#it's really a mode of expression here

[sassenashsworld]

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[tjerra14]

help

[iftitah]

<3

[unproduciblesmackdown]

superior "ugh this isn't a joke >:(" route

[starry-bi-sky]

FIRST OFF, this inspired me to draw more ras danyal so:

(that last one says 'someone left the (non)local teen cult leader unsupervised. now he has swords :)' for anyone who can't read my chicken scratch handwriting)

i know Ras Danyal isn't TECHNICALLY the LoA leader in his world (since LoA doesn't exist) but 'teen cult leader' felt much snappier and funnier than 'teen cult leader (but not actually)' did. Plus I think it'd be hilarious if one of the heroes saw Danny with swords post-finding out he's a Ras variant and going; 'WHY DOES THE TEENAGE CULT LEADER HAVE SWORDS.'

SECOND OFF: MAN this is so cinematic. Madly in love with it. Like!!! AaaaaAAAA!! I can totally imagine this shot being like, from the start of a movie. I can just imagine the camera panning from a wide environment shot to Danny racing through the streets of the town/village. Maybe if we're feeling bold it could be him hopping from rooftop to rooftop between the close-together buildings. Really fancy cinematic parkour stuff.

It gives us a good shot of the village, which is full of life and vibrant with people and plantlife. It's built into the side of a mountain so Nanda Parbat is pretty secluded from everywhere else, but it's so nice and pretty. Ras Danyal loves visiting Nanda Parbat in the summers, and he was genuinely upset that they missed going one year because of the portal. He has close friends here just as he does back in Amity.

The cinematic shot ends with Danny dropping down from somewhere into a roll, and then popping back up while laughing. He's down at the plaza-area, where the rest of his friends are, and he's slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

"There you are, Ras!" His friend Maryam calls, and he jogs over to her and the others. "You're the last one."

"Sorry, I was looking around." Ras Danny says, still smiling and not sounding all that apologetic. "Had to see if anything changed since I was last here."

And you're right, he probably DID say something stupid like that. Slung both his arms around his other two friends Rahim and Ahsan and said with a sly smile, "With everything going on in Amity? I'm planning for a quiet summer here in Nanda." and forgot to knock on wood.

Danny Is An Alternate Version Of Ra's Al Ghul And Flash Already Called Dibs On Adopting Him

Danny In All His Sleep Deprived Slightly Scuffed Up From A Fight Glory Is On His Way To Clockworks Tower To Hopefully Get A Nap And Maybe Some Homework Done When A Natural Portal Opens Up In Front Of Him And Proceeds To Unceremoniously Drop Him In The DC Verse Just Outside Of Central City Before Promptly Closing Leaving A Tired Danny Behind In A Run Down Abandoned Parking Lot.

It's Times Like This When Danny Regrets Putting Off Learning How To Make His Own Portals, Cause Now He Is Very Much Stuck For The Foreseeable Future And He Has No Idea Where Or When He Is. Luckily For Him However Central City Isn't Too Far Away, Unlucky For Him However Is That Once In The City He Realizes This Isn't His Dimension. He's Pretty Sure He'd Remember Something Called The Justice League.

So What Do You Do When Supernatural Bullshit Fails You? You Fall Back On Your Mad Scientist Roots And You Make A Portal Gun. So That's Exactly What Danny Plans To Do.

Unfortunately Staying Alive And Building Questionably Safe Portal Technology Requires Money And Supplies, So He Ends Up Wandering From City To City Doing Odd Jobs/Fixing Up Busted Tech For Cash Or Unwanted Electronics For His "Operation: Get Home" Needs. This Obviously Ends In A Few Superhero Encounter Shenanigans.

Though He Always Ends Up Back Near Central City, Both On The Off Chance The Natural Portal Will Open Up Again And Because Out Of All The Superheroes That Apparently Exist In This Universe The Speedsters Are His Favorite (Red Robin Is Solidly His Second Favorite Ever Since The Gotham Vigilante Gave Him A Large Coffee Filled With Enough Caffeine To Kill A Man).

Unbeknownst To Danny However Is That Every Hero/Vigilante He Has Encountered Has Come To At Least One Of The Following Conclusions; 1. Run Away Meta Who Is In Desperate Need Of A Good Meal/Adoption Bait. 2. Possibly Red Robin/Tim Drake Clone 3. A Good Kid But Could Possibly Be A Future Rouge If Left Unsupervised. 4. Did Bats Get A New Kid And Why Is He Here?

All Flash Knows Is That He Saw The Kid First And Therefore Has Dibs. Suck It Bruce.

Fast-forward A Few Months And Danny Gets Hurt During A Rogue Attack While Trying To Help Some Civilians Get To Safety (Old Hero Habits Die Hard (Ha Die Hard) And All That Jazz) And He Nopes Out Once Everyone Is Safe And When The Paramedics Are Busy With Other People Unaware He Left A Blood Sample Behind.

One DNA Test Brought To You By Paranoid Bat Concerns Of A Possible Red Robin Clone Later And They Find Out That Dannys DNA Matches One Ra's Al Ghul.

They Now Think Danny Is An Escaped Ra's Al Ghul Clone.

Memes For The Vibes:

[suskz]

Saw jockchan x nerd reader. I was wondering if you could write something about swim captain Chan x quiet female reader ?

pairing: SwimCaptain!Chan x Quiet!fem!Reader

t/w: smut ; semi-public sex ; secret relationship ; oral (f!rec) ; jealousy ; exhibitionism kink (but no exhibitionism) ; unprotected sex (be smarter, don’t do that).

w/c: around 1,8k

a/n: It’s 1:45 a.m. here, I’m going to sleep now. Hope you like it! ♡

18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

There are 25 minutes left until the end of the training session when you arrive.

"Come see me at training today, it will bring me luck for tomorrow’s championship." This was his sweet request this afternoon, and you naturally said yes; it's just a pity that you arrived an hour late.

Your quick steps to take a seat in the stands can’t be heard by the guys as they talk near the pool, but Chan notices you the moment you enter.

His head turns in your direction and he smiles at you, waving a hand at you. You do the same, returning the greeting.

Immediately, his eyes shift to Changbin and Jisung though, members of the team, who seem to be arguing, and he approaches them.

It doesn’t take you long to understand that they were arguing about who is the fastest swimmer of the two, as shortly after they are giving each other challenging looks as they get into position and enter the water when Chan gives them the signal.

You like seeing him in leader mode in moments like this. It’s extremely hot, but also really cute when he turns in your direction to look at you, shaking his head in exasperation, making you giggle.

But your attention shifts a little further away from you when you hear a girl speaking.

"Did you see him? Now you can’t say he isn’t gorgeous." One of the two girls says to the other.

“He’s freaking perfect, oh my God,” the other girl comments. “What did you say his name was?”

“Bang Chan; I’ll give you his Instagram.”

Your teeth clench at the last sentence. Are they talking about Chan? Your Chan?

The same Chan who kisses, fucks, and cuddles you every day?

You briefly consider letting them know. You should turn to them and tell them to their faces, but there’s something holding you back, keeping you still. And this thing prohibits you from letting them know how things really are, so you sit there in silence, enduring their annoying compliments about him for what feels like endless minutes.

Yes, his body and muscles are stunning. Yes, his voice is sensual and his laugh is sweet. Yes, he has an irresistible gaze. Do they really need to keep repeating that?

When the training ends and you think you’ve finally gotten rid of them, they’re in front of him before you can make a move.

You watch them from afar, standing and waiting, trying to appear as normal and indifferent as possible while they congratulate the captain for his hard work as a leader. Ah, and also for his hard work in the gym.

He chuckles with his dimples showing, first shaking his hands in front of himself in a gesture of denial, but ending up scratching the back of his neck as he thanks them cordially. The two girls look at each other and giggle.

But a few minutes later, it’s you who finds yourself in the locker room with him, his hands on your hips and his lips on yours, feverish and needy.

“Were you jealous?” He grins teasingly, but deep down he feels immense tenderness and perhaps a little embarrassment knowing that you love him so much that you can’t stand other girls complimenting him in that way.

You don’t respond, looking at his bare chest and hoping he’ll stop.

His smile grows, “I saw how you were looking at them, your eyes were burning flames.” He stifles a chuckle as you raise your head with a guilty expression.

“Was I that obvious?” You ask, your cheeks starting to blush, embarrassed by your exaggerated reaction.

“Yes, but I like it.” He leans in to kiss you again, but soon his hands slip under your shirt and you break the kiss.

“Chan, we can’t do this here.” you whisper against his lips. All the other guys from the team are just meters away, taking a shower. You risk being heard, and you don’t want that to happen.

“But I need you now.” he whispers on your neck, starting to leave warm, wet kisses.

You don’t respond, but you tilt your head to give him more space and don’t stop him, and he takes this action as agreement.

He licks and sucks on a patch of your skin, leaving a red mark that will be prominently displayed for days. He might get completely hard just at the thought of you walking around with the mark of his presence on your body, even if others don’t know whose it is.

He pulls away and admires it, then gives it one final kiss, making you hiss from the slight pain.

Needy, his hand grabs yours and pulls you into the bathroom. You don’t resist; you follow him, silent, and together you enter one of the showers, closing the curtain. The one in the corner, with an empty shower next to it.

And then, Chan turns on the water, wetting both of you, although not completely.

“Chan, you finally came in, why did it take you so long?” Changbin yells from a few showers away.

“I just had a moment with Y/n.” Chan responds casually, as if he weren’t currently lowering your shorts and underwear at the same time.

“Oh, she’s already gone?” This time it’s Jisung’s voice.

“Yeah, she went back to the dorm.”

There’s something, something that arouses both of you at the idea that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing while his friends are there, just meters away from you, unaware.

His fingers move skilfully between your folds, rubbing your clit with one finger quickly while two of his other fingers hold your pussy lips open as your hips move back and forth instinctively.

When his fingers enter your cunt, they do so easily from how wet you are and from all the times his cock has been inside you.

You take his face in your hands to bring your lips closer to his ear so you can talk to him, “We don’t have time, put it in already.” You whisper, and his cock twitches in the tight shorts he’s wearing, reminding him of how damn tight they feel.

He withdraws his fingers and turns you around, replacing them with his dick, entering you slowly to allow you to more easily suppress any sounds that could be heard by the others.

His hands hold the lower parts of your cheeks to spread them apart to get in deeper as he moves inside you. It’s not the best position, but you can’t bend over because you’d risk slipping.

Your moans are silent. Your heavy breaths are fortunately hard to hear with the shower water running and their voices humming.

