#some deeper meaning about belonging or whatever...

[snip73]

fish mob

(its so CRUNCHED holy hell pls click for much better quality)

[plutosunshine]

What changes do you need to make in your life? Uranus in houses

Uranus in the 1st house

If you have Uranus in the 1st house, life is kinda asking you — maybe even pushing you — to embrace your individuality completely. Like, not just surface-level "I'm a little different" — but deep, radical self-acceptance. You're meant to stand out. You’re not here to fit into neat little boxes or live by someone else’s blueprint. And honestly, the more you try to "blend in," the more uncomfortable and restless you’ll probably feel.

Change for you often looks like breaking free from old versions of yourself — shedding layers of identity that don't match who you actually are inside. It's almost like you have to reinvent yourself several times through life, and each time you get closer to your truest, most electric version.

Also, people with Uranus in the 1st house sometimes shock others without meaning to — just by being themselves. If you've ever felt like people either instantly "get you" or are like, "Whoa, what are they about?" — that's totally part of your magic. You're meant to wake people up just by existing. So part of the change you might need is learning not to shrink yourself to make others more comfortable. Your energy shakes things up, and the world needs that.

Basically, life is asking you to be bold about who you are. Own your quirks, trust your instincts, and don't be afraid of people who don't "get it." Your real people will. ⚡

Uranus in the 2nd house

When Uranus is in your 2nd house, life kinda whispers (or sometimes yells), "Hey, your relationship to money, possessions, and self-worth isn't meant to be traditional." Stability in those areas? It's a moving target. You might experience sudden gains and losses, or your income might come from weird, unconventional, or unexpected places — like random side hustles, tech stuff, spiritual work, inventions, or just not the typical 9-5 route.

You're not supposed to cling too hard to stuff — money, belongings, even security in the "normal" sense — because Uranus wants you to find your true value somewhere deeper. It's like life challenges you to stay flexible, resourceful, and open to change. If you ever try to "lock down" your finances too tightly, life might throw curveballs just to remind you: "Hey, you can't control this like everyone else does."

What you’re really being nudged toward is a more authentic, liberated version of security — one that's based on your own inner worth, not just how much is in your bank account or what you own. That can feel wild sometimes, but it’s where your freedom and true abundance live.

Also, with Uranus here, you probably have some super unique talents or ways of creating value — like, skills that aren't "standard issue." Part of your life path is trusting that and not trying to be cookie-cutter about how you "should" earn or what you "should" have.

In short: you’re here to redefine what stability means — on your terms. And once you stop trying to do it the way everyone else expects, the real magic flows.

Uranus in the 3rd house

If you’ve got Uranus in the 3rd house, your mind doesn’t work like everyone else's — and that’s a huge gift. You're wired to think fast, differently, outside the box. Like, while everyone else is still putting the pieces of a puzzle together, you're already looking at the next puzzle two steps ahead. Your ideas can be brilliant, futuristic, and honestly, sometimes even too "out there" for people to immediately understand.

Life pushes you to communicate in your own unique way — whether that’s through writing, speaking, tech, memes, art, whatever fits your flavor. You’re probably not here to just parrot what’s already been said — you're here to spark new conversations. It’s very "I have something different to say, and if you don't get it, that's fine — you'll catch up."

Change-wise, Uranus in the 3rd house wants you to free your voice. Don’t water yourself down just to be understood easily. You're meant to bring new ideas into the world, even if it feels like you're shouting into the void sometimes. You’re also probably here to teach or influence people in unexpected ways — even just by chatting or posting online. You might drop a random comment that seriously changes someone's life without even trying.

Also, heads up: your day-to-day life can be kinda unpredictable. Last-minute trips, sudden changes in plans, weird encounters with siblings or neighbors — that's all very Uranus 3rd house energy. The universe likes to keep your environment stimulating, because your brain craves newness and movement.

So overall, life’s asking you to trust your strange, electric mind — and share it, even if it feels like no one gets it at first. You’re a mental pioneer. 🧠⚡

Uranus in the 4th house

When Uranus is in your 4th house, home and family roots are not exactly "normal" — and they’re not supposed to be. You might have grown up in a household that felt a little unstable, eccentric, chaotic, or just different from what most people around you experienced. Maybe there were sudden moves, surprising family dynamics, or a general sense that home didn’t always mean "predictable."

At a soul level, life is nudging you to redefine what home and emotional security mean for yourself. You’re probably not meant to live a super traditional, white-picket-fence kind of life — unless you totally reinvent what that looks like for you. You're wired to crave emotional freedom as much as emotional connection, which can be a weird balancing act. You want to belong, but not if it means losing yourself.

One big change Uranus asks from you is to detach from old family patterns that no longer support who you are becoming. You might be the one in your family who “breaks the chain” — doing life differently, healing old emotional wounds, choosing freedom over stuck loyalty.

Also, you may randomly move at unexpected times, live in unusual places, have a very unique home setup, or create a kind of “chosen family” of your own. Home for you isn't necessarily one physical place — it’s more about finding people and spaces where you can breathe, be weird, and feel truly safe being yourself.

If you ever feel like your foundation is shaking, it’s usually Uranus asking, "Is this still real for you? Or are you clinging to something out of fear?" And if it’s not authentic, life will eventually push you to shake it loose.

In short: your soul's mission is to create an emotional life based on truth, not tradition — and it's okay if it looks totally different from what you grew up with. In fact, it’s supposed to. 💫

Uranus in the 5th house

When Uranus is in your 5th house, life is saying loud and clear: "You’re not here to create like everyone else. You’re here to shock, inspire, and completely rewrite the rules of self-expression." Your creativity, your passions, even the way you love — it’s all electric, unpredictable, and absolutely unique to you.

You probably get flashes of inspiration out of nowhere — like one minute you're just living your life, the next you’re hit with a wild idea that’s lightyears ahead of its time. Follow those sparks. Your soul is happiest when you’re making or doing something that feels exciting, different, even a little rebellious.

When it comes to love and dating? Yeahhh... not exactly "by the book" either. 😂 You need excitement, freedom, and real connection — not just safe, boring routines. People who try to tie you down too fast or expect you to follow some romance script might make you want to run for the hills. Fast. Love for you needs to feel like an adventure, not an obligation.

Also, with Uranus in the 5th, you're meant to experiment with joy — find what lights you up and don’t be afraid if it changes over time. Hobbies, art, passion projects, even the way you relate to kids (if you have them or ever do) will all have a non-traditional flavor.

The big change Uranus asks of you is to trust your weird, wonderful self-expression, even if it doesn’t make sense to others. You’re not here to color inside the lines — you're here to invent whole new colors. 🎨⚡

And honestly, when you really let yourself play your way, life becomes magic.

Uranus in the 6th house

If Uranus is in your 6th house, life is basically saying: "You’re not meant to do work, health, or daily life the 'normal' way — and the sooner you own that, the freer and happier you’ll be."

