#i see them as friends but i could also see them having a thing

[sharlsworld]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ my best friends brother - 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔 ✴︎

（ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ）𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗎𝗉 𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋

note ✫ i imagined her to be 22 idk sorry i love a good age gap also my first charles smau!!

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,175,903 others

yn “let’s go for a ride on the boat it’ll be fun”

charles_leclerc Did you or did you not have fun?

⤷ yn you almost flung me off the boat when you had to swerve out of the way of the rock

⤷ charles_leclerc And I apologized for making you bite your tongue on accident bug can we please move past that?

⤷ yn you broke my hairbrush trying to detangle my hair

⤷ charles_leclerc And I ordered you a new hairbrush bug can we please move past that as well?

⤷ sharls_lerklerk charles calling her bug is something very dear to me

arthur_leclerc “It’s not gonna be like last time guys I’ve learned from my mistakes”

⤷ jade_dishtinguinn poor arthur got water boarded for the second this month 😭

⤷ user1634445581 i would never let my bf have a girl best friend

⤷ yn I literally introduced them??

lorenzotl Charles trying to recreate the titanic

⤷ yn always needs the attention on him 🙄 (i’ll give him attention)

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

estiebestie charles finally acknowledging y/n’s crush on him will always be my favorite thing

charles_leclerc Face card never declines

⤷ yn omg u slut 🙂‍↕️

forzacharles why is charles trying to recreate the jack and rose scene with y/n??

⤷ yn my exact thoughts like we just gon keep playing eye tag or you gonna holla at ur boy? 😤

⤷ arthur_leclerc dis gur

alex_albon wait your like kinda giving mermaid turned human vibes??

⤷ lilymhe no I see your vision

lando the money i would pay to see that boat ride

⤷ charles_leclerc You wanna go for a boat ride??? 😄 No one wants to go with me anymore…not even y/n it’s lowkey making me depressed

⤷ lando um no i kinda hope to live to see my next birthday or whatever

⤷ yn you’re such a copy cat you wanna be different so bad but you’ll never be different

⤷ lando ???

⤷ yn don’t ??? me fattie you know you hella wrong for what you did

🝮

charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton and 3,972,124 others

charles_leclerc I am hopelessly in love

arthur_leclerc am I tweaking

leclerc_pascale We know son ❤️

francisca.cgomes i thought you were gay for max and carlos? like aren’t you guys a throuple or something

⤷ charles_leclerc that’s common knowledge i fear

charles_leclerc NONONO I TOOK A NAP AND SHE TOOK MY PHONE

⤷ yn HAHAHAHAH

⤷ arthur_leclerc Did you send charles this picture so you could post it 😭

⤷ yn no he already had it in his camera roll

⤷ lordperceval 😦?? i need to see more

charles_leclerc IT WASNT ME GUYS I DIDNT POST THIS

charles_leclerc I AM NOT IN A THROUPLE WITH CARLOS OR MAX GUYS PLEASE BELIEVE ME

danielricciardo Damn bro that is a beautiful picture it really captures her essence

maxverstappen1 Why don’t you capture my damn essence like this?

lorenzotl How did she even get into your phone?

⤷ charles_leclerc She deleted my face from it in like 2021 and added hers

⤷ lorenzotl Why didn’t you delete it?

⤷ charles_leclerc I don’t know how

⤷ lorenzotl Why didn’t you look it up?

⤷ charles_leclerc This conversation is over

⤷ arthur_leclerc So you’ve been manually typing in your password for 4 years cause you don’t wanna delete her Face ID from your phone?

⤷ charles_leclerc This conversation is over

francolapinto raw, next question

⤷ yn 😨😰😥😏

⤷ charles_leclerc No

arthur_leclerc Guys I think I swallowed to much ocean water my stomach hurts

⤷ oscarpiastri google said you have 3 days idk

🝮

yn

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,213,856 others

yn scheming how to make my best friends brother fall madly in love with me

francisca.cgomes y/n searching up “love spells” on tik tok

arthur_leclerc y/n is probably doing some weird dance around a bunch of candles in the shape of a heart with charles leclerc edits playing on her tv and ipad rn

⤷ yn are you fucking watching me through my windows or something damn

charlotte2304 She just ordered a bag of rose quartz guys

hoeforsainzzz charles wants her so bad he’s just trying to play hard to get fr

⤷ yn bro wants to play the long game 🙂‍↕️

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

lecult_4lyfe y/n is the most loyal person ever

alex_albon Omg let me help I’ll show you stuff I did to get lily to date me

⤷ lilymhe ???

⤷ alex_albon Girl I’m a mastermind

sharls.eclair we know she ain’t lying either

oscarpiastri I wish I knew all the lore on this crush

⤷ georgerussell63 Omg I’ll make a PowerPoint

⤷ lando great you’ve brought out powerpoint george thanks a lot oscar. thanks a lot.

🝮

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55 and 2,621,904 others

charles_leclerc training camp, part 2. 😘

yn no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, on the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being held against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

⤷ charles_leclerc i meannn….

⤷ yn you want me so bad

⤷ charles_leclerc i meannnnnn……

⤷ yn OMG HE WANTS ME SO BAD GUYS

arthur_leclerc I can’t believe i just read that

maxverstappen1 Oh my fuck I feel like I just got assaulted or something

lando i need to bathe myself in bleach

lewishamilton Wow that was freaky even for me

oscarpiastri I’m gonna call my mom and tell her I love her

🝮

yn

liked by lando and 2,237,713 others

yn guess who

charles_leclerc Wait

charles_leclerc What the fuck

charles_leclerc Are you serious

charles_leclerc Is this real

charles_leclerc Did you get hacked?

charles_leclerc Who is that

charles_leclerc Bug who is that

charles_leclerc Please stop bug

charles_leclerc Is this is a joke?

charles_leclerc STOP IS THIS REAL ARE YOU SERIOUS IS THIS AN ACTUAL DATE???????

charles_leclerc SOMEBODY ANSWER ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc WHY ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME

charles_leclerc BUG PLEASE I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA GET MARRIED PLEASE

charles_leclerc I KNOW IVE PLAYED HARD TO GET BUT I’VE LIKED YOU SINCE YOU WERE LIKE 19 AND I KNOW THATS WEIRD CAUSE I WAS 26 BUT I COULDNT HELP IT YOU CANT FIGHT LOVE

charles_leclerc BUG PLEASE IVE LITERALLY HAD YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING HIDDEN IN MY FUCKING SOCK DRAWER FOR A YEAR PLEASE

charles_leclerc PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE YOU WERE ALWAYS GONNA BE MY WIFE

charles_leclerc AH FUCK IM GONNA DIE ALONE

charles_leclerc oh my gosh i missed my chance didn’t i?

charles_leclerc i waited to long

charles_leclerc Didn’t even get to hit that

⤷ arthur_leclerc Oh my gosh charles you sicko you’re a fuckin perv 😂😂🫵🏽

⤷ charles_leclerc shut up arthur now’s not the time

charles_leclerc Who is it I’ll kill him

charles_leclerc It’s the haircut isn’t it??? I told maman she cut it to short

charles_leclerc OHHH MY SHAYLA

charles_leclerc please bug i was gonna marry you i swear so bad i literally had it all planned out

charles_leclerc YOURE MY END AND MY BEGINNING EVEN WHEN I LOSE IM WINNING CAUSE I GIVE YOU AALLLLLLLL OF ME TO YOU

charles_leclerc I always thought Ferrari would be the reason I ended myself but it’s this

⤷ yn nooo don’t kill yourself your so sexy aha

⤷ charles_leclerc OH SO NOW YOU GOT JOKES? ARE YOU OR ARE YOU NOT CHEATING ON ME WITH SOME UGLY ASS SKANK?

⤷ lando who tf are you calling a ugly ass skank?

⤷ charles_leclerc YOU WENT A DATE WITH LANDO FUCKING NORRIS???

⤷ lando girl there ain’t no one in the world that can resist this fine ass honey mhmmmm

⤷ charles_leclerc ok gay ass go kiss on carlos or something fucking slut

⤷ yn oh my gosh charles i’ve never seen this side of you 🙂‍↕️

⤷ charles_leclerc are you or are you not cheating on me with lando fucking norris?

⤷ yn daddy chill

⤷ yn it was all apart of my plan you made it to easy

⤷ yn i’ve never seen you cuss so much

lando we just seen charles leclerc crashing out over his little brothers best friend guys this is a historical moment for us chayn shippers

⤷ arthur_leclerc This is gonna be taught in history classes in the future bro trust

charles_leclerc What the fuck I was just manipulated into confessing my crush on my little brothers best friend to the entire world

alex_albon chayn shippers rise

⤷ lando risen ☝️

⤷ georgerussell63 risen ☝️

⤷ danielricciardo risen ☝️

⤷ liamlawson30 risen ☝️

⤷ charles_leclerc This is exactly who I thought would be apart this club fucking losers

⤷ lando this is how you treat loyal fans? i’m not showing the edits we made now

⤷ charles_leclerc Show it to me pleaseeee send it to me Rachel 😔

⤷ lando why is charles leclerc lowkey turning into a pathetic little bitch boy?

⤷ charles_leclerc What the fuck did I do to you?

⤷ lando you called me a fucking ugly ass skank

⤷ charles_leclerc bruh it was a joke it was just in the heat of the moment

⤷ lando i don’t want to hear your excuses 🙄🤚

🝮

yn

liked by zendaya and 3,916,447 others

yn i’m a mastermind

francolapinto tears in my latina eyes

⤷ francolapinto oh shit wait

arthur_leclerc my favorite panther

⤷ yn 🐆🐆 (i know it’s a cheetah shut up)

francisca.cgomes i know that’s right

lilymhe I’m proud, truly

carlossainz55 Peter…how are you doing that

leclerc_pascale My prayers have been answered

pierregasly Great get married now

⤷ yn let’s have a double wedding

⤷ francisca.cgomes omg lets do it

charles_leclerc bugs school of manifestation

⤷ yn a masterclass

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

danielricciardo This is in fact a love story

alex_albon younger me is probably so shook rn

⤷ lando 21 year old me is flabbergasted rn

maxverstappen1 Damn what spells are you using

⤷ yn you’ll never know 🤫🤫

lorenzotl I’ve never seen him look so free

⤷ yn this was kinda poetic lowk

oscarpiastri I can see the future

carlossainz55 Dreams do come true ig

lewishamilton damn girl teach me your ways

sharls_lerklerk what’s 4 + 4??

estiebestie i need to know what that damn dance looked liked cause wtf

🝮

charles_leclerc

liked by tomholland2013 and 4,455,813 others

charles_leclerc she bamboozled me

yn omg you want me so bad

⤷ charles_leclerc I do want you so bad

⤷ yn my pants were JUST on i swear

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

yn 7 year old me is bouncing off walls rn

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

lando you’re welcome i was part of that plan

⤷ charles_leclerc ugly ass skank

arthur_leclerc seriously just get married you already admitted to having the ring

⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah I can’t believe I just told the whole world that

⤷ lando cause you were being pathetic you bitch

⤷ georgerussell63 Omg loving this beef let’s keep this energy in the new season ❤️

⤷ f1 Let’s not ❤️

alex_albon Cute or whateva

carlossainz55 This calls for celebration! Let’s party like there’s no tomorrow

⤷ yn damn how are things at williams?

⤷ alex_albon excuse me i’ll have you know that he was chugging down coffee and munching on all the food did they not feed him at ferrari?