Chan tries not to fuck you too hard to avoid the sound of your skins slapping together. Because you’re not alone, and no one must hear you. Even though, maybe, he actually wants someone to hear you. He wants someone to find out about the dirty things you’re doing without their knowledge, right there near them. Maybe he secretly wishes someone would open the shower curtain and see you in this situation.

And maybe you want it too.

But these thoughts don’t stop both of you from freezing at the sudden sound of Hyunjin’s voice. “Does anyone have shower gel?”

His movements pause only for a moment. He should feel embarrassed, mortified to hear his friend’s voice so close to you in such a situation, but instead, it sends a jolt of pleasure to his cock, and he immediately starts moving again.

You look at him with an expression now fearful, but this arouses you as much as it does him.

Jeongin’s voice is quick to respond, “I do, here it is.”

“Thanks Jeonginnie, love you.” Hyunjin thanks him in his sweet voice.

Chan pulls out of you, but before you have time to say anything, he turns you around, grabs your thighs from behind, and lifts you, pushing you against the wall. His arms slide under your knees and spread you open, re-entering you.

“That’s better.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod in agreement with quick breaths.

The pleasure intensifies for both of you. A soft moan escapes his lips, not being able to hold it back, causing him to bite his lower lip and hide his face on your shoulder, his ears turning redder as he failed to contain his pleasure.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling strands, causing his hips to buck up in a harder thrust, making your head slide back against the shower tiles.

It’s at this moment that the others start coming out of the showers, and soon they are out of the locker room after greeting Chan and telling him to hurry up.

When everyone is out, you both look at each other, then chuckle.

“I couldn’t hold back anymore.” you admit.

“Me neither.” he says.

“I noticed.” you tease, and he looks at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows in an offended look.

You clench around him on purpose, eliciting a needy moan from his lips. In response, he thrusts into you, and this time it’s you who whines.

“You’re as needy as I am.” he grins, resuming his movements. This time you’re a bit freer to let out your voice, but you need to hurry. His thrusts are faster now, reaching deeper spots inside you, being able to fuck you harder, eliciting a series of staccato moans from you.

“Touch yourself.” he orders and you immediately obey, without needing to be told twice.

His movements become more erratic. He’s close, and you can tell by the way his cock twitches inside you and releases small droplets of pre-cum.

His moans grow deeper, and he closes his eyes, trying to hold back from coming with all the self-control he has to make you reach your climax too, with him. But it’s difficult for him, and soon he has you back on your feet, giving a few final thrusts before pulling out of you and stroking his cock quickly through his orgasm.

He tries not to throw his head back in pleasure, wanting to see the ropes of his hot cum covering your pussy and thighs as you stand there with trembling legs.

Your mind is still fogged with pleasure, and you don’t notice what’s happening until you feel his tongue on your clit, which makes you let out a whimper. You look down to see your boyfriend on his knees with his head between your legs, looking up at you.

You run your fingers through his hair, and he pulls away, “You need to come quickly, someone will be coming for spot checks soon.” He warns you before returning with his tongue between your folds and two fingers inside you, stroking at your sensitive spot.

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,�� Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

EDIT: read the expanded fic on AO3 :)

[starlit-mansion]

i've actually been trying to think very hard if i've had an actual ship outside of my ocs or incidentally liking a 100% canon relationship as part of the story for the past three years and i'm coming up with like... one??? but tbh that one is 99% fan content and i like it just as much nonromantically as well

[simpjaes]

(not) strictly business.

Jay walks, talks, and fucks in business mode. anon request: could you do Jay and the reader in the back of his limousine?? wc: 1.7k A/N: probs not that good considering i'm basically brain fried from finals but ayyye! not proof read. MDNI.

The plush seats are no where near as plush as Jay's lips when he puts them against you. Bruising, so brash and rough compared to what you expected from him.

He looked so...expensive just hours ago, but look at him now. Acting like a starving man in need of something. Acting as if you paid for this limousine to bring him back to after a chance meeting. Leaving his wallet with all of those heavy weighted credit cards tossed to the side as if you'd never think to steal them. For a moment in the club, you thought his passing glances were coincidence. After all, you're not the prettiest or most flashy girl here tonight. In fact, you only got in because your boss put your name on the list. "Stay professional" has been the thought on your mind all night too. After five or so drinks though, professional becomes something else. It becomes flirting with your boss. Flirting with your boss' sister, flirting with the bar tender, with the bouncer, with anyone walking up to the table since it's not professional to go out and dance. When Jay approached, an upper management dick, or whatever, from your company's competitor, you remember drinking the paid for drink by him as if it was an insult. Like it didn't taste like fucking heaven. You endured your boss shit talking him, and the whole company he works for. You endured the fuzzy feelings in your gut when more drinks kept coming with his name attached through a whisper from the waiter. It was for the whole table just once, now multiple times, only for you. And where did that professional persona go when you looked your boss in the eye as Jay walked you out of the club? Where did it go when Jay's lips formed a smirk at your boss' more pursed expression, with narrowed eyes solely because you laughed?

That smirk now. So, so soft compared to that fake ass company-man voice used to speak through them. He's saying sweet words now. No more work-related terms, only praise, only wants, only needs. Curiosities. Oh god. "Ever fuck your boss?" Jay had mumbled against your neck, kissing along your pulse points and making damn sure you shiver. You lend him a giggle and a shake of your head. "Fuck no." You laugh out, drunkenly and slurred just like him. "Good." He had said back, while simultaneously pushing his fingers into you through the deep make out session with both your lips and your neck. You didn't quite pick up on the possessiveness there, nor did you really care. "Heard he wasn't of much use," Jay continues to mumble against you, angling his fingers up, down, forward, trying to learn your body and become an expert at it in record time. "Seeing how he let you walk right out with me, I'd argue the rumors may be true." You moan before you pause, wrapping your legs around him and feeling the leather against your shoulders. His fingers are working magic despite the tight space he's created on top of you like this, but still, you pause. He notes the slight confusion, or perhaps you're just as curious as he is. The response to your pause is a breathy laugh and a lick to your jaw before he whispers again, right against the shell of your ear. "Just shocked he hasn't tried anything with you yet." Oh, so those other rumors are true. You've heard your boss may be a bit of a playboy. A fucking asshole about it too. You didn't really pay much mind to those rumors though, after all...someone who runs an entire department usually has some enemies. "Oh, you think he'd fuck me?" "Who wouldn't?" Jay chuckles again, shutting you up efficiently this time when his fingers hit the spot he had been looking for. The soft, spongy surface planted on your upper walls. His mouth falls open when yours does, mimicking your expression before that slack mouth turns to a wide and sparkling toothed grin. "Right there?" Your arms and legs both squeeze at him as you nod aggressively, eyes closing tightly when you let out another moan, this time more broken. "Yes!" You choke out, chasing his fingers with your body as if to invite him to hit the spot harder, harder, harder. That's all Jay needed though. To find it with his fingers, watch you fall apart, and then leave you with nothing. He shakes his head at you when he pulls his fingers out, placating anything you want to argue by sliding his fingers past your lips and giving you a look that, somehow, silently tells you to "wait." You do, watching as his other hand makes itself useful by means of shoving his tight pants down in one go. He grimaces at the harsh feeling at first, the stiff waistband dragging past his pulsing cock all at once, almost making him shiver even through the pain. "Yeah?” He asks for confirmation through a slur, eyes drowsy but dark and piercing. 

You nod instantly, feeling your pussy throb at the need for it. You can’t even see it but fuck, fuck, yes. You want it.

You want it right now.  He mimics you again, nodding along with you as he gives you that same smile, with those plush lips. Then you feel it. The head of his cock feels average at the first prod of it. He’s tapping your clit, gently pressing against your hole, sliding up and down. You can’t truly pinpoint his size through this, nor does it really matter because you feel good regardless. You could do all this and not ever have a single glimpse of it as long as he knows how to use it. The slide inside of you is bigger than you had been prepared for though, and he is well aware based on your expression. The head alone, thick and dribbling with precum fills you beyond expectation. Your mouth falls open again, to that of the look he seems to enjoy the most out of you. He leans closer to your face now, inhaling your small, open-mouthed whimpers at the way he doesn’t stop.

He keeps sliding in, all the way, until he feels that tight hole pulse around him as if it’s struggling to fit the last inch of his girth. In all fairness, you are struggling, but your legs don’t loosen, your grip around his shoulders tighten, and you finally blink up at him with glassy, drowsy eyes. 

“Fuck–” He moans at you, watching the way you endure it, the way you let him give it to you however he pleases. And, well, he takes that thought and runs with it. Slamming into you hard to fit that last inch, holding himself there for a moment to feel your tight heat struggle, then he pulls out, and then slams back in. Over and over again, up until you relax and release that held breath of yours for him to swallow up. 

And you know, this limousine is quite spacious but Jay manages to make it feel as cramped as any shitty little car. He’s so crowded up to you, so tightly packed into you, you can't help but hold your breath out of fear you’d steal all the oxygen in this space. 

Still, the leather seats are comforting, slicking up the more the straps of your shirt nudge down. The sweat offers a slide similar to that of Jay’s cock inside of you. You move easily under him, and he uses it to his advantage for a moment. Lifting up and looking down at you, watching the way your entire body slides up with each harsh thrust into you.  The image is more delicious than any expensive drink he could buy right now, and goddamn do you look good in a space that probably costs more than your home. He can’t help but feel like you’d look even better attached to his arm, at his company, with his friends. 

“Quit your job.” Jay suddenly blurts mid-groan, his gut bubbling with arousal and pausing his thrust at the sheer arousal of it. Financial domination, financial bribery. You’ll take it just like you take his cock, he knows you will. 

You’d scoff at the mid-fuck bribe if it weren’t for the fact that you’re well aware of what even the lower level employees make at that company. You had sent your resume to them long before you considered the company you currently work for. He’ll probably think he’s done some dirty-tactic in the business world at getting you to quit, but to be quite honest…you don’t really care.

“Okay.” You respond in a broken way, a tone and pitch to your voice that Jay clings to. 

“Yeah? Gonna stay right here for me?” Jay continues, slowly urging the conversation back to that of fucking you, repeatedly. “Gonna do as I say from now on?”

“Yes.” You nod aggressively, wondering if having Jay’s cock in you right now means a higher pay later when you inevitably pack your shit and are given a new office, in a new building, in a much nicer part of town. 

“Fuck–yeah, that’s right.”

And, well. You’re both kind of right.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That night in the limousine ended with you in his bed. The mattress in his loft was just as plush as his lips, and his cock repeatedly proved to you over and over again just how much worth the decision would end up being for you. 

“Name your price–” He had mumbled against you at one point, as if slightly questioning that you’re just telling him what he wants to hear. 

“You don’t have to pay me to fuck me, you know.” You had responded to him, sick of the work talk by that point. “I’m not a prostitute.” 