You probably get restless with routines that feel too rigid or boring. Clocking into a 9-5 every day doing the same thing forever? Hard pass. Your soul craves freedom in your work life — meaning freelance gigs, weird career paths, sudden changes in job direction, or working somewhere that lets you be independent or innovative. Traditional setups might feel like they drain your life force unless they give you enough space to be you.

And your relationship to health is just as unique. Your body might respond weirdly to stress, routine, diet, or even conventional medicine. Sometimes it’s like your system is more sensitive to energy shifts — so listening to your own intuition, trying alternative healing methods, or mixing different styles might actually work better for you than following the "one size fits all" advice.

The big thing Uranus pushes you to change? Let go of trying to force yourself into boring, mechanical rhythms just because you think you “should.” Find your own rhythm. Make your day-to-day life feel alive, not suffocating. It’s about learning how to serve the world and honor your individuality at the same time — not sacrificing one for the other.

Also — random note — you might suddenly shift habits, diets, or routines overnight. Like, you wake up one day and think, "I'm never eating sugar again" or "I'm quitting this job today." And if you trust those intuitive jolts (and they come from real insight, not just rebellion), they can actually be super healthy for you.

In short: build a life that lets you work and live in a way that feels electric, free, and true — even if it looks totally different from what everyone else is doing. 🛠️⚡

Uranus in the 7th house

If you’ve got Uranus in the 7th house, life is basically setting you up for relationships that break the mold. The traditional "settle down, follow the script" thing? Yeah... not really your destiny. Deep down, you crave connection — but it has to come with a huge side of freedom, authenticity, and excitement.

You might attract super unusual, eccentric, brilliant, rebellious partners — people who are totally different from what your family or friends expect. Or your relationships might start in weird, sudden, out-of-nowhere ways. Sometimes it's instant sparks, sometimes it's chaos, but it’s never boring.

One big thing Uranus asks of you is to rethink what partnership means. You’re not here to merge into someone else or lose yourself in "we" — you're here to form relationships where both people still get to be totally themselves. If someone tries to control you or box you in, your soul is gonna scream, "Nope!" even if everything looks good on paper.

There can also be sudden changes in relationships — fast beginnings, sudden breakups, on-and-off vibes — because your partnerships are meant to reflect growth and evolution, not just stability for stability’s sake. Long-term, the kind of relationship that works for you is one that feels like a conscious choice every day, not an obligation you’re stuck in.

You’re meant to experience partnership as something that’s alive, surprising, and full of breathing room — not something that clips your wings. 🪽

In short: you’re here to build new models of love and partnership, ones that are real, free, and yours — even if they don’t look traditional to the outside world.

Uranus in the 8th house

If Uranus is in your 8th house, you are wired for deep transformation, but it’s not going to be slow, steady, or easy — it’s going to come in flashes, breakthroughs, and total holy sht* moments. Life doesn’t let you stay the same for long. You’re built to shed skins, reinvent yourself, and go through some seriously wild inner changes that shock even you sometimes.

The 8th house is about shared energy — intimacy, deep trust, merging resources, death and rebirth (emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes literally dealing with loss). Uranus here brings sudden shifts in all those deep areas. You might experience unexpected changes with money you share with others — inheritance, investments, debts, etc. But even bigger than money? Emotional intimacy. You probably don’t do closeness the "normal" way. You need freedom even in deep bonds — meaning you’ll crave deep connection but also fear losing your independence if it gets too entangled or heavy.

Part of your growth is learning how to let people in without feeling trapped. And honestly? You're meant to attract people who help awaken you — lovers, friends, mentors — not just keep you safe and cozy. Relationships with you can feel electric, transformative, and a little chaotic because you wake people up, and they wake you up right back.

Also, you probably have some crazy strong intuition about hidden things — emotional undercurrents, secrets, even metaphysical stuff like energy healing, astrology, or psychic phenomena. Uranus in the 8th house often gives flashes of insight into the unseen realms.

In short: you’re here to transform, to trust your inner flashes of insight, and to live through depth without losing your freedom. It’s intense, but you were built for this kind of magic. 🖤⚡

Uranus in the 9th house

If Uranus is in your 9th house, your soul is basically wired for exploration, expansion, and truth-seeking — but in the most wild, non-traditional way possible. You’re not here to just accept what you're taught; you’re here to question everything and find your own truth, even if it’s way outside the "normal" zone.

You might have an intense need for freedom through learning, travel, philosophy, or spirituality — but you’ll always approach those things in your own way. Like, traditional religious systems? Academic structures? "One-size-fits-all" beliefs? Nah, that’s not gonna cut it for you. You need room to roam, both mentally and literally. ✈️📚

Big changes with Uranus here usually look like sudden revelations that totally flip your worldview. One day you might believe in X, the next day you're like, "Nope, it’s Y," because a flash of insight hit you so hard you can’t unsee it. And travel? Yeah — you might have unexpected moves, spontaneous trips, or a restless need to experience different cultures and ways of thinking. Even if you stay in one place physically, your mind is always somewhere new, exploring.

In relationships and life in general, you need people around you who respect your mental freedom. Anyone trying to force you into their belief system or limit your thinking? Instantly a no-go for you.

The change Uranus is pushing you toward is breaking free from inherited beliefs and creating your own understanding of the universe — one that's alive, evolving, and completely yours. You’re here to be a trailblazer in thought, not a follower.

In short: You’re meant to wake people up to bigger, freer ways of seeing life — starting with yourself. 🧠🚀

Uranus in the 10th house

If you have Uranus in your 10th house, you are not here to have a "normal" career or public life — at all. Like, truly, you’re built to shock, inspire, and change the system by just being yourself out in the world.

You might have this deep, restless urge to do work that’s different, groundbreaking, or ahead of its time. Sitting at a desk doing the same thing every day under someone else's rules? Not it. You need freedom, innovation, and the space to carve your own path. A lot of people with this placement either blow up suddenly (like, overnight success out of nowhere) or have a career path that's full of random twists, turns, starts, and reboots. You're not supposed to have a straight-line journey. You’re meant to reinvent yourself publicly over and over.

And when it comes to your reputation? People might see you as rebellious, brilliant, eccentric — maybe even a little unpredictable. Some will admire it, some won’t know what to do with you — but either way, you’re unforgettable. Your energy shakes things up wherever you go, especially in the areas of leadership, fame, career, and achievement.

The big shift Uranus demands from you is: don’t force yourself into traditional definitions of "success." You're supposed to define success on your terms, even if nobody else gets it at first. When you stay true to your weird, genius path, that's when the universe really opens doors for you.

You’re basically a walking permission slip for others to realize they can be successful without selling their soul. 🔥

In short: You’re here to change the game — not play it. 🛸🌟

Uranus in the 11th house

If you have Uranus in the 11th house, you’re literally built to find your people — but it’s not gonna happen in a typical, cookie-cutter way. You're supposed to connect with wildly different, progressive, visionary communities — the weirdos, the geniuses, the rebels, the dreamers — the ones who don't just fit in but want to change the whole damn system.

You’re not meant to just be part of any group; you’re here to help invent new movements, ideas, and futures. You might feel restless or out of place in traditional circles because your soul knows you need a tribe that lets you fully be yourself — no masks, no small talk, no shrinking.