⤷ f1 Let’s not ❤️

alex_albon So as president of chayn club I will be accepting a check for my undying support over the years

⤷ georgerussell63 and i as vice president

⤷ lando and i as the founder

⤷ danielricciardo and i as secretary

⤷ liamlawson30 and i as treasurer

⤷ charles_leclerc I hope your hungry…for nothing

⤷ lando girl you thought you ate that 😒 i want our checks by the end of the week or i’m never sending you our edits

⤷ charles_leclerc be expecting mail in the next few days ❤️

[luvergirl-866]

dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated, esp bc this is not edited) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin’ with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. “Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

[melminli]

what would it be like to be in a romantic relationship with cho hyun-ju? l headcanons

short summery - a few scenarios about dating the one and only, cho hyun-ju! (w/ fem!reader)

a/n: i’m not a trans person so i obviously can't know what that feels like, but i also never want to ignore that part when writing smth w/ her since it's an integral part of her identity! lmk if there ever is something that i should fix!

dating hyun-ju would probably have to happen either before her transition or quite a while after because she just wouldn't be in the right headspace to meet someone new during the early stages of all that change. it just would be a period in her life where she needs a lot of space and time for herself, so romantic relationships would definitely not be one of her priorities.

however, dating hyun-ju before she starts her transition would give you both several options on how to manage this step in your relationship. firstly, you would have to think about your sexuality a bit, if you haven't already done so. especially, if you would still want to be with her! it would obviously be difficult for hyun-ju to finally decide to come out to you because she loved you and didn't want to risk losing you, but of course, she would still respect any decision you made! sometimes you just have to let go of the things you love, even though it would break her heart if you decided to stay friends. but, either way, she was glad that she could trust you with this!

dating hyun-ju after she came out to you would lead to you helping her as much as you could through the steps of feeling more comfortable in her body and standing by her side after losing family and friends. you were ready for her to share her mental problems and more with you, so that you could support her, but hyun-ju would try to burden you as little as possible with all that stuff. having you by her side was enough for her and she also just didn't like complaining to the one person who made her forget about all the negative things in her life. so, maybe after a while, you two would agree that she should try therapy! it would be something that could reinforce her in a way that she felt more comfortable with when it came to her problems, and it would help her tell you about some things in a way that wouldn't overwhelm you or her.

dating hyun-ju would generally mean that you would always feel safe by her side, not only because she was a very understanding person and a good listener - but also because she was well aware of her own physical strength! there was a time when she was very ashamed of it and it wasn't her fault that society didn't consider muscles and stuff to be 'feminine', but you didn't want her to dislike herself for something that you loved about her. so, you did some research and discovered some great female personal trainers, wrestlers, and the like to show them to her! self esteem wasn't something that could be built overnight, but seeing other women who were like her and confident should still help somehow, right? besides, you two eventually started being fans of these people!

dating hyun-ju would mean that she would unconsciously take care of you in different ways. whether that meant taking you out somewhere or cooking for the two of you. honestly, you would have a hard time returning the favor because hyun-ju would insist that she liked giving more than taking, but she also deserved to sit back and relax sometimes! so, there would be more moments over time when she would let you take the lead and let herself get spoiled a bit.

dating hyun-ju would involve, that you only had to mention something you liked in a conversation once for her to buy it for you. she's pretty observant when it comes to things like that!

dating hyun-ju would mean that when you went to bed at night, you would often have long pillow talks until one of you fell asleep. the length of the conversations always varied, of course, but you both especially cherished the time on days when you were recovering from a busy week. you would just lie close to each other for quite a while, whispering quiet things to each other while the nightlight was on, and find comfort in each other's presence.

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀vacations w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: you’re having a summer dinner with your family and friends, but caleb gets angry at an old gossipy lady ( ｡ •` ⤙´• ｡)

tw: reader is implied to be smaller than caleb, reader is very feminine, dumbification, slurs like ‘whore’, possessive!caleb, stepcest, manipulation, dark romance, usage of ‘gege’ and ‘big brother’, slightly inspired by the movie ‘call me by your name’, caleb is kinda aggressive not towards reader tho, etc.

there was this tradition running in your family where you would move to your summer villa for the whole summer season, inviting some of your parents' friends over as well; needless to say, your step brother was also included in the plan.

you were always excited about these, being able to wear your a little too short summer dresses in front of your big brother without question to every dinner, adoring giving yourself a cute look for caleb to see, only wanting to be pretty for your big brother ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

this night was nothing different, you wore this pale pink sundress that left little to the imagination along with some other pink accessories, wearing the necklace he gifted you; you never took it off.

every night your housemaid would set up the long and old wooden table in the patio with refreshing food, all the people in the villa gathering to spend time together after their tiring activities in the beach. you sat in front of caleb as usual, feeling his warm palm rest in the fat of your thigh and caressing it with his thumb in circular motions.

he loved to stare at your angelic-like features while talking about whatever thing you were talking about with your aunt, sometimes forgetting that the rest of your family was there and that he had to keep appearances to any curious eyes.

⠀⠀　　“so, caleb?” he turns his head way too fast at his name being called, getting out of the trance he got caught on by staring at your red plump lips. “how are you doing with your studies?” a friend from your parents asks, he didn’t even know her name.

⠀⠀　　“mmh, well, all good. gotta study more than expected but she helps me with that, I have a hard time focusing, you know…” he answers with a boyish smile and tender voice, pinching your skin when pronouncing your name.

⠀⠀　　“yeah! gege is working really hard for this career, and i try to help him as much as i can” you voice an answer in a sweet tone, him knowing the reality of this said help.

⠀⠀　　“i see, you two seem really close, if i didn’t know you i’d think you ar—”, “well, that cuts it for tonight i’m afraid” your mother intervenes, knowing how annoying her friend gets regarding this topic. they even argued several times about how your relationship should be checked on since it looked very inappropriate from the outside, but she refused to listen, being a blind believer on your innocent sister-brother interactions, thinking caleb it’s just very clingy and protective about you.

a fierce blush creeps onto your cherub cheeks, feeling embarrassed at anyone questioning your relationship with your gege.

wasn’t it normal, having your big brother hold you for way too long, getting kissed on the lips before going to sleep or even helping you with the strange ache between your thighs when he rubbed himself against you to keep you warm at night?

he made sure to keep you away from anything or anyone vulgar, wanting to cherish your pure mind and thoughts for himself to slowly corrupt, carefully making you believe that good girls don’t go out with boys, don’t kiss anyone but their big brothers and reaching him to ask for help regarding any small issue a normal person could take care of themselves, but not you. you were too stupid ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

and just like that, he made you his little doll for him and him alone, emptying your silly head from anyone but him. you depended on him for anything.

your nipples got hard in the winter? don’t worry, he will slowly rub them while you sat on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, just to keep you warm. whispering sweet nothings to you while leaving wet kisses along your neck, smiling to himself when listening to your adorable whimpers. he had to use every single trace of self control to not break your puffy pussy in two right there.

he actually never properly fucked you, just played with you like adults do (..◜ᴗ◝..) nothing wrong with that, right?

you wanted to help him focus on his homework? you knew how easily distracted your gege could get and you just wanted to help! (•ᴖ•｡) so he told you to get on your knees, making sure it was on top of some soft cushion, and commanded you to start pampering small kisses on his bulge. just like the ones you gave him all over the face when you were happy to see him ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

so you kept your hands on your lap like the good girl you were to approach his big bulge hiding under his grey sweatpants, leaving sweet little smoochies all over his prince's parts (as he called yours your princess’s parts), and leaving light traces of saliva on the way.

just a few minutes like that, completely focused on the task your gege gave you to please him as you always wanted, and he came undone fully clothed. you looked up at him trough your long lashes, surprised to see that creamy liquid stain his pants, the same one he made you lick from his fingers sometimes before (⁠ᗒ⩊ᗕ ྀི)

he can’t help but laugh fondly at your expression, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb into your mouth, feeling how you wrapped your warm tongue against the pad of his finger.

now you were both heading to your shared bedroom, the inside of the villa specially silent since everybody else stayed outside, smoking and updating on the latest gossips while drinking the leftover wine.

caleb was mad, how dare that bitch even think about questioning you two? he knew what was best for you, he was your shiny armor knight, your big brother who would always protect you. what was wrong with that?

your tiny heels clicked trough the long and empty halls, chasing after caleb as your short legs could; he was stomping, and he was truly angry.

you never saw him so mad ever since he caught you watching some filthy porn a friend of yours sent you when you told her that you didn’t do that kind of thing since your brother told you to not to. needless to say, he made sure to beat her up real good so she wouldn’t get any close to you, ever. but you didn’t need to know what he did, he’s just protecting you! (づ_ど)

once you catch up with him inside the said bedroom you pout, playing with the lacy hem of your dress as you close the door behind you. he’s sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his head between his hands as he takes deep breaths. he had to take care of that whore later, noted.

⠀⠀　　“gege? what’s wrong? did i do something bad?” you inquisitively ask, taking careful steps to stand before him, still playing around with your clothes in a nervous manner.

no answer from him, just a deep breath and a big pair of hands holding the back of your thighs to bring you closer, burying his face in the plush of your belly while featherly kissing it.

⠀⠀　　“no, doll, you did nothing wrong.” he blurs out against the soft fabric of your dress. “it’s just mom’s friend, she made me angry.” you feel his hands creep closer to your ass, holding yourself onto his broad shoulders.

you knew caleb didn’t like the questioning of your relationship, he liked to keep things private, a secret only for you two. your silly head couldn’t find an answer, what were you supposed to say when his skilled fingers removed your cottony panties down and he kept his pinkish gaze on you like that?

⠀⠀　　“you’re mine, pips, you know everything i do is for your own good.” you knew it, that old lady’s words meant nothing to you. “what would you do without me, hmm?”

you heard the side zipper of the dress and before you know it, you’re fully naked in front of him. it’s not the first time, but you can’t help feeling a little ashamed. he’s so perfect, tall and fit, and you don’t match his toned body.

you cross your arms in front of your breasts, hiding your blushing face underneath your hair, feeling his hand once again come up to your chin to lift it up while the other one holds your wrists a little bit too hard.

⠀⠀　　“don’t dare hiding from me, princess, you know I love the sight.” he confesses in a breath, restarting the trail of kisses from your soft belly down to your pubes, rubbing the tip of his nose against the little hairs.

you can’t help but whine, readjusting your hands on top of his head, caressing his soft dark locks trough your slim fingers. “gege, don’t do that, you know it feels achy.” you complain in a peachy voice.

he falls on blind ears, paying all of his attention to your princess’s parts, making you separate your legs by holding your inner thighs before lowering his head to clit level, smothering the growing bud with open-mouthed kisses.

he slowly toyed with your dripping entrance, circling the ring muscle with his index finger while paying attention to your pearl, lost in the sweet and sour flavor of yours. “fuck, doll, what do I have to do to make everyone understand that you’re my good girl, hmm?”

you don’t even listen to him, too caught up in the sensation of said finger caressing your velvety walls, throwing your head back while you pushed your hips closer to his face, letting out an adorable moan when feeling a second one peeking in.

⠀⠀　　“i see, you’re too stupid to answer that.” he said in a condescending way, fucking you with his long fingers slow but deep, even biting your clit at times. “don’t you see you need me to do everything for you?” one harsh thrust, reaching that gummy spot. “to tie your shoes, to wash your hair, even to dress you up in the morning?”

you were a moaning mess, your hair falling like a cascade at your back and sticking to your sweaty forehead, your toes curling at the way his skilled fingers toyed with your weak spot, feeling how he curved them inside you, that strange sensation knotting in your belly. “gege, i feel weird again, stop, stop” the tears in the corner of your eyes fall away to your neck.

⠀⠀　　“let go f’me, angel, you know your big brother likes it.” and he loved it, the taste of your juices, sweet enough to be addictive. before you realize you were creaming his fingers, feeling a strong arm wrap around your waist to keep you from falling. “good girl, you did so good for me”.

his murmurs fall quiet when he laps at your pussy to take every single drop of you in his mouth, moaning at the taste. your head falls on top of his, trying to catch your breath while he wraps you with both arms and lifts you up, heading to the bathroom to clean you up.

he first washed your sweaty body and clothed you with one of his huge t shirts, you falling asleep mid-bath and him taking you to bed carefully, making sure you were comfortable before taking care of his hard dick and rubbing himself against your discarded panties, staining them with cum not many minutes later (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

he threw them inside one of his designated drawers and hugged your smaller frame into his naked chest, drifting to sleep.

your big brother loved you so so much!

a/n: let me know if you liked it, i want feedback! also, idk if this was too long, i got carried away hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[takes1]

Hiii, I love all ur fics sm! Ur literally so talented omgg

I wanted to request a fic where Oikawa and short/academically inclined reader are friends with benefits. I think it would be fun to see them get jealous and tiptoe around their feelings for each other since they don’t wanna ruin what they have. Can it also be nsfw and could u add some angst pls? Thank youu!

f*cking jealous!oikawa in secret

hi! thank you so much!! hope this interpretation is alright!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / short!reader / jealous!oikawa / popular x loser trope / jock x nerd trope / tutor!reader / subby-switch!oikawa / switch!reader / oikawa with a nerd fetish / needy!oikawa towards the end / kind of hate fucking? / oikawa being mean / riding / implied oral / fluff, angst, and smut / reader with glasses / 1.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines

"You're sooo lucky to tutor him, (Y/n),"

Your hopeless friend sighed, scrolling through Oikawa's Instagram for the upteenth time.

"I'd give anything to spend that much time alone with him."

It was a little creepy, but you loved her. Other girls fawning over your secret fuck-buddy was something you had to -begrudgingly- get used to. It pained you more when it was somebody so close, but nothing was worth coming clean about it.

The last thing you needed during senior year was a target on your back.

"Oh, he's such a prick!" You wave her off and grab your drink from the café counter with a smaller, pleasant, 'Thank you.'

The table was more of a C-curved booth that your group had to shimmy into. The shape made it hard to get in and out of, rather serving as an ultra-cozy prison to focus on your studies, your caffeine, and your snacks.

