#the only problem i have with this is that im too slow and will fail at fastest fingers first

[28ms28]

Sometimes I'll be watching who wants to be a millionaire and get pissed off at all the questions being so easy. Like all you need to do in order win a decent amount of money is get a good high school education. That's all. Okay maybe catch up on GK and a lil national history but it's nothing a month of preparation can't achieve.

[bueckets]

Office Hours

Pairing: student-athlete!Paige x tutor!reader

Genre: enemies to flirting to losing your mind, paige is a little shit, slow burn but not really, tension so thick it’s basically a third character, paige is failing bio and somehow it’s your problem, cocky athlete x academically unhinged girl, tutoring sessions turned emotional warfare, dirty shirley temples, smut incoming

Description: Paige Bueckers is failing biology, and you're the unlucky tutor assigned to drag her out of academic disaster. What should be a simple arrangement becomes anything but, thanks to her complete lack of focus, relentless flirtation, and the infuriating way she manages to get under your skin—and into your head.

Between chaotic study sessions, surprise bar encounters, and more sexual tension than should legally exist between two people trying to discuss mitochondria, it’s clear that the real test isn’t the midterm. It’s whether you can make it through the semester without either making out with her—or killing her.

One thing’s for sure: Paige isn’t the only one getting schooled.

WC: 9.6k (and growing)

Notes: im back?

The library is way too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your own breathing sound deafening, where every shuffle of paper or tap of a pen echoes like a gunshot. It’s the kind of silence that should be perfect for studying. Should be.

Except Paige Bueckers is sitting across from you, and Paige Bueckers doesn’t give a single shit about studying.

Instead, she’s leaned back in her chair like she’s lounging courtside instead of being one bad test score away from academic probation. She’s got her long legs stretched out beneath the table, sneakers tapping lazily against the floor. Her hoodie—way too oversized for someone whose entire existence is dedicated to agility and precision—is slouching off one shoulder, and she’s twirling a pen between her fingers like she’s dribbling down the court with a shot clock winding down. The sleeves are bunched up just enough to show her forearms, strong and lined with faint muscle from years of training, but the only thing working right now is her mouth.

Grinning. Smirking. Teasing. Doing everything but reading the goddamn textbook in front of her.

“Alright, Paige,” you sigh, pushing your notes toward her for what has to be the third time. “We need to focus. You will fail this class if you don’t start studying.”

Paige doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t move an inch beyond a lazy stretch that makes her hoodie ride up just slightly, flashing the waistband of her shorts. Her smirk deepens like she can feel you noticing.

“Yeah,” she drawls, tilting her head, “but then I’d have to take it again next semester. Which means more quality time with my favorite tutor.”

You stare at her. She stares back. The kind of look that feels like a staredown before tip-off except way less athletic and way more are you seriously this insufferable?

She holds the eye contact, easy as anything, while you struggle to remind yourself that she is only your student, not a professional flirt sent to ruin your life. Her eyes gleam in the dim library lighting, playful and sharp at the same time. Her lashes are unfairly long, brushing against her cheeks when she finally blinks.

Your heart rate picks up. Not from that. From the academic crisis happening right now. Obviously.

“You’re not failing on purpose, right?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

Paige tilts her head, pretending to ponder, lips pursing slightly. “Hmm. No, but if I did, would that be kinda cute?”

You groan dramatically, dragging a hand down your face. “I am this close to committing academic misconduct and just taking the test for you.”

Paige gasps. Actually gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in faux offense. “Wow. I knew med school was intense, but I didn’t realize you were out here ready to commit federal crimes for me.”

“That’s it,” you announce, pushing back from the table. “I’m done. I quit. Find someone else to teach you about mitochondria.”

You barely make it an inch before Paige reaches across the table and hooks two fingers around your wrist, tugging you back down like you weigh nothing. Her grip is firm, all strength and control—like she’s grabbing a rebound, like she’s got her hands on the game ball in overtime. Your pulse jumps again, this time definitely because of that.

Her fingers linger for a second longer than necessary before she releases you. But she’s still watching you, expression softening just slightly around the edges. “C’mon, stay,” she says, voice lower now, like a secret. “I promise I’ll actually pay attention this time.”

You cross your arms. “Oh? And what changed?”

She leans forward this time, elbows on the table, chin propped on one hand. The lighting catches the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. She’s smiling, but it’s something different now—something slower. 

“Figured out that if I fail,” she murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore.”

Your brain does a full system reboot. Error. What the fuck did she just say?

“Wh—Paige.”

She just winks, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip for half a second before her grin spreads, slow and satisfied. “What? That was cute, right?”

You grab your pen and point it at her accusingly. “You are so goddamn lucky you’re good at basketball, because if you had to rely on your brain—”

“I’d still get by,” she interrupts smoothly, shooting finger guns at you. “People tend to go easy on the charming ones.”

Your mouth actually falls open. Not on purpose—just an involuntary reaction to the sheer, unbelievable audacity of this girl. She’s failing biology, hasn’t written down a single note, and still has the goddamn nerve of a mathlete coasting through an easy A.

You snap your jaw shut, you refuse to let her see how flustered you are. You refuse. “Okay, charming one, then explain the process of cellular respiration.”

Paige squints, lips pressing together as she sucks in a breath through her teeth, nose scrunching like she’s really trying to make something shake in that head of hers. “Uh… it’s when cells… respire?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, inhaling slowly through your teeth. “We are so, so fucking doomed.”

She just laughs, kicking her feet out beneath the table, accidentally knocking her knee against yours. “Relax,” she says, her grin widening. “You love tutoring me.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” she nods, completely sure of herself. “You totally have a little crush on me.”

You let out a dry, incredulous laugh—one of those sharp, breathy ones, all eyebrows raised and head bobbing. “Yeah, sure.”

She shrugs, tapping a finger against the open page of her biology textbook like she might actually start paying attention. Then, without looking up—

“Nah, I know.”

You blink. Paige blinks back.

The air between you tightens like a taut shoelace, pulling, pulling—dangerously close to snapping. You could be the bigger person here. You could roll your eyes, let it go, return to the noble pursuit of keeping Paige Bueckers from academically imploding.

But something about the way she’s looking at you—too smug, too sure—strikes a competitive nerve in you. And you’re not about to lose anything to her. Not a game, not a staredown, and sure as hell not a battle of wits.

So you shift in your chair, tilting your head, letting your lips curl just slightly. “Oh, you know?”

Paige leans back again, arms crossed, shoulders loose. She’s cocky, sure, but there’s something anticipatory in her gaze—like she knows you’re about to challenge her and she’s thrilled about it.

“Mhm.” She nods, casual as ever. “Crystal clear.”

You hum, feigning thoughtfulness, tapping a finger against the open textbook. “Wow. Must be nice. I thought you struggled with retention, but here you are, remembering things that have literally never been said.”

She gasps. “Rude.”

“You’ll get over it,” you deadpan.

Paige, of course, does not let it go. She tips her chin up, meeting your gaze with something wicked and playful tangled in the blue of her eyes. “Okay, fine. You don’t have a little crush on me.”

You exhale, relieved.

“But you definitely think about me when I’m not around.”

Your breath catches. Paige sees it. Her grin stretches wider, knowing, smug.

Oh, you are not letting her have this.

You scoff, shifting back in your chair, fighting the warmth creeping up your spine. ���Paige, you are in my life solely because you can’t pass basic biology. I think about you in the same way people think about a fire alarm that won’t stop beeping.”

“Ah, so constantly?”

You scowl. She beams.

“That’s fair,” Paige shrugs, stretching her arms over her head, and the movement makes her hoodie ride up again, flashing a sliver of tanned stomach. “I am pretty unforgettable. Even when I’m annoying.”

“Especially when you’re annoying,” you mutter.

Paige smirks, but then, as if sensing your growing frustration, she sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes and dragging her textbook closer. “Alright, fine. I’ll study.”

You narrow your eyes. “For real?”

She winks. “Scout’s honor.”

“Paige, you were never a scout.”

“Prove it.”

You sigh but relent, watching as she flips open the book and actually—miraculously—starts reading the page in front of her. You take a sip of your now-cold coffee, reveling in the small victory.

For a blissful forty-five seconds, Paige is silent. Then—

“So, like,” she starts, “mitochondria. That’s the powerhouse of the cell, right?”

You pause. Blink. Lower your coffee. “Yes?”

Paige throws her hands in the air. “Let’s gooo. I’m a genius.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Paige, you have three weeks until your exam. We need to cover way more than that.”

“Okay, okay,” she soothes, putting her hands up in surrender. “Next question.”

You flip to another page, glancing up briefly to make sure she’s paying attention.

She’s not. She’s looking at you.

You pause, caught off guard by the way she’s watching you—not with teasing amusement or lazy smugness, but with something softer. Warmer. Curious.

“Paige,” you warn, shifting uncomfortably.

She blinks, then grins again, but there’s something slightly less sharp about it now. “Nothing, nothing,” she mutters, shaking her head, flipping a page in her book. “Just thinking.”

You hesitate, unsure if you want to ask, what about? But you don’t.

Instead, you clear your throat, turning your attention back to the book. “Okay. Explain the process of osmosis.”

Paige tilts her head dramatically. “Is that, like, when you just chill through life and things come to you naturally?”

“Oh my god, no,” you deadpan.

She grins. “Damn. Thought I was onto something.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “We are so fucked.”

Paige just laughs, bright and easy. “Nah. You’d never let me fail.”

She says it like it’s a fact. Like she knows, without a doubt, that you’d never let hers fall behind. And the worst part is she’s most definitely right.

She twirls her pen between her fingers, spinning it effortlessly like a basketball rolling off the tips of her hands. It’s hypnotizing, actually—the smooth rotations, the lazy way her fingers flick with just enough control to keep it from dropping. She’s been doing this for the last ten minutes, and not once has she even pretended to read the page in front of her.

Meanwhile, you’re hunched over your notes, taking deep, steadying breaths. You tell yourself you won’t let her test your patience today. You won’t get dragged into her game. You won’t—

“Paige,” you say, voice strained.

“Hm?” she replies, still flipping her pen effortlessly.

“Please read.”

Paige hums noncommittally. Turns a page without reading it. You inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. “Paige.”

She finally looks up, resting her chin on her palm, eyes bright with amusement. “What? I’m absorbing information. Through osmosis.”

You close your eyes, count to three. Consider what your life would be like if you had literally any other tutoring assignment.

“You are so lucky you’re athletic,” you mutter, flipping the page back to where she was actually supposed to start reading. “C’mon. Photosynthesis. What do you know?”

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, her hoodie riding up slightly—distractingly—before she drops back down with a smirk, looking at you like she’s about to deliver the most groundbreaking scientific revelation of all time.

“Plants… make food?”

Your eyelid twitches.

“Correct,” you deadpan. “And they do that through—”

“The power of love,” Paige interrupts, placing a hand over her chest. “And sunlight.”

You grip the edge of the table. Consider flipping it over. “Yes. Because that’s what biology is. Disney magic and good vibes.”

Paige grins. “Exactly.”

You open your mouth—probably to unleash a scathing lecture about the sanctity of science—when a shadow hovers at the edge of the table. You glance up—because you always have to glance up when people stop by your study sessions with Paige—and find a girl, probably a freshman, clutching her phone like it’s a sacred artifact.

She shifts on her feet, looking like she’s debating whether she should even speak to Paige. You can already see where this is going.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” the girl says, eyes darting between you and Paige, before ultimately landing—unsurprisingly—on Paige. “Could I, um, get a picture? If that’s okay?”

Paige doesn’t miss a beat. She shifts effortlessly from Slacker Paige to Cool Superstar Paige, flashing an easy grin as she leans back in her chair like she expected this. Like this is as common as someone asking her to pass the salt at dinner.

“Of course,” she says, voice warm, inviting, polished. She stands smoothly, rolling her shoulders back, exuding that same relaxed confidence she has right before sinking a step-back three.

You, meanwhile, remain seated, taking a slow sip of your coffee, already resigned to your fate as Paige Bueckers’ unofficial designated library bodyguard.

It’s routine at this point. The public adoration, the excited stammering, the sheepish thank you so much before they rush off like they just met royalty. And then Paige slides back into her chair, knocking her knee against yours like she doesn’t have an entire fan club scattered across campus.

“Where were we?” she asks casually, flipping her pen again.

You don’t even blink. “You were pretending to study, and I was contemplating my life choices.”

Paige snorts. But before she can respond, another person approaches. You glance up again, already prepared, already so tired. This time, it’s a guy—tall, student-athlete vibes, definitely not looking at you.

“Hey, sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly nervous despite the fact that Paige is already smiling at him like they’re old friends. “Could I get a picture real quick?”

Paige grins. “Yeah, of course.”

You take another sip of your coffee. Stare blankly into the abyss. Same process. Paige stands, poses, flashes her million-dollar smile. The guy stammers out a thanks and hurries off.

You exhale. Set your coffee down. “You done?”

Paige barely has time to smirk before two more people shuffle up, practically vibrating with excitement. She notices your unimpressed expression and loses it, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, now it’s funny,” she murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Now it’s funny?” you echo flatly.

She grins. “Yeah. You look miserable.”

You scowl. Paige beams. Another five minutes pass before the final wave of admirers disperse, and Paige—finally—sinks back into her chair, looking far too pleased with herself.

“I should start charging,” she jokes.

You arch a brow. “Should I start charging? I’m the one sitting here like an unpaid security detail.”

Paige grins, drumming her fingers against the table. “You could be my manager, you know. We’d be an iconic duo.”

You scoff. “We’re not even an iconic study group.”

“Yet,” she corrects.

You roll your eyes but, reluctantly, glance at the time. The session should go another thirty minutes, but between Paige’s inability to focus and her impromptu meet-and-greet, you’re pretty much out of patience.

“Fine,” you sigh, shutting your book. “We’ll pick this up next time.”

Paige fist-pumps like she just nailed a game-winner. “Let’s go.”

You raise a hand. “But—”

Paige groans.

“You actually have to study next time,” you warn, pointing a finger at her like a parent scolding a child. “No excuses. No distractions. No impromptu fan club meetings.”

Paige nods solemnly. “Of course. One hundred percent. Fully locked in.”

You squint at her. “You’re lying to my face.”

She grins. “Yeah. But I did it really well.”

You let out a slow breath, collecting your things, already knowing that next time will be just as chaotic. But, somehow, you don’t hate the idea.

You barely make it two steps out of the library before Paige falls into step beside you, hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie, head tilted toward you like she’s waiting for something. You don’t say anything. Neither does she. But she’s still there, walking at your exact pace, still spinning that damn pen between her fingers like she’s making it her personal mission to erode the last of your patience.

After half a block of this nonsense, you finally huff. “Why are you still here?”

Paige smirks, eyes twinkling. “Wow. I thought we were friends, and you hit me with why are you still here? I think I need to sit down. That was devastating.”

You resist the urge to shove her into a trash can. “You should sit down. With a biology textbook.”

“That,” she sighs dramatically, “sounds like a you problem.”

You groan, but the corners of your lips twitch—just slightly. She glances at you again, side-eyeing, like she’s waiting for you to say something else. You don’t. So, instead, she nudges your arm with her elbow. “You heading back to your dorm?”

“Yep,” you say, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Where some people go to actually study.”

Paige grins. “Fun. I was gonna hit the gym.”

You pretend to be shocked. “No way. The gym? You? Unheard of.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Crazy concept. Gotta keep these knees in top shape so I can keep playing dumb for you in the library.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips do twitch again. When you reach the intersection where you usually part ways, Paige hesitates—just slightly. Her foot taps against the pavement, and she glances at you, like there’s something she wants to say but doesn’t.

But then the crosswalk light changes, and she just flashes her usual grin. “Alright, I’ll see you next time. Can’t wait to waste more of your valuable time.”

You shake your head, already walking away. “You are a waste of my valuable time.”

Paige calls after you, voice dripping with smug amusement. “Admit it! You’d be bored as hell without me!” You don’t respond. Maybe, just maybe, she has a point.

You barely manage to kick the door shut behind you before dropping your bag to the floor, the weight of the entire goddamn week peeling off your shoulders like an old sticker. Your body feels wrecked—like you just played all four quarters of a game you weren’t even supposed to be in. Midterms, tutoring, the endless cycle of pretending you have your shit together when in reality, you’re two missed assignments away from a full-on breakdown.

Your roommate’s bed is empty, the perfectly made sheets an immediate giveaway that she’s already at her boyfriend’s place for the night. Which means the dorm is yours. Finally. A rare and precious occurrence, like a solar eclipse or a professor canceling class with a two-minute email. You grab your laptop from the desk, already knowing exactly how you’re gonna spend the next five hours: Desperate Housewives. Your guilty pleasure. Your lifeline. Your emotional support chaotic suburban drama. You settle onto your bed, wrapping yourself in a blanket cocoon, cracking your knuckles in preparation for an evening of zero responsibilities—when your phone rings.

You groan dramatically, not even bothering to check the screen before answering. “No.”

There’s a pause, then Jordan’s voice comes through, unimpressed. “Bitch, you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Yes, I do,” you sigh, rolling onto your back. “And the answer is no.”

“You’re being difficult,” she complains. “Come out with me.”

“No.”

“C’mon. It’s Friday night. You have no excuses.”

“I have the best excuse. I’m too fucking tired.”

Jordan makes an exaggerated scoffing noise. “Tired from what? Sitting across from your little basketball girlfriend and watching her pretend she doesn’t know how to read?”

