECTION!" Aubrey shouts after you, causing several nearby tables to choke on their drinks.

"I mean, analytics can be very dangerous," you say with mock seriousness as you step into the cool night air, very aware that Paige hasn't let go of your hand. "All those numbers flying around."

"Absolutely hazardous," she agrees, pulling you closer as you walk. "Better stick together. For safety."

"For safety," you repeat, hoping she can't feel your pulse racing where your fingers are intertwined. "And research."

"And research," she echoes, giving you that sidelong grin that makes your heart forget how to beat properly. "Though I should warn you..."

"Yeah?"

She stops under a streetlight, turning to face you with eyes that sparkle with mischief. "My elevator works perfectly fine."

Your laugh echoes off the empty street. "Damn. There goes my backup plan."

"I'm sure we can find other ways to get stuck together," she says, and your stomach relocates somewhere in the general vicinity of Mars.

As you follow her down the quiet streets of Storrs, your joined hands swinging between you, you make a mental note to buy Mike the biggest coffee gift card you can afford.

Broken elevators might just be your new favorite thing.

Paige's apartment is exactly what you'd expect from someone who's somehow both a basketball prodigy and a complete dork—there's a literal trophy shelf right next to a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops, and her UConn jersey hangs framed above what appears to be a very elaborate gaming setup.

"Nice lightsaber," you say, nodding to the collector's edition propped in the corner.

"Nice deflection from how your hands are shaking," she shoots back, shrugging off her jacket.

"It's cold outside!"

"Uh huh." She disappears into the kitchen, and you hear cabinets opening. "Want some hot chocolate? I promise it's better than those nuclear waste shots Aubrey kept ordering."

Your stomach does a weird flip at how domestic this feels. "Only if you have—"

"Mini marshmallows and whipped cream? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

You follow her voice to find her already pulling out mugs, one of which has "Ball is Life" written in what appears to be glitter pen. "The kind that owns a bedazzled basketball mug?"

"First of all, Nika made this for my birthday and it's a masterpiece," she says, grabbing milk from the fridge. "Second of all, you're just jealous of my sophisticated taste."

"Oh, absolutely. Nothing says sophistication like..." you pick up a container from the counter, "unicorn hot chocolate mix?"

She snatches it back, fighting a grin. "It's limited edition!"

"Of course, my mistake. Clearly I'm in the presence of a fine dining connoisseur."

The kitchen fills with the smell of chocolate as she heats the milk, and you try not to stare at how she's rolled up her sleeves, forearms on full display as she stirs. You fail miserably.

"See something you like?" she asks without turning around, because apparently she has eyes in the back of her head.

"Just admiring your hot chocolate technique."

"My technique is excellent, thank you very much." She turns, holding up a can of whipped cream with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Want to see?"

Your throat goes dry. "I feel like this is a trap."

"Maybe." She takes a step closer, and your back hits the counter. "But you've been analyzing my moves all night. Shouldn't I get a turn?"

You're about to say something witty—really, you are—but then she's shaking the whipped cream can and all your brain cells collectively abandon ship.

"Don't you dare—" 

The words are barely out before she's spraying whipped cream directly at your face. You squeal (not your proudest moment) and grab for the can, resulting in a brief wrestling match that ends with cream basically everywhere except in the actual mugs.

"You're such a menace!" you gasp, trying to wipe cream off your nose while she cackles.

"Says the girl who called me out on my head tilt in front of my whole team!"

"That's different! That was professional analysis!"

"Oh yeah?" She steps closer, effectively pinning you against the counter. "Analyze this."

Your heart stops as she reaches up, thumb gently wiping whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. Time seems to freeze, your entire world narrowing to that point of contact and the way her eyes drop to your lips.

"Your technique could use some work," you manage to whisper, and she laughs—that real laugh, with the little snort that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

"Maybe you should show me how it's done then."

Your stomach shoots through the floor as you reach up, threading your fingers through her hair (definitely getting whipped cream in it but whatever), and pull her down to meet you.

She tastes like chocolate and whipped cream and something uniquely her, and you can feel her smile against your lips as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

"How's that for technique?" you murmur when you finally break apart, both breathing a bit harder.

"Hmm." She pretends to consider it, but her eyes are sparkling and her hands are still firmly on your waist. "Might need more data to make a proper analysis."

"Oh my god, you're actually worse than me with the nerd references."

"You like it," she says with absolute certainty, leaning in again.

"Maybe," you concede against her lips. "But only because you're cute when you're being smug."

She pulls back just enough to give you that dangerous grin that started this whole thing. "Just cute?"

"And modest, clearly."

"I'll show you modest," she growls, and then she's kissing you again, deeper this time, backing you further against the counter until you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body entirely.

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, 

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, forgotten in the haze of warm laughter and sticky fingers. At some point, her lips found their way back to yours, sweet and a little messy, and now you’re on her couch, knees bumping against hers as you both settle into an almost tentative rhythm. She pulls back just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, and her breath fans across your lips in short, uneven bursts.

“You’re trouble,” she whispers, her voice low and a little breathless, her hands sliding up your arms to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the curve of your collarbone.

“You like trouble,” you fire back, and there’s just enough of a spark in your tone to make her grin.

“I really do,” she admits, and before you can respond, her lips are on yours again, slower this time, deliberate. It’s not the playful teasing from before—it’s something heavier, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest and your hands curl into the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

Her fingers tangle in your hair as she shifts, nudging you gently until your back hits the cushions. She hovers above you, her knees bracketing your thighs, her ponytail spilling over one shoulder as she leans down to kiss you again. This time, it’s a little rougher, her teeth catching on your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, and the sound seems to light something in her eyes.

“You’re killing me,” you murmur against her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, her grin sharper now.

“Good,” she says simply, and her hands are on the hem of your hoodie, tugging it up. “This okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard, and she doesn’t wait for a second invitation. The hoodie’s off in a flash, tossed somewhere behind the couch, and her eyes sweep over you like she’s committing every inch to memory. Her hands are warm as they skim over your sides, fingertips brushing against bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re gorgeous,” she says softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the way she says it makes you believe her, even with your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage, trying to sound casual even as she leans back down, her lips finding the curve of your jaw and then lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hands find her waist, and you can feel the strength of her beneath the soft cotton of her sweatshirt, her muscles flexing slightly as she shifts against you.

“Should we,” she starts, her voice trailing off as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s a question there, unspoken but clear, and you answer it by pulling her back down, your lips crashing into hers with more urgency than before.

“Definitely,” you say between kisses, and that’s all the encouragement she needs.

Her sweatshirt joins your hoodie somewhere on the floor, and her hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, the curve of your hip. It’s all a blur of heat and soft laughter and the kind of clumsy, sweet desperation that only comes with two people trying to figure out how they fit together.

The couch is too small, the angles all wrong, and at some point, she pulls back just enough to breathe, “Bed?”

You nod, and then she’s pulling you to your feet, her hand sliding down to lace her fingers with yours as she leads you toward her room. There’s something about the way she looks back at you, her grin soft and a little nervous, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

The moment you’re through the door, she’s on you again, her hands sliding up your back as she kisses you like she’s trying to memorize every curve, every shiver. The bed is soft beneath you, and her weight is solid and warm as she follows you down, her knee nudging between yours as she leans over you.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘research’ thing,” you tease, and she laughs against your collarbone, the sound low and husky and so incredibly her.

“Don’t distract me,” she murmurs, and her hands are on you again, her touch firm and sure and just a little shaky in a way that makes your chest swell with affection.

And when she kisses you again, slow and deep, you think, for the first time all week, that maybe the universe actually got something right.

The mattress dips under her weight as Paige pulls back just enough to take you in, her hair falling loose from her ponytail, framing her face in a way that feels criminally unfair. There’s a glint in her eye now, something teasing but focused, like she’s about to run the most calculated play of her life.

“You look nervous,” she says, her lips curling into that sharp grin that’s been undoing you all night.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, though your voice cracks on the last syllable like your body’s calling you out.

She chuckles, low and throaty, and leans down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Good. Because I’m about to ruin you, and I don’t need you overthinking it.”

Before you can process what she said, she’s sliding down your body with deliberate slowness, her hands dragging over your sides, down your hips, and hooking around the waistband of your leggings. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking permission, and the second you nod, she pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you feeling bare and achingly vulnerable.

“Holy shit,” Paige mutters under her breath, her eyes locked on you like she’s just stumbled on a masterpiece at an art museum. Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs tracing small circles that send shivers racing up your spine. “You’re so—” She stops, shakes her head, and looks up at you with that cocky grin. “Nah, I’m gonna show you instead of telling you.”

Her lips press to the inside of your knee, soft at first, but as she moves higher, her kisses grow hungrier, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you squirming.

“Paige,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, but she just hums against your thigh like she’s savoring her favorite meal.

“Patience,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as she shifts lower. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Your response gets caught in your throat as her mouth finally finds you, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had promptly evaporates. Her tongue moves with the same precision she has on the court, all calculated angles and devastating accuracy, and it’s like she’s figured out exactly how to dismantle you.

“Fuck—Paige—” Your hips jerk involuntarily, but her hands hold you steady, her grip firm enough to keep you grounded while her mouth does the opposite.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her lips glistening, and there’s a wicked glint in her eye that makes your stomach drop in the best way. “Hang tight,” she says, reaching toward the nightstand.

“What are you—oh my God,” you gasp as she pulls out a vibrator, the sleek little device gleaming like it was made for moments like this.

Paige winks, all confidence and mischief, as she turns it on, the low hum filling the room. “You trust me, right?”

You nod, because at this point, you’d probably trust her to lead you into a cult if it meant feeling like this.

“Good.” She leans back down, her mouth finding you again just as the vibrator presses against you, and the combination is so overwhelming it almost knocks the breath out of you.

Your hands fly to her hair, tugging as the vibrations send shocks of pleasure racing through your body, and her tongue works in tandem, teasing and relentless. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you can feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, with every calculated movement.

“Paige, I—” Your words dissolve into a moan that would make your ancestors weep, your thighs trembling as she doubles down, her grip on you tightening.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against you, her voice low and full of something that sounds dangerously like pride. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And just like that, you do. The orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching at the sheets as your vision whites out. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you swear you hear yourself speaking in tongues.

Paige doesn’t stop until your legs are twitching, and even then, she presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back with the most self-satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“Did I just—” You pause, catching your breath, your voice hoarse. “Did I just have an exorcism?”

Paige laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you did, I think I’m gonna need to start charging for holy services.”

“Fuck you,” you say weakly, though the way you’re still grinning probably ruins the effect.

She crawls back up to you, her body warm and solid as she settles next to you, her arm slinging over your waist. “Oh, you’re definitely going to want to do that next,” she teases, pressing a kiss to your temple.

And just like that, you’re laughing, still breathless and a little wrecked, but somehow more at ease than you’ve felt in ages. Paige grins down at you, smug but soft, and you think, maybe, that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Sometimes the best love stories start with a malfunction.

Just don't tell Mike. He's smug enough already.

The End

[mickyschumacher]

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬.

this post is for my sanity but here is a list of drivers i think embody childhood friends to lovers simply just because (not proofread at all):

oscar piastri. so so so obvious. everything about him screams it. so attentive to everything about you and so goddamn proud of you. definitely only smiles like an idiot around you. refuses any other claims of smiling made by anyone else. the happiest when he's with you. enjoys watching you do something your passionate about. more certain about his feelings (and yours) than you are–like a hundred percent tells you out of the blue and is very persistent on them. like he's not shy about his feelings. but madly blushing and giggling to himself when he's with you. big on hand holding, hugging, cheek kisses... as discussed, he ain't shy. nicole probably tried to get you together first but oscar got embarrassed until he realised he needed her help. has a soft spot not just for you, but your entire presence in his life. oscar also likes to plan his dates with you. anything that makes you happy makes him happy.

mick schumacher. this is also obvious. you and mick have known each other your whole life. rumour has it you were born in cribs next to each other. you both know everything about each other. there for each other's most awkward, saddest, angriest, scariest, funniest moments. not sure if your feelings are real bc everyone from michael and corinna to your grandma has been planning for the both of you to get married. very much a blushing type of guy. he'd happily sit and listen to you yap. enjoys spending time with you no matter what. horse riding, picnics, lunch, long drives... mick would pretend they were dates until he actually told you he liked you. maybe this sounds crazy, but a pinky holder. like before you got together... this drove him crazy. such a simple act but he loves it.

paul aron. the endless nights you spent with each other as children in estonia... they were magical. all summer, you were off to the beach or walking around in the warm evenings to cool off. paul is very much in love with you and has been since he first met you. he tries to play it off, acting all cool about it and what not. "oh her? yeah she's my best friend." very happy to have you as his best friend–definitely brags about you. reality of his pretence: he is an absolute mess around you. always smiling here and there resulting in his brother ralf questioning him. thinking about you 24/7. aka very attentive. if you get sick, absolutely will not stand for it. he enjoys taking care of you. other than being in estonia with you, his favourite time with you is go-karting. teaching you what he's passionate about and then listening you lecture him about how worried you always are... it grounds him.

patricio o'ward. ah pato. the very personification of optimism itself. another one who isn't shy about his feelings but gets shy. he can't help it. how could he not love you? you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. pato loves teasing you. always claims you're smiling because of him, that you're blushing, and, wait for it... that you love him. go figure! (doesn't deny anything when people mistake you for a couple.) pato likes the domestic things with you. yes, he absolutely cherishes seeing you at his races. but he likes when it's just you, him, and norbi. like watching norbi run around the house with muddy paws and you're chasing norbi. loves cooking with you and yapping about the past. secretly enjoys when you and his sister gang up on him because he knows how much elba cherishes you. the best thing, however, is all those things in mexico. p.s. he fake proposed to you when you were kids. has the recording of it and intends to play it at your wedding.

charles leclerc. childhood lovers - CL... it's meant to be. pascale endorsed the idea early on and charles thought his mother was crazy. you were his best friend... you and him? surely not. but then he started seeing you differently. suddenly your smiles were making his heart skip. looking down at your teary-eyed face from a podium made him malfunction. the warmth of your hand was a feeling he yearned for as you consoled him. suddenly his platonic 'i love you' made him breathless and he would spend days learning how to breathe again. you always caught his lingering gazes, immediately for you to look away which got him grinning. was literally told not to tell anyone about signing with ferrari but how could he not tell you? waited for his first win with ferrari to actually tell you he's in love with you. (arthur and lorenzo had never been happier because they had been telling him to do it for years on end.) charles honestly doesn't know how formula one will go for him but he had planned his entire future with you in it. likes to carry a ring around with him because he's always waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Mine- Christopher Sturniolo

Summary: You’re on stream with the triplets and you come on the screen and the chat goes CRAZY, starts hitting on you, calling you beautiful, andChris gets a little jealous and decides to remind you of who you belong to…

Warnings: SMUTTTT, Dom!Chris,Sub!Reader, p in v, Unprotected sex (practice safe sex please), degradation, praising, oral (fem receiving), (idk what else i missed)

A/N: UMMM THIS WAS REQUESTED A LONG TIME AGO BUT TY FOR REQ THIS SO SORRY ITS TAKEN ME SO LONG, Chris is low-key like ROUGH in this.. Could u tell I'm ovulating

PSA: THIS IS MY WORK PLEASE AND THANK YOU DO NOT USE MY WORK AT ALL

Chris and I have been dating in the public eye for about 2 ish weeks now, but in private it's been 2 years, surprisingly the fans took it a lot better than he and I both expected. I've received more love than hate, occasionally I'll get a 14-year-old girl in my DMs or comment section talking about stealing her man or whatever.

Today was the first time the Triplets had streamed on their Twitch channel in a couple of months now, so obviously Chris invited me for our first actual Twitch stream since being out in the public eye.

“MATT YOU FUCKING SUCK, HOW DID YOU ALREADY DIE AFTER BEING IN A MATCH FOR 3 MINUTES” Chris yells through his headset.

“Hey, baby...” i slowly walk a little timid after trying to compose myself to join the stream.

Chris squeals softly excited to see me finally join the stream “Hi ma, glad to see you finally keeping me company” he pats his lap for me to sit, and I smile softly adjusting myself on his thigh.

I giggled softly looking through the chat. “Hey someone named Ellie just subscribed”

“SHES A PRO ALREADY” Nick yells.

Instead of focusing on the game, Chris was playing I found myself looking through their chat.

Sturnfan626: Y/N IF YOU AND CHRIS BREAK UP BE MINEE

The4thtriplet: Shes stunning oh my god

Crybaby19853: this is how I find out Chris has a girlfriend? But wait why is she like absolutely beautiful.

The chat was flooding with compliments about me and how Chris bagged me or them not understanding how Chris pulled me.

“Awe Chris your fans are so sweet look” I smiled at him as he glanced at the chat screen his eyes darkened watching 35k people hitting on me, and even a couple wanting me to start an Onlyfans which to protect my sanity and privacy I would never.

“Yeah I know I got a hot girlfriend” Chris sort of rolls his eyes before focusing his eyes back to the screen.

“Thank you, everyone,” I softly giggle as Chris’ hand snaked around my waist gripping it a little hard.

I was bombarded with comments in the chat, responding to questions about Chris and me while the boys kept playing Fortnite. Unbeknownst to me, it was disturbing Chris, as he began muttering curse words under his breath, a rare occurrence unless he's truly angry.

“I don't know about you guys but I'm super fucking tired,” Chris says while clicking out of the match, now using both of his hands and wrapping them around my waist.

“BYE EVERYONE WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR JOINING OUR STREAM TONIGHT” Nick yells kissing the camera.

“we’ll see you when we see you,” Matt says ending the stream

Chris groans as the stream ends leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. “Get on the bed”

“Hm?” I turn my head to face him furrowing my eyebrows.

“You fucking heard me Y/N, don’t be a fucking stubborn brat” Chris says coldly.

“O-okay” I obeyed hopping off his lap walking around to the bed and lying down resting myself on my elbows.

Chris walked over hovering over me between my legs and caressing my cheek with his thumb “Such a greedy fucking whore,” he chuckled softly “fishing for compliments from other people” he shook his head leaning down and colliding his lips with mine hungrily. He wrapped his hand around my throat applying just the right amount of pressure getting a soft moan out of me, sending an invitation to explore my mouth. While exploring my mouth his hand travels down my body yanking down the sleep shorts I walked around the house in all day making them bunch up around my ankles. He pulls away softly smirking down at me fully removing my underwear and the rest of my shorts throwing them across the room.

He settles between my legs using his finger and gliding it up and down my wet, aching pussy. “So fucking beautiful,” he says as his voice drops into a husk. He analyzes my face as he slowly glides his finger into me watching as my breath hitches. “And so fucking wet” he chuckled dipping his head down and kitty-licking my clit while pumping his finger in and out of me.

“O-oh s-s-shit Chris” i moan out “s-so fucking good”

He harshly sucks my clit taking it between his teeth while he adds a second finger into me curling his finger up and hitting that hard-to-reach spot.

My back arches off the mattress watching him enjoy every inch of me in his mouth. he began pumping faster into me making my moans turn into whimpers “S-So f-fucking close” I breath out.

Chris groans against the taste of my arousal all over his mouth “Cum” he mutters diving into my pussy like his last meal, pumping faster in and out of me.

“CHRIS” I squeal finally snapping that knot in my abdomen all over his mouth and fingers. I sit up balancing my weight against my elbows looking at him and wiping his mouth against his forearm and undressing himself.

“The first one was free, you’re working for the next few” he grins beginning to take off his boxers as his aching, red cock.

My eyes widened “W-what?” I stuttered.

“You didn't think I was done with you, did you?” he comes now laying between my legs, his face just inches away from mine, and rubbing his cock through my sensitive folds.

I softly nodded batting my eyelashes at him. “Oh? Don't be so naive baby” he coos, continuing to rub his tip against my folds. “I'm far from done with you” his chuckle was almost sadistic, I'd never seen him like this but holy mother of pearl it was turning me on so fucking fast.

He aligned his cock with my entrance pushing his tip in slowly then pulling back out a couple of times, teasing my entrance, making me whine from the loss of contact. “You want it?” he says grabbing my chin and making me look at him.

I nodded violently stuffing my bottom lip out for him. “You beg for what you want Y/N” his voice turned husk.

“P-please Chris” I whined as his tip continued to push in and out of me.

“Please what, princess?” he glides his thumb over my bottom lip while giving me a faux sympathy look on his face.

“P-please fuck me, Chris,” I stated confidently swallowing a lump in my throat.

He chuckles before pushing his length farther into me “Such a pretty mouth, begging so nicely” he smirks fully bottoming out in me, making my eyes touch my brain.

"God you don't know how bad I missed fucking this little pussy of yours," Chris smirked. "That's right, princess. I want you until you see fucking stars. I won't even fucking stop if someone sees or hears. You're mine, understand? You're my little fuck toy," he husked.

I whimpered at his words. I'd never been more aroused than I was right then. He began to regain his fast pace, as I cried out in pleasure.

"Fuck, Chris!" I shouted. This seemed to turn Chris on even more as he thrust into me even harder, making my tits bounce.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," I moaned.

Chris grunted, leaned his head towards my neck, and latched his lips onto my soft skin. He took my skin in between his teeth and sucked forcefully.

"That's gonna leave a mark, Chris, stop," I Whined.

He pulled away and smirked. "I know, that's the point, you dirty little slut, I want people to see you belong to ME” his thrusts maintained a brutal pace while attacking my cervix.

“F-Fu-Fuckk” I stuttered as my legs began to shake around his torso. “Cl-Close” I choked out.

“No” his voice husked in my ear as his hand made a fist next to my head to support his weight and his harsh movements. “Do you deserve to cum?” he hummed in my ear.

“Y-yes p-lease, Chris” I begged between my moans.

“You Cum with me or not at all got it?” he grunts out sitting up and wrapping his hand around my throat and squeezing the sides just enough to make the pleasure more intensifying.

“Mhm,” I moaned out looking at him and giving him doe-eyes that I knew he couldn't resist.