You might also notice that friendships and group connections in your life can be sudden, electric, and sometimes unstable. People can come into your life fast and leave just as fast — but every connection usually brings some kind of awakening or shift, even if it’s short-lived.

Career and dreams? You’re meant to dream big — not just for yourself, but for the collective. Like, you’re here to push humanity forward in your own way, whether that’s through tech, social movements, arts, spirituality, or whatever wild path your heart picks. And honestly, you're usually ahead of your time — you see futures that other people haven't even imagined yet.

The big shift Uranus asks of you is: don’t cling to old friendships, networks, or dreams just because they’re comfortable. Your soul craves growth and evolution. And sometimes that means walking away when a community no longer matches your vibration — even if it’s hard.

In short: you’re here to shake up the collective, connect with your soul tribe, and dream the future into being. 🌍🚀

Uranus in the 12th house

If Uranus is in your 12th house, you’ve got this deep, electric connection to the unseen — the collective unconscious, intuition, dreams, energy fields, things most people can’t even put into words. You’re wired to sense shifts before they happen. Sometimes you’ll just know stuff without knowing how you know. It's like you have a built-in cosmic antenna — picking up on vibes, future trends, hidden emotions, even collective spiritual shifts.

But here's the tricky part: because the 12th house is so hidden, a lot of this Uranian lightning might be happening under the surface, inside you — not always super obvious to you or others. You might feel restless without knowing why, or you might have sudden awakenings that feel totally random but actually aren’t.

Freedom, for you, is an inside job. It’s about freeing yourself from old karmic patterns, unconscious fears, and anything that cages your inner wildness. You’re here to break free from invisible prisons — things like self-sabotage, outdated spiritual beliefs, hidden anxieties.

Also? You’re super plugged into the collective energy. When society goes through chaos or awakening (and let’s be real, it does a lot these days), you might feel it in your body and soul before anything even happens externally. You’re like a cosmic early warning system. 🚨✨

The shift Uranus is asking from you is: trust your flashes of insight, even if they come from dreams, meditation, or deep inner nudges that don’t seem logical at first. And learn how to ground your energy so you don’t get overwhelmed by everything you’re sensing.

You’re meant to be a kind of hidden awakener — someone whose very presence, even quietly, stirs change in others on a deep, soul level. 🌀💫

In short: you’re here to awaken not just your own soul, but the collective dream — and it all starts with trusting your inner electric magic.

[bu3ck3r]

unconditional love

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: pazzi at wnba draft

a/n: i’m so insanely proud of paige it’s been amazing watching her grow and now seeing her get everything she’s worked so hard for. also feeling incredibly proud of kaitlyn and aubrey just such a big moment for all of them🥹

the hum of new york city sat low and steady outside the window, a constant rhythm against the silence in the hotel room. it was late, maybe 1 a.m. , but paige didn’t care. time felt like it had slowed, suspended between what she’d spent years working for and whatever tomorrow would bring.

azzi lay curled into her, her cheek pressed against paige’s chest, fingers trailing soft circles on her stomach. the tv was on mute, glowing with some random late-night sitcom, but neither of them was watching.

“you’re quiet,” azzi whispered, her voice sleepy but alert.

paige blinked slowly, her hand brushing along azzi’s back, settling just above the hem of her shirt. “i’m just… thinking.”

“mhm.” azzi tilted her head up to look at her. “about tomorrow?”

“yeah. and you.”

azzi smiled. “me? what about me?”

paige leaned down and kissed her temple, her lips lingering. “that i wouldn’t even be here without you.”

azzi scoffed gently. “paige, come on.”

“no, i’m serious.” paige shifted so she could really look at her. her eyes were soft, a little glassy. “every time i felt like i wasn’t gonna make it back, you were there. telling me i would. believing it. even when i didn’t.”

azzi reached up and cupped paige’s face, brushing her thumb along her cheekbone. “that’s because i do believe in you. i always have.”

they held eye contact for a long time. paige didn’t move. azzi didn’t look away.

then paige whispered, “are you proud of me?”

azzi gave her the look. that kind of look where every ounce of love she carried was written across her face.

“baby, i am very proud of you,” she said. “you’re gonna be the number one pick tomorrow. you came all the way back from an injury, from everything… and you’re still you. even better, somehow. you deserve all of this.”

paige’s lips parted slightly. she looked down, trying to blink back the sting of tears. she hated crying before bed, it always made her stuffy in the morning, but she didn’t stop azzi when she moved in closer.

they kissed then—slow, warm, unhurried.

paige sighed into her, pulling her tighter.

“i love you,” she murmured between kisses.

azzi smiled against her lips. “i love you more.”

paige whispered. “not possible.”

they kissed again, this time deeper. azzi’s hand slid up under paige’s oversized hoodie, palm splayed flat against her bare skin. paige groaned softly.

“i don’t wanna sleep,” she whispered, resting her forehead against azzi’s. “i don’t want it to be tomorrow yet.”

“i know,” azzi said gently. “but it’s a good tomorrow.”

paige kissed her again, messily this time, like she couldn’t stand the idea of not getting to do it all the time. azzi laughed into her mouth.

“you’re gonna look so incredible tomorrow i’ll be thinking about you more than the draft”

azzi kissed her nose. “you’re gonna get on that stage tomorrow and you’re gonna smile like you do when you’re trying not to cry. and you’re gonna look so damn good i’ll probably faint.”

“you’re gonna look better.”

azzi grinned. “doubt it.”

paige said firmly. “i won’t survive it. i’ll see you before the carpet and black out.”

azzi bit her bottom lip. “i mean i did get a tighter dress so…”

paige dropped back against the pillows dramatically. “you’re evil.”

azzi laughed and settled back on her. “i want you to remember this. tomorrow. when everyone’s looking at you. when the lights are bright and you’re nervous. you belong there. you earned it.”

paige was quiet for a second.

“promise me something?” she said softly.

“anything.”

“promise me i’ll still be yours when everything changes.”

azzi didn’t answer right away. she kissed paige’s lips, then her jaw, then her collarbone. she kissed every inch she could reach. then she looked back up at her.

“you’ll always be mine,” she said. “and i’ll always be yours.”

they held each other for a long time after that.

and even though paige didn’t sleep much that night—her heart pounding with nerves and excitement and love—she didn’t feel alone. not even a little.

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paige was awake before the sun.

it was one of those mornings where the light didn’t come through the curtains so much as it glowed around them—soft and slow, like it knew something big was about to happen. she lay on her side, eyes half open, watching the way azzi’s hair spilled across the pillow, how her lips parted slightly when she was deep in sleep.

she looked so peaceful. so unfairly beautiful.

paige stared.

she always stared.

sometimes she still couldn’t believe this was real—that this girl, this best friend turned more, was her girlfriend.

paige smiled to herself and let her hand rest gently on azzi’s waist. she didn’t want to wake her. not yet. she just wanted to look.

god, i’m so in love with her.

azzi stirred a little, brow furrowing. paige leaned in and kissed her cheek softly.