You freeze. “She’s not my—”

“Uh-huh.”

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jordan.”

“[Redacted],” she mimics in a deep, mocking tone. “Come out. I’ll buy your first drink.”

“You say that like you’re doing me a favor. It’s literally one drink.”

“Okay, and? You’re broke.”

She’s got you there.

“I have plans,” you try again.

“What plans? Watching white women commit crimes in wedge heels?”

You frown. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Because I know you.”

You press your lips together, because yeah. She does.

Jordan senses weakness and pounces. “You never go out anymore,” she whines. “It’s tragic. I’m watching my best friend turn into a sad little academic goblin. When’s the last time you flirted with someone for fun?”

“I—” You pause. And that’s enough for Jordan.

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t need to flirt with random people, Jordan,” you argue.

“Okay, then come to keep me company. Emily’s bringing her crypto bro boyfriend and I need a buffer. You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For being my best friend, dumbass.”

You let out a long, slow exhale. Your bed is so soft. Your show is right there. Your roommate isn’t gonna be back till morning, which means you could fall asleep watching hot moms commit felony-level fraud and no one would judge you. But Jordan is relentless. And also, maybe, just maybe, she’s right.

“Ugh, okay, fine, one drink,” you say finally.

She screeches. “I’LL BE THERE IN TWENTY.”

“Wait, what the— twenty?!”

“You don’t get time to back out, babe. Love you! Bye!”

The call disconnects. You stare at your ceiling for a long moment before groaning into your pillow. Guess you’re going out. You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your closet like it personally wronged you.

Twenty minutes. Less than that now. Jordan is on time when it comes to dragging you out of your self-imposed hibernation, so you don’t have the luxury of procrastinating. You run a hand through your hair, sighing as you debate your options.

Jeans? Safe. A dress? Too much effort. Skirt? Trying too hard. 

You pull open a drawer, fingers brushing over the usual suspects: black tank, oversized tee, hoodie. The same exact shit you wear every day. You tug at the hem of your pajama shirt instead, already debating if you could get away with staying in. Jordan would literally break into your dorm if she had to.

You settle on something in the middle—black jeans that just hug your waist enough to be flattering without suffocating you, a tight long-sleeve that makes your arms look good, and sneakers. Cute but low effort.

Your reflection stares back at you from the mirror above your desk, and your mind does that thing. That thing where you start thinking in spirals, words layering on top of each other like a too-thick coat of paint. Jordan always looks good when you go out. The hot friend, effortlessly wanted. Guys slip her their numbers, girls compliment her makeup, and you? You’re there. Background noise. The best friend, the safe choice, the one people never approach first.

Your hands move on autopilot, pulling your hair into something presentable, smoothing out wrinkles in your shirt. Your brain moves just as fast, thoughts piling up. When’s the last time someone wanted you? Really, genuinely wanted you?

Not for help on an assignment. Not for a favor. Not as a buffer against some awkward third wheel situation. Your fingers tighten around the mascara wand as you swipe it over your lashes, the thought hitting heavier than it should.

And then there’s her. Paige. Paige, who everyone wants. Paige, whose name alone makes people light up, whose smile makes the world lean in closer. Paige, who has the kind of effortless pull that shouldn’t be real, the kind that isn’t real, except it is—because it’s her.

You imagine what it must be like. To be wanted by everyone. To have people go out of their way just to see you. To be loved by an entire fucking world that doesn’t even know you. To have that kind of pull. You shake your head, dabbing concealer under your eyes, fixing nothing. Paige doesn’t have to think about this. About being ignored. About whether or not someone is really interested or if they just need her for something else. Paige is easy to love.

Your hands are steady as you apply lip gloss, but your thoughts aren’t. Because you know what’s worse? Worse than not being wanted? Feeling like you could be—if only you were someone else. A sharp knock-knock-knock at your door makes you jump, snapping you out of whatever existential spiral you were just sinking into.

You check the time. 7:59. Jordan, always on time when it comes to dragging your ass out of the house.

“Bitch, open up,” she calls through the door, impatience already seeping through her voice. “I know you’re in there, don’t make me break in.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your phone off the bed before opening the door. Jordan doesn’t even wait for an invitation. She just steps in like she owns the place, eyes immediately scanning you up and down.

“Oh, thank god,” she exhales dramatically, throwing herself onto your bed like she just finished a marathon. “For a second, I was scared you were gonna pull some bullshit and answer in sweats.”

“I was considering it.”

“And I would’ve dragged you outside as is.”

She props herself up on her elbows, eyes narrowing slightly. “You look good, though. Like, sexy but nonchalant. Very ‘I don’t try but I still eat men alive.’”

You snort, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull your sneakers on. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

Jordan flips onto her back, legs kicking lazily. “Hot girl vibes activated. I’m proud.”

You ignore the way that your brain still insists on running her words through some dumb internal filter. Hot but? Sexy but? There’s always a but. Still, you appreciate the compliment.

Jordan rolls onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. “Okay, so what’s our game plan?”

You raise a brow. “Game plan?”

She grins. “Are we flirting for fun tonight? Making out with strangers? Taking free drinks and saying thanks but no thanks?”

You scoff, standing to grab your jacket. “You’re doing all of that. I’m drinking one drink, pretending I enjoy being in public, and then leaving.”

Jordan makes a dramatic gagging noise. “You’re so lame, it physically hurts me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You throw on your jacket, checking yourself one last time in the mirror before turning back to her. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jordan squints. “You know, for someone who never goes out, you could at least try to fake some excitement.”

You sigh, grabbing your phone. “Fine.” You flash her your most half-assed smile. “Yay. Alcohol.”

Jordan stares at you for a long beat. Then she cackles.

“I hate you,” she wheezes, hopping off the bed and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon, grumpy girl. Let’s get you drunk.”

You let her steer you out the door, already bracing for whatever the night has in store.

The bar hums with low conversation, the steady pulse of bass from the speakers vibrating against your ribs. The air is thick—spilled beer, cheap whiskey, the faintest trace of cologne as someone brushes past you. It’s crowded, bodies pressing in too close, the kind of warmth that clings to your skin, dampens the edges of your sleeves.

You plant your elbows on the bar, exhaling slow. Jordan’s already disappeared into the crowd, her voice lilting somewhere behind you, laughing too loud at something she probably doesn’t even find funny. You don’t bother looking back. You just need a drink, something cold in your hand, something to make this whole night feel less like a mistake.

The bartender moves in front of you, nodding once in acknowledgment, and you order—automatic, easy, something you don’t have to think about. While you wait, you glance around, taking in the room.

It’s packed, but that’s expected. The usual Friday night chaos—people gathered in clusters, leaning into one another to be heard over the music. A group near the dartboard erupts in laughter, a guy raises his arms in exaggerated victory, another flips him off good-naturedly. At the other end of the bar, a girl tugs her friend closer, whispering something into her ear, their giggles swallowed by the noise.

And then— a flash of blue. You don’t think anything of it at first. Just a hoodie, nothing more. But then there’s another. And another. A guy walks past, a UConn logo stretched across his chest, the lettering cracked and faded from too many washes. At a nearby table, someone’s peeling the label off their beer bottle, the cuff of their UConn crewneck pushed up to their elbows. A girl at the bar turns her head, revealing the unmistakable emblem stitched into the side of her cap.

Your drink lands in front of you with a soft clink. You reach for it, fingers curling around the condensation-slicked glass, but your eyes are still moving, scanning. Near the pool table, someone slams a cue stick down, shaking their head. “Bro, that was insane.”

“I told you,” another guy laughs, taking a swig of his beer. “They were fucking unstoppable.”

A bartender walks by carrying a tray of shots, and someone calls out, voice sharp with excitement—

“To the Huskies!”

A cheer rises, loud and immediate, glasses raised, grins splitting across faces. Your fingers tighten around your drink. Another voice cuts through—closer, rough around the edges like it’s been shouting for hours. “Bueckers was on fire.”

Your stomach tenses. A television flickers in your periphery, mounted above the bar, the broadcast running highlights on a loop. A flash of white jerseys, a blur of movement, the unmistakable arc of a three-pointer sinking clean through the net.

Your gaze catches on the name emblazoned across the back.

BUECKERS. 5.

Your drink sits untouched in your hand. A hand lands on your shoulder, nails cool against your skin. Jordan’s voice cuts through the hum of conversation, bright, energized.

“There you are,” she says, leaning in so you can hear her. Her breath is warm against your ear, smelling faintly of whatever sugary drink she got roped into first. “Why do you always ditch me the second we get here?”

You lift your glass, taking a slow sip before responding. “I didn’t ditch you. You ran off.”

Jordan grins, squeezing your shoulder before letting go. “Details.”

She slides onto the stool beside you, propping her elbows on the bar, the sheer confidence in her posture making it clear that she’s already in her element. You can tell from the way her shoulders are loose, from the easy way she scans the room—she’s here to enjoy herself. She tugs at the collar of her cropped tank, a calculated movement, and you don’t miss the way a pair of eyes flicker toward her from across the bar.

Of course. It never takes long. The girl is pretty—high cheekbones, sharp jaw, hair spilling in soft waves over her shoulders. She’s nursing a drink in one hand, the other tracing idle patterns into the wood of the bar. She’s been looking, you realize. Long enough for it to mean something. Long enough for it to be deliberate.

And Jordan? She notices. She always notices. You watch as she tilts her head slightly, lips curling at the edges, all slow-building amusement. Not an invitation. Not yet. Just an acknowledgment. I see you seeing me. And just like that, the girl moves.

She slides closer, just one seat between her and Jordan now, her presence a hum of subtle perfume and confidence. You feel the shift immediately, the way the space around them tightens, charged with something unspoken. You take another sip of your drink, eyes flicking between them. Jordan doesn’t look over right away. She lets it build, that delicious tension she thrives on, makes the girl wait for it. And when she finally turns her head—slow, purposeful—it’s a hook.

“Hey,” the girl says, voice smooth, honeyed.

Jordan’s lips part slightly, amused. “Hey yourself.”

There it is. The shift, the moment the conversation has already decided what it’s going to be. The girl twirls the stem of her glass between two fingers, considering. “You’re a little hard to miss.”

Jordan lifts a brow. “Yeah?”

The girl nods, a smile playing at her lips. “Saw you the second I walked in.”

You huff a quiet laugh into your drink. Jordan flicks you a glance, but she doesn’t look away for long. She’s locked in now, her full attention settling on the girl beside her.

“That so?” she murmurs.

The girl leans forward slightly, just enough that Jordan can smell whatever floral-citrus perfume she’s wearing. “Mhm.”

Jordan takes her time responding, letting the moment stretch, her fingers tapping lazily against the bar. “And what’d you think?”

The girl laughs, low and knowing. “I think I liked it.”

Jesus. You shake your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. This is Jordan’s playground, and she’s barely even started. Before she can respond, a familiar voice cuts in.

“There you are, finally.”

Emily. And, by default, her crypto bro. You turn just in time to see her sliding in beside you, her expression teetering between fond exasperation and mild relief, like she was worried you wouldn’t actually show. Her boyfriend—god, what’s his name again?—is hovering a step behind her, already half into whatever overpriced IPA he’s nursing.

“Thought you were gonna bail,” Emily says, bumping your arm.

You shake your head. “Almost did.”

She laughs. “Would’ve sent Jordan to physically drag you out of bed.”

“She already threatened to.”

Jordan, not even looking at you, raises a hand and flicks her wrist. “And I would’ve done it with love.”

Emily grins before turning to Jordan, about to say something else—until she sees the girl. And immediately, her expression shifts.

“Oh,” she says, blinking once. Then, lips curving slightly, she leans in, dropping her voice just enough for you to hear. “She’s hot.”

Jordan doesn’t turn her head, but her smirk deepens. “I know.”

The girl doesn’t flinch, unfazed by the blatant cockiness, the sheer Jordan-ness of it all. If anything, she looks more intrigued.

“God, you’re unbearable,” Emily mutters, sipping her drink.

Jordan, at this point, is fully ignoring all of you. She’s gone, deep in the slow back-and-forth of a conversation that’s teetering right on the edge of something. You watch, mildly entertained, as the girl tucks her hair behind her ear, as Jordan lets her gaze flick lower, just for a moment, before meeting her eyes again.

Classic. You’re about to tune them out entirely, return your focus to the drink in your hand, when—

The door swings open.

And just like that, the energy shifts. You don’t see them at first. You feel them. A ripple through the crowd, a flicker of awareness in the way people turn their heads, in the subtle glances exchanged between strangers. The volume dips for half a second—not silence, just a shift, a momentary lapse before everything surges back up again.

Your eyes track toward the entrance—toward the new arrivals pushing through the threshold, stepping into the bar with the ease of people who know they’ll be noticed. White sneakers. Loose sweatpants. Jackets slung over shoulders. And that unmistakable color.

UConn blue.

Jordan is still locked in, her conversation with the pretty girl unfolding in the slow, deliberate way that only happens when both people know exactly what they’re doing. It’s all prolonged eye contact, subtle shifts in body language, the kind of flirting that exists in the pauses as much as in the words. Emily is barely paying attention, absorbed in some argument with her boyfriend about blockchain or whatever the hell it is he does. You’ve stopped listening.

Which means you’re just… there. Third-wheeling at a bar, drink half-finished, barely contributing to the conversation. The worst part is, no one even notices. Jordan, obviously, is in her own world, and Emily is too preoccupied with rolling her eyes at her boyfriend to remember you exist. You take another sip of your drink, letting your eyes wander.

The UConn girls have spread through the bar now, weaving into the crowd like they belong there. You recognize a few faces—players you’ve seen on highlight reels, names you don’t know but should. There’s a looseness to them, an ease, the kind of relaxation that only comes after a win.

You wonder, absently, if Paige is here. Not that it matters. The thought makes you shift slightly, pushing down something vague and uncomfortable. You finish off the last sip of your drink and set the glass down a little too hard, the soft clink barely audible over the noise.

“I need to piss,” you mutter, mostly to no one.

Jordan doesn’t react, too busy letting the girl touch her arm in that slow, lingering way that means she’s definitely coming home with her later. Emily gives a halfhearted wave, her focus still locked on her boyfriend, who is currently explaining something with way too much hand movement.

You slip into the crowd, navigating the maze of bodies with the kind of single-minded determination usually reserved for final exams and finding your phone when it’s on silent. The bass from the speakers vibrates through the floor, thrumming up through your sneakers, settling somewhere in your chest. Every step feels like walking through molasses—people shifting, swaying, arms brushing against yours in that careless way that comes with alcohol and too many bodies packed into one space.

You make it to the hallway leading to the bathrooms and nearly sigh in relief. It’s quieter here—not quiet, but enough that you can hear yourself think. The walls are still pulsing faintly with the music, the distant echo of a chorus threading through the air, but it’s a reprieve from the chaos of the main bar.

And then you see the door. Locked.

Holy fuck, you’re about to piss yourself. You try the handle anyway because maybe the universe will be kind, but no—solid, unmoving. Leaning against the opposite wall, you exhale sharply, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. Fine. You’ll wait. Not a big deal.

Except time starts dragging. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, tapping your fingers against your thigh. One minute passes. Two. You check your phone, even though you just checked your phone.

Okay. You can handle this.

Except—five minutes in, it’s not just uncomfortable. It’s annoying. Who the fuck is in there? Writing a novel? Performing a one-act play? Curing a disease?

You knock once, firm but not aggressive. Just enough to remind whoever is inside that there’s a whole world out here.

No response. Another minute passes. You cross your arms, shifting again, foot tapping against the floor. Seven minutes.

You knock again. Harder this time. “Yo.”

Nothing. Oh, come on. You glance toward the men’s bathroom. It’s right there. Completely open. No line. Just an empty doorway leading to salvation. Wouldn’t be the first time. But before you can talk yourself into it, you knock again. Hard. Impatient. At this point, you’re not even polite about it—you just hit the door. “Hurry up, Jesus Christ.”

The lock clicks. A second later, the door swings open, and out stumbles a couple—disheveled, flushed, and absolutely not here to use the bathroom for its intended purpose. The girl giggles into her boyfriend’s neck, her lipstick half-smeared, while his hands are still gripping her hips like they’re considering going back in for round two.

You don’t even react. You just shove past them, slam the door shut, and finally—finally—relieve yourself. Blessed silence, aside from the muffled bass still thumping through the walls. You take a moment to breathe, running your hands through your hair, shaking off the weird tension that’s been clinging to you all night. You’re fine. It’s fine.

When you step back out, the hallway’s busier—more people filing in, laughing too loud, waiting their turn. You navigate through them, dodging the wobbly, half-drunk girl clinging to her friend’s arm, sidestepping the guy trying way too hard to look casual against the wall. You’re almost back to the main floor when—

A hand catches your wrist. Firm, deliberate. Enough pressure to stop you, but not enough to hurt. Your breath stutters—not from fear, not exactly, but from the sheer certainty in that grip. Like whoever’s holding you already knew they would.

You turn your head. And there she is.

Paige fucking Bueckers.

Loose hoodie, sleeves pushed up, exposing the lean muscle in her forearms. A chain glinting under the dim bar lights, catching for half a second on the sharp line of her collarbone before disappearing beneath fabric. Her hair is a little messier than usual, like she’s run a hand through it one too many times. And her expression?

Smug. Smug as hell.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, her grip on your wrist still firm, thumb brushing once over your pulse before she finally—leisurely—lets go. “Fancy seeing you here, tutor.”

Her voice is low, teasing. The kind of tone that makes you want to roll your eyes and press your thighs together at the same damn time.

