#like for real... how the hell did no one /Not/ know about this?

[bucketbueckers]

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

She clicks on the dim lamp at her bedside, her eyes returning to your figure when her vision adjusts. She shakes her head like you’re not real, her hands touching your hips, your waist, your breasts covered by the thin material of your top. You’re sure she’s burning this image into her mind forever – you’re doing the same. You may never be able to forget the image of Paige Bueckers hovering above you, eyes wild and gone, messy like you’re already five rounds deep and not just pent up from fucking around in the club.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise �� it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

[r3ynah]

DANNY NO—

Despite popular opinion, Danny and Paulina did become good friends after graduation, with Paulina not going to college but instead becoming a famous model and actor loved and adored by everyone in Metropolis, and Danny being able to study Aerospace engineering at Gotham passing with flying colors a real contrast when they were in junior high and while also interning at Wayne Enterprises, and it was working unbelievable well for the both of them.

They would try to meet up once a month, with being miles away from their hometown Danny was the only person she could rely on when something went downhill, they floated towards each other in search of any sort of comfort and normality—well what they consider normal that is.

They would pick between Gotham or Metropolis just to meet in a cafe and just chat about anything, Paulina asks about Sam and Tucker, but mostly Sam (the both of them had enemies to friends to lovers to enemies phase and no one can change my mind bout that, and the both of them are still yearning for each other).

after all these years she sees Danny more as a brother rather than a dorky weirdo who is uncharacteristically obsessed with space, but she loves him—but don't tell him that, and Danny also loves and sees Paulina as family, he knows that even when she complains about how he dresses she will always be there to accompany him shopping( with the excuse that'll she'll die if she's seen by anybody near him, in her words she said that he looked like he dressed himself in the dark, which is fair) and keeping him sane by forcing him to sleep when Tucker, Sam, and Jazz were too busy with their jobs and studies.

Most importantly Danny is there to protect her, sometimes she even offers to pay Danny to be her Bodyguard at galas which he refuses, this is also the reason why she sometimes gets protective of Danny, because if you won't let her pay then she'll just do the same but tenfold— she knows Danny can protect himself but the amount of time she gets emergency calls from the man when he gets injured by the GIW really puts her off.

And it certainly doesn't help when one of there meet ups at Gotham, vigilantes seemed to be around every corner and overly nosy 'civilians' who at first she thought they were there for her, well they did use her as an excuse to get close with the request of signing an autograph but she knew better.

with the way their gaze are fixed on Danny, and their stances always stiff like they're prepared to attack if the skinny man in front of her pick up a butter knife, this was the same in metropolis it bothered her that they were eyeing her friend with such skeptical stares, but at least she knew that the heroes that resides in metropolis won't do anything rash after all, she is famous and with one bad tweet of them from her on twitter she can definitely turn half of the population against them.

But in Gotham? she doesn't really know how the people and economy work, she has supporters there she knew that but they weren't so keen on turning their backs on their vigilantes which were the only ones that really tried protecting them, she's just an actress from another city she knew that she won't have the upper hand here, so she just keeps her head low and make sure that Danny is safe and doesn't get harmed.

It's not like Danny is some sort of rogue, yes his parents are mad scientist and all— but Danny knows better than to follow their steps, for Ancients sake Danny was the beloved vigilante of Amity Park he was there when it all went bad, when no one was there to save them he was there, he was the hope of their town—their god.

So she will rain hell upon earth if ever one of the people that named themselves 'heroes' try to lay a finger on Danny— Fuck her reputation she couldn't care less.

So why? Just Why did he get the attention of vigilantes? and the bats nonetheless, she couldn't keep her curiosity at bay, so she asks.

"Oh them? well, I kinda made my way to their watchlist when I decided to pass my half-assed research all about: 'travelling different alternate universes with the usage of Lazarus waters' " he causally uttered as he picked off the cherry tomatoes out of his plate and onto Paulina's

"did you know ectoplasm here is more commonly known as Lazarus waters? cause I didn't, and when I tried to research more about it online I was stopped by a fire wall, which was embarrassingly easy to get through, and you know what was more embarrassing? it wasn't even worth it, the collected data I gathered was not even 1/4 of the things my parents researched, and I'm speaking about the scientifically correct things"

WHat. Paulina looked at him speechless, "Danny no…"

"Danny, yes.." he cheekily answered, amused by Paulina's stunned face "Boy— you better be joking because I will actually call Jazz"

"Please don't—" poor Danny he looked like he was one second away from passing out and sleeping on the table, who knew being watched by vigilantes has a much bigger toll on his body than when he died.

A/N: Oh noo… Danny being seen as a god by overprotective and devoted Amity Parkers, Oh no…. Guys— I didn't know what happened i was just listening to random things and then Hozier started playing, and now we have this.

[oikarma]

love in the air

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you take your long-time friend as your plus one to your dad's wedding. you catch the bouquet. maybe that's when you start agreeing with the internet that . . . lando norris is a little more than a long-time friend to you.

a/n: thank you to anon for the request i had no idea they were dating LOL this was so fluffy

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tiktok

@/landossluttywaist I CANT BREATHE LANDO WAS AT THE SAME HOTEL AS ME

user1 you rich rich, then

user2 she probably gets paddock passes for doing her chores user3 guys why are we hating on this girl let her be excited 😭 i would be too

user4 what hotel is it?

landossluttywaist he's gone now (this was as he was leaving) but it was the four seasons in philly

user5 thanks for respecting his privacy and not posting until he left!

landossluttywaist lol i love him but at the end of the day he's just a human who doesn't need people hounding him 24/7

user6 but what is he even there for??? philadelphia??? there's ltr nothing interesting there...

user7 idk bradley cooper is the best thing to come out of that town user7 omg and also they won the super bowl user7 but that was a long time ago user8 maybe he's just an eagles fan

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gigihadid My darling B, what a wonderful thing it is that we found each other. I can't believe we're now married — I'm still smiling, because such happiness carries on for a long time. You are so kind, so sweet, so caring, so utterly magical. I am beyond lucky to have you. Your belief in me makes me who I am today and who I will be. This new chapter will be a long life, full of laughter, full of a new family.

∞ Always, your G.

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yourinstagram i'm so happy for you and dad <33 you are an amazing person and you bring so much light to our family! your dress was gorgeous but even more so was you. hope you have a great time on your honeymoon

gigihadid I love you so much ;) Thanks for coming. There's so much love in the air!! 💐 yourinstagram hey, hey, we talked about this gigihadid I didn't make the rule user1 i love how well they go together user2 bro if my step-mom was gigi hadid. user3 wait wait wait did y/n catch the bouquet??? user4 omg

user5 actually radiant

bellahadid best wishes from your baby sister 💕

gigihadid ❤️❤️❤️ user6 do they know they're real user7 omg bella drop the fit i NEED to know what you wore cause gigi's dress is already blowing all my expectations out of water

user8 man if only bradley had insta

user9 this is how i find out bradley cooper and gigi hadid are dating whaaaaat

user10 me too girl me too

user11 why is this the only post with photos????? i need to see all of it

user12 maybe they agreed not to post until after a certain time or like gigi got to post first cause yk it's her wedding user13 bella posted!

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liked by lando and others

yourinstagram to the two of you 🥂

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user1 omg y/n paints?? did she do that?

yourinstagram yes 🙂‍↕️ i gave it to them as a sort of wedding gift! user1 aww that's so cute thanks for sharing with us <3 it's a beautiful drawing

user2 oh gosh that's such a beautiful place 🥺

user3 y/n were you at the bachelorette

yourinstagram hell yeah user4 we need the photos baddie yourinstagram maybe someday, lol

user5 wait where did they get married

user6 philly, the last pic is where they announced their engagement user5 ohhh no wonder

user7 lando you sly dog why are you in the likes

user8 well they're friends user9 dyt he went to the wedding user10 tbf wasn't he in philly a few days ago it's not crazy

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f1gossipofficial Lando Norris was seen at the wedding of Gigi Hadid and Bradley Cooper.

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user1 I KNEW IT

user2 you guys are crazy 😭 how could you even tell those were him

user3 he's with YN IN ALL OF THEM

user4 where did these even come from

user5 isnt he dating magui??

user6 lando? user5 yeah user6 probably, but he and y/n are good friends user5 shit man they look good together user6 what do you mean these are all 120p quality

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f1gossipofficial Formula 1's YouTube account posted a full video of Y/N Cooper and Lando Norris on a Hot Lap.

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user1 why is this gossip it's literally just a video

user2 the way he looked at her and she started screaming at him 😭 poor guy just wanted some eye contact

user3 she's so precious but jesus the amount of swear words out of that girl's mouth user4 lando wasn't even shocked he was like well lol oops

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liked by f1 and others

yourinstagram lucky

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user1 LANDOS LUCKY CHARM SPOTTED

mclaren might need to keep you around in the paddock more often

yourinstagram 😕 'fraid i have a job

user2 oh she knows shes hot

user3 someone tell her we're not in texas anymore

user4 who cares she served

lando photo credits where??

user5 stop being a pick me lando user6 yn is this man bothering you user7 he just needs everyone to know yourinstagram let me breathe lan i can't like all these comments trashing you fast enough user8 i love her already

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f1gossipofficial Lando Norris and Y/N L/N after the Las Vegas Grand Prix

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user1 shit? shit!

user2 "we're friends" NO YOURE DATING

user3 are we sure that's lando?? it looks like y/n but we can't see the guys face

user4 yeah idk there are plenty of brunettes out in vegas user5 def yn tho shes wearing the same top in her last insta post

user6 she's so glad rn bradley doesn't have insta lol

user7 is gigi going to rat her out??

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you spot him slouched against the side of the taco truck, curls flattened from sweat and his own hands. there's powdered sugar on his lips. his phone's in one hand, the other holding a half-eaten churro.

lando sees you and his face changes.

"you came," he says, voice a little hoarse. "finally."

you walk up, wobbly on your heels, heart all over the place. "yeah. i had to. you were being dramatic."

"i'm hard," he says instantly. "and i missed you."

you nearly trip. "lando."

he shrugs, eyes dragging down your body without shame. "look at you. fuck. that top's killing me."

you’re giggling before you can stop it. "you're drunk."

"so are you. and you kissed me."

"you kissed me first, okay?"

"you were straddling me. in the club."

you pause. "you asked me to sit in your lap. you liked it."

lando nods. "loved it, yeah."

you're both quiet for a second. he's watching your mouth and you're watching the way his chest moves when he breathes. his hoodie's sliding off one shoulder and your fingers twitch like they want to touch him.

"you're so pretty it's making me insane," lando says. "like i want to fuck you and cuddle you at the same time and i don't know what to do about it."

you're breathless. "jesus."

"don't call him." your noses almost touch. "call me."

you laugh into his neck. "you're ridiculous."

"you're glowing" lando mumbles, hands sliding down your sides. "like. actually glowing. i can't believe i've known you this long and didn't do something about it."

you tilt your head back. "do something now."

he kisses you like you're a prize he's earned, slow, filthy, so hungry it makes your knees weak. his hands are all over--waist, hips, ass, back under your top like he needs to feel skin now.

you break away, panting. "lando, we're at a taco truck."

"yeah," he says, mouth all over your jaw. "so hurry up and let's leave. before i do something i'll get arrested for."

you grin. "you're such a slut."

"only for you."

he laces your fingers together and starts walking backward toward the street, still staring at you like you're his first and last meal.

"wait," you say, dizzy from everything. "what about your churro?"

"don't need it," he says. "got something sweeter now."

[chronicowboy]

bet the house (watch it fall) | 1.2k

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession," Eddie says, a perfect recital of the line he'd spent all morning in the bathroom rehearsing.

For a long moment, silence. Eddie has to fight the urge to check there's actually someone on the other side. Then —

"Eddie?" It's a familiar voice. One that has the tension seeping out of Eddie's shoulders all at once.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "Yeah, it's me."

"It's good to hear your voice again," Father Brian says, a hint of a smile in the words. "I wasn't sure I would."

"I wasn't sure either, but, uh." Eddie digs his left thumb into the middle of his right palm until flesh yields to bone. "I needed to talk to someone, and I wasn't sure who to go to."

Not true. Knew exactly who he'd go to. Bobby. But Bobby was gone. And Buck would have been his next choice, but Buck was hanging on by a thread, and Eddie wasn't going to be the one to break it. He'd just be the one to catch Buck when it finally snapped.

"You're always welcome here," Brian tells him, and Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut against the tears.

"This was my captain's church, you know?" he rasps. "That's how I knew about it."

"Captain Nash."

"I, yeah. How did you —"

"He spoke about you a lot. Spoke about all his firefighters, but especially you and a... Buck?"

"Yeah." Eddie huffs a wet laugh. "That tracks." Wonders what exactly Bobby would say about him. Imagines he must have painted a pretty tragic picture.

"I was very sorry to hear of his passing. He was a good man. I find that's increasingly rare in the world right now."

"He was something else alright." Eddie takes a deep breath, gathers up all the grief and the guilt in the back of his throat. "I wasn't here when he died. I found out over the phone." His voice breaks, and Eddie takes a moment to gather himself. Father Brian lets him. "Buck told me. And, God, I've never heard him like that before."