“you’re staring,” azzi mumbled, barely awake.

“how could i not?”

azzi cracked one eye open. “creepy.”

paige grinned. “beautiful.”

azzi smiled without opening her eyes. “flatter me more. i’m not getting up yet.”

“you have to,” paige said, kissing her shoulder.

“ugh. fine.” azzi rolled over, arms wrapping around paige’s waist. “but only if you kiss me awake properly.”

so paige did. slowly. sweetly. like it was the first time.

“mmm,” azzi mumbled. “what time is it?”

“too early,” paige whispered, pressing another kiss to her temple. “but i didn’t wanna waste a second not looking at you.”

azzi cracked one eye open and smiled sleepily. “you’re so corny.”

“only for you.”

“you nervous?”

paige nodded slightly. “yeah. but also… kinda calm. like, i know today’s gonna be wild, but i’m okay because i have you.”

azzi’s fingers slid under paige’s shirt, tracing her hip. “you have me. always.”

they kissed, slow and soft, until paige rolled half on top of her, the weight of the moment settling over them both. azzi’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, grounding her.

“i wish we could stay in bed all day,” paige whispered into her neck.

azzi smiled. “we’ll make up for it later.”

they stayed like that for a little longer. but soon the alarms got louder, the texts started rolling in, and the quiet morning turned into movement.

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it was 10 a.m., paige was wearing a gray wnba hoodie with the 2025 wnba draft logo on the front, surrounded by her fellow draft invitees, riding up an elevator in the empire state building.

she leaned against the glass, looking out over the city, heart pounding.

“that would hurt.” she said to herself.

the media team had them posing for pictures—goofing off, smiling in sync, laughing like they weren’t all on the edge of a life-changing moment.

paige was good at pretending she wasn’t anxious.

she cracked jokes with shy and georgia, helped fix kiki’s hair before one of the shots, and posed with her hands in her pockets like it was no big deal. but every few minutes, her mind drifted.

i wonder what azzi’s wearing right now.

i wonder if she’s thinking about me.

her phone buzzed while she was mid-laugh. she checked it in the middle of the crowd and nearly melted.

azzi: bts from the photo-shoot just for you.

azzi sent 1 attachment: azzi in glam chair, lips glossed, smiling.

paige full-on blushed.

paige: you’re gonna kill me before the carpet.

paige: thinking about you.

azzi: oh you miss me already, baby?

paige: obviously.

paige: but don’t act like you’re not counting the seconds either, princess.

azzi: okay maybe a little

azzi: but i’m still the baddest

paige: yes ma’am

she grinned at her phone, sighing as she tucked it away.

by 5 p.m., they were back at the hotel. azzi was in a different suite, getting ready separately. paige sat in a chair, letting her makeup artist finish the final touches. her sparkling coach suit—bedazzled, sharp, and perfect—was already on. her hands were slightly shaky.

she texted azzi.

paige: you almost ready?

azzi: 10 mins

paige: i’m gonna lose my mind.

azzi: not yet baby. wait till later p.

paige: you’re killing me azzi.

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when paige finally walked into the suite where azzi was finishing her makeup, her brain short-circuited.

azzi turned to her in that black dress, long and sleek, with subtle shimmer. hair wavy, soft glam done. her skin glowed.

paige literally stopped in the doorway.

“holy—” she blinked. “you look…”

azzi smiled knowingly. “speechless?”

paige crossed the room slowly. “i’m trying to be respectful, but you’re making it very hard.”

azzi placed a hand on her chest. “don’t touch too much.”

“but i need to touch you.”

“you can touch me later.”

paige let her hands rest low on azzi’s waist, pulling her just close enough to breathe her in. “you promise?”

azzi leaned in and kissed her—soft but with intent. “yes. after the chaos. we’ll have our own moment.”

paige grinned. “you just gave me something to live for.”

they kissed again, this time longer, but azzi pulled back with a teasing smirk.

“no more. you’re gonna smudge everything.”

“ugh. okay.” paige pouted dramatically.

azzi ran her thumb along paige’s jaw. “you’ll survive.”

paige rested her forehead against hers. “barely.”

azzi cupped her cheeks, eyes serious now. “before we walk out there, i want you to know something.”

paige blinked, suddenly locked in.

“i am so proud of you,” azzi said. “like, beyond what words can even say. i look up to you, not just as a player, but as a person. the way you love me, the way you carry yourself, the way you fought to get here. it’s inspiring. you’re inspiring.”

paige’s throat tightened instantly.

“azzi—”

“ah—don’t cry,” azzi warned, gently brushing under her eye.

paige laughed through the tears building up.

“you’re gonna be the first pick, and i’ll be the proudest when it happens. because i know you, paige. and i’ll always be your number one fan.”

paige couldn’t speak at first. she just pulled azzi in, held her tight, and whispered against her ear, “you’re everything to me.”

azzi held her back just as tightly.

they didn’t need much else.

because in that moment, even with the world waiting outside those doors, they were right there—with each other.

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the car ride to the venue felt surreal.

paige sat next to hailey van lith and sonia citron, the energy in the bus bouncing somewhere between adrenaline and straight-up chaos. everyone was buzzing—lip gloss retouches, checking phones, practicing smiles, hyping each other up.

paige was in her own little world, though.

she kept one hand on her phone, just in case azzi texted. she’d already seen the final look earlier—azzi in that midnight black dress, glowing, but she was still imagining it, counting down the minutes until she saw her again in motion, under the lights, walking toward her like a dream.

the bus pulled up.

the orange carpet was longer than paige expected, the lights and cameras made it feel endless. she stepped off the bus and took a deep breath.

this was it.

“paige bueckers, please!” a photographer called out. “right here, smile!”

she turned, smiled, posed. she’d done this before.

the coach suit shimmered under the lights—soft silver, tailored sharp, catching every flash. her hair was sleek, pulled behind one ear.

she looked confident.

but the truth was—she was scanning the crowd for one face.

where is she?

then—finally—someone from the media team near the edge of the carpet turned and said something to the people behind the barricade.

paige heard that laugh she knew like her own heartbeat.

azzi had arrived.

and paige? completely forgot how to breathe.

azzi stepped onto the carpet slowly, careful with every stride. her dress was even more stunning now, hugging her curves, glowing under the lights like it was made for her alone. her smile was calm but radiant. her eyes scanned the scene.

and when they landed on paige?

they softened instantly.

paige didn’t even think—she walked toward her, a little too fast, like something magnetic was pulling her across the carpet.

azzi met her halfway.

“you clean up nice,” she teased, eyes flicking over paige’s suit.

paige bit her lip. “you look—” she exhaled, “—like a problem.”

azzi laughed, low and warm. “oh yeah?”

paige leaned in, just slightly. “i’m gonna be distracted the whole night.”

“good,” azzi whispered. “then my plan worked.”

a camera flash went off near them, and they stepped back slightly, catching themselves before they got too lost in each other.