You exhale sharply. “Oh, fuck me.”

Her grin widens instantly, wolfish. “I mean, if you insist—”

You smack her arm, and she laughs. Not just a chuckle, but a full-bodied, head-tilted-back, entirely too pleased with herself kind of laugh. It’s obnoxious. It’s attractive. It’s exactly why you need to get out of this conversation immediately.

But Paige has other plans. She steps closer—just enough that you feel the heat of her body, just enough that the crowd shifts around you, forcing you to stay exactly where you are. Her gaze drops, just for a second, flickering down your outfit before dragging back up, slow, deliberate.

“You clean up nice,” she muses. “Didn’t know you owned anything other than oversized sweatshirts.”

You narrow your eyes. “Didn’t know you left the gym.”

She hums, tapping her chin like she’s considering. “True. But, you know, when you drop thirty-six points in a game, you kinda have to celebrate.”

Of course she dropped thirty-six.

“And yet,” you deadpan, “here you are. Bothering me.”

Paige grins, shifting on her feet so she’s even closer, close enough that you can smell her cologne—something crisp, clean, expensive. Unfair.

“C’mon, don’t act so surprised,” she murmurs. “You knew we’d run into each other eventually.”

You raise a brow. “Did I?”

She tilts her head, amused. “Yeah. ‘Cause you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

Your pulse skips. “I have not—”

“Oh, you definitely have,” Paige interrupts, smirking. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you switching up your usual schedule. Skipping our tutoring session on Tuesday.” She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Tragic. Really had me wondering if I did something to offend you.”

God, she’s insufferable. And yet—

“Like you care,” you shoot back.

Her eyes glint, sharp, knowing. “Oh, I do.”

Something thickens in the air between you. Something tangible, humming just beneath the surface of her cocky smirk, her unwavering stare. Her fingers twitch at her side, like she’s considering reaching for you again. You see it happen, the micro-movement, the shift of her weight like she’s deliberating. And then, just as quickly, she exhales, straightening to her full height.

“Well,” she says, her voice dipping into something smoother, softer, “if you’re not avoiding me, then I guess you wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink with me, huh?”

You blink. “What.”

She jerks her chin toward the bar. “Drink. You. Me.”

You hesitate. That same pressure returns, that feeling of everyone wants her, but somehow, right now, she’s locked onto you. Paige watches you, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. “What’s wrong, tutor? Afraid you might enjoy my company?”

Your jaw tightens. “I tolerate your company.”

She smirks. “Then come tolerate me at the bar.”

Your mistake wasn’t stopping when she grabbed your wrist. Your mistake was letting her talk. Because now Paige fucking Bueckers is smirking at you like she’s already won something, head tilted, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie like she’s lounging through this entire interaction. You can already feel yourself being pulled into her orbit, and she knows it.

“A drink?” you echo, squinting at her. “You? Drinking?”

Her smirk grows. “Shocking, I know.”

“Lemme guess,” you deadpan. “Protein powder with a splash of vodka? Maybe a nice gatorade-infused tequila?”

Paige gasps—actually gasps, pressing a hand to her chest like you just accused her of a heinous crime. “Wow. You think so little of me.”

“I think exactly the right amount of you.”

She exhales dramatically, shaking her head. “Tragic. Here I am, just a small-town basketball star trying to enjoy a simple, wholesome night out, and my own tutor is out here slandering my good name.”

You raise a brow. “Your good name?”

She nods solemnly. “That’s right. I am, at heart, a simple girl with simple pleasures.” Then, as if to punctuate the absolute bullshit she just said, she throws an arm around your shoulder, leaning in until her lips are a breath away from your ear. “Like dirty Shirley Temples.”

You choke. On nothing. Paige pulls back, just enough to see your reaction, the sharp glint of amusement in her gaze practically sparkling.

“No fucking way,” you manage. “You drink dirty Shirley Temples?”

She grins. “Religiously.”

“That’s—” You blink, at a complete fucking loss. “That’s the most unserious drink you could have possibly chosen.”

Paige winks. “And yet? It goes down smooth.”

“Oh, I bet it does.”

She laughs, full and warm, tilting her head like she’s considering something. “Y’know,” she muses, “I like this side of you.”

You narrow your eyes. “What side?”

Paige drops her voice, lowers it into something silkier, something that slides down your spine in a way that should be illegal. “The one that flirts with me back.”

Your brain short-circuits. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb now,” she murmurs, fingers tapping lazily against the side of your arm like she’s keeping count of your heartbeat. “You’re usually so good at keeping up.”

You hate that she’s right. You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to regain some composure. “You are so full of shit.”

Paige hums. “Maybe. But you seem to love it.” And then she winks. A full, obnoxious, Paige Bueckers-grade wink.

Oh, you are not going out like this. You lean in, just barely, watching the way her smirk twitches, the way her fingers still on your arm. “Tell you what,” you say, keeping your voice light, casual, like you’re not insanely aware of how close she is. “I’ll let you buy me a drink—”

Paige perks up. “Yeah?”

“If,” you continue, “you admit that I’ve been absolutely kicking your ass in our tutoring sessions.”

Her lips part. “Oh, hell no.”

You grin. “What’s wrong? Afraid of the truth?”

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head like she’s personally offended. “No fucking way. That’s extortion.”

“That’s accountability.”

She squints at you. “You are so lucky you’re hot.”

Your breath catches. For a split second, you completely malfunction, and Paige fucking sees it. 

She grins—huge, like she just sank a game-winner at the buzzer. “Ohhh, that got you, huh?”

You snap back immediately. “Did not.”

“Uh-huh.” She crosses her arms, rocking back on her heels. “You were fully thrown off just now.”

You roll your eyes, trying to pretend like you didn’t just combust internally. “You gonna buy me that drink or what?”

Paige sighs like you’ve personally exhausted her. “Fine,” she relents. “But I’m getting you my favorite.”

You smirk. “A dirty Shirley?”

She grins. “Exactly.”

And with that, she grabs your hand—just for a second, just to tug you toward the bar, just long enough to make your pulse spike before she lets go.

The bar is packed. Bodies pressed together, voices overlapping, the occasional burst of laughter breaking through the thumping bass. Paige moves through it like she owns the place—shoulders loose, hoodie slouched just right, that damn chain flashing under the dim lights. You follow, pretending your eyes aren’t tracking the way her sweatpants sit just low enough on her hips to be distracting.

She leans against the bar, elbow propped up, and tilts her head at you like she’s studying something.

You squint. “What.”

Her lips twitch. “Nothing. Just trying to figure you out.”

“You’ve had months to do that.”

“Yeah, but you keep surprising me.” She drums her fingers against the counter, slow and rhythmic. “Like, for example, I knew you had some bite to you, but tonight? You’re really showing your teeth.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe I’m just extra annoyed by you today.”

Paige hums, tilting her head like she’s considering. Then, before you can react, she leans in—close, warm, too close—and brushes her lips just against the shell of your ear.

“Nah,” she murmurs, voice dipping low. “You like it.”

A slow, rolling shiver spreads down your spine.

Paige pulls back, just far enough to meet your eyes, her smirk lazy and so fucking smug. She knows exactly what she just did. You hate that she’s right. Before you can retaliate, the bartender appears. Paige turns, all casual ease, and grins.

“Two dirty Shirleys,” she says.

The bartender raises a brow but nods, moving to make the drinks. You stare at Paige. She shrugs. “Hey, a deal’s a deal.”

“You actually meant it?”

“Duh,” she says. “What, you think I just flirt for fun?”

Your lips part, because yes, obviously, that’s exactly what you think. Paige sees the way your expression shifts, and her grin deepens. “Aw, babe, don’t tell me you thought I was playing with you.”

You blink. “I—”

She tuts, shaking her head. “See, now I really need you to drink this, ‘cause you need to loosen up.”

The bartender slides the drinks over. Paige pushes one toward you, watching expectantly. You hesitate. Paige lifts hers and clinks the rim of her glass against yours. “C’mon, tutor. Don’t be scared.”

Scared? Oh, that does it. You grab the glass and take a sip, the sweet bite of grenadine and vodka coating your tongue. Paige watches the way your throat moves when you swallow, her lips parting just slightly.

Just like that, the game shifts. You lower the glass, eyes locking with hers.

“Not bad,” you murmur. Then, mirroring her move from earlier, you step in just enough to make her breath hitch, tilting your head slightly like you’re about to say something important—something deep, something meaningful.

And then— you drag your tongue slowly over your bottom lip and the blonde’s eyes darken. You almost laugh, but her hand suddenly brushes against your waist, just a whisper of contact, the heat of her palm radiating through your thin shirt. It’s brief—so brief you could almost pretend it didn’t happen—but the way your skin burns says otherwise.

“Shit,” Paige mutters under her breath, just for you to hear.

You smirk. “Something wrong?”

Her jaw tightens. “Not at all.”

She takes a sip of her own drink, eyes never leaving yours, throat bobbing as she swallows. The moment stretches. Then—Paige exhales sharply, like she’s shaking something off, and grins. “Alright, alright, you win this round,” she admits, nudging your arm with hers. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You tilt your head. “Guess you’ll just have to keep figuring me out.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “God, you’re fun.”

Then, so casually, she hooks a finger into your belt loop and tugs. It’s playful. It’s barely anything. But it’s also everything. Because she doesn’t let go. You swallow. Hard.

Her voice is softer now, but the teasing edge is still there. “I like this side of you.”

You clear your throat, trying desperately to focus on something other than the warmth of her touch. “You said that already.”

Paige smirks. “Yeah. But I really like it.”

Paige is cocky. Too cocky. The kind of cocky that drips off her like it’s stitched into her damn DNA, like she was born knowing how to get under people’s skin, into their heads. And right now, she’s looking at you like she’s already inside yours, like she’s set up shop in the most dangerous corners of your mind and made herself comfortable. She still has her finger hooked in your belt loop. Just resting there, like she belongs there.

“You’re staring,” she murmurs, sipping her drink, tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of grenadine before it can slide past her lip.

Your jaw clenches. You look down at her grip on your jeans, then back up. Blatantly.

She smirks. “What, this?” She tugs. Not hard. Just enough to make the fabric of your jeans pull against your hip, just enough to remind you she’s right there.

You don’t move. “Let go.”

She hums, tilting her head. “Nah.”

Your fingers twitch around your glass. “Paige.”

She exhales, all mock exasperation, finally—finally—releasing her hold. But before you can celebrate your very minor victory, she leans in, voice dropping to something dangerously smooth. “Relax. You can touch me if you want.”

Your breath catches.

She laughs, tipping her drink toward you in mock salute. “You’re so fun to mess with.”

You narrow your eyes, pulse still skittering from the low, teasing way she said touch me. “You’re insufferable.”

Paige hums. “Maybe, you like it.”

And there it is. The line. The one she’s been waiting to say, the one she’s been circling since the second she grabbed your wrist.

You roll your shoulders, schooling your expression into something neutral. “You’re alright.”

Her brows lift. “‘Alright’? Wow.”

You sip your drink, unfazed. “I mean, you are failing bio.”

Paige scoffs. “Unnecessary.”

“Just saying. I don’t think geniuses need tutors.”

Paige smirks. “Nah, but they do need entertainment. And you, babe—” she tips her chin toward you, eyes gleaming, “—are so fucking entertaining.”

The casual babe nearly stops your brain completely.

You grip your glass tighter. “I should charge you extra.”

“For what? Intellectual stimulation?”

“For being exhausting.”

Paige’s grin widens. “Yet, here you are. Still talking to me.” She takes another slow sip of her drink, eyes locked onto yours over the rim of her glass. Watching you. Like she’s waiting for something.

You shift your weight, feeling entirely too seen, entirely too open under that gaze. Paige notices. Of course she does. Her lips part, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek like she’s considering something.

Then—before you can react—she leans in.

Your body locks up.

She gets close. Not teasingly close, not almost close—actual close. The kind of close that makes your heart trip over itself, the kind of close that makes your breath catch in the back of your throat.

Her lips hover right there, her breath warm against your jaw. Then, quietly, smugly—obnoxiously:

“Wanna make out?”

You freeze.

She grins. “What? You look like I just asked you to solve a physics problem.”

“Are you serious?”

Paige tilts her head. “Nah, I just like watching you panic.”

She’s so fucking unbearable. You set your glass down with a sharp clink. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny.”

“You’re a menace.”

She beams. “You don’t seem to mind it.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the heat of the bar, or the way Paige is looking at you like she wants something—like she’s daring you—but suddenly, your patience snaps.

You grip the front of her hoodie and pull. She barely has a second to react before your lips crash into hers. Paige groans. A low, gravelly sound that vibrates against your mouth, sending heat shooting straight to your stomach. And fuck, she kisses back.

All cocky, eager pressure, her hands already gripping your waist, her fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt like she wants to feel more.

The bar melts away. The noise, the people, everything—all of it fades because Paige is right here, kissing you like she’s been waiting for you to do this since day one.

You tilt your head, chasing the taste of vodka and cherry on her tongue, and Paige makes this obscene little noise before she presses in, deeper, her teeth grazing just enough to make your knees buckle. You gasp, and she smirks into the kiss, like she knows, like she’s already winning again.

Asshole.

You yank at the waistband of her sweatpants, a little revenge, a little fuck you, and Paige laughs—low, breathless—before biting gently at your bottom lip, sending a full-body shiver down your spine. Your grip on her tightens.

She hums, pleased. “Knew you wanted me.”

You pull back, just barely, panting. “Shut the fuck up.”

Paige grins, lips swollen, eyes gleaming. “Make me.”

[dreamersparacosm]

Girl we need a smut blurb for them , im talking wild sex . I’ll take anything I know they’re both freaked out

well, well, well. you put two overachievers in a bed and what’s going to happen? magic, that’s what. or maybe he’ll just use your vibrator as part of your scheduled stress relief. whatever.

the price of desire — epilogue blurb 3!

prompt ; in which stress relief takes on a whole new definition.

warnings ; sex toy usage, fingering, jungkook cums in his pants

There are worse problems to have, you tell yourself.

Ever since you and Jungkook officially started dating, things have gotten a little… out of hand (and by “out of hand,” you mean fucking each other senseless across multiple continents.)

Obviously it started in New York and Seoul. Then it was Paris. You two dabbled in exhibitionism during a trip to Bali. Now it’s whatever remote, paparazzi-proof destinations your travel agent nervously books for you at 2 in the morning.

Hotels, apartments, rental cars, bathrooms you’re pretty sure were not designed to withstand the kind of behavior you’re inflicting on them. At this point, it’s becoming a global crisis. International security agencies may want to get involved.

It’s getting so frequent, so mind-numbingly good, that you’re starting to worry about yourself a little. Like, is it normal to see god every weekday?

Unclear.

But it is nice, really nice, to relieve that stress that weighs on you after a workday. (And god knows you have plenty of that to go around.)

Jungkook is, if nothing else, very committed to the cause. He takes care of you painfully well, as if it’s his full-time job and the only acceptable performance review is your legs shaking too hard to stand.

Case in point: you’re currently spread out across your bed in New York, lips swollen from a makeout, hair damp from the bath he ran for you, and he’s kneeling between your legs, big palms dragging slow strokes up and down your thighs.

It's a perfect Wednesday night, all safe and soft and steady until he drops his suggestion into the quiet.

“Let me use the vibrator on you, baby.”

Your brain, already half-melted from the hour-long slow burn he’s been subjecting you to, scrambles for purchase.

You are not equipped for this on a Wednesday night. Especially not after a 14 hour workday, 2 back-to-back global strategy calls, and a last minute crisis involving a Calvin Klein store opening in Shanghai.

You open your mouth to respond, yet nothing makes its way out.

Jungkook smiles at you with amusement and reaches over to the nightstand like it’s the most casual thing in the world. As if he didn’t casually drop a bomb into the atmosphere of your previously scheduled stress-relief session.

With bulging eyes, you observe as he pulls open the drawer, rummages around for a second, and then holds up your light purple vibrator in his hands.

The device is small and sleek, manages to look mockingly innocent resting in his palm.

You stare at it, then at him, mouth working like a fish suddenly introduced to the concept of air.

"I—" You stutter eloquently.

He responds with that signature grin, the one that makes you want to throw a pillow at his face and climb him like a tree. "Come on, baby," he coaxes, "You said you were stressed. Think of this as... advanced relaxation techniques."

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. "This wasn't exactly what I meant by 'stress relief.'"

"What's the worst that could happen?" he asks innocently, setting the vibrator down beside you before leaning close to press a kiss against your inner knee. "You enjoy yourself too much?"

"The audacity," You roll your eyes, trying and failing to suppress the shiver his touch sends up your spine.

"It’s like.. a scientific experiment," he continues, trailing featherlight kisses up your thigh. "Testing the effects of a vibrator on stress."

"Did you just turn my vibrator into a science fair project?"

His laugh rumbles against your skin. "I'm innovative like that. Always thinking about my subject’s satisfaction."

"You’re not selling it," You sigh but there's no heat behind it.

"I'm persistent," he corrects, looking up at you with darkened eyes. "And also extremely dedicated to your wellbeing. Just say yes."

You can’t look at him. With his mess of black hair falling over his forehead, with his eyes displaying a glint of mischief and the stupid Calvin Klein white t-shirt that drives you crazy. He’s so fucking hot, and it brings you to the brink of temporary insanity. That’s how you got in this mess in the first place.

What you need to be doing is saying no. Set some kind of a boundary. Be a strong, independent woman who does not immediately fold at the suggestion of midweek sex toy experimentation.