Except that's not true, Eddie thinks. He's heard it once before. When Los Angeles was half-drowned, and Buck was dirty and bloody and soaking wet and shaking, and all he had left was Christopher's glasses.

"I moved back to Texas to be with my son," Eddie says suddenly. Can't linger in that memory for long. Not if he wants to make it out of the confessional.

"Ah, I see." Another smile creeping into his voice. There's something about the way he speaks that reminds Eddie so much of Bobby that he has to turn his thumb, so the nail digs a crescent moon into the soft flesh of his palm. "You followed your joy."

"Yeah." Eddie sighs, drags a hand down his face, laughs a broken noise. "Left a hell of a lot of it behind though." Holds his breath for a moment. "With Buck." Waits for God to smite him down.

Nothing.

"Well, you can only fit so much in a U-Haul," Brian says easily. It startles a laugh out of Eddie. A real one this time. Sharp but real. "I'm sure he took good care of it for you."

"He did," Eddie agrees, just as easily. Then averts course like a coward. "I'm just. Stuck. Now. I'm having a hard time getting myself back to Texas even though my kid's there."

He leaves out the part where Christopher keeps telling him he's not allowed to come back until he's sure Buck is okay. It feels too big for such a small space.

"And why do you think that is?"

"I wasn't here when my team needed me. I don't want to make that mistake again."

"Are you thinking about coming back?"

Eddie laughs again. Another empty thing.

"I've been thinking about coming back since I left. I just. I never thought it'd be like this. Because of this." He shakes his head. Doesn't bother fighting the tears this time. "I wanted coming home to be happy. That's the only reason Chris is still in Texas. I didn't want him coming home to another ghost."

"That makes sense," Brian says not unkindly. "But, Eddie, I have to say, it still sounds like you're denying yourself joy."

And there it is. That fucking word again. The one that's haunted him since the juice bar. Since Buck on his doorstep. Since Eddie flipped that goddamn tablet and it took his whole world with it.

"Maybe." Eddie shrugs. What right does he have to joy when Bobby's was taken from him so cruelly? "Bobby told me once. He said that I didn't have to lose everything before I allowed myself to feel something." Those words have been on his mind a lot lately. Every time he looks at Buck, and he wonders if Bobby had seen something Eddie had never been able to look too closely at. "I didn't know what he meant at the time."

"And now?"

"Now, I know I haven't quite lost everything, but I've lost a hell of a lot, and I don't want to have to lose anything else before I allow myself to feel joy." The words come out hoarse and hollow. Eddie thinks, in another world, he'd get to say this to Bobby. And he tries to imagine the smile he'd wear when Eddie said it. That thing so full of pride, so naturally paternal. It winds him a little.

"What does joy look like to you, Eddie?" Father Brian asks gently.

"Christopher." Eddie huffs a breath, looks up at Bobby wherever he may be. "Buck."

"Mm." Eddie glances at the partition, just for a second, catches Brian's smile as he ducks his head. He loses his breath a little, looks back to the doorway. "What are you gonna do about it?"

And that's the question. The one Eddie's been trying to answer since he left. Since before that maybe. Since a quiet, half-honest conversation in Buck's loft. The one he gave up for Eddie. Since the lightning strike. Since the shooting. Since the well. Since Evan Buckley.

"I've got joy right in front of me." He shrugs, smiles just slightly. "I'm not gonna walk away from it again."

"Alright then." The smile is unmistakable in Father Brian's voice now. The way Bobby's would be in the engine when he was trying to keep them all focused but, instead, found himself getting sucked in. "Your penance —" and Eddie supposed he should have expected it, bringing this into God's house, but he'd thought— "is one Hail Mary."

"Only one?" Eddie blinks. He looks back at the partition, finds Father Brian's warm eyes already there.

"Something tells me it's gonna be a big one," he murmurs. Eddie ducks his head to hide the flush of his cheeks. How terribly easy he must be to read. How many people must have read him cover to cover before Eddie could even bring it upon himself to open the fucking book. How inevitable it all seems now. It's Buck. Of course, it's Buck. "Good luck, Eddie."

[innorality]

reconciliation with stack after the argument (part one here)

(part two of the angsty post I made)

you felt silly, truly. you honestly could not believe yourself as you walked towards Club Juke, their club—his club, holding onto the fur coat he had formely stolen for you. when you walked out after the argument, you had sworn to yourself that you would forget about him for good. screw him and his perfect smile, his honey-coated voice and his warm, familiar embrace.

truth is,

you felt ill without him.

7 years. it's been seven years since you had last seen him, and now that he's finally back, you had this underlying feeling that you couldn't just scream at him and leave. you needed him too much.

your heels dug in the grass below your feet as you walked hesitantly, finally getting to the door where Cornbread was standing. "now, that's a face I haven't seen in a while. how you been, sugar?" his deep husky voice comforting you, you smiled. "I don't... i don't really know." your fingers tightened against the fur of your coat. "I get it. it's been a long time." he walked down the two stairs that separated the both of you, getting closer to you.

"stack told me about the argument. i told him that no amount of money could teach him how to properly talk to a woman. that man's a true pain in the behind, ain't he?" his hand landed on the top of your head, petting it while you giggled. "hell yeah, he is."

"don't work yourself up, sugar. get in there and have fun, yeah?" you nodded and he stepped back, letting you in.

the loud music that was being played by a local band hit your ears, but you paid no mind. you headed straight for the bar, and sat infront of grace who was already grabbing a glass for you. "didn't expect to see you here." she commented, "nobody did." you shot back. "beer?" she went for the bottle and opened it, "please." you nodded.

"hope you've got some real coins to pay. all we get from the people here are wooden ones." she poured you a glass and slid it towards you, but a masculine voice echoed from behind you, overcoming the loud music with ease.

"it's on the house, for her." you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "if stack says so," grace shrugged, walking towards another client, leaving the two fo you alone.

you couldn't even get a sip of your beer before his hands slid around your jaw, cupping your jaw. he leaned down next to your ear. "you came." he affirmed, as if to confirm it to himself. "I had to see the club for myself." "and?" "definitely not worth the seven years." he quickly pecked your cheek before letting go of you and sitting next to you.

"you're still on about that." he looked straight at you but you refused to give him the pleasure of seeing your eyes. "how could I not?" and he surrendered, "you're right. i'm sorry." that caught your attention. stack was never one to admit he was at fault, and that realization made you turn to him slowly.

"i'm sorry for everything. for disappearing. for being so superficial. for not writing. for not even saying goodbye." he scooted over next to you and grabbed your waist, closing the distance between the two of you. he pressed his forehead against yours and your gaze flickered down to his lips.

"I love you." he mumbled. "say that again." "I love you."

"again."

"I love you."

"one more time."

"I love you more than anything else in the world."

you bit your lip and chewed slightly. you were torn between smashing the glass cup that was next to you on his head, and kissing him like you needed him to breath.

"fuck." you sighed out, looking back up at his eyes. "what?" he chuckled. "I really want to kill you, as of right now. but I also really, really, want to kiss you." and he smiled wider. that damn smile. "they say the line between hatred and love is blurry like fog."

"don't ever leave me again, elias." and you saying his name like that made his stomach twist in adoration, he really fucking misses you. "never again, I promise." and finally, he leaned in to kiss you. he pressed his lips against yours and you mirrored him, your arms snaking around his neck to cage him in.

you were weak for stack.

you were weak for elias moore just as much as he was weak for you.

[jocelynellie]

Jet Lag & Pancakes - KA¹²

Kimi Antonelli x Reader

Summary: After Miami, Kimi returns home early to surprise his girlfriend before as wakes up.

Contains: Established relationship, fluff, use of Y/n (sometimes)

The smell hit her before consciousness did.

Sweet, warm, unmistakable—vanilla, cinnamon, something sizzling on the stovetop. Y/n blinked slowly, her cheek still pressed into Kimi’s pillow, crumpled on the left side of the bed. The morning light streamed through the linen curtains of their Bologna apartment, soft and golden, diffused just enough to make the room feel like a dream.

Andrea wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

Her brain, still hazy with sleep, struggled to remember the race schedule. He’d been in Miami—it wasn't the worst track but the timezone differences definitely ruined it for him. He was due back tonight. She’d triple-checked his texts. His flight was scheduled to land at 8:45 p.m. 

So why did their little kitchen smell like pancakes?

She sat up slowly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. A creak of the floorboards outside their bedroom confirmed she wasn’t hallucinating. Someone was out there. But there were no signs of panic in her chest. No creeping dread. Only a bloom of curiosity.

She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet finding the cool wood floor. She grabbed one of Kimi’s sweatshirts—gray, oversized, still faintly smelling of his cologne—and pulled it over her head before padding out toward the kitchen.

He was there.

Kimi Antonelli stood at the stove in grey joggers and a black tee shirt, his back to her, his dark curls still damp from a shower. He was humming something under his breath. There were pancakes in the pan, a plate already stacked high beside him. A half-cut banana rested on the counter next to Nutella and a small jar of Y/n’s favorite strawberry jam.

She stopped in the doorway, the breath catching in her throat.

“You’re home,” she whispered.

Kimi turned at the sound of her voice, his whole face lighting up the moment he saw her. “Ciao, amore.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It never was with him. Not after the long years they’d spent figuring each other out, with time zones and circuits and days full of noise. What made Andrea special was this: the way he could make a simple thing feel like everything. Like standing barefoot in the kitchen, holding a spatula and smiling like she was the win he was proudest of.

“I thought your flight—”

“Changed it,” he said, flipping the last pancake with a little flourish. “Didn’t tell you. Wanted to surprise you.”

“You did.” Her voice was still sleepy, soft with disbelief and something that felt like awe. “God, I missed you.”

Kimi crossed the room in three steps, wrapping his arms around her. She tucked her face into his neck and breathed him in—soap, coffee, something faintly citrusy. Her hands curled into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“I was counting the hours,” he murmured against her temple. “Miami was hell.”

“You finished P6.”

“And I hated every second.” He leaned back enough to look at her, brushing his fingers over the curve of her cheek. “You weren’t there.”

“You know I wanted to be—”

“I know,” he cut in gently, thumb stroking over her skin. “It’s not about that. Just… nothing feels real without you.”

Her throat tightened. He said things like that casually, not to impress her, not to make her swoon. He just meant them.

She reached up to kiss him, soft and slow, and he leaned into it with a sigh like he’d been holding his breath since he left. The kiss deepened, then broke, and he smiled.

“Pancakes,” he said, stepping back. “Before they get cold.”

They ate at the little kitchen table by the window, where the plants she loved had grown wild and green. Kimi poured syrup like he always did—too much—and Y/n tried to pretend she didn’t find it endearing. He told her about the race, about a near miss with Turn 11, about how Max had nearly clipped Lando, and how no one on his team could figure out what Miami was doing with the tire strategy.

“And the hotel room had a leak,” he added with a grimace. “I woke up at 3 a.m. to dripping water. Thought it was a dream. Nope. Just Florida.”

She laughed, and he beamed like he’d just taken pole.

“What about here?” he asked between bites. “Did the plants survive?”

“Barely,” she said. 

“I knew it.”

They lingered over breakfast, letting the morning stretch out slow. Kimi eventually leaned back in his chair, full and content, watching her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

"I'm so proud of you Drea." She told him softly, before adding, "My champion."

He looked at her then, really looked, and something shifted in his expression. All that subtle restraint he carried with him, the careful balance between focus and modesty, slipped.

“You really think so?” he asked quietly.

“Of course I do.” She stood up, rounded the table, and slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Do you have any idea how hard I cheered when I saw your name at the top of the timing sheet? I almost threw my phone.”

Kimi laughed, breath warm against her cheek. “Now I really wish I could’ve seen that.”

She pulled back enough to look at him. “I don’t want you to downplay this. You’ve come so far. I remember when you were finishing P14 and still calling it ‘a good learning weekend.’ Look at you now.”

His hands found her waist, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite sure she was real. “I think I just needed to hear it from you.”

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” She kissed his jaw, then his cheek, then finally his lips. “I’m proud of you, Andrea. More than you’ll ever know.”

He kissed her back, and this time it wasn’t soft. It was full, deep, a little desperate—like the kind of kiss that came when someone finally let themselves believe they were worthy of being celebrated. She clung to him, hands tangling in his curls, and he held her like he didn’t ever want to let go.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched.

“God, I missed this,” he whispered.

“You’re here now,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And I’m not letting you go for at least two days.”

Andrea grinned. “Fine by me. But I might need a nap first.”

“I warmed the bed for you,” she said, sliding off his lap and tugging his hand. “Come on, pole sitter. Let’s make jet lag your co-pilot.”

Back in their room, they curled up together like muscle memory. Kimi tucked himself behind her, arms locked around her waist, their breathing syncing in quiet rhythm

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word count: 1.1k

[dark-l-angel]

JASON TODD - Drunk confession

~ 2:36 AM ~

~ Your lovely lil apartment ~

You were minding your own peaceful business.. cursed TikToks, fuzzy socks, and leftover pizza..

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The door... The blood in your body froze from fear..

And then came the voice.

"Y/N, MY LOVE! OPEN THY GATE OF SOLITUDE!"

