#and just not being able to. do. anything?

[batsandbirdbrains]

A thought before I go to bed: Dick Grayson being the test child for essentially every single JL member would do unrepairable psychic & emotional damage. It’s not anything obvious, it’s not anything outright.

But he was their test pancake. The one you put on the griddle to test that the temperature is right and the batter is the way you want it. He turned out a funny shape, burned on one side, and lost half himself before he fully grew up.

And every other child that comes into their lives, every other sidekick after him benefits from his suffering. He’s the one they had to push to the limits to be able to find out what boundaries they should be setting. He’s the one who broke a leg because an adult hero tossed (threw him like a sack of potatoes) way too hard for him to make a landing. He’s the one who got a concussion during training because an adult knocked him down too hard.

He’s the one who got shot by a rogue and then yelled at for it, who got fired (even if it was taken back, even if Bruce swears he was just trying to protect him), he’s the one who got kicked out when he was still a kid. It doesn’t matter that Bruce let him back in. To this day, he hasn’t told Bruce what happened during the four months he spent away from the manor. He doesn’t tell him how he had to play apprentice to Deathstroke the Terminator. He doesn’t tell anyone what he had to do to escape.

He’s the one they forgot on special occasions the first time and then after that made sure to never forget a kid’s special day they were invited to ever again.

One person showed up to Dick Grayson’s high school graduation. He was salutatorian and graduating a year early. Alfred Pennyworth was the only one there, watching, clapping for him, taking photographs, congratulating him. Took him out to dinner to celebrate then had to watch as Dick cried over a bowl of pasta he didn’t even end up eating.

Everyone else either forgot or put the mission first. Dick never forgives any of them. He never forgets it. He may not bring it up, he may not hold it over their heads, but he’ll never forget how alone and worthless he felt when he looked out into the crowd as he was giving his speech and he saw an entire section of empty chairs with Alfred sitting on the end.

He listens to their excuses and their apologies. But then he sees every other kid after him have a whole section of heroes cheering them on when they get their diplomas, and Dick can’t help but feel bitter about it.

And it sucks, because on one hand, he’s so glad these actual adults aren’t fucking up other kids like how they fucked up him. But on the other hand, why couldn’t they have just been there for him? Why couldn’t they have gotten their shit together for him? Why is was it always him?

Anyway nighty night perhaps I’ll expand upon this thought process tomorrow

[fckmebarnes]

your idol

camboy!bucky x camgirl!reader

18+ smut — men and minors dni. somno. (pre established) toy use (dildo/vibrator) squirting. multiple orgasms. breeding kink if you squint a little. daddy nickname. fingering (r). bucky is insatiable. he needs u fr.

wc 2.1k

a/n — this came from a place of horny (somno is one of my top kinks), along with this request. i felt this one in my pussy when writing it. this is just the start of camboy!bucky & camgirl!reader <3

“you guys would not believe how wet she is right now…” bucky’s voice is soft; quiet. with his eyes glued to your pussy, he pulls the translucent purple dildo out of your hole slowly — watching at is sheens in the slick coming from you.

“bet it doesn’t pick up well on camera…” he mutters, still watching your cunt as he pushes it back inside you.

you were knocked out — taking a nap after going several rounds with bucky was what you and your body needed

and you gave him permission to keep playing afterwards.

of course he took it.

your leg was hiked up as you rested on your side, an arm propped under your pillow and a blue night dress adorned your body.

the fabric was riding up on your hip, your cunt exposed with how you hiked your leg up further than the other. you always claimed it was a comfortable sleeping position but he knew you better than that.

it was an easy access position — one you only did when you wanted him to take advantage of you.

and here he was. fulfilling your wish.

“fuck, baby…” his own cock twitches in his lap as he watches your cunt swallow the dildo all over again — imagining it was his own cock sinking into your wet cunt.

not yet. he has to be patient. give the viewers what they want.

even if his cock is painfully hard right now and leaking all over the sheets.

he spreads your ass with his other hand, sinking the dildo to a hilt into your cunt as he reached over and grabs a small bullet vibrator.

“gonna make this pretty pussy sing around this fake dick…” he mutters, eyeing the chat of the live stream and hearing the sound of pings incoming — signaling that he’s getting extra tipped.

he hadn’t done anything like this with you before, but it was pre-established you both wanted to make this sort of content — whether it be for your own two eyes or for your shared account — it didn’t matter.

you both just wanted to play with each other.

he goes to grip his own cock in his hands, moving ahis fist at the same pace the dildo was fucking your pussy. it made his head spin at how easy you were for him — how easy you were to open up and let him take you like this whenever he wanted.

and you both were getting paid for it?

fuck. it made his cock twitch harder in his hand.

he never thought that he would ever do cam work let alone be with someone who did cam work and collaborate. but somehow he got lucky with you.

meeting you on the first few nights of his own career launching, needing some subscribers and some exposure but being the humble man he was — he didn’t reach out or initiate first.

until he saw you one time on live.

you were fucking your pretty pussy with a clear, glass dildo — tits bouncing with each thrust as you fucked yourself with it on the floor.

you had your fingers strumming your clit and the other twisted a nipple and he swore he never saw someone more beautiful than you when he saw you squirt on camera.

“you sound so fucking good, baby…” he mutters all to himself as he stops jerking his cock, taking the vibrator and turning it on before slotting it between your swollen cunt and the blanket that was snug between your legs

involuntarily, your hips jerk — a warm sensation spreading through your body as you move your hips against the sheets. he watches your body hungrily, biting his lip as he starts moving his hand on his own cock again.

your brows furrow as you keep your speed up, dreams blending together, not knowing what you were truly dreaming about or not.

all you knew was you had an ache — one so deep only bucky would’ve been able to fix it.

and he knew that.

sly little shit.

“makin’ a mess of the sheets, doll.” he coos softly as he turns to the camera and pulls it closer, letting everyone see your cunt glistening in the low ring light setting.

he looks back over at your cunt as he swipes a metal finger through your folds — your hips backing up into him instinctively.

“so responsive…so sensitive…” he trails off as he hears your quite whimpers filter through your lips, fingers clutching the sheets gently.

he pushes the tip of his fingers slowly into your hole, easily letting him in as you settle your hips back down — nuzzling into the silk pillowcase. his eyes travel up the length of your body, settling on your face.

that was something that was kept private by the rest of the internet except him.

you didn’t mind it, either.

in fact you kinda loved it. made it feel like he has a more possessive claim over you — being the only one able to bask in your pleasure.

that’s what he loved most about doing this with you.

he draws his finger back, lips parting softly at the sight of his digit covered in your slick. he has to bring it up to his lips, moaning softly at the taste of you on his tongue.

“such a sweet sleepy pussy…” he sinks his finger back into your cunt before he’s grabbing the camera off the tripod and holding it in his free hand.

“look how well she takes me — even in her sleep.” he groans as he sinks a second one in, your hips pushing back against his touch as you whine into the pillow. he chuckles to himself, knowing you can’t help it. your body is just that needy for him.

“shh..” he coos, picking up the pace with his fingers fucking your cunt. his cock bobs in between your thighs, nudging your clit every so often with the way his arm moves to fuck you. he groans every time he feels your swollen clit bump his sensitive tip — leaking and spreading a mess all over you.

“think i can make her cum like this?” he whispers mostly to the livestream — watching your face furrow in frustration as your hips start bucking gently against his fingers, his thumb coming to rub your clit as you let out the softest moan in your sleep.

“fuck.” his moan is deep; guttural. the only kind you can possess form him like that.

and you weren’t even awake this time.

after a few more lazy strokes to your clit and curling his two thick fingers inside of you, he had you cumming around his digits in seconds — your hips stuttering against his hold as he feels his cock ache painfully.

he needs to be inside you — feel your warmth around his aching cock.

“good girl.” even if you’re knocked out, he still needs to praise you. and your body responds to it the second you clench around his fingers as they stay buried in you for a second.

you’re dripping down his wrist and arm at this point — a mess had already been on the sheets from you rutting into them before all of this and started.

you couldn’t help it, you were a needy little thing in your sleep.

he keeps the camera positioned for a second before he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, watching the way it clenches around air from the loss of being filled

you whimpered in your sleep. that made his cock twitch — slapping against your wet folds.

he puts the camera back onto the tripod, getting the best angle of his thighs, your ass presented to the camera and the short length of your back before it disappears.

your wet cunt is on display for everyone at home to see, whoever is lazily jerking off to it.

at least bucky got to feel it for real.

he takes his metal fist and wraps it around his cock giving it a few jerks before he’s pressing the tip into your wet hole.

a debauched moan leave his lips before he’s even sinking into you. he feels almost embarrassed but to be quite honest after feeling you cum and jerk around his fingers mere seconds ago — he couldn’t have given a fuck.

“shit baby… you’re so tight…” he ends up leaning over the length of you for a second as he pushes all the way in — your cunt stretching nicely around the thickness of his cock.

he peppers kisses on the exposed skin on your shoulder, his scruff of his beard scratching against you making you stir slightly.

well, it was mostly the scratching of his beard.

you let out the softest, most pathetic sleepy moan bucky had ever heard in his life, following along with his name.

“buck…?”

the sound along has him almost busting a fucking nut.

he draws his hips back before he’s slamming them back into you, making you moan again, louder.

“shh..sweetheart,” he mumbles against your shoulder as his lips travel up your shoulder to your neck, right under your earlobe. “daddy’s just gotta take care of this sleepy pussy, alright?”

you’re so fucking sleepy and out of it that you don’t even process yourself nodding your head, nor the way your hips lift up and your ass pressed firmly against his own hips — driving the tip of his cock to your sweet spot.

“mm..” is all that leaves your throat as your eyes flutter open for a split second to look down at see bucky’s metal arm holding his body weight up and over you — his hips thrusting into you at a pace that rocked you back to sleep.

“atta girl, go back to sleep. daddy’ll take care of the rest…” he murmurs against your skin as you whimper in your sleep. he lets out a satisfied grunt as he pulls his hips back and reaches for the vibrator, pushing it into your hole while his cock sinks back into you.

the vibrations has him shivering.

“oh fuck…” his whimpers are muffled by your skin as he starts fucking you deep and slow, feeling the toy inside you and snug up against his shaft makes his head dizzy.

“fuck baby…oh god…” he’s now being reduced to a whimper, whining mess as he feels you drip all over him and his balls, down onto the sheets.

he feels your cunt clench the toy and him, hips rutting back against him as he makes sure you feel every single inch of his thick cock inside you. wanting to make sure even in your sleep — you can feel how deep he is.

so he takes he metal hand and leans onto his elbow before pressing his hand against your lower tummy, chest pressed against your back at this point

he’s rocking into you helplessly

he hears you whimper into your pillow as you press against him further, his own moans falling from his lips as he feels himself getting pushed to the edge.

he reaches further below your tummy with his metal fingers to press against your clit — the added stimulation making your cunt squeeze him hard enough to trigger his orgasm. the sound of the tip jar notification going off gets drowned out by blood rushing to his ears.

“oh…fuck—! take it, doll. every last drop…mm..” whimpering against your skin he rubs your clit making sure to get you there again, addicted to the feel of your cunt squeezing his cock.

he feels your body come after him, hops convulsions against him, still in your sleepy state.

your fists bunched tightly at the sheets as you moan into them, eyes screwed shut as you squirt all over his cock and the sheets.

he groans as notices you made an entire mess of him and yourself, kissing your skin gently.