You do none of those things. Rather, you sigh and flop back against the pillows, one arm flung dramatically over your eyes.

“Fine,” you mutter like he’s inconveniencing you. “Whatever. Just don’t break my toy.”

You hear him laugh, a rich velvety rumble that vibrates through you while the mattress dips beneath his weight as he repositions himself closer to your core.

Before you even take your next breath, he’s kissing up your thighs, hands stroking the backs of your knees, your calves, your hips.

The vibrator hums to life; it’s soft at first, a low sound and your stomach flips violently.

Curiosity compels you to emerge from behind your self-imposed blindfold just in time to witness his gaze fixed upon you. He is a hungry man, you’ll give him that much.

Which leads you to your next thought: you’re not even sure why you bothered putting on underwear after the bath. A small, defeated part of you wants to blame some lingering sense of dignity, some naive attempt at not being completely easy just because your boyfriend washed your hair like a Disney prince and kissed your shoulder after.

Whatever weak attempt at decency you made is long gone the second Jungkook hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts dragging them down. Thumbs brushing over the dip of your hips like he’s memorizing every line, every secret part of you he already owns.

The cotton peels away from your thighs, and the cool air hits your core, makes you shiver. He works them down over your knees, then your ankles, tossing them somewhere behind him without a second thought.

You’re already squirming a little, hips shifting against the mattress, thighs clenching reflexively, but he just chuckles under his breath before reaching for the hem of your oversized T-shirt. (Technically his T-shirt. Technically yours now. He stopped fighting that battle months ago.)

Slowly, he pushes it up, bunching it around your waist, exposing the soft skin of your belly, the slick glistening between your legs that you’re trying very hard not to feel embarrassed about.

A single finger gets dragged between your folds, dipping into the mess he’s barely even touched you to create, and you can’t help the broken little gasp that escapes your mouth. “Oh—“

Jungkook lifts his hand and holds it up between you. Your slick clings to his finger. Shining in the soft light your lamp provides.

The bastard. How dare he provide proof of your demise.

He raises a brow smugly. “Already this wet, baby?” He teases.

You glare at him, or at least try, but it’s hard to summon the proper outrage when your body is practically vibrating with need.

“Shut the fuck up,” You grumble.

He laughs and settles himself back between your thighs. The toy hums softly beside you, still on the lowest setting and when he picks it up again, your stomach nearly exits your body.

He strokes the inside of your thigh with his free hand, “Ready?” He asks. Jungkook’s always been sure to consent; you do know he’s genuinely asking for permission.

You nod, frantic, willing to sell your soul if he would just please, please touch you already.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

For the love of everything holy.

You jolt forward violently the second the vibrator touches your clit. Even on the lowest setting it’s too much, white-hot pleasure snapping up your spine and exploding behind your eyes.

“Fuck—” You gasp, whole body twitching, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

A string of curse words falls out of your mouth before you can stop them, completely and deliriously out of your control.

Jungkook smiles, presses his palm flat against your thigh to pin you down. “You’re so sensitive tonight,” He notes, somewhat amused.

You might cry. God damn him for being so perfect to you that he’s holding a vibrator to you and not making comments about how “he could do it better.”

You settle for grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and moaning helplessly when he adjusts the angle slightly, nudging the vibrator a little higher until your hips are jerking against the mattress.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing slow circles into your thigh. “Let me take care of you.”

Alright, you’re not afraid to admit — maybe you didn’t care much for his definition of stress relief before.

But now? Now you need it more than anything.

You’re a mess; panting, moaning, hips twitching up and it’s still on the lowest setting.

You risk a glance down your body, and the sight nearly undoes you. Jungkook is watching you intensely, brows drawn, lip ring caught between his teeth, arms flexing where he’s bracing you open.

The look on his face alone could make you finish.

“Please,” you gasp. “M-More.”

He nods once, like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Yeah, baby?” he’s clearly out of breath, thumb brushing over your thigh in grounding circles. “I got you.”

Jungkook clicks the vibrator up to the medium setting, and the second the stronger vibration hits your clit, your back arches clean off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat. There’s a hum that comes from low in his throat while he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“You’re so good for me,” He says against your skin. “So desperate already. Bet you could cum just like this, couldn’t you? Just from how good it feels?”

His tattooed fingers squeeze your flesh harder, holding you open, keeping you steady, and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to sob, truthfully.

Jungkook drags the vibrator in slow circles over your clit, keeping you teetering right on the edge before mercifully setting it down beside you. You barely have time to breathe before he’s spitting into his hand and sliding two fingers between your thighs.

The second he pushes them inside your entrance, you buck violently, a whine tearing out of your mouth. “F-fuck—”

You feel impossibly full already, walls clenching around the stretch, the slick sounds embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent room.

Jungkook groans mostly to himself, head dropping forward to watch where he’s sinking into you.

“God, baby,” he exhales, curling his fingers in that way that makes your toes curl too. “You’re so fucking wet.“

You moan helplessly. Obviously, the man must be trying to kill you. A death wish of sorts. He works his fingers inside you, dragging them along that sweet spot that has you keening into the mattress before reaching over with his free hand to flick the vibratot back on.

He sets it to the highest setting — and holy mother — you nearly catapult off the bed. The intense, overwhelming buzz against your clit paired with the slow pump of his fingers inside you is absolutely lethal.

You choke on some form of a gasp, thighs jerking. All thoughts of work, stress, the world outside this room — gone. Obliterated.

Jungkook, flushed and sweaty, arm veins flexing with every stroke of his fingers, can’t take his eyes off the mess you’re making on your sheets beneath you.

Your thighs are trembling violently now, little spasms you can’t control. You try — god, you want it noted you do try — to keep your hips still, to hold off a little longer.

But the man is evidently on a mission. Fingers fucking into you deep and steady, the vibrator merciless against your clit, voice rougher than normal: “Cum for me, baby. I wanna see it. Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers. Please.”

You’re way past the point of rational thought. Spinning out. Every nerve ending burning hot under your skin.

“Fuck—” you sob. “Kook— I’m gonna— oh fuck, fuckfuck—”

Neither of you get to find out what you’re “gonna” before the orgasm tears through you viscerally, a full-body convulsion that has you crying out and grabbing onto his wrist.

Your toes curl involuntarily against the sheets while your thighs close around his head, stomach muscles clenching before your whole body lets itself fall into the pleasure.

For one disorienting moment, your vision actually blurs at the edges — a genuine blackout that some doctor could probably explain but you're certainly in no condition to contemplate — while somewhere in the distance you hear yourself gasping his name in a way that makes you grateful these walls are soundproof.

You’re panting when it finally ebbs, chest heaving, pussy clenching desperately around his fingers. Jungkook presses a kiss to your thigh again, slowly eases his fingers out and shuts off the vibrator that's become both your nemesis and savior in the span of minutes.

There’s a quiet that feels almost startling compared to your thundering heartbeat.

You’re floating somewhere, the bed seeming to perform a gentle carousel spin around you when he grabs your face gently with both hands and kisses you. You kiss him back automatically, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt.

Through the haze, you murmur against his mouth, “Take your sweatpants off. Wanna fuck you.”

He responds with a groan, pressing his forehead against yours. Insistently, you tug at the waistband, whining a little when he resists.

“Come on,” you mumble, still half-drunk off your orgasm. “I need you.”

He makes a choked sound and pulls back to look you in the eye. His body moves to lean against your headboard, and you scooch over to kiss down his neck while he tries to come up with whatever excuse he can.

And then comes the confession, tripping awkwardly from his lips. “I… uh…”

Your eyes narrow into spiteful little slits, pulling away from him.

He winces, a full-body cringe that would be adorable under other circumstances but currently only amplifies your confusion.

“I… I came already,” He confesses, so low you almost don’t catch it.

Jeon Jungkook? The Jeon Jungkook… came in his boxers like a teenage virgin.. from using your vibrator against you?

You blink repeatedly, brain attempting to process this unexpected plot twist.

“What?” You say dumbfounded.

He covers his face with one large hand in the universal gesture of mortification, ears betraying him by flushing a deep crimson even in the room's low light.

“You— you… came? Just from—?”

Your boyfriend groans, clearly exploring the possibility of spontaneous human combustion as a merciful escape route.

“You looked so good,” he murmurs into his palm. “I couldn’t— fuck, I tried to hold it—”

You stare at him for another second. Then, completely against your will, you burst out laughing. It spills out in waves that are equal parts exhaustion, affection, and perhaps a whisper of mockery, but your attempts to suppress it prove to be futile.

Jungkook glares at you weakly through his fingers.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, “My idiot.”

He grumbles something unintelligible while pulling you firmly against his chest, a transparent attempt to muffle your laughter and hide his reddening face but your giggles persist. At some point, you do take the opportunity he presents to nestle your face into the warm crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, a chuckle exiting once every few minutes.

All things considered?

Not a bad way to spend a Wednesday night. Not bad at all.

masterlist + ask

[nhmkhnh]

playgirl problems.

pairings: playgirl!ellie x fem!reader

preface: ellie williams has a bad habit of flirting like it’s a sport—and unfortunately for you, she just found her favorite opponent.

author's note: GYAHAHAHA IM BACK!! with our playgirl ellie <3

wrn: lowercase, messy (like the last one haha.)

navigation.

the library’s quieter than usual, save for the dull scratch of highlighters and the occasional throat-clear of a stressed grad student. you're at your usual spot, second floor corner by the window, headphones on and ankle bouncing under the table as you skim a dense psych article. you don’t notice her at first.

not until she pulls the chair out across from you and sits down like she owns the place.

you glance up. faded flannel. silver rings. that damn smirk. ellie williams.

ellie fucking williams.

you blink. “did i say you could sit here?”

she leans back like she’s been invited, legs wide, chewing on a lollipop stick with a gleam in her eye. “didn’t hear you say i couldn’t, babe.”

you pull out one earbud, slow and suspicious. “pretty sure this isn’t your usual section. lost?”

ellie taps her temple. “nope. just figured the smartest girl on campus would be worth studying.”

you freeze, then scoff. “seriously? that’s the line you’re going with?”

“i got better ones, but i didn’t want to scare you off right away.”

you stare at her. she stares back. no shame. no blinking. just those annoyingly pretty green eyes and the devil-may-care aura that has half the campus wrapped around her tattooed finger.

you go back to reading.

“studying psych?” she asks, like you're not trying to ignore her.

you sigh. “yeah.”

“cool. maybe you can psychoanalyze why i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your eye twitches.

she grins, sensing the crack. “c’mon, that was a little good, right? a solid 7.5?”

you slam your highlighter down. “ellie, what do you want?”

she shrugs, leaning forward now, arms crossed on the table. “maybe i like girls who hide behind earbuds and wear oversized sweaters like armor. maybe i think it's cute how you chew your pen when you're concentrating.”

you narrow your eyes. “you’ve been watching me?”

she smiles, infuriatingly soft this time. “only all semester.”

your heart stumbles. you don’t show it. “and you just now decided to talk to me?”

ellie tilts her head. “was waiting for the perfect opening line.”

you blink. “and that was it?”

she laughs, low and warm. “nah. that was just my excuse to get closer.”

you shake your head, trying not to smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re gorgeous. it’s a problem.”

you try to return to your paper. you fail. she’s too loud, even when silent. her foot taps near yours. her eyes don’t leave your face. her damn lollipop clinks against her teeth as she flips it lazily in her mouth.

you sigh again, resigning. “if i let you sit here… will you shut up?”

“sure.” she leans back, victorious. “only if i get your number after.”

you roll your eyes.

but you don’t say no.

your 8am lecture is your least favorite thing about college.

the room is cold, the professor speaks like he hates everyone, and your eyes don’t fully open until thirty minutes in. you stumble out, hoodie up, bag sliding off your shoulder, and nearly walk straight into a human wall.

or, more accurately—a plaid-sleeved, tattooed, mischief-eyed wall.

ellie. again.

she’s leaned casually against the hallway pillar, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, one foot resting back like this is her personal runway. she grins the second you notice her.

“you stalking me?” you mutter, clutching your coffee cup like a shield.

she pushes off the wall with a shrug. “maybe. or maybe i just figured this hallway needed some… visual improvement.”

you snort. “you mean you?”

“exactly,” she winks, falling into step beside you. “plus, i heard someone cute had an 8am here. had to verify.”

you roll your eyes, too tired to fight but too amused to stop smiling. “what, do you have spies now?”

“nah,” she shrugs. “just good hearing. and an unhealthy obsession with the way you say ‘fuck’ when you're tired.”

you pause mid-step. “you heard that?”

“every time.” she leans in slightly, voice dropping. “kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

you groan. “ellie.”

“what?”

“do you ever turn it off?”

her eyes flick to you, playful but soft around the edges. “only when you look like you hate it.”

you don’t. not even close. but she doesn’t need to know that. yet.

“so what, you just waited out here… alone… all morning?”

she shrugs again like it’s no big deal. “wasn’t all morning. got here like twenty minutes early.”

you stop. “ellie.”

“what?” she grins.

“why.”

“i told you. cute girl. bad class. i figured you could use some moral support. or a ride to your next one.”

you blink. “you don’t even know where my next one is.”

she pulls out her phone and taps the screen. “wanna bet?”

you stare. she grins wider.

“how—”

“you mentioned it once, like, three weeks ago,” she says, sliding her phone back in her pocket. “i remember stuff.”

your heart hiccups.

you keep walking just to distract yourself from it. “that’s creepy.”

“that’s thoughtful.”

“that’s borderline unhinged.”

she smirks. “you like it.”

you don’t respond. which is, of course, its own kind of answer.

as you reach the steps outside, she opens the door for you and bows dramatically. “after you, m’lady.”

you snort. “that’s terrible.”

“thought it might make you laugh,” she says, following behind with a lopsided grin. “i like your laugh.”

you glare at her sideways. “stop being nice. i’m tired and emotionally vulnerable.”

she gasps. “perfect. that’s my ideal dating window.”

you nearly choke on your coffee.

and ellie? ellie just watches you with that damn smirk like she’s got all the time in the world—and all of it’s for you.

“okay, if we divide up the chapters—wait, where’s the highlighter? did someone move—”

you’re mid–study group chaos when the door creaks open and a familiar voice cuts through the noise like it owns the damn air.

“yo. you guys got room for one more?”

your head snaps up. and there she is.

ellie fucking williams. standing in the doorway of your tiny library study room, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair messily tied back, grin as casual as her tone. like this isn’t the chemistry review session she has zero reason to attend.

you blink. “ellie.”

she winks. “hey, gorgeous.”

a groan comes from one of your group members. “oh my god, not again.”

someone mutters, “you’re not even in this class.”

ellie shrugs, strolling in like she was invited. “yeah, but my girl is. so.”

you nearly drop your pen.

“ellie—” you start, warningly.

she’s already sitting beside you, dragging a chair over so close your knees bump. “relax, i brought snacks.”

she unzips her bag dramatically, revealing a tragic amount of sour gummies, two protein bars, and… a capri sun.

you stare. “what are you?”

“a gift to academia,” she says solemnly, placing a gummy pack in front of you like an offering. “also? you left me on read last night. this is my emotional retaliation.”

you bury your face in your hands. “ellie.”

“what?” she says, way too innocent. “i missed you. thought i’d study. sit beside you. maybe gaze longingly in your direction until i’m kicked out.”

one of the others sighs. “can we please get back to the enzyme chart?”

ellie leans closer, whispering in your ear. “what the hell’s an enzyme?”

you whisper back, “get out.”

she grins. “not until you smile.”

you try not to. you really do. but she’s too close and too stupid and too her.

then, just when you think she’s finally focused (she’s doodling in her notebook, not actually helping), you notice her slide a folded post-it note across the table under your elbow. pink. childish handwriting.

you glance around before opening it.

“u look too cute when ur stressed. let me make it worse 💘”

you nearly choke.

she doesn’t look at you—but her smirk is criminal.

you nudge her leg with yours, biting your cheek to keep from grinning. she bumps your knee right back. like it’s your secret language.

later, when the session ends and people start packing up, ellie stretches with a fake yawn. “well. learned so much. enzymes are crazy, huh?”

“get out, williams,” someone mutters.

but she’s looking only at you now, cocking her head.

“you walking home, or can i keep pretending i know where i’m going?”

you sigh, grabbing your bag. “fine.”

she fist-pumps the air like a dork. “yes. nailed it.”

and as you walk side by side through the stacks, she reaches out, linking her pinky with yours.

no words. just that.

and somehow, it’s louder than all the flirting in the world.

you’re not even trying to flirt. you’re just being nice. the guy beside you in class—some charming pre-med with too much hair gel and not enough self-awareness—is joking about the group project and trying really, really hard to make you laugh.

and yeah, fine, he’s a little funny.

but then—

“hey, babe.” that low voice from behind you, dipped in just enough sarcasm to sting.

you freeze. the guy pauses.

you already know who it is.

ellie. standing behind your desk like she’s just coincidentally passing through this exact building, at this exact hour, despite having literally zero business in the language department.

she leans down, resting her elbow on your desk, posture casual—but her eyes? not even a little relaxed. they're fixed on mr. med school like he owes her money.

“didn’t know you were in this class,” you say, trying not to sound nervous.

she shrugs. “i’m not. just remembered someone said this building has good vending machines.”

you squint. “ellie, no one said that.”

she grins. “okay. i lied. i just wanted to see you.”

your desk partner clears his throat awkwardly. “uh, hey. i’m kyle.”

ellie doesn’t even blink. “cool.”

you cough into your sleeve.

kyle tries again. “you, uh, also taking spanish?”

ellie hums. “nope.”