Oh god. Not again.

You shuffled to the door and cracked it open. And there he was.

Jason Peter Todd. Leather jacket all askew, hair in wild disarray, standing like a man who'd lost a duel and his dignity. One boot on. One boot off. Bottle of bourbon held aloft like a sword of truth.

"Jason.. what the hell are you..?"

"Shhh." He placed a finger on your lips. Missed... Hit your chin instead. "I have… something important to say."

You stared at him. "You're drunk."

"Drunk?" he gasped, offended. "No. I am in love. And also slightly buzzed."

You pulled him inside before he could recite Hamlet on the sidewalk. Again.

He flopped onto your couch with the grace of a bag of bricks. "You know… I fought a guy tonight. A real bastard. Big. Muscles. Probably eats protein powder raw. And I won, Y/N. I won for YOU."

"Jason, please tell me you didn’t tell someone you were fighting for my honor..."

"I told him I was in love with the prettiest girl in Gotham and he said 'who' and I said 'YOU' and then I punched him in the face and broke my knuckle and also my soul."

You blinked. "You’re such a dumbass."

He dramatically rolled onto his side. Giving you his charming smirk "But I’m your dumbass, right?"

You didn’t answer. Not immediately. He pouted like a kicked puppy. Then sniffled.

"Oh my god" you said. "Are you crying?"

"I’m EMOTIONAL, Y/N!" he wailed. "You make me feel things and I don’t know how to cope! I used to be cool! I used to be broody and sexy and mysterious and now I see you and I giggle like a damn fucking schoolgirl!!!"

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. "A giggle?"

"YES. Like a dainty maiden. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. I want YOU to know that."

You sat beside him and pulled the bottle out of his hand. "You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow."

"no, i won’t"he mumbled, flopping his head into your lap. "Because tomorrow, I’ll still be in love with you. And also hungover. But mostly in love."

"..You’re lucky you’re pretty."

"Damn right I am" he whispered, already snoring with a smile on his pretty face.

~ 4:18 PM ~

Jason stirred on your couch, a glittery pink blanket over him, a glass of water beside the couch…

Then, those heavy-lashed eyes blinked open. He squinted like the light offended him.

"ugh... Did I die?"

You smirked. "Unfortunately not."

"Damn."

He sat up, groaning, clutching his head. "God.. what did I say?"

"Oh, not much. Just that you were hopelessly in love with me. That I was the sun to your broken miserable universe. That you giggle like a dainty maiden."

You were curled up in the corner of the couch, watching his shocked face as you recall him mumbling in his sleep about someone named Tony 'with two knives and no manners'. and as you played a video of him, yelling, "Y/N IS THE SUN TO MY BROKEN, MISERABLE UNIVERSE" at the top of his lungs.

"You recorded me?" he groans.

"Oh, sweetheart. I live for content."

He turned bright red. The tips of his ears betrayed him first.

"I take it back" he grunted, rubbing his face. "I wanna die now" he threw himself back on the couch.

You laughed, scooting closer. "Don’t worry. I’m only mildly traumatized."

He immediately sat down, glanced at you. "..You’re not freaked out?"

"About the Shakespearean meltdown? A little. About the rest? No."

Jason stared at the floor. His voice was quieter now. "I meant it, you know."

You looked at him.

He kept talking, eyes on his hands, thumbs fidgeting against each other like they were confessing, too.

"I’ve been trying to not say it. For months. Hell, maybe years. Thought maybe if I ignored it, it’d go away. But it doesn’t. It just gets louder. Every time you laugh. Every time you patch me up. Every time you don’t give up on me even when I’m the biggest asshole in Gotham... It's just your existence itself..."

You swallowed. Your heart thudded loud in your chest.

He finally looked up at you. And god, the sincerity in his eyes could knock the wind out of anyone.

"I love you Y/N. Not in the 'oh-we’ve-got-a-thing' kinda way. I mean deep. Stupid deep. Scares the hell out of me deep." You blinked back the sting of something in your throat. "Jason…"

He gave a lopsided smile. "You don’t have to say it back. I know I’m... a lot. I just didn’t wanna keep pretending I don’t look at you like you hung the damn stars."

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and leaned your forehead against his. "You idiot" you whispered. "I’ve been in love with you since the day you brought me cold pizza and a bullet wound like it was a housewarming gift."

He chuckled.. low, raspy and warm. "Classy of me." You swear you can feel his heart beating loudly as that blush of his glittered on his cheeks, the way his smile just became so full of pure joy "I thought so".

"..may I? Please?" You nod as he kissed you. Gentle, slow, and so full of everything he'd tried to hide for way too long. No dramatics. No explosions. Just Jason Todd, finally... Not finding a shelter.. but finally finding someone to call home ❤️

A/n : pls do not steal and if you did just give me credits.

[wendichester]

hiiiii! I think it would be really cool if you wrote a Dean x reader inspired by lay all your love on me by abba, like she was always chill but she just started dating Dean and yk what deans like, a flirt, so she gets jealous or something?

-💌

⋆˚꩜｡ don't go wasting your emotion,

summary. everything's going smooth between you and dean. that is--of course--til the moment he starts flirting with some blonde waitress right in front of you. oh, honey... he's got it wrong.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. tense n' steamy

wordcount. 649

notes / warnings.oh, the hardship that is dating someone like dean winchester sigh // jealousy, reader getting possessive, strong language, suggestive dialogue, heated tension.

You were fine.

Totally fine.

Until you weren’t.

Because watching Dean Winchester lay that crooked smile on a blonde waitress for just a little too long? Laughing too loud, leaning in too close, letting her write her number on the damn receipt?

Yeah. That cracked something open.

You’re quiet all the way back to the bunker. Arms crossed. Eyes on the window. Dean doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he’s just pretending not to.

Figures.

He throws the Impala in park like nothing happened, tapping the steering wheel with that usual cocky rhythm. “That was a pretty decent burger, huh?”

You don’t answer.

He glances over. “Okay. What’s up?”

You swing the car door open without a word and stalk inside.

“Hey,” he calls after you. “What the hell?”

The door slams. He follows you into the war room, boots heavy on the concrete floor.

“Alright, you gonna give me the silent treatment now?”

You whip around so fast it makes his brows jump.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Your voice is low, sharp. “Should’ve waited till your waitress girlfriend left her shift.”

Dean’s head tilts. “Waitress… what?”

You scoff. “You’re unbelievable, Dean.”

He blinks. “What the hell did I do?”

“She gave you her number,” you snap, arms crossed, heartbeat in your throat. “And you let her. Smiled at her like she was the highlight of your night.”

His jaw clenches. “Jesus. Are you jealous?”

You hate how the word makes your cheeks burn. Hate that he says it like it’s funny.

“No,” you lie, obviously. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, come on.” He throws his hands up. “I was being nice.”

“Nice?” You take a step forward, voice rising. “I’ve seen you be nice. That wasn’t nice. That was full-on flirting.”

“She wrote her number, not me asking for it!”

“But you didn’t throw it away.”

He’s silent. For a beat too long.

You laugh bitterly. “God, I was stupid. Thought maybe this—whatever this is between us—was different for you.”

Dean’s eyes flash.

“It is different,” he says, stepping closer. “You think I take just anyone home? Let just anyone sleep in my bed?”

“Well, I don’t know, Dean,” you shoot back. “You sure act like I’m just another girl in a bar.”

He’s in front of you now. Chest rising. Jaw tight.

“You’re not,” he growls.

You hold your ground.

“Then act like it.”

He grabs your wrist—gentle but firm—and backs you up until your spine hits the wall.

“I flirt,” he says, voice low, “because it’s easier than feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I might actually lose my damn mind if you ever walk away.”

You stop breathing.

“I’ve never had something this real,” he says. “So yeah, I flirt. It’s habit. But you—” he swallows hard, eyes flicking between yours “—you’re not just another girl. You’re the one I don’t want anyone else looking at. Touching. Thinking about.”

Your fingers tighten in his jacket.

“Then maybe you should remember that next time some blonde bats her lashes.”

He huffs a breath—half growl, half groan—and crashes his mouth to yours.

It’s hot and angry and needy. All tongue and teeth and months of tension snapping like a rubber band. He fists your hair. You bite his lip. He presses you hard into the wall like he’s trying to melt into your skin.

Your legs hitch around his waist before you even realize what you’re doing.

“You wanna know something?” he mutters against your mouth. “You losing your shit over me? Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You tug his hair, making him hiss. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m already cocky,” he smirks. “But right now, I’m yours.”

You look him dead in the eye, panting.

“Good,” you whisper. “Lay all your love on me, Winchester.”

And he does.

Hard.

Fast.

Devoted.

Because Dean might flirt with the world—but every inch of him belongs to you.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki + quirkless!gf gets attacked by villians

☆— fem reader, suggestive -not completely smut but something similar- emotional sexual tension(?) idk, man🙈

☆—a/n; so, in between the new fic that's draining my mind lately lol i have finished this little piece i have had in my draft for A WHILE🤭 i wanted to make it part of the Fuckin' Marry Me Series, however i liked the way it went like this, so i'm not gonna change it. you're free to decide if you want to imagine it in that world tho😉

Bakugou Katsuki is… surprised. Very much so.

He honestly thinks he has never been this surprised before.

There you are, looking tough and proud and brave –so fucking hot if he has anything to say about it. When you shouldn't. 

Don't get him fucking wrong, he does believe that women can be brave and all. Fuck, there are a bunch of Heroes that are women who are fearless and deadly. The prime example of that is Mirko, his third favorite hero after All Might and Jeanist. But if his experience with civilians, mostly women, has taught him something, it’s that they aren’t so… strong, mentally and emotionally, after the incident happens. And this is not him fucking judging, fuck you. This is more statistics. And commonly, women would be ones going through a harsh fucking breakdown if they had gone through what you just did.

Here's what happened.

You and Bakugou had been together for almost a year already and it had been… fucking magical.

Yes, he will fucking describe it like that because, damn, you had shown him how good it feels to be loved and cherished, and fuck, he isn't a fucking coward, he will admit that he is head over heels in love with you. You both had been so enraptured inside a bubble of love, cutesy bullshit and all annoyingly gorgeous pink, that Bakugou really didn't see the big fucking storm coming.

His day began as hectic as any other day at his agency. But it was close to the afternoon, while he was revising a new case outside the city with Deku that he received that phone video call. It was from an unknown number. Normally, he would ignore it. But he accepted it this time, don’t ask him why.

The image that appeared on his phone's screen made him mad –real mad– and completely terrified at the same time.

You were kneeling on a dirty floor, tied up, hands and legs behind your back, tape over your mouth. You looked angry, with tears streaming down your face and sweaty. That infuriated Katsuki even more.

"If you want her back, you know what to do Dynamight," a fucking distorted voice said before ending the call.

It didn't take much for him and Deku to find the fucking bastards, hiding in an old abandoned factory not so far from the city. To summarize it, they were stupid brats beginning their careers as villains, now, of course, continuing it in jail. Dynamight had captured others from the same group when they attacked a technology corporation, so they wanted their stupid little friends free. That's why they kidnapped you.

The biggest fucking mistake they could ever have done.

After that, while you were being treated by the nursing team, Dynamight and Deku were watching the camera records around the place and at the entrance of the factory, and they were… impressed. They were watching how you gave them hell in trying to make you cooperate and enter the factory. You were kicking, screaming, scratching, insulting them with a colorful language that not even Katsuki knew you were able to speak. Even though you were Quirkless, damn, you did give them a fight. It was even clearer when you kicked one of them in the balls so hard that both heroes heard the painful kick.

Fucking ouch!

So, back to the present, he is very surprised as he looks at you entering the apartment with your head held high. Not one tear, no breakdown, no fear in your eyes. Just annoyance. You still sigh because it's been a hell of a tiring day.

"Do you… Do you need my help to…" He can't finish the sentence. What he means is if you need help to bathe or shower. You said on the car ride back home that you were going to get one as soon as you crossed the entrance door to the apartment.

It's not like he hasn't seen you naked already, you have had lots of fun already together, but he knows that during these events people tend to prefer privacy. Isolation even. But when he asked you in the car if you needed to be alone, you said you wanted him to stay with you. 

So he is gonna stay the night… and all nights you ask of him.

"I'm fine, Katsuki," you smile, so bright and so cute it's a harsh contrast to how messed up you look with your hair tangled, some cuts over your face, and some parts of your clothes torn.

It hurts his heart seeing you like this. A constant pressure over his chest he can't soothe away, no matter how many times he repeats in his head that you are safe.

He looks down at his hands as he says, "I'm sorry."

"What for?" You chuckle gently as you walk closer to him and grab one of his hands, fingers interlacing with his. "If I remember correctly, you saved me."

He exhales a small sarcastic snort through his nose, "The reason they fuckin’ got you in the first place was because of me."

You shake your head, still smiling and looking at him like he's the most perfect man on earth, which Katsuki knows he isn't.

You're looking into each other's eyes when you say, "You think I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I accepted that first date?"