As a way of not letting you off the hook so easily- your friends cracked open their notes, laptops, textbooks, while entertaining the 'absurd' idea that any of you could actually date Johsai's least eligible bachelor.

A bunch of star-students with decorated academic achievements was the only impressive thing about the patrons at your favorite, quiet, coffee house. With- maybe-- the exception of money in eyeglass prescriptions, or luxurious stationery that decorated the table.

Your voice stood as the most displeased, the most troubled, of the discussion. You flipped through the chapters, halfway forgetting what page you needed to be on, because you got caught up in his shortcomings.

"He doesn't listen- he takes my hours away from people who might actually need it- he's, obviously, got the biggest ego I've ever seen--, Oh- hold up."

It was a struggle to flip to your page and rummage around your pocket for your buzzing phone.

"Well, I'm glad somebody's got some common sense-," Was the only guy in your group, disgruntled at all the Oikawa-talk.

Oikawa's name flashed across your screen. Your body seized and you hugged it to your chest.

"Woah!"

"You good?"

"I'm just--gonna take this outside," You cleared your throat and sank all the way to the floor, crawling over shoes and bags from under the table to get far away from your friends.

It was on the second-to-last ring by the time you hurried outside. You hated him for many things, but the wind picked up, spraying a chilly mist all over your clothes, and you couldn't help but associate him with the feeling. Your hoodie was still inside, forgotten in your haste.

"What? I'm busy right now." You spat, shivering already.

"Don't fog your glasses up, princess."

His easy, light tone particularly bothered you. You groaned.

"Get to the point, pretty boy, I'm busy--,"

"I know. I just called to say you should stop talking about me. Reads as a bit... obsessive, don't you think?"

The breath you took to poke a hole in his 'obsessive' argument gave way to nothing- except a silent realization.

"You're- where are you?"

You squinted at the dark window, but it was one-way.

Oikawa watched you turn to the parking lot, smirking, from inside the cafe.

He sighed, a real airy, fake one; the one he knew you loved to hear from him in bed.

His voice was lower, closer to the receiver. "I thought you said you were busy?"

The audacity to call you obsessive, mixing with the adrenaline his sudden proximity shot into your system. You pressed 'end call.'

When you re-entered the cafe, you spotted him immediately. He was walking back to his booth, one away from yours, from the restrooms. Though you both saw each other, there was hardly an indication that you knew one another at all, thanks to so much practice.

It was, still, hard to watch him slide into a seat right next to some other girl.

So, he heard you talking shit about him while on a date, then left her to go call you? You rejoined your booth, and spared a mean glance over at him, like the absolute garbage he was. He returned it with lesser intensity.

-

You'd think, with his cock in your hand, he wouldn't bring up the events of that morning. It put him in a less-than ideal position.

"Y'knoww,"

He hadn't said anything yet, but your eyes were rolling. Used to the attitude, and equipped with a firm point to make, he continued:

"You should ditch- ahh, that little loser in your little friend group."

A little roll of your hips had him wincing- spreading the slickness all across his dick, from all the work he had put in, already.

You cocked your head at him, "Oh, yeah?"

Oikawa's eyes rolled back into his skull, a groan at how hot you looked, grinding on him. You were his perfect, nerdy little secret. He specifically wanted you to keep your glasses on today. It was a thing. You didn't understand it in its entirety, but it likely had a connection to the reason why he opted for a lowkey arrangement.

"And you should ditch that shallow whore--,"

"Oh my god!" He gasped, surprised to hear such a thing uttered from your mouth, "Fuuuck you're so jealous-!"

"Me?"

It was completely unfair and utter bullshit that he acted like his jealousy was nonexistent. To him, only you could get out of your pay grade. He pretended to forget that the only reason you were fucking multiple times a week was because he 'needed' you so bad. You felt a little exploited.

"That's so hot-aughhh!"

His big, strong hands were forcing your cunt against his slippery, thick cock, since you wouldn't move quite right.

"M-mmh-! Tha-t's-," You struggled, voice breaking, hands against his muscular chest, "Not- mh, fair."

Your textbooks, his assignment due in 40 minutes, were neglected on the floor across his bedroom. Your tutoring was basically roleplay. It turned him on as soon as you got to talking about the relevant class material, telling him that the work he had already done was wrong.

It turned you on too, to an extent. You liked that you got him stiff without trying, without touching. You loved when he pretended like he wasn't, but bounced his leg right next to yours, cleared his throat before every response, got caught staring like some depraved creature.

You were exactly his type. He was the hottest guy you'd ever met. Something had to give.

"I- ah, don't wanna--," He fucked you hard, like you had a ring on your finger, "See you talk to that loser again."

He couldn't stand the threat of being second place. A guy with such a precious ego needed to feel like you wouldn't leave him. While your social structure may have harbored the suggestion that this would be the case, it wasn't an accurate representation of your feelings.

The whimper lacing his voice grew as you placed a firm hand around his throat.

"Don't- date- other girls." You threatened through gritted teeth and bitten-back moan.

It was just your luck that the most ridiculous peacock of a man would have such a great dick, give you such great head, that you couldn't live and let this fucked-up situationship die. The timer of the semester ticked away, standing as an informal end to it, so neither of you had the gall to cut things off before you needed to.

He whined under your touch, bottoming out hard, keeping himself as deep as he could get.

The lonely bastard draped his arms around you and pulled you close.

"Mmh- you know I gotta- h-ah, keep up appearances for us, princess," His quiet mutter, spilled across your shoulder, forced a shiver down your spine.

His sheets smelled just like him.

You loosened your grip and decided to play with his soft, lush locks, taking in his scent, his touch- that feeling. Like you were his, but not in some twisted, shameful way.

You wanted one of his shirts but it wasn't that simple.

For the moment, you chased the dream, while he was still gentle and peppering you in kisses.

Maybe in some perfect world, he would let go of his status, be a little less weird about your intelligence, and you could have a boyfriend instead of a glorified dildo.

He sounded close, so you fucked him back, hand back on his throat; you wondered how many girls would be disappointed to know that Oikawa Tohru didn't last very long in bed.

"You wanna cum, pretty boy?"

A wince at your rough, loaded kiss. His grip was iron, his strength speaking enough for how mute you got him.

It was so quiet, so pitiful: "Pl-ease,"

God, he looked so cute all fucked-out. He only looked at you like that. Like he never wanted you to leave, like he couldn't breathe without you around him, like you weren't just friends with benefits.

Too bad you were just some freaky nerd-fetish.

He pulled out and you sat, buzzed, on his drained cock, more than satisfied with the sight of cum all over his stomach.

When you pushed up your fallen glasses, his cock twitched accordingly and reminded you of the only reason you existed to him at all.

Kissing, cleaning up, cuddling, all of the winding down was still commonplace between you. He wanted attention, you wanted time to chill before you had to go home. He even made it difficult to get dressed and out the door.

Today, he kept his arms around your waist when you attempted to get up, after 20 minutes of cuddling.

"Pleaaase stay," He whined, unable to hold you as firm as he wanted for fear he would hurt you.

You smiled.

"I need to study more tonight."

"Study here!" He pouted.

Right. Then this would happen all over again- because as soon as he would see a pencil between your teeth, he'd try to replace it with his cock.

"Really study," You pried his fingers off and got dressed.

He watched for a time, but needed to assert himself more in order to feel like he wasn't useless, or forgettable. He joined to get dressed, too, and kept a close eye on your seemingly unbothered expression.

"I'm sorry for cursing at you."

It was so unimportant that you had no idea what he was talking about.

"It's okay," Rolled off your tongue, fast.

Oikawa got twitchy. His sly attempts at dragging out your departure slipped through his fingers like sand.

"Let me help you with that," His unprompted kiss to your forehead, along with his gentle gathering of your things, left you a bit dazed.

You fixed your hair- hesitant to look at him.

"Thank you."

He insisted, like usual, to walk you home. You sighed and posed the same argument, the way you had for the past month. People would notice if you were together in any capacity. Rumors would start.

When he was done packing your books up, he was touchier, and hung over you like a cat rubbing itself all over your ankles as you walked to the door.

You rationalized that it had to be your glasses. It gave him some sort of kick. He barely let you out of his bedroom, let alone his house.

You forgot to ask for a shirt, but... maybe next time?

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis Ch2/P2

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

(much love to @fadinggalaxysalad for the idea of Kon considering his own logo)

Picking out a lunch box was surprisingly hard. It said so much about a person.

Jon's was a Robin lunch box, because of course it was. Though Kon very much doubted that Damian's was a Superboy one (especially since it wouldn't be a Superboy the Second one). Kon’s own was a simple black one that he has been doodling on all year with a silver sharpie.

Maybe predictively, school was full of lunch boxes of superheroes, pop stars, geometric colors, and semi-abstract artsy patterns. Anything deemed not too “kiddy”. Eliminating the kiddy things on the shelf didn't get Kon very far. His own logo caught his eye, sitting innocently on the shelf among the Justice League heroes.

It was a little tempting. The thought of Danny carrying around his symbol through school every day brought a flush to Kon’s cheeks.

But there was no was he was going deal with the teasing from his family for that choice.

He moved away from that area of the shelves, because he wasn't going to get Danny any other superhero's symbol either, and continued on down to the abstract section. It was small and Kon was ready to rule it out until he saw it: a mostly black bag with a stylized set of stars on it. It was a little like Kon's own bag without actually matching in a way he could be teased about. It also felt very Danny somehow.

Kon grabbed the bag before he could over think it and went to finish up the rest of the list he'd been given since he was going out anyways.

-

Danny was already at the table, head buried into his crossed arms. The rest of their table was still empty. It made it easier to walk over and set the new lunch box down in front of Danny, close enough to bump his arms.

After a beat, Danny turned enough to peer at the bag with one shadowed eye. “What's that?"

“Your lunch,” Kon said with every bit of calmness he could muster. He sat down across from Danny and put his own bag on the table.

He'd drawn a new monster in the bottom right corner during math.

“My… lunch…,” Danny repeated slowly. “I… don't have a lunch?”

“Yes you do, it's right there.”

“What.”

“Lunch, you, there, eat.”

“You Kronk,” Danny replied instantly, as if on instinct. He blinked like he was rebooting. “I'm sorry, how do I have a lunch?”

“Because my dad packed you one.”

Danny slowly reached out to poke at the bag. “…right. Why did your dad pack me a lunch?”

Kon opened his own lunch and pulled out the PB&J sandwich and took a large bite. Unabashedly, he answered with his mouth full, “Because I asked him to.”

“Con…”

“Danny, it's fine. Just eat it, okay? Not, like, don't eat anything you don't like, but there won't be anything on your no list in it.”

“Oh.” Danny reached and pulled the lunch box closer. “I… thank you? And tell your dad thank you?”

“Sure, will do,” Kon said as if it was nothing and he wasn't hiding a smile by taking another bite.

Both of them were saved from having to say anything more by the rest of their friends (a loose word, sometimes) arriving at the table. There was some shock expressed at Danny actually having lunch, but mostly good natured teasing and some expressions of how glad they were to see it.

Kon shot Danny a little look during it, and got a blush and little eye roll back for it. It was reward enough for Kon. He was just glad to see Danny eating.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

i wish i could internalise this but you see the problem is that the fandoms are all american and so is much of the source material and there are just things that... don't translate across cultural contexts that would be essential to doing this? when I try to write my little guys being like me, people think they're overbearing and intimidating because there is a completely, completely different script for how to be a woman in the west, especially among non-jewish people

and that doesn't go away just because everyone wants it to, it's a subconsciously irk that i have to actively mitigate by playing so nice, the most nicest, nicest in the world. i hate playing nice so much it's hardly conceivable

having ocs is about community to share them with and if the community doesn't really want to bother to think about that there are un-American realities where people think and are motivated very differently, then where you end up is that can only play true representations of yourself when they are literal aliens :") literal grey aliens in my case

Anyway this likely sounds like I'm mad at you which I'm not, so below the cut here's some actionable ways to support your friends when they want to introduce you to ocs dealing with their cultural identity:

1. Be normal about it, we're all just blokes here, treat them the same way you'd treat any other person's little player character

2. Ask questions and engage with all their silly little fanon that explains how they're like that in a world where xyz is not textually real

3. When you're close enough people fucking love it when you want to play their ocs family, they don't care about the cultural distance, people marry people from different cultures all the time, they will coach you about how to do this, you will learn so much

4. Thru interaction with them you will gradually realize we're all just blokes and your friend can explain any difference in mentality that could matter

5. There will be such differences and they will be narratively significant but it's possible to be normal and encouraging about it and engage like a normal human with the challenging themes that can come from foreign upbringings

6. There will almost definitely be challenging themes because American imperialism has a very wide reach, and beyond that other imperialism exists. The night is dark and full of terrors out there past the core. Things you can brush aside as too political with your American friends are just part of life in some places, and that's not your fault but it feels pretty surreal to have to elide it for your comfort

This is just like a fact and the sooner you stop being guilty about it as if its your fault the sooner you'll be able to appreciate the poignancy of your friend's oc, the world's dumbest coyote

7. You're allowed to check your foreign friends for getting heavy on you out of nowhere, they're not made of porcelain. You're also allowed to joke.