“Nu-uh, words, understand?” he squeezed my throat a little harder.

“Y-Yes s-Sir” i wept, the pleasure of him repeatedly pounding my cervix and the way his veins popped out of his forearm while wrapped around my throat became almost uncontrollable, the knot in my stomach could burst at any moment now.

He smirked at my response “My greedy girl, just so pitiful, begging for that release,” he grunted “Hold it for a couple of seconds okay, beautiful? Can you do that for me?” he bit his lip removing his hand from my throat to brush the hair on my face away, smiling down at me.

“C-Cant” I shook my head squeezing my eyes shut as tears of overstimulation began forming at the corners of my eyes.

“Yes, you can pretty girl, I'm almost there alright? Just keep squeezing me so good baby” he moves his hand down my body slowly and agonizing down to my clit and toying with it while maintaining his attack on my pussy.

“FUCK” I squeal arching my back off the bed. My moans became whimpers as my makeup began to run from the tears now streaming down my face “C-Cum-Cumming” I let out a scream of pleasure as my orgasm hit me like 14 busses and I squirted all over him and everything else in the way.

“That's it,” he coos “Keep cumming for me, let it all out” he continued as his thrusts became sloppier chasing after his own release. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me baby,” he smiles as his last couple of thrusts in me painted my once pink walls a nice shade of white. He slowly pulls out of me being careful not to hurt me. “Let me clean you up yeah?” his smile made me smile back at him as he left quickly to his bathroom to grab a lukewarm washrag. He slowly drags it down my legs and carefully wipes my cum covered pussy making me wince “I know ma, I know” he coos throwing the rag into the pile of clothes we left on the floor.

“You okay?” he chuckled admiring my fucked-out expression.

“Mhm, I'm good” I smiled moving my body to face his

“I wasn't too rough on you was I?” he smiles moving my hair behind my ears.

“Honestly, you were perfect” I smiled leaning into his touch.

“I'm sorry I got a little possessive, I'm trying to get used to the whole ‘the public relationship’ type thing, I'm still used to keeping you my little secret,” he says softly kissing my forehead and pulling my body closer to his.

A pound at the door quickly broke up this once peaceful pillow talk moment “HEY FREAKS!” Nick yells “SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP” he continued before walking away from the door and slamming his own door.

Chris and I chuckled as I nuzzled my head into his chest. “Do you wanna watch Sponge Bob? Or gossip girl?” he says running his fingers through my hair

“Whatever you want” I smiled before fastly falling asleep wrapped in his arms.

Chris looked at me falling asleep on him smiled down at me shook his head, admiring how peaceful and soundly I slept intertwined with his own body.

A/N PT2: GUYS IDK WHAT HORMONE MONSTER ATTACKED ME BUT LIKE I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!! I love you all and i hope you all have a blessed and amazing day! 🩷

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MISTLETOE TRAP

Prompt 3: mistletoe

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader Summary: after spending so long watching you and Eddie hopelessy flirt with eachother, the club comes up with a plan fit for the festive season to bring you guys together. Warnings: mention of kissing, brief mention of Eddie being in the hospital. one mention of Y/n, I APOLOGISE

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

Christmas music played softly in the background as the club played a festive board game, yelling and screaming over each other filled the room as everyone pointed fingers to who's cheating.

the smell of pizza filled your noses as the fire crackled of Gareth's livingroom.

the lights of the tree twinkling in your eyes as you sat on the couch next to Eddie, everyone else choosing to sit on the dirty carpet. pillows under all their buts to soften the hard wooden floor.

it was perfect, everyone having fun, laughing- more or less when everybody isn't fighting, but despite that, it was perfect.

the club did this every year, but it's the first time Mike, Lucas and Dustin have attended.

and while this was their first time hanging out for Christmas games, this was not their first rodeo when seeing a certain pair of flirty best friends that are way to close to be just friends.

"my hands are a bit cold, mind warming them up for me?" Eddie had smiled, earning many silent groans from the room, from everyone except you, who had blushed and shook your head sheepishly

"I have a feeling you just want an excuse to hold my hand, Eds" you teased

"you caught me. so what do you say?" you nudged you, holding out his hand.

you've always been the flirty type of duo, you and Eddie. you don't know when it happened, it started with little remarks in certain situations that he deemed fit, then you slowly began retaliating, giving small comments back that left poor Eddie flushed in surprise. but the certain situations turned into a weekly thing, then soon every time you'd see each other.

"I say my hands are quite cold too" you rolled your eyes, slapping your hand in his and interlocking fingers

you barely noticed the glared and groans from anyone in the room until they all got up and left, saying they are going to the kitchen for seconds

where they all huddled up, sick of their dungeon master and his best friend acting like a bunch of idiots while flirting with each other.

"I'm sick of this, it's been going on too long" Jeff sighed

"I think it's cute" Dustin shrugged "Eddie deserves love too"

"Really? you think our dungeon master complaining his hands are too cold and that she needs to hold them is cute?" Lucas shook his head, questioning his friend's sanity,

because what you and Eddie have going on, is not cute.

"it's a bit cheesy-" Dustin started before Mike cut him off

"-it's gross!"

"Well, what do we do?" Gareth bit the inside of his cheek

then Dustin had an idea.

a brilliant idea

it was just involve talking to Steve.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

You walked into the Harrington home with Robin.

a little party with Steve's friends that you had been invited to, given that his parents went out of town.

you walked in, surprised to see the whole club sitting on the couch, including Eddie- which was less surprising

you knew Steve and Eddie were mutual friends, or friends, you're still not sure, you've never seen them directly talk after Eddie got permitted out of the hospital.

but the whole club here was definitely not something you would expect. but god you were happy

"we were waiting for you" The Munson boy cheered on your arrival

"don't cream your pants, we were just stuck in traffic" you rolled your eyes, pointing the robin behind you who threw her coat on the coat hanger, literally, letting it fall to the ground

"You do know how to put a coat on a hanger, right?" Steve huffed, picking her jacket up and hanging it on a hook while you settled on the couch, right next to open seat next to the one and only Eddie

the whole club had greeted you with unsettling smiles, Dustin rocking his legs as he sat cross legged on the floor.

their faces made you suspicious, they were always up to no good with those looks on their faces

"what's up with them?" you whispered to Eddie, who shrugged

he picked up a Garfield mug, steam floating up and reaching his nose as he brought it up to his lips. humming at the taste before pulling it away and back onto the coffee table

you giggled, looking away when he turned to you

"what? do I have something on my face?" he smirked, knowing the fluffy whipped cream adorned his top lip

you shook your head as he leaned in

"wanna help me out and get it off?" he raised his eyebrows, nudging your shoulder

it was a sight to barf at to everyone else I the room, but fighting against the sickening interaction, they knew this had to happen, this was all apart of the plan, well not this but this party.

that's actually a lie, Steve had invited everyone over for a little gathering, and by everyone he means his friends, but due to much begging to his favourite child, Steve had let Dustin bring the club too, why? the Harrington boy doesn't know, nor understand but whatever.

you huffed, reaching up and swiping the foam off of his lip, silently gasping when he connected his lips with your thumb, licking it off your finger.

the party's eyes were wide with disgust and shock before Dustin spoke up quickly

"Eddie why don't you get Y/n a cup of hot coco while we explain the rules of the game to her"

Eddie looked over to the freshmen and nodded, getting up

"marshmallows?" he asked before leaving, earning a happy nod from you

"only th-" you started before he cut you off, disappearing down the hall to the kitchen

"-the white ones!"

you blushed and smiled, watching as Steve placed The Christmas game down on the table, Mike eagerly opening it up

"so the rules of the game is-" Dustin began

"I know the rules of the game, Dusty, I've been playing this since before you knew how to walk" you chuckled, shifting on the couch

you leaned over and helped set up for the game, Nancy walking in from upstairs, had being in the bathroom when you had arrived. when you were busy putting the cards down on the board, Gareth had taken the bundle of mistletoe from his bag and tiptoed to the doorway of the hallway, connecting the Livingroom and kitchen, where he peeked over the corner to see Eddie lift up the mug and put marshmallows in.

he came and sat down without you realising he left before he spoke up

"hey...Eddie's been gone for a while, why don't you check on him?" he asked you, nodding his head in the direction to the kitchen

"oh.. uh sure" you frowned, getting up, it's not like Eddie couldn't handle making a cup of hot cocoa, but you walked to the kitchen anyway.

you walked through the open wall and yelped when you bumped into his hard frame, the cup of hot chocolate swished and spilled on his chest, earning a groan from him and a gasp from you

"oh shit, I'm so sorry" you blinked rapidly.

"it's fine, love, not your fault" he smiled tightly, sighing

you went to say something but you heard a few hushed laughs and Lucas coughing

you both looked back to notice their gazes focused above you

you look up and back down, confused before you did a double take and your eyes widened, Eddie looking up right after you, a sigh leaving his lips.

a bundle of green and red hanging above you, tied with a ribbon, a bow, mistletoe.

"oh" you said in unison

Eddie looked back down at you, watching as you stared up

he whispered "we don't have to- it's just a silly tradition"

that made you frown, did he not want to kiss you?

you know you were best friends but you had always hoped for more, not that you weren't happy, but he was just so...him, so perfect in your eyes.

"you have to kiss!" Robin smiled

-she wasn't in in the plan, no one but the party was, Steve knew but he wasn't listening when Dustin was rambling, all Steve remembered was him asking if the club could come, and Steve figured half of them were coming, may as well just give the kid what he wants to shut up.

you look down at Eddie to see his concerned face

or was it sad?

you couldn't make it out, but they held something of that sort

"may as well" you shrugged "you know we'll never hear the end of it from them if we don't"

he licked his lips

Eddie was sweating, everywhere. and not just from the fireplace they were right next to. but because he had thought over your first kiss so many times before.

it was be so perfect, so romantic, gentle but desperate. maybe looking over the town or during a drive in movie he'd take you to.

definitely not in Steve Harrington's Livingroom, and certainly not in front of all of yours and his friends.

he'd want it to be right. not a forced act, but an act of love.

because it's you

his best friend.

his lifelong crush

so to say Eddie Munson was sweating balls in this moment would be an understatement.

in the corner of his eyes he saw everyone looking at you both, expectedly

but his eyes were focused on yours. looking so deep into yours that he felt he was melting away

why was it so hot? apart from the scorching hot cocoa that drenched his band tee.

the way you looked at him, so soft, you were so beautiful, the coloured lights from the massive Harrington Christmas tree illuminating your face perfectly, you always looked beautiful in red.

"I don't want our first kiss to be in front of everyone" he mumbled to you finally. moth slightly agape, eyes wide in despair

you furrowed your brows when you looked over silently, watching as they all looked away

the room was dead quiet, the only noise was the crackle of the fire, so they must have heard Eddie.

so as they all looked out the window, watching the snow fall outside, tiny snowflakes dancing in the wind of the night, you looked back up at Eddie.

you silently parted your lips.

he looked back down at you.

he silently parted his lips.

he brought a hand up, slowly.

you brought a hand up, slowly.

his hand meeting the plush of your cheek.

your hand meeting the skin of his exposed hip.

then you leaned in, slowly.

so slow.

Eddie watched as your eyes fluttered shut as his nosed brushed against yours.

and his own soon shut as his lips met yours, grazing ever so gently before he took a sharp intake of breath before fully connecting them, pressing his lips firmly on yours.

Jesus, how they fit so perfectly, he thought to himself.

God, how they fit so perfectly, you thought to yourself.

your lips moved perfectly in sync, creating the kiss that Eddie had envisioned so many times before. it may have even been better.

his warm hand cupping your cheek, his fingertips rough but oh so gentle.

everyone in the room stayed looking outside awkwardly as they heard nothing, but Dustin, deciding to take a peek, was only able to catch a glimpse of the kiss ending, you both pulling away from each other, smiling softly as your eyes fluttered open

your eyes met again. your smile growing as you saw his blown out gaze, the colour of his eyes barely recognisable through his irises as he looked down at you

"I'll make you another hot chocolate" he said, blinking, in a haze of some sort

"I'll come with you" you replied, matching his tone as you grabbed his hand

everyone watched as you both disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen

"they're going to make out in my kitchen aren't they?" Steve spoke up after a minute, frowning

"leave the kids be, Steve, they've finally found out what horniness feels like" Robin joked, leaning against the back of the couch.

Steve's head whipped around in horror. so many thoughts in the poor head of his. are they gonna have sex in my kitchen?

"don't worry guys, this is just what the mistletoe trap does, it brings people together" Dustin said cluelessly

"that's what this was!?" Steve hissed at him, finally remembering something along the lines of 'bringing a young couple together' and 'mistletoe' that Dustin had said over the phone to him when he was just trying to focus on how to shut him up.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

bonus-

Steve storms into his kitchen, it's been too long since you both went in there and he wasn't ready for a baby to be made in that room.

all he sees is you, pressed against the counter with Eddie holding you, soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as your hands roamed each others body, your mouths locked together as you made out aggressively.

"DISGUSTING!" Steve yelled.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

[letorip]

casual [ii]

"is it casual now? i know what you tell your friends, it's casual, if it's casual now"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you keep telling yourself it's casual, but it still manages to bother you so much when you realise nat is ducking you.

warnings: explicit sexual content, SMUT (nat recieving), drug use, alcohol consumption, mostly set up chapter, 'i love you' but in a sad way :(

word count: 7.7k

A/N: there will ALREADY BE A PART 3 FINALE ON THE WAY. amount of research i did on US schooling, US version of Windolene, and the 1996 US Presidential Election should be criminal.

***also to be clear because i know i was kind of confusing about it last time, Nat’s father is still alive, this is a no crash au, and there’s still about a week left to go to nationals, Lottie’s party is NOT the night before, for the sake of my sanity

===+++===

===+++===

Dinner that night exceeded your expectations by far, or at least in terms of awkwardness. It laced the air in thick wafts that made you shift in your chair from time to time, out of need of something to do.

"So Julie," your mother said. She raised her glass with a distinguished elegance and sipped her wine. "I heard that last year you went to the state science fair." She said it with a glance at you over the lip and dramatic overemphasis, as if she expected you to stand and applaud. “You won first place?”

You took the hint and sent Julie a smile fixed in place, and then one down to her parents at the other end. These sort of set ups went better when you appeared to give them a good try. "Oh really?"

"I did!” The smile she had worn all night widened, veneers a crisp white colour that looked like the blank walls of a dentist’s office. “It was a project on sea turtles. My dad flew us out to Barbados to work with a research team.” If Julie had said any more on her project, you could not hear it.

There was a beautiful oil painting right behind her on the wall, in a thick copper frame that glinted in the dining room light. The portrait had hung there since you were a child, but from that angle it had felt mundane. A random portrait of a random woman your father had bought on a random business trip. Now, it was impossible for you to see the soft, beautiful blues of the woman's eyes and not think of Natalie's.

Perhaps that was karma. The conversation with Nat still hung over your thoughts in an ever-present guilt, and the longer you thought about it, the less you thought you liked yourself. Not that there was much to be done about that, of course.

A silence filled the room and you looked back to Julie, who stared at you with a blank expression. You glanced around the table, only to find everyone else’s eyes on you too. Shit.

“Sorry, what was the question?” you flushed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lottie stifle a laugh, and your father’s gaze down at the other end. His disapproval was thick in his eyebrows, and you rubbed the back of your neck, sheepish.

Julie continued to beam at you, and you shifted in your seat. “I was wondering if you also liked science.”

“Oh. I don’t really love—,” before you could finish, your mom took it away, interrupting and reaching over the table to clasp Julie’s hand in her own.

“Of course! (Y/n) here is the president of Science Honours Society at Wiskayok. Don’t let the bruises fool you, (Y/n) is a giant studier and scholar.” Ah, the bruises.

Your mom had freaked the hell out when she saw you, just as you knew she would. Her immediate reaction had been to cover them with concealer, and then she had almost cried when you could still see the purple and red skin underneath.

“(Y/n)’s also a giant nerd,” Bobby said. “Know-it-all, more like,” he corrected with a laugh, leaning towards her as if trying to steal the show. You wouldn’t have stopped him, if he was. He had mentioned finding her pretty, not that she seemed to be interested in him. Your other cousin, Trent, knocked him on the side of the head, before he went back to his food.

“Robert,” your father chided, before turning to Julie and her parents himself. “(Y/n) here will be Valedictorian, at the end of the year. Academics are important to us, and I assure you, science is part of that.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mrs. Roosevelt said. “Do you know where you’re going to college yet?”

You shrugged, eyes on your plate. “Either Brown or Princeton.”

Your mom clasped her hands together, excited. “Mr. (L/n) and his mother and father, and his mother and father before him and so on, all went to and fell in love at Princeton. We donate money every year. And then, well, there’s Brown or Columbia, as options.”

“I was considering Princeton, too,” Julie said. “Of course, we have ties to Harvard as a family, but Princeton always piqued my interest.” At that, you hid what would’ve been a snort behind a cheeky smile. Nat’s ‘fuckin’ rich people,’ played back in your mind in a memory of the warm afternoon you had just spent in her bed. “We could meet at Princeton, right? Like your grandparents?”

You blinked, unable to compute the rather forward question into your brain along with the warmth you could feel spread out on your cheeks. Lottie watched you again, fork half in her mouth, amused and entertained beyond belief. But Julie Roosevelt, as nice as she was, wouldn’t be the one for you.

You cleared your throat, mustering an apologetic smile. “Um…yeah, it would be great to have other friends there.”

“Right…friends," said Julie, staring at you blankly. You didn’t need to look at her, to feel your mother’s disappointment. Bobby and Trent were staring, too. Lottie had her eyes on her food.

"So, did anyone ask Reginald what dessert tonight will be?" your father asked. He didn't look in your direction. You were grateful for it. He was usually the one to bridge the gap, and you had missed him when he was in Tokyo.

"I do believe he said it would be cheesecake," your mother replied. She turned her fork over in her salad, considerably less vibrant than before.

Trent nodded, sipping his water. "That'll be good." He turned to your father with a chuckle. "Did you hear that Buchanan's stepped down from the bid for president?" At that point you let the conversation go on around you, but were all too content to sit back and just observe.

===+++===

"(Y/N)!" a faint voice came into your bathroom. You blinked.

“Yeah?” But there was no reply. At least, not for a minute.

"(Y/N), GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"

You paused in front of the bathroom mirror. The toothbrush still hung from your mouth, and you furrowed your eyebrows, painfully so with the bruise on your eye, questioning if what you were hearing was real. It was all too early in the morning, for you to be running late.

"(Y/N), I'M NOT KIDDING AROUND, DAMMIT!" Your father yelled, and now you were sure you were awake. You furrowed your eyebrows at the anger in his voice and plugged your electric toothbrush into its holder, before sliding on your slippers and opening your door.

There was a whole bunch of commotion going on in the foyer below, and while your mom had held her tongue about Julie the night before, it didn't make sense for your father to be this angry you had turned her down, right? You ran your hand through your bedhead, in an halfhearted attempt to first xit as you still groggily came down the long set of stairs.

"What?" you asked. Your dad had his back to you, talking with Reginald, and Maribel was crying in the corner with a bottle of windex in her hands, but he spun around the moment he heard your voice.

"Don't 'what' me. Go look outside. Right now." His face was all red when he said it, like a scary tomato, and it somewhat snapped you out of your sleepy daze.

The front door was wide open, and there was a gardener who wasn't usually there until later, walking right on in with a wad of toilet paper in his hand. You blinked, then half-stumbled through your door and out onto the driveway.

Fucking hell.

Even from far away, you could smell the rotted eggs, splattered onto the windows of your house and dripping down the sides in clumps. They were everywhere, coating parts of your driveway and sitting in hedges. What was the worst was the white Rolls Royce your father had just bought, which had egg yolks covering the windshield and all along the fresh paint job from where it sat under the awning. Behind it, right on the garage door in spray-painted red letters was 'fuck you.'

Where there weren't eggs, there were reams and reams of toilet paper, strung from the red oaks and trimmed hedges. One or two rolls had unfurled down the length of your driveway entirely, reaching all the way to the end like some sort of demented breadcrumb trail for Reginald, who had apparently discovered the mess when he pulled into work and up the drive that morning.

Your father followed you out, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Do you, at all, happen to know why my lawn looks like this?" he demanded.

You swallowed. "No, I'm sorry.”

“You’re sorry? What the hell am I going to do with sorry?”

“It must just be someone from the high school pranking me." It wasn't. It didn't take a genius to make a guess, though. Nat had been pissed, but you didn’t think it would be this pissed.

"Well, whoever it was had access to our neighbourhood gate, (Y/n).” Your father pointed an angry finger at you, poking you harshly in the chest. “You didn't give the code to anyone, did you? We told you not to, unless it was approved by me or your mother."

You stared down at the ground. You were still in your slippers and silk pyjamas. "No, I promise dad, I didn't. I don't know how they got in."

His gaze was still heavy for a moment, eyes and eyebrows thick and heavy, as he scanned your face for the traces of a lie. He didn't find one, and when he didn't, he turned to Reginald, who stood in the doorway behind him, with a sigh.

"Can you pull the old Jaguar from the motor court? We'll need this cleaned up by the time I'm back for work."

Reginald nodded. "Right away, sir."

"Good," he said, and then he turned to you. "And you. I'll be changing our gate code as soon as possible. No giving it out. Your friends are lucky nothing was damaged— we'll sue no question."

"Yes sir," you said, keeping your eyes down.

"Good. Go get ready for school. Don't mention this to anyone."

"Yes sir." You couldn't get back inside fast enough, practically jogging in your slippers and up the stairs. You got about halfway up, before your mother called out to you.

"(Y/n), is that you?"

You froze, considering for a moment just going up like you hadn't heard her. You didn't get the chance though.

"Come down here."

"Yes mother." You turned back around, heading down to where she sat in the formal living room. It was closest to the door, and she must've been watching through the front window. In her left hand was a familiar bottle of wine, and she reeked of its contents. She didn't look too pleased, but with her it was more of a morning thing than the egging.