Bakugou Katsuki is out of words. He doesn't know how to answer back, because the only thing he wants to do is kiss you so strongly it might hurt you. Hug you so strongly that it may combine both bodies into one. So he stays still, holding back his need for you, while you stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek before walking towards the bathroom. He takes a deep breath. Fuck. He loves you so fucking much its driving him insane.

He was going to talk to you, to make you see how dangerous it actually was to be with him. He was going to convince you to break up, for your safety. Fuck! If he had been two minutes late today, he doesn't want to think of what could have happened.

But he can’t. Bakugou Katsuki is such a selfish bastard that he can’t tell you to break up with him. He wants you. He needs you. Katsuki fucking loves you so much he can’t breathe without you. So he won’t.

Katsuki shuts his eyes.

This never should have happened. He should’ve seen it coming, yet he didn’t, and that scares him to death.

The thought of losing you makes his chest ache like it’s splitting open. 

So he makes a silent vow, a determined promise: Never again.

He’ll train harder. Watch closer. Be better. Protect you from everything and everyone.

No matter what it costs him, he’ll keep you safe.

Because you’re his entire world. Because he loves you with every fiber of his being, and he’s never giving up on you. Not to fear. Not to fate. Not to anyone.

He is so concentrated stirring the soup in the oven a couple of hours later, he doesn't hear you when you enter the kitchen. He realizes you're there when he sees you jump to sit over the counter through the peripheral vision of his eyes.

"That smells good," you comment, a soft and delicate curve of your mouth in the form of a smile that makes him go weak on the knees for you, as you move back and forth with your little bare feet. You're so freaking cute he wants to bite you.

He smirks when he finally sees how you're dressed. It's one of his t-shirts that are so big on you it functions more as a dress. He wonders if there's something else underneath. Or not. This last idea makes him hungry, and not specifically for food.

That's also when he notices the purple and reddish marks on the inside of your thighs and along your legs. He feels his blood boil like the soup he's done cooking. He should have killed those bastards.

Katsuki takes a deep breath before turning off the oven and walking til he's standing between your open legs. Your eyebrows are up, kind of surprised by the sudden proximity, but it is not unwelcome.

He doesn't say anything as he starts to drop down to the floor until he's kneeling, eyes still locked on yours. His mouth then starts a slow and gentle path from your shin, pecking your skin as he ascends to the inner side of your knee, coincidentally kissing around each mark this dreadful day has left on you. Always softly, doing his best in never putting too much pressure to make it hurt again, but enough for you to understand that he is sorry you got each and every one of them.

Your breathing quickens, eyes never leaving his face. A face that shows how concentrated he is now in his task, with his eyes closed as his mouth climbs towards your inner thighs. A small noise, almost like a breathed moan, leaves your mouth when his tongue touches your skin.

His breath brushes against your skin, warm and reverent, and the sound of it nearly undoes you. His hands, calloused but careful, anchor themselves at your hips as his lips reach the tender flesh of your inner thigh. There’s a tremble in his touch, but not from hesitation. You recognize it immediately. It’s restraint. Every part of him is tensed, like he is being extremely conscious of every move of his. You know then, he doesn’t want to scare you away, and that thought warms your heart.

“Katsuki…” Your voice is a breath, half plea, half warning, but he just shakes his head against you.

“I know, Firefly,” he murmurs, the rumble of his voice caresses your skin, softened by guilt and affection. “I know you’re hurt. I’m not gonna push. But let me take care of you, please…”

Bakugou Katsuki never begs. But he does. For you, only for you.

He leans in again kissing the spot just above the last bruise, and then another, slow and deliberate, as if he’s memorizing every mark this day has etched into your body. Every kiss is an apology, every breath he draws is laced with the fury he holds back. Not at you, never at you. But at the world that dared touch you like this.

You reach for him, threading your fingers through his messy hair, grounding both of you. He exhales, a low sound that vibrates against your thigh, as his eyes close for a moment. Enjoying your touch. Like your touch is all he needs to survive.

When he finally looks up, red eyes meeting yours, the heat there is unmistakable. But so is the tenderness, the love that rarely expresses out loud, yet it’s unquestionable that he feels for you.

“You tell me when to stop,” he says, voice thick. “I’ll go slow. I’ll stop. I’ll just hold you. Whatever you need me to. But I need to show you… Need you to feel it. That you’re still here, that I’ve got you.”

And with that, he travels back up your body, peppering kisses along the way until he’s hovering over you, foreheads touching, breath mingling. His hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing gently beneath your eye, and for a long moment, all he does is look at you. Eyes so focused on you, you can feel the burn, but his body still.

“Let me make you feel safe again, Firefly…”

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Lazy Man's Body Pillow | Belphegor Attacker | Summary | SPOILERS

Hey y'all! Like the fancy thing I did with the above banner? Ngl the hardest part was compressing the damn thing because I apparently made it way to fucking large lol But anyways, it seems this time around a lot of y'all were able to get his card which shows some promise that the gacha rates have changed? Maybe?? We'll seeeeeeee

Usually I do the entire "summary then screenshot" thing but I realized that format works better for exclusive cards than ones we're gonna see in 3 months. So we're back to my, "screenshots with commentary" format. Let's hope I can do this with only 29 screenshots 😭

Let's kick it off with

So it seems that MC has won some kind of "lottery", but there's no foolin' MC when it's very blantantly written on the back of the ticket that the host Kingdom is Niflheim and it didn't take much for Beleth to admit that he did some slick shit just so he could go on....

checks notes

v a c a t i o n .

Now, I love Beleth. Love me some him. But I'll be damned if he sets me up randomly to babysit his lazy ass King/Husband (I don't make the rules). But oh well we're fucking here, would of been nice if you, idk just asked me, Beleth 💀

So we get some lore about how Niflheim's palace works! We were told that it was militaristic, cutthroat and what not. Turns out it's ran like a huge office, everyone pushing paperwork, moving around boxes, they even have departments and they have to get Belphie's approval of things.

It has me wondering honestly why they're so busy? Like in each country I've noticed there's paperwork to file or sign and I'm just like please don't let Hell be like this if it exists because I'd cry like wtf I died to leave this shit on Earth not relive it again??? lol

But what I really noticed is that Niflheim has these cute demon cats similar to Harumon running around and earning their keep. I wish my cats could get a job and help with these bills they rack up.

there goes my baby......

AHEM

I mean...hi, hello here to work part-time because I can't be bothered to work full-time because idk unless you want me to work full-time where I'm your secretary 😏😏😏

So after Belphie pretty much half-assed explained where the breakroom and offices are in the palace, here's Vassago! Though he seems like he's pretty chill, I can sense he's actually annoyed that he has to monitor MC and "train" them. It reminds me of starting a new job and the mentor they set you up with is either overly excited or basically acts as if they don't want to be there. Or you get that rare one who's happy as fuck to mentor you because that means they don't have to do what they were normally doing.

Also, it seems that tension between Agares/Vassago and the Niflheim crew is evident. He respects Beleth and Belphegor's titles but when it comes to loyalty it's always gonna be to Agares.

FOR NOW THO

And during this little interaction, Belphie gets tired of them talking so much so he pretty much yeets MC's clothes off. No one cares though because they're too busy working.

Here is the first instance of Belphie not caring about MC's feelings or comfort. I imagine most folks would not just wanna be striped naked in a epicenter of busy office workers. All because....we were talking too much? 😭 P L E A S E

I won't lie though, separating myself from MC-

if that man wanted to shut me up, this is way to do it 💀

Vassago tellin' it like it is. "Ain't nobody said nothin' 'bout y'all bein' treated like guests" had me cackling because he basically said "Bitch you thought...."

Vassago got the time. Don't mess with him.

So now we're back to MC being naked, and ofc they hate it so they ask for clothes. The only thing available to fit them is a maid uniform (I'll showcase both fits for fem and masc mc in another post) because that's what Belphie likes.

freak

I know somethin' else that will fit real nice too, *sips tea*

with his smug ass lookin' face.

And it's funnier because if you remember in Levi's maid card...he's the one that gave him the maid hentai book in the first place so we already know why he likes that maid outfit....

also....notice how no one else has to wear it?

this is on purposssseeeeeeeeeeee

And now we get to the part where Belphie leans on MC asking for them to carry him. I always wondered if we could carry him??? I imagine devils are way heavier and the gravity works differently in Hell, like maybe a lot of things are heavier than usual? Or maybe lighter? In this universe Hell seems to be in a completely different realm/planet than Earth instead of that "underground" theory.

With that being said, I'm pretty sure we're able to carry him, but he's still fucking heavy since the description says MC was five times slower than Vassago. And on top of that he's telling MC where to go...which is the least he can do considering they can't keep up with Vassago lol

I also like the little attitude he gets if you get mouthy with him. But the thing about it, is that once again MC yields to it 😭 like I wanna know what happens if you just dropped him on the floor 💀

Now we've made it to where MC has reached a dining room. Vassago in so little words said that MC was going to be feeding Belphie, and how to be a perfect subordinate. We even get a cameo from Agares, and Vassago immediately goes into servant mode showing MC how it's done.

And then-

I'm sorry y'all but I lost it when he started doing this....

First....feeding him, making sure his glass is full and then he pretty much starts fingering me during????? AND SAYS ITS WARM AND PERFECT TO TAKE A NAP BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS HELLO???

I fear I would crumble

A funny part though is that MC tried to protest, and Vassago was like don't you fucking dare >__> because he instructed them to only speak when spoken to lol

I'm enjoying Vassago rn because he really is that guy. Like don't make his job harder than it needs to be and he doesn't have to chide as much.

And this really shows when MC is told to strip naked and clean the stairs, no underwear either????

Vassago literally says that's MC's job as a maid, and Belphie was no help, basically only stating to take off their clothes and clean the stairs.

damn we strict here ain't we?

I'd like to pause and talk about MC's dynamic with Belphie real quick. Clearly, Belphie's way of interacting with MC is that they are simply just someone to clean, cater, and do what he says just like the rest of his subordinates around him. There's no special treatment, no favor, no anything. For once we get to see a different perspective of how Belphie treats them versus any one else. Satan, Mammon, Lucifer, not even Leviathan would make MC clean their palace naked. Asmo? Well...the only reason they'd be naked is...lol I believe Belphie is actually the only King that doesn't show MC any special bias. I mean even Beleth pretty much skiddadled the fuck outta there once it was clear that MC couldn't leave and he was officially on vacay. And I can understand exactly why....this is how things run in Niflheim and in the event the devils of this region were even thrilled to get a day off if Belphie won the contest. NOW compared to how he acted toward MC when he wins the contest versus now, could very much have to do with the circumstance, and tbh it could of happened before or after or this is a completely different timeline altogether. If y'all remember Beel's selfie card, he treated MC very poorly as if he had no idea who they were and even belittled them for a "lack of experience". Certainly though, that was probably a "clone" of his or it was the real Beel and he just hadn't met MC yet prior to.

Going back to Belphie's card though...and MC cleaning the stairs naked....we get another cameo....

DRE IN THE HOUSEEEEE

So yeah ofc he didn't care MC was there naked, he literally can't see them. But I'm pretty sure he's aware they are there on the stairs since he walked past them no problem.

I laughed here because MC's thigh sweat or pre-cum whatever the hell it was dripped on the floor and Dre was like 🤨🤨🤷‍♀️ and just left. He does NAWT careeeeee lmao

If we're being honest he probably smelled them too. But as per usual he's got his mind on other things. No time for whatever foolishness is goin' on here.

Also, to mention that MC says that they felt putting on the maid outfit rewired something in their brain to where even though they are embarrassedthey still wanted to do whatever Belphie ordered them to do.

imma be honest, for me it would be because i'm tryna get that dick so yeah i'll listen....he already stuck his fingers in the coochie so let's gooooooooooo

And Belphie does more shit that I like....because he play around too much.

-While getting him dressed, he had a hard on just out and about -MC was being told be focused and silent while serving tea and he just comes up and grabs them in their chest to get them to make a noise

LIEK STOP PLAYIN' WITH ME BRO I WILL LITERALLY just do nothing and let you do it I'm weak just please keep touching me.

Bathin was concerned about MC being there, and Gusion clocked MC's ass and was like "Yeah you like this shit don't you?"

He claims it's because there's always patterns he can read where can tell immediately if someone is "that type" that claims they hate something but they really like it.

he would have clocked me on a lot things then because damn

"Ha, caught yo ass." 💀💀💀💀💀💀

But then both he and Bathin realize quickly that this is all a roleplay to Belphie based off the maid hentai series he owns. So remember what I said earlier? Yup it's confirmed...he's really just doin' this shit on purpose to fulfill the fantasies of one of his favorite series.

It has me wondering.....how many other series he would play out and how many cosplay outfits he has for that playtime....

Belphie a freak and I like it.

Hol' up, how we get here???

Glad to tell y'all.

Vassago came up in the hallway, to much of Gusion and Bathin's distaste...and told MC the rules of putting Belphie to sleep. Bathin and Gusion in so little words told MC that Beleth is really the only one who can deal with Belphie's horrible sleeping habits and "good luck with that". At 10 pm exactly, everyone locked their doors in the entire palace.....

literally me if I were MC because what the hell is going on.....

So there is MC, taking out their notebook to write down what Belphie does in his sleep, only to then doze off because they're rightfully tired...and then bam there's Belphie jackin' it in front of them.