8. Try to take this as an opportunity to read more widely. Read media from that country and reference it even — your foreign friends have to do it to fit in with you, why not make your ocs aware of the sources of their jokes and cultural memes? One of the most charming irl interactions I've had recently was with a random Michigan guy who knew who Verka Serduchka was

9. All of this applies to intercultural competence in general, armed with the ability to understand how to not make people feel weird and lesser for not being American you will do numbers on Xiaohongshu

Hey. You. If you're a second language English speaker. You should make more of your ocs your own nationality. They don't all need to have inexplicably English names. They don't all need to somehow conform to American cultural conventions. They should speak your first language also. Holds your shoulders and looks you deeply in the eyes. Okay? Okay.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.5

Guys, I'm cooked. Anyways, thank you for all the kind words!!! Also Y/n's cooked too...anyways! Enjoy!

ALSO!! EVERYONE THANK @oof-spoof!! THIS SERIES IS NOW BASICALLY DEDICATED TO THEM!!! Thank you @oof-spoof for supporting me!

The group fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words sinking in as if the world itself had pressed down on your shoulders. It wasn’t just about stopping Omni-Man and Invincible or sending that crucial tip to the Guardians of the Globe—it was about surviving long enough to make any of it matter.

The irrefutable fact lingered in the back of everyone’s mind, unspoken but looming: you might be killed again.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the memory of your father’s hand crushing your skull replaying in vivid, excruciating detail. The sound, the pressure, the blinding pain—it haunted you in ways you couldn’t even articulate. And if not that, then what? Would it be a more horrific death this time? Burned alive? Torn apart?

You looked around the table, the same realization written on the faces of your friends. Hallie was biting her lip, staring blankly at the table as her fingers drummed nervously. Connor’s jaw was clenched, his fists curled tightly on his lap. Weston was silent, his expression unreadable, but his tired eyes betrayed him.

Finally, Weston broke the silence. “I’ll figure out how to send the tip,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. His gaze shifted between each of you before landing back on his hands. “You guys focus on keeping our… other obligation in check.”

Shit. You’d completely forgotten about the Demogorgons. Those damn things hadn’t been on your radar for the past few days, but they were still out there, roaming the town, lurking in shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Judging by the groans and sighs from Connor and Hallie, they’d forgotten too.

“Everyone still has their things, right?” you asked, already mentally cataloging what you had at home.

Hallie sat up straighter, brushing her hair out of her face. “Got my pump action and bolt action in my trunk and in my closet,” she said, her voice steadier than her posture.

Connor leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Got ammo and a G-48, Haymitch's axe, and the machete,” he listed off, his tone bordering on exhaustion.

“I still have the smoke bombs and my dad’s rifle he thinks he sold,” Weston added, his voice low but firm.

You nodded, storing the information away. “Good. We’ll need all that and more.”

The silence that followed was thick with understanding. You’d fought these monsters before. You’d survived the impossible. But this time, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about holding the line, balancing the dual threats of the Demogorgons and the looming Viltrumite takeover.

"I say we prepare for the worst," you finally say, your voice cutting through the silence. "Stock up on ammo when you can, supplies, canned food, and whatever else we’ll need. We have to be ready in case everything goes to shit again, in case… in case what we do doesn’t work—"

“Don’t.” Connor’s voice cuts you off, sharp and sudden. “Don’t say that, (Y/n).”

You flinch at the rawness in his voice, the sheer force of his words.

“Connor—” you start, but he barrels forward, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking.

“It has to work!” he says, his voice trembling. “It has to, or else—” He looks away, jaw tight, his hands clenching into fists. “Or else that means we fought for nothing. That means all those people who died—who are going to die—died for nothing. That means we came back for nothing.”

His words hang in the air, raw and painful. You feel them hit you like a punch to the gut.

Your lips press together tightly as you try to find something—anything—to say. Connor was always the "strong" one of the group, the silent type, the brash one who rarely let anyone see how deeply he felt things. He was the backbone, the shoulder everyone else could lean on when things got tough. Seeing him like this, unraveling, hurts more than you want to admit.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Connor,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, I’m sorry,” he mutters, his eyes watery as he scrubs at his face with the back of his hand. His voice cracks slightly as he continues, “You—you’re just doing what you always do, trying to keep us alive. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, Con,” you say quickly, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “I—I get it. Really, I do.”

The tension around the table is palpable. Hallie and Weston exchange uneasy glances, their worry for Connor evident in the grim lines of their faces.

“Connor,” Hallie starts gently, her voice low and careful, “nobody’s saying what happened before will happen again, but—”

“I know,” he cuts her off, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He lets out a shaky breath and sinks back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. But we have to consider the high chance it will.”

The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the thought of failing—of going through all of it again—was unbearable.

But you didn’t have a choice.

You glanced at each of them in turn, taking in their tired faces, the fear lingering in their eyes. They were your family, your only anchor in a world that felt increasingly impossible to navigate.

“We’ll make it work,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “I don’t know how yet, but we will.”

You don’t know if they believe you, and honestly, you’re not even sure if you believe yourself. 

Weston’s hand comes to rest on Connor’s shoulder, rubbing little circles in that gentle, soothing way he always did to calm the group down. It was such a Weston thing to do—he had always been physical with his care and affection, expressing his love in small touches and gestures that reminded you all you weren’t alone. You see Connor’s shoulders relax just slightly under Weston’s touch, though the tension doesn’t completely leave him.

You shift closer, moving to sit beside Connor, offering your silent presence as support. Across the table, Hallie slides her water bottle toward him, her brow furrowed in worry. “Here,” she says softly. Her voice doesn’t waver, but her eyes betray the depth of her concern. Connor takes the bottle with a small, muttered “thanks,” and sips from it, his gaze distant.

The weight of the moment settles over all of you, thick and suffocating. No one says anything for a while, and for a brief moment, the only sound is the distant hum of chatter from other tables in the courtyard.

Then the lunch bell rings, cutting through the stillness like a knife, signaling it’s time to go back to class. The sound sends a jolt through you, and you see the same dread reflected in everyone’s faces. None of you want to go. Yet, there was nothing you could do.

You all stand reluctantly, gathering your things in silence. Before you split up, you squeeze Connor’s shoulder gently, hoping it conveys what you can’t find the words to say. He offers a faint smile.

You walk into the crowded hallway, your mind scrambling as you try to recall your next class. What was it? You swear you knew just minutes ago, but now the information is gone, like a wisp of smoke slipping through your fingers.

You glance around desperately, hoping to recognize a familiar face, someone who might share the class with you. But the sea of students around you is a blur of faces you barely recognize. Who the hell are these people? You don’t remember their names, their voices, their stories. They’re strangers, even though you know you should know them.

Panic creeps up your spine as you weave through the hall, your breathing growing shallow. You’re losing it. You’re losing yourself, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The realization claws at you, sharp and unrelenting.

You hate this. You hate what this world, what this second chance, has reduced you to. What it’s reduced all of you to.

Your hands tremble as you tighten your grip on your bag, willing the shaking to stop, but it doesn’t. You pass classrooms, peeking inside, hoping something will click—a desk, a teacher, a face. But nothing does.

The hallways start growing emptier as students file into their classrooms, the bustling energy fading into a deafening quiet. You glance around, the panic tightening in your chest. Where the hell were you supposed to go?

Your mind scrambles, trying to latch onto something—anything—that will tell you your next class. The answer eludes you, slipping through your fingers like sand. You fumble with your phone, attempting to log into your student portal. At least that would show your schedule, right?

Except the password isn’t auto-saved. Of course, it isn’t.

You sit there staring at the login screen, willing your brain to remember your credentials, but nothing comes. It’s just another blank void. Great. Now you can’t even see your schedule, let alone your grades. Not that grades should be at the top of your concerns right now, but still, the thought gnaws at the back of your mind. You’re so screwed.

You lean against a row of lockers, the cold metal biting into your back as you let out a frustrated sigh. What the hell do I do now? Asking the front desk for help is out of the question. It’s the middle of the school year, and no one forgets their schedule this far in. It would raise questions. And why couldn’t you just look it up yourself? The idea of facing that judgment makes you cringe.

No, you can’t do that.

Instead, you resign yourself to staying in a random, empty hallway, slumping down against the wall. The quiet envelops you, a brief respite from the overwhelming noise in your head. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle around you. God, you didn’t realize how much your eyes were burning, how much your body ached.

The idea of just staying here, hidden and still, is so tempting. Maybe you could just chill here for a while. Yeah, that sounded nice. Just a little break.

You don’t realize how much time passes as you sit there, your mind drifting between the chaos of your thoughts and the exhaustion weighing you down. For a brief moment, you feel the smallest sliver of peace.

Until a voice shatters it.

“Playing hooky, (Y/n)?”

Your stomach drops. No. Not him. Not now.

Mark’s voice carries that unmistakable mix of smugness and sharpness, the tone that always made you want to squirm. “Tch, Mom and Dad are not going to be happy. Especially after the last meeting your counselor had about your little habit of skipping classes.”

You open your eyes, and there he is, standing over you with a smirk that makes you want to curl in on yourself. His eyes bore into yours, sharp and calculating, as if he’s dissecting you piece by piece.

“W-what? When did—oh shit,” you stammer, the memory hitting you like a brick. He’s talking about the meeting. You’d skipped a bunch of classes last semester to deal with the Demogorgons. Sure, you kept your grades up, but that didn’t stop the school from calling your mom. And to say she was upset was an understatement.

Mark’s smirk widens as he watches the realization dawn on your face. “Ah, there it is,” he says mockingly, leaning against the wall. “I’m sure Mom will love hearing about this. You know how she feels about second chances.”

You glare at him, the panic in your chest now mixed with frustration. “Mark, I—look, just don’t. Please.”

His expression softens, but only slightly. There’s still that edge to his voice, that unnerving mix of concern and menace. “Don’t what? Tell her? You’re not making this easy, you know. Skipping class, hiding out like this… It’s like you want her to freak out.”

“I just—” You falter, your words failing you. The exhaustion, the stress, the sheer overwhelming nature of everything—it’s all too much. You can’t think of a good excuse, and Mark’s gaze feels like it’s cutting through every lie you might try to tell.

He crouches down, leveling his eyes with yours. “What’s going on with you, (Y/n)?” he asks, his voice softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been off. I know you’re not telling me everything.”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Mark’s words linger in the air like a trap, waiting for you to fall in. “Are you depressed or something? Maybe it’s a boy? I don’t know, (Y/n), but something’s off. I know it is,” he says, his tone dripping with faux concern. “Just tell me. Tell your big brother, and I can make it go away.”

The irony of it all hits you like a freight train, and you can’t help it—you huff, then giggle, and then it all spirals out of control. A laugh bubbles out of you, wild and uncontainable, quickly escalating into full-blown hysterics. You’re wheezing now, clutching your sides, and you know you must look insane. Maybe you are. How could you not be?

It’s funny, really. The idea that he, Mark, could fix your problems. That he could “make it go away.” It’s laughable because a massive chunk of your problems is sitting right in front of you, watching you unravel with that same calculating smirk. How utterly absurd.

Your laughter devolves into choked breaths as your chest tightens painfully. The tears come next, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. You’re sobbing now, loud and ugly, your body shaking uncontrollably.

Mark’s expression shifts, surprise flickering in his eyes. Then something darker takes hold—something intrigued, almost amused. He wasn’t expecting this, but oh, was he glad. He leans in closer, his lips curling into a softer smile. There was something seriously wrong with you. He knew it now. And that knowledge only made him more eager to figure out what had happened to his weak, adorable little sister.

“Oh, (Y/n),” he coos, his voice deceptively sweet as he cups your cheek with his large, warm hand. His thumb brushes against your tear-streaked skin, wiping away the evidence of your breakdown. His touch is firm but gentle, an unnerving mix of comfort and control.

You try to flinch away, your instincts screaming at you to get out of his grasp, but your body betrays you. Exhausted and overwhelmed, you slump into his hand, your head tilting slightly as if seeking solace. You hate it. You hate yourself for it. But you’re only human, and his warmth feels like the only anchor keeping you from completely spiraling.

“St-stop this,” you choke out between sobs, your voice barely audible. “Puh-please.”

Mark tilts his head, his expression almost mockingly innocent. “Stop what, (Y/n)?” he asks softly, his voice laced with feigned confusion.