“let’s get a couple shots,” someone suggested, pointing them toward the center of the carpet.

they giggled between photos. touched fingers behind their backs. posed like professionals, but always leaned a little too close. paige trying so hard not to stare at azzi the whole time.

in one shot, paige glanced sideways at her with the most obvious “i’m in love with this woman” look the world had ever seen.

“i saw that,” azzi whispered.

“saw what?”

“that look.”

paige blushed. “you caught me.”

azzi nudged her gently. “get your head in the game.”

paige leaned down a little closer. “too late. you are the game.”

azzi turned her head slightly, eyes sparkling. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“you’re lucky i’m obsessed with you.”

they giggled quietly, then stood a little straighter as more photos were taken.

no one said anything out loud, but anyone with eyes could see it—they were each other’s safe place in the chaos.

inside the venue, things moved fast.

paige found her table toward the front—prime spot for a top pick. azzi sat beside her, with a big smile on her face.

cameras swung by occasionally, but paige didn’t care. not when azzi leaned in every few minutes to whisper something into her ear.

“you’re the best looking one in the room,” azzi said once, smiling behind her champagne flute.

paige bumped their shoulders together. “that’s cap cause you walked in.”

azzi shrugged and shook her head and looked at paige with those soft, steady eyes. “no but seriously, i meant what i said earlier. i look up to you, paige. i always have. you’ve gone through more than anyone even knows, and you still show up with heart and grace. that’s why you’re about to be the first pick. not just because of your game. because of what kind of a person you are.”

paige blinked rapidly. her throat tightened again.

azzi smiled knowingly. “no tears. not yet.”

“i don’t deserve you,” paige whispered.

“too late. you already got me.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

and then it happened.

“with the first pick in the 2025 wnba draft…the dallas wings select…”

paige bueckers.

paige barely heard the rest. her name rang out like a bell through the crowd, like a song she’d been waiting to hear since she was five years old.

everything froze.

and then—cheers.

loud, proud, overwhelming.

she stood slowly, eyes already glossy while she wrapped her arms around azzi and held her close for a second.

“i love you,” azzi whispered, voice thick.

then she walked to the stage.

barely registering the hug from the league commissioner as her name lit up on the screens.

but what she did register? the look on azzi’s face.

azzi watched from their table, smiling so wide it hurt almost shedding a tear. her heart swelled as paige held up the jersey. grinned into the cameras.

her girl. the number one pick.

tears brimmed in her eyes now, though she blinked them away quickly. her smile was huge, beaming, and filled with every kind of pride.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the after party was glowing.

the lights were dimmed, colored spotlights dancing across walls and polished floors. the music pulsed low and warm through the air—some kind of r&b remix that blurred in paige’s ears as she stepped into the room.

she’d just finished a whirlwind round of interviews—camera after camera, mic after mic, all asking the same thing: what does it mean to be the number one pick?

she’d said the right things. she’d smiled, even when her feet hurt and her head spun.

but now?

now, all she wanted was azzi.

and then—there she was.

leaning against the bar in a sparkly short black dress, now with a drink in hand and a faint pink tint to her cheeks. she was laughing at something kk had just said, head thrown back slightly, lips parted.

paige’s chest tightened.

she didn’t even realize she was moving until she was halfway across the room.

azzi saw her coming and smiled—something private, soft, just for her.

“there she is,” azzi said, standing up straight, voice a little slurred at the edges. “my number one.”

paige didn’t answer.

she just stepped in close and wrapped her arms around azzi’s waist, burying her face against her neck.

azzi giggled, startled but not at all mad. “missed me that bad, huh?”

paige just held her tighter.

they stood like that for a minute, not caring who was around. everyone was celebrating. everyone was tipsy. and if a few people stared? so what?

this was their moment.

azzi pulled back enough to look at her. “hey,” she said softly, brushing a hand along paige’s jaw. “you did it.”

paige looked at her, eyes tired but glowing. “i don’t want this night to end.”

azzi’s smile faltered slightly. “me neither.”

there was a beat between them, the kind where time feels thick.

and then someone turned the music up.

azzi tugged paige toward the floor. “come on. you deserve to celebrate.”

they took a few shots and started dancing.

it started slow—hands on hips, small sways, letting the beat move through them. but soon it picked up. azzi spun herself under paige’s arm, laughing, then grabbed paige’s hands and pulled her close again.

they moved like no one else was there.

paige leaned down, lips brushing azzi’s ear. “you’re dangerous when you dance like that.”

azzi looked up at her, teasing. “oh, now i’m the problem?”

“yes. you. always.”

azzi smirked, leaned in, kissed the corner of paige’s mouth. “then maybe you should take me somewhere quiet.”

paige froze for half a second. “az.”

azzi grinned, biting her lip. “not yet. i just like watching you lose your cool.”

“you’re evil.”

“you love it.”

they laughed again, but underneath it all, the weight of time was creeping in. the clock was ticking. and they both felt it.

an hour passed.

then another.

more drinks. more dancing. more whispered things in the dark.

they ended up tucked into a quiet booth in the corner, paige’s arm draped around azzi’s shoulder, azzi’s legs crossed over paige’s lap. the room around them spun a little, all blurred lights and laughter.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

back in their hotel room, azzi leaned against the wall, shoes already gone, dress sliding slightly down one shoulder. “you coming or what?”

paige was on her in seconds.

they kissed hard, desperate, hands everywhere.

“god,” paige breathed, lips brushing azzi’s jaw. “you know what you do to me?”

azzi smiled lazily. “you act like you’re the only one losing it.”

paige laughed—low, rough, against azzi’s throat. “are you?”

azzi nodded. “every time i look at you.”

paige groaned softly, lifting azzi onto the edge of the bed with ease, her shirt falling to the floor behind her. she stepped between azzi’s legs, hands on her thighs, sliding up slowly.

“you remember earlier?” azzi asked, voice teasing.

paige kissed the space just below her ear. “when?”

“when you were begging for one more kiss before the carpet?”

paige smiled. “i remember being desperate. yeah.”

azzi leaned back, pulling paige toward her. “good. you can make up for it now.”

their mouths crashed together—less careful, more urgent. paige pushed the dress higher up azzi’s legs, fingers teasing the edge of lace. azzi’s hand found the back of paige’s neck, guiding her deeper, closer, hungrier.

paige pulled back for a second, breathless. “should i stop?”

azzi shook her head instantly. “don’t you dare.”

paige chuckled, voice thick. “was hoping you’d say that.”

she kissed her again—long and slow, hands wandering, tugging azzi closer until her dress was bunched around her hips. azzi’s hands moved beneath paige’s shirt, fingertips tracing the warm lines of her back.

they undressed in pieces—slow, half-drunk, half-obsessed. every time paige peeled another layer away, she paused. looked. let herself admire.