NOW ME y'all already know what time it would be.

locked in, mouth wide open, ready to serve customer service. *plays cupcakke songs in the background*

So our boy is a leaker, and for this part here, MC is basically sitting there in the dim light watching him stroke himself and he's like half-awake. The way that it's described that the room is hot, smells like him, and MC is sweating has me being like "damn probs humid as fuck in that room but aight"

And then...Belphie suddenly realizes that MC is in the room with him. And because of that now all hell has broke loose.

Okay well you ain't gotta ask me twice, I'll spread whatever hole I have available sir.

YESSIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

cumhole, cumslut, cumdumpster, whatever you need I'm available 24 hours for ya.

He even tells MC to swallow it....like????? he even threatened to get Vassago to come in if MC kept hesitating and I'm just imagining a pissed off Vassago coming in being like "Look bitch if you don't get this shit right, it's bad enough I have to come in here...." 💀💀💀💀

This was right after he said he would make sure MC had something to put down in that journal.......

He starts pushing MC outside the room, in his half-dazed state....which I'm like wait this is like a sleepwalking wet dream omg or....a play on sonophilia where you're fucking but still asleep. (which I've written beforeeeeeee with Amon! and for a different fandom, Nanami actually from JJK)

But anyways, we get some lore with how Belphie usually is at night time. He wanders around the halls of the palace ranting like he's drunk, or thinking there's an angel going around, just basically causing trouble and everyone locks themselves up during his bad sleep habits. I imagine he does this every goddamn night so that's why everyone is shut in their offices at 10pm.

Gusion is concerned about working overtime and getting off early, Bathin is planning to use Harumon to move MC somewhere else if it gets bad, and then there's Vassago.....thinking about how he's going to give Agares ripe oranges in the morning😭

Bless him.

MC asked how far they were going, Belphie stops and starts making out with them....love me a man who doesn't care that his spunk is all in your mouth and tongues you down like he did.

f u c k

Now this is him suckin' on some titties....and I'm just like MISSED OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE HIM AN EATER RIGHT NOW LIKE???? MOVE YA HEAD LOWER???????

He'd be such a lazy ass with eating you out or giving head but at least he'd do it because he's half asleep and horny as fuck.

Tellin' MC they can't clean right, they can't smile right or doing anything correct but got them bent over and losing their mind.

these backshots about to go crazy

And like??? I'm not even mad at how he's doing this....dude has a warped idea of what a maid is based on his favorite series and he's playing that out foreal.

And here, his philia came into play. He says that MC tryin' hard to work givin' it their all and going above and beyond turns him on more than anything else in the world. And I'm just like oh....so that's what this is like...

ooooo weeeee

Yes'm. I know, lemme show youuuuuuuuu 💖💕🥴🥴😌

he's so hot I can't stand him y'all

I levitated.....

this was after MC begging him to put his dick in, and him asking why they were begging....and hfuankjxnf,ajnxfkanlf

DAMN HIM

HELP

And then he told MC to stable themselves cause they were movin' too much. After, MC grounds themselves and he starts fucking them FASTER and deeper

Like.....

He even starts smackin' their ass and telling them to talk cause he likes it, but he wouldn't be listening. (shit, like I'll ramble and moan all day if he's drillin' how he was...)

And BITCH

he told them to stop ordering him around, pulled that thang out said that HE was the master and slipped it right back in. WHEN I TELL YOU SOMETHIN'

that shit was hot as fuck and I need him

GAWD THAT FUCKING FACE FUCK

AND he was that focused and thrusting with effort? PHEW I just know those backshots were astronomical

After that he has MC fuck themselves on him...and then when MC was losing themselves he started smacking their ass again, going faster, and when I tell you he rode that orgasm out to the end of time?

he wore himself and mc out

I'm tellin' y'all I needed a cigarette, I need a drink, I needed an edible SOMETHING after reading that because phew.

I don't really bother to self-insert in most otomes and stories, but during this spice? I had to and it was an experience.

Now going to the climaxxxx

Belphie is all cute bein' like "carry me darlin'" and just falls asleep on top of MC and MC just falls asleep naked on the floor with him. They end up in Belphie's room in his bed and Beleth is there just smilin' and shit.

He explains that he knows Belphie's sleep schedule right down to the days and that last night happened to be one of his "relief" nights meaning that he has a cycle. And usually Beleth just knocks him out, which sounds like he punches him?

Now, I've noticed here that PB doesn't really do the whole "confirming cxc content" but I'm gonna go a whim and assume that Beleth does in fact fuck Belphegor sometimes during these relief nights. Beleth also has special conditions when it comes to sex so the punching Belphie to sleep method also makes sense.

Then, Belphie does a cute thing and pulls MC in like a pillow and says he knows they aren't a pillow because none of them are as nice as MC's body so there was no need to explain nothin' to him.

He's super adorable when he's not being a little shit, huh?

AND THAT'S THE END FOLKS!

Overall Score (unbiased): 9.5/10!

This score is because the smut writing really has gotten a little better since the beginning of this game. Now others will have different opinions on this, but I at least noticed some improvements on that front. Also, because I just didn't really care for MC having to be run ragged like they were and Beleth just yeeting them to the void like that. But oh well, it just shows that not every devil or fallen angel we meet is gonna be biased to treating MC a certain way and that within itself is refreshing.

Now when it comes to self-insert purposes, I suspect that the majority would not like like Belphie treats MC at all. This is understandable, but this is also part of his character that I like. Pretty much everyone is on the same level to him in terms of usefulness and that's that. You gotta work hard to earn his favor, and clearly that seems to work out toward the end when he's snuggling up to MC like he is.

Also when you think about it, a niche roleplay based off your fave series can only be used with someone you particularly like, which means he felt that MC would fit this role instead of one of his subordinates, and he puts MC on the same level as Beleth because I'm very certain he has Beleth do some cosplay shit with him.

Plus Beleth would look bangin' in a maid costume.

Now if y'all want my BIASED opinion, this card is 100+/10 because I liked Belphie doing his weird shit during the maid thing, him barking orders that were half-assed or sometimes direct, and then the fingering under the table thing....

i'm sorry that just does something to me.

plus...all of this...the theme and the superiority thing reminds me of Sukuna from JJK and he would definitely humiliate you too just like this for amusement.....and idk I'm a Sukuna stan so...😩

The next post will be about his likability chats, a link to peek at his adore mode, and I'll be talking about his date story! So stay tuned. Again thank y'all for any interactions, reading my rambles and summaries and I hope you enjoyed his card like I did ^^ -yourlovelyadmin Jaze(✿◡‿◡)

[rafes-honey]

Hi! Can i pls request a rafe fic where the reader is obviously interested in him but he thinks he doesn’t like her back so he tries to avoid her. But once the reader tries to move on, rafe finally realizes his feelings for her.

No worries if you don’t want to or if you aren’t comfy! Thanks girly 💕

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬’ 𝐖𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 ౨ৎ

It started when you were sixteen. He’d lost his temper at a party—some stupid fight with a Kook kid who bumped into Sarah—and stormed off down the beach. Everyone else stayed behind, pretending they didn’t see the way he cracked a beer bottle against a rock like he was trying to shatter something deeper than glass. You followed him without thinking, barefoot in the dark, your sweater slipping off one shoulder.

He didn’t say a word when you sat next to him, just stared out at the water with his jaw clenched tight and his fists red from impact. You didn’t touch him. You didn’t try to fix it. You just sat there, quiet and steady, and that was enough. When he finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You didn’t ask what “this” was. You just said, “You don’t have to be alone.”

And he looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time.

After that, something shifted. You weren’t just Sarah’s friend anymore. You weren’t just another Kildare girl in the background. You were his. Not in the way that mattered, not in the way you wanted—but in the way that he’d pull you away from a crowd with his hand around your wrist, or drop his head on your shoulder after a long day like he couldn’t breathe without your silence.

Everyone else saw it. You were obvious. Too obvious. You were the one who remembered how he took his coffee, who brought him Advil when he’d been up all night, who held your breath every time he touched you, hoping—stupidly, always—that maybe this time, he’d feel it too.

And he knew. Of course he knew. How could he not?

Rafe Cameron wasn’t dumb. He saw the way your eyes followed him when he wasn’t looking, the way your voice softened when you said his name. He leaned into it. Used it. Let you be his lifeline without ever reaching for yours.

And you let him.

Because you thought, maybe, if you just stayed long enough—if you loved him hard enough, patiently enough—he’d choose you back.

But he never did.

Not really.

It was little things. The way he’d call you “sweetheart” in front of other girls, just to watch you squirm. The way he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder when he was high, head lolling against yours, whispering, “Don’t know what I’d do without you,” like it meant something. Like it wasn’t a leash.

You never talked about it. You never dared to. Because talking about it would make it real, and if it was real, then you’d have to face the fact that he didn’t want you the way you wanted him. That he never would.

So you stayed. You stayed and watched him flirt with girls at The Wreck, watched him disappear into bedrooms at parties and come back rumpled and smug. You stayed through the highs and lows and bruised knuckles, the way he pulled you close and pushed you away in the same breath.

The night he slept with that girl from the country club, you didn’t cry. You smiled at him like it didn’t break you. He leaned against the counter, shirtless, beer in hand, and said, “You good?”

You nodded. “Always.”

He grinned. “Knew you were tough.”

And you wanted to scream. You wanted to shake him and ask what the hell you were supposed to do with all this love, this aching mess of devotion that he kept pocketing like spare change. But you didn’t.

You just went home, washed your face, and promised yourself you were done waiting.

You weren’t. Not really.

But you wanted to be.

People started noticing. Sarah, mostly. She watched you closely, like she was waiting for something to snap. She stopped defending her brother around you. Stopped telling you “maybe he’ll come around.” Even she had given up on him.

The real fracture didn’t come until you met Aaron.

You didn’t even like him at first. He was too polite, too clean-cut. Nothing like Rafe. But he liked you. Earnestly, without games. He texted you good morning. He didn’t flinch when you got quiet. He asked what you wanted instead of assuming he knew. And when he looked at you, there was no question in it.

The first time he kissed you, your heart didn’t race. It was calm. Like the tide.

You didn’t tell Rafe. But of course, he found out.

And he didn’t say anything—not at first. He just looked at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t think had pieces. He started showing up more. Sitting next to you at parties again. Standing too close in the kitchen. You caught him staring, once, when you laughed at something Aaron said. Like he couldn’t believe you were smiling at someone else.

Then came the night he cornered you on the porch.

You could smell the whiskey on him, see the anger in his eyes—unspoken, coiled tight like a storm about to break.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Aaron. He’s a fucking placeholder.”

Your chest tightened. “Don’t do that.”

He stepped closer. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

“No, Rafe,” you said, voice low and shaking. “You do see it. You’ve always seen it.”

He froze.

“And you used it,” you said. “You let me love you, let me drown in it, and you never once gave anything back.”

“That’s not—”

“It is. And now that I’m finally trying to move on, you’re what—jealous?”

“I never asked for any of it.”

That hit harder than you thought it would.

Your throat closed up. You stepped back. “Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s the worst part.”

You walked away before he could see you cry.

He didn’t follow.

And for the first time, he stayed gone.

You didn’t go home that night. Not right away. You drove to the old marina instead, the one no one used anymore—just sat in your car staring out at the docks, letting the silence press against your ribs until you felt like you could breathe again. You weren’t even crying. Not really. Just tired. Hollowed out. There was nothing left to give. Not to him.

You’d said everything. And he’d still let you walk away.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that Rafe hadn’t moved from that porch. He’d watched you disappear into the dark like he always did, like he’d always let you, and for once, the silence didn’t settle. It screamed.

He stood there a long time, trying to find someone else to blame. You. Aaron. Himself. But it all circled back to the same thing: you had loved him completely, and he had treated it like it was always going to be there. Like you were always going to be there.

And now you weren’t.

And it hit him, suddenly, violently, that he couldn’t live with that.

So he did something he never did.

He ran.

Didn’t think. Didn’t grab a jacket. Just grabbed the ring.

It had been sitting in his drawer for years—his mom’s. He used to take it out when he was younger, hold it in his hand and imagine what she’d say if she were still around. He’d kept it hidden because he didn’t believe in the kind of love it was meant for.

But he believed in you.

He drove like a man possessed. Called Sarah in a panic when you didn’t answer your phone. She told him you had a place you always went when you needed to be alone. The docks.

And when he got there, he didn’t even wait to catch his breath. Just threw the door open and walked straight to your window, knocked once—hard, like his life depended on it.

You flinched, wiped your eyes out of instinct, even though you didn’t know you were crying. When you saw him, your stomach dropped. “What the hell—”

“I love you,” he said before you could finish. His voice cracked right down the middle.

You froze.

He stepped closer to the car, face pale, rain soaking through his shirt now, but he didn’t care. “I love you,” he said again, louder this time, like if he didn’t say it now, he never would.

You swallowed hard. “Don’t—”

“I know I don’t deserve to say that,” he went on. “I know I used you. I know I hurt you. But I need you to hear me anyway. Because it’s true.”