"Are you going to say good morning to me, darling?"

You nodded. "Sorry. Good morning, mother."

"There you go. Your eye still looks dreadful." Ah, the bruises.

Your mom lost her ever-loving mind when she saw you, just as you knew she would. Her immediate reaction had been to cover them with concealer, and then she had almost cried when you could still see the purple and red skin underneath and the Roosevelts would be arriving any minute.

It was a bit funny that your bloody nose was still visible, in a morbid way, but you knew better than to laugh about it in front of her, and moving your face still hurt in places. Lottie— who watched from atop the bathroom counter— laughed for the both of you instead, which earned her a shriek from your mother.

"It's going to, for the next few weeks. That's what Misty said."

She huffed. "Well, Julie was a disappointment, and we need you to get back out there, if you're going to have a date for prom. Your father and I can't have you going alone."

"I might not be going to prom," you replied, messing with the collar of your pyjama shirt. "The Yellowjackets might be going to nationals, remember? I have to go."

"Yes, well, at least get a date just in case. Everyone else in the neighbourhood will, and we can’t have you alone.”

“Lottie would also be alone.”

“Well I’m not Lottie’s parents now am I?”

“No.”

“Right, I’m not. Now, don’t cut my head off for this, but are you sure you like girls?" You glared and she waved you off. "Don't look at me like that, I just mean you're not having very much success with girls, is all. It's 1996, your father and I are very forward-thinking.”

It took all your energy not to laugh. If they wanted to believe they were forward thinking, you'd let them. The same could be said for success with girls. Instead, you shrugged. "All the girls you've picked are just so boring. There isn't a spark."

Your mother rolled her eyes. "There doesn't always have to be one. For me and your father, there wasn't. We met and then slowly worked towards a love. That instant-love stuff is for children who've seen too many Disney movies, and those soppy Democrats."

"Maybe spark was the wrong word, mother— I don't even feel a connection. They’re super ‘meh’ and stuff."

"Don’t say ‘and stuff’ you make yourself sound stupid. These girls are all from great families, (Y/n). I'm sure there are kids at your school who would love a chance to talk to Julie, or Margot or Sloane— god Sloane is in high demand. I think it's the cheerleading."

“Mother.”

“Yes— sorry. Go fix your hair, you look unkempt. And think about it. Julie wasn’t too bad, she made that joke about forks. Funny.” It hadn’t been.

“Yes mother,” you said, and you stalked away and back up the stairs without another word. You were already running late, with the whole egg thing, and you needed to figure out what you would do with your face the way it was.

===+++===

“Can we stop for coffee?” Lottie groaned, tapping her fingers along the sill of your passenger side window. “‘s so fucking early.” She was splayed out in the seat, with a backup blanket you kept in the second row thrown over her legs and cuddling up to her backpack. You scoffed, fingers on the wheel with an extra tightness.

“Hell no. We’re going to be late for the meeting.” But she just groaned again.

“I didn’t even want to be part of it. You were the jerk who made me.”

“You’re literally the treasurer. You’re on the club board.”

“And? I’m shit at french.”

“You’re shit at a lot of things.”

“And you’re shit at catching a ball with anything but your face,” she giggled.

There didn’t end up being anything you could do. Going to bed had only made the bruising worse, and your nose was a bright red while your eye sat at a deep, unnatural black colour with touches of purple on the outside. You were sure to get odd looks by anyone you passed, but you decided to just get it over with and wear it out.

At the light you turned, driving down the familiar street that led to WHS, and as soon as the coffee shop was in sight, Lottie smacked her hand onto the glass, dragging her fingers down and leaving prints.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, frowning. Lottie whipped around in her seat.

“Are you finally going to say what happened with Nat yesterday?”

You rolled your eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

She laughed. "I mean, I was going to, in the car ride home. You just didn't say a whole word the entire drive. It was freaking me out, actually. I thought you were either brain dead from Carter’s throw-in or didn’t want to talk about it.”

"Sorry," you mumbled. Lottie shook her head.

"It's fine. I'd probably stop talking for a bit too, if I found out Jackie was right about something."

"It was reality breaking," you nodded with a smile. It took until you both stopped at the light for you to muster the ability to speak again. "Nat’s upset about me potentially seeing other girls.”

"That's what I figured," said Lottie. "Soooo…what now?"

“It gets worse,” you said, shaking your head.

“Delightful.”

“I think she egged my house.”

Lottie laughed for a moment in a giant burst, but she stopped when you just held your stare on the road ahead. “Wait— are you serious???”

You nodded. “There were eggs and toilet paper everywhere. My dad was pissed.”

“Nat wouldn’t do that, though. She’s not that kind of person,” she said, shaking her head.

“Who else would it be, Lottie? She wrote a giant ‘fuck you’ on my house. She’s the only one I gave my code to.”

Lottie furrowed her eyebrows. “Why’d you give her your code?”

“…My parents and Reginald were out of town in August. So…”

“Ew,” she scrunched her nose. “Got it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll bet she’s on your dad’s shit list now.”

You frowned, remembering just how smooth her skin was against you. How she cradled your face in her hands like it was her whole world. “I didn’t tell him it was her.”

She stared at you for a moment, as if you had missed something spelt out in a bright neon sign that floated just above your head in a way you could never read it. Lottie shrugged, turning back to look out the window. “What are you going to say to her? I mean, it’s clear she wants your full attention.”

"Or that it’s over. She told me to ‘go to hell,’ Lot.”

“It’s because she cares about you. Like, a lot.” She gave you a more annoyed look, this time.

"What's the face for?" you whined.

"If Nat’s gonna be super mad at you, practice'll be awkward as hell."

"Probably," you said. "Nat asked me to go with her to your party. So, that too."

She sighed. “You just had to screw a Yellowjacket, huh?”

“Hey! I didn’t mean to.”

“It was an accident?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“No!— ugh, you know what I mean…”

“I know.” Lottie crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in the car seat. "Maybe you could explain to her? Why it wouldn't work, and all?"

"Yeah," you huffed. "I'll just tell her she's considered trailer trash, and that my uppity parents want Miss Americana, who works in foreign countries with research teams for the science fair, and is at least four tax brackets above her. That'll go over great."

"Well don't say that," she rolled her eyes. Lottie thought for a moment. "…Do you at least like Nat, though?"

You frowned. "Would it even matter if I did?"

"Maybe," said Lottie. "Maybe it would matter." You pulled your car into your parking space, then pulled your key from the ignition. WHS always looked the same. Even in old photos your parents had shown, it had the same red brick and towering trees.

"Maybe I'll try to pull her aside…" you trailed off.

"That's probably a good idea," she nodded.

“Nat said Carter got detention?” You asked it as you grabbed your backpack from the backseat, tugging it over your shoulders while Lottie did the same.

“Yeah. Suspended from the team too,” she said, and you locked your car behind you both, as you headed through the old doors. French classrooms were on the opposite side of campus, down an older hallway that had yet to be renovated. Despite having two French teachers and a whole honours club, no one knew how to speak it.

The meeting had already started by the time you both slipped in, and Lottie awkwardly snuck along the wall to get up to the front where the leadership board was standing, who were less than pleased to see her late. Jackie waved you over to a seat in the back, and Jeff sat a few roads in front with his friends. Anyone who saw you stared for a second.

“Morning,” you mumbled, sliding into your seat.

“Morning,” she whispered back. “Your face looks terrible.”

“No, really?” you snorted. “I didn’t notice.”

“Stop talking!” came a voice from the front, and you could see Sloane glaring daggers at you from the front. She was the president of the club and she hadn’t liked you much since she dedicated a whole day to a date with you and you promptly refused a second.

“Sorry,” Jackie said, raising her hand to take the blame. Sloane shook her head, but went back to reading off of her notes. The moment her head was turned, Jackie leaned back over to you. “Boy, she needs the stick pulled out from her ass, huh?”

“It’s just ‘cause she’s French,” you whispered back to her with a grin.

“Yeah, well, she’s the only one. Besides, we all know it’s because Mr. Allard watches when she bends over.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh at the thought of the creepy old guy. Jackie nudged you in the shoulder. "Why was Nat pissed off yesterday, for the last bit of practice?"

You blinked. "What?"

"She came out all upset, like she was about to cry and stuff. Did you break her heart or something?"

"I don't know," you said with a frown. "I have no idea what we are at this point. I mean, I thought we were friends—"

Jackie scoffed. "Yeah right. You guys were friends, fucking in the back of your car. Real good friends, there."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying. You definitely let her run wild with her fantasies of you."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Maybe if you're Nat. A kid who's top of the class, hot, prom court, varsity, and not a complete asshole? You're like Prince Charming. Or Mother Theresa.”

"You're kidding, right?"

"What, do you have the emotional depth of a kiddie pool? No!"

“Jackie! Stop talking!”

“Yup! Sorry.”

===+++===

Nat didn't show up to school, that day. You knew because you waited for her, right at the door to the cafeteria, down the same hall she always came through. She wasn't there. You waited for her after what would've been her Biology class, leaning on the wall and watching everyone but her file out when the bell rang. She wasn't there either.

You even waited at the back of the school, after the final bell, to see if she would appear, but all you got were weird looks from kids in band tees and a whole waft of what smelled like weed. Nat smelled like that sometimes, but she tried to cover it with perfume. You could still smell it on her, but it blended with the smell to be uniquely Nat. As silly as that was, you liked that you knew that.

From the far wall, you could see Kevyn watching you, surrounded by kids you had seen Natalie with. You didn’t know Kevyn too well, only in passing mention from Nat, or in a story. He was the reason you two couldn’t meet up sometimes, though you tried not to hold that against him.

It wasn’t a thought you were very proud of, but your fingers tightened on the straps of your leather backpack with gold plating. Any one of your friends would laugh at you for being back here, and you stood out like a white sheep in a field of sheep in black leather jackets. You didn’t know any of these kids, but you could tell they knew of you, from the glances and whispers.

It seemed Kevyn couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. He stepped forward and at least attempted to shove his hands into his jean pockets, but they seemed a bit tight on him and he gave up. “The hell are you doing out here?” he grumbled out.

“Have you seen Nat?” you asked with an awkward smile.

Kevyn’s glare sharpened. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Nice face, by the way.” So she had told him. You winced.

“Look, I really need to speak with her. It’s super important and—”

“—I don’t think you heard me. She doesn’t want to speak to you,” said Kevyn, interrupting and crossing his arms over his chest. You frowned.

“Kevyn, please…”

“I'm not telling you, country club.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kevyn took another step forward with a challenge. “It’s what you are, isn’t it?” You could feel even more eyes on the both of you.

“I just need to find her.” It was embarrassing, how your voice shook as you said it, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“But you hurt her.”

You looked down. Air did not want to come easy. “I know. I know I did.”

Kevyn stayed silent for a while. It was the both of you just standing there while he seemed to mull over his options. He sighed. “She’s not here today. Didn’t want to come. She’ll be back tomorrow for practice.”

You nodded, raising your hands in appreciation. “Okay, thank you,” you rushed it out, getting ready to jet. The stoners still made you a bit uneasy. But before you could go he spoke up again.

“Nat’s not as tough as she acts, you know.”

You stopped, turning back to him. “What?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you. It was almost like bragging. She’s— she was actually proud of something hers, for once.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your mother would be clutching the pearls of her necklace right now, if she saw where you were. She just might’ve died, the moment she smelled the weed.

Kevyn shook his head. “Don’t hurt her again. I fuckin’ mean it.”

You swallowed, managing to fix a smile to your face. It felt very hot out, then, and you turned around to leave this time. No one stopped you, but there were kids that watched you go.

The way he said it made you feel slimy. This would not be the triumphant lovers coming back together to be as one forever. That stuff was for kids who saw too many Disney movies. Maybe, though, she would let you sit skin to skin again in the warm, even if only for a little while. And that was perfectly normal for being casual, right?

===+++===

The sun was practically beating down on you, absolutely covered in sweat within the first ten minutes of being outside. You had gone to practice early, patiently waiting by the bench and doing up your cleats. It still felt weird. Since you and Nat had started the whole arrangement, you hadn’t gone a single day without hearing from the other. It set you on edge.

By the time the rest of the two teams had filed out onto the pitch, you already were kicking the ball around with Daniel DuPont. He always played with a smile, like Laura Lee, and you wished sometimes that you did too. A kick from you sent the ball towards him, and he booted it back so you caught it with your chest.

Your eye was doing better than the day before, but still looked violet and red, and your nose was still swollen, but you would’ve had to pry soccer practice from your cold, dead hands. On Friday afternoons your mother had her wine-tasting friends over and it was impossible to be less of a fan of the event than you were.

With the ball still bouncing on the grass, you kicked it towards Daniel, and he headed it back to you. "Here," he called it. You appreciated him being extra cautious with your eye injury, but he was playing as if you were a fragile package wrapped in bubble wrap, that needed coddling. You caught the ball with your chest, letting it drop to the ground.

"Pass!" Shauna called from the other side of the field, and you booted it in her direction, waving to everyone out there that you were off to talk to people. You took a singular step towards the benches when you saw her.

Nat stood with her back to you, fiddling with the plastic lid of her cup as if it was broken. Her hair looked especially bright in the sun, like it had in her room, or when you both went to the lake. Casual arrangements went to the lake, right?

You so badly wanted to go up to her and say something. Anything, really. But your feet were rooted to the ground and you were stuck watching her get ready. When she turned around, you weren't sure if it was better or worse than when she hadn't seen you. It was a hard stare to match, when she saw you and your eyes locked, even if it only lasted for a moment. They flew to your bruise right after, and then away. She was looking right through you with practiced indifference.

"Circle up!" Coach Martinez yelled to you all, walking right on the pitch and towards the centre. "Come on , we don't have all day!" Both teams slowly made their way over, but when enough had pooled around Coach Martinez and Coach Scott, Martinez pulled up his clipboard. "We're going to do some stretches, so just kind of space out."

===+++===

You didn't say anything to Nat the entirety of practice, but it was painfully obvious that you wanted to. You knew she could see you, staring at her and spacing out as you struggled to form the words you wanted to say to her. But she made no attempt to actually let you talk to her.

When you were on the drive home, Lottie nudged your arm. “So…Nat.”

“Yeah. Nat.” Your fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “What time are you coming over for the party?”

You shrugged. “No clue, to be honest. It depends when Jackie and Jeff plan on showing up.”

Lottie groaned. “Are they going to be annoying and have a whole drunk argument again?”

“See, that’s while I’ll probably ditch them for you and Shauna,” you laughed. “Last time they tried to get me involved on ‘who was smarter.’”

“But they’re both idiots.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

You dropped Lottie off at her house and then made the small drive up to yours. It was close enough of a distance where you two were technically neighbours, but not anywhere close to one that you’d willingly walk.

The moment you got home, you parked your car under the awning and hopped out, grabbing your backpack and your duffel bag and heading inside.

“Helllooo?” you called, up from the foyer and then making a beeline from the stairs. You had to get clean and dressed for Lottie’s party, and it didn’t help that you smelled from practice and were covered in sweat. Your father had flipped out when he had seen you first sweating on the leather of your car seat, but he had given up on convincing you to put a towel down first.

When you got to the top of the stairs, a voice called back out to you. “Hello, (Y/n).”

You leaned on the bannister, and Reginald appeared at the bottom with a smile. “Hey, Reggie.”

“Your parents are going out of town tonight. I think they aim to be back on Wednesday.” You raised your eyebrows.

“Since when?” you asked. It wasn’t unusual or anything, these trips were how they stayed married. If anything, it filled you with a rush.

“Since around 4. They’ll be in Monaco tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “I’m going to a party tonight. Lottie’s.”

“You know I don’t mind,” Reginald said, tipping an imaginary hat and heading back towards the kitchen. “Just make sure you shower. You smell awful.”

“Thanks, Reggie.”

“Mhm.”

It took you about an hour to get ready, in a brand new outfit you had picked up with Lottie the weekend before. You stood by the armoire, sliding your rings onto your fingers and spritzing yourself, when your phone started vibrating in your pocket. You pulled your Motorola from your pocket, flipping it open with a groan when you saw the caller I.D. and realising what this was before you even needed to hear it.

“Yeah?”

“(Y/n),” Jackie said into the phone with the buzz of excitement in her voice. “Could you come and pick me and Jeff up for the party? I’d appreciate it, hubby.”

You laughed. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m literally next to Lottie’s house, that’s a whole bunch of driving I don’t want to do.”

“But Jeff loves your car,” she replied in a sing-song voice. “It’d make his day.”

“Nope,” you said, with a fond eye roll. “I have to help Lottie set up. I promised.”

“Terrible friend, then,” she joked. You shook your head.

“Mhm. See you when you get there, sweetie.”

“You too, hubby.”

===+++===

The party was all too much, for your liking. Rap blasted from Lottie’s speakers all across her backyard. A small fire you had started sat in the centre of it, with people standing around and drinking nearby.

On a truck someone had pulled back there, you could see Shauna leaning back against it in her jacket, and she sent you a quick wave. You wandered over, knocking your solo cups together and leaning with her.

“Not having fun?” you asked with a laugh.

“It’s definitely a party,” she replied, slinging a friendly arm around your shoulders. “Where’s Lottie?”

“This couple was having a giant fight in her kitchen, she’s calling them a ride.”

“Hm,” she hummed, looking out over the bonfire. “What about Jackie?”

“Her and Jeff ran off. I don’t even know where.” Shauna frowned. “Where’s Nat?” you asked, sending her a hopeful glance.

Shauna gave you a look. “You two are still on the outs, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Well,” she said. You followed her gaze towards the other end of the fire, against a pine tree where an old, marble bench sat. It was somewhat obscured by passing people, but you saw through a gap in the crowd and your heart dropped out of your chest.

Nat was there, in a red plaid dress that hugged her body. Thrown over it was her leather jacket that she always wore. She looked beautiful. The way you had seen her in your dreams the night before. Until you saw that next to her was Bobby Farleigh, that was.

They were talking, leaned in together with alcohol in hand, and laughing. She had asked, when you started sleeping together, who else you had been with. You vividly remembered Bobby Farleigh being on the list, when you asked her the same question. He was a creep, and it made you sick just as it made you sick now. You stood up straighter.

“Yeah,” Shauna said. “Sorry.” You shook your head. Jealousy pooled in the pit of your stomach, but was normal for being ‘casual,’ right? Either way you didn’t like it. It was like a switch flipped in you. It didn’t matter how many people saw you or if they knew your parents. You couldn’t handle this.

“See you, Shauna,” you called back over your shoulder. You stormed towards the two of them on the bench with a glare, and you saw Nat look up at you coming over, watching you intently.

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?” She said. It was loud, and with it came the turning of heads. Next to her Bobby Farleigh hopped up to his feet.

“The fuck are you doing?” it came out harsher than you expected it to, deep from within, and you put your hands on your hips.

“Why the hell do you care, all of a sudden?” She challenged back as she too got to her feet. “I find that really, really funny.”

“We’re not talking about this here,” you said. “Come on.” You grabbed her arm, pulling her along with you.

“As if I’d go anywhere with you,” Nat scoffed, but she didn’t pull her hand from your grasp. She let you lead the way, up through the house. People parted like Moses and the Red Sea, watching you go, and though you knew there would probably be gossip about this on Monday, you were past caring.

You wandered into one of Lottie’s guest bedrooms, slamming the door behind you. You spun to Nat.

“What, do you need me to get you off again?” She asked, tone dripping with anger. “Did you pull me in here because you were bored?”

You had to ignore the question. “The fuck were you doing with Bobby Farleigh?”

“See and I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Nat spat back at you. You scowled.

“Why the hell were you going to do that with him. He’s a bully and a creep,” you shot, crossing your arms.

“Y’know what, I don’t have to say anything to you. You made it perfectly fucking clear, we don’t owe each other anything.”

“It’s not even about me!”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh it’s not, huh? No, you don’t have a problem with it being Bobby Farleigh— you could give a fuck about Bobby!” She was yelling now. “You give a shit because it’s not you, and you’re a jealous asshole.”

“So what if I am?!” You yelled back.

“Then I’d say you have no fucking right to be! You do NOT for one god damn second get to be mad I’m sleeping with other people when I hear you’re playing The Newlywed Game with rich chicks.” You didn’t know what to say to that and Nat took it in stride.

“You can do a lot of fucking things, you rich, entitled asshole,” she continued. “But you can’t pretend for shit that we were just fucking around.” You clenched your jaw. “And to think,” she scoffed and you could see the edges of her eyes water, “that I used to think you were safe and good. Now I see you for what you really are— a fucking child with a silver spoon.”

In your arguing, you both had moved closer together, faces inches apart. Her lips looked so soft in the dim lighting of the bedside lamps. You swallowed. She was so close, and there was again that scent of perfume and weed. But Nat backed up, storming past you and heading for the door.

You didn’t know who closed the distance first, but your hand was on her arm, tugging her back against you, and then your lips were against hers. Her taste was so sweet, the same lip balm as always. Cherries.

You pulled her tight against you, feeling her hands go up to your hair, weaving in. You pulled away for a breath for a moment and then immediately kissed her again, this one more needy and ferocious than before you. She tugged at your scalp and your hands flew to her thighs, pulling her up against you and holding tight.

Everything felt so damn humid in there, and you slowly backed Nat onto the bed, pushing her down and crawling on top of her. You leaned down to reconnect your lips and then immediately went south, moving her blonde hair away gently with your fingers and then covering her neck in soft kisses while you tugged her dress down.

Nat let out a heady breath. “(Y/n),” she said in a huff. Your hands grabbed hers, interlocking the fingers and moving them above her head while your mouth did the work for you, sucking on a spot right under her jaw and then slowly down her neck to the exposed area that only her hair could cover from her father.