“This,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “This—what you—you’re doing. Please, it—it isn’t fair.”

His hand doesn’t move from your cheek, and his thumb continues its slow, deliberate motion, wiping away fresh tears as they fall. His smile softens further, but his eyes remain sharp, predatory.

“Fair?” he echoes, as if tasting the word. “Oh, (Y/n). Life isn’t fair. You know that.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to worry about anything. That’s what I’m here for.”

You shake your head weakly, your sobs growing quieter but no less intense. “You—”

He interrupts you gently, his voice soothing but utterly condescending. “Shh. Just let me take care of you.”

The words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his intent pressing down on you. You know there’s no escaping him now, not when he’s latched onto you like this. Not when he’s decided you’re his problem to solve, his little sister to protect—even if it means breaking you further in the process.

Mark’s gaze lingers on your trembling form, his hand still cradling your cheek. He studies you with a mix of curiosity and calculation, the wheels turning in his mind as he contemplates your place in all of this. Maybe he could make something useful out of you. Maybe you could be shaped into something worthy of the Viltrumite cause.

But as he takes in your tear-streaked face, the way your body shakes beneath his touch, he doubts it. You’re too weak. Too small. Too soft.

It’s almost pathetic how fragile you are, how human you are.

Still, the thought lingers—what if? What if you could prove yourself? What if, against all odds, you showed even the slightest potential? Perhaps then he could convince their father to keep you after the takeover. It would be difficult, of course. Nolan had little patience for weakness, and you were the embodiment of everything the Viltrumite race despised. But if you somehow managed to prove your worth, there was a chance.

Mark’s lips curve into a faint smile, the thought of sparing you for his mother’s sake bringing him a strange sense of satisfaction. You weren’t ideal offspring, no, far from it. But you were her daughter. Debbie would appreciate having you around, he’s sure of it, especially when their father inevitably takes her away from Earth to shield her from the chaos of their conquest.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Mark murmurs, his voice low and smooth. His thumb pauses for a moment, pressing lightly against your cheekbone as his eyes bore into yours. “If it weren’t for Mom, I wouldn’t even consider giving you a chance. But maybe… maybe you’ll surprise us.”

You blink at him, your chest tightening as his words sink in. “A-a chance? Mark, what are you—”

He cuts you off, his smile widening slightly, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’ll see,” he says cryptically, pulling his hand away and standing to his full height. His shadow looms over you, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’re shrinking under his gaze.

“Just remember, (Y/n),” he adds, his tone shifting to something colder, more deliberate. “This world isn’t kind to people like you. But you’re lucky to have me. I’ll make sure you don’t get left behind.”

The words feel like a promise and a threat all at once, leaving you frozen in place as he turns and walks away, his presence lingering long after he’s gone.

You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your breaths shaky and uneven, the weight of his intentions pressing down on you like a vice. Lucky, he said. But you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. And no amount of tears can wash that feeling away.

You sit there, slumped against the wall, trying to process what the hell Mark was talking about. “If it weren’t for Mom?” What does that even mean? Why would she have anything to do with whether Mark decided to “give you a chance?” What kind of chance was he even talking about?

Your mind spirals as you try to make sense of his cryptic words, the unease clawing at your insides. The idea that your mother somehow factored into whatever twisted plans Mark had for you only made the knot in your stomach tighten. What was he planning? What did he mean by not getting left behind?

Your thoughts race, one question bleeding into the next as panic wells up inside you. You can’t piece it together. You don’t have enough information. But the way he looked at you—the cold calculation behind his eyes, the way his words felt like a threat wrapped in false care—it makes your skin crawl.

You bury your face in your hands, your breathing shallow as your mind loops through the interaction. What the hell is going on?

Meanwhile, Mark is on his way out of the school building, his phone already in hand. He dials the familiar number, his expression cool and composed. The phone rings only twice before the unmistakable voice of his father, Nolan, answers.

“What is it?” Omni-Man’s voice is gruff, direct, as always.

Mark leans against the wall outside, his tone calm but tinged with a quiet urgency. “It’s about (Y/n),” he begins, cutting straight to the point. “There’s something off with her. More than usual.”

On the other end of the line, Nolan sighs. His voice is bored, disinterested. “Mark, your sister has always been like this. Emotional and a bit erratic. It’s nothing new.”

Mark clenches his jaw but keeps his tone steady. “No, Dad, this is different. She’s acting weird—like, really weird. Come’on, I’m sure you’ve noticed how she’s stopped constantly asking to go out with us? Or how everytime she looks at one of us, her heart rate always increases, hell, I could smell the adrenaline rush that gets triggered.”

Nolan’s silence stretches for a moment. “Dad, why is she having a fight or flight, fear response triggered, huh?”

“Of course I’ve noticed, Mark,” Omni-man sighs out. “If it’s worth worrying about, I’ll handle it. But until then, she’s just…” He pauses, and Mark can practically see the look on his father’s face. “She’s still a human.”

Mark exhales sharply, but he doesn’t argue. He knows better than to push Nolan when he’s like this. “Fine,” he says, his voice tight. “But if I find out something important, I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” Nolan replies curtly, and the line goes dead.

Mark slips his phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable. He’s not entirely satisfied with his father’s response, but he’s also not surprised. Nolan has never had much patience for what he considers “mundane human nonsense.” If (Y/n)’s behavior didn’t involve anything worthy of the Viltrumite cause, it simply wasn’t a priority to him.

Still, Mark can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than his father realizes. And if Nolan won’t take it seriously, then Mark will.

[idontcare4urmom]

“first?” • 1.014 words

⋆.ೃ࿔*:explicit content,subvirgin!chris,pussydrunk!chris,unprotected sex,praising kink,clit playing,oral (m! & f! receiving),dirty talk,etc.

!! first language is not english!!

you and chris had produced a special unbreakable bonding together since forever,you thought him as your best friend and you suppose that he thought you as his.you would often spend hours yapping around with him about different opinions and assumptions in the most random cases,or binge eat to dissimilar snacks until you were both intolerable full.

yet,you often would find in the back of your mind dreadful fantasizes about him,you couldn't stop it and it was starting to become irritating.he was too attractive,he had a fascinating personality that drawn you to him,though you never dared to admit it to him and neither to your own self,

you were both currently chilling on your bed,doing a movie marathon that was obviously his idea,you tried to avoid it but at the end he would always find a way to convince you on doing as he desired.after the awful options along with shows or films he choose were over,the conversation you were having was slightly different than normally,it was a pretty much sexaul one.

you knew that your friend wasn’t really the best on pulling girls,but you were more than jaw dropping shocked when you discovered that he was a virgin.you don’t know why you were so surprised but it was really hard to believe,

“wait,so you never had any type of sex? like ever?”

“not really,except oral once,i didn’t really enjoyed it to be honest”

you paused in your tracks when those words left from his mouth,and you couldn’t deny that your disbelief was absolutely high when you heard his statement.not only he had received head before and didn’t pleasured him,but he also didn’t want to take a step further than that?

“how is that even possible? i mean,is really rare for a man to not savour a blow job”

chris was incredibly amused by your current state,he found it quite adorable that you couldn’t believe what you were hearing,but the only thing he did was to shrug it off with his shoulders.

you almost yearned to prove him wrong,to convince yourself that maybe you were the one who would be able to actually unveil to him a newfound experience.you held back from pouncing on him when the logic shallowed up your intrusive thoughts.

it wouldn’t be possible to see chris the same if you actually decided to archive something so unfamiliar to both of you,right?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

not sure how things escalated so quickly,but in a matter of a few minutes your tongue was making contact with his,messily devouring his narcotic taste that already had you hooked.your hips were tantalizing against his,obviously craving for me since you could feel the sensation of his clothed erection pressing against your thigh,

you eventually broke the contact,breathlessly staring at him with a piercing gaze and with your pupils dilated from the satisfaction that was crashing currently through your veins,his own messy flushed expression sending waves of heat down to your core.

“don’t worry pretty boy,just relax and i will take good care of you,hmh?”

you didn’t hesitate to transfer to the ground,sinked down on both of your knees at the same time you reached from the waistband of his pants,discarding them off alongside with his slim underwear.you barely glanced towards his face,searching for any type of confirmation,and chris could only nod his head briefly.

his tip was the exact hue of his reddening expression,rosy and accompanied by leaks of gooey pre-cum,his blue orbs grand open with anticipation as you slowly capture it in between your mouth,triggering out a whimper from him.

“oh fuck..that’s it,please,please suck me off” the building pool in your panties was almost unbearable when you started bobbing your head in a semi bouncy motion and dawdling speed,connecting your throat around his throbbing head enthusiastically.

warm water rolls down from the corner of his eyes,pathetically coating his entire face while the unrelenting strength of your chocked gagging on his member jolted sparkling shudders over his spine.he hesitantly rocked his pelvis forward,until he finally founded the perfect amount of rhythm to match yours.

“shit..y-you are so perfect,just like that baby..’m so close” the lukewarm vibrations of your hum against his dick when he twisted his thumb greedily on your sensitive nipple under your top almost hooded him on his orgasm,but you smoothed his cock out of your plump lips,a whine slipping off his neck as a result.

you lazily tousled away any piece that covered your body,focusing on his mercifully fucked out face while positioning yourself down on his lap,your hips ruthlessly rubbing back and forth above his shaft.you weren’t able to contain the teasing phrases that escaped you when you heard him sniffling over and over again,his hooded glance frustrating your shallow pussy more into an impatience snap.

“my sweet boy,looking all innocent yet so far gone to pleasure..do you want me to ride you baby?”

“fuck yes,want to feel you so bad—don’t me beg more” he puffed,his eyes wide and imploring while his length curled upwards to graze leisurely against your vulnerable clit,a sly giggle pasting your mouth that transmuted into a indecent moan when you sunk down on him.

your inners walls enveloped squeezingly his cock as you rebounded your ass up and down on him,companied with at first hesitant yet deep bucking thrusts of his own,his thumbs securely digging the flesh of your waist deliciously while he stretched you out,his base sprinkled unwarningly with spurt jets of his release since he was already overwhelmed from earlier,his dick swivelling inside you and abruptly breaking yourself into a sob,

“please sweetheart—mhm,need you to cum around my dick,please” those were the last words you heard before crashing in an absolute ecstasy,white rings of seed busting and wavering around his leaking cock deliciously,

you struggled to collapse into your senses after the mind blowing yet short sex,your body finally submitting into a laying position on top of him,stimulating a low laugh from the man underneath you.

you were caught off guard when the next thing you felt was his palms spreading your legs open,his face leaping in between them to lap at your juices with his kitten relentlessly,triggering surprised mewls to drop from your parted lips

your high pitched sounds only urged him further,his tongue slipping slowly past your folds to caress every spot slobbily,his stubble unconsciously grazing against your sensitive skin as he didn’t stopped his action for even a second.

“chris,oh my gosh,s’ good” the pressure of your second up coming orgasm was already about to bust,and when the twirling motions of his mouth hugged your spot,you were cumming hard on his face,your calloused fingers gripping his hair locks as if your life depended on it.

chris continued until he made sure that he hadn’t left a single drop around your flesh,placing a last peck on your inner thigh before heightening up his head,his disheveled curls falling all over his forehead,

there was a long thick silence that crossed the room,the realization finally hitting your senses like a firm slap,not until a male voice was heard besides you.

“so,would you get too mad if i told you that i want more?”

ev’s note: literally haven’t written in so long..lmao 😬..anyways hope you enjoyed babies💗💗 #ihavenomotivationpleasehelp

taglist: @wiidfi0wer33 @chrislova @cutiepaiquill @zainabthescientist @jetaimevous @toysizee @chratts-left-ball @savvyratatouille @bellassturniolo @justexisting12

© idontcare4urmom

[rynan16]

Imagine if they were so excited because, they were sent back in time by clockwork, and allowed to change one thing to make the world better. He told them they would know what they were supposed to change when the time came (he already knew what would do and saw how much better the timeline would be) so as soon as they discovered what time period they had been sent back to, they immediately set to work on getting rid of the Jocker. So many people’s lives would be better without him they knew this for a fact. They only had one change they could make, and getting rid of the Joker was the best way to make it count.

After making sure the other important things still fall into place afterward (like Tim joining the team. They may or may not have helped Jason spot him), Clockwork took them back to the present. From Harly, Ivy (they def interacted with her if Jaz was interning with Harly), Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim’s POV, these sibling just appeared in Gotham one day, suspiciously around the time Joker “got sick” and then promptly disappeared out of existence once the batfam took in Tim.

Now, years later, (it’s only been like, a day for Jazz and Danny) they reappear, looking exactly the same as they did the last time they saw them. Chaos ensues as the batparanoia goes through the roof with Batman trying to figure this out. Harley and Ivy are confused, but are also quite happy to see their friend again, and Jazz is equally as excited to see them, talking about the old days as if they were yesterday.