“good fuckin’ girl…takin’ all of my cum…even in your sleep your pussy can’t get enough.” he’s reached to pull the toy out first and shutting it off before pulling out himself, taking the camera to show the after math

he angles the camera to show his hot cum leaking out of your wrecked cunt, dripping onto the soaked sheets below. his thumb finds your hole and pushes some more of his cum back in — his screen lighting up with tip after tip after tip.

he grins, feeling your cunt clench around his finger.

“gotta fill this pussy up one more time. she’s begging for it. see ya sluts later.” he says before he’s turning off the camera and live, tossing the phone and pulling you into his chest before sinking right back into you.

[bluukive]

gojo x touch-avoidant!reader (fluff)

You’re not sure when the fixation began. All you knew was that it was slowly beginning to manifest as a growing itch, eventually gnawing at your mind with an unbearable intensity. Unfortunately for you, you were reserved by nature. Affection didn’t come to you naturally— in both giving and receiving. You’d shy away from your boyfriend, freezing at the briefest bit of contact.  

Sometimes, all you could do was ask the question— why was Satoru even with you in the first place?

Your boyfriend was always loud with his affection, dramatic proclamations of love spilling from his lips every day whilst remaining conscious of your boundaries. Satoru made sure to look you in the eye before initiating anything, the deep blue twinkling regardless of whether you rejected his advances or not. He gave you time. He gave you space.

But now you don't want either. 

“Doin’ okay, sweetcheeks?” Satoru’s voice brought you out of your thoughts as you watched him cook breakfast. Your head rested in your hand, legs swinging from where you sat on the countertop. He was facing you now, sunlight dancing over his fair lashes. Your boyfriend was simply stunning. 

Your throat dried up— as it usually did when you felt vulnerable. You nodded, but the lie felt wrong. You shrugged, then shook your head with a sigh. 

Satoru doesn’t push you to elaborate. He merely watched with those glinting eyes, sizzling pan set down onto the stove. The lopsided grin he usually gave you melted into one that was much softer. He didn’t want to scare his pretty girl off.

His lack of response prompted you, urged you to fill the silence. 

“I kinda… want a kiss,” you begin, clammy fingers twisting into your hoodie,”but I don’t know how to tell you that.”

“You just did, my pretty,” Satoru coos out softly, trying not to let the glee on his face show.  His closed-off girlfriend wanted some loving, and he was more than happy to provide. He leans in closer— not enough to touch you, but enough so that the warmth of his body could soothe your frazzled nerves. 

Oh, he could have just jumped in delight when he felt your warm fingers circle around his wrist. One tug of his arm turns into two, until he’s snuggled up between your parted legs. 

The kiss didn’t come right away. A tender palm rubbed at your knee, massaging the bare skin in slow circles. 

For once, you didn’t flinch. Yes, the touch is foreign. Your heart lurched in your chest and your skin prickled with an uncomfortable heat. But you looked at Satoru, eyes boring into his as you silently pleaded for more. The taller man could sense the uncertainty, the way you questioned whether you were deserving of his touch. He saw it all. 

Your insecurity was uncalled for in his eyes. Satoru swore he’d never seen a being so divine before, and he was the lucky recipient of your love— regardless of whether or not you were able to reciprocate. If anything, he was the one that felt unworthy of even an ounce of your attention. 

Satoru wanted to use his words, but he felt as if they weren’t adequate enough to convey his undying devotion to you. Instead, his safe palms slid up your arms, gently coaxing the sleeves from out of your clenched hands. To be seen is to be loved, and your boyfriend saw the way you held all your tension in your body. He saw the way your shoulders remained stiff, the tight chest… He wanted to alleviate that, so he proceeded to cup each side of your face before leaning in for a lingering peck. 

Not on your lips, though. 

One soft kiss to your cheek.

Another one landed on your furrowed brow, easing the stress you held there.

Your two eyelids.

The tip of your nose. 

Finally, the corner of your lips. 

...

You’ve never felt lighter. 

Your boyfriend could tell you didn’t want to push for a proper kiss, but he was fine with that. Perfectly fine. He would happily wait until you wanted all of him, even if it took another day, another year, or perhaps— an entire infinity. ༄.°

[dovand]

if this resonates with you. if your hair gets weird and frizzy when you brush it. look at me. when you next wash your hair—get it nice and wet, lather it up in conditioner, and comb it through wet. you can get plastic brushes that can live in the shower, or you can use a wide-tooth comb, or you can use your fingers. it will cling to itself, it will start to curl naturally. rinse out the conditioner (it doesn't need to be 100 percent out*). if you have a hair oil (like argan oil or coconut), apply it once you're out of the shower. if you're dry-brushing your hair/shampooing it regularly/sleeping on a cotton pillowcase/wearing hats or hoods/straightening it, your hair is probably pretty dry. find an old t shirt or something similarly soft (and not terrycloth, ie normal towel material) and gently scrunch your hair to dry it. if you're able, a silk pillowcase or sleeping cap or even just a folded-up silk scarf will keep your hair from drying out too much during the night. if you have long hair, don't tie it up tightly while wet—it will curl as it dries and accrue tension and probably break. tie it loosely or not at all. if you want it out of your face, hair clips are your new best friend. there are 1 million fancy, often expensive hair products** and some of them will work but some of them will just be fancy and overpriced. you don't need a super complicated routine—just some patience, an awareness of how curly hair is different to straight, a generous amount of conditioner, and the time to comb it through in the shower. your hair is NOT difficult, it is NOT bad, it is just DIFFERENT.

*is my understanding, anyway. i'm still not an expert so, grain of salt. i try not to fully rinse it out because then my hair just gets dry again but YMMV

**re hair products: argan oil and coconut oil are common ingredients, and quite labour-intensive to manufacture, hence the price. there's a spreadsheet on r/curlygirl of products if you want, but it's mostly US-based last i checked. there are loads of stupid-fancy products with fancy-sounding marketing and lots of adjectives (nourishing! organic! rejuvenating!) but you don't necessarily need anything special. the most important thing, i find, is some nice oil—you can use normie shampoo and conditioner, do your combing through, and then oil your hair afterwards to keep it nice and hydrated. you don't need to finger-curl but you can. (if you have chronic wrist pain, finger-curling might exacerbate it)

OH ALSO—find a hairdresser who knows how to cut curly hair!!!!! if you're in the US this will probably be more achievable on account of there being more Black people—find a Black hairdresser or someone in a Black area! if you're not in the US/somewhere w a Black population it will likely be more difficult but don't be afraid to shop around a bit to find someone who understands how to cut curls. it is worth it.

somewhere out there right now is a kid with curly hair being raised by people who have wavy hair at best and those people are giving them 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner and telling them to dry brush it. and that kid is gonna spend all of middle school and high school hating their hair and moping over the flat iron. they're being told right now that if they don't dry-brush their curl pattern into oblivion every morning it means they're unkempt and gross even though they naturally have the kind of ringlets that a thousand bridezillas would commit horrible murders for every june. it's happening right now it's an absolute epidemic and a tragedy every time

[batsandbirdbrains]

Another one inspired by this anon who asked abt fics where Dick turns out to be younger than everyone thinks and the recs that were given:

Can be pretty much any setting I suppose, sometime when Nightwing is supposed to be 21. His friends all threw a big party for him. Dick Grayson had a special gala hosted by Bruce Wayne and everything. He’s been drinking (well, he’d been drinking illegally for years now with his friends, but that’s beside the point). Fact of the matter is, Dick is supposed to be 21 and he’s done things that wouldn’t otherwise be legal for someone under 21. He had a whole phase where he needed a cigarette every time he had to deal with Batman (Camels, the best cigarettes, either Blue or Gold, because Dick has Good Taste). That phase may have started before he turned 21 because Roy gave him one after a particularly bad fight with Bruce and then couldn’t say no whenever Dick asked for another.

But really, he hadn’t actually been eight when Bruce took him in. His parents and the circus changed his age on paper all the time so he’d meet the minimum age requirement to perform with them. In Gotham, that minimum age was eight.

In reality, Dick was five. They said he was short because he was a gymnast. It wasn’t totally unbelievable.

But then he forgot to tell Bruce about it until it was several months after living with him and being Robin, and Dick was scared that if he told him the truth, that he’d lied about his age, that Bruce wouldn’t want him anymore.

So he never told anyone. And he was able to convince Bruce to let him be homeschooled the first year or two, and Alfred was a rigorous teacher. He was all caught up with his supposed age group by the time he started at Gotham Academy. Then, he overcompensated so much that by the time we was supposed to be 13, it was recommended he go into high school instead of 8th grade.

It was a lot. It was a stressful time. Dick was a ten year old freshman and also Robin on the side. Bruce really shouldn’t have given him such shit for not wanting to go to college, he was so burned out. But he couldn’t tell him why. It was exhausting. Besides, Dick gets plenty of college credits by doing the random online class here and there. Dick actually managed to get a degree, he just never told anyone. One day, he’s going to whip it out during an argument with Bruce just to prove a point and spite him. He has it all planned out.

But now, there’s some magic shenanigans going on, and everyone on the planet over the age of 20 is separated from those under 20.

And Nightwing is with everyone under 20.

No one says anything at first, Nightwing is the obvious leader of those on his side of things, and they coordinate with the JL on the other side via Captain Marvel going back and forth to relay messages.

But as soon as the threat is dealt with and everything is back to normal, Batman is standing with one of his hands gripping Nightwing’s arm so tight, there isn’t a doubt in Dick’s mind that it’s going to leave a bruise.

“Hey B,” Nightwing says, chuckling nervously. “Good to have you back.��

“Tell me why you were on the side with everyone under 20.”

“Well, you see, that’s a funny story-”

“I’m not laughing, Nightwing.”

Everyone else is very clearly eavesdropping, they’re all obviously just as curious. And Dick feels like he’s under a microscope. He can feel himself starting to hyperventilate, and he pushes all the panic down and sends his most charming smile to Bruce.

“Can we talk about this at home?” he asks, his voice strained. “Please?”

Batman squeezes his arm a little tighter, then loosens his grip. But he keeps hold of Nightwing’s arm, then drags him to the transport room to take him back to the Batcave without saying a word.

“Please don’t be mad,” Dick begs once they’re back at the Batcave. “It wasn’t - I didn’t do it in purpose! I just, it always changed, everything was happening so fast, and then you brought me home, and you were really nice to me and Alfie was really nice to me and I didn’t want to leave and I was scared you wouldn’t want me anymore and-”

“Dick, Dick you need to breathe,” Bruce tells him, pushing the cowl down and guiding Dick to sit near the Batcomputer. He peels Dick’s mask off slowly, gently, then cups Dick’s cheek in his hand. “Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“You have to promise you won’t hate me,” Dick begs, and he’s so mad that he can feel tears starting to form in his eyes, that his vision is starting to blur a little bit.

“I could never hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

Dick’s voice is strangled, scared. And it breaks Bruce’s heart. Sure, they’ve had their disagreements. And sure, Bruce may have told him to stay with his friends for a while so Bruce could cool down between arguments. But he loves Dick. He’s always loved Dick.

“Please just tell me what’s going on,” Bruce begs. “Because you have no idea how scared I was when I realized you weren’t with us. I thought I’d lost you, that the spell must have made some people disappear entirely. Please, Dickie, just tell me.”

Dick looks at him for a moment, both of them quiet. But then Dick is closing his eyes and tears are falling down his cheeks and he lets out a muffled sob as he holds a fist over his mouth.

“It’s not how I wanted you to find out,” he whines, not opening his eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I didn’t know what to do!”

“You don’t have to know,” Bruce says gently. “Nothing in this family ever seems to go how we originally plan, does it?”