Nat’s skin was always a cool pale colour, and you pulled away briefly to see the bruises already forming along her neck. You weren’t exactly being soft, but you knew Nat could take it, and that she wanted it. She was staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes, and you silently tugged off your shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Her hands went to your pants, tugging them down, and you moved to get them out from under your legs before discarding them too. She went for your underwear next, watching you with her blue eyes as she moved, but you stopped her, catching her by the wrist and lifting it up to place a slow, gentle kiss on her open palm. You just wanted it to be Nat beneath you.

You slowly dragged your mouth up her arm while you held her gaze, leaving a trail of where it had been. Your other arm came up to cup her breast through her bra, and she let out a full on moan, face flushing pink.

You moved away from her arm and to her chest instead, nipping at her collarbone and sucking on the skin there. Her hands came up to cup your head, fingers weaving in the hair at your nape and brushing some back from your forehead as she let out another shaky breath. Your mouth trailed lower and lower, and Nat threw her head back as you continued to palm at her breasts through the fabric, her hand leaving your hair and scraping down your back with her nails. It hurt, sure, but not in a bad way. In a way that made you want her even more.

“Can I?” you asked, as she writhed beneath you. Your knee went to the space between her legs, feeling her wet, dripping centre on the outside of her underwear. She rubbed down on it, trying to relieve some of the friction and cried out.

“Need— need,” she struggled to focus with your hand on her breast and hot breath on her neck. “Need you,” she whimpered. Nat usually put up more of a struggle for dominance, and fucking was typically far more playful than the pure desire her face expressed. You didn't need to be told twice, taking your fingers and skirting the waistband to dip even lower. When you felt how soaked she was you sucked in a breath.

You pulled her underwear down in a single fluid motion, thumb swiping right over her clit. Nat shook against you with a moan, hand wrapping around your shoulder to hold you close and keep her stable. You started slowly, gently inserting your middle finger into her entrance, and Nat shuddered, leaning into you and holding you tight.

It was an awkward angle, but you never would've told her to move or let you go. It was the warmth you had been missing, and you watched her face scrunch as you slowly began to move your finger. Nat let out a breathy moan, nails digging into your shoulder, and you took the subtle note, adding a second finger.

She's ground down into your hand, clasping your wrist in encouragement, and soon you were moving quicker inside her entrance. Her legs shook with your movement, head thrown back and no longer able to look at you anymore as you fucked her down to your knuckles. You'd done this before, but you had a fire in your belly.

When her grip on your shoulders faltered and her hands fell to grip at the sheets, you took your other hand and gently rub it on her clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves in a way that has her loud. She sucks in breaths and moans, throwing back her head, and you listen to them with a smirk at how quickly she seems to be approaching release.

Your fingers pumped deep inside of her and she shook, and then she said your name. "(Y/n)," she breathed out.

"Hm?" you asked, adding extra pressure on her clit. She let out a gasp.

"I love you," she said, and though it caught you off guard, you did not slow down. She had said it before while fucking and so had you. "I love you," she repeated, and you could feel her body tensing.

"Uh...I love you," you said it back, continuing to fuck her with your fingers.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, Nat," you whispered.

"I love you!" she gasped again, and this time, you felt her body tense completely. Cum leaked out onto your fingers, coating them in her slick while she shook. You slow down your pace, watching her with more awe than you'd like to admit. She just looked so beautiful, splayed out like that and still gently shaking from time to time while she regained herself.

When you gently pulled your fingers from her centre, she shakes and whimpers with the lost sensation. You put your fingers to your lips and into your mouth. Nat tasted just as sweet as before, and your gaze softened at the girl in front of you just as her chest slows its heaving.

"Are you alive?" you asked, sitting up and grabbing your shirt from of the floor to tug it over your chest. She nods slowly, then opens her glossy, blown-out eyes. She's not awake for long, and it only takes a few minutes for her to be out like a light. She's still shaky and weak, but she sends you a smile before she falls asleep.

You don't know why you do it, but you gently lift her up and under the sheets of the bed, pulling the duvet over her. You'd probably have to reimburse Lottie for the dry cleaning. You don't know why you do it either, but after heading towards the door with a pile of clothes in hand, you decide to stay. You clamber into the sheets alongside her, resting your head on the pillow and watching her softly sleep until you fall asleep on your own.

You can't place exactly why it hurts you so much, when you wake up the next morning and realise Nat's no longer there.

THERE WILL BE A PART 3 COMING I PROMISE BUT THIS WAS SO LONG ALREADY. ANYWAYS, FINALE NEXT TIMEEEEEE

[animeyanderelover]

Characters of your choice from JJK with a darling who has a tattoo of their ex please

Holidays, everyone! I finally have my holidays! I changed it slightly so that the darling has a tattoo of the name of their ex.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, clinginess, manipulation, controlling behavior, forceful behavior, death

S/o has a tattoo of the name of their ex

Fushiguro Megumi

💙You have never told him of your tattoo before, aware how paranoid Megumi tends to be. Perhaps that would have been the wiser choice yet instead he discovers the name engraved on your skin himself as you fail to cover the name on your shoulder in time as he accidentally walks in on you changing. Thick silence befalls the room as he just stands there, frozen as his eyes are glued to the black kanji signs on your skin. His mind repeats the name over and over again until he suddenly remembers where he has heard it before. His heart drops, a lumb of fear and insecurities forms at the back of his throat and his eyes widen frantically. You try to come up with something, anything to explain this to him yet he is faster. Suddenly he stands in front of you, arms seizing your shoulders as he asks you with a slightly raised voice why you never told him that you had a tattoo of your ex. Why?? Why would you do that?? Were...were they that important to you? What about him then?

💙He can't bear to look at you the same way as before after that for quite some while, not without imagining the name of your ex tattooed on your shoulder. It's like a marking that spells out that you once loved someone else and whenever he actually sees your tattoo, he feels something clenching deep inside his chest. His insecurities and paranoia increase as he starts wondering if you still harbor feelings for your ex. Going as far as carrying a tattoo of their name around is a pretty big sign of devotion after all. You find yourself having a harder time to calm him down, the tattoo on your shoulder triggering him whenever he catches a glimpse of it. It haunts him, torments him a bit and he has wondered a couple of times already if he has to threaten your ex as paranoia poisons his ability to think rationally and instead whispers into his mind that you might return to your ex. He knows that it isn't good for his sanity which is why at some point he begs you to remove it somehow. Please, it torments him.

Zenin Maki

💚​Maki has known about your tattoo for a longer while now, it's hard to hide something written on your wrist with black and permanent ink after all. She already questioned this decision of yours back then quite a bit because it's quite risky to get a tattoo of the name of your ex without any guarantee that they'll stay. All you could do back then was to give her a pitiful laugh as you couldn't help but agree with her. Back then this was still fine though but now it is a different story as she's grown rather possessive over you. The tattoo is an eyesore for her whenever she sees it and due to the visible spot you chose, she sees it multiple times a day. She lets out a scoff whenever her eyes find the kanji signs and her mood is almost always worsening a tad bit whenever she spots the name of your former lover. At least she is reasonable enough to understand that both of you have broken it up for good so she isn't as wavering and paranoid as Megumi. She knows that you don't have any feelings for them anymore.

💚​That doesn't mean that she hasn't completely forgiven you for your stupidity to get a tattoo in the first place. In fact she is scolding you more nowadays for your decision than before. Maki knows that you regret that mistake yourself but she can't help it sometimes, she is a bit mad and tends to express that with not so kind words. At the very least she notices that her words only cause you to feel worse so she tries to comfort you as good as she can everytime her tongue slips and she accidentally cuts you with her words. She makes it very clear to you though that she greatly dislikes that you have the name of someone else decorating your body whilst you're together with her and you can't even blame her for it. She would appreciate for you to somehow get rid of this tattoo and sometimes you have the feeling that her wish sounds more like a demand.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​It's perhaps not the best idea to let Gojo ever find out about your tattoo but how is that even supposed to work? The man is so terribly clingy and intrusive and despite his goofy facade, you have a feeling that he might react very badly to the sight of your tattoo. You try to figure out a way how to tell him as harmlessly as possible but you can't come up with anything. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference in the first place. That's at least what you think as you try to wiggle free from his unusually tight grip, one of his hands lifting up your shirt as dull blue eyes stare at the name written slightly above your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat when those same blue eyes finally meet your own and you feel like you could drown within the abyss of the darkness swirling behind those beautiful orbs. A forced smile stretches his face as he asks you why you have someone's name tattooed on your body. Especially that of your ex.

🩵​You have a hard time convincing him not to go after your ex as your gut screams at you that something terribly will happen otherwise. You beg him to have mercy since both of you have ended the relationship years ago and you don't even have any contact with them anymore. You swallow heavily when his heavy and colder gaze rests on you yet still plead him to not do anything to them as you promise to do whatever he wants. Your wish is somewhat granted as Gojo doesn't harm them but he still wants to have seen the person whose name stains your skin at least once. Needless to say, he is disappointed when he sees your ex who is in his eyes a nobody but perhaps that reassures him a tiny bit. He can't help but torment and scare the poor soul though and they don't know even why. He organizes an appointment for you where the tattoo will be completely removed and only after that he seems to return to his usual self, happily kissing the now empty spot on your skin.

Kamo Choso

🩸​Choso is absolutely attached to your hips. He's needy, soft-spoken, careful and surprisingly considerate. If he wouldn't have been your kidnapper and creepy stalker, you might have appreciated him more though. There is something about him that sometimes just unsettles you and he himself doesn't even seem to notice when he's creeping you out until he witnesses your reaction. You don't even notice him until you feel his fingertips brushing against your skin and nearly jump out of your skin, turning bewildered around to see Choso staring at the same spot where your tattoo was only a few moments ago. He doesn't move as he now stares into empty air as if trying to process something until dark eyes finally meet your own. He swallows before apologizing that he just walked in on you without telling you anything. A few seconds of silence before you hear him asking you once again, this time in a slightly shaky tone, what that was he just saw on your back.

🩸​It's like Choso initially refuses to believe that a tattoo is something permanent as he rejects the thought that you will walk around with a name of your ex-lover forever engraved onto your being. You wake sometimes up in the middle of the night only to feel his hand rubbing against the tattoo as if trying to erase it himself, you notice the way his hands start trembling when he realizes that the ink doesn't fade away even a tiny bit and pray that he won't have a meltdown. Choso would never blame you for it but that means that his hostility is turned against your ex as he starts genuinely believing that they tricked you and manipulated your feelings, abused your kindness which is why you were fooled into getting such a tattoo. He never goes out to kill them though, only because you stop him though and successfully manage to coax him into not doing such a thing and instead he just clings onto you. He asks you anxiously more than once if there is a way to get rid of the tattoo and you know that it's probably the best way to preserve his sanity somehow.

Mahito

🔷​Good luck in general with Mahito because that is a recipe for disaster anyways. Mahito's perception of love differs greatly and is much more twisted and warped than anything and in his eyes he wouldn't even label his feelings as love. He likes to view you more as a sweet experiment, an interesting specism he just likes to spend time with whilst poking and tormenting you to gauge all of your reactions. The best you can do is try to endure it without giving him too much of a reaction because the bastard loves seeing you respond strongly to anything he does. Unfortunately you don't react quite as level-headed as you would like to have when he notices the dark ink on your legs and suddenly yanks you towards him, his hands roughly holding your leg, unimpressed by the way you're kicking and hissing at him. Cold fingers brush over the lettering on your skin, mismatched eyes curiously go back and forth between your eyes and the dark ink on your thigh before he asks you what this is.

🔷​He's genuinely interested to hear your reasons why you would decide to have the name of your ex tattooed on your skin and it is hard for you to tell if he is angry at all about it or not. He's definitely mocking and degrading you though as he labels you stupid for doing something like this despite never having known if they would actually stay with you. His fingers are still tracing over the tattoo and when he suddenly falls quiet for a while, you realize that he's thinking about something. Then he suddenly asks you if you just feel better if you have someone's name on your body which successfully makes you feel like you belong to someone. You're offended by his words but he doesn't give you time to answer as a grin suddenly flashes across his face, his grip tightening as he says with an excited tone that he wants to see his name on your skin too. You can't do anything but watch as your leg deforms in a grotesque way before returning to it's normal form. Your previous tattoo has disappeared and instead the kanji signs now read Mahito's name. Do you want more~?

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 16: CUPID'S CHOKEHOLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to a head.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: mentions of pregnancy, angst, dom!reader, sub!satoru, handjobs, riding, teasing, light degradation, dacryphilia, vaginal sex

ੈ✩ wc: 8.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: happy thanksgiving yall can stop threatening me with bombs now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2011

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you lead Megumi and Tsumiki down the bustling street. Christmas decorations twinkle in shop windows. You pull your scarf tighter, glancing back to make sure the children are keeping up.

Megumi trudges along, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression as serious as ever. Tsumiki, by contrast, practically skips beside you, her eyes wide with wonder at the festive displays. They both wear matching blushes, the cold painting their pale cheeks the same roseate pink.

"Can we get taiyaki?" Tsumiki asks, tugging on your sleeve and pointing to a small shop ahead.

You smile down at her. "Of course. What about you, Megumi? What would you like?"

The boy shrugs, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Whatever's fine."

You lead them into the warmth of the taiyaki shop, the sweet aroma of red bean paste and custard filling the air. As you wait in line, you crouch down to Megumi's level.

"You know," you say softly, ruffling his hair, "it's okay to want things, Megumi. To have preferences. You don't always have to go along with what everyone else wants."

He looks at you, surprise flashing across his face before his usual stoic expression returns. "I... I like the chocolate ones," he admits quietly.

You scratch his head affectionately. "Chocolate it is, then."

You place your order - custard for Tsumiki, chocolate for Megumi, and red bean for yourself. Afterwards, you find a bench in a nearby park to enjoy your treats. Tsumiki chatters away about her upcoming school play, while Megumi listens intently, occasionally nodding or offering a quiet comment.

"You’re gonna stay with us for the holidays, right? Are you gonna move in?" Tsumiki asks suddenly, her voice hopeful.

The question catches you off guard, and you fumble for an answer. "Um, yeah, I will. Stay, that is. And you guys know you can always just knock on my door downstairs."

You’d agreed to stay until the semester ended in the spring. You’d been around for a little over a month, but you already had your doubts about going back to Kyoto. Already, you found yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning while in Tokyo, seasonal depression be damned. You tell yourself it’s not because of the white-haired sorcerer that occupies your thoughts constantly — it’s the familiarity of the city. And the kids, of course.

To both Tsumiki and Satoru’s dismay (and a slight frown from Megumi), you decided to take the offer of an apartment the floor below them. It wasn’t exactly vacant, as Satoru claimed — the previous tenant, a well-off socialite of some sort, needed a sublet. You needed your own space from Satoru for your own sanity, and he was willing to pay the rent for the allotted time you could be there.

Tsumiki pouts. “But it’s easier if you just live in our apartment!”

“I can’t do that since you’ve converted the spare room into yours with all your dolls laying around,” you snort. Tsumiki opens her mouth to protest but decides against it, considering you have a point.

“Hmph. Still. You can sleep in Satoru’s room, right? It’s so big!”

Your face nearly pales at the suggestion, ironically. As if it was something scandalous, which perhaps it would be considering your complicated relationship. You’re sure he’d be thrilled if you brought it up.

Megumi looks up at you, his green eyes serious. "We like having you here," he says softly. "Satoru-san is... different when you're around. Better."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "Better?"

Tsumiki nods enthusiastically. "He smiles more! And he doesn't forget to make breakfast as much."

You chuckle, imagining Satoru's indignant expression if he could hear this conversation. "Well, I'm glad I can help. But Satoru cares about you both very much, you know."

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a photo attachment from him. There’s a boiling pot of… something, on the stove.

satoru: you guys aren’t going to leave me to eat by myself, are you????? ^-^

you: we’ll be home soon. the kids wanted taiyaki

satoru: don’t help them spoil their dinner :(

you: it’s probably more edible than what you’re making

satoru: :( say that to my face at least :(

You chuckle, locking your phone. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get home before Satoru burns down the kitchen.”

As you walk back home with Megumi and Tsumiki, their words echo in your mind. The realization that you've become such an integral part of their lives fills you with a trepidation, but also tenderness. You've been careful not to overstep, to maintain some semblance of boundaries, but the lines have been blurring more and more each day.

The apartment is warm and inviting when you return, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You help the kids out of their winter gear, hanging up coats and scarves as they rush to see what Satoru is cooking.

You follow more slowly, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Satoru stands at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. His hair is slightly mussed, and he's wearing the ridiculous "Kiss the Cook" apron you bought him as a joke for his birthday. 

Satoru looks up, catching your eye. His face breaks into a warm smile, one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat.

"Welcome home," he says softly. “Did you guys have fun?”

Tsumiki launches into an excited recounting of your afternoon, while Megumi nods along, occasionally adding a quiet comment. Satoru listens attentively, his expression softening as he watches the children.

You move into the kitchen, drawn by the warmth and the tantalizing aroma. "What's for dinner?" you ask, peering into the pot.

"Curry," Satoru announces proudly. "My specialty."

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Since when is curry your specialty?"

He grins, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "Since I found your recipe book and followed the instructions very, very carefully."

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You playfully push him away, ignoring the knowing look Tsumiki gives you.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation flows easily. Megumi talks about a new technique he's been practicing, while Tsumiki regales you with tales from her drama club. Satoru watches it all with a contented smile, occasionally catching your eye across the table.

Later, after the kids have gone to bed, you find yourself alone with Satoru in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap as you absently run your fingers through his hair.

Satoru stretches languidly, cat-like. The movement causes his shirt to ride up slightly, revealing his stomach. You force yourself to look away, busying yourself with whatever’s on the television.

“So," Satoru says, his voice low and teasing, "what do you want for Christmas?"

You look down to face him, scoffing. "Who says I'm expecting anything from you?"

He grins that cocky, infuriating grin that still makes your stomach flip. "Come on, Twigs. There must be something you want."

“Haven’t really thought about it.

“C’mon. You must have.”

You weigh your words carefully. "How about... a nice, quiet evening, where you don’t bother me with your bullshit?"

Satoru laughs, his blue eyes warm as he regards you. "I think that can be arranged," he says softly.

He gets closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that you find yourself leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"You know," Satoru murmurs, his voice low, "the kids were asking me the other day if you were going to be their new mom."

Your breath catches in your throat. You narrow your eyes. "That’s not funny."

“What? Their words, not mine.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Satoru, we've talked about this. We can't just jump into playing house. It's not fair to the kids."

He sits up, his expression suddenly serious. "I know. But... is it so crazy to think about? Us, together, raising them? I mean, we’ve already been doing it, basically, right?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you. You can feel your heart racing, a mix of longing and fear swirling in your chest.

"It's not crazy," you admit softly. "But it's complicated. We have a lot of history, Satoru. A lot of things we still need to work through. Also, you’re freshly twenty-two. That’s hardly the age to be a considered a guardian."

“But I am their guardian!” he frowns. “And your mom’s pretty young. Didn’t she have you around our age?”

“That’s not even — we’re going off topic. This isn’t about me having a kid,” you blush, the brief thought of mothering a child of your own with Satoru send a brief shock to your chest. “Just relax, okay? Take things slow.”

Satoru intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Slow," he agrees. "I can do slow."

But even as he says it, you can see the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But just so you know, I'm not very good at being patient."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gojo Satoru."

He grins, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap. "Can you blame me? Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?"

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your thigh. "Satoru," you warn, but there's no real heat behind it.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm behaving. This is me behaving."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quips, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver at the contact, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. "The kids," you remind him weakly.

"Are fast asleep," he murmurs against your skin. "And I can be very, very quiet when I need to be."

“Speaking of asleep,” you say quickly, leaning away. “That’s exactly what I need to be right now.”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a whine, which you would rebuke more efficiently if the sound didn’t make heat settle in the pit of your stomach.

“You still didn’t give me my birthday present,” he murmurs. You don’t miss the suggestiveness in his gaze.

“I didn’t say I’d fuck you.”

“You kind of did,” he pouts.

“You’re still on that, huh? I was teasing you. And drunk.”

The last time you’d went out for drinks with him and Shoko, you’d gone home with him in a good mood, apparently good enough to let him be handsy. He took whatever crumbs he could get from you, played the part of a good dog after he had a few fruity cocktails. You let him kiss you on the side of your mouth and you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Even if he’d shut up, the puppy-dog looks he’d throw you would push you over the edge.

“You tease me every damn day by existing. I should banish you.”

“Right. Like you’d survive more time apart from me,” you snort.

“Of course not,” he rolls his eyes. “I love you too much.”

You meet his gaze, face warming at the casualness of his declaration. This is Satoru stripped bare, all his walls down, offering you his heart. It’s still something you’re not used to — the way he gives affection so easily. He always had, of course, but never so candid in sincerity.

It made you sick almost, like being sugar-drunk on something much too decadent. Humiliated you with how warm it made you, your tongue heavy as lead in your mouth like a teenager again.

“Oh?” Satoru grins. “Did that get you going?”

“No. Shut up.”

“You like that. Noted.”

You scoff, rising from the couch. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart!” he calls after you. “Love you.”

“Goodnight, weirdo,” you huff, trudging your feet towards the door. You pause as you touch the doorknob before turning around. “I love you too.”

You leave too quickly to gauge his reaction, but you feel his smile burn into the back of your neck.

__

You come home to Jiji rubbing his head against your shin. He was still small — a runt, resembling more like a soot sprite than the Ghibli cat he was named after. He acted a lot like Megumi, truthfully. Clung to you, bombarded your space especially if Satoru was around.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, scooping the cat from the floor to nuzzle. “You miss the kids, don’t you?”

He mews at you as if to say yes and you grin. You make your way upstairs, Jiji’s head tucked in your shoulder as you unlock Satoru’s apartment with your spare key.

Satoru is already in the kitchen, hair tousled from the day’s mission. His eyes light up when he sees you walk in. “Twigs! Ready for Operation Birthday Boy?” he grins, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you can greet him properly, your gaze drifts over the amount of balloons and streamers haphazardly aligning the walls. Many are Digimon-themed, despite knowing full well that Megumi preferred Pokemon, but that isn’t an argument that was worth having with Satoru unless you wanted him to revert to his child-self.