You sat there, stunned. Everything inside you still felt like it was bleeding.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen,” he said. “I was just too much of a coward to say it. Because you’re the only thing in my life that ever made sense. And I was afraid that if I touched it—if I said it out loud—I’d ruin it.”

Your hands were shaking.

“I never thought I was good enough,” he whispered. “So I just… took what you gave and tried not to ask for more. But I want more. I want everything, and I swear to God I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”

You opened the door slowly. Stepped out onto the gravel.

And he was already reaching into his pocket.

He held out the small box—familiar, scuffed, something old and private.

“This was my mom’s,” he said. “She left it to me. I never thought I’d give it to anyone. But it’s yours. If you want it.”

You looked at him—at the rain in his hair, the fear in his eyes, the way his hand trembled around the box—and your chest cracked open in a way that didn’t hurt anymore.

You stepped into him, wrapped your arms around his neck, and said, “I’ve wanted you to say that for so long.”

His arms were around you in a heartbeat, holding you like something fragile he was terrified to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he whispered into your hair. “I swear.”

You pulled back just enough to press your forehead to his. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” he said. “Not again.”

And when he slid the ring onto your finger, it didn’t feel like a promise.

It felt like home.

[zepskies]

Funnily enough, this is the first time I've ever written a professor AU! But thank you, lovely!! I loooooove the color scheme of the moodboard Liane created. It matched my personal aesthetic so well and the classic lit in there just provided the perfect creative fuel! lol 💕💕

thissssss is such a beautiful and bittersweet description 💗💗

Oh thank you!! 🙏🏽 I worked really hard on that little intro - really helped me set the scene.

this was such a clever “meet cute” !! 😩 (I mean not really given they are very aware of each other but like, personal meet cute?) and yeah judging by sir-stares-a-lot off to the side, i’m glad dean was there to assist her <33 public transportation can be exhausting sometimes fr 🤦🏽‍♀️

ehehe yes it's a kind of "meet cute" for sure! Oh God yeah, Dean was really needed there to assist in multiple ways lol. Public transportation can be scary for a woman alone, especially late at night!

I actually ended up having to withdraw from college a while ago (:/) but man if I had him as a professor ??? I would’ve had perfect attendance for sure 🫠💓

Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that. 😥

Very much agree though lol. If Dean were my professor, I'd never miss a class. 😏 And I'd have to record every lecture bc I probably wouldn't be able to catch everything he was saying lolll.

i went from aww to real to aw :/ and finally to how the hell did those girls find out 😭 but I will say my nosey ass is intrigued 👀 lmao

Oh you know how news like that travels. 🥲 That's definitely going to be a subject explored in the series!

boy if you don’t watch out :| i’d pull my taser out idc 😭

LMAO that gif of disappointed grandma killed me! 🤣 But yes, I'd threaten to tase him in the dick idc either 🙃

literally!! the other day this guy got unnecessarily close to me at the bus stop so i gave him a dead stare and asked if i can help him with something in a flat tone as I backed away from him, then he tried playing dumb like mannn I ain’t trying to hear all that, move !!🤚🏽

omgggg guys really do try it, don't they? So creepy. lmfao and you pulled out the "Can I help you??" 🤣

Sometimes you really do gotta --

I personally adore when someone talks about something they’re passionate about. it’s so refreshing because they actually care and you can see it, hear it. like personally I don’t really have a passion for anything anymore lol which i’m fine with now, it just makes it that much better when I encounter someone who does have that passionate spark, like yesss pls tell me all about that subject 🙂‍↕️♥️ i mean correct me if i’m wrong (<3) but you seem to have such a big passion for writing, like it shows how much you love to do this, how much you care and all the effort that goes into the entire process. it all reflects in your writing !! every time you write interesting tidbits and fun facts I find them so interesting. you seem like the chill english teachers i’d get along with, in the best way ofc !!💘 (ex-teacher’s pet here 😔😂) also I hope i’m making sense lovely, brady isn’t the only pothead here lmfao 😭🫶🏽

Yesss I feel the same way! I love it when people are passionate about a subject. I'm sorry you don't feel like you have that passion for something right now, but I hope you do discover something new to enjoy and geek out about. 💗💗

Oh you're very right about that lol. Writing and storytelling is my passion and one of my key creative outlets, so I've studied it and tried to make it my career too. Fanfic though is very self-indulgent for me lol. It's mainly where I come for escapism and to try new things creatively in my writing. I'm so glad you find the "tidbits/fun facts" interesting!! 🥹💕💕 Since I also teach English, this was a really fun story for me to write lol. I think I'd love to have you in my class! I'm on the whole very chill with my college peeps (though I can't be as much with high school 🤣).

lmaooo girl no worries, you're making perfect sense 😘

yesssss keep gathering her up in your warm strong arms dean 🙂‍↕️🙏🏽 lmfao

Right? Even I melted while writing that part~

this was truly such a wonderrrrfull story 💛 the mutal pining is killing me but it’s so good!🫠 idiots in love…except they’re both really smart and it’s not love yet, they’re just pining…but still!🤠

Aww thank you, my lovely!! 🥹💓💓 I'm so glad you enjoyed it! The mutual pining is gonna be tough to start with, but I think these two are going to "give in" sooner than you might think. We'll see when I actually start writing the rest of this. 🤣

10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader

Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

AN: Here’s a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but we’re still flirting with a gray area here lol.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)

The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.

To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.

This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave in…

You checked the time on your phone—ten minutes to midnight—and compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.

Shit! One minute?!

You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.

A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.

“Professor?” you said, breathless and shocked.

He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.

“Here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.

And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.

Professor Dean Winchester.

He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldn’t believe you ran right into him!

But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).

“Oh, you…you saw the play too?” you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. You’d told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.

He’d admitted that he’d never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said he’d look into it. You didn’t think he was actually taking you seriously though.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,” he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

You couldn’t help but smile too every time you noticed that…even though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.

Clearly he’d dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, you’d asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. He’d told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.

“So what’d you think?” you asked. “Weren’t the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the ‘forest,’ and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.”

He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.”

“Oh, incredible. That was the best Bottom I’ve ever seen.” You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. “Well, the character. Not the ass—donkey—whatever. You know what I mean.”

The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.

“Can’t argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,” he smirked.

Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. You’d heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one day—a full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.

“But really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,” you said. “Helena was my favorite.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?”

That was another thing. He didn’t really talk like any professor you’d met in your life. You let out a snort of laughter.

“I don’t want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,” you explained. “There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t even see you, you know?”

He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.

“In her mind, she’s probably thinking, ‘Well, even if he’s yelling at me, at least he’s acknowledging I exist,’” you said, “which is incredibly sad and isn’t giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but it’s a reality that some women go through.”

After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.

“That’s fair,” he said, arching a brow. “Though I gotta hope you don’t let any guy talk to you like that.”

You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.

“How about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,” he said. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.

“Ah, you know what, I’m good with just my phone…please.”

This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didn’t know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.

You held out your hand expectantly, but still, “Brady” didn’t take the hint.

“Aw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?” he asked.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?” You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.”

“Hmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,” he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.

“Hey,” a deep voice cut in. 

You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Give her the damn phone,” said the professor. His tone boded no argument.

Still, Brady pushed his luck.

“What, you her boyfriend or something?”

The professor didn’t bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.

Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didn’t want this version of Midnight on the Orient Express—the kind that ended up on the 6 o’clock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professor’s hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.

“Walk away,” he said.

To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a “fuck you, bro,” and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Is this your stop?” he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Okay, come on,” the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.

“Thank you,” you said again. “Really, you didn’t have to miss your exit for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. “I’ll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.”  

Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you weren’t that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasn’t a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.

He had no other motive than that, however…

He’d been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.

It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldn’t help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.

A deep, full-bodied red.

It was a familiar shade. You’d worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshifters—those long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much he’d actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.

He also knew you were getting a master’s degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. You’d actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.

“Sorry, sir, I know it’s early. I’ve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.”

He’d shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)

The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.

“You like mythology that much, huh?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yeah!” you said, as your eyes lit up. “I find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe it’s technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or it’s the same creature, different backstory. It’s like any novel I’ve ever read—similar tropes, but the style, the packaging. That’s what becomes new and creative.”

Amusement tugged at Dean’s lips.

“Same candy, different wrapper, right?” he offered. His reward was your bright smile.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He’d approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you weren’t just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuff…and it mirrored his own.

“So, uh, you liked that play, huh?” he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.

But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.

“Oh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeare’s sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.” All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.

Dean’s remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.

You didn’t disappoint.

“Well, there’s the famous Lysander line, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’” you said, “but that’s not even my favorite. That’s boring. That’s every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to He’s Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.”

Dean had to interject. “You watch a lot of chick-flicks, don’t you?”

Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.

“Like I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, she’s pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims he’s in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, he’s like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?” you said.

“Oh, very much agree. You want some coffee?” Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.

“Uh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,” you said. But you didn’t let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! I meant to pay for my part—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, take half,” Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.

Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.

“But then she says, ‘Love can transpose to form and dignity.’ It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriend’s essays for a whole year because I didn’t want him to fail English, and let’s face it, he could barely spell his own last name.”

“Yikes,” Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guy’s future.

“Right? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.” You rolled your eyes, accepting Dean’s sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all you’d given to that guy was your time.

"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you better," he said.

You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."

Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.

“So anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,” you said. “‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

In that moment, Dean’s eyes were a little too captivated.

But you broke the spell.

You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.

“And that’s why Cupid’s always painted like a blind baby…or something like that,” you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long you’d been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.

“Sorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I can’t really stop unless someone stops me and tells me I’m literally killing them with words that don’t make sense.”

“You’re making a whole lotta sense to me,” Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.”

Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.

“Well, did you like the play?” you asked, smiling in embarrassment. “Sorry, can’t remember if I even asked you that yet.”

He chuckled. Even if you had, he didn’t mind answering again.

“I like it more now, hearing you talk about it,” he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. “It makes sense, since you’re an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. I’m really glad you decided to take my class this semester.”

You demured further at the praise. “Oh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, but…that’s because you’re the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.”

Dean chuckled, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.

“Well, thank you. Glad to hear at least one person’s getting something out of it,” he said, his smile warming for once.

You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. “All right well, thanks again for walking me home. I’ll, um…see you on Monday-ayy!”

You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Dean—specifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.

He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.

Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, but…contemplating.

Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.

“God, I’m sorry!” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um…Take Two,” you said, laughing weakly.

You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just, um…you know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!”

Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didn’t leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldn’t leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like you’d been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonder…

Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?

But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.

Didn’t stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. She’s barely pushing fifty while he’s halfway into Senior Depends.

Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11—kind of a problem.

You were a student.

Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.

In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Hera’s garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.

As in, forbidden fruit.

What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?

Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.

But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.

He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.

You didn’t even see him that way…did you?

You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.

Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.

How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches and…

You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.

It didn’t matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was “age appropriate,” he was still your professor. You couldn’t think about him like that.

And he absolutely didn’t look at you like that…

Did he?

AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. 😂 I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! ❤️

⋆˙⟡ Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new chapter. ❤️

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Dean Winchester One-Shots List

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @impala-dreamer @spnaquakindgdom

[flaresemily]

ɮǟȶ ʄǟʍɨʟʏ Ӽ ռɛɢʟɛƈȶɛɖ ʀɛǟɖɛʀ քǟʀȶ 3

ղҽzմkօ-líkҽ ɾҽαժҽɾ

mᥲs𝗍ᥱr ᥣіs𝗍 : ⍴rᥱ᥎і᥆ᥙs :⍴ᥲr𝗍 2 ᥴᥙrrᥱᥒ𝗍 : ⍴ᥲr𝗍 3

It's been two weeks. Two weeks! They have been training nonstop. In the daytime they train with ‘Sensei' and at night they go patrol as usual. The only thing different is they can't go back to the manor. Bruce doesn't allow it as long as they still have training to do.

“Ugh Timmy~ can we go shopping?” Y/n ask him. As he practiced his swinging. His eyes shine brightly because that means he can get out of this hell.

“Sur—” “he's not allowed to go out. Not now, not ever," Sensei replied. He's just sitting there drinking his black tea. There's one thing about ‘Sensei' that Tim is curious about.

Why does he love black tea?

Why does he call himself ‘Sensei'.

What is his real name?

Why does he always stay at a darker place whenever it's daytime?

Why do Conner and Jon seem to be the favorites?

and last but not least.

Why is ‘Sensei' so pale? Like incredibly pale?

He snaps out of his thoughts when y/n grumble. Weird. When did his little sister start to become a brat?

Shuffle shuffle

He heard from the room next to him. The ‘house’ he's living in is the same concept as a Japanese house. He wondered why. Seeing his sensei wearing a yukata. He wondered why.

“Ugh when will this end!” Jason who just returned from ‘climbing’ the mountains signed tiredly. He and Dick were ‘sent to climb the mountains’ from sunrise. And it's already sunset!

“It just a mountain? Why are you so worked up” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Just a mountain? JUST A MOUNTAIN!” Jason shouted. “YOU DON'T KNOW THERE'S A F*CKING TRAP THERE!”

Thwack!

A wooden sword hit Jason at the back of his head. “Who the f*ck did that!” As he turns around he flinches. Behind him ‘Sensei' stands while holding up a traditional Japanese umbrella which covers his face. (Until now they still didn't know sensei face)

“You can leave—

he started

And they all listen.