Bruce laughs a little, his smile feeling a little less forced when Dick lets out a wet huff of a laugh.

“They changed the documents all the time so I could perform,” Dick says quickly. “Different cities and countries have different rules, different age minimums. For insurance or something, I dunno. People changed their ages all the time in the circus, I thought it was normal.”

Bruce feels his stomach drop, but he moves to hold Dick’s hands and squeeze them tight.

“How old were you when you came to Gotham?”

“They told me I was eight in Gotham,” he says, but then he opens his eyes. “But they were good parents! It wasn’t anything bad, it was so we could perform together, so we could be a family!”

“I don’t think they were bad parents,” Bruce says quickly. “Not at all. But Dickie, I need to know how old you were, how old you are now. Please.”

“I forgot, at first,” Dick explains. “When you took me in. I just forgot, I swear, I didn’t keep it a secret on purpose. But then my birthday was coming up and you thought I was turning nine and I remembered I wasn’t and I got so scared and I didn’t want you to get rid of me.”

“I would never get rid of you,” Bruce assures him. “And I’m not going to be mad, I promise.”

Dick is quiet for a moment, and he doesn’t say anything until his breathing has evened out, until he’s calmed down and not panicking.

Then he admits in a quiet voice, “I was turning six.”

“So you were five?” Bruce gasps. He’d been kneeling in front of Dick’s seat, and he falls back to sit on his feet, feeling like he had the wind knocked out of him. “Oh God, you were five.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head. Bruce feels like he’s just had ice dumped over his head.

“You’re eighteen right now?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah.”

“Jason is older than you?”

“Barely!” Dick huffs. “Only a few months! You can’t tell him, don’t tell him!”

Bruce smiles then, because leave it to the sibling rivalry to be what gets Dick to snap out of his panic.

“We have to tell them, chum,” he says gently. “You can’t keep it a secret anymore.”

“Why not!”

“Dick,” Bruce sighs. “Do you really want to keep it a secret now? Now that you’ve told me?”

Dick is quiet for a while, but he doesn’t pull his hands away from Bruce.

“And you’re not drinking again until you’re actually 21.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I think it’s plenty fair.”

“You’re being totally lame!” Dick whines. But whatever. Dick will just drink behind his back with his friends like he did before he turned fake-21.

[thirteenheavens]

hiii can you do cockwarming with seungcheol 😽😽

Let’s try to stay like this|| Seungcheol

Word count: 2k

Notes: I’m going to be opening my requests for a day only just to get some messages and new requests <3

Seungcheol pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He nuzzles your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "I've missed you," he murmurs against your skin. "Can I just hold you like this for a while?"

"Of course, Cheol," you reply softly, snuggling closer to him. "I've missed you too." Seungcheol smiles warmly and lifts your hips slightly, positioning himself at your entrance.

"Just stay still and let me feel you," he says huskily. "I want to be inside you, even if we don't move." You slowly sink down onto his cock, both of you moaning at the feeling of being connected. Seungcheol holds you close, his hands roaming over your body as he savors the warmth and tightness of your pussy.

"You feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your chest. "So warm and perfect around me." You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling content and safe in his embrace. Seungcheol kisses your forehead tenderly, his cock twitching slightly inside you.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers. "I'll keep you nice and full for as long as you want." The two of you sit there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Seungcheol's hands occasionally squeeze your hips, but he makes no move to thrust or take control.

"You're so beautiful like this," he says softly, looking up at you with adoration. "So beautiful and mine." Seungcheol's cock throbs occasionally, but he remains still, his patience surprising you. He seems to be genuinely content just having you sit on him, feeling your warmth and closeness.

"I could stay like this forever," he admits, his voice filled with affection. "Just having you near me is enough to make me happy."

"I love you, Cheol," you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. "And I love how gentle you are with me." Seungcheol's grip tightens slightly at your words, and he kisses your shoulder in response.

"I love you too, Y/N," he says softly. "More than anything in this world. You mean everything to me." As time passes, you can feel Seungcheol getting more and more restless beneath you. His breathing becomes heavier, and his hands start to wander lower, gripping your thighs tightly.

"Y/N," he groans, his voice strained. Seungcheol looks up at you with apologetic eyes, his face flushed with arousal.

"I'm sorry, baby," he pants. "I've been trying to hold back, but you're making it so difficult. Your pussy is just squeezing me so tightly."

"You don't have to hold back, Cheol," you say, lifting your hips slightly. "I want you to feel good too." Seungcheol lets out a relieved sigh, his hands moving to grip your hips again.

"Thank god," he mutters. "I was about to lose my mind." With your permission, Seungcheol begins to thrust up into you slowly, his movements careful and controlled. He groans loudly, clearly relieved to finally be able to move.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunts, his fingers digging into your skin. "I've been dreaming of this all day." Seungcheol's pace gradually increases, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful. He buries his face in your chest again, his moans muffled against your skin.

"I'm not going to last long," he warns, his voice muffled. "You're too tight, too perfect." You look down at Seungcheol, his expression a mix of pleasure and concentration. His eyes are half-lidded, and his lips are parted as he moans.

"Look at me, Y/N," he says breathlessly. "I want to see your face when I cum." You keep your gaze locked on his, your own moans mixing with his as he continues to thrust up into you. Seungcheol's pace becomes erratic, his movements becoming more desperate.

"I'm close," he gasps. "So fucking close. Cum with me, baby."

"Cheol, I'm cumming!" you cry out, your walls clenching around him tightly. Seungcheol lets out a deep growl as he feels you tighten around him, his thrusts becoming frantic.

"That's it, baby, that's it," he grunts, his hips stuttering as he reaches his peak. "I'm cumming too, fuck!" Seungcheol pulls you down hard onto his cock as he cums, his hot seed filling you up. He holds you tightly against him, both of you trembling from the intensity of your shared orgasm.

"Y/N," he moans, his voice shaky. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Cheol," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair soothingly. "You did so well for me." Seungcheol nuzzles into your touch, his body still shaking slightly as he comes down from his high. He kisses your chest tenderly, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

[violetcamryn]

HTTYD NSFW ALPHABET - Snotlout Jorgenson (live action ver.)

Snotlout Jorgenson (live action version) x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

AN: For the sake of this post and all future HTTYD posts, Snotlout is at LEAST 18 years old (in my mind, he is early 20’s) . Wrote this because there is not nearly enough content out there for live action Snotlout (or even Snotlout x reader in general). Also darn you Gabriel Howell for re-igniting my HTTYD & Snotlout obsession

A = Aftercare: The KING of aftercare. He’ll run you a hot shower, then hop in with you and help you wash off. All while massaging your shoulders like his life depends on it. Then he’ll tuck you into bed and crawl in with you for the night.

B = Body Part (their favourite on you & on themselves): On himself, it’s his arms (shoulders included). He loves to flex in the mirror and flex to you anytime he gets. You definitely don’t mind though, because he is actually pretty built. On you, it’s your thighs. He loves to rest his head in your lap when you’re alone together, and he’ll just trace meaningless lines up and down your thighs with his fingers. He especially loves when you play with his hair as he’s laying in your lap. He’d never let anybody else see him this vulnerable, but you’re the exception.

C = Cum: INSIDE. I think this man might have a breeding kink…he absolutely loves hitting it raw.

D = Dirty Secret: He likes to be on the bottom every once in a while. He really enjoys when you’re on top, he’ll be looking up at you during sex with those big puppy dog eyes and just letting himself enjoy the moment. He also would not mind if you tied his hands up to experiment, he’s just not confident enough to ask for it yet. None of this is really a secret between the two of you, but it is most certainly a secret to everyone else.

E = Experience: He’s slightly experienced. He used to get around in his mid-to-late-teen years but he didn’t enjoy it much. He sort of saw it as a right-of-passage thing, but when he started dating you things really started to heat up. He’s learned quite a few tricks since you started having sex and he’s a very skilled man now.

F = Favourite Position: If he’s on top, d0ggy. He loves being able to grab your hips and waist while you’re getting it on, and plus he can get a better grip of your hair from behind (🤭). If he’s on the bottom, literally anything. He does not complain. He’s just happy to be there.

G = Goofy: Absolutely goofy at the right times. Definitely not all the time, but he lets a joke go every now and then. He enjoys it when you banter back to him too, it keeps him from worrying that he’s being TOO goofy.

H = Hair:

1) Upstairs He’s a hair puller. He doesn’t like his hair to be pulled, but you both enjoy it when he pulls yours. He would never do it if you weren’t comfortable though, but he knows you love it. However, he does love when you play with his hair after y’all are done having sex. The feeling of your fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp just does something to him.

2) Downstairs He keeps himself well groomed. Not necessarily clean-shaven but he likes it neat and tidy. He doesn’t care whatsoever about what you do with yours, he’s just happy to feel the touch of a woman.

I = Intimacy: He loves when it’s just the two of you in his room, curled up under the blankets, talking late at night. He cherishes those moments with his whole heart. It was hard for him to open up at the beginning, but you’ve slowly chipped away at his walls and now talking to you might just be his favourite thing. He also loves when you two have slow and intimate sex. When you spend time just feeling each-other and not rushing to the finish line.

J = Jerking Off: He used to (a LOT) before you started dating. But now he doesn’t see the point when he’s got such a beautiful girl. He’ll only ever do it if you’re away for a long period of time on some sort of mission. But it’s never the same and he always wishes it was you instead of his hand.

K = Kinks: PRAISE KINK. The moment you call him a “good boy” or tell him how good he makes you feel, he’s in heaven. He thrives on words of affirmation and affection.

L = Location: Anytime, anywhere, except in public. He will always be ready for whenever you want him. He won’t do anything in a public place (because that requires letting his guard down in front of people who aren’t YOU), but any private location he can find, you best believe y’all have fucked there before. His secret location fantasy would be in a secluded hot spring.

M = Motivation: When he sees you after a long day of dragon training, he is immediately in the mood. I mean when is he not in the mood? This man is down bad for his girl.

N = No’s: He will never hit you, even if you ask, it’s a hard line in the sand for him. He also would never be comfortable with having sex in a public space.

O = Oral:

Receiving He’s into it if you’re into it. He would never want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with, but now that he knows YOU enjoy it, he’s all for it. Gets him turned on just thinking about it.

Giving This man is a MUNCH. I cannot see him any other way. He is down bad for his woman and will give and give to your hearts content.

P = Pace: Slow and sensual, or fast and furious. There is no in between for him. It really depends on both of your moods. Some days the only thing he wants is some slow intimacy, and there’s other times where he fucks like a mad man. He will be sure to cater to your wants and desires first and foremost though.

Q = Quickies: Depends. If he’s stressed out and needs to let the feelings out, he is absolutely into it. But most of the time he likes to take his time with you and not rush through. And honestly it’s hard to find a place in Berk that’s appropriately hidden for a quickie.

R = Risks: He is totally into experimenting with you, as long as it’s not one of his “no’s”. But role-play or restraints? Absolutely something he wants to try out.

S = Stamina: He can go multiple rounds most days, but there are some times where he’s just so exhausted from the days work that he’ll go one round, clean you both up, and fall right asleep. It’s not his fault you’re so nice to lay next to, he can’t help that he falls asleep so quickly.

T = Toys: N/A (we’re in viking times people, i’m not introducing medieval torture devices)

U = Unfair: Snotlout is a total tease. He’ll grab your ass in public when he thinks nobody’s looking, and he knows you love it. During sex he’ll ask you dirty questions when he knows you can’t focus enough to answer, just to show himself how good he’s making you feel. However you are also quite the tease. You’ll get him all turned on at an inconvenient time, and you’ll watch him try to focus on the task he was previously doing (and failing miserably now, because all he can think about is you).