“I know.” He had responded, solidifying in your head that the confidence he has is for good reason, and the fucking asshole is genuinely negotiating pay with you while his cock is lodged in your uterus. 

Well.  “Give me the highest paying job I qualify for.” 

Wife, is what Jay would suggest if he lets himself think with his dick, but he holds that one back. He’s not ready for that shit yet anyway. 

“Assistant.” He mumbled in a moan, gripping your tit tightly before shutting himself up with your perked up nipple. 

You hummed in response, brushing his hair with your fingers. Assistant to him, you assume. And considering he is a big wig in the company, you can only imagine that soon, your apartment, car, and wardrobe will appear far better than it is now. 

He’ll make sure of it. 

[celesteleoves]

Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

-

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

[igotanidea]

Haircut: Jason Todd x reader

Inspired by the post from @pop-culturereference about what Jason's fans really want from DC (link here)

***

„AH!!”

An involuntary scream left her mouth the second she came home. Jason was not used to his girlfriend being so expressive, but protective instinct kicked in as he jumped off the couch he was reading a book on and immediately rushed to her side.

“Y/N! Love, what happened?” his hands found hers, squeezing them gently, trying to ground her in reality and assure her that whatever scared her so much was no match for him.

“What happened to you?” she sobbed, not even trying to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

“Huh?” Jason frowned “Look, I know I’m not exactly model handsome, but—”

“WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!” she wailed as if someone was tearing her heart out or squeezing her lungs.

“What are you--?” he tried again, quite taken aback by the intensity of her emotions. She wasn’t ever crying this much when he came home bloodied and bruised. She never let a single muscle on her face twitch while  patching him up. But when he was okay, just chilling and for once – not getting into trouble she got into a waterfall mode. “Y/n? Look at me. Look at me!” he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.

“I AM!”

“Then you can see I’m all good. It’s all good! Come on baby, whatever fear took over your brain, you have to wake up from this!”

“Your hair!” she broke into crying fit again

“My hair?” he instinctively ran his fingers through his strands. “What about them?”

“WHERE IS IT?”

Oh.

Oh, so finally they were getting to the bottom of the problem.

He cut his hair shorter than she was used to and clearly she didn’t like it.

“Look, I just thought-“

“Was it Roy? I’m sure it was Roy. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him! How is it that I leave you guys for a few hours and you always end up causing trouble.”

“It was not—”

“Then who was it? Dick?”

“Ugh! As if I would ever let him anywhere near my head!”

“Then who helped you did this atrocity?” she pressed, taking a look at his inch-long strands.

“I did it myself.” He responded, almost sounding proud.

“You-you-yourself…?” Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stuttered. Her bag was dropped to the ground with a concerning sound of rattling, but neither of them care about the possibility of something being crashed. They had more urgent matters at the moment. The sense of betrayal slowly started creeping inside her heart.

“It’s just hair—”

“Just hair?! Are you insane?” she snapped at him “You should have asked me what I think first!”

“But—”

“Do not argue with me, Jason! You’re my boyfriend! It is not just about what you like! You can’t just act on whims without finding out my approach to the matter!”

“It’s just hair—” once more, the poor attempt at reaching her reason failed.

“How am I supposed to run my fingers through it now? And how am I supposed to live without your mop tickling me when we cuddle?”

“Y/n…” he smiled softly, cupping her cheek, meeting her eyes

“I liked them longer… I’m sorry if that hits your insecurities, but—”

“It does make me a little unsure, not gonna lie.” He chuckled. “But only a little. Cause what I’m hearing now, is that you liked my wilder look. For example when I was taking the hood off and have my hair all ruffled? Or when I was –”

“I see what you are trying to do here, Mr. Todd and I’m not falling for it.” Y/N read right through his intentions to invoke an innuendo and tried to step back.

“Come on, baby.” Jason quickly grabbed her waist, circling arms around her like two snakes, preventing her from backing out. “Admit it. You liked the bad boy image I had. It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Well it doesn’t anymore—“

“Guess that only means, I’ll have to try twice as hard… Cause too bad for you, sunshine, my hair is gonna stay like that for a while. So you have to like it. “

“Oh really-?”

“Most definitely. In fact, I think I’m gonna ditch the longer hair for good. This kind of haircut is so much more practical, you know. No strands sticking to my forehead when we get sweaty. None of them in my eyes when I fight only in the domino mask, no tangles and all that stuff-“

“You’re terrible!”

“Yeah, yeah I am, and what are you going to do about it baby?” he smirked and leaned forward, giving her a teasing look “you love me either way, we both know it.”

“Well maybe I should cut my hair too.” Her eyes glistened with mischief “you know- to match your new style.”

“What?” Jason turned a little pale. His princess was going to get rid of her perfect locks?! Over his dead body! (Even if that meant dying again.) “You are not!”

“Too bad for you I already made that decision. In fact I’m gonna go to the hairdresser first thing tomorrow—”

“I won’t let you out of here! You can’t just make such important decisions without talking to me first!”

“But I just told you.” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“And the answer is no!”

“It was not a question.”

“You are not cutting your hair. It is not only yours! It’s mine too! We’re a couple, practically like one being!”

“Well maybe if we attach some of mine to your head we can both have what we want?”

“I got a better idea. I’ll keep you trapped here for as long as mine grow back, how about that?”

“And what shall we do for so many months Mr Todd?” she hummed with a glint in her eyes.”

“Duh! I’ll make sure to convince you that the length of my hair is not the one that should be of your concern, baby…” Jason smirked letting his hoarse tone reveal what was on his mind.

Was he acting like a hypocrite? Yes.

Did she care? No.

Cause one thing that was absolutely sure about Jason Todd that there was only one like him in the world. Capable of twisting the words in a way that always turned the situation a little less serious. And whatever hairstyle he was sporting, she was not going to change him for anyone else.

[misaerabl]

Off The Ice

HOCKEY PLAYER ABBY X JOURNALIST READER 

SUMMARY: You were tasked with covering your university’s women’s hockey team, you see it as your chance to prove yourself worthy of becoming the next chief editor. Your main focus is Abby Anderson, the team’s star forward known for her cold, distant reputation. After observing her a few times, you’re surprised when she starts to warm up to you—unveiling a side of her no one else seems to see. WARNINGS: scissoring, eating out, fingering (both a and r receiving and giving). I would say this is kind of a fluff with smut TT. A/N: this is my early Christmas present tee hee.. I went on a bit of a whim writing this…  SMUT WITH PLOT or PLOT WITH SMUT WTV (please let me know if I miss any warnings!)

MINORS and MEN DNI / Word count: 9.9k words 

click here for part 2 (christmas special)

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The newsroom is buzzing with the usual chaos of deadlines and last-minute assignments. You’re sitting at your desk, scrolling through your laptop when your editor, Dina, stands by the door, holding a clipboard with the next round of assignments.

“Alright, people, we’ve got some big matches coming up,” she says, her eyes scanning the room. “I need someone to cover the women’s hockey team. We’ve got scouts coming to the next game, so make sure it’s more than just a game recap. I want a real story, got it?”

You glance up, the opportunity immediately catching your attention. The women’s team has been making waves lately, and Abby Anderson, the star forward, has been all anyone’s talking about. Known for her ruthless play and icy demeanor, she’s a force on the ice but practically a ghost off it. No one has really gotten the chance to uncover what makes her tick.

“I’ll do it,” you say, raising your hand before anyone else can speak up.

Dina looks at you, surprised. “You sure? It’s a tough one. A lot of pressure to get a unique angle.”

“I think I’ve got a good angle,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I want to write about the team, but also about her. There’s more to Abby than just her game stats.”

Dina raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Alright, you’ve got the job. But make it count.”

As she walks away, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. This could be your shot at making your mark—and maybe even getting that chief editor position. You grab your notebook, already mentally outlining your approach. The real challenge, though, won’t be writing the story—it’ll be getting past Abby’s walls.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

A few weeks later, you're sitting in the stands of the rink, notebook in hand, watching the women’s hockey team practice. The cold air cuts through the arena, but you're too focused on your task to notice.

Abby Anderson moves like a storm on the ice. Her swift, powerful strides cut through the rink with precision, her eyes locked on the puck, her focus unbreakable. She’s the kind of player who makes it look easy, but you know there’s more to it than that.

You’ve been attending practices for days now, trying to catch glimpses of Abby when she’s not in game mode. But so far, she’s kept her distance. She’s all business, all the time, barking orders at her teammates and keeping her interactions brief. If anyone speaks to her off the ice, it's either short and to the point or completely ignored. You’ve yet to get more than a few sentences out of her.

You jot down a few notes, trying to focus on the team’s dynamics, but your eyes keep drifting back to Abby. She's skating alone now, practicing shots at the net, her intense movements betraying any hint of vulnerability. You wonder if she ever lets anyone see that side of her—the one that's not all about hockey, about being the best.

“Hey.”

You jump, startled, and look up to find Abby standing next to the railing, her skates still on, but her posture relaxed. She looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Uh, hey,” you reply, quickly trying to gather yourself. "Just—just taking some notes. You know, for the article."

She nods, glancing at the rink before looking back at you. “How’s it going so far? Got a good story yet?”

You hesitate, unsure how much of the truth to reveal. “I’m still working on it. It’s hard to find the angle everyone’s expecting… but I think I’ll get there.”

Abby studies you for a moment, her face still as hard to read as always. “Just don’t make me sound like a robot on the ice. I know how that goes.” She smirks, her first real hint of a smile.

You can’t help but laugh, relieved. “I’ll do my best to capture the whole picture. Not just the stats.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Good. Keep it real.”

With that, she turns and heads back to the ice, leaving you standing there, heart racing slightly faster than usual. You watch her skate off, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had before. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to get past her walls.

But you also know it’s just the beginning. There's more to Abby Anderson than the game, and you’re determined to find it.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

A few days later, you’re standing in front of Abby’s dorm, the familiar nerves creeping in. The article deadline is approaching fast, and you’re still struggling to break past Abby’s walls. But today is different. After days of awkward exchanges and hesitant small talk after practice, you finally managed to convince her to sit down for a real interview.

You took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and heard the faint shuffle of movement from inside. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Abby in a casual hoodie and sweatpants, her hair pulled back in her signature braid. The intense, icy exterior you were used to wasn’t there—she looked... normal, like a regular college student.

"Hey," she said, offering a small, almost reluctant smile. "Come on in."

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the room instantly contrast with the chilly vibe Abby often projected. The space was clean but a bit cluttered, with hockey gear tossed on one side and textbooks scattered on her desk. It felt strangely intimate like you were seeing a side of Abby no one else ever had access to.