“you’re so beautiful,” she whispered. “like, it’s stupid how beautiful you are.”

azzi kissed her collarbone. “you’re not so bad yourself, superstar.”

they made love like it was the last time—tangled up in whispered names, soft moans, skin on skin and hearts pounding in sync. there was urgency in it, yes—but more than that, there was intention.

every kiss said: i need you.

every touch said: i want this moment to last.

and every time paige slowed down—kissed her slower, softer, deeper—azzi arched into her, chasing that closeness like oxygen.

afterward, paige lay on her side, body wrapped around azzi’s, their legs tangled, hands resting on bare skin. the sheets were kicked to the foot of the bed, city lights casting soft shadows over their bodies.

azzi reached up and traced paige’s cheekbone with her thumb. “you okay?”

paige didn’t answer right away. she kissed azzi’s wrist instead. “better than okay.”

azzi smiled faintly. “that was…”

“perfect.”

they lay like that for a long time, not saying much, just breathing each other in.

eventually, azzi whispered, “do you think it’ll be different?”

paige opened her eyes. “what?”

“when you’re on the road. when i’m back at storrs. when we’re not… like this.”

paige was quiet, then pulled azzi even closer. “i think we’ll miss each other like hell.”

azzi exhaled. “yeah.”

“but i also think—” paige paused, kissed her shoulder. “we’re gonna make it work. because we always do.”

they fell asleep tangled together, warm and safe in each other’s arms.

and even though they both knew change was right around the corner, for that one night, they let themselves believe nothing would ever pull them apart.

but later, wrapped up in each other under the sheets, breath soft and slow, paige lay with her head on azzi’s chest and just listened.

the silence between them wasn’t empty.

it was full—of love, of fear, of the quiet ache of change.

“i don’t want to do any of this without you,” paige said quietly.

azzi kissed her forehead. “i’m always with you.”

“but soon… you’ll be in storrs. i’ll be in training camp—”

azzi cut her off, hand cupping her cheek. “and still, you’ll be my girl.”

paige’s throat tightened. “promise?”

azzi nodded. “i promise.”

they kissed again. and again. and again.

like they were trying to memorize it all.

[bluebutterflytattooed]

GAME ON

Rugby!Sevika x College Roommate Reader

CHAPTER THREE

You had just finished applying your nighttime moisturizer when you heard a low, annoyed sigh from behind yourself.

You glanced over your shoulder to find Sevika lying on her bed, metal arm draped across her forehead, legs stretched out, her phone resting on her stomach. Her damp hair was messy from a post-practice shower, strands sticking to her forehead, and she was wearing nothing but a white ribbed wife beater and loose blue boxers.

The sight of her like that—relaxed, undone—was unfairly attractive.

You quickly turned back to your vanity, pretending to be deeply invested in you skincare routine. "What’s with the dramatic sighing?"

Sevika let out another long exhale, more over dramatic than the last. "I need help."

You frowned slightly, dabbing a bit of lip balm on. "With…?"

"Homework," Sevika admitted begrudgingly. "Stats. It’s kicking my ass."

You bit back a smile. You had never heard Sevika admit to struggling with anything. "And you want my help?"

Your roommate rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "Yeah, princess, I do."

Something about the way she said princess—all slow and teasing—made your stomach tighten in a way you did not appreciate.

You cleared your throat, shaking it off. "Alright," you said, standing up and stretching. "Let’s see what we’re working with."

Sevika scooted over, making space for you to sit on the edge of her bed. The dorm wasn’t huge, so the proximity was unavoidable. You could feel the warmth radiating off Sevika’s skin, smell the faint mix of clean laundry, soap, and something deeper—woodsy and warm.

You focused very, very hard on Sevika’s laptop screen. "Okay, show me where you’re stuck."

Sevika groaned, running a hand through her damp hair. "Literally all of it."

You bit back a laugh and pulled the laptop onto your lap, scanning the assignment. "It’s not that bad. You just have to break it down."

For the next twenty minutes, you walked Sevika through the basics, explaining things in a way that actually made sense. Sevika, to her credit, tried to keep up, even though she was clearly exhausted.

At some point, she flopped back onto her pillows, groaning dramatically. "I don’t know how you do this."

You smirked. "Because I actually pay attention in class?"

Sevika opened one eye. "Rude."

You shrugged. "Just saying."

She smirked, eyes flickering toward your desk, cluttered with makeup and textbooks. "You’re such a nerd, you know that?"

You scoffed. "I am not."

"You literally have color-coded notebooks and a planner with stickers," The woman next to you teased.

"And you have no organization at all," You shot back.

"That’s why I have you," Sevika said, voice low and easy.

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second before you yourself to ignore whatever that meant.

Instead, you changed the subject. "What do you listen to when you study?"

Sevika stretched her arms above her head, considering. "Depends. If I actually need to focus, probably Frank Ocean... If I’m hyping myself up? Kendrick."

You raised an eyebrow. "You would listen to Kendrick."

She smirked. "What, you don’t?"

"I mean, I do sometimes," you admitted. "But I listen to a lot of Queen, Chappel Roan…"

Sevika tilted her head. "Okay, Queen is solid. I didn’t know you had taste."

You rolled your eyes. "Gee, thanks."

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You leaned back slightly, stretching out your legs, your knee brushing against Sevika’s massive thigh. You pretended not to notice the slight touch.

Sevika’s gaze flickered toward your bed, and a slow smirk spread across her face. "You know," she said, "your bed looks like it belongs to a twelve-year-old."

You gasped. "Excuse me?"

She chuckled, nodding toward the pink fluffy comforter, the fairy lights strung up along the headboard, three extra fluffy blankets, the literal pile of stuffed animals.

"Do not come for my bed," you said, crossing your arms. "It’s cozy."

"It’s adorable. And childish," Sevika corrected, clearly amused.

You huffed. "Well, yours looks like a prison cot."

Your incredibly rude roommate shrugged. "What, you want me to throw a few teddy bears on it?"

You smirked. "I dare you."

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head. "Not happening, princess."

You rolled her eyes at her, standing up and stretching. "Your loss. Stuffed animals are great."

Sevika watched you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. But then she just smirked. "Night, Y/N. Thanks for the homework help."

You nodded, slipping into bed and turning off the light. "Night, Sevika."

——————————————————————

That night, you had a dream.

A very inappropriate, very vivid dream.

You were back in the dorm, but something was different. The air was heavy, charged. You was standing in front of Sevika, close enough to feel her warmth, close enough to notice the way her eyes darkened as she looked at you.

Sevika reached out, her metal fingers brushing against your bare shoulder, trailing down your arm in a way that sent a shiver through your entire body.

"You drive me insane, you know that?" Sevika’s voice was low, rough. Almost scary.

You swallowed hard. "I—"

Before you could finish the thought, Sevika’s hands were on your waist, tugging you forward. Your bodies pressed together, and you could feel every hard line of muscle against your own soft curves.

Sevika leaned in, lips ghosting over your neck, breath warm against your skin. "I bet you taste as sweet as you smell."

Your knees nearly buckled.

You felt Sevika’s mouth trail lower down your neck, hot and teasing, and—

You woke up gasping for air.

Your heart was pounding, your skin burning, your entire body wired with heat.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the dream to disapear, willing yourself to forget.

But it was no use.

Because now, when you looked over at Sevika’s sleeping figure—her broad shoulders, her steady breathing, the way her wife beater had ridden up just enough to reveal a sliver of brown skin—all you could think about was how it had felt to have Sevika’s hands on her.