V = Vocal: WHINY. I just know this man is vocal and whiny in bed. Deep breathing, grunting, begging, the works. Now that he’s comfortable with you, he makes plenty of noise. He loves when you make noise in bed too, it really turns him on and gives him motivation.

W = Wild Card: He gets wildly jealous when you’re sitting close with any of the other guys. Not like a toxic level of jealousy, just enough that it makes him squirm. Even though he knows neither you nor any of the boys would betray him like that. He’ll always find a way to squeeze in to the conversation and make it about how he’s big and tough (you think it’s hilarious).

X = X-Ray: Above average size in both length and width. Cut. Keeps it well groomed. Safe to say he’s around 8 inches.

Y = Yearning: A secret yearner. He’ll write poems to you and keep them in his journal, never to see the light of day. He wrote so many that he had to get another journal after only a month. He’ll also draw candid sketches of you when you go on dates, and he’ll hesitantly show them to you once he’s finished. You are always sure to praise his drawings every chance you get because they’re actually spectacular. Deep down, he’s always been a romantic. He’d be sure to show you off every chance he got.

Z = Zzz: If you’re playing with his hair, he’s out cold in 5 minutes flat. He used to have a lot of trouble sleeping but not since you two got together. Now he sleeps like a baby (as long as you’re sharing a bed).

Hope you enjoyed! I’m still VERY new to writing smut so i hope this wasn’t too bad or too much. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💗

PS. Snotlout is just a big ol’ softie in my mind. A softie with a hard outer shell. But he’s adorable. A lot of fluff in this post but hopefully there was also enough smut to please y’all 😚 i’ll make GN!reader and M!reader versions eventually too

[revcleo]

100%

I got held so far behind in being able to actually do art by trying to stick to the concepts of "you shouldn't copy art" (studies are fantastic practice) "you're lazy if you don't learn anatomy" (no you don't have to force anatomy into your head you can use reference) "learn colour theory" (you should just draw more from life rather than learning pure rules) "this style is bad art/cringe" (anything can be bad or good it depends on intent and whether you succeed in getting that intent)

it has always been interesting through on how certain communities (such as with adoptables and open/closed species) have been able to create a marketplace which is essentially on trust and the possibility of "I'm not playing any more" with if someone breaks the rules.

at the end of the day i think the online digital artist community has for a very long time operated on a set of like unspoken handshake rules generally enforced by social pressure which (despite being positioned on a moral & pseudolegal plane) have very little overlap with what is legal or illegal (de facto or de jure) but which have Everything to do with figuring The Artist as a universal would-be petit bourgeois auteur, reflected through these rules' emphasis on (1) the moral necessity of The Artist's unwavering & eternal power over their own art (& its reception) as articulated via informal pseudo-IP mechanisms (no reposting, dont tag as me/kin/id, dont use as your pfp, dont draw my oc), (2) the moral mandate toward Constant Self-Improvement (generally meaning adopting more of the conventional signifiers of "Good Art" eg realism) (admonition of "tracing" even for practice, artists who do things that are "not conducive to improvement" being fair game for mockery), & (3) attempting to induce in observers (often through guilt) a social pressure to further the ambitions of such artists ("you need to reblog/share, not just like", "you MUST commission 1 million artists immediately", "it's rude to express anything other than praise for any piece of art")

like these all (in tandem with SEO etc) boil down to attempting to lay the groundwork for an imagined future state of self-employment emanating out of one's (semi-)hobbyist artistry (& to obstruct anything perceived as interfering with that fantasy or its actuation). it's sort of like hiring a team of accountants on the assumption that youre going to win the lottery someday, like if it were in another context we'd effortlessly recognize it for the meritocratic grindset shit that it is. & none of this is even remotely conducive to the production of good art lmao

[deepinthegroves]

random things to script in your dr ౨ৎ

i. being able to keep an obscene amount of things in your pockets… it’s as if your pockets are magically larger on the inside; if anyone ever needs anything, you’d be there, ready to whip it out from your pockets. tissue? you got it. lighter? you got it. …a can of coke? don’t worry, you’ve got the whole six pack! (no one question how...)

ii. your hair length changes as you wish... feel like you wanna chop off your hair? no problem! your hair simply becomes short and long as you feel like. gaslight the people around you too while you're at it – "did you cut your hair?" they ask, as you immediately have it grow longer at a blink of an eye. "what are you talking about?"

iii. having a pet that only you can talk to... whether it be a cat, or dog, or bird, the things that animals see and get away with is immense. ignoring the ethics of this, stay with me now, the amount of information you'd get is incredible.

iv. you disappear from time to time and everyone just accepts it as one of your quirks... it may just be the introvert in me but this is appealing. it doesn't matter where you disappear to – you simply do, like a ghost. one moment you're there, and the next, you're off in some cozy nook that only you have access to.

v. you can turn things shiny with just a touch... think king midas but being able to control it. why? well, because shiny things are pretty! all you need is a brush of your fingers and the will to turn a previously dull thing shiny, whether for the fun of it or because it has a functional (?) purpose.

vi. you can control water, but only small amounts... think dew, rain. and that one ball of water that cleo swallows in h20. how does this work? well, that's up to you. i just think it's a neat little ability that isn't entirely "useful" but can be entertaining.

[angelsafa]

The only post you need to stop doubting.

Hi my loves,

Wdym you are not able to manifest that thing because some thoughts are popping into your head, and are making you doubt, and there's a voice that says that you are not able to do it???

Okay. Let's take a deep breath and relax.

You’ve been feeling like maybe your doubts are blocking your manifestations? Maybe you overthink a lot? Or you feel scared sometimes? Or you’re like "omg do I have to believe everything all the time or else it won't happen 😭😭"??

I got you my angel. I came here to save you hehe

First of all: NO. Your doubts aren’t ruining anything. The only way they “delay” something is if you start BELIEVING them. Like if you go “ugh I feel doubt... that means I won’t manifest” then obviously you're giving power to that version of reality. You’re choosing it. But that doesn’t mean the doubt is the problem — it’s your decision to let it be more important than what you want, yk?

The doubt itself? Harmless. Like a mosquito. Annoying but whatever. Just don’t feed it. That’s it.

You’re not supposed to feel perfect 24/7. You’re not a robot. You’re still pure consciousness, yes, but in a human experience. You get to have thoughts and still manifest instantly. You get to have doubt and still shift. You get to have fear and STILL BE THE MF CREATOR.

You think infinite consciousness is gonna get blocked by a lil anxious thought? Pfft. Be fr.

Now listen to me: You don’t need to believe in the void. You don’t need to believe in yourself. You don’t need to feel like you’re floating in a magical cloud. You just need to decide.

“I have this. It’s done.” That’s it. You decide, and the 3d shifts. Period.

And you already KNOW the 4d is the real reality, right? Sooo... you already shifted. The 3d just has to catch up. That’s literally all.

"B-but S-afa I-im scared the d-doubt is p-pushing i-it away..." My sweet angel. Let me say this lovingly: stfu. (not because I’m mean, but because I love you and you need to snap out of it). You’re too powerful to keep acting like a lost little sheep my sweet angel. YOU’RE A LION BABE. YOU ARE THE DESIGNER OF YOUR REALITY. WAKE UP.

The fear isn’t doing shit. You thinking “the fear is ruining it” is the only thing getting in the way.

Now. About the void, 4D, all that stuff...

Let’s simplify:

4D = your inner world. Your imagination. Your decisions. That’s what’s real. That’s what manifests.

3D = the mirror. The echo. The leftover energy (stop reacting to it. It’s not even real).

The void = your natural state. Pure being. No thoughts. No ego. Just the real YOU. When you’re not playing the “I’m this little human with trauma and fears” game.

Shifting = literally just choosing a different version of you and living from that. That’s it.

(Tbh I don't really belive in those terms because we are simply everything and anything all in one. But I use them so you my sweetcheeks understand it)

And no, you don’t need 100% belief. You don’t need perfect thoughts. You just need to say “I’m in the void because I said so.” And that’s it. DONE.

You think the void is a special club that only chosen ones can enter? My love, YOU ARE the void. You’re it already. You’ve just been pretending you’re not. Or maybe you forgot. Idk.

So... stop pretending, and remember who you truly are.

Be like: “lol okay yeah I feel scared and got doutbts rn but that doesn’t mean shit. I still get what I want. It’s already mine.”

You’re not affirming for fun. You’re not persisting for the aesthetic. And certainly you are not faking anything. You’re doing it because YOU ARE THE CREATOR and the 3D literally has to obey you.

You wanna manifest in the void? Go in. Say “I’m there.” That’s enough. There’s no waiting. There’s no test. It’s yours.

You wanna manifest in the 4D while still thinking random negative thoughts? Cool. Do it. Because YOU are the one deciding what’s real and what isn’t. And those couple of shitty thoughts won't do anything to the manifestation sweetie.

So now tell me, are you gonna keep crying over a thought that says "but what if it doesn’t work?" OR are you gonna laugh and say "anywayyy it’s already done so shut up?"

Your choice.

Now go be delulu, go script like crazy, go feel it, go DECIDE. Go live in the 4D like your life depends on it (bc spoiler: it kinda does). The 3D is just the old news. Boring. Let it catch up. (Or well, tbh it doesn't even need to because manifestation is instant lol).

You’re the void. You’re the imagination. You’re the power. You're everything.

So go and act like it!!

And I better see you out there ACTUALLY manifesting and not procrastinating!! Stop with reading the same information, that is just written with different words in blogs. You already know all you need.

Oh and I better read your success stories soon, you hear me my sweet angels?? Because you literally got this. Like you are the designer of your reality do you realize that??!!

Anyways, remember who you are, and you got this my loves!

Lots lots lots of love,

Safa

[cherie-doll]

Think about CoD guys getting knocked out on the battlefield and when they wake up, the medic they have a crush on is carrying them out of the field back to the chopper. Perhaps princess style

Does it make sense? No. Is it safe? Also no. But it is funny

bet you medic searched up and read "how to carry a girl: the most romantic methods" on wikihow and decided to use it on the battlefield

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men Getting Carried Princess Style

:‹ Last thing Price remembered doing was reporting his status over radio before hearing the panicked voices of Laswell and the others. He knew he was in good hands with his teammates but he didn't expect to see your face when he woke up. He also did not expect you to be carrying him, and he hadn't even realized until he was finally able to tear his eyes away from your face and see your arms and hands around his body. He doesn't know whether to thank or curse Laswell for sending you out to pick him up.

:‹ Simon waking up in a state of confusion. Because no one has been able to carry him with this much ease, especially not in this princess style. Usually he gets the rough treatment of getting thrown over a shoulder and that's it. But you're even careful to make sure he's not being rocked too hard while you're holding him. He's far too dazed to say or do anything much so he just lets it happen. Doesn't say or ask anything as you rush to treat him, knowing you'll be too focused. Won't talk or bring it up. ever. You're both taking this to the grave.

:‹ For Johnny it's heaven, just don't let the others see him getting carried out like this it'll wound his pride. He'll be bragging about it later like: "Oh you got treated by [medic]? Ha, well I got-" and he pauses there because suddenly his face has gone red and he doesn't know if it's worth sacrificing his pride and dignity just to rub it in someone else's face that he got carried by THE hot medic everyone likes so therefore he's winning in life but at what cost??