"Sorry about the mess," Abby muttered, gesturing to the pile of equipment. "I’m usually just too tired after practice to clean."

"No worries," you said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. "Thanks for agreeing to this. I know you’re not exactly a fan of interviews."

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, instead grabbing two water bottles from a shelf and tossing one to you. "Let’s just get this over with," she said, her tone a little more playful than usual. It was as if the pressure from earlier had eased just a bit.

You smiled, grateful for her willingness. "I won’t take too much of your time. Just a few questions about... well, everything. Hockey, life. What it’s really like being Abby Anderson, off the ice."

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she considered your question. "What it's really like..." she echoed, her gaze briefly flicking to the window as if pondering the words. "You make it sound like I'm some mystery."

"Maybe you are," you said, more candidly than you expected. "No one really knows you beyond the ice. You're always the tough player who doesn't talk to anyone off the rink." 

Abby’s gaze softened at your words, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she fiddled with the water bottle in her hands, turning it absently as she seemed to think about what to say. There was a quiet tension in the air, one that neither of you had expected when you first agreed to sit down.

"Yeah, I guess I come off like that, huh?" Abby finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice had a quiet edge to it, almost as if she was admitting something she hadn’t said out loud before. "I don’t really know how to be any different. It’s easier this way."

You felt a shift in the atmosphere, like she was allowing herself to be more open than she ever had before. The moment was subtle, but you couldn’t ignore it.

"I get that," you said softly, leaning forward. "But you’re more than just a hockey player, Abby. I mean, you’ve got layers—there’s got to be more to you than what we see on the ice."

Abby’s eyes met yours then, the intensity of her gaze making your heart skip a beat. For a brief second, you thought she might brush you off again, but instead, she looked almost… vulnerable.

"You think so?" she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was testing you, seeing if you’d take her seriously.

You nodded, feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t expected to feel. "Yeah, I do."

A moment of silence stretched between you, and you could feel the energy in the room shift. The playful banter had evaporated, replaced by something deeper, more intense. Abby’s eyes lingered on yours, her lips pressing together as if fighting back something unspoken. You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was as if the ice around her was finally starting to melt, and in the stillness of her dorm, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

"I don’t usually do this," Abby said, her voice a little breathless. "Let people in, I mean."

The admission hung in the air, and you realized how rare this moment was for her. It was raw, real, and far from the icy persona she’d shown everyone else. There was no game face now, no walls.

"You don’t have to let anyone in," you replied, your voice lower now, almost without thinking. "But I’m not like everyone else, Abby."

She took a step closer, her eyes searching yours for a moment. Then, without another word, Abby’s hand reached out, brushing against yours—light at first, like she was testing the waters. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart raced as the proximity between you grew more charged, more electric.

"Are you sure about that?" she whispered, her voice shaky, unsure, but her eyes steady as she closed the space between you.

Before you could respond, Abby leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft but insistent. You could feel the toned, muscular strength in her arms as she held you, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The warmth of her body radiated against yours, the firmness of her form pressing gently but surely as her fingers slid into your hair. It was as if her whole presence surrounded you—strong, sure, yet still carrying a touch of hesitation.

The kiss deepened as Abby caressed your hair gently, her fingers threading through it with a tenderness that belied her fierce persona on the ice. It was a contrast—the hard, determined athlete and the softness of the way she touched you. The moment felt like a contradiction, one that both of you were willing to embrace.

When she finally pulled away, her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. She looked at you with wide eyes, lips slightly parted as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Her hand remained in your hair, fingers still grazing your scalp.

Abby’s hand lingered in your hair, her touch soft but steady, as though she needed a moment to ground herself. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, eyes still locked on yours, as if searching for something—answers, maybe, or reassurance that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

"That was..." Abby’s voice trailed off, her lips curling into a small, uncertain smile. "I didn’t think you’d be... like that."

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the kiss. "Like what?"

Abby shrugged, a little bashful for the first time since you met her. "I don’t know. I guess I just figured you’d be... different."

"Different how?" you asked, your voice quieter now, but there was a playful edge to it.

"Like... not so—" She gestured vaguely between the two of you, looking for the right words. "I don’t know. You’re not what I expected."

It was your turn to feel a little bashful. You didn’t know what to make of this sudden shift in dynamics, but there was something about Abby’s vulnerability, her uncertainty, that made you feel like maybe this—whatever this was—wasn’t just some random kiss. It felt more like a beginning.

"Maybe I’m not," you replied softly. "Maybe we’re both surprising each other."

Abby’s eyes softened at that, and she gave a slow nod. She seemed to be processing everything in silence, unsure of how to label the moment. She was still the tough, intense player on the ice, but the cracks in that persona were becoming more apparent now.

"Don’t go thinking this means I’m some open book now," Abby warned with a smirk, though there was no real bite to it. "I’m still the same Abby Anderson."

You laughed lightly, the tension easing between you two. "I never thought you were an open book."

"Good," Abby replied, her smile returning, warmer than before. She finally pulled her hand from your hair, though she kept her gaze locked on you, her lips still lingering with a hint of the kiss you’d just shared. "But maybe... just maybe... we can see where this goes."

You nodded slowly, your heart still racing, but your chest felt lighter, freer as if a new chapter was just beginning to unfold. "I’m willing to find out."

The quiet between you lingered, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Abby’s eyes softened, and for the first time, she didn’t seem like the intimidating hockey player. She was just Abby, standing in front of you, her vulnerability laid bare.

"Maybe we don’t need to talk about the article anymore," she murmured, her voice low, almost like she was thinking out loud. "Maybe we can just... be here for a bit."

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could respond, Abby was standing up, closing the space between you. The shift in her demeanor was subtle but unmistakable. She was no longer the distant athlete; she was someone who wanted more than just the interview.

"You make it hard to stay guarded," she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands slid to your waist, gently pulling you closer. Her body was strong, and solid, but there was a softness in the way she touched you, a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

You swallowed, your pulse racing as you met her eyes. "Abby..." You couldn’t find the right words, but you didn’t need to. The air between you both was thick with the weight of what was about to happen.

Abby’s lips found yours again, more urgent this time, less like a question and more like an answer. She kissed you deeply, her hands threading into your hair as she pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours with a heat that made everything else fade away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as though she was savoring the moment. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, like she was afraid to let you go as if the distance between you both had only made her want you more.

You melted into her embrace, your hands finding their way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as if you could close the gap that had always been there between you. She groaned softly, the sound low in her throat, sending a thrill through you.

When the kiss finally broke, Abby’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. Her hands gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing across your cheeks as if memorizing the feel of you.

"I’ve been wanting this," she admitted, her voice hushed. "More than I thought I would."

You smiled, still feeling the rush of the moment. "Yeah," you whispered back. "Me too."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. "This doesn’t change anything, right?" she asked, her voice a little uncertain. 

You gently cupped her face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of her jaw as if to reassure her. "No," you said softly. "But maybe we can figure out what comes next..."

Her lips curled into a smile, and for the first time, it wasn’t guarded. It was real, and it was for you. "Yeah," she whispered, closing the distance again, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like the beginning of something neither of you was ready to define just yet, but both of you were willing to explore.

And as the kiss deepened, you realized that no matter what happened after this, you had stepped past the barrier that had once kept you both apart. Whatever came next, it was something neither of you were willing to walk away from…

She pushes you down on the couch, her body hovering above you. She stares deeply into your eyes as if she was asking for permission. You nod in response. 

Abby buries her face in your neck, kissing and nipping it, making you moan in response 

Abby's touch is confident and assertive, her hands roaming your body with an intensity that mirrors her personality on the ice. She knows what she wants, and she's not afraid to take it. Her fingers trace patterns on your skin, igniting sparks wherever they touch.

Her hands slid under your shirt, her fingertips trailing along your sides, feeling the soft skin beneath. You gasped at the touch, your hips bucking slightly. Abby took advantage of this, her hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss.

She broke away from your lips, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, "Can I... can we...?" She nuzzled her nose against your jaw, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "Can I take this off?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, and she reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head.

As your shirt hit the floor, Abby's eyes roamed over your bare chest, taking in every detail. She reached out, tracing a finger over your collarbone, down your sternum, and across your abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Her touch was light, reverent, as if she was worshipping your body. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and leaned down to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your chest.

You hissed in a breath at the warmth of her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair. She continued to place kisses all over your chest, her hands roaming over your curves. She paused at the waistband of your skirt, looking up at you for confirmation.

Seeing your nod, she hooked her fingers under the hem, pulling it up and off. She took a moment to appreciate what was revealed - your smooth legs, the curve of your hips, the lacy underwear that matched your bra.

Abby's hands slid up your legs, her touch leaving a path of tingling heat. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of your underwear, her eyes locked with yours. "Can I...?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper, full of need and uncertainty.

“Go ahead abby…” 

With a nod and a shy smile, Abby slowly slid your underwear off, tossing it aside. She paused, her eyes taking in every inch of you, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

She heard you suck in a breath above her, and she looked up at you with a mischievous grin. Slowly, she leaned in, her hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as she pressed her mouth to you, her tongue parting your folds.

She started slowly, exploring you, learning what you liked. Your moans filled the room, encouraging her. She slipped a finger inside you, her mouth continuing its administration. You let out a low moan, your hands fisting the couch cushion as you tried to keep yourself grounded.

She added another finger, stretching you, preparing you. Your moans grew louder, your hips moving in rhythm with her actions. Abby looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears at your beauty. She withdrew her fingers and climbed up your body, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself on her, the evidence of her ministrations. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your legs around her waist, pulling her closer. "Abby..." you whispered, your voice shaky,

"Mmm?" She murmured against your lips, grinding against you. She was still fully clothed, her pants rough against your bare skin.

"You're still dressed..." You panted, your hands reaching for the hem of her shirt. She grinned and sat up, pulling her shirt off in a swift motion. She reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside.

Her breasts bounced free, and you reached up to grasp them, squeezing and kneading them in your hands. Abby let out a pleased moan, her hands reaching for the button of her pants. She popped it open and slid the zipper down, shoving her pants and underwear down her legs.

Now Abby was completely naked, sitting astride you. You looked at her, taking in her toned stomach, her full breasts, the curve of her hips, her muscular thighs. She saw the awe in your eyes, and it made her feel powerful.

With a predatory grin, Abby lowered herself onto you. She wrapped her legs around yours, crossing her ankles behind your knees. She slowly rocked against you, her wetness rubbing against yours. You gasped at the new sensation, your hands gripping her thighs as she continued to move against you.

She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against yours as she captured your mouth in a deep kiss. She sped up her pace, her breath coming in short pants against your lips. She reached one hand down between them, her fingers finding that bundle of nerves and rubbing in time with her movements.