Even if it had only been a dream.

————————————————————————-

The cafe was cozy, nestled between two bookstores on a quiet street just off campus. It smelled like espresso and sugar, warm with the hum of soft indie music playing overhead. Students occupied almost every table, laptops open, notebooks spread out, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the steady murmur of conversation.

You sat across from Sevika in a booth near the window, your laptop open in front of you, a half-drunk strawberry iced matcha in your hand. You had thrown your hair up into an updo a few minutes ago, not thinking much of it—until she noticed Sevika watching you.

You weren’t sure why Sevika was watching you, but something about the weight of her gaze made your stomach tighten into knots and flood with butterflies.

You focused on your laptop, pretending that you weren’t suddenly very aware of Sevika’s eyes on you.

"So, where were we?" You asked, clearing your throat.

Your roommate blinked, as if she had been lost in thought. "Uh. Something about probability."

You bit back a smile. "Something about probability?"

Sevika smirked, sipping her incredibly boring espresso. "I don’t know, princess. That’s your job to figure out."

You rolled your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," Sevika said, leaning forward on her elbows, "you agreed to help me."

You sighed dramatically, clicking back onto the stats assignment. "Unfortunately."

Sevika chuckled but let you get back to explaining. For the next hour, you walked her through the material, breaking it down in a way that made sense, your fingers tapping against the table as you spoke.

Sevika wasn’t listening as much as she should have been.

She was too distracted by the way you absentmindedly chewed your bottom lip while you concentrated. The way your tank top hugged your figure perfectly, the soft golden glint of your necklaces, the smooth lines of your throat.

She definitely wasn’t thinking about the way you had lifted your arms to tie up your hair earlier, exposing the subtle curve of your waist, the sliver of tanned skin above the waistband of your jeans.

Nope. Not thinking about that at all.

You, on the other hand, were struggling for very different reasons.

Your mind had been a disaster all morning. Every time you looked at Sevika—really looked at her—flashes of last night’s dream hit you like a freight train. The heat of Sevika’s hands on your waist. The low rasp of her voice. The way her lips had felt, warm and teasing against your skin—

You clenched your jaw, pushing the thought far, far away. You were being ridiculous. It was just a dream.

Sevika caught you staring. "You good?"

Your face burned bright red. "Yes."

Sevika narrowed her eyes slightly, but let it go.

You wrapped up the study session about twenty minutes later, finishing off your drinks as students came and went around you two.

Sevika stretched her arms above her head, letting out a deep sigh. "Alright, nerd. I think my brain is officially fried."

You snorted. "I’m shocked you lasted this long."

Sevika smirked, leaning back into the booth. "You underestimate me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

The woman chuckled but didn’t answer. Instead, she tilted her head slightly. "What are you up to now?"

You finished the last of your matcha. "Dance studio."

Sevika nodded. "Solo practice?"

"Yeah," you said, slipping your laptop into your tote bag. "I need to get in a few extra hours before I try out for the dance team next week."

Sevika hummed, considering. "Maybe I’ll stop by sometime. See if you’re actually good or if the school’s just desperate for dancers."

You gasped, scandalized. "I’ll have you know, I’m very good."

She smirked, amused by her indignation. "I guess I’ll just have to see for myself."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

———————————————————————

The dance studio was quiet, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you could breathe again.

You stood in front of the mirror, hands resting on your hips, your water bottle set on the floor nearby. The room smelled faintly of wood and sweat, of polished floors and effort. It was your second home, the place where you could let everything else fall away.

But today, your mind would not shut up.

You had spent the entire study session fighting off the most inconvenient thoughts about Sevika, and now, as you stretched, those thoughts slipped through the cracks again.

Sevika, lying in bed with damp hair. Sevika, watching you tie up your hair with that unreadable look in her eyes. Sevika, calling you princess in that low, teasing voice.

You groaned, pressing your palms against your face. "Get it together."

You turned on the music, hoping it would drown out everything else going on in your mind.

———————————————————————

You lounged on your bed, a box of Raising Cane’s resting on your lap as you dipped a crinkle fry into a little tub of Cane’s sauce. Jinx and Mel were sprawled out across your comforter, all three of you decked out in fluffy pajamas and matching face masks—Jinx’s was neon pink, Mel’s a smooth clay green, and yours a soft lavender shade.

"I swear to God, this is peak self-care," Jinx said through a mouthful of chicken tenders, licking sauce off her fingers.

"I’m telling you," Mel chimed in, stretching her legs out, "nothing beats a greasy fast food binge and skincare. Even though those things are not related, like, at all."

You hummed in agreement, taking a sip of your iced tea. It had been a long day, and a girls’ night was exactly what you needed—something normal, safe, and completely unrelated to…

You shoved the thought away before it could form.

Jinx, ever the instigator, tossed a napkin at your face. "So, Y/N," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Speaking of things that nothing beats, and no one beats this certain persons hotness-"

You groaned. "Nope. Not doing this."

Mel giggled, adjusting her headband. "Come on! You’ve been weird all day."

"I have not."

Jinx rolled onto her stomach, kicking her feet. "Babe. You so have.

You made the very unfortunate mistake of hesitating. It was a fraction of a second, but it was enough for both of them to pounce.

"Oh my God," Jinx gasped, sitting up. "You’re hiding something."

Mel gasped. "Did something happen?!"

"No!" You squeaked, your face already heating up and betraying you and your lies.

Jinx grinned. "Y/N."

"No."

"Y/N."

"I hate you."

Mel grabbed your shoulders. "Spill."

You groaned, tossing your head back against your pillows. "It was just a stupid dream, okay?! That’s all."

Mel and Jinx screamed.

"Oh, this is wild," Jinx said, bouncing excitedly. "What kind of dream? Did you have a sex dream?"

"I hate you both."

"Was it about—" Mel gasped dramatically. "Sevika?"

You shoved a pillow over your face. "Oh my God."

Jinx practically vibrated with excitement. "You had a sex dream about Sevika?" She squealed.

You groaned into the pillow. "Please kill me."

Mel giggled, grabbing your arm. "Tell us everything."

"I will not."

Jinx nudged you. "Y/N. You have to."

You peeked out from behind the pillow, your face turning a violent shade of red. "It was just—" You cleared your throat. "It was…her. And me. And she was…um."

Jinx and Mel leaned in, eager to hear more.

"She was, uh…" You swallowed. "Very…close."

They screamed.

Mel fanned herself. "Oh my God."

Jinx grabbed your wrist, shaking it. "Are you kidding?! That’s so hot."

"It was not," You insisted. "It was humiliating."

Mel waggled her eyebrows. "Or…was it revealing?"

You threw a fry at her. She scowled at you and ate it.

Jinx grinned. "Okay, okay, but like…objectively speaking, Sevika is hot. Even though she like, has this stupid rivalry thing with Vi."

You groaned. "Don’t."

Mel wiggled her fingers. "Doooon’t deny it."

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate this conversation."

Before they could tease you more, the dorm door swung open.

And in walked Sevika.