:‹ Kyle going "funny seeing you here" as if he had casually run into you at the grocery store and not in the middle of the battlefield. This guy is trying to flirt with you and have some casual conversation while you're trying to keep his wounds from gushing blood out. You don't know whether he's already losing his mind from the injuries he got or if he's trying to distract himself from the pain because this isn't like him. But maybe him being on the verge of going out again makes him say weird things. He won't remember this after medication.

:‹ Roach passing out thinking they're gonna forget him and accidentally leave him out here without receiving medical assistance until he wakes up and it's like an angel (you) has come to save him. He's impressed that you're not letting any obstacles stop you from running at a full sprint to the chopper with him in your arms. He's even going to bring it together by wrapping his arms around your neck to make sure he doesn't fall and staying still. Honestly, he liked it a little too much, so watch out or smth idk.

:‹ Alejandro getting a jump scare when he sees you carrying him. This was the last place he expected to see you. He absolutely hates getting any kind of coddling done, especially not in front of others. Even if you try telling him that no one even noticed you carrying him out like a knight protecting their princess because everyone else was busy fighting for their survival but he won't have any of it. Would demand you put him down right then and there in the bare dirt but you simply roll your eyes and ignore him.

:‹ Rodolfo being carried like the princess he is isn't a want it's a NEED. Had he been awake and conscious when you ran out to get him, he would have tried convincing you to leave him for his safety. He'd rather have waited for another teammate to reach him rather than you endanger yourself dodging bullets just to get to him. Even when he was knocked out did he look peaceful. He'd probably just be confused as to why you're carrying him but wouldn't protest or try to get out of your arms until you set him down.

:‹ Phillip knew he could always count on his Shadows to save his hide when shit happened. And he knew the attractive medic back at the base would be more than willing to treat him. He couldn't wait to see that face of yours when he got back, oh the things he'd tell you about his latest operation (the little information he could reveal). But he wasn't expecting to wake up so close to you, or at least not like this, when he's all battered, rugged and bruised. He can already picture his Shadows snickering if they ever saw him like this and he's really hoping they're busy with their tasks instead. It's strange to you how quiet he's gotten all of a sudden until you set him down and AFTER he ensures its only the two of you he starts trying to flirt as you roll your eyes at him.

:‹ Makarov didn't think anyone would come and get him out of the mess he had created. There was so much debris and chaos around him that even he had a difficult time thinking about how to get out of this one. Just as his vision started to blur and fade away, he saw you walking towards him. He hadn't actually expected to need you to do your job as medic and treat his wounds, much less be carried as he was told later on. He isn't annoyed not even in the slightest and if anything is sort of 'touched'? that you carried him from the battlefield all bloody to the helicopter. He might have gotten an idea and request you continue doing this, but no way are you doing that again, you swear you must've pulled a muscle or something.

:‹ Keegan is cursing himself as he lies bleeding and hurt in a building that could collapse at any moment for letting his mind wander for one second and get distracted. Of course his mind just HAD to betray him and think of you just because he noticed how unusually pretty the sky was. So is it a coincidence that he wakes up to find himself in your arms? You feel his intense stare but you don't allow yourself to look down. Even as he feels rumbling around him, pain numbing his senses, and the ear-splitting sounds of war, he doesn't let it distract him enough to tear his eyes away from you and the untainted sky that served as a backdrop.

:‹ König's secret fantasy is being treated like a princess. You look at him and think a guy like him wants to be feared and demands respect. Actually, no. The only person he'd want attention from all the time if you. Not in the "I'm important pay attention to me" type of way but in a soft, intimate way in which only you would care for him. So he wakes up to the delusion of thinking you're using all your strength to carry him and he looks at you like you're his savior when in reality it's two other men helping you by supporting his legs and back.

:‹ Horangi would barely be conscious and assume its one of his teammates that is carrying him. He dislikes getting picked up by anyone other than König (despite the fact König hates going so) so he starts moving until he hears your sharp voice which jerks him awake. He thinks he must be dreaming but he couldn't mistake your voice or face for anyone else. Lowkey is into it, curls up in your arms thinking he's small enough to fit even though he's not and you're struggling. He even attempts to lay his head on your shoulder until you throw him onto a stretcher.

:‹ Nikto grunts as he feels himself getting picked up, but instead of that rough manhandling he usually gets from a fellow teammate he feels efficient hands quickly wrap around him, yet they feel so tender too. The way those hands don't pull or drag his limbs carelessly, he knows it might be delusional getting his hopes up already imagining who it could be. He decides to open his eyes and expects to be disappointed if it isn't the person he expects. But he's quite delighted to see it is you. You don't take the time to look down at him because you're too busy trying to hurry and make it back in one piece with the man in your arms to notice his lazy smile as he closes his eyes, assured you'll take good care of him.

[what-username-where]

I still have never started a relationship without being asked out BY someone, and then not believing them until they repeatedly tell me that yes they ARE actually serious

and then I spend the entire time thinking oh god oh fuck when is the other shoe gonna drop when are they gonna start laughing at me for being so gullible to believe they actually liked me and reveal this was all an elaborate prank the entire time or that they just found me useful enough to put up with and play along so I'd keep doing things for them

Which unfortunately the only people who ever asked me out were a pedo, an entitled manipulative self centered emotional abuser, and a wildly out of control mentally ill asshole

All of whom I got incredibly attached to and planned on marrying and building my entire life around because at least having someone to indulge my highly romantic sappy touchy self would be better than just yearning from the sidelines my whole life and watching other people get things I'd dreamed about being able to have but never thought would actually be possible for me

because there was something innately wrong with me that other people saw but I didn't and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't fix it or even identify the problem

so I had to give up everything I possibly could give in order to make myself worth putting up with for other people and if I didn't I would spend the rest of my life isolated and alone because no one would want to be around me unless I was of sufficient benefit and service to them

Needless to say none of my exes helped that feeling at all

I still struggle deeply with it and have slowly come to accept that my friends are here because they genuinely enjoy me

but I still have the intense problems around romance and romantic relationships and feeling like the only way I'll ever have something close to what I want is by doing it myself quite literally and relying on my system for it

which while being amazing and wonderful and I love my system so much it still has some things that are physically impossible to do and thus leaves me with a longing just the same, whether that's a longing for another body for them to inhabit or longing for another person to be romantically interested in me both of which feel equally impossible

because no other person could possibly want to be anything romantic with me without either not knowing what they're getting into and later wanting to back out or wanting to take advantage of me because they know I'll stick around serving them a feast if they toss a breadcrumb my way once in a while

Which no amount of logic and comforting and repeating positive phrases and reassuring myself "I don't need a romantic relationship to be fulfilled as a person and that's a really toxic attitude to have" has ever really made go away despite my best efforts and years of therapy both professional and self guided

Man if you did that bullshit as a kid where you fake asked someone out to embarrass them or said your friend liked them I hope that shit haunts you somewhere inside now. I hope you know that never leaves the person you did that too. I've been out of school for 8 blessed fucking years and I still do not believe people when they say they like me or are attracted to me. Doing that shit straight up makes you a bad person. You completely destroy someone's ability to perceive themselves as loveable.

[andcars]

🍷 ✦ DRIVERS AND THEIR FAVOURITE KINKS

ft. VER, HAM, RUS, RIC, LEC, SAR, PIA, SAI, COL, BEA /> FREE PATREON ONLY IMAGINES ! SHORT PREVIEWS BELOW

radio "comments and reblogs are much appreciated!"

MAX VERSTAPPEN ──── Body Worship This man loves to worship you. Max will take all the time in the world just to be able to kiss your neck down to your sex.

LEWIS HAMILTON ──── Mirror Sex It almost feels narcassistic but he just loves looking at you as he fucks you through it all.

GEORGE RUSSELL ──── Shower Sex Maybe it's because he's a bit more particular with cleaning yourselves up after, but he just likes to do it in the shower.

CHARLES LECLERC ──── Exhibitionism It's risky, it's probably bad, but he just loves showing you off. Nothing compares knowing that the entire world knows you're down bad for him and he is to you.

DANIEL RICCIARDO ──── Thigh Riding/Hand Kink/Anything related to his fucking tattoos He probably thinks his tattoos are just part of his identity, something he likes about himself and something he shows off.

LOGAN SARGEANT ──── Virginity Kink It was his that you took, actually. He loves the fact you took his first and the thought almost made him cum immediately when it was happening.

OSCAR PIASTRI ──── Breeding Kink Even he didn't know how into it he'd be when you brought it up. Casually, you told him to cum inside of you during sex.

CARLOS SAINZ ──── Strength Kink He knows that you're into his muscles, there's no doubt to it. It just so happens he's into you being into his muscles.

FRANCO COLAPINTO ──── Dirty talking Nothing else could have been perfect with him. He's a sweet talker, Franco loves to talk. So when he has the opportunity to tease you all night, only using his words, he'll do it.

OLLIE BEARMAN ──── Overstimulation He looks innocent, seriously innocent. But when he has you in his bed, he makes sure that you're not going to leave until you're shaking and crying from how many orgasms he gave you.

────── FULL WORK HERE

@Delululeclerc @coconut-dreamz @hiireadstuff @fallingforpvris @rtorresblog @Tribbisweetdear @Jamie2305 @Yunnie-f1 @yourmommyagone22 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144 @bulletlovedie

[kandlewick]

janitor yuu au! kalim who is finally able to travel back home for the holidays since he wasn't able to during winter break due to... circumstances quite literally out of his control. jamil is also with him and regardless of the twos still rocky relationship, they're both wiling to have some kind of truce while visiting family.

and now kalim finds himself at a loss as everything he's so used to doing for himself is now being done on his behalf. instead of the same few outfits to rotate through, now he has servants waiting at his beck and call to garb him in a brand new outfit every day, each more luxurious then the next. food is now brought to him, fresh and warm and spiced to perfection but he feels selfish now to admit he misses the way you cooked, with the slightly burned ends and the faint taste of plastic from the tupperware. he misses the familiar fabric of his now worn out cardigan. the close weaving had begun to separate and he had just started being able to fit his fingers through the yarn and it wrapped around his fingers so securely it felt like a warm hug.

he felt selfish here, laying on his fancy bed with the canopy and thick comforter, pillows galore, because despite being back in luxury, he missed the familiarity of the ramshackle dorm and the janitor and grim. he missed having choices. he missed having control.

jamil finds him sneaking out in the middle of the night and he reluctantly follows, his footsteps light as the two of them made their way to the kitchen.

everything was quiet now, the servants having been long dismissed, and kalim felt himself let out a sigh of relief. nobody was there to stop him. with an almost excited pep to his step, he made his way in to the heavily stocked pantry and began his search. he felt bad, but the food that was given to him for dinner was too rich, it made his stomach hurt, and he found that his palette wasn't as fond of fancier food now that he's had the simpler things.

"you're not going to find anything like what the janitor has stored away in ramshackle if that's what you're looking for."

the sound of jamil's voice startled kalim enough that he slammed his head against a shelf. his hands immediately flew up to cradle his skull and he let out a sharp whine. he looked up at jamil with tears in his eyes but brightened when he saw him leaving against the door frame, arms crossed with a familiar unamused expression on his face. kalim was quick to straighten himself to his full height and gave his friend(?) a nervous smile. no matter how jamil felt about him, kalim couldn't help but think of him as his closest friend in spite of everything.