You cried out into the kiss, your hips bucking up to meet hers. The sensation of her rubbing against you, combined with her fingers on your clit, was too much. You felt your orgasm building, your vision blurring as Abby continued to grind against you.

"Abby... Ab... I'm... I'm..." You stuttered, your words cut off by a moan as she quickened her pace. She felt you convulse against her, your hands clutching at her back, your face buried in her neck.

She smiled to herself, pleased with the effect she was having on you. She kept scissoring against you, her own orgasm building. "Look at you," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're so… perfect.”

As she spoke, she felt her own climax approaching. She increased the pressure between her legs, rubbing herself against you with frantic intensity. With a loud cry, she came, her hips jerking against yours as her orgasm overtook her.

She collapsed on top of you, her breath hot against your neck. You ran your fingers up and down her back, feeling the dampness of her sweat. "Abby... that was..." you started, but words failed you. She just chuckled and nuzzled your neck. "I know,”

She stayed on top of you, her arms wrapped around you in a loose hug. Her fingers traced patterns on your stomach as she nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent. "Can we just…”

"...Stay like this for a while?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She nuzzled your neck again, her body pressing closer against yours. She felt content, happier than she had in a long time. She felt a connection with you, a bond forged in the heat of passion.

You nodded, not wanting to break the moment. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both lay there in silence. The only sound was the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The next day came faster than you expected. You’d barely gotten any sleep, your mind constantly replaying everything that had happened after. But as you sat in the café near the university, waiting for Abby, your heart settled into something more focused. Today wasn’t about the sparks from the night before. Today was about the interview.

The café was quiet, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in the hum of conversation and the clink of cups and saucers. It was cozy, with warm light spilling from overhead lamps, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You had a lot on your mind, not just about Abby, but about the article and what this interview could mean for your future with the paper. If you did this right, if you got Abby to open up like she never had before, you might be able to prove yourself worthy of the next chief editor position.

A few moments later, the door to the café opened, and there she was.

Abby stepped inside, her usual confidence radiating from her as she scanned the room, her eyes locking onto you instantly. She was dressed casually—athletic but comfortable—and yet she carried herself with the same quiet intensity that made her a standout on the ice. Her gaze softened when she saw you, and the familiar spark of something more was there again, just beneath the surface.

She walked over to the table, giving you a small but genuine smile. "Hey," she greeted, taking a seat across from you. "You doing okay?"

You nodded, trying to steady yourself. "Yeah. Just a little nervous."

"Don't be," she said, her voice reassuring. "It’s just coffee, right?"

"Yeah. Just coffee," you echoed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But you know... a little more than that, too. A real interview."

Abby chuckled, glancing around the café. "Right, well, let's make it count then."

You both ordered your drinks and for a moment, there was an easy silence between you. The pressure of the moment, of what had passed between you both, seemed to be melting away, replaced by something more comfortable, natural.

Finally, you picked up your notebook and pen, getting down to business. "Alright," you began, your voice steady but a little softer than usual. "Let’s start with hockey. You’ve been the team’s top scorer for a while now. How does it feel to be in the spotlight like that?"

Abby leaned back in her chair, her eyes focused on you. "It’s... a lot of pressure. But it’s part of the job. Being in the spotlight is something you just get used to. Especially when your team depends on you."

There was a confidence in her tone, but also something more—something that suggested the weight of being the best wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. You could sense the layers beneath her tough exterior, and you knew this was where the real interview would begin.

You pushed forward, asking more questions, and letting the conversation flow. As you spoke, Abby opened up more than you expected, revealing not just her thoughts on hockey, but glimpses of who she was outside the rink. She was driven, and focused, but there was a vulnerability to her that only seemed to surface when she talked about her team, her passions, and the sacrifices she’d made to get where she was.

The interview wasn’t just about facts anymore—it was about connection. And for a moment, you forgot about the article entirely.

After a while, Abby leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the shift again. There was a quiet tension hanging between you both as if the world outside the café had faded away, and only the two of you existed in this small, intimate moment.

"You know," Abby said softly, her voice almost playful now, "you asked a lot of questions, but you haven’t told me anything about you. What made you want to write about me? About hockey?"

You blinked, taken off guard by her question. You hadn’t expected her to turn the tables. "I... guess I thought you were an interesting story. I mean, you’re kind of a mystery to everyone. The tough hockey player. The star who doesn’t talk to anyone off the ice."

Abby’s smile was small, but it felt meaningful. "I’m not really a mystery. Just... focused. You get that, right?"

You nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "Yeah, I get it."

For a long moment, you both just sat there, the sound of the café filling the silence between you. The interview was far from over, but something had changed. It wasn’t just about the article anymore. It was about something else—something you both hadn’t been ready to acknowledge yet, but it was there, lingering in the air between you.

"You know," you said after a beat, "I think this might be one of the best interviews I’ve done."

Abby’s gaze softened. "Glad I could make it interesting," she said, her voice quiet but warm.

And as you sat there, talking about everything and nothing, you realized that what had started as a simple interview had turned into something else entirely. A new chapter, one you weren’t sure how to write, but were willing to explore.

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The final game of the season was just days away, and the energy around campus was electric. You could feel the anticipation building with every passing hour. The women’s hockey team had worked tirelessly all season, and now, the championship was within reach. For Abby and the rest of the team, it was the culmination of all their hard work. For you, it was the final stretch to prove you could handle the pressure of being the next chief editor of the school paper.

You’d passed the draft of your interview to Dina, the current editor-in-chief, and she had loved it. The words flowed smoothly, and she could sense the connection between you and Abby without you having to spell it out. That feedback had given you the confidence to continue pushing forward, not just for the article, but for everything you had on the line.

But the days leading up to the final game felt like a whirlwind. You and Abby were both consumed with your responsibilities—her with the team’s last-minute practices and preparation, you with your final edits and deadlines. It wasn’t the ideal time for the two of you to reconnect, but you knew that after the game, everything would settle, and maybe you could find out what this—whatever it was—meant.

You found yourself in the quiet corner of the student lounge, typing away on your laptop, trying to finish your article before the big game. Your mind kept wandering back to Abby, though—how her smile lingered after the interview, how she’d looked at you across the café that day, like there was something more she wanted to say but couldn’t.

You hadn’t had time to talk since that day, and now, with the pressure mounting on both sides, you weren’t sure when you’d get the chance to sit down with her again.

The door to the lounge opened, and you didn’t look up right away, assuming it was just another student coming in for a late-night study session. But then, a familiar voice broke through your concentration.

"Hey, you."

You froze, the sound of Abby’s voice sending a familiar rush through your chest. When you looked up, you found her standing there, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her long hair tied back in a messy bun. She looked exhausted, but there was a spark in her eyes.

"Abby?" you asked, surprised but a little relieved to see her. You hadn’t expected her to stop by.

"Yeah," she said with a small grin, taking a step closer. "I, uh, figured we should talk before the big day. We’ve both been too busy, haven’t we?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. "Yeah, it’s been crazy. I’ve barely had time to breathe with everything going on."

"I get that," she said, her eyes softening. "But I wanted to check in with you. How’s the article coming along? You’re going to be on top of the world when they publish it, you know that, right?"

A warmth spread through you at her words. "It’s... going well," you said, trying to hide the excitement in your voice. "I think Dina liked the draft. She said it’s one of the best interviews she’s read in a while."

Abby raised an eyebrow, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "I’m glad to hear that." She leaned against the table, her tone turning more playful. "But you better not make me look too good. I don’t want to get all cocky before the game."

You laughed softly, the familiar spark between you two returning. "I think I can keep it balanced."

Abby’s smile faded just slightly as she looked at you more seriously. "Listen, about... what happened before. I know we’ve both been busy, but I just wanted to say... I don’t regret it. Us, I mean." She paused, her gaze softening. "I guess I’m just trying to figure out what this all means, but I don’t want to run from it, either."

Your heart skipped a beat, the tension in the air thick with unspoken words. "Me neither," you said quietly. "I don’t know what this is, but I’m willing to see where it goes. After the game, maybe we can talk more."

Abby nodded, a small, genuine smile returning to her face. "Yeah. We’ll figure it out." She glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at you. "I should go, get some rest. Big game tomorrow, right?"

You nodded, feeling that familiar pang of disappointment that she had to leave so soon. "Yeah. Good luck, Abby."

She paused at the door, turning back to face you. "Thanks. And... I’ll see you there," she said with a wink before she disappeared into the night.

As you sat back in your chair, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite everything—despite the pressure of the article, the looming championship game, and the uncertainty about what you and Abby were becoming—you couldn’t deny the excitement buzzing in your chest. Tomorrow was the big day, and whatever came after, you knew you’d both be ready.

The final game had arrived, and the energy around campus was palpable. The buzz in the air was electric, with every student and faculty member talking about the championship match. You could feel the weight of the moment—this wasn’t just any game. For Abby and the team, it was the culmination of months of grueling practice, sacrifices, and determination. And for you, it was the finish line for your article—and maybe something more.

You had finalized your piece, and after getting Dina’s approval earlier that morning, there was nothing left to do but wait for the game to unfold. But as you stood at the rink, the sense of anticipation made it hard to focus on anything else. You watched as the team prepared, Abby at the forefront, looking every bit the fierce competitor you had come to admire.

Her movements were fluid, and powerful, slicing through the ice like she owned it. You found yourself drawn to her, to the way she held herself—confidence in every stride, but you could also sense something else, something beneath the surface. And though you tried to concentrate on taking notes for the article, every so often, you’d glance at her, catching her eye.

You were almost caught up in the rhythm of the game when the buzzer sounded, signaling the start. The intensity was immediate, the tension tangible in the arena. The crowd’s roars filled your ears, the game beginning in a blur of motion. You scribbled down observations, the action on the ice more chaotic than you had anticipated. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the game itself. Every move felt crucial, and Abby was right in the middle of it all, controlling the pace with every turn.

But it wasn’t just the game that had your attention. It was the way Abby played—how she seemed to be everywhere at once, her energy contagious, urging her teammates forward. She was the center of it all, and you couldn’t help but admire how she took charge, and how her presence seemed to push the team toward victory. She was sharp, a calculated force on the ice.

And then it happened.

Abby made an interception, gliding effortlessly past the defense. At that moment, time seemed to stretch out, the entire arena holding its breath as she lined up for a shot. Her eyes focused, and in one smooth motion, the puck flew off her stick and toward the net. The sound of the puck hitting the post rang out, but Abby wasn’t done. She was already there, crashing the net, securing the rebound, and slamming it in. The crowd erupted.

Your heart raced, the realization dawning on you that her goal had put them ahead—and it was the winning goal.