“…okay.”

you press your lips together.

ellie shifts her weight, hand dropping onto the back of your chair. fingers grazing your shoulder like an accident. “anyway,” she says, eyes still not leaving him, “just came to drop this off.”

she pulls a crumpled napkin from her jacket pocket and places it in front of you. it has your name scrawled across it in marker, followed by: “don’t let weird boys distract you. – management 💋”

you glare at her. “you are so embarrassing.”

she just smiles. “but i brought gum too.”

she tosses you a pack of your favorite flavor like it’s a peace treaty.

kyle shifts uncomfortably. “well, i should—uh, i gotta go… somewhere.”

ellie watches him walk off.

once he’s gone, she slides into the empty chair beside you.

“jesus, ellie.”

“what?” she says, all innocence.

you arch a brow. “that was not subtle.”

she rests her chin in her hand. “didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“you mean talked to me?”

“same thing.”

you sigh. “ellie, you can’t just scare off every guy who’s—”

“he wasn’t even funny,” she mumbles.

you blink. “what?”

“you laughed,” she says, pout visible now. “i always try to make you laugh. and you just—gave it to him.”

your heart trips over itself.

“you’re being ridiculous.”

she leans in, voice low, teasing. “tell me you didn’t just a little want me to get jealous.”

you go quiet.

she smirks, reading your silence like a novel she’s read too many times. “mmhm. thought so.”

you cross your arms. “you’re still insane.”

“and you still love it,” she says, voice light.

and annoyingly? she’s not wrong.

it starts with the rain. the sky cracking open in the middle of your walk across campus, your notes almost getting soaked, and ellie—ever the menace—showing up just in time with her hoodie already halfway off.

“jesus, you’re soaked,” she mutters, tugging it over your head before you can protest.

“ellie—”

“shut up. you look like a soggy cupcake.”

you don’t even know what that means, but the hoodie smells like her—clean and woodsy, with a hint of spearmint gum—and you melt into it like a traitor.

she leads you into the library, claiming one of the study couches tucked away in the back corner under the mezzanine. you’re supposed to be reviewing flashcards. you are not supposed to be curled up beside her, one leg slung over hers, sharing earbuds, as she opens a random poetry book from the shelf and starts reading dramatically into your ear.

“‘your hand—’” she begins, voice a little low, “‘—touched mine and i swore i could hear the ocean.’”

you pause your chewing on a twizzler. “…that’s not what it says.”

she grins. “i’m improvising.”

you flick her knee.

she pokes your thigh in retaliation. “come on. it’s romantic. we’re in a library. it’s raining. you’re in my hoodie. you wanna pretend this isn’t a date but baby—” she gestures around you with one hand—“this is literally a date.”

your ears burn.

you try to bury yourself deeper into the hoodie.

she flips the page and continues, this time reading the real words—but her voice softens. slows down. like she’s starting to feel what she’s saying.

“‘i never knew silence could taste like sweetness until you looked at me like that.’”

you don’t respond. you can’t. she’s not even looking at the book anymore.

she’s looking at you.

and suddenly the air feels thick and golden and fragile. like something’s about to shift.

you glance away. “you’re doing it again.”

“doing what?”

“looking at me like that.”

she tilts her head, fingers brushing your wrist. “like i’m about to kiss you?”

“…yeah.”

she hums, smile lazy. “you always say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you blink up at her, heart stupidly loud in your chest. “ellie.”

she leans in, close enough that her breath warms your cheek. “i’ll stop,” she whispers. “if you really want me to.”

you don’t say anything.

she waits.

and then—very slowly—she brushes a kiss to your temple.

it’s soft. barely there.

but you still forget how to breathe.

she pulls back, just a little, watching you with that stupid smirk that says yeah, you’re gone.

you are.

the room’s too loud.

music thudding through walls, lights flickering like lazy fireflies, bodies moving in rhythm—clumsy, drunk, careless.

and ellie? ellie’s standing against the far wall, nursing a drink she doesn’t even like, jaw tight, green eyes locked on one thing only.

you.

you, in that dress. the one that clings in all the wrong-right places. the one she knows for a fact you bought after sending her three mirror selfies like, “too much?”

she should’ve known then. you didn’t want advice. you wanted her to lose her mind.

and it’s working.

you’re laughing at something some girl said, your head tilted back, eyes lit, hips swaying to the beat as if you’re not absolutely destroying ellie’s entire nervous system.

the girl beside you leans in a little too close. touches your arm. says something against your ear.

ellie’s drink nearly shatters in her grip.

she pushes off the wall.

crosses the room like a storm dressed in black denim and sharp purpose.

you don’t even see her until her hand’s already sliding around your waist, fingers digging in with quiet, controlled force.

“ellie—” you start, blinking up at her.

“come here,” she says, voice low. tight.

you blink. “i am here.”

she pulls you closer, mouth brushing your ear. “no. i mean—outside. now.”

you don’t argue. not when her tone sounds like a promise.

you follow her out the back door and into the quiet. the cold hits you instantly. so does the heat in her eyes.

“you were staring,” you say, teasing.

ellie doesn’t even blink. “i was watching someone touch what’s mine.”

your breath catches. “babe…”

“you think i don’t notice?” she whispers, stepping into your space. “the way you smile at people. the way you wear that dress like it’s a fucking invitation.”

you bite your lip. “and if it is?”

she exhales hard, frustrated and turned on all at once.

“you wanna play that game with me?” she murmurs. “you wanna make me jealous, baby? you think i won’t remind you exactly who you belong to?”

your heart stutters. you’re already nodding.

ellie laughs softly, darkly, pressing her forehead to yours.

“that’s what i thought.”

she kisses you—hard. possessive. hot enough to erase the cold. like she’s been waiting all night to ruin your lipstick.

it’s quiet when you wake.

soft light peeking through the blinds. birds chirping somewhere outside. the smell of something vaguely burnt wafting in from the kitchen.

and then—ellie. muttering curses under her breath, clattering pans, the sound of a cupboard slamming.

you roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders, her hoodie drowning your frame.

she walks back in two seconds later, holding a plate that looks like… vaguely scrambled eggs? maybe?

“breakfast,” she declares proudly, even though one piece is definitely blackened beyond recognition.

you stare at the plate. “babe…”

“what? it’s edible.” she hands it to you and plops beside you on the bed, one leg slung over yours like it belongs there.

you blink at her through your lashes. “you nearly set the kitchen on fire for this?”

she shrugs, smug. “you like when i take care of you.”

you roll your eyes. “i like when you kiss me.”

she raises a brow. then takes the plate from your lap and sets it on the nightstand like it’s not the worst meal ever attempted.

“say less.”

she leans in, one hand on your thigh, the other brushing your jaw. she kisses you slow. sweet. like there’s no place she’d rather be.

you hum against her mouth. “you taste like toothpaste and smoke.”

she smirks. “you taste like you’re still mine.”

you roll your eyes again—but you’re smiling now, cheeks warm. “you’re sappy in the mornings.”

ellie leans back to look at you, really look at you.

hair messy. hoodie swallowed around your frame. bare legs tangled in the sheets. eyes soft. skin still sleep-warm.

“yeah,” she whispers. “can you blame me?”

you blink. she’s got that look again—the one she saves for when she thinks you’re not noticing. the one that says i’d do anything for you. and you realize—this is her favorite part of the day. not the kissing. not the eggs. just this. you. her. here.

you cup her cheek gently. “stay. just a little longer.”

she’s already pulling you back into her arms. “i wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

you’re in the student lounge when it happens. mind your business. drink your smoothie. scroll through your notes.

it’s chill. peaceful. until you hear your name—followed by a laugh that doesn’t sound nice.

you glance up.

two girls at the vending machine. one of them’s eyeing your outfit, whispering to the other, not very quietly.

“she always dresses like that? i mean, if i wanted attention that bad, i’d just hold up a damn sign.”

the other one giggles. “right? desperate behavior.”

you freeze. it’s not the first time. you’re used to this. people talk. you try to ignore it.

but today? today ellie’s here.

she’s rounding the corner before you can even stop her, hands shoved deep in her jacket pockets, jaw locked.

she doesn’t raise her voice. she doesn’t need to.

“what the fuck did you just say?”

the two girls look up—startled.

ellie’s standing a few feet away, eyes sharp as knives, muscles tense like a fuse about to blow. she doesn’t move closer. but the danger in her stillness is louder than any scream.

one girl stammers. “it—wasn’t about you—”

“no shit,” ellie snaps. “it was about her.”

you shift in your seat, trying to get her attention, to pull her back— but she’s locked in.

“i swear to god,” ellie says slowly, voice dropping like a storm, “if i hear either of you talk about her again, we’re gonna have a very different conversation. one that doesn’t end with you walking away.”

silence.

she doesn’t wait for a response.

just turns on her heel and walks straight back to you, fire still burning under her skin.

you’re wide-eyed. “ellie—”

“she’s lucky i didn’t slam her head into the vending machine.”

you almost laugh. “baby.”

“no one gets to talk about you like that.” her hand finds your knee, grounding herself. “you hear me? no one.”

you nod. your heart’s pounding, but not from fear. from her. her loyalty. her fire. the way she’d go full scorched earth just to protect you.

you lean in, brushing your lips to her temple. “you’re insane.”

she grins, all teeth and tension. “only for you, baby.”

you’re mid-chaos.

cardboard boxes everywhere. clothes half-folded, mugs still wrapped in newspaper, your cat hiding in the bathtub because the world is too much today.

ellie’s in your living room, sleeves rolled up, flannel loose around her waist, helping you move into your new place like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“this box says ‘misc,’” she calls out, already cutting it open.

“yeah, don’t bother,” you shout from the bathroom. “it’s just old junk i haven’t sorted.”

but ellie doesn’t listen. of course she doesn’t.

she peels the top open and freezes.

inside: a shoebox. faded. beat up. taped shut.

written on top in your messy scrawl: “do not open (or do, i guess—if you’re her)”

ellie frowns, intrigued. her heart starts drumming a little faster.

she pulls off the tape. lifts the lid.

inside: letters. dozens. folded-up pages, old notebook paper, ticket stubs, even little sticky notes. all of them addressed: to her.

she picks up the top one and opens it carefully.

"she smiled at me today. like really smiled. i think my lungs forgot how to work."

she reads another.

"if she ever kisses me, i’m gonna melt. i just know it. like actually disintegrate. she has no idea what she does to me."

and another.

"i think i’ve been in love with her since the first time she called me ‘sweetheart.’ i couldn’t sleep that night. i kept replaying it like a psycho. god, i’m so far gone."

ellie stares at the paper. it’s shaking in her hands.

she hears your footsteps behind her and turns, blinking fast.

you stop in the doorway, eyes going wide.

“oh—shit.” you freeze. “ellie, i—”

“are these about me?” she asks, voice rough.

you look down, embarrassed. “i—i wrote them before we got together. i didn’t think you’d ever—”

“they’re so about me,” she cuts in, stunned. “holy shit. you—you loved me.”

you nod, barely breathing.

her face softens like it’s breaking.

“you felt it first,” she whispers, stepping closer. “you were in love with me this whole time. and i didn’t even know.”

you look up at her slowly. “i didn’t want to ruin anything.”

she stares at you like you hung the moon. like you’re her whole timeline. she drops the letter, cups your cheeks, and kisses you like it’s day one all over again.

like she’s catching up to everything you already knew.

you’re lying on the roof of her truck, tucked in a blanket you both dragged up from the cabin. it smells like her. woodsmoke, pine, lavender from that shampoo she swears isn’t hers (it totally is).

above: a billion stars. below: her heartbeat, frantic and warm beneath your cheek.

ellie’s not talking much tonight. just stroking your back, thumb brushing slow circles like she needs to feel you breathing.

you shift slightly. look up at her.

“you good?”

she blinks. tries to smile. “yeah. yeah, just—thinkin’.”

you wait.

then you hear her inhale. deep. like she’s about to dive.

“i was gonna wait,” she says quietly. “for, like, a better time. or a cooler way to say it. i was gonna bring you somewhere fancy, maybe even try not to sweat through my damn flannel—”

“ellie—”

“—but i can’t. i can’t wait anymore.”

you sit up slowly.

her hands are trembling. her mouth is trying to form words that keep getting tangled in emotion.

“i need you to know,” she says, voice cracking slightly. “i’ve never felt like this. not for anyone. not like this. you—you scare me, honestly.”

you blink. “what?”

“you make me wanna try. like, really try. be someone better. be someone who remembers to buy oat milk because you like it even though i don’t. be someone who doesn’t shut down when things get hard because you deserve more than that.”

you just stare at her.

“i love you,” she finally says. “and not just like, hey, you’re cute, let’s make out. i mean like—sick in the head about you. want you in every version of my future. want your toothbrush next to mine. want to wake up to your stupid morning breath and make you pancakes that i’ll burn and still try to flip anyway. i want all of it. with you.”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until she’s brushing tears from your cheek.

“i want forever with you,” she whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “even if it’s messy. even if i screw it up a thousand times before i get it right.”

you kiss her like you’ve waited your whole life for this moment.

because you have.

and when you pull back, breathless, all you say is: “let’s make forever messy. together.”

she laughs, eyes glistening.

“god,” she groans, dragging you back into her arms. “you’re so fucking perfect it hurts.”

and under the stars—your stars—she kisses you again.

and again. and again.

[itoshiierae]

HIII IM BACK I hope you’re doing really well because you definitely deserve it and more! I was thinking about Rin x reader but like as academic rivals into lovers would be super cute!! I know it sounds super cliché but If you ever have time to maybe write something for this it would be so cute!! Thank you smm and have a great day 😚😚

- (ur biggest fan) 🪷

THIS WASN’T PART OF THE SYLLABUS ༄°ˎˊ˗⋆✩📝

ᡣ𐭩 ft: rin itoshi x f!reader ( academic rivals to lovers )

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hiii there 🪷 anon!!! i really hope you’ve been well too 🥹🩷 and omg academic rivals to lovers is literally peak delicious tension HAHAH like why are we solving math problems while secretly falling in love!!??? anywayyy, i’m sorry this took me awhile but i hope you enjoy this mini one-shot <33

ᡣ𐭩 cw: “enemies”-to-lovers, library tension, slow burn confession, high-school setting, first kiss, hand holding (yes it’s that intense), soft!rin but still sharp, mutual pining, competitive idiots in love, subtle angst, emotional tension thick enough to choke on, light banter

You've never hated anyone the way you hate Rin Itoshi.

Not in any real, visceral way, of course. Just in the way that makes your blood boil every time his name appears one line above yours on the rankings board. Just in the way that has you chewing on your pen in frustration when he hands in his paper before you again with that same unreadable expression, like he's already calculated your defeat before you even sat down. Just in the way that makes you scan every room for him, even when you swear you're not thinking about him.

And he? He's worse.

Because he never gloats. Never smirks. He just watches you with that same cold, heavy gaze that sees straight through you. The way you try to outpace him. The glances you think are subtle. And no matter how hard you deny it, he’s already pieced it together: he’s the one you refuse to fall behind for.

But tonight isn't about winning. It's the first time he's ever asked to study together. You only said yes to prove to him that you could be civil — that you weren't obsessed with him, especially not in the way everyone teased you for.

You simply just wanted to prove to everyone that you were capable of coexisting with Rin Itoshi; without combusting.

And now? It's past 9pm. The library's nearly empty. The overhead lights are dimmer than usual, buzzing faintly like they're tired too. Your elbows rest against the cool tabletop, textbooks spread out between you, notes scrawled in too many different colours.

"You're making that face again," he says, not even looking up.

Your head snaps toward him.

"…What face?"

He turns a page in his notebook, still expressionless. "The one you make when you're about to cry because I finished question eight before you."

You let out a quiet scoff — more embarrassed than annoyed, and shove his arm. "…. I am not."

He finally looks at you. And for the first time, his expression changes — the corners of his mouth twitch into something gentler, something real. It isn’t a smirk or a mockery, it’s something softer than you know what to do with.

You immediately freeze, because he’s never looked at you like this — not as a rival, not as competition to outscore, but as someone he’s been trying not to want, but failing miserably.

“By the way, Rin…. I’ll be honest, I actually used to hate you,” you blurt out, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

He leans back in his chair, legs stretching out beneath the table until his ankle bumps against yours and instead of pulling away, he leaves it there like he wants you to feel it.

“I never…,” he says.

There’s a pause before you look up, gaze cautious — wary, but laced with curiosity, like you’re bracing for the weight of whatever he’s about to say.

“….I never once hated you,” he continues, slower now. “You just made me care about you… And I don’t know why but that genuinely pisses me off…”

You don’t know if the ache blooming in your chest is from fear, or relief, or maybe both. Because the way he’s looking at you right now… it isn’t like you’re a name he needs to outrun anymore, but someone he’s finally willing to fall behind for. And then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand slides forward, fingers ghosting over yours like a vow neither of you are ready to say aloud.

“… W-wait… Rin,” you whisper, throat tight.

He squeezes your hand once like he’s grounding himself in the moment. Almost as if he needs you to feel it, to understand that this isn’t a game. It’s him choosing softness in a world he rarely allows it. It’s quiet but it says everything he won’t yet put into words and then —

“Y’know… you still make me want to win,” he says, voice low and steady. “But it’s not about topping a scoreboard anymore, not when all I really want is you…”

His thumb grazes the back of your hand; a simple touch, yet it sends a quiet jolt down your spine. His eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, have softened at the edges, like they’re letting you in for the first time.