"ah, uhm! i figured!" kalim let out a small laugh. his hands reached to nervously fidget at the loose yarn of his cardigan but found nothing, only the silky smooth fabric of a new shawl over his shoulders. the thinness of it left him feeling exposed. "all the food the servants made was really good but i felt it was a bit too much! ever since i've lived in ramshackle, i've gotten so use to eating—"

"you're so use to eating scraps now that you decided to raid the servant's kitchens to see if you could find something to reassure yourself that you weren't 'becoming spoiled' again?" jamil's tone was icy again, like from back when they argued, and kalim felt himself unintentionally shrinking in on himself. jamil continued, "and then, because you dont know the first thing about anything, you were going to get me to make whatever silly thing the janitor could scrounge up with left over tuna and some eggs so you could sit in the kitchen and eat it up and think to yourself 'wow im such a good person, having learned to enjoy the simpler things in life' all while going back to your room and sleeping like a little baby, safe and cuddled up in your several thousand thaumark sheets, spoiled rotten beyond belief—"

"you're right," kalim nodded, "i am spoiled."

"but i've also learned how meaningless a lot of this is." kalim's shoulders slumped, "did you know that there were servants whose entire job was to make sure my bathwater wasn't too hot or too cold? I didn't," he laughed, "i just thought the water came out perfect every time."

he remembered his first cold shower in ramshackle and how he sneezed and sneezed and sneezed. he remembered how the janitor had made him some chalky hot cocoa to help warm himself up and that it was the tastiest thing he had had all day. he remembers them wrapping him up in several ratty blankets and reassuring him that he would get use to it.

"the first cold shower is always the worst. so is the second. and so is the third. but eventually it will be ok."

"is it ok for you?"

the janitor hadn't said anything then, only offered him a small smile and a shrug before grim stole their attention away from him.

kalim blinked. he was back in the present.

"i spent my whole life having someone do everything for me and i thought that it was normal. that it was ok because i didn't know how to do anything properly and i didn't! but nobody would let me try. nobody let me fail. the only person who ever trusted me with my own choices was them."

"if i even so much as picked up a bread knife, you or some other servant would pluck it from my hands. saying things like, 'oh thats too dangerous for you' or 'don't worry kalim i've got it handled.' and i've suffered because of it!" he looked down at his hands and finally felt a sense of comfort in the cheap, colorful band aids that were wrapped around his fingers. burn marks, cuts, bruises, all things he never got to experience here in the palace or even in his own dorm.

his choices, his own choices.

"i am spoiled, jamil, you're right, but unlike you, i want to change. im tired of having everyone do everything for me. i want to cook my meals and make my own bed. i want to study hard and succeed where i let myself fail because i knew i had you to count on. i want to be able to rely on myself, jamil so if you'll excuse me im going to make a tuna and butter sandwich on stale bread."

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 7 - in transition]

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: Paige and Azzi said it was over.

Boundaries drawn, feelings shelved, rules in place. But with every game, every glance, every unexpected moment off the court, the line gets harder to hold. They agreed to stop, but how long can they mean it? Word count: 5,577 Author's note: first, I'd like to thank everyone for reading this fic. i'm overwhelmed but very happy with the comments, messages, and reactions. i didn't know a lot are reading this nonsense, but thank you! second (and you may not want to hear this), i may not update for a couple of weeks. i am going on a trip so i'm not sure i'll be able to do so. i hope you'll still want to read this if it's not frequently update until third week of july. third (if you're also reading my other on-going), unfolded will be updated but i also apologize it will not be that frequent due to the same reason above. thanks for supporting and reading my works.

Fudd Holdings, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The sky outside her windows had settled into its noon haze, but Azzi hadn’t looked up from her desk in hours. Her monitor cast a soft glow across the dark wood, spreadsheets opened and minimized in equal measure. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, scrolling through a document she had already reviewed twice that morning. 

The knock on her door was brief. Nika stepped in without waiting for permission, balancing a takeout bag and two bottled teas in her hands. 

“I know you didn’t eat again,” Nika said as she shut the door behind her. “And I’m not letting you call a candy bar lunch.” 

Azzi sat back in her chair, one brow lifting. “You’re persistent.” 

“I work for a woman who hasn’t taken a real lunch break in ten days,” Nika replied, placing the food down. “Persistent is the bare minimum.” 

Azzi didn’t argue. She slid the papers to the side and reached for the tea, unscrewing the cap but not drinking yet. Across the desk, Nika opened the takeout containers with practiced ease. 

“How is your WNBA team?” Nika asked without looking up. “Season started last week.” 

Azzi didn’t flinch, though the pause before her answer was longer than usual. “Lisa’s handling things,” she said. “It’s her role as general manager, and she’s doing it well. I step in only if I'm needed.” 

Nika glanced up, reading more than what was said. “Good for her but that’s not the same as you supporting them.” 

“I’m busy.” 

“With what?” Nika didn’t soften her tone. “All deadlines are in. Contracts are locked through next quarter. We’re ahead of schedule with every major client. Even your advisory meeting next week was rescheduled by you.” 

Azzi set the tea down, untouched. 

“You’re not too busy to show your face at a home game, Azzi. And neither the team nor the city thinks you’re invisible. So if this is about being busy, I don’t buy it.” 

Azzi held her posture, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. But the pause spoke more than anything else. 

Nika watched her for another beat before easing back into her chair, unpacking a fork from its wrapper.  

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “But don’t pretend like this is just scheduling. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

The room stretched between them, filled with paper, food, and the weight of everything unspoken. 

Azzi finally reached for the container, though she still hadn’t eaten a bite. Her voice stayed level, careful. “Lisa knows what she’s doing.” 

“Sure,” Nika said, spearing a piece of grilled chicken. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t still look for you.” 

-    Valkyries Headquarters, San Francisco. May 2025. 

Practice was nearly over, but Paige hadn’t slowed once. She moved through the drills like they were personal, like every missed shot meant something more than just another rep. Her jersey clung to her back, soaked through from the effort. While the rest of the team eased off, she kept pressing. 

“Okay, Paige, you trying to earn Finals MVP in practice?” Kate called, grabbing a towel from the bench. 

Paige gave a quick laugh. “Just keeping sharp.” 

Kiki, lounging near the sideline with her water bottle, chimed in without lifting her head. “If this is about Rookie of the Year, relax. I’m not trying to take it from you.” 

“I just want to do well. Don’t want to let the team down.” 

Kate tossed her towel over her shoulder and walked past. “You’re not. We’ve got your back. So maybe stop trying to bleed for every drill.” 

Paige nodded, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even look toward the locker room when the others started filing out. She stayed at the three-point line, adjusted her stance, and kept shooting. 

The gym thinned out, noise fading as bodies left the floor. Lights still buzzed overhead. The sound of the ball hitting the rim echoed louder in the emptying space. 

One more shot. Then another. She moved like she could outwork the ache settling deep in her chest. 

- 

Barclays Center, Brooklyn. June 2025. 

The arena buzzed with rising energy. Lights swept across the court, catching on polished shoes and tailored jackets. Courtside filled with the usual rotation of executives, celebrities, and carefully groomed donors. 

Azzi sat quietly among them, legs crossed, her posture composed. Ines sat on one side, Tony on the other. Neither drew attention. 

Three nights earlier, New York liberty owner, Clara Wu had attended the foundation’s gallery fundraiser uptown.  

Toward the end of the event, in the space between polite farewells and final handshakes, Clara had asked if Azzi would be attending the Liberty vs Valkyries game. It hadn’t sounded like pressure, but Azzi understood the subtext. Clara rarely asked for anything directly. 

Azzi had smiled and said yes. She didn’t want to appear distant or detached, not while her team was in town, not so early in the season. By the next morning, Ines had secured the only tickets still available.  

Courtside, unfortunately. 

Across the floor, the Valkyries were already deep in warmups, moving through drills with controlled intensity.  

Paige stayed near the top of the arc, locked into rhythm, her eyes focused straight ahead. If she noticed Azzi’s presence, she didn’t show it.    The game had turned brutal in rhythm and pace.  

The Liberty held a five-point lead, and the crowd rode every possession like a wave, roaring with each defensive stop and every made shot. Bodies hit the floor more often now. Elbows flared. Timeouts were used sparingly. 

Paige moved with urgency. Her focus locked on the ball like nothing else existed. Sweat clung to her temples, her movements crisp and tight, no motion wasted.  

When a tipped pass ricocheted off a defender’s arm and spun wildly toward the sideline, she didn’t hesitate. 

She dove. 

The hardwood scraped beneath her as she slid forward, arms reaching, hands wrapping around the ball just before it could bounce out of bounds. But her momentum kept going. Her body skidded past the line, straight toward the courtside seats. 

She crashed at Azzi’s feet, shoulder brushing against her legs before she caught herself. 

“Shit—sorry,” Paige breathed, looking up. Her voice came low and rushed, all heat and adrenaline. 

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, calm and unreadable. 

For a second, the noise in the arena blurred behind them. 

Then the whistle blew. Paige scrambled up, tossed the ball to a teammate, and jogged back onto the court. 

Azzi didn’t look away right away. The faint trace of contact lingered in her skin. But her face gave nothing back. 

-    Team bus on the way to the airport, New York. June 2025.  

The internet had caught fire. 

Clips of Paige diving out of bounds and crashing at Azzi’s feet spread across every platform.  

Slow-motion edits looped the way Paige looked up at her, the brief glance that passed between them, the stillness of Azzi’s expression.  

Screenshots froze the frame at just the right second, turning a routine hustle play into something cinematic. 

Fans called it poetic. Dramatic. Predictable in the way only stories you couldn’t write better in fiction tended to be. 

“This is gay history,”  

“She literally landed at her feet. You cannot make this shit up.” 

“It’s giving princess and her knight,” another caption declared beneath a still of Paige on the floor, Azzi seated above her, untouched, statuesque. 

#ValkyriesCourtship alongside #PrincessAndTheHooper trended before the fourth quarter highlights even aired. 

Even sports media picked it up. A panel segment ran on afternoon television, showing side-by-side clips with commentary that couldn’t resist the subtext.  

ESPN headlined it “better than anything on Netflix.” 

Paige had seen enough of it by the time she reached the team bus. Her phone hadn’t stopped buzzing, but she left it face down on the bench.  

Kiki had sent her the clip with three crying emojis and “Oscar-worthy fall.” 

Kate pulled up another edit as she sat beside Paige, this one layered with a ballad and a dramatic fade to black. 

“You good?” 

“It was just a save.” 

“Sure. You threw yourself at the sideline like a knight charging into battle and landed at Miss Fudd's feet like you meant to bow.” 

Paige adjusted her hoodie without answering. 

Behind them, Kiki laughed. 

“She’s blushing.” 

She didn’t turn around. If she was, she wasn’t giving them the satisfaction. 

- 

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

Las Azzi stared at her calendar, one hand pressed to her temple, the other resting over her laptop’s trackpad. The confirmation email sat open in front of her, clear as day. 

She leaned back slowly in her chair, eyes narrowing. 

There was no way this wasn’t deliberate. 

The Valkyries were playing the Aces. In Las Vegas. Tonight. And somehow, despite the number of ways she had tried to avoid repeating last week’s coincidence, here she was again. Same city. Same schedule. Same team. 

She remembered Nika casually handing off the file three days ago. Something about a last-minute scheduling conflict, how the developers were pushing for face time, how it made sense for Azzi to take. At the time, it hadn’t sounded strange. 

Now it did.    Another email which held two tickets to the game had found its way to Azzi.    Right. 

It wouldn’t look good if she didn’t show up to the game. Not when people knew she was in the city. 

If Nika and Ines had planned this, they weren’t going to admit it. But Azzi knew them both too well.  

She should have seen this coming. 

- 

Michelob ULTRA Arena, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

The game was tight. The Aces pushed in transition, fast and aggressive, but the Valkyries kept pace, sharp in their switches and relentless on the glass. The score stayed close, every possession carrying weight. 