I agree with some of the other reblogs that Harley still becomes a rouge, but I think she’s not nearly as violent, because she doesn’t have the tacked on trauma the Joker caused her. She fits into the anti-hero role a little better than just straight up villain.

Danny: Jazz! I just scored you a personal internship with Harleen Frances Quinzel! The same woman you write your college entrance essay on!

Jazz: *Squeal* How did you manage that?!

Danny: I pulled some strings on the other side. Pays to be Ghost King. Now pack your bags, we're going to Gotham for two years!

Jazz: We?

Danny: Of course. Like I would leave you alone for months on end. I got myself a paid internship in Wayne Tech.

Jazz: *Louder Squeal* This is going to be so much fun! Did you know Miss Quinzel just accepted a job as Arkham Asylum? She's going to personally work on Joker!

Danny: You have the perfect window to posion him!

Jazz: Dreams do come true!

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Our Baby.

Best Friends!Wandanat x little!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda are best friends who have always only been that, but when you come crashing into their lives and take on the roles of caregiver will their relationship deepen?

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Age Regression, mentions of stress and being overwhelmed, caregiver/regressor, fluffy, comfort

Authors note: I saw a post about two best friends being caregivers for someone and this happened sooooo let me know if you want more

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

Wanda and Natasha had been inseparable for years. The two women were practically extensions of one another, sharing a bond so deep that they didn’t think anyone could ever come between them. That is, until you came crashing into their lives—quite literally.

It had been a particularly hectic day in the city. You were rushing down the sidewalk, juggling your tote bag and a stack of books, when you collided headlong into two very sturdy figures. Hot liquid splashed everywhere, the unmistakable aroma of coffee filling the air.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, immediately dropping your things to grab napkins from your bag. You looked up, your wide, apologetic eyes meeting two startled, but intrigued, gazes.

Wanda smiled gently, already sensing the warmth and innocence radiating from you. “It’s alright. No harm done.”

Natasha, on the other hand, smirked, brushing coffee from her leather jacket. “You’ve got quite the impact for someone so small.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you continued to stammer apologies, your hands nervously twisting the napkins. Something about their presence was overwhelming—but not in a bad way. It felt… safe, somehow.

That moment sparked the beginning of something neither Wanda nor Natasha had anticipated. They’d initially invited you out to lunch to reassure you that everything was fine. But one lunch turned into several, and soon, the two heroines found themselves eagerly waiting for your next meeting. You were sweet, playful, and endearing in a way they couldn’t quite describe.

Wanda and Natasha hadn’t immediately noticed your little tendencies. You were so good at masking that even they, two of the most observant people you’d ever met, didn’t put it all together right away. But over time, the signs began to show.

It started with little things. Like the time you fell asleep on their couch during a movie night. Wanda, ever the caregiver, went to drape a blanket over you and froze mid-motion. Your thumb was tucked in your mouth, and you were suckling softly in your sleep. She didn’t say anything at first, but the sight stuck with her.

Then there was your choice of drinkware. You always seemed to have colorful tumblers with cartoon characters on them. Wanda thought they were cute, but Natasha couldn’t help but tease you about your “sippy cups.” You only giggled nervously, brushing it off as something you just liked.

The biggest hint came the first time they asked you to spend the night unexpectedly. They could see the hesitation in your face before you shyly asked, “Can I go home to grab something first? I, um, I need my stuffie to sleep.” You didn’t elaborate, but they saw the soft blush dusting your cheeks as you avoided eye contact. Natasha, being Natasha, simply smirked and said, “Of course, detka. Everyone needs their comforts.”

But the moment of clarity came on a particularly stressful day for you. It had been weeks of mounting pressure from college—assignments, deadlines, and social obligations piling up until you couldn’t take it anymore. You showed up at their apartment in tears, unable to mask how overwhelmed you felt.

Wanda had just opened the door when you pushed past her, pacing in the living room. “Ish no fair!” you cried, your voice higher-pitched and trembling. “They ep ivin me too mush stuffs, an I an’t do it! I an’t—I no wanna!”

Wanda blinked, stunned for a moment before her motherly instincts kicked in. “Sweetheart,” she cooed, stepping closer. “Baby, hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here.” She gently guided you to the couch, her soothing voice and soft hands calming you just enough to sit down.

But as you tried to explain what was wrong, the words tumbled out in a way that surprised even you. “Ish so dumb! olege is too hard, an I just wan loler or wash toons. I no wan do big peoples stuff!” you wailed, curling up with your stuffie tightly clutched to your chest.

Natasha, who had been watching quietly, crouched in front of you. Her sharp, calculating gaze softened as she reached out to hold your hand. “Woah, those are some really big things to deal with, little one,” she said gently, her tone surprisingly tender. “Way too big for you to be thinking about, don’t you think?”

Wanda nodded, sitting beside you and rubbing your back. “Exactly. Mama and Daddy are here to take care of the big stuff, okay? You just focus on being our sweet little girl.”

You sniffled, looking up at them with wide, watery eyes. “Really?”

Natasha smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Really. Let us handle it. You just stay small for us, alright?”

That was the day things changed. They didn’t just accept your regression—they embraced it wholeheartedly. From that point on, they made sure you always had a safe space to be yourself, no matter how little you felt. 

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

It had been a few months since Wanda and Natasha had fully embraced being your caregivers. Their small apartment had worked for a while, but it was quickly becoming clear that it wasn’t enough space for the three of you—especially when you regressed and wanted to run around or build blanket forts. Wanda had been the first to bring up the idea of moving, and Natasha, took the lead in making it happen.

Of course, they didn’t tell you right away. They wanted it to be a surprise.

One sunny afternoon, Wanda and Natasha took you on what they called a "special outing." You didn’t think much of it at first, happily clutching your favorite stuffed animal as they guided you out to the car. But as the drive continued and the scenery shifted from busy city streets to quiet suburban neighborhoods, your curiosity piqued.

“Where are we going?” you asked, bouncing slightly in your seat.

Wanda smiled from the passenger seat, turning to look at you. “You’ll see soon, baby. Be patient.”

Natasha smirked from the driver’s seat. “I think you’ll like it, detka. It’s a big surprise.”

When the car finally pulled into the driveway of a charming two-story house, your jaw dropped. The exterior was painted a deep, calming blue with crisp white accents, and there was a small front porch with enough room for a swing. The yard was spacious and inviting, with plenty of room for you to play.

Wanda stepped out first, holding her hand out for you. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go take a look.” You held her hand, your stuffie in the other.

As soon as you stepped inside, you were in awe. The interior was just as beautiful as the outside, with a clean palette of whites and deep blues that felt cozy yet elegant. Your little heart couldn’t contain the excitement as you clutched your stuffed animal tighter, your eyes darting around the open spaces and tall ceilings.

“This is ours?” you squeaked, looking up at Wanda with wide eyes.

“Not yet,” she said with a soft laugh. “We’re still deciding, but we wanted you to see it first.”

Natasha smirked, already following the realtor as she walked through the house, discussing what changes could be made before moving in. “Go on, malen'kaya,” Natasha encouraged, nodding toward the hallway. “Explore a little.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You darted off, your stuffie bouncing in your arms as you ran down the halls, peeking into each room. There was a large kitchen with an island perfect for baking cookies with Wanda, a spacious living room where Natasha would undoubtedly set up a big TV for movie nights, and upstairs, you found a bedroom that you just knew would be yours.

The house was perfect.

When you ran back to find Wanda and Natasha, they were standing in the living room with the realtor, discussing changes they’d like—adding a fence to the backyard for privacy, painting one of the upstairs bedrooms in softer, more playful tones, and installing blackout curtains in the master bedroom.

Natasha looked over as you skidded to a stop, a bright smile on her face. “What do you think, little one? Do you like it?”

“I love it!” you exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Wanda knelt down and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Good. Because this is going to be your new home, sweetheart. Somewhere safe and quiet, just for us.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you threw your arms around her, your stuffie squished between you. Natasha joined the hug, wrapping her strong arms around the both of you.

“You two are the best,” you whispered, your voice muffled by Wanda’s shoulder.

“And you’re worth it, detka,” Natasha said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “This is just the beginning.”

[transformers-spike]

(Not a request)

I’ve been like honestly thinking, what would certain bots call their little human partners? Like I could imagine TFA megs being “my darling” but like at the same time I don’t. Just a random ramble I hope you could help me out here bc it’s been on my mind for a while🥲

I've been discussing this question with @drunkeninlovesailor this morning and we've brainstormed a bunch - so keep in mind we've also come up with a bit of extra worldbuilding (since we don't always vibe with official sources) Honestly, it depends on how well a bot is acquainted with/willing to use human terms. TFA Megatron for example would only use "my darling" if he knows it terribly flusters the human. He obviously looks down on humanity (and this includes everyone but his human - whom he still looks down upon to a degree but shhhhh). If his planet's terms don't have the same impact, then "darling" it is. But if he were to use a Cybertronian term, he would go for "my spark" (meaning "person I cannot live without"). TFP Megatron always goes for something that's a thin line between affectionate and demeaning. Things like "little one" where you're really questioning if he views you as someone he loves or a glorified pet. To be fair he's weird with everyone - any affection he has is mixed with murderous intent. TFP Optimus would call you something that shows his respect and appreciation for you. Not big on nicknames, but I'm sure you can get him to adopt something - be it Cybertronian or human lingo TFP Bulkhead and Breakdown are well-acquainted with human media (thanks to Miko and Knock Out) - but the nicknames they choose are either obscure references or sickeningly sweet to a point it gets ridiculous. Are they aware of this? Mostly Bulkhead - Breakdown would call you cotton candy with a straight face because it's sweet so it must be affectionate, right? TFP Ratchet would refer to you as his associate and later friend until he finally figures out his feelings and admits to himself he's been pining for so long it's starting to take a toll on him. Then he'll start calling his human "my spark" in private, because he's old as balls. But also "sweetspark" if he's feeling playful. Although he's willing to adopt some human terms as well and lovingly mock you by using the most grotesquely cute nicknames when you're alone. TFP Starscream? Absolute disaster. He tries so hard but he's too self-aware about how weird it sounds to call you anything affectionate. Usually everything he uses sounds demeaning even if he starts them with "my" - ie: my fleshbag. Unless you're in private and he's feeling particularly generous, at which point he's going to see if he can use some of the human lingo he learned while scouring the internet. He's testing them out to see which ones work - this can either make or break your boner. He's trying to seduce you not call you his "honey bear" TFP Smokescreen is a virgin who's never been with anyone before (you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands) so he's navigating the land of pet names with even less experience. Don't let him use the internet though because he'll probably end up calling you his bitch and see nothing wrong with that. Cybertronian terms tend to be easier. He says sweetspark and acts smooth to impress you, but all it takes is a sultry voice and his entire system needs to reboot. TFP Knock Out has a good grip of human lingo and is the best at mixing human and Cybertronian nicknames. He can easily switch between sweetspark and love - my spark and darling. Heck if he wants to be a smug bitch he'll call you kid/kiddo by saying Newspark.

[fiapartridge]

wish you were sober | nico hischier 💌🤍🥂

"pulling me close, begging me to stay over / but i'm over this rollercoaster" - conan gray, wish you were sober

nico hischer x reader

summary: nico only loves you when he can't remember it

warning(s): drinking, pushy a little? but not that bad

wc: 3.5k

fia's notes 💌: hiii i havent written a fic in so long lol so sorry if this sucks lmfao but i go back to school tomorrow so just wanted to put something out before i leave <3

THE BASE OF the music thrummed through the house like a heartbeat, loud and relentless. It was as if it was mirroring your own. The party was packed to the brim—bodies pressed together and drinks spilling as people shouted over the noise. Had half the party not been famous hockey players, the police would have had this place shut down within the first 30 minutes. 

You lingered in the kitchen, your cup held loosely to your lips as you scanned the crowd. You sat atop the cold marble countertop, knowing exactly who you were looking for—though you told yourself you weren’t. It wasn’t your fault, though. It was like your eyes were just attracted to him. Like you could sense him from a mile away without even seeing him. He was that intoxicating. 

And there he was. Right in the middle of the room. 

Nico.

He was surrounded by his teammates, his head thrown back in laughter as he listened to some joke Jack had said. He had this effortless way of commanding attention, of making people want to be around him. Maybe it was his everpresent smile, or the way he pushed back his soft brunette hair every couple minutes, or the way he towered over anyone in his presence, like he was protecting them. Nico was always the protector. Maybe that was what drew you to him the most. 

But that was also the worst thing about him, because who was there to protect you from him?

You tried to tear your gaze away, but it was impossible. You were caught in his orbit, just like always. 