“I want you,” he says again, quieter this time.

And somehow — despite the rivalry, the history, the weeks of tension drawn tight between glances, you realize you might want him too. Not in the fleeting, competitive way you once thought. Not as a challenge to conquer or a name to outrun. But in this very moment, with your fingers brushing against his and his words still clinging to the air like something sacred, you feel it:

The quiet truth that maybe, just maybe, you’ve both been holding back the same feelings all along.

The weight of it settles slowly. The unspoken meaning in his eyes, the soft confession still clinging to the air. It’s so unlike him, so startlingly out of character, that you don’t know what to do with it. You glance down at your joined hands, barely intertwined, and you could swear your pulse is louder than the ticking clock overhead.

“…Why now?” you whisper, voice soft, afraid to shatter the moment.

Rin swallows, his jaw tightening like he’s holding back something he doesn’t know how to name. And then, still holding your hand like it’s the only thing tethering him to this moment — he leans in, slow and deliberate, each inch a silent question, each breath asking if he’s allowed to get closer.

But you don’t move, not even when your pulse is sprinting beneath your skin, not even when your lips are only inches away from his, almost as if you’ve already decided to let him in. He pauses, just for a moment, eyes searching yours for any flicker of doubt. But when he finds none, he tilts his head and immediately closes the distance between you without hesitation.

For a second, it barely felt real — his lips on yours, your first kiss, and somehow, it was with him. This kiss is quiet — like a truth neither of you have dared to speak aloud. It unfolds slowly, tentative at first, then deeper, steadier as if Rin is tracing a moment he’s already replayed in his mind a hundred times. He kisses you like he’s slowly memorizing it piece by piece: the hitch in your breath, the flutter of your lashes, the way your fingers tremble when his thumb brushes gently along your jaw. It’s deliberate, unhurried — not rushed or chaotic. Infact there’s no need to because everything he’s ever needed is right here.

This isn’t a kiss meant to prove anything, this is a confession sealed between two people who’ve been circling the truth for far too long.

And when you finally pull back just enough to catch your breath — he leans in, resting his forehead gently against yours. His eyes don’t leave you and his voice is low, barely audible between the quiet thrum of your pulse and the silence around you.

“You still make me want to win,” he murmurs. “But this time… I’d rather win you instead.”

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[savannahsdeath]

hi i love your writing SO MUCH and idk if i requested this already but… do you think we can get a brothers best friend ellie?? readers brother DOES NOT want them together but they end up fucking when he’s asleep/not home. or reader goes to ellies house and eats her out while shes on call with reader’s brother?? either one is fine i would just love to see you write it

i think you requested that but i made it likee the brother didnt care so heres a second one🤭ill post the first one too tho!!

BBF!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, almost getting caught

writers note: im sorry its so short whateva💔

You couldn't decide whether you like it or not.

Well, of course you did. Ellie never failed to make you feel good, her strap hitting all the right places while her hands caressed your thighs. She was rough, but not too rough. Degrading, but also praising. Basically, she was all you could ever ask for and more. What was there to hate?

But at some point, there was this little voice in your head telling you you're pathetic. Pathetic for liking this, agreeing to this and... just admiring her overall.

Because, jesus, 'she's my brother's friend. Best friend. What am I going to tell him?'

You, as the little sister, always let him insult you. Your opinion didn't matter, you gave up on trying to be important long time ago. You didn't hate him, he wasn't that bad. It was just sibling love language. He just couldn't be nice. If he knew about you and Ellie...

You were good at hiding it, though. When you first met her, you didn't believe she's really friends with your brother. Not to be mean, but you didn't thought he'll get along with someone who seems so... perfect.

'She probably has a shitty personality.'

That's how you explained their friendship. And you were terribly wrong.

After she visited your house once, she kept coming almost every day. At this point, you got used to that.

Oh, well, not exactly... There was some awkward situations, like when you exited the bathroom in only a towel wrapped around your bare skin and you saw her leaning against the handrail in the hallway. She only ruffled your hair and laughed at your embarrassment, seeing you blush and holding onto the fabric like your life depended on it. Maybe it did, actually?

It wasn't long after that before you began to wonder -'She can't be friends with my brother... can she?'- You started to notice more things - her kindness towards you, a tender touch here and there, and the way she looked at you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So what if she was his best friend? Would he really mind?

But what if he did? What if he found out?

Suddenly that little voice in your head was screaming louder than ever, and that feeling of shame and guilt crept up on you again.

But no matter how much of the guilt you felt, and despite the small voice in your head telling you you're pathetic, it felt right. You felt accepted. Accepted by someone who was perfect in every way. The thought of telling your brother filled you with dread, but it seemed so far away. You could figure out that little problem later, right? Just for now, you could feel a rush of emotions - mostly guilt, but also a rush of lust that made you want more.

More and more.

And she gave you more.

A quiet -'fuck'- escaped her lips as she saw your cunt throbbing against her strap. Her hands continued firmly holding you down as you didn't even bother to stay quiet. You felt so good... and so ashamed... You wanted it to stop but at the same time, you knew you'd beg for more if she would even simply slow down.

It was really your own fault.

This was the first time in ages you were left home alone, so you immediately invited Ellie over. First time you won't have to bury your face in the pillows. First time she won't have to shush you. First time you could actually do everything.

You were fighting your own thoughts, not knowing which one are the bad ones. You had no idea if you're doing the right thing. And you most definitely weren't but you were too fucked up to realize that.

Ellie chuckled, hearing your not-muffled this time sounds. "Were you always this loud? Jesus, how did we manage to keep this a secret for so long?"

The truth is, she wasn't silent herself. Fine, she wasn't a whining mess, unlike you, but still - the little 'fuck's and praises escaping her mouth weren't too quiet.

You continued squirming and whimpering about how big she is and how much it hurts, hoping it'll magically change, though you didn't really wanted it to. Or maybe you did? You weren't sure. Your mind continued the fight wether it's good or pathetic, none of the sides prevailing.

She clicked her tongue in disappointment, but her smirk told you how proud she really is. "I know, I know, so stop moving so fucking much." She said.

Her raspy, tired voice was enough to make you squirm again. You weren't used to hear it in these circumstances before, since it's obviously the first time she could speak loudly and clearly, without worrying about your brother.

"I said something, doll." Her grip on your hips hardened, almost aggressively pinning you to bed.

You heard the ring hanging near the door, meaning someone opened them. Just by footsteps you could tell it was your brother.

"Should I stop?" She asked with mock-concern and interest. You realized your answer won't change anything - maybe just the intensity of her moves, so you didn't waste your energy answering. That was a sign of your obedience and helplessness Ellie waited for. "Good girl."

She rolled you on your stomach and tangled her fingers in your hair, pressing your head into the pillow. She shoved it down with every thrust - every hit of your climax - to stop you from moaning. And of course it didn't work completely, but they faded enough to be inaudible outside the room.

She was intentionally going faster and faster. She loved playing with you, feeling the thrill of it, even though you didn't find it so amusing. You digged your nails into the tattoo on her forearm, hoping to slow her down.

"Ya know what will happen if he hears?" She didn't seem to care that your fingers were literally drawing blood from her body. "You'll handle it. Unless you want him to find out?" She whispered.

You immediately shook your head, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut.

Then, your moment of focus broke as you heard knocking, on the door to your room this time.

"I'm back!" Your brother announced.

You asked him to tell you whenever he goes out or cames back, mostly so you knew if Ellie's free, since he only goes out with her. Today was the first time he went outside on his own and the poor guy had no idea she found a reason to visit your house anyway, just like he had no idea she did so even when he was home, in his room, right above yours.

The lack of response surprised him, so he knocked once more before shouting confused -'You there?'

Ellie looked down at you, daring you to answer, mouthing silent 'go on' in the most taunting voice she could.

"Yes! That's good!" Your voice was shaky and you knew he will notice.

He wasn't really caring, just curious, so he had to know everything. His first sentence sounded cute, like he really cared, but you figured out he's making fun of you as soon as you heard the other questions. "Are you crying? What, you weren't invited to some lame party? Or a boy you know for a week broke up with you?"

And what were you supposed to say? -'No, your best friend is fucking me for... probably more than an hour now, and her dick is probably bigger than yours, so I can't control my tears'

"Yeah, something lik- Oh, fuck off!" You screamed back, succeeding to pretend you're really hurt because of one of the pathetic things he accused you for.

He laughed. "Mhm- Whatever!"

The footsteps climbed up stairs and got silent. Ellie bit her bottom lip, holding back a chuckle.

"Does he really think of you so low?" Her hips slowed down again, but became more precise. "You did good, don't worry. It'll be over soon."

[callistodisco]

Here I'll throw ya one. On another blog, they were chatting about Raditz with a crush, and now it's all I can think about. In most fics I've read he boinks Reader/Whoever pretty fast (and those fics are amazing and I love every bit of it), but I have been super curious about what it'd look like for him to slowly open up to and get a crush. How he'd act and all that.

Would he be all tsundere and deny it? Would he try and woo us (and probably fail miserably)?

i literally love this?? brainrotting over it now Raditz my beloved <3 im gonna bsffr, this was a self-indulgent piece

Request Chungus ML Dragon Ball ML Raditz x f!reader Genres: Headcanons|Fluff|Romantic

Raditz With A Crush

With a human crush:

so first of all- you're human, he's saiyan, and he sees a problem with this (even before the crush)

so i read on the saiyan wiki that saiyan men LOVE strong women, so you're very feisty and will absolutely butt heads with him, no questions asked

at first he's annoyed like "the AUDACITY of this human to oppose me???"

but then it kinda becomes a thing between yall and he's like "man the audacity lol" and he finds it kinda hot

more time passes and yall spend more time together before it passes the territory of "hey, friends don't do that!" and like everyone points it out (yes he survived the piccolo beam :3 or the dragon balls brought him back idk you choose)

but everyone starts to point out the staring and how he oddly is nicer to you🤨hmmmmm

at first for a few months he's like "me? with a human? grossss"

but then Goku and Vegeta are like "humans are kinda goated, we literally have kids with them" so Raditz does some self reflecting

he realizes that he'd totally get with you if you WERE a saiyan so maybe the human barrier is kinda dumb

after this conclusion he makes it his mission to make you fall madly in love with him

every fic i've read of this man portrays him as a frat boy or sex god, and while i LOVE that for him, i'm a firm believer he's an awkward loser when it comes to romance

he flirts with you but in the saiyan way and there are lots of mixed signals

"fight me!" "no?? hEY-" he's already trying to attack you :/

he eventually learns humans are "lame" and do "boring" things for romance, like movie dates or eating out (cringe, right?)

"h-hey human! wanna go to that p-place you keep talking about?" you're thinking for minute because?? THE Raditz stuttered? crazy

but he takes it wrong and assumes you don't want to, so it's a 5min argument convincing him to go💀

similar scenarios happen for a few more months and it literally eats him alive how slow this is moving, it's killing you too dw

after like a year of human dates he starts ranting because you point out that he seemed kinda tense lately

"well i don't know what i'm doing half the time on this planet, i have to live with being the weakest of my race, i can barely stand to be next to you without burning alive-" he kept ranting but your mind blanked after you heard that

with a smile you began to poke him "you likeee me" the HUMILIATION on this saiyans face "you like likeee me"

not how he hoped it'd go, but you two are very happy together :3

With a saiyan crush:

pretty sure it was in canon lore the only remaining saiyans were male, so um, you're the only surviving female, yippee?

you have many suitors to choose from, but uh, most weren't very appealing

and tbh, Vegeta was never an option, you were a peasant or whatever, so he was grossed out🤮couldn't properly carry out the royal bloodline i guess

because Raditz and you were both weak by saiyan standards, you were paired together often, strength in numbers, right?

this crush developed much faster purely because you bonded over:

similar experiences in society and on the battlefield

near death experiences bring people closer than you think

this doesnt mean he acted faster or accepted it any quicker

he was in denial at first because "she's just a friend!" hmmm ok bud

you two started getting split from each other and working with different partners which is what left him to fully realize his crush

this was mostly due to his jealousy of you spending a lot of time with someone other than him, and that he yearned for your presence often while gone

after figuring out "oh! i like her" instead of telling you, he hid it

not because he was scared no, but because he wasn't prepared for the emotional damage when one of you died and left the other to weather frieza's tyranny alone. he didn't want to be without you or leave you alone in this place

it was after he went to earth and nearly died to Kakarot and Piccolo he was like "erm, i'm gonna say something"

after making it back barely alive he eventually recovered and told you how he felt

his story of how strong earths warriors are made you question staying with the frieza force until it was safe to leave

once Vegeta and Nappa decided to invade earth, you and Raditz tagged along secretly and started to live happy lives as the weirdos next door :3

idk if i'll ever create headcanons as lengthy as these ever again

btw i have 2 Raditz fics in the works tee hee

[ganondoodle]

been trying to do some pixel art bc after putting another 60+ hours into stardew valley the want to make a stardew like game but *my* way is strong again ... but i keep getting hung up on thinking about game mechanics (screenshot at the bottom .. sorry for makign this so long again ..)

at some point i thought the whole minecraft aspect is probably impossible to add into a 2d pixel game and im better off to cut that idea out of my head and instead make a dedicated area in which you can build stuff more costumizable and make the rest a more static thing id built so the worlds have more character and theres less problems with NPC pathing (since i dont want you to be able to escape Eadryas wrath if you overstay your welcome by building yourself into a circle or collision boxes .... though they would destroy anything in their path to you either way.. still)

but then i still want you to be able to change the ground in your little area (or maybe multiple ... idk im still conflicted bc i like the idea of finding a place and building your lil hut there ... unless i make it so you can build a hut anywhere but change the ground tiles only in certain areas ... ) and build little ponds and stuff ... so im back to the minecraft in 2d problem

i keep getting into these thinking spirals bc i dont want to draw all those sprites if im gonna scrap it all again anyway

the main point with this little ...... well, lets call it fantasy bc im not confident this 'project' will fare any better than any of my other projects (im a never finished a single project and keeps being haunted by it kind of guy and i hate it)

- is that i want a 2d game somewhat similar to stardew but set in my original story world and focused on the environment and nature, not on earning money, an intricate weather system and no time limit on your day, the twist being you are an ex-demon hunter and are on probation to prove you really abandoned the cause, given shelter and a place to stay in the demon world within the protective bubbles around gates into the human realm (bc humans cannot live in the normal environment of the demon world- this is an already long established thing but works extremely well to limit the space you are able to go in a game without making the world feel tiny plus allows me to give you several different environment designs bc those are gates and bubbles in different parts of the demon world) your task being to help clean up the poisoned land the celestials had caused and repopulating these parts with plants etc. ... there is a tracker that lets you know how well or bad it is doing and if you only destroy instead of restore (like chopping down all trees without planting new ones) you will be given warnings until Eadrya shows up and kills you since you are clearly still working to destroy their lands after all

i still really like this idea but im really doubtful it will go anywhere since i am so slow, need to learn at least two complicated new things (coding, music making) and already have so many things i want to do but never really .. do, the task is just too daunting and it keeps me from just having fun drawing pixel art bc i cant stop (over)thinking about mechanics

(see this is what i mean my brain just cant stop, it just keeps going and it keeps making me spiral into these thinking loops that prevent me from actually doing anything )

this is the same file i have been randomly doodling sprites on since april (by far not the only one, but the current one of multiple sprite tests i keep updating or changing)

(i appreciate feedback or thoughts on this alot, its a little fantasy that i keep comign back to, all my attempts to throw it out of my head in hopes of clearing up some space have failed no matter how little hope i have of making it a reality ..)

[m4ple9x0x]

Sᵒᵘʳ Cʰᵉʳʳʸ

-Chapter IV-

Hyunin x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT MDNI !! a lot of swearing, lmk if I forgot anything.

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, smut, stalker!Hyunjin, yandere!Hyunjin, slow burn.

a/n: this chapter is shorter, i hope y'all will enjoy it anyway! if u guyz have any feedback or opinions lmk, im open to it n also to some constructive criticism, also if u wanna get added to the taglist lmk!! <3 maple out~

dividers by: @cafekitsune <3

Previous chapter

These past few days have been pretty much quiet. Nothing really happening in your life allowing the boredom to settle in, the free time that you had on your hands made you start pondering over the invitation that Joanna sent you. The party was in two days. It was obviously a good thing, you could get out there, reignite your spark that has been buried long time ago, but there was no doubt, you have to admit that you’re scared. Maybe it sounds dumb, but what if you actually get to be happy again, create new friendships and then something happens and it will destroy everything? Just like back in high school, you’re afraid of having to start all over again, only to end up all alone.

At least now you got used to being alone, but making friends again, getting attached to them, only to see them walk away… only to let them be snatched far away from you? That’s truly unfair, and that’s what’s scaring you the most. The possibility of having a strong bond with someone again and allowing that person to see you at your lowest, to see your vulnerable side, and after that becoming strangers is there, and you don’t want to have to go through that heartbreak again. But being alone for the rest of your life isn’t an option either.

*Gosh why is life so complicated?*

The fact that the acting agency didn’t contact you regarding the casting wasn’t helping either, making you overthink every single detail that maybe ruined your chances of getting accepted. You’ve been laying in your bed for hours creating infinite scenarios and possible outcomes in your head, your anxiety worsening with every unanswered question floating through your brain. *What if the tone of my voice wasn’t suitable for that line? What if I didn’t gesticulate enough? What if… what if… what if*. All these possible mistakes that maybe in that moment you didn’t even notice or thought of as mistakes were multiplying and creating a big black hole that was slowly starting to suck you in and make you vanish from the real world.