“You… went all out,” you mutter, still examining the expanse of the living room. There were streamers every color under the sun strung around, comically bright in contrast with the luxury apartments plain white walls.

The smell of cake batter and melting chocolate permeates through the air. You notice then as you step closer towards Satoru that the Italian marble of the kitchen island is dusted with flour. You groan.

“Satoru, I thought we were picking up a cake—”

“But a homemade one has more love!” he scoffs. He’s made a mess of his apron, not to mention there was a streak of pink frosting on his cheekbone.

“And who said you were qualified enough to bake?”

“Hey! I’m trying here! And don’t worry, I’m not making dinner, obviously. We still have to pick up the hors d’oeuvres from the catering place—”

“What? We’re celebrating a nine-year-old.”

“You get expensive taste when you live with me,” he shrugs. “You like oysters, right? I heard it’s a really good aphrodisiac— ow!”

He flinches when you flick him in the forehead. He pouts, rubbing his head as if you’d actually inflicted damage on him.

“The hell was that for?”

You ignore his question. “Where are the kids? It’s like… dinner time. School should be out by now.”

“I told Shoko to pick them up and stall. I’m still preparing.”

“Satoru — seriously? You decided to make the cake right before we celebrate?”

“It won’t take long! This is a state-of-the-art oven for your information!” Satoru scoffs, rinsing his hands in the sink. The amount of flour on the marble of the island makes you cringe. And was that… an egg yolk stain in the corner?

“That doesn’t mean—”

The oven beeps as if to taunt you. Satoru grins, putting on oven mitts that are comically too small for him to take out the cake. It’s certainly cake-shaped despite the lumpy bubbles on top.

“Wanna help me decorate the cake for the birthday boy?”

You move in front of him, shooing him away. He pouts again, the expression making you want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him, and hands you a butter knife and a tub of mint green frosting.

“Go crazy, Twigs,” he sighs. “I should shower anyway.”

You take the time to meticulously cover the entirety of the chocolate cake in the frosting, with Happy Birthday, Megumi! in loopy script in the middle. You’re quick to clean the rest of the kitchen, still reeling from how much of a mess Satoru managed to make in your absence.

By the time Satoru emerges from his bedroom, the kitchen is mostly clean, and he steps into the room in a crisp baby-blue dress shirt and black slacks. You try to ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly at the sight of it. It was your favorite outfit on him and he probably wore it knowing that. You huff lightly, looking away.

You gain reprieve from his teasing when you hear the door open. More balloons float into the room, all bound in Tsumiki’s small hand as she walks in with Shoko and Megumi.

“Happy birthday, Megumi-kun!” you exclaim in glee, walking towards him for a hug. He smiles brightly, blushing as he hugs you back.

Satoru notices the takeout boxes in Shoko’s hands and raises a brow. “You took them to eat dinner already?”

“Obviously. They definitely weren’t going to eat the foie gras you ordered or whatever the fuck,” she snorts. “But more for the adults, eh?”

“Can you not swear around them –”

“I knew the word fuck before!” Tsumiki beams. You share an exasperated look with Satoru, but he’s only holding in a laugh.

As Shoko and Satoru get the kids settled, you lock Jiji in the spare room to prevent Megumi’s Divine dogs from chasing the poor thing. They were all bared teeth, bright eyes. Still puppies, still young like the kids. 

Afterwards, you return to the living room just in time for Satoru to bring out the cake with pastel lit candles atop of it.

Megumi is quiet as everyone shrouds him, gazing at the birthday cake like he’s never seen one before. He hasn’t really — maybe he did when his parents were still together and alive and didn’t fuck off to somewhere else, he doesn’t know — but even he did, he wouldn’t remember. He had only known shared dandelion wishes with Tsumiki, fuzzy memories of Toji patting his head when on his sixth birthday.

You look at him now and you see a child who doesn’t know what to do with all the love surrounding him, and the sight reminds you of yourself.

“Make a wish, Megumi,” you say softly. He looks up at you with wide eyes as if making a wish were to make a sacrifice. He closes his eyes and blows the candles out, smiling softly as everyone claps.

You lean back on the couch as you watch him unwrap his presents, which include an abundance of hastily-wrapped boxes from Satoru. Toya and electronics that the kid probably haven’t dreamt of owning. Satoru was still young in his own right and it showed in his animated way of speaking, excitedly presenting his gifts to Megumi like he was an older brother. Your chest feels uncharacteristically warm as you watch.

You, Satoru, and Shoko watch as the kids play amongst themselves, indulging yourselves in the catering that Satoru had bought, which was more of a luxury takeout order more than anything. The bottle of wine that Shoko had brought makes you able to tolerate Satoru’s antics. You refuse to admit to him, but you even find him endearing tonight.

After the ordeal, Shoko hugs you and departs to her own apartment, while Satoru entertains the kids with a new video game console he’d bought for Megumi. After cleaning, Satoru insists in you joining, which results in many competitive games of Super Street Fighter IV.

Tsumiki is the first to doze off on the couch, her head cradled in your lap as you stroke her hair gently.

“Hey, kid,” Satoru whispers to Megumi, “Looks like your sister’s knocked out. It’s about time for bed, don’t ya think?”

“But I wanted to play more Final Fantasy!” Megumi whines.

“We can play some more tomorrow,” you quip. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he pouts, taking your hand as you lead him to his bedroom.

Satoru is lounging on the couch once you return, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just a good mom.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Told you we’re not playing house, Satoru,” you scoff, slumping your body into the couch next him.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m just complimenting your ability to rein in some brats.”

“Had a lot of practice from you.”

He laughs.

You glance at him, noticing his mussed-up hair, the soft wrinkles of his button-down. He looked more grown-up than he meant to be. It wasn’t that Satoru looked particularly mature, but seeing him slightly disheveled after handling Megumi’s birthday made him look older than how you’d seen him in earlier years — childish, boyish. In the light of the dim lamp beside him, he looked like a man with responsibilities.

It was like seeing him in the future. But you’re here now, in his apartment, in the present, and the sight of him looking so domestic is doing awful things to your heart.

“You’re… really good with them, too, you know. You don’t really need me,” you murmur.

“Huh?” Satoru raises his brows. “No. Of course I need you.”

You almost blush at that. You’re glad for the wine that he’s given you, relaxing your muscles, giving you an excuse for the flush in your cheeks.

“You can do it on your own, though,” you say softly. “You’re just… better at this than I thought you’d be. It’s admirable. That’s all.”

His gaze softens. “Thanks, Twigs. That means a lot.”

He looks at you then, almost amused, as if the concept of a compliment from you had been completely unheard of. As if the notion alone made him flattered enough to forget humility. (Though, you’re sure the prodigal Satoru Gojo has never known humility.)

“So you’re praising me, then? Do I win best babysitter of the year?” he chuckles.

“Sure. Whatever,” you snort. “Don’t get such a big head about it.”

“Oh, but I must. You think I’m a complete disaster usually, but you’re telling me I was good with the kids tonight? My head is huge, Twigs.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. Trying to hide the way your stomach feels hotter when you look at him and his charming grin. He looks back at you with an expression that makes your pulse go faster.

“You’re cute.”

You blink at him. His voice is heady and husky, his gaze soft. Tentative as he leans in, clearly wary that he’d spook you by crossing the invisible line you’ve set since you decided to move back to Tokyo.

“Speechless, baby?” he drawls. “I didn’t even try hard at flirting this time.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, paying more attention to your glass of wine. “You’re hardly seducing me right now.”

“Never said I was trying to,” he murmurs, leaning into you. His hand is on your knee and you don’t swat him away, for once. In his mind, this is progress.

“But you’re always trying to.” You narrow your eyes.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He hums, the vibration of his voice like warm honey. “Mm. Am not.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed now.” You rise from the couch, but Satoru catches your wrist in his large, pale hand. You look at him with a brow raised.

“Sleep here tonight?”

“No.”

“C’mon. Please? I won’t try anything.”

You contemplate. You aren’t truly at the brink of exhaustion, but the demands Yaga-sensei made of you at school had started to become one of your main stressors. You’re tired. You definitely don’t feel like going downstairs to your own apartment, Jiji in hand, having to clean up the mess in your own space that you ignored in lieu of preparing for Megumi’s birthday.

You swallow, clenching your jaw. “Fine. I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

Satoru smiles wide, flashing his white teeth. Angel-headed under the soft glow of the lamp. You have to look away before your stomach stirs with something you’ll ruminate over.

“Stay in my bed?”

“Satoru—”

“Come on. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. Also, the spare room is a mess. The kids made a blanket fort in there last night that is yet to be deconstructed.”

“Okay. Whatever,” you mutter, retreating to the bathroom to freshen up. Afterwards, you return to Jiji and scoop him up in your arms, pleased at the way the cat nuzzles into your face.

You step into Satoru's bedroom, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The bed is enormous, draped in crisp white sheets that look almost too pristine to touch. It smells faintly of him—clean, like fresh linen and a hint of something sharp and sweet, like cedarwood mixed with sugar. You’re already regretting this decision, though perhaps not entirely for the reasons you’d like to admit.

You undress and change into one of his t-shirts before crawling into his bed. Satoru follows you in shortly after, pausing in the doorway with an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face.

“You know,” he begins, leaning casually against the frame as he folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t think my birthday present would be you gracing me with your presence in my bed tonight, but honestly? Best gift ever.”

You glare at him from over your shoulder as you set Jiji down on the floor. The little cat immediately darts under Satoru’s bed for refuge—likely avoiding any further encounters with Megumi’s Divine dogs, or perhaps the bubbling conflict in the room itself.

“Your birthday was weeks ago. Don’t push your luck,” you warn flatly. “I gave in because I’m tired. This isn’t some… romantic gesture.”

“Oh, sure,” he teases, taking a few steps closer until he towers over you. His voice drops to a playful murmur as he gleefully adds, “But it could be.”

You groan audibly and climb onto the far side of the bed—intentionally as far away from him as possible—and tug the edge of the comforter over yourself without sparing him another glance. "Goodnight, Satoru."

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling off his socks and tossing them carelessly across the room. He casually strips off his shirt and pants, throwing them somewhere near the hamper – not inside it, of course – before flopping down beside you like a content cat. He stretches out languidly, one arm tucked behind his head as he turns to watch you. You try not to dwell on the fact that he’s beside you, only in his boxers.

The room falls quiet save for the soft hum of the heater kicking on and Jiji occasionally rustling beneath the bed. You shut your eyes tightly and try to relax, but there’s no ignoring how aware you are of Satoru's presence beside you—the way his breathing evens out gradually or how his arm brushes yours when he shifts.

Minutes pass in silence before he finally speaks again, his voice softer this time—devoid of its usual teasing edge. “You really think I’m good with them? Megumi and Tsumiki?”

You open your eyes but don’t immediately respond. There’s something vulnerable about his tone that catches you off guard—a rare glimpse at the pieces of himself he so often keeps hidden beneath his bravado.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly after a pause. Turning your head slightly to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains, you add honestly, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

He turns his head toward you now too, studying you intently. For a second, neither of you speak. His gaze holds yours long enough for your chest to tighten uncomfortably under its weight.

“You’re good for them too,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. His voice has lost all pretense now—it’s raw and earnest in a way that has always made you feel unsteady around him. "For us."

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls over you both, but you can still feel Satoru’s begging eyes boring into your skull. You look over to him and it feels like his blue eyes are glowing in the dark. He strips his gaze from you and looks up at the ceiling instead, feigning a casual demeanor.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken tension. You can feel the heat radiating from Satoru's body, achingly close yet still too far. His eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, are dark and intense as they roam over your face.

"Twigs," he murmurs, his voice low. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. In the dim light, his eyes are impossibly blue, gleaming with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek with a tenderness that surprises you.

"I meant what I said," Satoru continues, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're good for us. For me."

He moves closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone. You can feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he leans in.

You swallow hard. "Satoru," you warn, but your voice lacks conviction.

He sighs but leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Please."

You know you should push him away. You know this is dangerous territory, that you're teetering on the edge of something irreversible. You’re too stubborn for your own good, both you and Satoru know this. It’s why you curl into his chest instead of pressing your mouth to his. The fear of falling into his charm is futile, especially with how much you want him, frustratingly so.

Satoru's hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, it occurs to you how close you are to him, how intimate this feels. The air between you feels charged, electric.

He says your name, this time, bedroom-soft. Not Twigs, not baby, but your name.

Instead of shying away as you normally might, something shifts inside you. Maybe it's the wine from earlier, or the vulnerability in Satoru's voice, or simply the culmination of months of unresolved tension. Whatever it is, it emboldens you.

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to head. When you hear the way Satoru says your name, you decide that you need catharsis.

In one fluid motion, you grab Satoru’s wrist, pinning it above his head as you roll on top of him. His eyes widen in surprise, lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Is this what you want, Satoru?" you breathe, your face inches from his. "Is this why you've been pushing so hard?"

"W-what are you doing?" he stammers, caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

Your free hand trails down his chest, fingernails scraping lightly against the skin of his bare chest. Satoru shudders beneath you, his body arching into your touch. You can feel his heart racing, see the flush creeping up his neck under the pale moonlight.

"You talk a big game," you murmur. "But can you handle it when someone else takes control?"

Satoru swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Try me," he challenges, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays his nervousness.

You pull back, meeting his gaze with a taunting smile. Slowly, deliberately, you grind your hips against his, eliciting a low moan from Satoru. His free hand moves to grip your waist, but you catch it, pinning both his wrists above his head.

"No,” you chastise. "No touching unless I say so."

Satoru's eyes darken with desire, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're killing me, Twigs," he groans.

"Good," you purr, leaning down to nip his jaw. 

You take your time exploring his body with your hands, savoring every gasp and shudder you draw from him as if it’s the first time you’ve touched him. Satoru writhes beneath you, struggling against your grip, desperate for more contact. But you maintain control, setting a torturously slow pace that has him practically begging.

"Please," he whimpers, his usual cockiness completely shattered. "I need you."

You smile against his skin, enjoying this newfound power. You scoff. "I thought you said you could do slow?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow. "That was before I knew how evil you could be."

"Evil?" you chuckle, trailing your fingers down his chest. "I'm barely taunting you. If anything, I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Besides, I thought you liked it when I took charge."

Satoru shivers beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I do," he admits, his voice strained. "God, I do."

You smile, a predatory glint in your eyes as you slowly grind against him. The friction draws a low moan from Satoru, his hips bucking up involuntarily. He can feel the warmth of your core, your heat against his cock with only two layers of fabric separating him from what he truly wants.

You tsk, pressing him firmly back down onto the mattress.

"Stay still," you command. "Or I'll stop altogether."

With deliberate slowness, you trail your fingers down his chest, savoring the way his muscles quiver beneath your touch. Satoru's breathing grows ragged as your hand dips lower, tracing the V of his hips before stopping just short of where he wants – no, needs you most.

"Twigs," he groans, frustration evident in his voice. "Stop teasing."

You laugh, nipping at his collarbone. "But you make it so fun, Satoru."

Your free hand ghosts over the front of his boxers, barely applying pressure. Satoru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but you pull away with a wicked grin.

“I told you I’d stop if you misbehave.”

Satoru's eyes flash with a mix of desire and defiance. "You wouldn't dare."

You raise an eyebrow, accepting his challenge. Slowly, you begin to pull away, but Satoru's words tumble out in a rush.

"Wait!” he gasps, panicked. “I'm sorry, I'll be good. Please, don't stop."

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through you. You've never seen Satoru like this - completely at your mercy, his usual bravado stripped away. Even in the dark, his eyes usually glow aquamarine, but right now pools of onyx stare back at you underneath heavy white lashes.

"That's better," you murmur, rewarding him with a slow, sensual kiss. He whines into it, licks into your mouth like he’s begging you to eat him whole. 

You take your time with him mapping every dip and curve of his upper body with your lips and tongue. Satoru writhes beneath you, soft whimpers escaping him as you lavish attention on his most sensitive spots.

When you finally free him from his boxers, Satoru lets out a sigh of relief. But instead of giving him what he wants, you continue your slow pace, placing feather-light kisses along his inner thighs. He huffs when you press his thumb against his leaking slit, while you look at him with a grin as you apply pressure.

“You have such a pretty cock, Satoru.”

His face gets even warmer, if that was possible. “Sh-shut up–”

You raise your brows. “What was that, sweetheart?”

His eyes widen aa your mean expression. "N-Nothing! I’m sorry. Just – please," Satoru begs, his voice hoarse. "I need you. I need—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. The kids are sleeping, remember? We wouldn't want to wake them, would we?"

Satoru's breath hitches at the reminder, and he bites his lip to stifle a moan as he watches you spit on his cock, finally wrapping your hand around him. You set a maddeningly slow rhythm, watching with satisfaction as Satoru struggles to keep quiet. Your mouth grazes him, only barely. He needs you around him, completely. His cock is fucking aching for it.

A whine escapes Satoru's throat, his hips jerking upward. "Twigs, please. I can't— I need—"

Cruelly, you cover his mouth with your palm. You have half the mind to gag him. You’re tempted to, really, but you’ve already slipped off your panties and thrown them somewhere across the room.

“Baby—”

“Stop fucking talking,” you hiss, your hand around his throat. He gasps, looks at you with half-lidded eyes. Mouth parted. Lovestruck. “Be good.”

He complies, whimpering softly instead of pleading with useless words. You watch his eyes roll back as your hand moves from his shaft to his tip, your spit lubricating his twitching cock along with the precum collecting at the top.

You savor the power you hold over him, watching his chest heave with each labored breath. Satoru's usual cockiness has evaporated, leaving him vulnerable and needy beneath you. It's intoxicating.

You can feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut with the effort of staying quiet. His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, eyes shut tight. You release his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest as you position yourself above him.

"Look at me," you command softly.

Satoru's eyes flutter open, hazy with desire. His hands graze your waist tentatively, smoothing over the soft skin over your ribs underneath the t-shirt (his t-shirt) that clings loosely to your frame.

He can almost feel how wet you are, he swears it. His Six Eyes can see everything from the tremble of your pulse, sensing how much your desires are waiting to jump out of your skin. The wetness of your pink mouth. He feels delirious with want, deluded, maybe, just from the intensity of his senses as he takes in your presence.

He could be hallucinating how intense it all really is. He isn’t sure — he’s too drunk on the fact that you’re in his lap at all, partially bare. Your bare cunt hovering over his cock. Taunting. Fucking tease. If he wanted, he could flip you over and restrain you. Have your hands yanked to your lower back, make you yelp like a slut.

But he doesn’t. He’s already a mess for you, no matter what you intend to do to him. He knows there’s something so awful inside of him that’s waiting to crawl out something only you can coax out.

When you look at him with moonlight reflecting in your pupils, the desire overtakes him. Despite himself, he rises him to meet your mouth, desperate for a kiss or any semblance of one, but your hand tightens around his throat. He moans at the pressure of it and blushes, embarrassed. He whines.

“Ha. Nice try. You’re so fucking eager, huh? Missed me that much?” you taunt. It’s cruel and you know it. You’ve known how much he’s wanted you — you’ve defied it when he’s been too candid about it. And now, while his heart is on his sleeve with your name in the center, you tease him.

He would take you over his knee for it if he wasn’t fucking melting underneath you.

“Of course I missed you,” Satoru grits.

“Oooh, so feisty. You look like an angry dog, you know that?” you sneer.

“Belittle me all you want,” he narrows his eyes, “Just let me — fuck —”

He perks up his head and tries to kiss you but you reject him. He has to stifle a groan. His resolve is crumbling into nothingness.

“Please fuck me,” he gasps. “Or just kiss me. Do anything you want. I just — I don’t care. I need you —”

Satoru writhes against the bedsheets. Grits his teeth, baring his canines like a dog ready to fight. But you’re as gentle as you are evil, able to weaken his efforts just by the slight tilt of your plump mouth. A knowing smirk.

“You need me?” you laugh.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Need you. Only you —”

You spit and he watches the drool cascade down to his aching cock. His eyes widen, mesmerized and choked up as you stroke him. He shudders, body arching towards you at the contact.

“Oh, fuck—” he breathes, unable to form words. Your hand feels better than his own. The warmth of your body above him makes his blood sing.

He pants pathetically as you grin down at him with wolf-teeth. He could cry from your touch alone.

"Relax," you breathe, leaning down to nip at his earlobe. "I'll give you what you need."

“Can’t relax — need — ah!” he whimpers. “Please, please —”

“Are you begging?” you taunt, laughing.

“Yes!” he groans.

You hold his gaze as you slowly sink down onto him, savoring the stretch and fullness. A strangled sound escapes him, quickly muffled as he bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

You roll your hips carefully, rising and falling with agonizing slowness. Satoru's hips twitch upwards, seeking more, but you pin them down firmly. Your movements are languid as you relish each tiny gasp and stifled moan you draw from him.

You gradually increase your speed, grinding down harder with each thrust. Satoru's breathing grows ragged, his chest heaving. You can feel him getting close, see it in the tension of his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

Just as he's about to fall over the edge, you slow to a stop. Satoru lets out a frustrated whine, cut off as you press your lips to his in a bruising kiss.

"Not yet," you murmur against his mouth. "I'm not done with you."

“I’m so — fuck,” he slurs, “So close —”

“That’s too bad. Fucking wait.”

His cock throbs at your tone. Your face is calm, tauntingly so, but your voice is cutting with authority.

“God, if I wasn’t so in love with you right now I’d be giving you the worst spanking you’ve ever—” You cut Satoru off, shoving your fingers in his mouth. His eyes roll back immediately, gagging, and you laugh cruelly.

“Oh, you love that. You little slut.”

He moans at the degradation, bucks his hips up in attempt to meet your core again. His large hands are around your waist, trembling as they press in with a bruising grip. You remove your fingers from his mouth, using both your hands to pry off his hands and pin them next to his head. 