As if sensing your eyes on him, Nico turned, his dark gaze locking on yours. His lazy, drunken smirk molded upon seeing you—his best friend. You knew how this would end. Save the heartbreak—and leave. But before you could get the chance to slip away, he was making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determination that made your stomach twist.

Nico wasn’t a bad person. He never hurt you, or blatantly tried to make you feel bad. He was honestly the nicest guy on the team when he wasn’t making fun of your skating, or the way you try to pronounce certain German words. He was your best friend. The one guy in the whole world who you would trust with your life. But tonight, and other nights just like these, you weren’t sure who he was.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice bright with excitement as he reached you. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

You looked down towards the pulsating floorboards, turning away from his gaze. This happened—a lot. He’s your best friend one night—coming over to your apartment just so you two could watch funny TikToks at 2AM, critiquing your Tinder profile (“Your favorite dog breed is a golden retriever? That is so basic. We’re coming up with something better than that.”), and pushing you in shopping carts as you run away from angry employees—and other nights, he was like this. He was “in love” with you.

“You’re drunk, Nico,” you muttered, your heart stuttering in your chest.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want this. You’ve been wanting this since the moment you started working for the Devils and saw him walk down the tunnel in his full gear. He gave you a smile, gave you a rundown on every single player on the team—who to avoid (dating-wise), who to keep your camera on, and who gave the best answers— and wished you luck. A year later and you’re still waiting on him. It felt pathetic at this point, but every party gives you a little spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same.

“And you’re insanely gorgeous,” he countered, his grin fading into something softer but more dangerous. His hand slid to the counter beside you, nestling himself in the spot between your legs. He leaned in so close, you could feel the heat radiating off him. The move wasn’t casual—it was intentional, like he wanted to make sure you couldn’t look anywhere but him. He knew he was etched on every single fold of your brain. He knew you were his.

Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes searched yours, dark and glassy from the alcohol but holding something deeper, something that made your heart twist. It was something you’ve felt time and time before. Something out of reach, something fleeting, something unreal.

“Nico,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to inject some steadiness into it, “you’re drunk. You don’t mean that.” You never mean it.

“Don’t I, though?” he challenged. His free hand hovered near your waist, hesitating, before brushing against the fabric of your dress, sending a shiver up your spine. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You should’ve walked away, should’ve pushed him back and created distance between the two of you, but you were frozen in place, unable to move—unable to do anything. Nico Hischier, your best friend, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room, like you were something worth chasing.

And it wasn’t the first time—but it still hurt like it was.

Two weeks ago it had been the same. A late night after one of his games, Nico’s arms slung lazily over your shoulders as you sat on your couch, giving in to him. You two had just came back from a bar Mercer had coaxed you all into hitting up after the game. Nico was drunk, warm, and inviting. He’d leaned in closer than usual, his voice low as he told you how much he appreciated you, how you made everything easier, how he didn’t know what he would do without you. 

He’d kissed you that night. Just once, soft and fleeting, but enough to leave you staring at the ceiling long after he’d passed out on your couch. 

The next morning, he’d woken up with a groan, running a hand through his messy hair and complaining about his hangover. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” he’d said casually, like nothing happened, like your lips hadn’t still been burning from his the night before.

You had waited, hoping—praying—he’d bring it up. Hoping he’d say something. Anything.

But he hadn’t. And you hadn’t dared to either. 

Then there was last summer. Jesper Bratt’s birthday party. Nico had been drunk, but not sloppy—just enough to let his walls come down.

“You’re it for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours as you sat on the back porch, ignoring the sounds of shouting and laughter from inside. “No one even comes close.”

You’d let yourself believe him, let yourself imagine for one stupid, passing moment that he meant it. 

But the next day, when you’d texted him, he responded with nothing more than a meme and a casual, “What time are you coming to the rink?”

No acknowledgement. No follow-up. Just the same old Nico, acting like your heart wasn’t caught somewhere between confusion and disappointment. 

And then there was the time he had pulled you onto his lap at a party. His hands rested on your thighs, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured sweet nothings, the kind of thing that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

“You’re everything, Y/N,” he’d whispered. He kissed you, allowed his arms to roam around your body, for his eyes to trail over every part of you that made you insecure. Maybe that was part of the rouse. He had pressed his lips, branded every single surface of your body, had seen all the parts of you that you absolutely hated, and somehow convinced you that they were beautiful.

But the next morning, just like all the times before, he’d acted like it hadn’t happened.

“Did you see that dog I sent you on Instagram? Gotta update that Tinder answer—that is your new favorite breed,” he’d said, flashing you that charming grin as you two sat in a diner for breakfast, like you hadn’t spent half the night replaying the way he’d held you—like maybe he actually meant it this time.

Your chest had tightened, you forced a smile and nodded, choking down your disappointment like it was something that you could just swallow and forget—but you never did, and you probably never will.

You swallowed thickly, staring at the boy in front of you. His dark, glassy eyes held yours as if searching for something—some unspoken permission, some proof that this wasn’t just a one-sided game he liked to play when the alcohol made him bold.

But you knew better by now. Didn’t you? You’d spent too many nights like this, caught between the boy who claimed you were his everything one night and the one who pretended none of it mattered the next morning.

But still, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat when he leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His lips finding the soft skin of your neck, placing delicate kisses in the places he knew drove you crazy.

"Nico," you whispered, the word trembling in the air between you. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You shouldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. "Come home with me tonight."

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn the world stopped spinning. The music faded, the room blurred, and all that existed was him—his soft brown eyes, his messy hair, the faint scent of cologne mixed with alcohol.

You wanted to say no. God, you wanted to say no. But the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him here, made it impossible. He always did this—always made you feel like you were the center of his universe for one fleeting moment before tearing it all away the next morning.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because you were simply weak, but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. Not when he looked at you like this.

"Okay," you said softly, hating yourself for how easily the word slipped out.

Nico grinned, a lopsided, boyish smile that made your stomach flip despite the ache in your chest. His hand wrapped around yours, pulling you off the counter and guiding you through the crowd with an urgency that felt all too familiar. The buzz of the party seemed to drown out, replaced by the rapid beat of your heart, the quickening of your breath.

When you reached the door, Nico was already pulling out his phone, ordering the Uber without a second thought. You didn’t stop him. Maybe part of you was still caught in the warmth of his hand in yours, or maybe you were just too tired to argue.

Once the Uber arrived, the two of you slid into the backseat, his arms already encircling you as your head laid on his slow-rising chest. The peacefulness of it all made you feel both content and terrified at the same time. How was he so good at this? At making you believe that he wanted you? How was he so steady and still, knowing that he was shaking up your entire life with this moment alone.

He felt safe, and warm, and inviting. And you hated that because you knew it was wrong. This whole thing was wrong. So why couldn’t you let go?

He planted flowery kisses to the crown of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His entire body was so close, you could feel the heat and the tension radiating from him. This moment—it felt like everything and nothing at the same exact time. 

"You’re so beautiful," Nico murmured against your hair, his voice rough but sincere. "Every time I look at you, I just... I don’t know how to explain it. You’ve got this way about you that drives me crazy. You’re everything."

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the knots of confusion twisting in your stomach. It felt too good, and that scared you more than anything. His kisses continued, delicate and tender, each one making your heart race in a way that both calmed and terrified you.

You knew this wasn’t real; that he had done this countless times before, but was it so bad to believe it was—just for tonight?

You allowed for your eyes to close, for your body to rest and mold against him, for him to take you completely..He shifted slightly, his fingers running through your hair, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “You’re always like this,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection. “You just always make everything feel... easier, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but notice the softness in his tone, the way he seemed to genuinely mean it, even though you both knew this wasn’t it—not really.

The car hummed quietly around you as he leaned his cheek against your head, his breath warm on your skin. It was easy to let yourself get lost in the moment, his presence so familiar, so comforting. But then his voice broke the silence again, the words so casual they almost seemed like an afterthought.

“I always remember you, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air, soft but heavy, and it hit you like a tidal wave. Your breath caught, your chest tightening so suddenly it felt like you’d been punched. You glanced at him for half a second, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed out the window, a faint smile still playing on his lips, like he hadn’t just shattered you with a few careless words.

You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift in your thoughts. The feeling of his arms around you didn’t feel the same anymore. His closeness had always been a comfort, but now it felt like a reminder of everything you were trying to avoid.

He didn’t even realize what he’d just done, how his lighthearted, offhand comment had sent you spiraling. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything. His hand continued to lightly trace circles on your arm, his presence close, but something about it now—it felt toxic, like the entire thing, all that you two had built in the last few minutes had just blown up on you. 

Because he wasn’t just talking about tonight, not just the alcohol clouding his thoughts. No, he’d remembered you all along. Even when it felt like he hadn’t been there, like it was just something that happened when he was caught up in the moment, he always remembered.

But he pretended like he didn’t.

Before you could say anything, the Uber pulled up to his apartment, and you both got out of the car, the night air doing little to settle the emotions swirling between you.

Nico smiled softly, his hand brushing yours, pulling you into the building. He looked at you like nothing had changed, like he hadn’t just dropped a truth bomb on your heart. 

When you arrived, he held the door open for you, his grin softening into something more intimate as he led you inside, his hand lingering on your lower back as he guided you past the threshold. The apartment was familiar, but it felt different tonight—distant, colder, almost suffocating. Nico wasn’t just a boy in front of you anymore; he was a reminder of everything you couldn’t quite make sense of.

Once you were in, he closed the door behind you with a soft click. He stood there for a moment, his eyes still on you, his chest rising and falling with a deep, steady breath, as though he was waiting for something.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. But just like everything Nico did, he pushed forward like he didn’t even have to try, like he never did anything for the first time. He just always knew. 

And before you knew it, his hands were on your waist, hungrily exploring your body like he had never traversed around it before. His lips pressed gently against yours, like he was giving you time to back out, to tell him that this wasn’t what you wanted. He was testing the waters with you. And you knew you shouldn’t be here; that you should’ve taken that moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Not yet.

He backed you up against the couch, the soft, plush arms hitting the back of your thighs as he groaned softly into your mouth. His hands slid under your dress, the heat of his palms on your skin making your breath hitch, his kisses growing more urgent as if he was trying to steal something from you. You could feel the tension building between you, his desire so palpable, so intense, that it was almost suffocating.

You could feel it, too—your own heart pounding, your body responding despite the part of you that was screaming to stop. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. You did. Maybe too much. But this wasn’t right. Not like this.

He kissed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “Y/N…” His hands found their way to your back, slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his lips trailing after them. "Come on, just let go tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and pleading. "Tell me you want this."

The weight of the situation settled over you, and suddenly everything felt wrong—too fast, too much. You pulled back, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. His eyes were dark, clouded with desire, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you needed.

“I can’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling, but firm. “I don’t want this.”

The words hit him like a switch. As soon as you said them, Nico froze.. His hands, still hovering near the straps of your dress, stilled. His lips parted, but no words came. His hands dropped to his sides, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to steady himself, like he was struggling to understand. You could almost hear the shift in his thoughts—the reality sinking in as the alcohol seemingly cleared from his system in an instant.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, the words low, raw, and full of regret. He reached for you as if to stop you from leaving, but then he hesitated, pulling his hand back like you might vanish if he touched you. "God, Y/N, I didn't—"

“You didn’t do anything,” you murmured, placing your hand on his wrist. “It’s me.” Before he could protest, you were already looking into his eyes with something he’s never seen from you before. Remorse? Sadness? Regret? “I like you more than you will ever like me. I just wish…you wanted me when you were sober," you whispered like you had just revealed your entire hand.

And in the scope of it all, you had. You were completely bare.

There was a long silence, his lips parted as though he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he just stood there, his hands hanging at his sides as if the life had drained out of him. And you knew he wasn’t seeing you, not really. He was seeing someone else—the girl he could keep at arm’s length, the girl who would give him what he wanted when it was easy, when he was too drunk to remember what it really meant.

You didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

“I’m leaving,” you said quietly, already stepping toward the door. Nico didn’t try to stop you this time. Instead, he watched, his eyes following you as you reached for the handle.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you could almost hear his sincerity, though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol wearing off or the realization that he had truly pushed you too far. But that didn’t matter anymore.

You opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, the weight in your chest only growing heavier as you walked away. You knew leaving was the right choice—no matter how much it hurt. It was time to stop pretending, to stop chasing something that wasn’t meant for you.

By the time you were back home, the tears were spilling over, and his words were echoing in your head. You leaned against the wall, your body crumpling into a pile on the floor of your kitchen. You had made the right choice—leaving before it went too far, before you let him make you feel like you were disposable again. But that damn line, "I always remember you"—it haunted you. Lighthearted. Careless. Yet somehow, it felt like the cruelest thing he’d ever said. 