You hated all this waiting. *I got in my head again...fuck...what should I do, what if I will fail over and over again?*, you started crying. The loneliness was eating you alive. You grabbed your phone, wiping the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, you went on instagram entering the conversation with Joanna, the last message was about her coworker coming to the party too. The solution to your loneliness problem was right in front of you, you just had to get out there, to go to the party, you needed this, you were the one capable of changing something, it was your life and you were the only one with the power of getting it back.

you: hei, so i’ve been thinking about it and i decided i wanna come to the party. 18:50

You close your phone, *This was the right decision...right?*. You get up from the bed and walk towards the kitchen deciding to make a salad. You start cutting the vegetables and seasoning everything, you check your phone and notice a message from Stacey.

stace💋: girl call me when you see this. 19:26

You sit at the table and start eating, your phone dialing Stacey.

-Finally! We haven’t been talking these days, what’s happening with you Y/N? Stacey’s voice was full of concern.

-I don’t know, been overthinking and stuff… You say, taking a mouthful of salad.

-Stop trying to brush things off, why haven’t you called me that night after Josh showed up?

-I was just tired, wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it.

-I see… are you ok? Chan told me he talked with you that day.

-Right now I’m better, I felt kinda off earlier…

-Talk with me sweetie.

-Well besides that day with Josh, the agency didn’t contact me yet, it’s been on my mind.

-Hey I’m sure they liked you, these things take time, they probably have a lot of people on the line you know, don’t worry about it that much, I’m sure they are gonna contact you soon. Stacey’s voice was soft as she reassured you.

-I guess… also I didn’t get to tell you but there was this girl at the cafe, she was working there and she threw Josh out, she was very nice with me and now we kinda are friends, her name is Joanna.

-That’s so nice Y/N!!

-Yeah, and she invited me to a party on Valentines Day, her coworker will be there too.

-I hope you’re going!!

-Yeah, I decided to go, what could go wrong right?

-Exactly! I’m so proud of you babe, you’re finally getting out there again, that’s good for you!

-Thank you Stace, how have you been?

-Well guess what arrived today? Excitement was now noticeable in your friend’s tone.

-What?

-A bottle of wine, I wonder who could’ve sent me such a thing… You and your friend start laughing.

-Hmm… I wonder who too.

-Y/N you know I love this! Thank you so much babee!

-I also love this too, thank you Y/Nnnie! You hear Chan screaming in the background.

-No need to thank me, you guys send me gifts all the time.

-Doesn’t matter!

-So I guess since you’re so happy the project went well?

-OH YES, the teacher loved it!

-Good job Stace!

-Thank you babe, I can’t wait to drink the wine.

-I wish we could celebrate together…

-Me too, but hey, let’s not be sad, you gotta keep the good vibe for the party, okay?

-Yeah, yeah.

You keep talking with Stacey and Chan on the phone until it gets late, the couple going to sleep. You get back in bed and turn the TV on to watch a movie, you weren’t really feeling like watching something horror so you looked up a romance instead, this was kinda out of character for you, but you were in a good mood so you needed to keep it that way, as Stacey said.

Some time passes and you’re half an hour into the movie, you pay attention to the main characters that are starting to have sex, and then it hits you. The dream. *Fuck I completely forgot about that…*, you start having flashbacks of the man’s face, of the way in which he was kissing you, of his touches, his tongue on your skin, his fingers digging into your thighs as he was eating you out, his pleading glassy eyes staring up at you, staring into your eyes as if he was trying to reach your soul, his moans, his voice. It’s like you’re in a trance as you close your eyes and slowly start to caress your own skin, moving your hand lower… lower...lower until your fingers find their way under the waistband of your sweatpants, sliding over your hot and wet folds, you start moaning softly images of him in your mind.

*I wish he would be the one doing this to me*, you stop and open your eyes getting your hand out of your pants.

-What the fuck was that… this is so wrong, he’s literally a stranger that I bumped into twice...I don’t even know his name.

You brush this off turning the TV off deciding to go to sleep.

Only problem is...you can’t. You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling in the darkness of your room, he’s still in your mind, you can’t stop thinking about him, you touch your face and feel your cheeks being very hot. *Maybe if I drink some tea I’ll be able to fall asleep easier*, you think and get up from the bed, opening your phone you see a message from Joanna.

@Joa_47: im so happy you’re coming, my coworker said that he’d like to meet you, he told me to tell you to go tomorrow to the cafe if you’re free. 23:56 you: tell him i ll be there :) 00:00

Next chapter

taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @hwangjoanna

[madschiavelique]

GOD I AM SO FERAL FOR SUB!READER W/ MIGUEL AND PETER (im so sorry for the all caps its how I show my enthusiasm 😭😭) but I rlly wanna see the yandere hcs ,,

SO AM I BESTIE SO AM I

headcanon : yandere!miguel o'hara x reader x yandere!peter b parker content warnings : yandere content, mention of violence (miguel and peter killing torturing and killing someone), reader being injured, peter and miguel are really manipulative in this, genderneutral!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 1,4k tag list : @fandom-ash

firstly, they'd had their eye on you for some time now

you were a much-loved spider, and everywhere you went people were smiling and complimenting you, not so much for what you did as a spider, but because you had such a delightful personality

you'd only recently made your debut with the Spider Society, and Peter and Miguel in turn seemed to slowly fall under your spell

peter came to see you regularly to check up on you, and Miguel called you more often to get more details about your reports

then one day Miguel started keeping a tab open on the side of his business activities with your locations backed up by surveillance cameras

obtaining a watch for you had turned out to be the quickest watch delegation in Spider Socety's history

the attraction they felt for you was becoming far too great to ignore, even for the workaholic Miguel, who thinks of nothing else but the maintenance and balance of the universe

peter had been following you around the society from higher up, and one day he noticed something that he immediately reported to Miguel: you were starting to see another spider on a regular basis.

he was such a lesser guy than Miguel and Peter that they wondered how you could have even crossed his path

you started greeting him every day, laughing with him, joking around, and they watched from afar

well, as long as you were just friends, there shouldn't be any problem, right?

but just as Peter was coming to eat with you in the cafeteria, the notorious undesirable individual showed up and sat down next to you.

too close, Peter thought. How could you smile at him, laugh at his jokes?

and what he saw made his jaw clench: the spider's hand caressed your cheek

how could he breathe the same air as you?

miguel had obviously seen the whole scene from the security screens, and he'd nearly smashed one of the desks

the next day, when you ventured to the cafeteria as usual, you didn't find your spider in your usual spot

strange, he never failed to find you here, but instead you found Miguel and Peter, coming to sit with them.

when you asked them if they'd seen him, they replied that he had some business in his own reality that required him to stay away from the Society for a while

of course, they would never tell you how slow and painful his death had been

as the months passed, you inevitably grew closer to Miguel and Peter. Since they were gradually pushing every one of your friends and acquaintances away from you, they were the only ones left.

you visited them more frequently, sometimes just keeping them company while they took care of reports.

you had become an inseparable trio, and not a day went by when you weren't with them.

in fact, they started gaining new habits such like showering you with gifts

everything they do to make sure you're comfortable enough to never ever think of leaving them is pretty amazing

(as if you had a choice to leave anyway)

saw a new cute little top that you like? already yours

it was almost uncanny how much they observed the details in your behavior

sometimes you'd simply walk past something, your gaze lingering on it for a few seconds longer than you'd normally wear it out, and the same day you'd find yourself with it in your hands

because let's be honest, they're extremely rich.

The technological advances Miguel had brought to the entire dimension had made him rich for the rest of his life and beyond, so he had no worries about covering you in anything you wanted.

and as for Peter, you weren't sure how he managed it, but what you were sure of was that he, too, had no financial worries

they were becoming a little more tactile too

peter took your hand in his, caressing your back and cheek gently, while Miguel had got into the habit of having you sit against him while he worked

your whole day consisted of keeping them company, but you had duties as a citizen of the Society

however, since they ran the Society, they could change the rules just for you right ?

it had started slowly, with them preventing you from going on missions and putting other spiders on the job

but your spider instincts soon kicked in, and you insisted on going on the mission

so they had a silent agreement that their eyes exchanged and managed to find an anomaly that was far too tough, sending you out in its dimension, alone, supervising you with the security screens

the anomaly was horrible, far too fast for you, far too powerful, far too cruel. It wounded you with terrible ease, while you struggled to even scratch it.

you found yourself in a corner, at the mercy of the anomaly, and of course, absolute fear gripped you along with the panic of not getting out of there

you screamed repeatedly for them to come and get you, as the anomaly was closing in fast, but they needed you to understand. you were completely weakened and scared you'd never be able to finish this fight, tears streaming down your cheeks as you called out to them, and they finally arrived.

they quickly took care of the anomaly, then came back to you, sobbing and shaking in the corner. they took you in their arms, cuddling you gently, whispering "now you see why we don't want to send you on a mission? it's far too dangerous, do you understand?"

you had to go through a painful little lesson to realize how much you needed them, didn't you?

they took you back to the infirmary, where they remained at your bedside until your recovery was complete

since then, you've never been on a mission again

you were a little bit too traumatized by the experience, and they'd managed to make sure that they were the only people you could turn to in case of trouble

so they offered to let you live in their apartment so they could be ready to provide for your every need, which you accepted. and on the very day of the offer, you moved in with them - they'd already had a room ready for you about a month before

it wasn't long before the three of you were growing closer together - which is, of course, somewhat inevitable when three people live together

the looks Miguel and Peter sometimes shared when they saw you were full of pride and mischief

they frequently exchanged them. when you'd come out of the shower for instance, when they'd deliberately remove your clothes from the bathroom while you were showering to see you dressed only with a towel to look for clothes - it always ended up with Miguel and Peter making you wear clothes of their choice

soon enough, you were an official trouple

from then on, you'd always have something on you to show that you belonged together: a necklace, a bracelet, you'd wear one of their t-shirts-

speaking of which, the first time they saw you wearing one of their T-shirts, they froze in their tracks while you simply went about your life in the apartment

you didn't go out for a week after that. the reason? there were several, such as the fact that, obviously, as beautiful as you were in their clothes, they couldn't allow anyone but themselves to see you like that, but also, and above all, because you hadn't been able to walk properly all week...

once you'd had the misfortune to go out without telling them, just to buy ingredients for cookies to make them a treat, and they'd moved heaven and earth to find you until you came home like a flower.

you'd been badly scolded. what if something had happened to you and they hadn't been able to get there in time to help? what if someone came to you and asked you to do a job for them that you couldn't refuse? What if someone was mean to you?

their anger had frightened you terribly, and you'd ended up in tears

they took you in their arms, reassuring you, comforting you and making you promise never to do anything like that again

it was from that moment on that your restrictions on going out were tightened. you couldn't go out without the company of one of them, and if you wanted to go out alone, Lyla was there to watch your every move.

one thing was certain: they were loving and soft, as long as you obeyed them

[faggotmox]

I've seen the light, I'm absolutely obsessed with the pitt and I'm feral for Noah Wyle. Explain him to me. I need to know more.

(oh my god this got so long im sorry slap my hand slipped)

noah, my boy my babe my little whump whump, got his break out role in er as john carter. carter ended up being the focus of the first 11 seasons out of 15, returning to finish the series in season 15. i know after er noah got a main role in falling skies, & the librarian franchise. sadly his career never got much bigger BUT he is a really good actor & the roles he does choose he really crushes.

now...john carter :) if you enjoyed him in the pitt i urge you to run a train on er. carter is a great character, he starts out as a surgical intern in season one before realizing he isn't cut out (pun!) for surgery & his real love is in the emergency department. its so fun going over everything that happened to carter in my head. he's such a dynamic character that changes a lot, even just episode to episode.

like how to summarize john carter? the song africa by toto is actually his theme song lmao. like season 9-12 carter storyline is like verse for verse africa by toto which sounds like an indictment but isn't. the sad little rich white boy goes through a personal tragedy & then flies to the fucking congo with tv brand doctors without boarders to figure out his priorities & then decides to use his families INSANE (theyre the richest family in chicago from like exploiting coal or something in the early 1990s & he feels white guilty abt it) fortune to cure aids in africa. which sounds like it'd be terrible but...but i promise isn't.

also he's kinda bisexual king if im honest. like fr fr he & peter (his mentor in season one, & friend after) have wild sexual chemistry & when carter becomes addicted to narcotics (he got stabbed in the er by a patient with a giant cake cutting knife! bc he must suffer) peter is the only person he trusts & takes him to a treatment center. then when luka (a croatian er doc that convinces him to go to africa) is thought to be dead in africa carter goes back & is determined to find his body. like carter, is it gay to fly across the world to recover your ex girlfriend's ex boyfriend???? i think it is. he, luka, & abby have the most dysfunctional chemistry in er history im sorry.

like carter is just some rich guy who lost his brother to cancer & wanted to become a doctor to help people. he's also super cute when he cries or flips out :)

is this what you wanted to know slap? lmao also if you've seen the pitt watching er would be fun imo bc you will clearly be able to draw lines between the two shows & characters. to be robby is clearly a current day carter that has finally grown into mark greene's shoes as mark always thought he would. i think doctor robby is a nice nod to a more modernized version of mark's character while still being carter too. also if you like the political side of the pitt then er was the show that set the tone for that. its not a medical romance. er makes a point to highlight how the healthcare system fails & the systemic issues within medicine (which is personified in the 'big bad' of the first 10 seasons, dr. robert romano).

my only criticism of er thats popping out on my current rewatch is that somewhere in like maybe season 9, but i think season 10 & on, is that sometimes they kinda write medical problems/illness as a moral failing & that aways rubs me the wrong way a bit. maybe im just rose colored goggles over the first 8 or so seasons, but i really feel like they dont often fall into that.

but i'll point out something that i think is a really good thing about er. it's an ensemble cast that gets fully developed (for the most part, minus a few) & storylines are allowed to arc over seasons. you get good slow burn, well-developed stories that weave in & out over large chunks of episodes. most characters get a decent amount of screen time, even secondary/background characters (shout out nurses chuny & helah & yosh). i dont think a lot of shows achieve that. also so many of the characters are multifaceted, theres things you like or dont like about them, things they do that are upsetting or bad but also good.

OH! also there's a character named dr. weaver. she's a disabled lesbian who kicks ass & is a great doctor, but she's also a hard ass. kerry is such an interesting character, i adore her. plus they actually write over many season kerry realizing she's a lesbian to becoming comfortable to living a gay little life & it's pretty good.

thanks for coming to my ted talk--

hey this gif works perfect for my case!

[alexa-yukiyu]

Zoro and Sanji accidentally becoming parents to a little girl. Maybe they saved or protected her during a fight. She's a little sassy especially when Zoro kinda snaps at her but she's just standing up for herself. Other than that she's a complete sweet heart?? Only of you're okay with it!!!

Dual Training ( Sanji x gn!child!reader x Zoro)

A/N Reader heres is a little older, close to teen but not quite I tgink this is a flop, I din’t know where to go with jt so it kinda ended up pretty weak and im pretty sure this is not at all what you had in mind but I couldn’t come up with anything, im sorry Anon 😭 I have fail you

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

They frown, ducking to avoid the kick sent their way, swinging their bo staff Sanji’s way, forcing him to retreat. Just as he did, Dokucha turned to block Zoro’s attack, slowly sliding their staff up the sword until they were able to push him off; forgetting about the blond behind them, they charged towards the swordsman, trying to deliver a hit in his upper body, only to let out a groan as the attack was stopped by Sanji

“Okay, Okay, I give!” They exclaimed as Sanji kicked away their bo staff, Zoro having taken the opportunity to hold them at knifepoint, the sword inches away from their neck

“You’re too slow in your attacks,” Zoro commented, sheathing his sword

“My speed is not the problem.”

“Then what would you say is?” Sanji questioned, handing them their staff

“That you guys are absolute tanks!” they exclaimed

“You’re just weak,” Zoro quipped back, rolling his eyes

“And you’re just a jerk, but you don’t hear me saying that, do you?” The snapped back

The swordsman sends them a glare but doesn’t reply, opting to lie down

“Mon amour, we want you to strengthen your reflexes; that’s why we have you spare both of us at once,” Sanji explains

“Why both at the same time? Can’t even beat one of you, so why have both of you come at me at once?” The child whined

“Because your fighting style mixes both the use of weapons and the use of the body to fight," Zoro muttered, opening his eyes to glance at them

"Oh."

Sanji chuckles at their reaction, lighting a cigarette and blowing and exhaling a cloud of smoke

“I don’t use weapons nor my hands to fight for that matter, so I can only help you improve your fighting with your lower body; musclehead over here is a savage and knows about fighting with brawn and no brain and can help you work your staff.”

He lets out a scoff at that

“Say’s the one who fights like a mule, kicking his way out of everything.”

They sighed as, once again, the bickering resumed between the two

“Knock it off,” they call, standing in between them breaking the fight off as they glared at each other

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“For always looking out for me and helping me become stronger,” they exclaim, sending them a grateful smile

“It’s no problem, mon/ma chéri”

Zoro just let out a grunt at their proclamation, at which they grinned, knowing the greenhead struggled with expressing himself verbally, easily understanding the underlying meaning of his actions

Im sorry yall, but I have an idea for the next one, I think it’s gonna be a cook

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Ok so....