The game continued, but the tide had turned. With seconds on the clock, the buzzer sounded, and Abby’s team celebrated their victory. You stood in the middle of the crowd, still processing the intensity of it all. Abby had led them to victory, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her.

You waited near the locker room, hoping to catch Abby after the game. You hadn’t been able to keep up with the excitement of the game completely, but you had seen enough to know this was her moment. The sound of the locker room doors opening echoed in your ears, and you spotted her almost immediately.

Abby stood out from the others, her usual focused demeanor softened by the thrill of the win. She was still in her gear, her face flushed from the game, but there was a lightness about her that hadn’t been there before.

"That was incredible," you said, your words a little breathless from the adrenaline of the game still coursing through you.

She looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It was a team effort," she replied, but you could see the pride in her eyes. "Still, I’m glad you were here to see it."

You smiled, taking a step closer. "You’ve earned it," you said quietly, meeting her gaze, trying to find the right words. "I’m proud of you."

Abby’s expression softened, her usual confident exterior cracking just a little. She leaned in slightly as if weighing her words carefully. "Thanks," she said, voice lower than before. There was a moment of silence between you two, the noise of the locker room buzzing faintly in the background.

For a second, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. Abby’s eyes never left yours, a quiet understanding passing between you. There was no need for words, not now. The game, the season, the article—it all seemed to fade as you stood there, caught between the rush of the moment and the realization that this wasn’t just about hockey anymore.

As the team continued their celebration around you, Abby’s hand brushed against yours, a subtle connection that sent a jolt through you. She gave you a small nod before walking toward the rest of her team, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing from the game—and from everything that was unfolding between you and her.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

he newsroom was alive with a flurry of activity, papers scattered everywhere as the final touches were being put on the issue. The clock ticked toward 8 PM, and you were sitting at your desk, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy. The article was done. Your piece on Abby, her journey to the championship, and the thrilling game had come together perfectly. The highlight of the issue, the one everyone was talking about. It felt like the culmination of everything—your hard work, your ambition, and the connection you had built with Abby.

As the editors rushed past, congratulating you on how well the article turned out, you couldn't help but smile. A few of them had asked you how you’d managed to make Abby open up, some even teasing you about her sudden warmth toward you. "Did you sweet-talk her?" one of the writers joked. "She’s been ice-cold with everyone else!" You just shrugged, your mind drifting to her last words to you after the game. "Just doing my job."

But as the energy in the newsroom built to a crescendo, Dina appeared in front of you, leaning in with a grin. "I think you just earned the spot as the next editor in chief," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the buzz of the room.

Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked, not sure if you’d heard her right. "Wait, what?" you asked, feeling a flush of disbelief and excitement rise in your chest.

Dina chuckled softly. "You’ve earned it. You’ve got the article everyone’s been talking about, and you’ve proven you’ve got the skills. I’m officially putting your name in for the position." Her eyes twinkled with approval as she walked off, leaving you stunned, your breath caught in your throat. This was it. This was everything you’d worked for.

As the evening wore on, the final issue of the paper was ready to go to print, and it was only a matter of time before it would be released at midnight. You stayed in the newsroom, helping with last-minute preparations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby. What she’d said, what she meant to you now, and how the chemistry between you had grown in such a short time.

In the midst of the excitement, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. The message on your screen made your heart race.

Abby 🏒: Hey, where are you? 

Abby 🏒: I’m still at the party btw

Abby 🏒: I want to see you.

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips as you typed your response, the warmth from her text a stark contrast to the cool air in the newsroom.

You: I’m at the paper, finishing things up. I’ll be there soon❤️

You felt a little giddy, your heart racing with anticipation. After everything, the article, the win, the promotion—it felt like the perfect moment to see her again, to see where everything between you would go.

As the clock ticked toward midnight, you closed your laptop, the rush of excitement bubbling up inside you. The paper would be published, and your future as editor-in-chief seemed all but certain. But as you left the newsroom, your mind was on Abby—and the night ahead.

As you turned the corner, the soft hum of the campus night air accompanied your steps. The excitement of the newsroom buzzed in your veins, but everything seemed to quiet when you saw her waiting for you.

Abby was leaning casually against the wall, a small smile tugging at her lips as she waited, the blue jersey she wore a bold contrast against the dimly lit hallway. It was the same one her teammates all wore, emblazoned with your university’s logo—proud and unmistakable. But even in something as simple as a jersey, there was still that undeniable pull to her presence.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you walked toward her. "You didn’t have to wait for me," you teased softly, though you were secretly glad she had.

Abby pushed off from the wall, stepping closer. "I wanted to. Besides, I promised I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?" Her voice was playful, but there was something softer in her gaze, something more sincere.

You nodded, the air between you light and easy, but still charged with that undercurrent of something more. "You did," you agreed. "And, uh, I actually have something to show you." You pulled out your phone, tapping through the screens until you found the article you’d written.

Abby raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the screen. "No way," she said, her lips curling up slightly. "You actually made me sound like a good person."

You laughed, but there was a warmth spreading in your chest. "I didn’t just make you sound like a good person, I made you sound amazing." You swiped down, showing her the headline: "Abby Anderson: The Heart of the Winning Team." The words felt just as true as when you’d written them.

She studied the screen for a moment, her fingers brushing lightly against the phone. "I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to get me to open up like this," she said, her voice quiet, almost thoughtful. "But you did. So, thanks."

Your heart raced at her words. The sincerity in her voice made everything feel more real, like something was shifting between you two.

Abby looked at you, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer than usual, before the silence stretched. The sounds of the party down the hall faded in the background, the moment between you two feeling more significant than any celebration.

"You wanna head back to the party?" you asked, breaking the silence, though neither of you moved immediately

She shook her head, her  hand brushed against yours. She paused, her fingers lingering against your wrist, a soft smile on her lips.

"I think," she started, her voice low and steady, "I’d rather be alone with you right now."

Your heart skipped a beat, her words making everything feel just a little more intimate. The noise from the party down the hall seemed to fade away, the energy shifting in an instant.

"You sure?" you asked, your voice a little quieter now, as the anticipation between you two hung thick in the air.

Abby nodded, her eyes meeting yours, full of something unspoken. "Yeah. I’d rather spend some time with you... just us."

She gave your hand a gentle squeeze before she led you away from the noise, down the hallway, and toward her dorm room. The walk felt longer than it was, but it gave you time to let the anticipation build. Abby’s steps were confident, but there was a softness in the way she held your hand, something that made your chest flutter.

When you reached her dorm, Abby opened the door, stepping aside to let you in. The room was cozy, nothing extravagant, you took in the familiar feeling. It felt like a place where she could truly be herself. The familiar blue jersey she wore still clung to her frame, a symbol of her strength on the ice. But now, in the quiet of the room, she seemed different—less guarded, more present.

She tossed herself on her bed and pulled you in with her, planting kisses on you. 

The sudden pull caught you off guard, and you laughed softly as you fell beside her. Abby's arms wrapped around you, her strength both reassuring and gentle. Her kisses were warm, pressing against your skin with an intensity that made everything else fade away. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the sound of your breathing.

Abby paused, her forehead resting against yours as she caught her breath, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You met her gaze, a smile curving your lips as you traced the line of her jaw with your fingers, feeling the tension melt away under your touch.

“You okay?” she whispered, her voice husky and low, a tender contrast to the fierce athlete everyone else knew.

You nodded, your fingers threading through her hair. “More than okay,” you murmured, pressing your lips to hers again. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, as if both of you were savoring the rare moment of peace away from the chaos of the rink and the noise of the world outside.

Abby shifted, pulling you even closer, her embrace tightening around you as if she wanted to make sure this moment stayed real. The scent of her, the warmth radiating from her body, made your heart race. 

You sit up and move on top of her, her gaze softening as you did. “I think… you deserve a reward for your excellent performance at the game. don’t you think?” 

Abby’s eyes widened slightly at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She let out a breathy laugh, her hands finding their place on your hips as she looked up at you, a mix of amusement and anticipation in her gaze.

“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Is that so?”

You leaned down, your lips barely brushing hers as you whispered, “Absolutely.” The playful tone sent a shiver through her, and you felt her fingers tighten their hold, drawing you closer.

Abby’s gaze softened, the fierce determination she carried on the ice replaced by an openness that was reserved for moments like this—moments just between the two of you. The space between you seemed to shrink as she tilted her head to meet your lips again, her kiss more insistent, filled with a new kind of energy that made your pulse quicken.

She sighed against your mouth, the sound sending warmth rushing through you. Her hands traveled up your back, pulling you down until there was barely any distance left. The room, once filled with quiet, seemed to pulse with the shared heartbeat between you.

“Best reward ever,” Abby whispered, a grin breaking through before she kissed you again, deeper this time as if she couldn’t get enough.

Pulling away from the kiss, you start to unbutton your shirt, watching her gaze on you. 

She bit her lip, her eyes never leaving yours as you began to unbutton your shirt. She felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached up, helping you remove the shirt, her fingers brushing against your skin. "You're so…”

"...beautiful," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached out, tracing a finger along the edge of your collarbone, feeling the warmth of your skin. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the spot she had just touched, before moving on to kiss the sensitive skin just below your jaw.

She trailed her kisses down your neck, her lips lingering on your pulse point. She could feel your heartbeat fluttering beneath her mouth, quickening with each touch. "I want you," she murmured against your skin, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips.

She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she pulled back slightly. "You're right, I got a little carried away," she said with a playful grin. She settled back, watching you with hooded eyes, her hands resting on your thighs.“Ah! Not so fast Abigail. I’m the one who’s giving you this reward remember?”

You help her remove her jersey, and then the shirt she was wearing underneath. You trail down to her pants. As you began to unzip her pants, she lifted her hips, allowing you to slide them down along with her underwear. She lay before you, her body bare and exposed, her chest heaving with anticipation. Her eyes, filled with desire, followed your every movement as you leaned down.

She let out a soft gasp as you kissed her stomach, your lips trailing down to her hips. She wrapped her arms around your head, holding you close as you continued your path of kisses. When you reached her inner thigh, she spread her legs wider, giving you access to her most intimate area.

She moaned softly as you kissed her, the sensation overwhelming. Her hips buckled against your touch, her breathing growing heavier with each passing moment. She tangled her hands in your hair, pulling you closer as the pleasure intensified. "Please...please..." she begged, her voice barely a whisper.

She arched her back, her breath hitching as you continued to tease her with your mouth. Her legs tightened around your shoulders, her whole body tensing as the pressure built inside her. "Don't stop...please, don't stop..." she pleaded, her voice hoarse with desire.

Her eyes flew open, her mouth forming a silent 'O’ as you pushed two fingers inside her. She writhed beneath your touch, her hips bucking against your hand. "Yes...like that...please..." she moaned, her voice growing louder as the pleasure became almost too much to bear.