Azzi sat still through it all. Close enough to feel the vibrations under her heels. She didn’t react. Didn’t lean in. Just watched. 

Paige was everywhere. Fighting through screens, calling switches, sinking shots like she was burning through something no one else could see. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t ease up. 

When she hit a three just outside the arc, her eyes searched briefly beyond the baseline. 

Azzi met the look. 

The moment was brief. The game pressed forward.  

- 

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

The machine clinked quietly as Paige pressed the button again. Lights blinked. Nothing hit. She reached into the cup and slid another coin in. 

The Valkyries had pulled off the win. A tight, scrappy six-point finish that left the Aces frustrated and the bench breathing hard. 

Paige had smiled when she needed to. Nodded during the interviews. Let her teammates pull her into the photo. But once it was done, she slipped out early and didn’t look back. 

She found herself now hunched at a forgotten corner of the casino floor, staring through the slot machine like it owed her an answer she couldn't phrase. 

A pause behind her, then Azzi’s voice. 

“You know I’m not paying you to lose your money on a stupid machine.”    Paige slid in another coin and pressed the button, not bothering to turn around. The reels spun and missed again. 

“I know you’re ignoring me,” Azzi continued. “And I deserve that. But I wanted to say congratulations. You were great tonight.” 

Paige’s eyes stayed on the machine. “Hm, ‘s that all?”     Azzi wanted to say more. To sit down, to explain, to ask for something she hadn’t figured out how to name yet. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure if she should say more or walk away. The noise around them was constant—machines whirring, voices rising and falling, the usual chaos of a casino floor. It wasn’t the right place for this type of conversation.    “Yes. Have a good night, Paige.” 

Azzi moved through the casino without looking back, weaving past clusters of tourists and cocktail servers until she reached the elevators.  

One had just arrived. She stepped inside, pressed her floor, and leaned back against the wall as the doors began to close. 

A hand shot through at the last second. 

The doors jerked open. 

Paige stood there, a little breathless, eyes steady. She stepped in without asking and let the doors slide shut behind her. 

“D'you already have dinner?” 

Azzi shook her head. 

Paige glanced at the buttons, then back at her. 

“Wanna order room service with me?”    - 

The coffee table was a mess of wrappers and half-crumpled napkins. Paige leaned back into the couch, one leg tucked under the other, working through the last of the fries like it was a timed competition. 

Azzi watched from the armchair, equal parts fascinated and horrified.  

She had offered a quiet space for their impromptu dinner since Kiki was already asleep in Paige's room. 

Paige had inhaled three burgers in under fifteen minutes and was now making quick work of the fries without so much as a breath. 

Azzi reached for her untouched sandwich, glanced at it, then looked back at Paige. 

“Do you want mine too?” 

Paige didn’t even pause. “What is it?” 

“That was sarcasm.” 

“You’re gonna need to be more specific if food’s involved.” 

Azzi shook her head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m genuinely alarmed.” 

“You’ve seen me play,” Paige said through a mouthful of fries. “How is this surprising?” 

“You didn’t unhinge your jaw during the game.” 

Paige grinned, tossed a fry in the air, and caught it with her mouth.  

Azzi sighed and reached for the water bottle on the table but didn’t drink. Her gaze lingered on Paige, still working through the fries like nothing in the world could distract her. 

“You’ve been playing really well lately,” she said. “The last few games especially.” 

Paige slowed her chewing just a little. “Oh.” 

Azzi smiled. 

“I mean, thanks. I didn’t know you were watching.” 

There was a pause. Azzi could have let it pass, could have deflected or changed the subject, but the quiet between them felt too close to something real to lie through. 

“I haven’t missed a game,” she said. “Even if I’m not there, I watch. Every one of them.” 

Paige blinked, then looked down, a trace of pink blooming along her cheeks as she reached for another fry she clearly didn’t need. 

Sitting with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, Azzi’s eyes fixed on the untouched sandwich beside her. The weight between them had been there the whole night, carefully unspoken, but now it pressed harder, closer.    “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For what happened. For how it happened. It wasn’t fair to you. If I could take it back... I would.” 

Paige didn’t answer right away. She wiped her hands clean with a napkin, taking her time, then leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. 

“I don’t regret kissing and making out with you that night,” she said.  

Azzi finally looked at her. 

“I only regret putting you in a position. You were already carrying too much, and I pushed you when I should’ve backed off. That’s on me.” Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry for that.” 

Azzi shook her head slowly, the words already forming before Paige could say anything more. “No. Paige, I was the one who kissed you.” 

“And I kissed you back.” 

Azzi looked away, lips pressed together for a moment before she spoke again. 

“I let my emotions get the best of me. That night... I wasn’t thinking clearly.” 

“That’s exactly my regret,” Paige leaned back slightly, eyes holding firm. “I didn’t stop to think what you were going through. I shouldn’t have let it go that far when I knew you weren’t steady.”    She stood up abruptly. “God! Azzi, you just had to deal with your brother that night and all I could think was myself and my stupid ego.”    Azzi’s brow lifted, disbelief flickering across her face. 

“You’ve really been carrying this like it’s on you?” 

"Well...” 

Azzi motioned to the couch. “Sit down.” 

Paige hesitated but did as she was told, settling into the cushion with a quiet breath. 

“Listen,” Azzi started, her tone even but not cold. “I don’t know why you’re blaming yourself, but don’t. And if it makes you feel better, I appreciate your thoughts about me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s cared enough to think about what I’m feeling.” 

She paused, eyes fixed forward. 

“But I’m not going to lie. We’re re-opening something we shouldn’t cross again.” 

Paige sat still, her body tight, listening. 

“We started on the wrong path, Paige. And if we keep walking it, it’s going to lead both of us somewhere we won’t come back from. Whatever this was, we can’t keep going. There’s too much at stake. Not just for me. For you too.” 

Paige kept her gaze on the floor, jaw tight. The words weren’t new. Not really. She had imagined this conversation too many times—Azzi choosing control over closeness, reason over feeling. But now that it was happening, the actual weight of it pressed in deeper than she expected. 

She had been holding on to guilt, turning it over in her head like a stone she thought she could smooth down if she just kept at it long enough. But hearing Azzi say it out loud, the finality of her tone, made it clear that nothing she’d been carrying would change the ending. 

Still, it stung. 

It stung to be told they had started on the wrong path when it had been the only one that felt right. 

She nodded slowly, barely. 

“Okay,” she said, though it didn’t feel like one. 

- 

Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The Valkyries were rolling. Eleven wins, three losses. The best start of any expansion team in league history. Their chemistry was sharp, execution cleaner with every game, and the league had started paying attention. 

Paige was a headline regular now. Her stats held weight, her plays made highlight reels, and the noise around her name had shifted from hopeful to certain. Rookie of the Year wasn’t just possible—it was probable. 

All-Star voting opened with her name already at the top of the ballots. 

She felt it, the momentum. The lift of it. Practices ran smoother, her body felt lighter, even the travel days didn’t drag. 

But that talk in Las Vegas hadn’t left her. 

Azzi hadn’t shown up to a game since. Not once. Not even for the home stands. 

The gym had emptied out over an hour ago, but Paige was still there, catching her own rebounds, the steady rhythm of the ball echoing through the quiet space. Her body moved on instinct—one dribble, two, rise, release. Net. Repeat. 

She wasn’t tired. Not enough to stop. 

The sound of the door clicking open didn’t pull her attention right away. Only when footsteps drew closer did she finally glance toward the baseline. 

Azzi stood just inside, arms crossed, the faintest trace of something amused in her voice. 

“Practice ended a while ago. If you’re staying this long, I should start charging you gym maintenance.” 

Paige caught the ball and held it. Her breathing slowed as she turned to face the person living rent free in her head for the past couple of months. 

She let the ball rest against her hip, then spun it slowly in one hand. 

“I don’t want to slack,” she said. “We’re on a five-game win streak. Last thing I need is my boss getting mad I’m not putting it all out there.” 

She looked up, a flicker of something teasing behind her eyes. 

“Last I heard, she never misses watching our games.” 

Azzi scoffed, stepping forward without hesitation. She plucked the ball from Paige’s hand like it belonged to her.    “You really think flattery’s going to make me overlook the fact that you’re hogging the gym?” 

Paige grinned and walked backward toward the free throw line, holding out her hand, shrugging. “If I said I was staying late to honor the legacy of the franchise, would that make it better?” 

Azzi turned the ball slowly in her hands. “It might make it worse.” 

Paige laughed, stepping back with a bounce in her step. “I’m just trying to keep the lights on. You know, making sure your multi-million dollar floor space stays in good use.” 

“I should charge you rent.” 

“Add it to my contract,” Paige said, motioning toward the court. “Tell you what. You make one shot, I’ll clear out.” 

Azzi tilted her head. “You think I’m just going to embarrass myself for your amusement?” 

“I think you’re dying to see if you can make one,” Paige said, voice low and teasing. “Come on. You’re standing on the floor of your own team’s gym, and you’ve never even taken a shot?” 

Azzi stared at her for a long second, then shook her head and let out a sigh. 

“You’re relentless.” 

Paige grinned and walked toward the free throw line, tossing the ball up and catching it. “One shot. I promise I won’t tell the world. Unless it’s perfect.” 

Azzi followed her slowly, arms folded. 

“This is ridiculous.” 

“This is team bonding.” 

“You’re not my team.” 

“I’m your headache. Close enough.” 

Azzi let out a breath, finally taking the ball back. “Fine. But I’m blaming you when this ruins my reputation.” 

Paige stepped in, already adjusting her grip. “If anything, this is gonna make it better.”    Azzi stared at the hoop like it was challenging her. She adjusted her grip on the ball, stepped awkwardly toward the free throw line, and squared her shoulders like she had watched athletes do a hundred times from the sidelines. 

She launched. 

It left her fingers too flat, spinning awkwardly in the air before clanking off the front rim and bouncing back with a dull thud. 

Paige bit her lip, then broke into a jog to chase it down before it rolled out of bounds. 

“That was…” She paused, dribbling the ball once. “A very brave attempt.” 

Azzi crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

“I’m not.” Paige grinned. “I’m saying you’re clearly an expert at hitting the exact part of the rim that guarantees it won’t go in.” 

She walked the ball back, but instead of handing it over, she stopped in front of Azzi and held it with one hand. Her voice dropped, softer this time, and something in her face shifted. 

“Let me show you.” 

Azzi hesitated, watching her closely. There was no mocking now. Paige’s grin had settled into something quieter. Not serious, but careful. Like she was trying not to move too quickly through a moment that meant more than it should. 

She nodded once. 

Paige stepped closer, placing the ball in Azzi’s hands again, but this time kept hers there too. She adjusted Azzi’s grip gently, her thumbs brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. 

“Right here. Let your shooting hand sit under the ball. Other hand just helps guide it.” 

Azzi didn’t look at the hoop. She looked at Paige. Their hands were tangled around the ball, Paige’s fingers warm and steady. Close enough to feel her breath when she spoke again. 

“You don’t need to force it. Let it roll off your fingers. It’s about rhythm. Trust.” 

Azzi swallowed hard. 

“Trust the shot?” 

Paige’s eyes met hers. “Trust yourself.” 

The gym felt too quiet. Just the creak of sneakers on polished wood and the low hum of lights above. Paige stepped behind her, setting her palms lightly on Azzi’s elbows, guiding them into position. 

“Bend your knees a little. Keep your elbow under the ball.” 