Aizetsu taking an aphrodisiac

Write this scenario however you want it to end up, either way I'll love it 🙏🏾😩

Failed successfully

This idea has every egg in my reproductive system exploding and leaking out of me. GOOD LORD😍🙈

Warnings: fem!reader, aphrodisiac (its a substance ment to increase someone sex drive), accidental drug use, consent is given (obviously), rough sex, biting, blood mentioned (from the bite and Aizetsu's sharp nails), cum play, size kink (my silly little mind likes to imagine him getting bigger on the aphrodisiac), breeding kink

You're in a mess now. Your friend had stopped by earlier in the day to not only spend time with you but also to show you this new substance she got. It was something she wanted to try for herself and her boyfriend to have a more exciting time in bed, and you could only shake your head at her idea but still cheer her on.

Stupidly, your friend had left the substance on the table. It was too late for your friend to walk back to your house and send a crow telling you she'd come pick it up tomorrow. You looked at the clock and saw that your boyfriend Aizetsu hadn't shown up yet. You head to the shower without him thinking he got caught up in a meeting and didn't want to mind it too much.

Once you came out with the towel around your body, you heard someone in your kitchen. You walk towards the light with a chuckle. "I thought it wad you Aizetsu. Why are you here... so.. late.." You lose trail of your words when you see the blue-eyed demon taking the small pills and eating one at a time from the bottle.

"Why did you shower without me... how sad, " Aizetsu said with a frown, but you could only stand there there, dumb founded. "What are you doing!?" You said and rushed over to him, taking away the bottle. "Don't raise your voice at me.. it makes me sad, " he said, almost sounding like hes going to cry. "What did I do for you to yell at me? You'd never have a problem when i eat some of your candy, but it seems like you do now.. im sorry, please don't hate me." Aizetsu let his head fall down to stare at his feet.

You sigh and hold his head up by his cheeks to look at you "I could never hate you" you smiled and kissed his lips "and I'm not angry or not sharing my candy with you... but baby, this isn't candy. " Your smile turned into a worried one, "you see. To put it simple my friend accidentally left these sex pills her and her boyfriend wanted to try out and that's what you just took" you laughed nervously.

"Dose it have wisteria in it.." Aizetsu asked, almost frighten. "No, no!! Well it is made from natural things but there's no wisteria in it" you let go of his face and think "actually... I don't believe this will work on a demon so I wouldn't worry" you smiled to reassure Aizetsu.

"If there's no wisteria in it, then it's fine. However, " he points down "you're not correct on it having no effect on a demon. How sad," he said. You look down to see his dick print through his pants. "i-i see... I was wrong -" you said, but Aizetsu picks you up effortlessly and puts you on the table.

"Y/n~" his breaths became heavy, and his hands grabbed your hips tightly, pulling you closer to his crotch to grind his cock againts you "Please, I need you," he begs and leans forward, pressing his chest agisnts your boobs and licks your ear "you're friend wanted to see how this aphrodisiac would work on her boyfriend right? Why don't you give her a review on how it worked on your demon boyfriend? " Aizetsu said, already moaning. I'm your ear as he grinds harder.

"Aizetsu~" you moaned his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Let's go to the bed, I want it there" you asked and Aizetsu carried you there.

"Anything for you"

Aizetsu tried to be slow and calm with you like usual, but with each passing second, he couldn't hold back anymore. You took notice and moved his hair from his face to kiss his forehead and his pretty horns. "It's okay~" You can be as rough as you want, " you said, cupping his face."y-you sure?" Aizetsu grabs at your nightgown. "I wouldn't want to hurt you. It saddens me if I did-" You put your hand over his lips.

"I said it's okay," you reassured. With that, Aizetsu tears your nightgown off your body, ripping it apart and going straight to eating at your pussy "m'sorry" he said while licking and giving your clit little sucks with his lips "I'll get you a pretty new nightgown for you" Aizetsu moaned on your pussy, grinding his cock agiants the bed.

"Oh my god~" you moan. Your back arches, pushing your hips up in his face as his long tounge swirls around your clit and his moans sending vibrations on your pussy. You grab onto his horns to push his head down more for more pressure and your hips moving in circles.

Aizetsu held your thighs open, digging his nails into your skin just enough for red spots to form. Despite him wanting to fuck you badly he was more desperate to taste you, eventually using his nose to rub on your clit while his tounge enters inside you.

You call out his name. Aizetsu knew you were close. He moans, rolling his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal, and feels your muscles tighten on his tounge and watch as your body tenses and your loud moans as you cream on his tounge.

"Aizetsu," you weakly saw his name as you watched him lick up your mess. "So good. You taste so good y/n," he kept licking at your pussy until you pulled his mouth off your pussy by his horns "you've been grinding on the bed for so long" you said and spread your pussy open with your fingers "put it inside me".

Aizetsu had drool running down his chin, not having time to wipe it off since his hands were too busy taking off his clothing. "I'm so hard and sensitive y/n.." he breaths heavy and you could see the pre cum oozing from his tip. "It's okay, it'll feel better soon. If it gets too much, I'll ride you, ok?" You said. Only Aizetsu is the one in control

Aizetsu moans, sliding his cock between your folds and then sliding inside. You both let out a loud moan, your hands immediately wrapping around Aizetsu and his hands gripping into the bed sheets so hard he could almost tear them apart.

Aizetsu started thrusting his hips, giving you deep strokes. You felt him statch you out and hear his soft moans in your ear. The moment was feeling good for you both until Aizetsu started whimpering and his movements coming to a stop.

You gasped holding onto him tightly when you felt his cum already filling you up "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he whispers in your ear. You couldn't help but smile at his early orgasm but then look at him surprised when he pushed your legs back to your chest and continued to thrust his hips but harder this time "I want to fill you up again" he moans watching his cock fuck his cum back inside you.

"A-Aizetsu, f-fuck your going to make me cum again" you whine, feeling him roughly hit your spot and your hand presses on his abs. Aizetsu takes both your wrists and holds your hands above your head. "Don't run from it," he snaps his hips faster, making you almost scream.

"your pussy clenched so hard when I said I want to fill you up again. Do you want that? Want your demon boyfriend to fill you up and give you a baby?" Your mouth hangs open, only nodding to his question. Aizetsu's eyes rolled back and his eyes shut "oh fuck~" he whines "fuck, fuck fuck. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up" he made one final thrust and cums inside you.

Your legs shake from your orgasm. Aizetsu kept thrusting his hips slowly and then pulling out to watch his cum drip down to your hole. "Y/n, turn around for me," he said, putting his hands on your hips to help you turn. You turned around on all fours and looked over your shoulder, you saw his cock still hard, yet looking bigger then normal.

"Aizetsu~, it got bigger," you said "it's already big but it looks bigger" you moaned once Aizetsu pressed his tip on your hole "it must be the aphrodisiac making me grow" he said and pushes his cock inside making you mewl "but you can take it right? You'll take it for me?" Aizetsu growls lowly, digging his nails into your hips, thrusting his hips.

"Y-yes!" You whine "fuck it feels so good" you whisper letting your head fall feeling his cock throb inside you, getting thicker from his excitement. "Say it again~" Aizetsu leans forward to bite at your shoulder, not enough to cause permanent damage, but enough for blood to flow out. His nails started to pierce, causing small cuts to form and kept pounding his deep inside your cumm filled pussy.

"It's so good, so good~" you said, already going dumb on his cock and moan loudly once you've felt Aizetsu fingers roughly rub at your sensitive clit. Aizetsu's thrusts became sloppy, grinding on your ass as he gets close to another orgasm.

Aizetsu kept his bite on your shoulder, his whimpers mixed in with growls and pouding your pussy until he cums, not stopping until he fully rides out his orgasm and until you've squirted, making a bigger mess with your juices running down your legs.

Aizetsu stayed inside you for a minute until he let's you go from his bite and pulled out of you slowly, letting out a sigh in relief. "Are you okay?" He asked and watches as his cum leaks out of you again, seeing what a mess he's made out of you.

You nod and open your arms for Aizetsu to lay down on your boobs. Aizetsu rubs your hips and then your stomach closing his eyes once you start to pet his head.

"I'll he sure to give my friend a good review" you giggled.

[toothtalk]

Hi! I just read ur post about dental care and taking care of your teeth while being neurodivergent!! These past few years of my life I have been stuck in a pretty debilitating ocd spiral that took up all my time, and unfortunately as a reault my dental care fell just incredibly through the cracks, as I couldn’t focus on anything but my ocd. I just went back to the dentist after 6 years, and I have 18 cavities!!!! I’m hopefully getting them filled but it’s gonna be a hard process and im really nervous plus I feel extremely digusted at myself for letting myself get this bad, I don’t know a single person who’s had this many in one go!! before this I never had any real dental issues, and never had more than a cleaning. Any advice on what kind of questions I should be asking in my treatment consultation? Or what to expect / how to make this easier/ manage it?

first off, i just want to say i am so proud of you for going to see the dentist again! that is a huge and super difficult step, and you will be so much healthier for it.

i hope i've gotten to this ask in time, but if you've already had your treatment consultation i'm so sorry and i would love to hear how it went! i'll go ahead and tell you what i can, in hopes that even if you've already had it, it will help others reading this post:

i know 18 cavities sounds really intimidating, especially for someone who's never had one before, but i want you to know that having cavities is not a moral failing. i have ocd too, and i know it's so hard to not shame ourselves for things like this, but i promise you are not a bad or disgusting person, and you are far from the only person who struggled to care for their teeth while going through a difficult period with their mental health.

when i do a treatment consult with my patients, i try to approach it from an educational standpoint. i explain why they need the treatment they do, go through the process of what they're getting done if they're not familiar with the procedure, and break the treatment down into steps. hopefully your treatment coordinator will take a similar approach when you sit down with them, but don't hesitate to ask them questions. you've never had fillings before, and it makes sense that you're nervous! they should be able to walk you through exactly what the appointments will look like, and how you can best prepare for them and care for your new fillings at home afterwards.

your dentist will likely have you in for multiple visits; they'll work on one section of your mouth at a time, so that you won't be numb all over or have to sit in the chair for hours on end. it's very important that you keep up on your homecare so that the cavities don't grow while you're waiting for that section to be worked on. you can ask about what options they have to arrest the decay in the meantime; silver diamine fluoride is very popular for this, but it will stain your cavities until they are fixed, so some patients opt to not do that. a prescription strength toothpaste is never a bad idea, either, and it can slow the rate of decay for the time being.

please try not to self-flagellate about your cavities. i'm happy you're back in a place where you can care for yourself, but shaming ourselves for how we survived difficult times will never be the answer. you made it and now you're helping yourself get healthy again! that's so beautiful!

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This blog is for educational and informational purposes only. This does not constitute providing medical advice or professional services. Information on this blog should NOT be used for diagnostics or treating a health problem. Always seek the advice of your doctor or other qualified dental health provider regarding diagnosis and treatment of a dental condition.Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this blog.

[cxvii666]

hi ten!!! i've just found out ur writing and i really love it, i truly believe you're very talented!!

so i was wondering if i could do ur match me up? (btw u deserve like a lot more followers)

age: 17

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

fav ff trope: enemies but like not really enemies just two people bantering and teasing and arguing to lovers

preferred fandom: either mha or haikyuu!

fav first date idea: stargazing, i think! like you're comfortable and you can find lots of things to talk about, but also you can stay in silence without any awkwardness

fav album: omg omg I think ttpd by taylor swift or your favorite worst nightmare by Arctic monkeys

screen time: like 10 hours? most of them used to read ffs

love life: single but I feel like something's gonna happen soon (idk im delusional)

name: anna!

“your perfect match is...”

... ATSUMU MIYA

wc: 655

“and it's wrong, wrong, wrong, but we'll do it anyway 'cos we love a bit of trouble”

"if we get caught i'm so selling you out, as in i'll tell them that you kidnapped me and dragged me out here to like murder me or something

atsumu, who’s a few steps ahead, just scoffs at you. "we’re not gonna get caught."

you flash him a sarcastic grin. "well, then, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about."

he groans, clearly annoyed with the way you’re picking at him, but still amused. "relax, would’ya? we’re almost there anyways."

you roll your eyes, picking up your pace to catch up to him and glancing around the dark, empty school grounds. the only sound is the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the distant hum of traffic in the city.  this whole thing is so ridiculous. you two barely talk outside of class, and now he’s got you sneaking around at whatever time it is, way too late, to go stargazing? really?

you don't know how he's so good at pulling you into things you didn’t want to be a part of.

"i still don’t understand why we had to come all the way out here for stars," you grumble, trying to keep the sarcasm out of your tone but failing miserably.

atsumu, who’s walking a little too confidently for someone who's literally trespassing, gives you that annoying grin. "you just don’t get it, yeah, stars are cool. also, you’re gonna want a break from that dumb assignment, anyway."

you sigh dramatically. "says the guy who’s gonna try distract me the whole time, and then act like i’m the problem."

he shrugs nonchalantly. "it’s a team effort. you distract me, i distract you, then we both fail the assignment. sounds good, right?"

"oh, absolutely," you say, rolling your eyes again. "best plan ever."

"exactly," he shoots back, his smirk getting wider as he looks up at the clear night sky. "see, i’m just here to help you out."

you have no idea how he’s so carefree about this. you’re sure the whole thing is his idea of some stupid bonding experience, but it’s kind of working. as much as you don’t want to admit it, there’s something about the night sky that feels... calming.

"you sure you didn’t just drag me out here to get out of doing homework?" you ask, the teasing edge still in your voice.

"nah, you got it all wrong," he responds, holding his hands up in mock defense. "i’m here to give you some peace and quiet... except, it’s gonna be peace and quiet with me, so it’s more like, peace with a side of funnnn."

you can’t help but laugh at that. "you’re unbelievable," you mutter, finally slowing to a stop as you both reach the open field.

atsumu, looking absolutely smug, takes a few steps further into the grass and gestures to the sky. "see? perfect view. just wait till the stars start really showing off."

you squint at the sky, half-expecting some dramatic overstatement. but, to your surprise, the stars are actually amazing. the whole sky is practically glowing with them, like they’ve been waiting for you to look.

"...okay, fine," you admit with a small smile. "this is nice."

atsumu looks at you like he’s won a championship. "i told you. just needed to get you away from the books for a bit."

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps up on your face. "yeah, yeah, you win. but if i fail this assignment, i’m blaming you."

"you won’t fail. just take a deep breath. i’ll be your study buddy for real next time," atsumu says, his grin turning a little more sincere.

you raise an eyebrow at him. "study buddy? now i’m worried."

he winks at you. "don’t worry, i’m a pro at making things... fun."

"great," you mutter sarcastically, but even you can’t hide your grin as you both lay back on the grass, letting the peaceful quiet take over.

hii pookie pie sorry this took so long but i really enjoyed writing it and i hope u enjoy reading it lol ALSO HAIKYUU WAS LIKE MY BIGGEST OBSESSION FOR YEARSSS so im like SUPA glad u requested this one and fwnm is like a top tier album 🙏🙏 @lxdystxrdustt you're really sweet ily 😚

[dandelion-system]

Complicated news!

So. Obviously it’s been Christmas. The most I’ve gone out for the past like, two weeks? Has been maybe 30 minutes at the grocery store. A small grocery store, may I add, where I did not push the trolley or carry any of the bags. Basically I went for a very slow, short walk.

Anyway. It’s been like, two of those trips and a few five minute walks around the block with my dog. I take my dog out a couple times a day because he’s small and can’t handle long walks, but he still needs the walks and we don’t have a garden for him to use as a toilet.

And I’m still in pain. But so, so much less pain.

I still get hand cramps drawing or playing video games too long- but I can do it much longer than before. I still get aching joints when I sit still too long, I still click when I move and my joints still feel wobbly and unstable. I still get a little dizzy standing up too long.

But you know what? I would say my baseline at the moment, is a 2. A 2! My baseline is 4, tipping towards 5 most of the time! And by the end of the day, I’m usually up at an 8 or 9. But over Christmas? I’ve been waking up at a 2, and stayed a 2 all day!

I’ve not gone to the gym. I’ve not changed my diet. I’ve not changed my meds. I’ve not done anything different, except rest. I’m just not going into uni, carrying heavy things and walking around all the time. I’m still using my joints, enough that I still feel like I can control them, and I enjoy talking short walks! 5-30 minutes is plenty of walking for me to feel like I’ve moved plenty in a day and just stave off that stiff-ache.

This is only adding my hypothesis that I have a hypermobility condition. But, I guess we still have to go through all the tests. Mum is, well, we’re pretty sure she’s still convinced it’s our meds. I guess if all else fails, we can give that a go. See if it really is.

I guess, on the one hand, I’m like ‘I knew it! I told you I knew the circumstances for me feeling better! I told you i felt bad because of this!’ But at the same time, that leaves it as an ‘unfixable’ problem. One where the doctors tell me to use pacing and discourage me from using mobility aids so I end up just stuck at home constantly. That’s my biggest fear. That I get a hsd or heds diagnosis and get told to just pace. ‘Oh yeah so if it doesn’t hurt when you don’t do anything just, don’t do anything.” BUT IM SO BORED. I’m literally counting the days till I’m back at uni because pain be damned I’m so bored and tired of my family being stuck inside. I want to go and do things! But, professionals don’t like mobility aids unless you’re old or have a more ‘severe’ disability.

Anyway. It looks like I’ll probably have to give up ice skating, which sucks. Idk. I should probably keep this to talk about with my new therapist.