----if you can beat me” he finishes. “Deal! Let's do this!” Jason says. He gets ready with his wooden sword.

They bow towards each other and finally their sword clashes. Creating a big wind blow.

Shuffle shuffle

Tim heard it again from the direction of the same room.

He glanced at it and returned his attention back towards the fight.

“Come on Jason! Use your breathing!!” Dick cheer him up.

“Wind breathing : first form : dust whirlwind cutter!” Right after Jason said that. They all could feel the slight pressure in the wind. And—-

Whoosh!

Thud

Jason got knocked down. “Your breathing is still sloopy. How can you help Bruce in Japan like this?” ‘sensei’ scolds Jason who's groaning. “Damn that hurt old man”

At night

‘Sensei’ walks inside the very room that makes noise. Inside he saw a figure biting her arm preventing her from eating the meat he prepared for her.

“You must eat… you are starving yourself”

He pushed the food toward the figure. The figure immediately slapped it away.

“I̶ r̶a̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ d̶i̶e̶ s̶t̶a̶r̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ e̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶e̶a̶t̶!̶” the figure said. The figure suddenly started to shrink in size becoming a kid. Their bright pink eyes glow in the dark. Their mouths are dirty with their own blood. And the arm which they bite? It instantly heals itself.

Sensei just looks at her and walks away. As he closed the door he looked at the figure one last time. Memorizing it's face.

Morning

Apparently sensei let them rest cause he has work to do. Meaning…

No training = can go out

So they did. Y/n who hear this quickly get ready with her dress and makeup and so on.

Sadly Tim couldn't go out. His reason is

“Sorry guys I got a stomach ache” y/n just grumble. She Ignores him and clings to Jason. “Come on let's go~ it's been a long time since you guys spent time with me~” she whined.

They all nodded and bid Tim goodbye. As soon as they are out of sight he quickly walks towards the room.

He gently gets closer and places his ear to the ‘door’.

Shuffle shuffle thud!

He heard something like clothes shuffling around before falling down with a soft thud.

He quietly open the door. Before he could peak inside…

“BOO”

Someone jumpscare him from the back making him let go of the door. As he turn around.

“Conner f*cking Kent!! Stop doing that!!”

“Bahahaha you should see your face Tim!” Conner laughs at him. Tim grumbled. “Where's the other?” “Shopping”

Conner nodded understanding.

“Where's Jon?”

With Jon

He softly knocks on the door. As he pushes it gently he peeks inside it. There he could see a dark figure sleeping. And the tray of meat is empty.

‘I'm glad she eats, it's tiring to hunt a deer at the mountains’ Jon sighs in relief.

"̶w̶h̶o̶'̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶?̶” the figure gets up from the bed. Sadly it's too dark for Jon to see but! The figure's pink eyes shine brightly in the dark. Those pink eyes stare deep into his eyes. “Hello, I'm Jon” he introduced himself.

“What's yours?” “n҉a҉m҉e҉"҉

“Hm? I can't quite hear you?” Before the figure could repeat her name. Conner calls Jon from behind.

���Come on Jon sensei out right now!”

Jon quickly turned to his brother and nodded. He turned around and waved to the figure.

Another two week past

This time they are all ready for a new mission with Bruce.

As soon as they got to their destination. Japan (just imagine) Sensei brought them to a villa he owns. (Yes he's rich)

The people that goes to Japan with Bruce is :

-Dick

-Jason

-Tim

-Damian

-Alfred

-Y/n

-and a heavy box which Damian was forced to carry by sensei.

-Sensei

inside it was filled with different types of painting. It's a mix of purple, black and white. It was pretty. keyword = was

Now the painting has so much dust on it.

“ alright this is it” Sensei turn towards them

“This will be your place to stay for the months. 2 month to be exact” sensei told them before putting his bag down.

“And Damian the box? Give it to me " "finally! What did you get here?” Damian asks. “ nothing you be taking this along with you tonight on your mission”

The boys reaction - 👁️👄👁️ “tonight!!”

“Yes tonight now go to sleep and meet me at 7 pm we will be eating dinner first then we go out hunting!”

“So demons do exist?” “They aren't…” they all turn their attention towards him.

“They are already extinct. Except for—” a knock interrupts them.

“I go get it” sensei reply

Shuffle shuffle

Again. Tim heard the same thing now. But this time it was in the box Damian had carry out

‘I wonder’ Tim stares at the box. Y/n just rolled her eyes in annoyance. No one saw this of course. After all she's the perfect daughter her father raised her to be. Why would she let the mask crack?

I wonder why too? Do you guys know why?

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

ɮʏ : 𝐹𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

ԵαցlísԵ :

@darktrashpoetry @fortunatelydifferentqueen @floathyblues @kyuumeee @bunniotomia @sirenetheblogger @seemeee3

[bluewxrld07]

Blue Strips Pt. 2 (Insta AU)

Summary: Things start to heat up during the summer break...

Jack Hughes x Estapa!reader

Warning(s): None

oliviaponton just posted a photo!

liked by addisonrae, joeyb_9, kiocyr, oliviaobrien, and 900k others

oliviaponton You know how I get with an attitude

load more comments

user You know what, hell yeah?

Addisonrae Obsessed

user Not her copying lyrics from the same song Y/N did in her last post lmao

joeyb_9 So good

→ oliviaponton Always for you my love joeyb_9

user girl this ain't something to flaunt ^

ynestapa just posted a photo!

liked by tatemcrae, badgirlriri, jackhughes, bffig, edwards.73, and 1m others

ynestapa anywho

load more comments

user How ✍🏼 to ✍🏼 look ✍🏼 like ✍🏼 Y/N ✍🏼 101

tatemcrae Drop the hair routine rn

→ bffig Chat I'm cooked 😍

→ lhughes_06 Chat she's cooked

→ edwards.73 Chat bffig is cooked

→ jackhughes Chat I'm cooked

→ markestapa Chat- waaaait 🤔

user Chat Jack ain't even trying to hide it anymore lmfao

user she is so pretty omfg I love this

markestapa Okay yeah yeah you're cute and all, but stop taking pics and come outside

→ ynestapa No need to out me like that jeez

→ edwards.73 He's just mad because you are the better looking sibling ynestapa

→ ynestapa Awwww Eddy 🥰 edwards.73

→ markestapa Way to go she's gonna let that go to her head edwards.73

lhughes_06 No but seriously hurry up or we're leaving without you on the boat

→ ynestapa Omw 💨 lhughes_06

ynestapa just posted a photo to their story!

bffig just posted a photo!

liked by ynestapa, edwards.73, teehiggins, jackhughes, and 850k others

bffig Gearing up for a cray cray day

tagged ynestapa

load more comments

jackhughes There's my sweatpants ynestapa

→ ynestapa Whaaaaat? Noooo? jackhughes

→ bffig Can y'all stop flirting on my page thank you ynestapa jackhughes

→ bffig only I get to flirt with ynestapa on my page 😘

→ ynestapa I know that's right mwah 😘 bffig

jackhughes Hey watch this bffig

jackhughes Come get your cute little butt across this boat and cuddle me ynestapa

→ bffig JACK

→ ynestapa JACK!!!

→ jackhughes JACK

user Oh he is just not hiding it at this point lmfao I'm so dead

user They match each others' energy so well. Jack seems like he's good for Y/N

*liked by bffig*

edwards.73 wait wait wait. lemme try jackhughes

edwards.73 Hey bffig get your cute butt over here and come lay with me

→ bffig No

→ edwards.73 Fuck

→ ynestapa I'm cackling bffig edwards.73

ynestapa just posted some photos!

liked by bffig, jackhughes, joeyb_9, teehiggins, lhughes_06, and 1.3m others

ynestapa Lake days only

tagged everyone

load more comments

user How does one get titties like those wtf!!! GIVE ME YOUR WAYS

bffig Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? So sorry...

→ ynestapa Yes honey? bffig 😘

→ bffig Agh I'm giggling and kicking my feet ynestapa 🥰

edwards.73 THEY'RE LOOKING AT ME I SWEAR 🫣

markestapa PUT THEM AWAY YOURE HYPNOTIZING ALL MY FRIENDS

jackhughes Where to look is the real question WOW 😯

→ lhughes_06 Her face jackhughes

→jackhughes Good start lhughes_06

→ ynestapa Look wherever you want jackhughes 🤭

user Woah look who is creeping back into her likes.. interesting 🤔

user I hope he sees Jack's comments is that bad lmfao

user SO PRETTYYYYY

tatemcrae FREE THE NIP??

→ ynestapa Only for you tatemcrae

bffig Honey he's lurking...👀

→ ynestapa Who??????? 🧐

→ markestapa Why is he lurking? Thought he was blocked... ynestapa

→ ynestapa Idk what you're talking about markestapa

jackhughes just posted some photos!

liked by lhughes_06, colecaufield, trevorzegras, bffig, ynestapa, and 1m others

jackhughes Lake Days ftw

tagged everyone

load more comments

quinnhughes Awww what cuties

user omg Jack posted a photo of herrrrrr

lhughes_06 Wow I can't believe I was put third. Crazy

→ jackhughes You are the third brother lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 WOW OK jackhughes

ynestapa Can't believe you pushed me off after this..

→ jackhughes It was tempting! ynestapa

→ ynestapa You're tempting jackhughes

→ jackhughes I-- 😳 ynestapa

→ edwards.73 AHHH A BOY IS BRIGHT RED RN, YN WHAT DID YOU DOOOOO ynestapa jackhughes

→ lhughes_06 This guy is smiling like an idiot at his phone rn ynestapa jackhughes

user Dude if Jack and YN don't get together I will riot in the morning

coelcaufield Vibes were brewing 😎

joeyb_9 just posted a photo!

liked by oliviaponton, lahjay_1, teehiggins, samhubbard, and 998k others

joeyb_9 You got me throwin' blue strips

load more comments

user this man is so fine it hurts

user HELLO SIR OMFG

oliviaponton Throwin' ones at your bitch?

*liked by joeyb_9*

teehiggins Bruh where am I at in this

user this kind of petty tho

user Someone's been paying attention to Y/N's captions...

user This is fan behavior lmao

bffig Pussy

*this comment has been deleted*

ynestapa just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, bffig, teehiggins, edwards.73, and 1.2m others

ynestapa All your business getting back to me (Which I didn't ask for)

load more comments

user OHHHHH SHE KNOWSSSS

user Y/N sees right through their games it's crazy

bffig Lemme enter the chat pls

→ ynestapa Nope

edwards.73 Period boo

→ ynestapa ew no never again

→ edwards.73 WHY THO ynestapa

markestapa This isn't good for you Y/N

lhughes_06 Y/N don't feed into it

ynestapa Y'all stop I'm not doing a single thing markestapa lhughes_06

jackhughes Wrong answer

user uh oh I think Jack is jellyyyyy

ynestapa just posted some photos!

liked by lhughes_06, bffig, rutgermcgroarty, jackhughes, and 900k others

edwards.73 Gang's all here

load more comments

user Where's Y/N?????

user Y'all I don't like this why isn't Y/N on either post

bffig No pic creds? You're cheap

→ edwards.73 So sorry queen lemme tag you sweetheart bffig

→ bffig Ok no need to kiss my ass edwards.73

→ edwards.73 What if I wanted to tho? bffig

→ bffig Omfg you're ridiculous edwards.73

user Ethan why isn't Y/N in these photos???

lhughes_06 Did me dirty with that photo

→ edwards.73 nahhh you a cutie patootie pie lhughes_06

[atangledfate]

He couldn't help but flush a little embarrassed about her calling out his pension for not thinking before speaking. It was true he sometimes blurted things out without thinking. It wasn't as if he did it on purpose but when your brain was going a million miles a second it was bound to happen! he blamed his horrible ADHD! He couldn't refute her claim so it was just better to own up to it right?

" Heh... well... you have me there. I guess slowing down sometimes is real hard for me. Especially when my brain is moving at super sonic speeds... it feels like the world is in slow motion. I guess i get distracted and... don't always consider things before i say them... "

He sighed and glanced at her with a sheepish gaze

" I'll do my best to keep a lid on things... and see that kit gets to where he needs to be. Barring him deciding to bail on me... You know that kid cares alot for you... You sure he's gonna just be ok with all of this? "

Kid was a relative term, honestly he had no idea how old Kit was, or anything like that. He still called Tails a kid despite him being a grown ass man. Damn was he getting old? fuck... despite still looking like he was young Sonic was almost 30 now--- it was starting to weigh on him wasn't it?

================================================

Jewel touched her cheek as the General's monitor went dark, and the Princess was clearly not thrilled with the man. He was so cold, and callous and yet there was something unsettling about his words and actions. He was practically daring her to start a war with him as if it was what he wanted. It was frightening and she didn't get a better vibe from the President either. What game were they playing? weren't they all trying to beat eggman together?

" It's understandable Princess, I get a feeling the President has good intentions... but as my father use to say. The road to hell is paved with good intentions... but like it or not, they are the acting government here on Mobius. we can't openly defy them... it would be akin to rebellion... "

She sighed and gripped her hands in front of her in a nervous fashion.