After a while, you stood up, wiped your tears, slid off your dress, sat in bed, and hoped that one day, Nico would wish he’d been sober too.

[lananiscorner]

Perhaps I was not clear enough in my original reblog, but I think you may have misunderstood several points of my post.

I was not trying to invalidate anything about the OP or miss its point--I was adding onto it, because for some adults who enjoy media for children, nostalgia is part of the appeal. I am sorry that the nature of your childhood meant that this could not be the case for you, but that doesn't change the fact that it is a factor for some, including for me. Your experiences are not universal, and neither are mine.

Personally, I occasionally rewatch cartoons from my childhood because they take me back to "simpler times". I occasionally watch shows or movies like them, designed for kids, even today as a grown adult long out of childhood, because there is something comforting for me in enjoying a well-made show/movie that focuses on the core messages we try to instill in future generations in terms that nobody can miss: be brave, be understanding, be kind, make friends.

The reason why I went into the second topic of my post (the stigma around adults consuming media for kids being puritanical panic around the potential of adults corrupting or hurting kids if they engage with the fandom) is because this is precisely the reasoning I see flung around most often by other people as criticism of adults who are in fandoms for child media or who enjoy media for children.

Gonna repeat that again: BY OTHER PEOPLE. I do not agree with that take.

I cannot count the many times I have either received asks myself, or have had mutuals receive asks, saying we should not be in fandoms X, Y, Z, because a grown adult enjoying stuff for children is creepy.

I was pushing back on said argument, to state why it is, in fact, beneficial to have people of multiple age ranges enjoying the same thing, precisely because it is the argument I most frequently had people try to wield against me and my mutuals.

I WISH I had no need to bring it up. I WISH that sentiment (that all adults who enjoy stuff for kids or are hanging out in fandoms for said media are creeps) did not exist, but it does, and so I decided to address it, before anybody tries to jump into my ask box and go "hurgh, hurgh, that post you reblogged about how we shouldn't shame adults for enjoying media for kids--do you not realize what massive creeps you are?"

You also grossly misinterpreted what I meant by "not every". "Not every" does not automatically mean "a good chunk" or "most". It means "not 100%". At no point, did I make any statement about how many percent of adults who enjoy kids media or enjoy hanging out in fandoms about kids media may be abusers, but I did acknowledge that they exist, because they do. They do exist in kids media fandoms, as they do in any sphere of life where kids may be present. So let me state this clearly for the record: In my experience, it is an incredibly small number, but it is not 0%. It is also not 100% though, which is what some other people like to assume.

There are plenty of people who are into children's media or part of those fandoms for entirely normal, healthy reasons:

They enjoy the simplicity of it.

They enjoy the quality of the writing/animation/music/various other parts of the work.

It helps them work through trauma or tough times.

It gives them nostalgic comfort.

They have loved ones or friends who enjoy it and want to be able to connect with them about it.

[Insert probably around half a dozen reasons here that I cannot think of at the moment.]

I do not judge anybody who likes media for kids for liking media for kids. As long as you are not harming anybody, you do you. Have fun, live your best life, enjoy the things you enjoy.

And regarding your question "How do you think about people who WORK in animation??" - In general, I think most of them are incredibly talented people. Whether they are decent people in a moral sense is something I cannot judge, unless:

A) I get to know them personally (highly unlikely).

B) They use their amazing talent to create something bigoted/hateful.

C) They publicly interact with others in a bigoted/hateful/abusive manner, or records of them interacting in such manner in private become public.

And if B or C ever happen (e.g. Rowling), I simply block them, stop interacting with their material, and move on with my life.

I like to think of people as innocent until proven guilty. I do my best to treat strangers with respect, understanding and kindness, and I say "do my best" because nobody's perfect--we all mess up sometimes and there have definitely been days when I have been physically or emotionally drained enough to be a sad ball of rage lashing out at anyone who interacted with me, and also because I am well aware that I have certain culturally-ingrained biases that I am actively doing my best to unlearn. But my default is always "assume decent person, until proven otherwise".

I will conclude by saying this: I wish you the best and I hope I made my point clearer this time.

Quick edit to add: I will also mute this post now, in the interest of not getting into any further arguments and derail OPs post even further. My initial reblog was meant to be a simple addition in further support of letting people enjoy what they enjoy.

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[timetravellibrarian]

Zoro with a younger girl who is like his little sister who has been beside him for years headcannons plsss and maybe his reaction to her x luffy?

Miss Roronoa

Zoro with a Lil sister headcannons

Zoro x younger sister! Reader

Reader x Luffy

✧｡⁠:ﾟ۝ ﾟ⁠:⁠｡✧:ﾟ۝ ﾟ⁠:⁠｡✧｡⁠:ﾟ۝ ﾟ⁠:⁠｡✧✧｡⁠:ﾟ۝ ﾟ⁠:⁠｡✧:ﾟ۝ ﾟ⁠:⁠｡✧｡⁠:ﾟ۝ ﾟ⁠:⁠｡✧

❥ First and foremost, like almost all older brothers, Zoro would be protective of his lil sister.

Anywhere she wants to go off the ship, he's coming along with. Not because he doubts she could take care of herself but because, and I quote, "I don't want you getting lost or something." To which he'd get a 'Thats some bs' look from not only you but from anyone nearby who heard.

❥ Ussop and Nami side-eyeing from the side.

❥ Before the both of you joined the crew you'd work as sort of the nurse whenever he'd get injured in a fight or even during training, even when you were little kids. So ofcourse he'd pay back the favour by teaching you how to fight too -mainly because he doesn't want you getting picked on by other kids and also as a form of bullying you himself.

"C'mon, pick up the sword and fight me!"

"Why don't you drop the other two swords and we can have a fair fight?"

He'd just stare at you, mind piecing together a heinous plan. His grin widening into an evil one.

"What if I give you a little tap then?"

"MOOMMM! ZORO'S TRYING TO FIGHT ME AGAIN!"

❥ Remember that interview he had when he was asked how he lived before joining the crew? Where he'd say he'd kill the sea king and eat it whole. He'd give you a tiny portion of the share. Just to tease you. "You didn't kill it so you don't decide how much you'll get." Meanwhile he placed another larger portion when you're not looking.

❥He wouldn't say "I love you." to you. Brothers don't usually do that. He'd probably laugh at you when you do something dumb or fall over and if cameras were around at that time, he'd take a picture before helping you up

Or say something like:

"Tell me if someone's bothering you. I'll handle them."

❥ Siblings look the same one way or another. So let's just say one of the many things that shouts out that you two are related is your green hair. People who've heard rumours are already scared enough of the name Roronoa Zoro but they tremble even more when they find out he has a sister just as dangerous. Maybe even more.

❥ Sanji. Just that would be a whole case for Zoro.

Sanji treats you like a princess as he does for all women. But the moment Zoro even comes to his line of vision he's a certified hater.

"You're always so beautiful!!" ♡(♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠)♡

"Thank you Sanji, you're beautiful too." (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

"I did not just hear you call that Cook "beautiful"" (ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ)

"You say "Cook" like it's a slur."

❥ And Finally like most brothers, he definitely disapproves of any xy chromosome.

When you were still little, he'd chase off any boy who even dared to look at you romantically. Maybe even glare at anyone who went inside your personal space. It wouldn't be in an overbearing way; he'd understand that you wanna live your life.

So when he could see something brew between you and his captain, he was cautious. Don't get it wrong, Luffy is his friend and captain, he'd trust the rubbery man with his life. But you're his sister and he'll still look out for you. Maybe knock some sense into Luffy about some things just in case.

''Luffy.''

''Yeah, Zoro?''

''Hurt her and I'll-''

''Wouldn't dream of it.''

❥ Sanji would be sulking in the corner, tissues and tears at the fact that Luffy got a girlfriend before him.

[powdcr]

it's you, toots

୨୧ jinx x gn!reader

୨୧ summary: jinx confesses her feelings for you; you're seeing someone

୨୧ word count: 1.1k

୨୧ tw: mentions of blood

୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ

“Do you really think that this is easy for me?”

A sentence that you never thought you’d hear in this context, especially from your close friend that stood before you: Jinx. You had been seeing someone recently. It was someone that you had met at The Last Drop. While you were waiting for Jinx to come back from her meeting with Silco, someone had approached you at the bar. They weren’t exactly what you were looking for, but they were someone to fill the void. They satisfied your urges, gave you attention, and had a pretty face. They weren’t what you really, truly wanted though—a fact that struck you straight to the bone.

“What are you talking about?” You replied, your voice wavering like the whine of a lost puppy.

You two were standing face-to-face in a back alleyway of Zaun. The distant sounds of people bustling by were easy for you to tune out. It was like going to sleep with the fan on, you didn’t pick up on its commotion. In fact, it felt quiet—pin-drop silent. Words unspoken and misconstrued filled the silence, and instead, made your head feel noisier than your surroundings.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, looking away and then back to the blue-haired girl. “Is this about-”

“The fresh meat you dragged home from the bar, toots.”

“Why do you care about who I bring home?” You spat back at her, crossing your arms.

Jinx’s mouth, held open ready to spit back venom, was now closed. She bit her lip, some of her emotions seeping out against her own wishes. She kicked a rock before throwing herself down on a crate that was leaned up against one of Zaun's many buildings. “You don’t know the kinda effect you have on people, do ya?”

Your eyes softened at her question. Taking a few steps closer to her, you dropped your arms back down to your sides. “Effect?”

Jinx looked up at you, her eyes were longing something—something that she wanted dearly. “Yeah, you’re perfect. You make people stop in their tracks when you walk by, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and hell, you have twice the heart that I’ve ever had. I think that’s also your weakness though, buttercup.”

Your eyebrows were furrowed. This was a lot to hear all at once. Jinx was one to flirt with you constantly, but it was so constant that you didn’t think it had any depth to it. It was one of those things that just lost its meaning after a while. However, this wasn’t how she would normally speak to you. Her expression now shown of defeat, vulnerability. Her expected manic energy was replaced with one of… innocence?

“What are you trying to say, Jinx?” You asked.

“I’m trying to say…” she sighed once more, standing up from the crate and moseying over to you. “It’s you, toots, it’s always been you. I can’t stand to see you wasting your time with some bupkis from down the block when I’m right here.”

The last words that fell off of her lips were said the most slowly and held the most power. Your heart broke at her confession. The pain that shown through her pink eyes erupted a nauseous feeling within your gut. Jinx’s eyes began to tear up as she harshly rubbed them, praying they’d stop.

“Jinx…” You murmured, “I-”

“You don’t gotta say anything, sweets. In fact, it’d be better for both of us if ya didn’t.”

Just as she finished her sentence, you closed the gap between the two of you. Tender, soft lips clashed against one another. She was sweet, full of flavor, just enough to keep you wanting more. You could feel her mania start up as she slid her tongue into your mouth hungrily. Her hands cupped your face gently in contrast to her rough kiss. Her nails trailed down your cheeks and to your neck.

“Jinx,” you said, voice breathy as you broke the kiss.

Jinx looked into your eyes. She felt as though she had did something wrong, like maybe the next words that would fall off your tongue would be something like, “I knew kissing you would be a mistake.” Blood drew as she bit down on her lip hard this time.

You kissed the blood that pooled on her bottom lip, wiping the excess away with your thumb. “I was only seeing that ‘bupkis’ because I could pretend that it was you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re all I ever think about. Don’t you know that?”

Her eyes were wide and doe-like, not a descriptor that she had received often. “Really? So… you’re not gonna leave me?”

You dropped your shoulders, releasing the tension you hadn’t realized was building. “Of course, I’m not gonna leave. I know people have left you in your life. I know that, but I’m not gonna be one of them. You’re my ride or die. I’m never gonna leave you.”

The hunger within the two of you subsided as a more sensual, emotional atmosphere set in. Jinx wrapped her arms around you. She held you tight, afraid that if she let go you’d slip away from her. You were hers. You were only hers. Subconsciously, she dug her nails into your back to keep you from prying away, even if she knew you weren’t going to go anywhere.

“I love you, Jinx.”

“I love you too,” she replied after some hesitation, nervous to admit her true feelings out loud. This time it was her to close the gap between you. Jinx kissed you with delicacy, choosing instead to be careful with you. She placed her hands flat on your chest so that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt. It was racing—a fact that soothed her, for hers was racing equally as fast. Your hearts beat together as one, strong as a jackhammer.

Your relationship was about to change, blossom into something new and passionate. It was something that you had dreamed of for years—holding her in your arms just as you had her now. Ever since the day you met her, you knew that she was the one. She had proven to be loyal: following you everywhere, blowing people up that dared to even look at you the wrong way, comforting you on your bad days, but now you were able to prove your own loyalty to her in a different way. You would make sure that she knew that she was yours and vice versa. She was your girl, always had been after all.