Azzi followed. The motion was stiff, but she listened. 

Paige leaned in, voice at her ear. “Now lift it slow. Let it go at the top.” 

Azzi raised her arms and released. The ball floated, not perfect, but cleaner. It hit the backboard and bounced toward the rim before falling away. 

Better. 

Azzi turned to look at her, something flickering in her eyes. Not frustration. Something else. A heat she didn’t name. 

“That was almost good,” Paige said. 

“Almost?” 

“I think you need another lesson.” 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025.  

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of Paige’s phone. She was sprawled on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched toward the armrest. Her hair was damp from a shower, and there was a half-finished protein shake on the coffee table. 

Her thumbs tapped quickly. 

Paige: You looked good last night.  Paige: But I still think your hair looked better during draft night. 

She attached a photo. 

It was Azzi, polished and poised, walking into a real estate conference. Hair pulled back in a sleek twist, dressed in a charcoal pantsuit that made her look every inch the power executive Twitter loved to obsess over. 

Azzi: Where did you get this? 

Paige answered before the read receipt even registered. 

Paige: Internet. You’re famous, remember? 

Azzi exhaled through her nose, typing slowly. 

Azzi: Are you stalking me now? 

Paige: Maybe.  Paige: Just enough to form an opinion about your hairstyles. 

Azzi: And here I thought you were too busy chasing Rookie of the Year. 

Paige: I multitask. 

Azzi sat up straighter in bed, the corners of her mouth betraying the start of a smile. 

Azzi: You really liked my hair that night? 

Paige: I like a lot of things when it comes to you.  Paige: Want a list? 

Azzi hesitated.  

Azzi: I’m scared of that list. 

Paige: You should be. It’s long. 

Azzi: Paige. 

Paige: Azzi. 

Azzi: I thought we weren’t doing this. 

Paige: You texted back.  Paige: So maybe you’re doing it too. 

There was a pause. Paige watched the typing bubble appear and disappear three times. Then finally: 

Azzi: Goodnight, Paige. 

Paige stared at it. Then sent one more message without thinking. 

Paige: I still like your hair better down. 

She set her phone down beside her, the softest grin tugging at her mouth as she leaned back into the couch. 

While Azzi lay still in the dark, phone on her chest, heartbeat louder than it should be. She didn’t reply again. But she didn’t stop reading it either. 

-  

Rocco's Cafe, San Francisco. June 2025. 

The clink of glass against ceramic filled the space between them. Afternoon light poured through the tall windows of the restaurant, the kind of place Nika always picked—unassuming, elegant, with an outdoor view that cost more than it looked. Azzi sat across from her, shoulders relaxed, her phone turned face down for once. 

Nika stirred her espresso, eyes flicking to the plate Azzi had barely touched. 

“Westlake signed,” she said. “The rezoning permits came in yesterday.” 

Azzi nodded, lifting her glass. “Good. I want the contractors briefed by Friday. We’ll reroute phase three if they can’t break ground in time.” 

“They will.” Nika took a sip, then leaned back in her chair. “What about the Dallas project? Still holding?” 

Azzi glanced past her toward the window. “We’re waiting on final numbers. But I’m not rushing that one. The board will push if I give them a reason.” 

A beat passed, comfortable and slow. Nika tilted her head, her voice quieter. 

“How are you?” 

“I’m fine?” 

“You’re more than fine.” 

Azzi looked at her confused. 

Nika smiled, sharp but kind. “You’ve been smiling. Laughing. You even left the office before seven last week.” 

Azzi raised an eyebrow, daring Nika to continue. 

“You’re glowing.” 

She shook her head, but her mouth twitched like it wanted to smile. 

“And forgive me, but I have a feeling Jake’s not the reason.”  

Nika lifted her cup with a knowing tilt, like she was letting Azzi keep her secret while quietly reminding her it wasn’t all that well hidden. 

-  San Francisco International Airport, San Francisco. June 2025. 

Azzi reread the message from the Valkyries’ training staff, the words sharp in their precision.  

Concussion protocol.  

Paige had been pulled from practice following a hit during the game against Indiana two nights ago. 

Azzi had watched that game from a bar in Dallas, her tablet propped up between half-finished cocktails and development briefs. The meeting with local contractors had stretched past dinner.  

Her flight home today was late and quiet, and somewhere over the Rockies, exhaustion claimed her. 

The message hadn’t registered until she was standing outside Terminal 2, luggage beside her, the San Francisco air cutting through her blazer. She scrolled absently while waiting for the car. 

Another text sat beneath the first.  

Let us know if you’d like to see the medical report. 

She didn’t reply right away. Headlights pulled up. The town car stopped cleanly at the curb. 

She typed her reply. 

Not necessary. 

Tony stepped out, moved to the trunk. Azzi got in without a word. The door closed with a soft click, and the city hummed low around them. 

She stared straight ahead.    Thinking.    More thinking.    “Tony, we’re making a detour.” 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025. 

Paige blinked, hard, like it would help make sense of the shape in front of her. 

Azzi stood at the doorway, calm as ever, hair tucked neatly behind one ear, as if she belonged there. She hadn’t called. Hadn’t messaged. 

And now Azzi was stepping inside like she hadn’t just knocked a minute ago, like being let in meant she belonged there. 

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You know, knocking doesn’t mean you get to just walk in like it’s your office.” 

Azzi took two more steps in, ignoring the comment entirely. 

“You’re in concussion protocol,” she said. “I got the update this morning.” 

“I—what? Wait, how do you even—” Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even on the medical distribution list.” 

“I don’t need to be.” 

“Okay. Cool. Great. Love the vague billionaire surveillance energy,” Paige muttered. “That’s definitely what every injured rookie wants.” 

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “I didn’t hack into anything, if that’s what you’re implying.” 

Paige snorted. “You didn’t have to. One look from you and half the staff probably tripped over themselves to send an update.” 

“I asked, they answered.” 

“Right. Because that’s totally normal. Just your average team owner flying across the country to check on a player with a bump to the head.” 

“I’m not your average team owner,” Azzi’s gaze didn’t waver. “And it wasn’t just a bump.” 

Paige’s breath hitched before she could hide it.  

She tried to mask it with sarcasm. “So what now? Are you here to run your own tests? Gonna flash a penlight in my eyes, ask me who the president is?” 

"Would you answer if I did?” 

“Depends,” Paige said, voice lower now. “Are you gonna tell me why you really came?” 

Azzi didn’t look away. “Does it matter?” 

“It does if you want to keep pretending this is just about basketball.” 

“Paige.”    “Azzi.” 

Azzi exhaled, slow and tired. “I was worried.” 

Paige stepped closer, the tension in her shoulders softening as she reached out and cupped Azzi’s face with both hands. 

“I’m fine,” she said gently. “You don’t have to worry.” 

Azzi didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on Paige, and before she realized it, she was leaning into the warmth of that touch, drawn by something quieter than reason. 

Paige moved in without rushing, her hands sliding down until they rested on Azzi’s waist. She pulled her in, carefully, like she didn’t want to spook her. Their bodies met in a slow, steady hold. 

Azzi let herself be held. 

“Didn’t we agree we need to stop this?” Azzi’s voice was soft, but the weight behind it settled between them. 

"I only agreed half-heartedly.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes and gave her a light smack on the arm. Paige caught her wrist before she could pull away, grinning. 

“Let’s just have this night, please.” Paige said, voice lowered to something more honest. “We don’t have to do anything. I miss you.” 

There was a pause, then a quiet mumble from Azzi. “I miss you too.” 

Paige wrapped her in a hug, slow but firm, the kind that said more than words could carry. She held Azzi tightly, grounding herself in the contact, in the relief of having her this close again. 

“How was your flight?” she asked after a moment, still not letting go. 

Azzi answered once they finally pulled back, their fingers laced. “Long. Delayed twice. I hated every second.” 

“Stay the night,” Paige said without thinking. 

Azzi blinked. Her body stilled. “Paige—” 

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Paige added quickly. “We both need rest. That’s all. Just... don’t leave.” 

Azzi hesitated for only a beat, then reached for her phone. She typed out a message to Tony to go home without her. 

Paige disappeared for a moment and came back with a folded UConn sweatshirt and matching joggers. “You’ll look better in these than I ever did.” 

Azzi gave her a look, took the clothes, and changed in the bathroom. When she emerged, the room was dim, Paige already under the covers. 

She climbed in, the air between them thick with hesitation. They left a small space between their bodies, but not for long. 

“Come here, ma,” Paige said, voice almost teasing. 

Azzi didn’t bother pretending. She folded into Paige’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. 

“I’m only doing this because of your concussion protocol,” she murmured. 

Paige laughed, the sound low and grateful. “If it means I get to have you like this, I’ll bang my head every day.” 

Azzi let out a quiet laugh of her own, her breath brushing against Paige’s neck. 

Paige pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for coming. And for checking on me.”    “We’re so bad at stopping this.” 

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Gonna copy-paste what I put into the Dual Process Theory YouTube community post, just in case anyone is blissfully ignorant of what's been going on in the Disney community:

The National Indian Child Welfare Association is an organization working to protect indigenous children and families through education and advocacy on child welfare and kinship rights. The original Lilo & Stitch is very relevant to the ICWA as it shows a US government agent attempting to separate an indigenous woman from her child ward to put her into the care of the state, something that has happened and continues to happen to indigenous children. Nani's "Aloha 'Oe" scene was added as a way to parallel their situation with the colonization of Hawai'i; the original song was written by the last Queen of Hawai'i as the United States forced her to cede her ancestral lands to them, which they then proceeded to colonize and commercialize. Nani is unable to find a job due to the tourism business taking over her land and Lilo is objectified enough to mirror the behavior (taking photos of white tourists rather than white tourists taking photos of her) and gets removed from her traditional dance because of a rich white or white-passing bully.

The original movie is subtle in its messaging but very clear if you know anything about Hawai'ian history, and the movie ending with 'ohana being kept and Nani being able to keep her sister, who she loves, because she now has a support system who can assist her in her own shortcomings is presented as a happy ending for everyone, and the ideal community that we should strive for.

The reboot, if you haven't seen it, has Nani (played by an actress whose mother is a Hawai'i realtor) literally look Lilo in the eye and tell her that 'ohana is a fantasy that can never be reality and that their parents abandoned them by dying. She AND the film see Lilo as a burden on her that is alleviated when she gives up custody and goes to the mainland for college. Why not have her go to a Hawai'ian college, or do classes online while staying with her sister? Because they didn't think about her actually caring for and loving her sister. They thought about how she should go pursue the generic American Dream, and this neurodivergent traumatized child should be passed off to someone else. They literally have an indigenous CPS agent tell her to do this. Her happy ending is giving up custody of her sister to a neighbor and going to a white-dominated university.

Even the non-indigenous characters get removed from the 'ohana, as Jumba is now solely evil and irredeemable and serves as the final antagonist instead of Gantu, which also provides the wonderful(/s) message that criminals cannot be redeemed and government agents are never wrong. The reboot looks at you and tells you that family means nothing and indigenous people should give up their children and culture and assimilate. The director literally said in an interview, "Some people get left behind."

All this to say, we're definitely donating to the NICWA today. They fight to protect the Indian Child Welfare Act that prevents indigenous children from being kidnapped away from their cultures and assist indigenous families in protecting and caring for each other.

Nobody gets left behind.

Happy Stitch Day, everyone donate to the NICWA out of apology that we let the reboot gain any kind of traction

The National Indian Child Welfare Association is an organization working to protect indigenous children and families through education and advocacy on child welfare and kinship rights. Nobody gets left behind.