“Hey,” you warn, talking to him as if he’s a bad dog. “Told you to be good. Hands up here until I say so, Satoru.”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes, trying not to whine. His hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching as he tries to calm the lion heart beating out of his chest while his body is forced into submission by the girl he’s always had power over. 

He stills his body despite himself, though his dick still aches in anticipation. He’s trying to be good for you. The best. 

You lean over to bite at his nipple and he gasps. The role-reversal was dizzying, particularly because you were using his own tricks against him. He feels like he might lose his mind.

“Stop– stop that–” he rasps.

“Why should I? I know you like it. You like when I play with you.”

“I– I–”

“You’d love it if I just used you, right? You want me so much you’d let me touch you in any way, any time of the day. Am I wrong?” You lift your head to meet his gaze, lifting your brow.

He flushes with embarrassment, stomach flipping at your words. “N-No,” he mumbles. 

“That’s what I thought, baby,” you chuckle. Your nails run through his undercut and he sighs in satisfaction, looking at you through wet eyes. 

“I’m keeping my hands to myself,” he simpers. “Please, just fuck me, I promise I’ll be good —”

“Oh? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes —”

“Mm. Wanna keep playing with you. Lay your head on the pillow properly for me, Satoru.” He obeys you without question, eyes half-lidded with lust as he awaits further instruction. There’s a stupor in his face, dumb with love. He’d do anything you asked. 

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, pleased at his obedience – you’ve never seen him so desperate, despite knowing he wasn’t above begging. Even before, you’d give in, allowing him to use you like a ragdoll. But this — this was entirely new territory. Satoru Gojo was being reduced to tears.

You climb over to him, cunt above his neck. His eyes are blown out, wet as his mouth. 

“You want a taste?”

He nods eagerly, too quickly, too possessed by desire to be embarrassed about it anymore. He wanted you any way he could have you.

You sink down to his mouth and the groan he lets out is louder than you expect.

“Satoru,” you hiss. “Keep it down.”

He whines, lapping at your pussy sloppily. You gasp when he flicks the tip of his tongue your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble as you try to stay upright, knuckles straining against the top of his headboard. At the same time, he uses the opportunity to squeeze the plushness of your ass – something you’d admonish him for if his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh,” you moan out softly, “That’s so good. Just like that, Satoru —”

He moans, his mouth leaking with his own drool and your arousal. It was a treat for him – you never liked sitting on his face for some reason, always blushed when he’d suggest it. But now, he was getting what he wanted. You were throwing him a bone. 

Satoru wants desperately to fist his cock, relieve the ache inside him that keeps building when he hears you whimper, but his hands are too preoccupied with touching you everywhere else. Your ass, your waist, the softness of your breasts underneath your t-shirt. His girl in the palm of his hand.

Your nails scratch his scalp, pulling on the strands of his hair as you grind on his face. Smearing yourself all over him. “Close–”

He doubles down on his efforts and all of it makes you see stars – supernovas clashing together in the fuzzy black behind your eyelids. You have to cover your mouth to keep down the sound of your moan.

His hands are squeezing your thighs. You yelp, overstimulated as his mouth latches onto your clit with no intention of letting go despite your orgasm.

“Satoru, no — no more —”

You roll off of him, ass tumbling onto his torso as he holds you upright. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, kissing you hard. You don’t have a chance to breathe before he does it, but you don’t care — your pussy drips in his lap as he maneuvers you straddle him properly, mouth moaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You can’t take it anymore. You need to be full of him.

You push him off you, pinning him to the bed as your cunt swallows his cock. You wince at the stretch after not taking him for so long, but the resistance quickly disappears from how turned on you are. You’re so overly sensitive from your orgasm that his tip hits your g-spot immediately, stimulation to the max as you grind on him at an angle that brings pressure to your insides. 

“Holy fuck –” Satoru gasps, hands on your hips in a vice grip.

He’s determined to take back any semblance of control, but he fucking loses it at the feeling of being inside you after months and months of a dry spell. You were better than any of his wet dreams. 

He bites his lip in attempt to suppress his whines, hands encouraging the roll of your hips as you grind down on his cock. He loves being used by you, fucked dumb and marvelling at the warmth of your skin on his. He lifts up your t-shirt and you let him pull it off you.

You look down and see puppy-dog eyes gazing at you spilling with tears of pleasure. Angel boy. 

You don’t give him a warning when you finish like you have in the past. It crashes into you, a collision of ecstasy. Months of denying him from your bed and your brain made you forget that he was your very best. Your first and perhaps your last. 

The thought takes the breath out of your lungs. In a moment of lucidity, you look at Satoru full-on, your lust-filled haze clearing to see him fully in adoration. Tears streaming down his cheeks, love painted all over his face.

He hiccups, whimpering. “Baby, I’m close – fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it! P-Please, can I —”

You shut him up with a kiss. “Come for me, Satoru,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re so good. So good to me.”

His eyes widen. He’s about to gasp out a reply but he’s so overwhelmed by your words, the impossible warmth of your cunt sucking him in.

“I love you so much,” you coo, hips gyrating in tandem with his hands guiding you. “You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Then go ahead and come for me, baby.”

“Ah – fuck –” Satoru feels his mouth part involuntarily, letting out the ghost of a moan as he chokes up. The ache in his body bursts into sparks, his cum filling you up to the brim as his orgasm plundered through him. 

His legs are shaking.

His comedown is all erratic breaths, small gasps as he wills his heart rate down to a normal speed. He whimpers as he lifts his head to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your warm flesh before you allow him to kiss you tenderly. 

He mumbles something against your mouth that you don’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You attempt to pull away and he whines like a child. You kiss him again and he deepens it, fingers gathering the hair at your nape.

“Letsgetmarried,” he mutters into your jaw.

“What?”

“What?”

You pull back, staring at him with an amused grin. “Did you just propose to me?”

Satoru stares back at you, his snowy hair sticking out haphazardly. “Maybe. Yes. Like, yes, but also no.”

“You’re giving me mixed signals here.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he slurs. “You fucked me too good. I wanna buy you a house.”

You burst into laughter and pet his head. “You don’t need to do that. You already pay my rent.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. Cradles you to his chest, which you don’t protest.

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

Silence fills the room, save for your soft breathing. You clear your throat and stretch your limbs.

“You’re not actually asking me to marry you, right?” you ask warily. 

“Why not? We already have kids.”

“They are not our kids —”

“They may as well be!”

“Satoru,” you snap.

“Okay, okay. I’m half-joking. But I’m serious when I say that I… I think you’re it for me,” Satoru mumbles. “Don’t want anyone else. Ever.”

You look up at him, your eyes glistening. “Me neither.”

You mean it. You suppose that the months without him were a lesson in patience, in self-preservation. You can’t deny that he was your missing piece despite it all, despite the hell you went through with him. 

Satoru has always held a slice of heaven – it clung to him, that divinity. You are the only thing that keeps him from dimming.

[clowndragonhonkhonk]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Romantic Headcanons ˖ ࣪⊹

Just some nonsensical ramblings about some of my favourite characters and otherwise underappreciated characters (that I also love.)

➲ 𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢, Ragatha, Zooble, Gangle, Princess Loolilalu + Reader (Separately)

➲ Romantic ☒, Platonic ☐

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 5,298 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Gender neutral reader, Ragatha's is purely self-indulgent, enby Zooble, more story-focused in Zooble's part, Gangle is a weeb, Ragatha is a girlfail, Princess Loolilalu is much taller in my mind than in the show, tiny bit of angst in Zooble's part, everything else is extremely fluffy

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢

✪ You are only anchor of sanity in this world, at all

✪ To be honest, Pomni probably didn't even notice you until the very end of episode one, which is fair considering everything she went through

✪ You or Ragatha were the one who probably snapped her out of her little episode at the feast. Like, Ragatha was the one who noticed and cared first, but you were the one who shook her out of her little stupour

✪ And that was how you introduced yourself to Pomni. Which totally freaked her out how she managed to miss an entire person when she first spawned into the cirucs, but you also just jumpscared her by appearing out of nowhere

✪ Despite that, you were still a part of the group she somewhat trusted - The group that she could imagine catching her when she fell in her nightmare

✪ You probably had some quirk to you like everyone else, but at least you weren't up in her face being an asshole like Jax or babying her more than she really cared for like Ragatha. You were some lukewarm mix in the middle that could joke around by still made sure she didn't go spiralling in the middle of nowhere

✪ Which she did appreciate, but she just had a lot of stuff on her mind

✪ I feel like if you were the one to comfort her about the whole Gummigoo incident, that would immediately make you feel much more safe to her

✪ Like, you didn't berate her or give her sympathy she didn't really want. You just let her vent and talk about how he deserved better, giving her a much needed outlet. And she would be so grateful for it, even if she had a really hard time showing so

✪ After that, she would follow you around if she was ever forced to leave her room, almost like an anxious cat with attatchment issues. You just felt like the most sane person here that she could somewhat rely on and who would answer her questions with no hassle

✪ Pomni doesn't necessarily want to get attatched to anyone, considering there's a tiny part of her who still thinks this is a dream and she really doesn't want to wake up only to realise you and anyone else she befriended just never existed, but on the other hand it's really lonely walking around the circus looking for an exit

✪ You don't strictly believe there is an exit, but you don't bring it up at least. Pomni can work with that, as long as you just join her. Last time she went out on her own she ended up in the void and that's kind've the last thing she wants

✪ Touch-aversed but also touch-starved. She hates the idea of being restricted and hugged and doted on because she's so small and anxious and doesn't want to feel trapped, but she also can't remember the last time she just felt appreciated

✪ Maybe just let her hold your hand or something if she feels like it. I can also see Pomni being the type of person who just needs something to fidget with when she gets nervous, and sometimes she plays with her fingers or the buttons on her outfit, but on those days when she's feeling extra icky maybe she'd just like to tug on your sleeve or something

✪ Anyway, skipping forward to when the two of you actually end up together (it involved Pomni being so obvious but just so girlfail about everything it took Caine threatening to get involved for her to pluck up the courage. Of course, you were the only one who didn't realise she had a crush on you)

✪ Yeah, you're still her safe person that she clings to. The one that makes her purr or her pupils twist into silly little hearts

✪ In return, you now have an attack dog girlfriend. Jax found out the hard way you don't want to deal with a pissed of Pomni who would do nothing for herself but everything for her partner

✪ Sometimes her circus themed room makes her feel sick, so she'll wander over to your room in the dead of night (otherwise known as your designated sleeping hours), looking like the very epitome of 'I frew up' as she just stands awkwardly at your door

✪ Little jester likes it when you sleep half on top of her, even if you are bigger than her. You're like a warm, weighted blanket that makes the nightmares not as bad. But she also makes it that much harder to get up in the morning when she clings to you (she may not be incredibly strong, but she is incredibly stretchy and that somehow makes up for it)

✪ After a while of being in the circus, when the exit isn't at the forefront of her mind, I can see her trying to seem cool in front of you. This is when her inner girlfail comes out

✪ She tries to seem cool as you're walking past. Tries to lean on nothing and falls over like a little idiot (please give her a kiss on the forehead it would make her feel like less of a fool)

✪ I think at some point she'd also try and lift you up in a princess cary. Key word being 'try' because she has no strength. Turns out her stretchiness doesn't make up for her lack of strength after all. She's trying her best though

✪ Please give her cute little nicknames. I can't imagine she's the biggest fan of her name considering she got it from an oversized slot machine, so getting a little personalised spin on it from you would make her feel all melty and flustered

✪ Oversized lap cat Pomni

✪ She tries her absolute hardest to give back to the relationship - Late at night when the two of you are falling asleep together, I imagine she'd quietly talk to you, even if you're already asleep. She'd talk about the future the two of you could have once you'd escape this living nightmare, about the apartment you could share and all the plcaes you could go and the things you could do together

✪ She would never give up looking for an exit, but unlike Kaufmo, she has you so giving up is the furthest thing from her mind at this point

𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚

⚉ Absolutely 100% sweetest person you've ever met and will ever meet. Heart of gold, perfect little rag doll and I absolutely love her and please be kind to her she so deserves it and I think she just needs a hug

⚉ Treats you how she treats Pomni (that is if you joined the circus after her). Probably babies you until she feels that you can somewhat stand on your own after acclimating to the digital world. That doesn't stop her from keeping a very close eye on you for a while after, especially if your first few cycles or so are rougher than others

⚉ For a little bit afterwards Ragatha does feel a little lonely. She's gotten used to hovering around you and having you nearby, so she definitely wouldn't say no to you wanting to stick around as her friend (she'd really appreciate it actually, especially if you just ask her how she's doing. She'll still lie and say fine, but it's the thought that touches her metaphorical heart)

⚉ It's difficult to tell when Ragatha first grows a crush on you. Not only does she keep it hidden at first, her usual peppy, smiley and friendly nature means she can be close to you without it seeming out of the norm with her

⚉ As her crush gets bigger, though... Then it becomes much harder for her to keep it under wraps

⚉ If she's not careful, she finds her face becoming just a tad too soft with a love-struck smile, and if she's really in deep a little halo of hearts floats around her head. That parts she hates, because it's way too obvious for her liking

⚉ But Ragatha can't keep it together forever. She's got too much on her plate already as the circus's residential 'glue that keeps everything together' that the mental strain of keeping her romantic feelings hidden is just not something she wants to deal with, so I feel she'd spill the beans rather quickly after catching feelings

⚉ Even if you don't end up reciprocating, she reasons she could deal with it. It wouldn't be the first heartache she would go through, and what's one more to add to the everygrowing pile

⚉ Lucky for her though, you do end up accepting and she finds herself absolutely over the moon

⚉ Definitely one for physical touch - She absolutely loves to just hold you tightly in her arms like you're the ragdoll in the relationship. It's totally not her trying to ground herself in reality to keep herself from breaking down (not fully at least)

⚉ I am firmly in the camp that Ragatha is a girlfail at heart

⚉ Like, her throughout the entirety of episode 2 was just her being a girlfail and I for one am absolutely living for it

⚉ Reasonably, she's still put together, smart and able to hold her own if she really wants to, but whenever it involves you her heart turns to mush and she just finds herself stumbling over her words and fumbling absolutely anything

⚉ It's adorable to watch, though

⚉ I've seen this somewhere before, but, she just has a bright red heart embroidered right where her heart would be in real life? And it's so pretty, like, almost like a tattoo? Just, imagine cuddling snuggly together after another arduous adventure and you just gently trace the shape of the heart and I think she would just melt at the affection? That right there would be the shit that keeps her from going insane in this hellhole

⚉ The same goes for if you like to trace the invisible seams of her stitching. Ragatha just loves the fact you love her despite the fact that her digital avatar is literally just a Raggedy Anne doll

⚉ Backtracking a bit, but if you were the one to confess before she could, I think the girlfail in her would be increased by about fifty percent

⚉ She is stumbling over her words, fidgeting with her woollen hair as her one good eye darts all over the place as those little hearts start spinning around her head. Ragatha starts scuffing her plush shoes against the floor, swaying back and forth and swinging her arms nervously as she finally manages to just say something along the lines of 'oh, yeah! Yeah, I like you too!'

⚉ I just think she gives really nice hugs

⚉ Like, I imagine Ragatha's decently strong (or I like to at least, because I would love it if she was somewhat buff when she was a human). I mean, she can certainly wield a butcher's knife decently well, as shown by her character trailer

⚉ And all of that strength translates into really nice, warm hugs that make you feel safe

⚉ Of course, if you don't like touch she wouldn't push it. I can imagine she'd still want to hug you every chance she got, but she would definitely put you before herself

⚉ Besides, I don't think Ragatha has a specific love language. She's happy to express her affection in any way possible

⚉ The two of you hanging out in her room with her either playing the piano or teaching you how to sew? Absolutely loves it because any time spent with you is far better than getting harassed by Jax on an adventure

⚉ Hearing you so verbally love her? It'll get her stumbling all over the place, and the rest of the day cycle she'll have this sort've happy dumb smile on her face

⚉ Even just wearing similar clothes as her (if possible, because, y'know, digital circus logic) will make her feel all fuzzy inside. For example, if you were a blue ribbon similar to her at all, I think that would just make her feel so neat

⚉ At some point she 100% gifts you a small bouquet of paper daisies for good luck (or just one really big paper daisy that you can carry with you), and also because real flowers don't really exist in the digital world. The paper daisies turned out to be much more durable, too

⚉ I'm just so 'kicks feet and twirls hair' about her

𝐙𝐨𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞

𖦹 Y'know, between the antisocial personality, the short-ish temper and them never going on adventures, it would honestly take forever for a relationship to form between you (even just a platonic one)

𖦹 I feel like Zooble's stance on relationships in the digital world is probably zilch - They don't want to have anything with anyone because there's always the chance of abstraction or, if you ever find an exit, never seeing you again afterwards. As stoic as they seem, I feel like it would kill them inside having the thought that you could've moved on without ever seeing them again

𖦹 Because underneath that 'I don't give a shit exterior', there is a person who actually does give a shit about quite a few things, and it scares them when all of that could disappear within an instant

𖦹 Anyway, friendship comes before anything romantic, and it stays like that for a while. It honestly snuck up on Zooble, which genuinely surprised them. It was like, one day you were just chilling quietly in their room with them, probably doing your own thing but just existing in the same space as them, and it hits Zooble over their triangle-shaped head

𖦹 'Wow. I'm attatched to this person. Shit.'

𖦹 And that certainly was a shock to the system

𖦹 A part of them wanted to withdraw themselves as a defense mechanism, but they just find themselves getting increasingly lonlier and lonelier and more and more guilty about how sad you look when you think no one is looking

𖦹 And so that doesn't last very long.

𖦹 Their apology was short, but it was probably the most you'd ever heard them speak without being interrupted or pissed off by Jax

𖦹 And then you sort've went back to how you usually were, which mostly just consisted of the two of you wandering around the circus tent together while everyone else was out. It was a nice break, considering Caine didn't tend to bother you during these times, and there were some genuinely interesting places hidden around the main hub

𖦹 (Cue you trying to wrestle Zooble's head back from a stray gloink that hadn't been snapped out of existance. Not a very fun experience, especially when you kept snagging your fingers one Zooble's antennae)

𖦹 Neither of you really know who got feelings first, but it would probably have to be you who ultimately confesses. Zooble's already way out of their depth with this whole 'romantic feelings for your only friend in a digital hellscape' shtick going on, so chances are they're not gonna say anything in fear that it might drive a wedge between the two of you if you don't return their feelings

𖦹 But, y'know, maybe if something really bad happened, perhaps something to do with an abstraction like Kaufmo (depending on when you joined the circus), that might freak them out enough to say something

𖦹 For instance, they peek their head out of their room after hearing some strange noises lurking around outside that have them somewhat concerned, only to find the dorm hallway in absolute ruins

𖦹 So, not good. They brave the unknown and start wandering around just looking for the others. Chances are it was just another one of Jax's pranks that got out of control, but they hadn't seen you in particular for a while which was unusual (they dreaded to think about the fact they were getting a bit too used to your company)

𖦹 And then they hear a noise that makes their very being turn cold. A general static hissing along with the very panicked voices of their fellow hellscape attendees

𖦹 They hobble over, only to be met with the sight of Ragatha and Gangle trying desperately to lure away an abstracted circus member

𖦹 That was already terrifying enough, but to see you being cornered, form already glitching out with tears spilling down your face

𖦹 Yeah, they don't hesitate and grab the nearest thing that wasn't fixed to their floor (probably an oversized alphabet block or something) and chuck it with all their might. It wasn't the easiest thing to do with one rubberhose hand and one crab claw, but by god did they do it and did it land with an almighty thwack

𖦹 For a split second, Zooble might consider throwing down with this bastard, until they remember it's like four times their size and could easily kill them

𖦹 (Caine finally showed up at this point, and that was the end of that whole fiasco)

𖦹 Zooble wobbled their way over to where you were still curled up against the floor. Ragatha was trying her best to calm you down, but it was Zooble's prescense that got you off the floor at least

𖦹 This moment was an exception to their 'limited touching' rule, because it was downright traumatic being cornered by a monster that you once knew as a friend. They didn't exactly hate the way you remained huddled up next to them for the rest of the night cycle in their room

𖦹 Zooble probably would've said something not long after - Not so much a stereotypical confession, but more like casual 'hey, I like you and I really care about you more than friends probably should and I just wanted you to know'

𖦹 If not, that event would've sparked you to say something a few 'days' later

𖦹 Either way, from that moment on, you two are somehow closer than before.

𖦹 Very chill and laid back, almost hands off with their emotions. They do soften up around you, but only ever around you. Sort've like what we see at the end of episode two when they're more emotional about Kaufmo's funeral

𖦹 You eventually find out that their antennae wiggle not only when they're pissed off or when their limbs for the day are put in the wrong spot, but they also wiggle when they're happy. Kind've like an abstract form of them blushing

𖦹 Which was very embarrassing for them, but a priceless memory for you. And it's also not something they can hide without looking really suspicious

𖦹 Aside from personal time with each other, every now and then Zooble might accept some physical touch. They weren't the biggest fan of it back when they were a human, and now that their body looks like it does there's just something about it that makes them hate physical touch even more

𖦹 But even they can't deny that the rare kiss between their eyes does feel nice whenever they feel like shit

𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞

🎭 Oh wow, this poor baby is mask over ribbons for you, hands down. 100% smitten and nothing could convince me otherwise

🎭 Follows you around like a lost puppy, no matter the mask on her face. Although, her happy mask usually means she tailing you around for fun, probably because you're on an adventure or because she just wants to hang out. With her sad mask, though, it's probably because she just wants to be around you because your prescence makes the saddness a little more tolerable

🎭 Also, you're pretty much the only person she trusts to handle her masks properly, but even then it's only to get them back to her room or to Caine to fix them.