“Hm? You like it baby?” You hissed. 

“Oh god, yes...” She panted, her body tensing as your fingers curved upwards, finding that sweet spot deep inside her. Her head fell back against the bed, her body trembling. "More...I need more..." She looked at you, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.”

You smiled, pleased with her reaction, and added a third finger, scissoring them inside her. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as the stretch and pressure became overwhelming. "Fuck...fuck fuck fuck!" She chanted, her voice echoing through the room as she struggled to breathe.

She could feel the heat building inside her, her body growing warmer and more sensitive with each passing second. Her hands grasped at the sheets beneath her, pulling them taut as the tension became unbearable. "I'm...I'm going to...please, please!" She begged, her eyes wide and desperate.

With a final thrust, you pushed your fingers deep inside her, crooking them upwards. She shattered, her body convulsing as waves of intense pleasure washed over her. She screamed your name, her voice hoarse from shouting, her body growing limp as the aftershocks subsided.

As she came down from her high, she pushed feebly at your shoulder, her body still shuddering occasionally. “My turn,” she whispered, her voice still ragged from her release. She pushed you onto your back, straddling you before you could protest.

You landed on your back with a surprised grunt, looking up at her with widened eyes. She grinned mischievously, her eyes filled with lust and determination. She slowly began to kiss her way down your chest, her hands caressing your skin.

She continued her descent, her lips leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. Without warning, she reached out and tore open your already unbuttoned shirt, the fabric ripping easily under her strength. She tossed the shirt aside and moved on to your pants, roughly pulling them down your legs along with your panties

Once she had you fully exposed, she took a moment to admire the view, her eyes hungrily roaming over your body. She licked her lips before leaning down, her hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "I'm going to make you feel so good,”

She whispered, her voice low and sultry. Before you could respond, she wrapped her hands around your thighs, pushing them apart. She leaned down and slowly, torturously, ran her tongue up your length.

She took her time exploring you with her tongue, licking and sucking at your most sensitive areas. Her hands massaged your thighs, occasionally dipping lower to tease your entrance. She worked you with skill and enthusiasm, determined to drive you wild with pleasure.

Abby sucked on your clit making you toss your head back and grip her hair. You could feel her smile. She stops for a second and slides in her fingers inside you

She curled her fingers inside you, rubbing against your g-spot as she continued to suck on your clit. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against her face desperately. She added another finger, scissoring them inside you as she finger-fucked you relentlessly.

She could feel you tightening around her fingers, knowing you were close. She doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she pumped her fingers faster. Her other hand reached up to roughly grope your breast, pinching and tugging at your nipple. She wanted to feel you come undone.

The combination of sensations became too much and you came with a loud moan, your body shaking and convulsing. Abby continued to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure. She slowly withdrew her fingers and licked them clean, savoring your taste. "Mmm, you taste divine," she purred.

She crawled back up your body, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She leaned down to claim your lips in a searing kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on her. She ground her hips against yours, her own desire evident in the way she rocked against you. She was far from finished with you… 

She kisses your neck, trailing down until she reaches your breasts, sucking on your nipples. 

She lavished attention on your breasts, suckling and kneading the soft mounds. She bit down gently on one peak, causing you to gasp. She grinned mischievously and continued her torture, moving between the two and back again.

“Mhmm.. Abby… Shit”

She heard your muffled words, your voice hoarse with desire. She knew you were helpless under her touch. She bit down harder on your peak, relishing your cry of pleasure-pain. She moved her hand down to toy with your slick folds, mirroring the action of her mouth with her fingers. 

You bit your lip, staring at her. as if begging her to give it to you. You wanted her fingers inside your walls once again.

Abby looked up at you through her lashes, a smirk playing on her lips. She slowly slid one finger, then two inside you, loving how you bit your lip and watched her with eager eyes. "You like that, baby?”

“Fuck yes…” 

Abby pumped her fingers in and out of you, curling them upward to hit that spot deep inside. Her thumb rubbed circles on your swollen nub. "Look at me while I touch you," she demanded. Your eyes locked onto hers as your hips lifted to meet her touch, silently begging for more.

She added another finger, stretching you. She watched your face as she increased her pace, her fingers slamming in and out of you. Your breaths came in short pants, your moans filling the room. She leaned down to capture one of your moans with her mouth, kissing you deeply.

Your legs shook as she worked you expertly. She could feel you tightening around her fingers. "That's it, baby. Come for me," she encouraged, her voice low. You shattered, convulsing around her fingers as you found your release.

As your climax washed over you, Abby gentled her touch, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure. She slowly withdrew her fingers.

She gathered you in her arms, holding you close as your breathing gradually slowed.

She stroked your back soothingly, placing soft kisses on your shoulder. "You’re gorgeous," she murmured. She reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a warm, damp cloth, cleaning you up tenderly. 

She tossed the cloth aside and pulled you back into her arms. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly. She nuzzled your neck, her voice laced with concern. You snuggled against her, your voice sleepy. "Content," you murmured. "So taken care of…”

She smiled, her heart warming at your words. She tightened her arms around you, her voice gentle. "Good. You deserve to be taken care of." She kissed your shoulder, her touch becoming slower, more loving. "Rest now, baby. I've got you.”

Abby’s gaze softened as she watched you sleep, the subtle rise and fall of your chest lulling her into a sense of calm she rarely found anywhere else. The room was quiet, the only sounds being your soft breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in—a mix of contentment and the unfamiliar ache of something deeper. Brushing her thumb across your cheek, she whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me,” her voice so low it was almost swallowed by the quiet.

As exhaustion finally pulled her eyes closed, Abby held you tighter, as if anchoring herself to this moment. The worries of games and expectations could wait; for now, all that mattered was the warmth shared between you and the steady rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

[capquinn]

Daydreaming of being in a car with Quinn and he’s driving and does that hot thing men do when they’re reversing/looking back and put their hand on the head of your seat 😵‍💫

The car hums softly as Quinn steers into the lot, the warm light of the setting sun casting a gentle glow across his face. It’s quiet between you, a comfortable silence filled only by the low murmur of the engine and the familiar rhythm of his hands on the wheel. The air feels easy, settled, with just the two of you in your own little bubble as he scans for a spot, the end of the day stretching out around you.

You watch him shift the car into reverse, his expression sharpening as he gets into parking mode, shoulders squaring up as he leans back. Without thinking, your eyes follow the way he adjusts the wheel. His gaze flickers to the side mirrors, glancing quickly from one to the other. His fingers grip the wheel firmly, knuckles tightening just slightly, revealing a subtle strength that makes something stir in you.

One hand remains steady on the wheel, while the other slides up to brace against the back of your headrest, his fingers curling around it with a casual grip that somehow feels both protective and incredibly self-assured.

His body stretches across the space between you, his chest turning toward you as he leans back, bringing him just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his cologne. The movement exposes the line of his collarbone beneath his jumper, the fabric stretching just slightly over his shoulders, every subtle shift revealing the quiet strength in his frame. His arm is just inches away, muscles flexed as he steadies himself, fingers pressing into the headrest beside you, a gesture so simple yet easily commanding.

As he glances over his shoulder, his neck arches, his jawline sharp and set, his focus fully absorbed in the task. Your eyes trace the slight furrow of his brows, how his jaw tightens just a bit as he focuses, his concentration giving him an intensity that makes your pulse skip. It’s something you wouldn’t expect to find so appealing, yet here you are, a faint warmth rising to your cheeks as he takes control of even the smallest details with such calm assurance.

There’s something quietly magnetic in the way he owns this moment, a natural ease that feels entirely masculine.

Your gaze lingers, caught on the lines and angles of him, the smooth movement of his hands, the faint tension in his muscles as he guides the car precisely into place. It’s such an ordinary thing, parking the car, but watching him like this, so composed and sure, you feel that familiar flutter, an unsteady warmth that leaves you almost breathless.

The car eases into place, the entire movement so smooth you almost didn’t realise he’d finished. He shifts into park, releases his grip, and sits back, his focus finally drifting back to you as he unbuckles his seatbelt. That’s when he notices it — the look on your face, the way you’re biting your lip, a soft blush dusting your cheeks.

Quinn’s brow furrows, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he catches your expression. “What?” he laughs, eyes crinkling with curiosity, his head tilted just a bit as he studies you. He really has no idea. “What’d I do?”

You let out a small laugh, trying to brush it off, but he catches the lingering look in your eyes, and realisation flickers across his face. His grin spreads wider as he leans back, clearly entertained.

“Wait… that’s doing it for you?” he teases, his voice warm with both amusement and a touch of surprise, as if he’s just uncovered something new about you he didn’t see coming.

You laugh, trying to keep it light, but there’s no denying it. “Maybe,” you say, shrugging, though the warmth blooming across your cheeks completely gives you away.

Quinn sits up a little straighter, clearly pleased with this new revelation, a glint of amusement brightening his eyes as he watches you. A faint blush creeps up his own cheeks, a bit of color rising as he realizes just how much effect he has on you. The corners of his mouth tug into a grin, as if he’s letting the knowledge settle, enjoying the quiet thrill that even the smallest things he does, things he never thought twice about, can pull such a reaction from you.

His gaze holds you captive, his eyes steady on you, a knowing look swimming in the depths as he draws out the moment, savouring every second.

“Good to know,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low, smooth and teasing, as if daring you to keep looking.

There’s an unmistakable satisfaction on his face as he registers the effect he’s having on you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he’s more than a little pleased to know he can stir something in you without even trying.

You feel your body warm under his gaze, a flush spreading down your neck as you try to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach. It’s ridiculous how much he affects you with something as simple as looking back at you like that, the air between you charged with unspoken tension, playful yet heavy with attraction.

He’s just sitting there, hands in his lap now, his relaxed confidence somehow amplifying the pull you feel, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes to brush it off, but you’re acutely aware of the way your pulse is still quickening, heart pounding a little harder in your chest.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you manage, your voice laced with amusement, though there’s no real conviction behind it.

In fact, you don’t mind at all if he keeps staring at you like that a little longer, and he seems to know it. Your gaze lingers on him just a beat too long, your mind wandering, betraying how much you’re enjoying this attention. You catch yourself, finally reaching for the door handle and stepping out, hoping the cool air might clear your head.

Quinn laughs, unbuckling his seatbelt and following you outside, tossing your own words back at you with a grin. “No, you stop looking at me like that.”

But then he stretches his arms high above his head, his muscles flexing under the soft fabric of his sweater. As his arms reach up, the hem lifts just enough to reveal a hint of skin — the faint trail of hair on his stomach disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. You can't help but stare, completely captivated by the display.