" Luckily it seems they are content with just Surge for now. but likely will be investigating the entire situation over the coming weeks. For now though getting our sick and injured help is more important... far more important... so i made concessions. But Belle and Kit are safe for the moment... I thought he might force my hand for a time but... in the end he conceded to our demands. "

" I agree with the princess on this one... We can't take our eyes off them. I've heard quite a few horror stories about GUN in the past... we need to hold there feet to the fire... if need be. "

" Though... i guess we should be careful. As Jewel says... they are the government... and could easily make our lives hell or worse... shut us down...but i'll go let Surge know the news and prep her for the hand off... i hate this... alot... i was starting to like Her you know--- She was... starting to be like a real team mate... and now this. It feels unfair... "

The blue hedgehog gave Surge a sideways glance as he didn't forget about that. It was just that--- so much had happened to him that not even Eggman knew it all. Starline just pumped her full of common info, and assumptions. He didn't know about his adventures in the story books, or about his godling father. He certainly didn't know what happened when he, shadow and silver defeated Solarius. His life might be known, but he was more then a bunch of text in a book.

" ... Then you know i'm good for my word... that's enough right? Heck i'm not even askin' for you to like me. I was happy enough that you and the kiddo were getting a chance to do your own thing... "

he sighed and placed his hands on his hips looking up at the GUN Ship.

" This whole thing sucks... I really wish you two had more time--- And i think we both would like a long talk with that general guy. But i've faced my share of tyrants, hacks, and evil overlords. That guy gives me the willies... both of them do... and that's not easy to do "

============================================

The General remained Stoic as the princess simply iterated what they both already knew. Jewel's tactic was sound, but it was predictable and that alone spoke to Jewels lack of experience. She may have been a keen eyed business woman. But she wasn't a soldier, or a warrior and that was something Blaze and himself shared in common.

" I could have, but i'd honestly I'd like to resolve this in a timely manner. It does none of us any good to remain in this stalemate any longer then we must. Despite what you may think i want what is best for my World... "

He simply motioned with his hand in a dismissive manner

" Which is exactly the problem isn't it? How can we put our fate in the hands of someone so chaotic and undisciplined. I'm sure we'd agree on much more then we disagree on if things were different... as for The President... I hope he can do the things he claims but, he's as of yet untested... "

His one good eye turned to Odessa and acknowledged her without directly speaking to her. He seemed to assess her but his face was like stone and impossible to tell if he was concerned or if he found her threat to be just another annoyance.

" My men are all disciplined... they won't act unless ordered to. you can relax, if i wanted to cause you harm... we wouldn't be having this conversation and you must know that. As for your princess getting hurt--- If a foreign dignitary enters foreign lands uninvited ... i can't be held responsible for any ill that befalls them. In truth your presence could be seen as an act of War... be glad we make an exception for the aid you provided the resistance during the Phantom War "

He sighed to the Princesses desire and his eye shifted away as if he found this argument rather tedious. He understood what she wanted but until Thawn, gave him the go ahead his hands were actually tied. He wanted to explain that but he had a feeling she'd fight him every step of the way. So it was a good thing, that jewel came in almost as if on que. Her wings buzzing as she came into the room and interrupted the conversation.

" President Thawn and i came to an agreement... The blackade is to be opened to essential personnel and, we can begin moving the injured and, get our medical staff back on base! i'm sure the general will get these orders momentarily! "

" Indeed, i was just given a folder with new orders... congradulations Miss Jewel... I look forward to working with you in the future---in less stressful circumstances... Princess it was ... interesting, i hope this doesn't jade you to future talks "

[bebe-writes-stuff]

Title: 7 minutes in heaven

Pairing: Baji x Reader

Summary: It started out as a fun silly little game but now you’re both stuck here.

(Fluff + some kissing) ( No warnings)

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It was dark.

Not pitch-black, but that claustrophobic kind of dim where only a thin sliver of light crept in through the crack of the closet door. Enough to catch glimpses—the slight gleam of Baji’s earring, the edge of your shoe toe-to-toe with his, the rise and fall of his chest just inches from yours.

You weren’t sure how you ended up in here—no, scratch that. You were sure. This had Chifuyu written all over it.

Stupid party. Stupid game. Stupid friends.

You shifted slightly, trying—and failing—to wedge yourself against the wall without brushing up against him. But the closet was laughably small. Your shoulder bumped his. He tensed. So did you.

Silence. Awkward. Suffocating.

You cleared your throat, desperate to break the tension before it swallowed you whole. “So… this is fun.”

Baji let out a dry laugh, low and short. “Yeah. Real fun. Who actually plays this game?”

You smirked, trying to hide your nerves. “Apparently us.”

Another beat of silence. You could hear voices outside the door—laughter, music—but it all felt muffled. Distant. Like the closet had its own world, one way too small for how fast your heart was beating.

“So…” you tried again, eyes fixed on that thin line of light, “what would you be doing if you weren’t in a closet right now?”

Baji scoffed softly. “Eating Mikey’s snacks before Draken fights him for them.”

You laughed—nervous, but real. “Sounds about right.”

Then a pause.

“…What about you?” he asked, voice a bit quieter this time.

You glanced at him in the dimness, the curve of his jaw just visible. “Avoiding this exact situation.”

He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh or a sigh. “Yeah. Me too.”

Neither of you moved. Shoulder to shoulder, trying not to notice how warm the other felt.

And neither of you noticed that the minutes were stretching far past seven.

The longer you sat in that cramped closet, the easier it got to ignore the awkward silence—and instead lean into teasing.

“Well,” you muttered, nudging his foot lightly with yours, “at least you smell better than I expected.”

He snorted. “Wow. Thanks. That the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me?”

You smirked in the dark. “I can take it back, you know.”

“No, no,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound offended. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

That made you both laugh, the sound echoing slightly in the tiny space. It felt stupidly easy, like the tension had cracked open just a little. Baji leaned back against the wall, shaking his head.

“Swear, Chifuyu’s dead when I get out of here. I knew he was acting weird.”

“Oh please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “The second he said ‘you’ll thank me later,’ we should’ve run.”

“You did walk in here though.”

“So did you.”

“…Touché.”

You both laughed again, your knees bumping this time—and neither of you pulled away.

But then Baji’s laughter slowed. His eyes darted toward the faint light on his watch. “…Wait. That was definitely more than seven minutes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m serious.” He leaned forward, knocking on the door. “Yo! Time’s up! Let us out already!”

No answer.

Your brows furrowed. You twisted the doorknob—and froze. “It’s locked.”

Baji’s voice dropped an octave. “What?”

“I’m serious.” You jiggled it again. Nothing. “They locked us in—!”

“Oh, hell no.” He turned to the door, now more irritated than amused. “Oi! CHIFUYU! Open the damn door!”

Nothing but muffled laughter from outside.

“Oh you bastards—”

He smacked his palm against the door a little harder than the space could handle, and in his frustration, he shifted too far. His elbow bumped into your side, your balance tilted, and you stumbled—

“Whoa—!”

In a heartbeat, his arms caught you. One around your waist, one braced against the wall behind you.

The air shifted.

Your palms landed against his chest. Close. Way too close.

Baji blinked, his voice suddenly softer. “…You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Y-Yeah. Just… lost my balance.”

His arms stayed where they were. Holding you just enough. Not letting go.

Neither of you moved.

“…They so planned this,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Baji’s lips twitched. “Yeah. They did.”

But this time, he didn’t sound mad. Just… thoughtful.

You stayed like that—frozen in his arms—for a moment too long. Long enough to realize you weren’t exactly trying to pull away.

And before you could second-guess yourself, your body moved on instinct. Maybe it was the warmth of him, the way his arms had tightened just slightly when you stumbled.

You let your head rest against his chest.

It wasn’t dramatic. Just a quiet little movement. Soft. Familiar, even. Like it had always been there, waiting for a moment like this.

But then you heard it.

His heartbeat.

Fast. Way too fast. Thundering beneath your ear like it was trying to punch its way out of his ribcage.

You blinked against the fabric of his shirt, surprised. “…Are you okay?”

There was a pause. And when he finally answered, his voice was low. Rough around the edges.

“…Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

Your breath caught.

His tone wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was real. Honest.

Something fluttered in your chest—nerves, warmth, something in between. Before you could stop yourself, your arms lifted and wrapped around him. Not in a stumble, not in a joke.

A hug.

A real one.

He stiffened for a second, like he didn’t know what to do with it. And then slowly, wordlessly, his arms wrapped around you too. Tighter this time. Like he wasn’t planning on letting go.

“…You’re really warm,” you murmured, mostly to fill the silence.

“Yeah,” he said against your hair. “That might be your fault.”

You smiled into his chest.

You stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence now soft and full—not awkward like before.

After a few moments, you tilted your head up slightly, your voice quiet but curious.

“Do you know why they did this?”

Baji blinked down at you, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“You know,” you said, your voice a little more teasing now. “Why they shoved us in here. Out of everyone.”

He shrugged, shifting a little. “Dunno. No clue.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. “Liar.”

He blinked.

“You always know what’s up with your friends,” you said softly. “You notice everything. Especially when it comes to them. So why are you pretending not to now?”

That shut him up.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you—really looked.

Then finally, quietly, he muttered, “Yeah.”

His arms dropped from your waist, like he needed them free to talk with, to explain. His fingers raked through his hair.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “I know.”

He stared past you for a second like he was sorting through his thoughts—then suddenly, the words came pouring out before he could stop them.

“First day I met you, I remember you rolled your eyes at me so hard I thought they’d get stuck. I thought you hated me,” he said with a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. “But then you offered me half your damn sandwich like it was no big deal. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You froze, heart thudding as he continued.

“Whenever I see something nice—like, really nice—my first thought’s always, ‘would you like it?’ I catch myself looking for stuff to tell you about. Like I wanna be the first to show you, hear you laugh, get you to roll your eyes at me again.”

His arms went around you, holding you like he was scared you’d vanish if he let go.

“I always want to protect you. Even when you don’t need it. Even when it’s just someone talking bad about you, or you pushing yourself too hard. I just—I dunno. You’re important to me. More than I ever say. Probably more than I should’ve let happen.”

Then, his eyes widened a little, realization crashing in.

“…Shit. Sorry. That was probably—ugh, that was too much. I didn’t mean to—if I’m annoying you or making this weird—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You leaned in and kissed him.

Simple. Soft. Real.

And it shut him up immediately.

You felt him tense for a heartbeat, then melt into it, hands slowly finding their way back to your waist, pulling you closer like he’d been waiting for this moment without even realizing it.

“…You’re not annoying,” you whispered. “You never were Baji.”

He let out a groan—half annoyed, half flustered—as he dragged a hand down his face.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “Can you just—please—call me by my first name?”

You blinked, a little startled. “What?”

“You heard me.” He glanced at you, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. “Say it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “…Keisuke.”

The effect was immediate. His breath caught, jaw tightening slightly like the sound of it hit him harder than he was ready for.

He stared at you like you’d just pulled the ground out from under him. “…Say it again.”

That was all it took.

He leaned in and kissed you again—deeper this time, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left to pretend. It wasn’t nervous or awkward anymore—it was real, urgent, like he’d waited too long to stop himself now.

Between kisses, he murmured against your mouth, “I love hearing you say my name.”

You barely had a second to breathe before he trailed his lips from your mouth down to your jaw, then to your neck—warm, slow kisses turning into something more heated. Your breath hitched as he kissed just below your ear, then lower, his lips grazing your skin until—

“Keisuke…” you whispered, voice unsteady.

He let out a low hum, his hands roaming up your sides, grounding you as his lips marked you—one, two—soft hickeys left behind like secrets only he was allowed to know.

But then he paused.

You felt it in the shift of his breath, the tension in his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His thumb brushed against your cheek, gentle now. “You okay with this?”

You nodded, cheeks warm, heart pounding. “Yeah… I am.”

He smiled—soft, almost shy. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

But just as his lips were about to find yours again, reality came crashing back with a faint snicker from outside the door.

Right. The closet. The party. Their friends.

Baji sighed like it physically pained him to stop. He gave you one last kiss—slow, lingering—then let go, fists clenching like he needed to do something with all the heat and energy now stuck in his chest.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait. What are you—”

“Screw this,” he muttered—and then, with a swift kick and a sharp CRACK, the closet door broke open, wood splintering around the lock.

Light poured in. A few gasps and shouts followed.

Baji stepped out first, shaking off his hair, then turned back to offer you his hand like the smug, slightly flushed delinquent he was.

“Seven minutes, huh?” he said with a crooked grin. “Took a little longer.”

The room went dead silent.

Baji strode out like he hadn’t just demolished a door and made out with you in a closet for who-knows-how-long. You followed close behind, cheeks flushed, hair slightly tousled, his hand still gripping yours.

Chifuyu gawked. “You actually broke the—wait. Wait. Did you guys—?”

Smiley whistled low. “Told you it’d work.”

Draken folded his arms, raising a brow. “Took you two long enough.”

Mikey, sitting cross-legged on the couch with snacks in his lap, just grinned. “So… when’s the wedding?”

You rolled your eyes.

But neither of you let go of each other’s hand.

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