🎭 Please give Jax a kick or a smack or something. Gangle might not generally like violence, but Jax's had it far too good for too long and she's really sick of being bullied

🎭 Gangle with a partner who becomes her bodyguard against anything (especially Jax) has the same vibe as 'big & beautiful + shrimp' or, if it's more your cup of tea - 'Sir, she's asked for no pickles'

🎭 Obligatory anime nerd Gangle

🎭 Any cheesy romance anime absolutely influenced her reaction to realising her feelings toward you. Like, she would act shy, but in a different more exagerated way and only ever around you, and I think she would just kind've expect you to understand? (She doesn't know any better, just please be patient with her)

🎭 And I think that would just be with her sad mask. With her happy mask, she's probably whipping out words like 'kawaii' and shit. Cringe Gangle is very real and we (or at least I) love her for it

🎭 I think being in the circus would also mean her actions would have sound effects accompanying them. Like, she could smile at you with the :3 face and a little 'squeeb' sound effect would play with perfect timing and it would mortify the both of you

🎭 (Caine is just trying his best to be a wingman)

🎭 Dating Gangle is kind've like dating two people, or maybe one and a half. The shift in personality and tempo between her happy mask and sad mask is definitely noticeable enough for her to almost be considered two people, but there's still something about her that is so undeniably Gangle that it links those two emotion together

🎭 Happy Gangle is like a whirlwind. She's so peppy and bright and energetic that she's almost like a puppy. She can never sit still and her ribbons are flailing around happily whenever she sees you

🎭 It's these moments when she's most happy to accompany you on an adventure - She's probably the most excited about the new adventure out of all of you anyway, but just having her by your side like this can make the whole experience ten times better (especially considering what the adventure is)

🎭 PDA is no problem for happy Gangle. In fact, if she's clinging off you, chances are Jax is going to want none of that and will leave her alone, which means she can be happier for longer, which is certainly a win in her book. Plus, it means she has the confidence to give you all the love she thinks you deserve.

🎭 Sad Gangle on the other hand is much more shy and reserved. Not necessarily bad, but a much more mellow version of happy Gangle. Around you, she's not a sad wet pile of ribbons, but she isn't bouncing off of the walls with happiness either

🎭 She more likely to just want to huddle up in her room with you, buried under her mess of blankets. It's the one good thing about her room, the nice big bed and access to the countless bootleg animes Caine has made specifically for her

🎭 A lot of people say that because she's made of ribbons, Gangle is extremely light with little to no bodily weight. And that makes sense, at least in reality. I would like to propose the idea that Gangle's body has the same weight her human body was, just in the form of ribbons

🎭 It's a little confusing, but much like the rest of the digital world, it's something you get used to with time. It's almost soothing when she just wraps herself around you like an odd weighted blanket, although her mask is a little cold

🎭 Speaking of, kisses with Gangle are a little odd

🎭 Unlike the other characters who have odd face/mouth shapes, Gangle's face isn't pliable enough to properly move and give you a kiss, so she usually resorts to gentle affection headbutts like a cat (which in some ways, she actually prefers)

🎭 She still does love to receive little kisses every now and then though, just not in excess. Probably one to prefer hugging over kissing, at least in the digital world. Her body makes her feel uncomfortable at times, being almost completely flat, and I think she would much prefer to wrap around you to gain some semblance of a bodily shape

🎭 Sticking this here because I don't know where else it would fit, but posing for Gangle's drawings

🎭 As an artist myself, Gangle would aboslutely be grateful to have someone around who'd be willing to do the occaisional pose for her drawing, especially if she was trying to drift from her early 2000s anime style into a more realistic one (or even if she was just gesture doodling for fun)

🎭 Even if you're not comfortable enough to pose for her drawing, she 100% draws inspo from you for her art more often than she is willing to admit. No, those fanfics and fanart are definitely not based on your and her, why do you ask?

🎭 Caine forbid that Jax ever finds her hidden stash of fanart and writings

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐥𝐮

🍬 Okay, so if you're dating Princess Loolilalu, chances are you're also probably an npc like everyone else in the Candy Canyon Kingdom. You could be there to help with the heist quest, or maybe Caine planted you there with the intentions of giving you a quest in the future

🍬 All everyone knows is that you and the Princess are very sweet. Like, sickeningly sweet - Cavity giving sweet. Jax probably pretended to throw up when he saw you (or he actually threw up, depends on how committed to the bit he is)

🍬 Which, it makes sense, seeing as you're living in a literal kingdom made of Candy, it only made sense that the people who lived in it were as sweet as their home

🍬 That being said, you two can still go a little overboard sometimes

🍬 Not really either of you faults, Loolilalu is just a very affectionate and soft person (or ai, if you want to get technical), and that's certainly doubly so when it comes to her most beloved

🍬 Chances are, the almost overwhelmingly sweet and sugary vanilla and strawberry syrup scent that she emits also clings to you. You could read this as her being very clingy and loving, wanting to constantly touch or hug you whenever she can, or you could read this as just being in her prescence for an extended amount of time does the same thing

🍬 Either way, Loolilalu smells very sweet, and, by extention, so do you (even if you already smelled sweet as a candy npc)

🍬 Not much to say about an npc/npc relationship. Y'all are just coded to be very wholesome together

🍬 However, if you were a human player character, things suddenly get much more complicated and much, much more angsty

🍬 The most likely scenario is a very much one-sided unrequited love situation. If only for the fact that the npcs don't retain any memories from previous adventures, and therefore can't grow feelings for a non-npc character

🍬 But Caine also probably steps in the minute he feels than an npc is getting a bit too immersive for his liking

🍬 However, let's just say for simplicities sake, that somehow Loolilalu's ai developed into a similar ai to Caine - That is to say, above the coding.

🍬 She now has complete control over the Candy Canyon Kingdom map, though she's nowhere near as powerful as Caine and therefore still has to hide herself in some way

🍬 100% The two of you met through one of Caine' wacky adventures, and this was way before her ai had 'grew out of control' to say.

🍬 With her memories as addled as they were from the constant wiping, she probably doesn't really remember the first time you met at all. Maybe some fuzzy pieces she could put back together, but otherwise most of her early memories of you and the rest of the circus are incredibly vague

🍬 And because of this, the most likely scenario is that you develop feelings first, and because of this you always looked forward to the Candyland adventures more than any other ideas Caine comes up with (unlike a certain jester). And seeing someone so invested in his little wacky ideas, Caine probably brings you and the rest of the group back to the specific map more and more often

🍬 Repeated exposure apparently snapped Loolilalu out of her ai trance, and as soon as she started remembering more and more details as well as preventing the map from properly closing after Caine deemed the adventures done, the relationship between the two of you blossomed not long after

🍬 After a hostage situation gone out of control ended up with a chase through the rocky roads, you decided to stay back in the kingdom to nurse the growing ache in your body as a result of a strange candy cane (thanks for that, Jax), Loolilalu approached you

🍬 Probably because she was now sentient and everyone else was a faceless mannequin, but also because she just thought you were cute (and maybe because you seemed a little more mellow than you cohorts, and potentially more open to answering any of her questions.)

🍬 One thing lead to another, and now you're dating a candy kingdom ruler npc

🍬 As a partner, she's very similar to how she would be toward you if you were an npc

🍬 Maybe a tad bit clingier, to be honest. She can't really help it, not when you're away for extended periods of time, leaving her alone in a world with no one but very repetative mannequins to talk to

🍬 All she wants to do is sweep you off your feet and never let you go (and probably carry you around as she goes about her day because damn this woman is tall-)

🍬 There's another part of her that also wants to absolutely pepper you in sweet kisses. However, after one run in with some very red and very stubbourn lipstick (that almost got you in trouble once with Caine), she decidedly tones it down as much as possible

🍬 However, there's certainly probably no repercussions if you decided to give her a little smooch (or a lot of smooches perhaps? Please?) She'd absolutely melt if you gave her a little peck on her gloved hand

🍬 (You totally don't do it because it's pretty much the only place you can reach by yourself)

🍬 And despite the very dainty princess appearance she has, if she gets the chance, Loolilalu will 100% take you horse riding on one of those gummy elephants. They're not too fast, but by golly was the one rocky ride (she totally planned this. She wanted you to hold on to her like you were in a romcom)

🍬 She restrains herself until she's pretty sure you're alone, because she'd rather not let any mention of your relationship somehow get back to Caine.

🍬 I like to think that everyone else in the circus (besides Caine and Bubble) know about your relationship, and for the most part, they're all supportive (can't deny Pomni would probably be a little salty that you get to date the princess but she couldn't even keep her gummy friend). Jax has contemplated letting something slip, but honestly? He hates Caine more than he dislikes you, so for now his lips are sealed

I think my ittby bitty crush on Princess Loolilalu was almost certainly influenced by my crush on Princess Bubblegum when I was younger.

Pink divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Masterlist, Rules & Info,

[miveras]

Drabble: Silent Treatment | JJK

Pairing: jungkook x reader Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff Word count: 1.6k Warnings: none

masterlist

---

“You’re so fucking lazy,” you scream, “Do you ever just look around and think to clean up after yourself once in a while?”

You pick up his worn, mahogany sweater off the floor and into the bucket you struggle to carry with only one hand. You resist the urge to chuck it at him, ignoring you with a scoff. 

You weren’t this angry to begin with, but you couldn’t help it after seeing his reaction to you. This was the second fight you’d had, and this has been the worst so far. He wasn’t listening to you at all, and you didn’t know what would make him finally cooperate. 

Though you shouldn’t fuel the flame, you keep nagging at him to get up and pointing out every one of his wrongdoings in the past few weeks. 

“Just give me a few days. You know I always clean on weekends since I don’t have time on weekdays,” Jungkook replies with a serious tone. You can see it in his eyes, his anger building up by the second.

“Well if you don’t have time, then why are you on your phone? Why aren’t you doing anything then?” you rambled.

He groans in response, obviously annoyed that you keep going back and forth with harsh blows.

After you guys dated for a year, you thought it’d be a good idea to start discussing the living situations. When he told you that his landlord was raising their prices, it posed the perfect scenario for you to invite him in.

Jungkook moved in just past a month, and sure, he was fine the first two weeks. He cooked for you, cleaned after himself, and tried his best not to make a mess. But recently, you’ve caught him being such a horrible roommate that now, you couldn’t stop the hurtful words coming out of your mouth. 

“Shut up…” he mutters in a quiet voice, avoiding your confrontation. He wished you hadn’t heard it but when he hears your feet dragging against the floor, he knew you did. 

But you didn’t choose to answer him and instead, you gave him the silent treatment. 

He enjoyed the short while that you left and came back with a vacuum. For the rest of the week, you guys cut off contact with each other, living in the same house but not saying anything. You even went as far as to eat at a different time than usual, just to avoid him. You weren’t giving this up easily– you wanted him to care, needed him to. You wished he found this just as important as you did.

Over the past week, all you focused on was your job. At work, all you thought about was him– it got so bad to the point where your work friends started questioning you about your sanity. You were constantly zoning out and the lack of sleep didn’t help at all. 

You asked for help from one of your friends: Ara. While writing a paper about the company’s statistical reports, you had a welcome visitor come in– just who you were looking for.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a bit,” she whines, “I literally missed you so much.” She almost leaps into your arms as soon as she sees you. At least someone was happy to see you. She hugs you so tight you had to push her away for a bit, trying not to pass out from the lack of air.

“Ara, I missed you…” you pout. She notices the sadness behind your eyes, knowing that you’re not usually this affectionate unless you need it. Ara immediately knew something was wrong from the way you were reacting to her presence– though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

You fess up to her about everything, including the words you and Jungkook exchanged. It was pretty harsh, to say the least. Ara understood you, more than anyone else could (except Jungkook of course). 

Her advice to you was to communicate, but it was way harder than it sounded. You couldn’t do it, not now at least.

You tried your best to avoid him by doing literally anything else: going out to work, cleaning, anything. It was pathetic to anyone who wasn't either of you– everyone knew how much both of you guys loved each other, and everyone knows you guys belong to each other. 

You were too stubborn to admit defeat so you waited for Jungkook– who was probably the only person just as stubborn as you, to apologize first. Predictably, it’s been an ongoing problem for more than just a few days.

Whenever it was time to sleep, your heart raced faster than normal beside him. You had already promised yourself not to lean over and kiss him, admire him, or do anything with him as a form of his punishment. But now, it started to feel like your’s. 

Did he even care about you? Did he even miss you?

You hated the way your body couldn’t relax, feeling every nerve pulse throughout your body. You swallow, wondering how long it’ll take you to fall asleep considering your inability to when you’re not embracing something. 

You shifted slightly, missing the way he looked over to you with a worried expression but not having enough courage to do something about it. 

He sighs, turning the other way as well. He decided not to do anything– he was way too exhausted and stubborn to even face you. He wouldn’t know what to say.

---

The next morning, you wake up with the house all tidy– clothes in their right place, no food in sight, all the dishes clean, but you can’t seem to find the one who did it. He must’ve gone to school already.

The following days were all the same. He goes to school, then you, then avoids each other all day, then comes home just to sleep facing opposite each other. I was tired, no doubt. 

He’s stubborn and you’re stubborn. You’d think you were a perfect match until something like this comes along. It’s funny, you think. 

At some point, all you wanted to do was be in his embrace. To feel his warmth all over you. Oh, how you wanted to just kiss him all over and play with his hair until he falls asleep.

As you think about how much you miss him, you wonder how much or if he even missed you at all. You look beside you– suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness. You almost forgot how much you missed him. 

Unintentionally, your shoulders shake as you try your best to keep in your weeps quiet and breaths steady. Streaks of tears drop to your cheeks, entangling with your hair. You struggle to stop your sobs from coming out, covering your mouth and wiping your eyes to make sure Jungkook doesn’t wake up because of you.

It was truly your last straw. You couldn’t handle being away from him anymore. 

“Y/N…” he whispers, concern written all over his face. You freeze, not being able to comprehend anything at that moment. 

Still feeling groggy and dazed from his sleep, he rubs his eyes to see you clearer. Once his eyes set on you, a small rush of panic goes through his veins, worriedness taking over his body. He parts his lips in shock and slowly wraps his arms around you– not quite sure what to do. 

You feel his arms snake to your waist, kissing your head and muttering soft phrases to calm you down. You wallow in his embrace, slightly embarrassed about your outburst that had him waking up late at night. In a way, you felt ashamed of yourself and your feelings, suddenly feeling more insecure about yourself as Jungkook continues to hold you in silence. 

He felt wrong reaching for you when it was obvious he was who you were upset about. He had a clue on what was happening to you– what you were worried about, but he decided to stay quiet and bring it up later when you don’t look as hurt. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I love you so much..,” his voice trails off as he starts peppering kisses all over your face. You can tell that he felt extremely guilty just by his voice, and his expression sends confirmation of that. 

At this point, you had already stopped crying out of embarrassment, shame, and even comfort from Jungkook.

“I-I’m sorry too,” you sniffle, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

“I didn’t get the chance to apologize sooner. I..I was just scared that you’d stay mad at me– then I wouldn’t know what to do” he explains nervously. Rubbing your arm comfortingly, he asks you to stay with him. “I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“Jungkook, I love you too. I hate fighting with you,” you confess. He only smiles in response, though you can’t see his face when yours is buried in his chest. You hug him back in return– both of you exchanging loving glances at each other. 

Jungkook kisses you in the temple one last time before closing his eyes and relaxing his body.

In a few minutes, you both fall asleep in each other’s comfort. You missed him so much even though you’ve barely been apart and he feels the same exact way. That definitely wasn’t the last argument you’d have, but it’d be the last one where he’d make you cry. 

Ara was right– all it took was a bit of communication.

[imagine-silk]

I hope you are doing okay. I would really like a rather simple Idea of the Yan Fallout 4 boys whose obsession confesses that they have a crush... on someone else. But that someone else has no Idea.

》Ah, I see you crave violence.

【Codsworth】 "You can do so much better."

As much as he has no desire to date you he sees how great you are and you deserve someone just as lovely, maybe even more than you if someone like that existed. Who you've picked is subpar. Oh, they can make you laugh? Do higher your standards, please. For his non-existent heart.

【Danse】 "What do they have that I don't?"

In his heart he gets it; he is a broken man who isn't even human. But this was the last bit of sanity he could take. You try to explain yourself, whether it be the other person never spat at a ghoul or simply has their life together. He knows he can't change the past and he doesn't want you to leave him. Against his better judgement he goes to that person and fights them. He wins too.

【Deacon】 "How could that happen?!"

Deacon would consider himself lucky man, and he was very lucky you told him while you were on an investigation. This person lived quite comfortably and had a very stable life. Imagine everyone's surprise when someone found a letter on him saying he was going to let the raiders into Diamond City because no one would suspect him to be up to no good. Who told the guard? Don't worry about it.

【Hancock】 "Here's how this is going to go."

The second they set foot in Good Neighbor they are dragged into his office. He talks to them with thinly veiled threats and tells them to back off. When they say 'no' and stand their ground he says, "Whoa, you see that Glory?" with his hands up. She then proceeds to say she did, that they had a gun pointed at him. When they still don't back down and try to deescalate he has her shoot him. Even though everyone in Good Neighbor knows what happens the official story is that they pulled a weapon on the mayor and Glory had to save him. No one betrays that story.

【MacCready】 "Who?"

He plays dumb and asks you to tell him who they are. And you had no reason to think he had any ill intentions. Afterwards he brushes it off with a, 'good luck with that' kind of dismissal. However, now that he knows their name, where they live, and where they work, he kills them from long distance. No one can point the finger his way because he never knew the person.

【Nick】

♤If Platonic "When do I get to meet them?"

He's gonna do an impromptu 'If you want to date my daughter' kind of dinner with them. The entire time he's watching them with great interest, making threats in just the right way to be completely permissible. If and when you excuse yourself for a moment he fully tells them they have one shot to play this out and if they get it wrong no one will find their body. Don't be surprised if they dump you the next day.

♡If Romantic "Stay away from them."

He didn't mean to say it but after he did he had to roll with it. His silver tongue got him in and out of a lot of places so it's not hard to craft a story about how the person in question exhibits strange behaviors, enough that he needed to look into it. Just to make sure his story goes unchecked he pays them a little 'visit' and tells them to never speak to you. Ever.

【Preston】 "Really? That's great!"

He immediately supports you in your endeavor but later when you go to sleep he finds that person. He takes them out of earshot of the town and kills them, throwing their body into the river after. In the morning they are nowhere to be found and you're heartbroken. It's okay, Preston will help you look for them. He'll be right next to you.

【X6-88】 "I see."

He wants to tell you you're too good for them but that would be a waste of time. No, he needs to be smarter than that. Excusing himself and then finding them dead would be too suspicious. He was by your side the entire day and they suddenly collapsed. They died in your arms. Say what you will about that strange tragedy, you can never say you suspected him.

[jacarandaaaas]

What you hate about each Encanto character and what you love about each Encanto character?

oh this is such a fun ask! a hard question as I love all the madrigals and the fact they’re so flawed makes them more fun to follow!

alma: i love her commitment, how she vowed to protect all these people even sacrificing her own needs to provide for others, how she promised these people a place of refudge and was always there to provide.

dislike: An obvious one here but I dislike how controlling alma can be, how her need for perfection can blind her and lead her to disregarding her own families feelings as well as her own! Her generally dismissing a lot of the problems of her family like telling pepa to control her emotions or not realizing how hurtful her comments are to mirabel.

pepa: i love how emotional she is! when pepa loves she loves with her entire heart she pours her all into every interaction and she wears her heart on her sleeve! she’s so compassionate! pepa truly is an open book and I love her for it!

dislike: i would probably say how she can get irrational very quickly and cause situations to elevate fast! Although I really can’t blame her for this based on the circumstances!

julieta: i always describe julieta as warm and i feel like no other word can capture her comforting nature and gentleness. I just love her warmth and her soothing energy!

dislike: I would say how she tends to coddle mirabel a lot. I know it comes from a place of love but you can see it doesn’t help mirabel and only makes her feel more insecure because julieta doesn’t understand her.

bruno: for bruno I would say I love how selfless he is. It’s a big thing to sacrifice your own sanity like that for someone else and it’s touching how much he truly cares about mirabel to want to protect her like that.

dislike: i would have to say how he’s timid a lot of the time. It’s sad to see him become so resigned and almost accept his fate and stay in the walls possibly forever. He had no fight left in him.

felix: I adore how felix is just the epitome of life of the party! he’s so uplifting and I love how he never gives out to pepa for her emotions. He’s the best at cheering people up and a sunshine in everyone’s lives!

dislike: about felix? that’s hard to say I feel like we don’t see enough of him for me to really base my answer on anything so I’m just gonna say how he told pepa about the vision at dinner😭 dude that was the worst idea!!

agustín: i love how supportive he is! He continuously supports julieta he runs after luisa when she’s upset and he promises mirabel he would hide the vision to protect her! the fact both he and julieta tried to go after her when she ran for the candle too! He also fiercely stands up for mirabel in such an iconic way and he doesn’t back down!

dislike: I would have to say how he can often hammer in the fact he is also unexceptional to try relate to mirabel but it makes the situation worse.

isabela: I love how loyal isa is. She was doing everything for the sake of the family and was willing to sign her entire life away just to keep them happy. Her loyalty knows no limits and I just feel it’s such a defining trait for her.

dislike: probably how smug she can be at times a key example being the apologize scene! it is funny but it’s also infuriating how smug she was making mirabel apologize for something she didn’t even do. Also how she tells mirabel to shut up and her general rude remarks to her!

dolores: for dolores I would say I love how attentive she is! small scene but how she immediately notices alma needs help and goes to offer her support! She notices the small details even without her super hearing! Like how she points out how mariano talks loud even though she hears everyone’s voice his always stuck out to her <3

dislike: probably how she blurts stuff out without thinking it through! like we know she was trying to be helpful when she told the kids mirabel doesn’t have a gift but she didn’t consider how mirabel would feel about that.

luisa: I love how kind luisa is! she was always willing to lend a hand to the people who need her even when they absolutely could deal with a lot of issues themselves! She’s also very sensitive and soft and I love when she allows herself to be vulnerable!

dislike: this might be unexpected but for dislike i would have to say how she kept ignoring mirabel when she wanted to talk. I understand she was stressed and mirabels being irritating but she could atleast look at her, mirabels already ignored a lot already and all she wanted was to talk to her sister about an issue.

camilo: like how mirabel says in the opening song I love how camilo won’t stop until he makes people smile! whether it be through his humor or his compassion I get the impression he would always be there for people. the scene where he comforts pepa is such a key example of this!

dislike: he can be a bit too blunt at times where it’s definitely not called for! he also has a tendency to exaggerate the truth for dramatic effect!

mirabel: have always said this and always will mirabels core trait is her empathy! Her ability to see others perspectives and empathize with them is so important! I always think of the “I need you” scene as a key example of this. She put aside her own feelings and focused on supporting antonio making sure he’s ok! how when she learns of the other madrigals struggles she tries her best to help them or comfort them! empathy is such a strong defining trait for her!

dislike: when it comes to mirabels negative traits I would have to say her stubbornness is the most prominent. the entire scene in isabelas room is proof of this she would have rathered let that house collapse than apologize or even listen to isabelas struggles the fact she was supportive and empathic to everyone’s issues but isas (at first) she was too stubborn to put aside her issues with isa! but also her recklessness and impulsiveness tie into this as well.

antonio: I love everything about him he’s so sweet and caring and I love how he returns the support mirabel gave to him! he always believed in her and was her biggest supporter and best friend! also how offered his plushie to comfort bruno when he was nervous! antonio is just such a caring kid!

dislike: nothing literally nothing how can u dislike this baby?