But then, with a low, exaggerated groan that edges into a playful, teasing moan, he stretches again, arching his back a little as he leans into the stretch. The sound is intentional, and he glances sideways to catch your reaction, his lips curling into a smirk as he watches you, clearly pleased with the effect his little show is having. His eyes glint with mischief, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he sees you're not even trying to hide the way you're admiring him.

You swallow, trying to act unaffected, but the way his muscles ripple beneath his sweater, the effortless confidence in his stance, and that flash of bare skin leave you feeling warmer. His antics are working, and he knows it.

Quinn lowers his arms slowly, his smirk deepening as he takes a step forward to meet you by the hood of the car, his voice still carrying that playful, low murmur.

"You okay over there?" he asks, feigning innocence.

You nod slowly, eyes trailing over him, taking in every line and angle. As you meet his gaze, you bite your lip, feeling a wave of attraction so intense it leaves you momentarily at a loss for words. The air between you feels charged, and all you manage is a soft, “mhm,” the sound coming out an octave higher than usual, betraying just how not okay you are.

Quinn chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you, and his hand reaches up to lightly brush against the back of his neck, an unassuming move, but one that only adds to his appeal.

He then reaches down, his fingers slipping into yours, warm and sure, as he steps toward the sidewalk, guiding you beside him.

“Let’s go before you really start getting ideas,” he says with a playful grin, his voice light, laced with a hint of charm that makes it impossible not to smile back.

You fall into step, slipping your free hand around his bicep, leaning into him, drawn to the warmth and strength radiating from him, your body practically buzzing with the need to be close. In a soft murmur, you breathe, “too late.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[1eos]

and its funny bc the same ppl who will defend rohtkos or mondrians or matisses to the fucking grave will look at a clementine hunter and SUDDENLY all that shit abt how art doesn't have to be perfectly rendered and its an exploration of style will go right out the window. i wonder why paintings like these arent as defended....no idea why tho (i know exactly why)

no art movement is precious enough where everyone is obligated to like it or get it tbh. if someone hates modern art so much where theyre compelled to pick up a paintbrush to prove how 'easy' it is then that's a win. if they hate it and it compels them to look for contemporary subjective artists that's a win. like the point of art isnt just to enjoy dumbly its supposed to evoke emotions and opinions and conversation

[iamtired10]

dumb pillow

— fluffy headcanones

pairing - newjeans members x female reader

genre - fluff

synopsis - their reaction when they find you sleeping while hugging a pillow instead of them at night.

warning - nothing, nothing yea

a/n - crying bcuz i accidentally posted a draft earlier since im sleepy as hell and that draft was like 1 month old :|

— requested!

kim minji

minji’s a total sucker for cuddles, and when she sees you wrapped around a pillow instead of her?

it’s like her world collapses in slow motion. she blinks a few times, hoping it's a mistake, then she gives this cute little pout.

“y/n-ah, really? a pillow?” she mumbles, her voice all soft and sleepy.

she’s the type who tries to subtly nudge the pillow away, scooting closer to take its place without waking you up.

when that doesn’t work, she just gives up on being subtle.

minji will start hugging you from behind, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you close. “i’m way comfier, you know,” she whispers.

and when you unconsciously snuggle back into her? oh, you can feel her little grin against your shoulder.

“that’s better.” she’s so satisfied and snuggly, squeezing you tighter.

you’re not getting rid of her now, clingy bear mode activated.

pham hanni

hanni’s jaw literally drops when she wakes up and sees you all curled up with a pillow.

she’s in full-on shock.

“babe, seriously?! a pillow? i’m right here!”

she flops back onto the bed with the biggest sigh, throwing her arm over her eyes like she’s in the middle of a drama scene.

after about five seconds, she’s poking you awake. “yah, did you forget i’m the best cuddler in the whole world? why are you betraying me like this?”

you’re half-asleep, so she grabs your arm and pulls you over to her side.

she’ll probably spend the next five minutes fake whining until you bury your face in her neck.

“there you go, much better,” she mutters, stroking your hair like she wasn’t just acting like a whole dramatic loser seconds ago.

deep down, she’s just happy to have you close again, and she’ll totally tell the other about how she won the cuddle war later.

danielle marsh

danielle would honestly find it so cute at first.

she’d watch you snuggling the pillow with this big, soft smile on her face, thinking about how adorable you look.

but after a few minutes, she gets a little jealous of the pillow, wanting to be the one in your arms.

“Y/n, babe…” she whispers in the softest voice, tapping you gently on the shoulder.

when you don’t respond, she just slides the pillow out of your grasp so smoothly and replaces it with herself.

she’d giggle softly as you unconsciously wrap your arms around her. “much better, right?”

she’s so warm and happy now, snuggling closer to you and wrapping her arms around your waist.

if you wake up, you’d probably see her grinning like she just won the best prize ever.

kang haerin

haerin?

she won’t say a word, but oh girl, she’s watching.

she wakes up, sees you clinging to that dumb pillow, and her eyes narrow slightly.

she’s jealous.

without making a sound, she’ll just gently remove the pillow from your grasp and sneakily replace it with herself.

she won’t say anything, but she’ll bury her face in your shoulder, her arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

you probably wouldn’t even notice the change until you feel her breath against your neck, her soft hair brushing your cheek.

if you happen to wake up and catch her, she’ll just stare at you, expression blank but her cheeks slightly pink.

“what?” she’ll mumble, acting like she didn’t just steal the spot from the pillow.

she won’t let you go though.

you’re hers now, and she’ll hold you tighter, resting her head on your chest like a silent little cat.

lee hyein

hyein is not gonna let this one go.

she’ll wake up, spot the betrayal, and immediately pout.

“y/n-ah! you’re seriously choosing a pillow over me?”

she’s not having it.

she’ll sit up and start poking your arm, glaring at the pillow like it personally offended her.

“am I not comfy enough for you?!” she complains, her voice soft but so whiny.

when you don’t respond, she’ll huff and shove the pillow aside, sliding into your arms in its place.

“i’m better than that dumb pillow,” she’ll mumble under her breath, wrapping your arms around her like a little kid who finally got their way.

she’ll cling to you for the rest of the night, every now and then whispering, “see? i’m the best.”

hyein’s a bit of a baby when it comes to attention, so she’ll keep glancing up to make sure you’re still holding her.

no pillows allowed anymore.

a/n - no double update cuz im sleepy:((((((((

[cloudinwjns]

PRETTY WHEN YOU SMILE

Synopsis: Did you just smile? Very unusual

Warnings; fluff, established relationship, reader is described to have a cold personality, down bad Hanni (?),?tinsy tiny bit rushed (sorry 😁)

You were popularly known for you cold and intimidating exterior. No one could ever tell what happened on the insides of your head. And how you could pull the bright vice president of the school.

Hanni was the only one who seemed to understand your personality. She was very patient with you and kept on waiting for the day you’ll open up.

That alone was enough to make you happy with Hanni. You’re happy she’s as patient as that because some people probably won’t be able to keep up with that kind of relationship and ended it right away.

You weren’t really fine with PDA but there were ways in which you showed her that you truly care about her even if It didn’t scream as loud as the affection she showed for you.

A small hardly crept its way onto your lips. You never bothered to show emotions. Always keeping to yourself and never really expressing much.

But a day happened to be one of the very rare days you had showed an emotion. That day was the day Hanni would forever treasure in her memories.

It was one cloudy evening. Both you and Hanni were on your way home after a tiring day at school, when you spotted a black fluffy cat lying lifelessly on the ground.

It caught your attention because the pose in which it laid was to adorable to be ignored.

Hanni was a few steps ahead not taking note of your sudden stop. She looked back only after she felt your presence missing. Her protective instincts kicked in, leading to her whipping her head around like she was about to crack it, her body in full panic mode.

She immediately rushed back to the previous place she could recall only to find you squatting on the floor, admiring a black cat in front of you.

A loud sigh of relief escaped her lips knowing that you were okay and safe. Her expression slowly softened to the sight of you adoring the little kitty with a genuine smile. This was the first time she had ever seen you smile with sincerity.

It wasn’t like you never smiled at anyone, it just always seemed so fake, but now here you were, smiling to the point it’s reaching your eyes only because of an adorable cat.

There was just something about your new found behavior that got Hanni weak in the knees. You couldn’t take your gaze away from the cat, she couldn’t take her gaze away from you.

“Soooo….. you actually smile?” She pointed out after what seemed like minutes of watching you coo at the feline creature.

Your smile dropped, and your expressions went back to being stoic. Oh no did she just see you smile?

You cleared your throat, rising up from the ground to face her. “You didn’t see anything” you warned looking around in embarrassment.

She chuckled at your reaction, finding it cute that you didn’t want to be caught showing any form of emotion. “Hey you don’t have to be embarrassed” she giggled slowly extending out her hand to cup your face. “You look even prettier when you smile” she complimented watching as your expressions went from a blank face to a pouty face.

“Nini…..can we please keep the cat?” You pleaded looking at her with puppy eyes, your both hands clasped together. “Please….?” You whispered lowly, your eyes sparkling like tears were about to pour out.

“I—“ she paused not knowing what to do nor say.

There was just something about you acting surprisingly odd that grew an effect on her. She couldn’t bring herself to respond.

Of course she didn’t want to say ‘no’ and perhaps make you feel rejected. She thought that if she did that, it might be the last time she’ll ever get to see you act so soft and silly.

But on the bad side if she said yes, she’ll be forced to agree to co-parent the cat with you meaning she had to take it home. And just like a new born baby, all your attention would be drifted away to the cat.

She couldn’t afford to loose the bare minimum of attention you paid to her for a cat.

Her minds were racing with different contradictory thoughts, contemplating on what to say.

“I don’t know yn….. I—“ she paused, biting her lower lips after taking a glance at your face. You looked so hurt even though she hasn’t said ‘no’ yet.

“Fine. We’ll keep it but just promise me one thing” she demanded, placing her hands on your shoulder.

“What? Anything. I’ll do anything as long as I can keep the cat”

“That means you’ll have to pay equal attention to me and not neglect me after?” She said.

“…..yes I will! I’ll pay more attention to you, I promise” you smiled brightly, holding up your pinky finger to her.

She giggled. “Then it’s final, we’re keeping the cat” she cheered breaking your finger.

“WOOOOO!!” You exclaimed jumping up and down excitedly at the spot. “Oh thank you thank you thank you” you rejoiced grabbing her face to place multiple kisses all over. “Rahhhh! I love you so much” you blurted out for the first time, enveloping a feeling of shock in Hanni.

“I-I love you too” she stammered, her cheeks heating up from the sudden feelings she was having. Gosh it was like she was falling in love with you again.

This is an amazing moment she will forever cherish in her memories.