[virescent-v]

School Yard Bully

hi hello! a cheeky bingo req incoming!

could i request Emily x Reader with the prompt „I want to hear you beg”? Maybe a bit of enemies to lovers? <3

Filling the prompt for the lovely @prentiss-theorem bingo :)

Summary: Emily's had it out for you since you joined the BAU. What is her deal?!

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: Some light cursing. Surprisingly, no smut yall, sorry to disappoint ;)

You’ve busted your ass every single day since joining the BAU. You got the job on a whim, a chance connection between your previous boss and someone within the office. You didn’t ask too many questions; you were just excited for a once in a lifetime opportunity to show off your knowledge and skills. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean that everyone found your presence…helpful. Most of the team had no issues with you, accepting you with open arms, showing you the ropes and learning as much as they could about you. 

Actually, there was only one person who seemed to have an issue with your arrival. 

Emily. 

You weren’t really sure what the problem was. From the get go, she’s seemed to have it out for you in some way or another. At first, you thought it was just normal newbie hazing. But, it’s been months and she’s never warmed up to you. 

She constantly berates you in front of others, never taking your suggestions seriously, always doubting the information you shared, finding second opinions from other team members when she could. She always found excuses to never be alone in the same room with you, always got out of doing interrogations, stakeouts, or assignments with you. She didn’t ask you any personal questions; hell, she barely tried to talk to you. If she did, it was usually snarky, sassy, and to be honest, a little rude. 

At this point, you’d learned to try your best to stay away from her. 

Hotch had noticed almost immediately that something was off. He tried talking to the two of you together about it, but both of you said nothing. He kept Emily in his office after you left, their voices raised from inside the office. She left not five minutes after you, slamming his door shut on her way out before leaving the office for the day. 

No one else on the team seemed to know what was up with Emily either. 

Penelope, JJ, Derek, and Spencer had all had separate conversations with you regarding her behavior, trying to get to the bottom of it. None of them had a clue. 

Regardless of her behavior, you knew that she wouldn’t let anything happen to you in the field. She was no nonsense, and somehow that made you feel a little bit better. 

Still, it pissed you off that you knew you hadn’t done anything to her, and yet, she was still a bitch to you. 

At the six month mark, you could tell the team was getting frustrated by the lack of connection between the two of you. You oftentimes didn’t do after-work social gatherings because you didn’t want to make Emily hate you even more. She was here first after all. 

“Oh, come on! You never hang out with us!” Penelope exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve of your blazer. “Just this once, please!” 

You could feel yourself giving in to the temptation of a night with the group. After a hellish week at work, you could use the drink and some unwinding at David’s. 

But, you knew that Emily was going, as her and JJ had been talking about what food from Rossi they were most looking forward to at lunch. 

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t know, Pen. I’m not really feeling up to…all that,” you sighed, taking a sidelong glance at where Emily was in conversation with Reid. 

Penelope sighed right back at you. “I know, sugarplum. But you two need to work out your issues. For the betterment of the team. And both of your sanities.” 

You rolled your eyes, Penelope’s truthful words putting you on edge. You knew that you couldn’t let Emily bully you forever, but you really just didn’t have it in you to deal with her sarcastic comments tonight. 

You crossed your arms before looking Penelope in the eyes. “Fine, I will go,” you said, Penelope whooping in excitement. “On one condition.” 

Penelope’s face went straight, one of the most serious looks on her face you’ve ever seen. “Name it.” 

You smirked. “You run interference and don’t leave me alone in a room with her.” 

Penelope’s smile grew. “You got it, sweet cheeks.” 

*

You and Penelope arrived at David's at the same time, heading immediately inside to his stocked bar, quickly making yourself a drink. 

You had barely taken a sip before Emily was in your face, making some snarky comment about how you handled yourself during the case this past week. You could feel your irritation growing, even though Penelope was trying her hardest to distract and move the conversation along. JJ shuffled her feet, trying to pull Emily away towards the dart board Rossi had for a game. 

For whatever reason, Emily wasn’t taking the hint or bait. She stayed focused on you, her dark eyes burning holes into you. You could feel the heat flushing up your chest, finding a home on your round cheeks. 

You felt like the odd kid out, just like you did in elementary school. You didn’t deserve her hatred, her comments growing more and more fierce. You hated how well Emily could read you, even for someone who didn’t know you that well. She was finding every insecurity you had and digging her claws into them, overwhelming you. 

Instead of embarrassment or shame heating up your insides, all you felt was fury. It had been months of rude ass comments and you were getting absolutely sick of it. 

“Fuck off, Emily,” you all but growled. You watched as she paused for a second, almost as if she was in shock of you finally sticking up for yourself. 

She quickly refocused, a slight smirk on her lips. “And if I don’t?” Her eyebrow lifted. 

You scanned your eyes up and down her body, noticing how Emily’s body was almost leaning closer to yours, ready for a fight. Your expression mirrored her own. “You don’t know me, Prentiss, of your own doing,” you paused, watching as Emily seemed to be hanging on to your every word. “I’ll kick your ass if I need to. Now, leave me alone and let me enjoy my drink in peace,” you turned back to the bar, trying to find the rum to make yourself another drink. 

Before you could, you felt two warm hands on your hips, forcibly turning you around. 

You came face to face with Emily, her body so close with every breath you could feel her breasts graze yours, her arms on either side of you on the counter, closing you in. “I’d like to see you try, princess,” she whispered, her breath ghosting over yours, the smell of liquor present, but not overly strong. 

At this point, you were absolutely fed up with Emily. You shoved her off of you, causing her to stumble a little over her own feet. Before you could rush forward, Derek was pulling you in the opposite direction, Hotch pulling Emily in the other. 

“Enough!” Hotch yelled, causing the irritated banter between the two of you to stop completely. “I have had enough of this, whatever this is, between the two of you. It ends tonight.” He motioned to Derek, both of them dragging you off further into the house, shoving both of you into one of Rossi’s guest bedrooms. 

Before either of you could make towards the door, you heard a lock click into place. “No fucking way,” Emily hissed. She tried the handle, finding it impossible to move. “Let us out! Come on guys, this isn’t funny!” 

“No, what isn’t funny is your behavior towards each other for the past six months. It ends tonight. I’m serious,” Hotch spoke. “You two will stay in that room until you work whatever this is out.” 

“You’re treating us like teenagers, Hotch! Now let me out!” Emily said, banging her fist on the door. 

“I wouldn’t have to treat you like teenagers if you acted like grown adults. Have a good night, guys!” 

You and Emily could hear multiple sets of footsteps leading down the long, secluded hallway away from the room. 

“Those sons of bitches,” Emily muttered. “I will make them pay when I get out of here.” 

You scoffed, drawing Emily’s attention once more. “Oh, come off it, Em. This is one-hundred percent your fault.” 

Now it was Emily’s turn to scoff. “My fault? Mine?! How the hell is this my fault!?” 

You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering just under the surface. “You’ve been a raging cunt since I got here, Prentiss. I tried for months to befriend you. To get on your good side. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t. So, I gave up. I stayed away from you.” You could feel the fight slowly leaving you, entirely spent on this ongoing argument. 

You stared down at your hands, fiddling with the wristband of your watch, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to break. “I begged Hotch for a transfer, but he denied it. You’ve made my life hell since joining the BAU, Emily, so much so that I wanted to leave.” You sighed. “I don’t know what I did that pissed you off so much, but I’m done fighting with you. You win.” 

You weren’t sure how you were going to face the team whenever they decided to let you out, but you could feel the blush staining your cheeks already from embarrassment. You wondered if this was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and force you to quit, a thought that’s been rattling around for a few weeks. 

“The first day you walked into the BAU, you took my breath away,” Emily whispered. 

Your head snapped up, trying to catch her eyes, but finding her facing away from you, her arms curled around herself protectively. 

Emily chuckled humorlessly. “God, you were so gorgeous and bright eyed and excited and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you.” She paused, looking up, finding a dumbstruck expression on your face, your mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Probably wasn’t the best way to go about things, ya know, but I settled into the middle school-bully your crush-ideal and it just stuck,” she sighed. “I think it was a way to protect myself.” Her eyes caught yours. “Because I knew that you were capable of tearing my heart to pieces.” 

You felt about ten different emotions run through you at once. “Are you fucking kidding me, Emily?” 

You watched as Emily instinctively took a step back, wincing at the tone of your voice. “I’m sorry, I-” 

“No, Emily. It’s my turn to talk now,” you said, making your way towards her. “You bullied me for months just because you had a crush on me?” You asked incredulously. 

Emily went to talk, but you smacked your hand over her mouth. “You bullied me, Prentiss, when we could’ve been kissing this whole time?” 

You found it almost comical how wide Emily’s eyes got, your sentence sinking in. You started to giggle at her attempting to speak with your hand still over her mouth. “Wanna try that again?” 

She took a deep breath, settling her eyes on yours. “Can I take you out to dinner to make up for it?” 

You closed the distance between the two of you entirely, your chest flush with hers. You could feel the quickened rise and fall of her chest, feel her stuttered breaths against your face. You trailed your hand down the side of her face slowly, watching her pupils dilate as you moved down her jaw, across her collarbone, before settling it on the middle of her chest, feeling the rapid pace of her heart beneath your fingers. “I want to hear you beg, Emily,” you smirked. “You owe me that much.”

Emily licked her lips, her smile growing large and sinister. She leaned forward, her lips brushing your ear. “Please, princess,” she emphasized the pet name, almost mockingly. “Let me eat you out. Sorry,” she cleared her throat. “Take you out. Let me take you out.” 

You threw your head back and laughed, full bellied and loud. Your hand lightly smacked at her chest. 

“Next Friday, seven p.m. sharp. Take me out and make it up to me, Emily.” “Yes, princess,” Emily winked.

------

A/N: thanks for reading yall :) I might turn this into a part 2 with smut but idk lololol

[yanderegrizzsworld]

saw your post about taking digital circus content so may I request for Pomni or Ragatha or even Jax with a reader who's pretty calm when first entering in the digital circus and doesn't seem to mind everything else happening with how they're just like "hey, that's cool" basically they're pretty chill

Imagine: Platonic Yandere Pomni, Ragatha & Jax with a chill reader

TW/CW: Implied stalking & Mentions of Bullying

Pomni:

With Ragatha's reassurance, Pomni reckoned that everyone acted similarly to her upon their arrival to the Digital Circus. This did ease her perturbation, though not by much & far less upon your arrival to their Digital "home".

Are you alright? Complete & utter calmness is the last reaction the jester expects from a newcomer, yet reasons that you're probably seeking to assess your situation &/or keep focus. It's quite smart really, it means you're less likely to abstract in this world, such an easygoing attitude it quite a quick way to get her attached to you.

She'll strive to stick by you as much as possible, though is willing to give you your space if asked to as she wishes not to be regarded as chafing & will at most watch you from a distance. Expect her coming to you a lot whenever she seeks comfort from one of her paranoid episodes of searching for an exit, while Ragatha is very willing to be a nice shoulder to cry on, Pomni truly feels her anxious thoughts leave whenever she's in your presence & will progressively get more antsy the longer she can't find you in the circus.

Ragatha:

She reckons herself as the peacemaker of the group from being one of the oldest to be there, though one would be forgiven (& correct) for thinking that she seems quite close to losing it at any moment. From this, she always strives to ease newcomers to their new digital home, understanding how nerve-wracking it is.

Ragatha is chiefly clueless upon your arrival. Years of seeing new faces initially scared & addled to this world has made the ragdoll has grown accustomed to introducing the new performers, downplaying the existential dread of their circumstance, whether as so they don't abstract or so her own crisis doesn't get to her is up in the air. She takes her steps forward as she usually does to new people, but doesn't know what to properly say seeing as you're not freaking out about the situation.

Seeing her around you a lot is something you'd best get used to, whether it's a short, simple chat on how you're holding up or talking about nothing within the walls of the tent, getting Ragatha to leave is quite the task. She refuses to leave you alone with Jax, as in her eyes & years of being around him, he might chip away at your sanity, small at first but grows worse over time until it's too late, claiming she's somehow surprised someone hasn't abstracted because of him.

Jax:

Nobody's sure if Jax's frequent bullying is merely an aspect of who he is or his way of coping with living in the circus, it's doesn't matter either way, he won't give a luculent answer. Jax isn't one to comfort a new face, opting to hectoring them until Ragatha stops him towards causing the other's disquietude.

Your breezy attitude doesn't deter him from his usual antics, including said frolics being thrown at you. Your lack of reaction to the prank both throws off the lavender rabbit & bemuses him, just what goes through that head of yours? His motive shift from wanting a reaction from you to seeking to see what makes you tick, what you experienced to make you have the viewpoint that you do, that makes you merely laugh at your situation rather than panic.

Jax sees fit to insert himself into conversations without a need to explain himself & brushes off any questions thrown at him, every attempt to interrogate him tends to end with Jax dragging you off with him, maybe to not start an argument with Ragatha or Zooble or perhaps he got bored of the conversation, who knows what goes on in his head. Any thought of suspect for his behavior towards you is out his head a second later, you don't seem to mind so his mind discerns no issue with his comportment & is what Jax uses as an excuse, true reason for his frequent presence around you.

[planete777]

WHAT YOU HEARD・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n senselessly drags lando for a swim at midnight, high and all. she just forgets to mention they'll do it naked.

WARNINGS. 16+, smoking and getting high (don't do drugs yall, this is just for entertainment purposes!), make outs, night skinny dipping, mentions of sexual activities, once again high hotness

NOTE. back again with the high!lando agenda. something about it just gets my brain all scrambled. anyways, as i said, don't do drugs, listen to 'what you heard' by sonder, and enjoy luvs <3 (wondering if i should make this a series.....)

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando, or other tropes if u want. 🤍

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

even when he can't piece two cents of his thoughts to construct a legible sequence, lando is sure that, no matter the state he's in, y/n can persuade him to do whatever, as if her words were a siren's call. in his mind, she has this way of curling her tongue around every sentence she says, as if they're something so sweet, so good, and it beckons him closer, pathetically. yet, lando indulges in it like a fucking mad man, and every time he has to leave y/n, he finds himself itching for everything she makes him feel.

but, right here, right now, he'd rather lose himself in the swirling puffs of smoke that have him feeling he's levitating with it. sprawled on the girl's couch, legs and arms weightless and completely non existent, in a room that's so unsuspecting to delinquent dallying.

that's what makes him love her even more.

they're the same. from the wisp of their hairs to the tip of their toes, they both crave an escape from everything and everyone, and don't care how they get it. live a dual life of forced smiles to the world and adrenaline rushes from a drug that drains every feeling possible from their flesh, but could tip their lives on their heads without warning.

it's like their own little secret, and knows that if he were to tell anyone, they'd instantaneously talk him out of it. beg him that he could get hooked and spiral, yet he'll be damned if he allows himself to lose the only sanity he has with the girl that he's addicted to.

the breeze whispers on his skin, soothes it somewhat as the forecast had been cooler the whole day, and the spliff between his fingers remains an inch-long bud, incinerated away in mere hours. his eyes are ajar, just the tiniest bit, and remain trained on the open back sliding doors. watches as ripples glimmer and twinkle beneath the moon's shine upon the pool's surface and his mind undulates with the tentative viscosity of thick honey.

speakers drone whatever playlist y/n has chosen for the night, and he finds himself subconsciously tapping his fingers to the beat. nothing else but music needs to fill the room, each other's presence speaks for itself, and lando loves this unspoken normality between them.

he's on the brink of unconsciouness, rocking between the borders of sleep and awareness, but he's slowly justled awake as y/n walks up to him.

she gently grabs his arm, pulling him upright, "come."

his movements are slow and hesitant, "where we going?"

"swimming."

for a second his mind agrees, so he relents, but realising that he's wearing a tank top with jogging bottoms, and y/n the same but with leggings instead, he grows confused again.

he doesn't get time to question, mind too slow and sticky to even get further words out, as y/n lets go of his hand and turns to him.

then with speed that aches with tease, she tugs her top off, flinging it off to the side and lando stops breathing. he sees everything, how they curve and smooth back into the inward slope of her waist and he trembles so much that he has to clench his fist to urge it away. she's so beautiful drenched in blue, easing its way down her legs as she shrugs them off, and lando's eyes burn as they weld into every dip of her body.

"join me."

that's all she says, with that pretty smile on her face, before she swivels on her feet and dives into the water with much precision she barely marks a discrepancy upon the surface of the water. lando is hypnotised, barely moves from his place as she watches her glide and twirl in the water as if that's where she's meant to be, and then his body cries to join her.

it doesn't take long for him to hover next to y/n, right in the centre of the pool. the cool water washes some highness away, but they're both inebriated enough to retain the red glaze in their eyes and slow movements. lando's sick, seeing y/n so etheral in nothing, looking at him as if she wants him flowing through his veins, and he no longer fights the impulse to get closer and gather her in his arms. she smiles, wide and white, circling her arms around his neck before jumping on his waist. he fumbles slightly, with a huffed out laugh, then her thighs are tight around his hips and he can feel everything.

"you're hard already?" she asked, amused. her hand plays with the curls on his neck and he feels like he's dissolving.

"do you blame me? look at you."

"well," her finger traces his chest, light and completely burning, "we're not fucking in my pool."

he chuckles, figures cum is a hard thing to clean out of water, "at least let me eat you out?"

she pretends to think, "maybe later, but right now, i want you to fucking kiss me."

lando doesn't waste time doing so, lips pushing into hers with great urgency as if it's his last kiss on earth. y/n's mouth is wet, warm, sweet and so inherently y/n that lando moans, deep and loud, sliding his tongue deeper. it's not enough, not the kiss, nor the way her body radiates immense heat directly into his, and lando craves to be one with her. absorb into y/n, like a water to a sponge, and remain there forever.

air runs out, way too quickly for lando's liking, and y/n moves her head back, half closed eyes staring back at him. he's hot, bothered, hungry for so much more, and squeezes the flesh of her thighs to suppress just how much his flesh aches for her.

"i want to have you so bad," y/n sighs out, a splayed hand flush against lando's chest, and oh does he want her to completely take him. do whatever she wants, however she wants. he craves to say so much but his mind can only come up with so little.

"then fucking have me, y/n."

[arsenysworld]

Leslie:

"So...how’s everything going? Relationship-wise?"

Y/N:

"Great. We just planned our funerals last week."

April:

"It’s gonna be a joint event. He’s dying first, obviously."

Y/N:

"If we stick to the script. But if I find the Philosopher's Stone first—"

Donna:

"Pause. Rewind. Y’all planned funerals? Together?"

April:

"Yeah, you gotta think ahead. Like, are we going for black roses or ash-dyed succulents? And who’s giving the eulogy? I’m thinking Ron."

Y/N:

"He’d just grunt and say, ‘He was fine,’ which is exactly what I’d want."

The gang exchanges confused looks, already regretting the invitation. Meanwhile, April and Y/N are now bickering over whether to have their ashes scattered in space or turned into decorative plates.

Tom (to Donna, whispering):

"Are we watching a rom-com or a Tim Burton biopic?"

Donna:

"Both. And I’m loving it."

Midway through dinner, Y/N suddenly turns to April with exaggerated seriousness.

Y/N:

"If you could only save me or your cat in a zombie apocalypse, who would it be?"

April (without hesitation):

"Chairman Meow. Obviously."

Y/N:

"Fair. I’d do the same. He’s a better fighter than I’ll ever be."

April leans in and kisses him softly, whispering, "But I’d still miss you, you dork."

The gang is stunned silent for a moment before Tom breaks it.

Tom:

"Okay, I’m calling it: this is the weirdest love story of all time."

Leslie:

"And somehow...it works?"

Ben:

"Should we be happy for them or scared of them?"

Donna:

"Both. Definitely both."

The night ends with Y/N and April dragging the gang into a pointless debate about Star Wars sequels vs. prequels, cackling the whole time while everyone else questions their sanity.

The next day, the gang reflects on what they’ve witnessed.

Leslie (to camera):

"I think I understand April and Y/N now. They’re like two puzzle pieces that don’t fit with anything else...but somehow, they fit perfectly with each other. It’s weird. It’s kind of beautiful. But mostly weird."

Cut to April and Y/N at her desk, sharing a plate of tater tots and laughing about some obscure internet meme no one else gets.

Ron (grumbling):

"Love is weird. Now, can everyone stop talking so I can finish carving this canoe?"

@jacenradio7 @6rookie-writer0110 @fandomnerd9602 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @amphibiahawks321

Hope you like it!