She was sweaty, her skin glowing from the gym, dressed in loose gray sweatpants and a very tight compression shirt that clung to every inch of muscle. She had her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her hair damp from sweat, and she looked unfairly attractive.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Sevika glanced at you and your friends, amused. "Should I be concerned about the screaming?"

Mel, being the worst, smirked. "Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing important."

Jinx giggled. "Nothing you’d be interested in."

You suddenly had the urge to die.

Sevika raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off, tossing her bag onto her bed. She stretched her arms behind her head, the motion making her shirt ride up just enough to show a flash of her abs.

You were not looking.

(Okay, you were absolutely looking.)

Sevika smirked, tilting her head. "What? You three gossiping about me?"

Jinx beamed. "Why? Would you want us to?"

Sevika let out a low chuckle, and oh no.

Her gaze flicked to you, slow and assessing. "Depends."

Your brain shut down. Sevika was flirting with you, which Jinx and Mel caught onto immediately.

"Oh my God," Mel whispered dramatically.

You could feel your face heating up once again. It’s like you had a permanent blush. You were still thinking about The Dream, and now Sevika was standing there, looking annoyingly attractive, all muscle and sweat and teasing smirks. You cleared your throat, gripping your drink a little too hard. "We were just…talking."

Sevika’s smirk widened. "Just talking?"

Jinx grinned. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Sevika chuckled, grabbing a water bottle from her desk. "You’re all so weird."

Mel hummed. "And you’re so sweaty."

Sevika took a swig of water. "Thanks, princess."

You nearly choked on air.

Jinx and Mel had never looked so satisfied with themselves.

Sevika glanced at you, something amused in her gaze. Then, without another word, she grabbed her towel and headed toward the bathroom.

The second the door shut, all hell broke loose.

Jinx grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. "She so wants you."

Mel screamed into a pillow, overcome with giggles. "Did you see that?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Jinx cackled. "Oh, babe. This is just the beginning."

The moment you all heard the shower turn on in the jack-and-Jill bathroom, your friends pounced.

You had barely taken a breath before Jinx grabbed you by the shoulders for a second time, eyes wild with mischeif. "Okay, listen up. We are going to make Sevika fall in love with you."

Your eyes widened in terror. "Excuse me?!"

Mel clapped her hands together, grinning. "No more playgirl Sevika. No more random girls in your dorm. No more flirting with you and pretending it means nothing. Nope. We are making her obsessed with you."

Your mouth gaped open. "You guys are insane, and so is this plan."

Jinx ignored you. "Step one: We use science. Psychological warfare, if you will."

You groaned. "Oh my God."

"Shut up, you love us."

"Not right now, I don’t."

Mel giggled. "Okay, okay, so here’s the plan."

Jinx leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "First, we use colors."

You blinked. "…Colors?" This is about the craziest thing you’ve ever heard.

Mel nodded sagely. "Sevika definitely has a favorite color, and also a favorite color that you wear sometimes. You need to wear it all the time."

Jinx grinned. "We already know she loves when you wear navy blue. You should also test out black and red. Vi says that Sevika likes those colors

You covered your face. "You guys are the worst."

Jinx poked your side. "Next: you have to start wearing things that’ll make her suffer."

"What?!"

"You know," Mel smirked, "tank tops, little shorts, crop tops. Walk around the dorm in tiny pajama sets. Maybe a towel every now and then."

You gasped, scandalized. "Mel!"

"What?" She sipped her iced tea innocently. "Just saying, if Sevika is already flirting with you when you’re not trying, imagine what happens when you do."

You groaned, dropping your head onto Jinx’s shoulder. "I hate this conversation."

Jinx patted your back. "No, babe, you love it."

Mel nudged you. "Next step: flirt with other people."

You shot up. "What?" You exclaimed again.

"Jealousy," Mel explained. "She needs to see other people wanting you. It’ll make her crazy."

You hesitated. "That feels kind of…mean."

Mel shrugged. "You don’t actually have to do anything. Just be you. We both saw her at the party. She noticed when you danced with Jinx’s sister. She noticed every guy who flirted with you. She notices everything about you, Y/N. You just need to turn up the heat."

Jinx grinned. "Oh, and you have to start going to her rugby games."

You tilted her head. "But I already support her—"

"Not like that," Jinx interrupted. "You need to show up in something cute, act like her biggest fan, and make sure she knows it."

Mel nodded. "And you have to make sure she sees you caring about her. Ask about her games, check in when she’s tired, bring her coffee when she has a rough practice. Girls like her act all tough, but deep down? They melt when someone actually gives a shit."

Jinx snapped her fingers. "Oh! And you have to invite her to your dance performance."

Mel gasped. "Yes! Can you imagine? Watching you on stage? Looking perfect and stunning and untouchable?"

You bit your lip. "I mean…that would be kind of nice."

Mel grinned. "Oh, babe. It would ruin her."

You exhaled, shaking your head. "You two are pure evil."

"Thank you," Mel said sweetly.

Jinx sat back, stretching. "Okay, that’s the plan. If you follow all of this, Sevika will be wrapped around your finger by Christmas."

You chewed your bottom lip, mind spinning. Could this actually work? Did you even want it to work? Sevika was…Sevika. Complicated. Dangerous. Gorgeous. Annoying.

But also—warm. And funny. And thoughtful, when she wasn’t being a menace.

And lately, you had been thinking about her way more than you should.

You exhaled. "I hate you guys."

Jinx smirked. "No, babe. You love us."

Meanwhile…

Sevika stood just outside the bathroom door, towel slung over her shoulder, hair still damp. She had stepped out of the shower a few minutes ago, so she had heard Mel and Jinx planning

And she had heard everything.

She smirked to herself, leaning against the wall.

So.

You were about to start playing games?

Cute.

Sevika had been holding herself back for weeks. She wasn’t stupid—she knew there was something between them, something electric and alive whenever they were in the same room. She had flirted, teased, pushed just enough to get a reaction. But now?

Now you were going to start testing her limits?

Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you just started.

Sevika ran a hand through her hair, her smirk deepening.

If you wanted to make her fall?

Then it was only fair that Sevika did the same.

Game on.

—————————————————————————-

oh my gyatt guys this is a long chapter😭 ALSO it has a title yay! i didn’t think that so many people would love this story, thank you!!

also oh my god finals are kicking my ass. if i’m slow with updates then that’s why!

i love you, blue🦋

tag list: @vahnilla @elliesngirl @naniiiii12 @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliesgffrfr @nymanas @yashirawr @leeidk87 @imvioletscupcake @caffeine-pup @too-x @vxtanne31 @sleepycrybbylaiah @rosebg @pipirka827363829

[chericos]

BLOOD SUCKING FREAKS!

your faves as vampires— multifandom headcanons

fandom list— vnc (the case study of Vanitas), bsd, jjk, mha, one piece, aot, kny, csm, genshin impact (brings back memories…), haikyuu, soul eater, hxh + more!

cws: nsfw?, blood, biting, possessive/yandere themes, dark themes, bites can be used as a sort of aphrodisiac, overstim themes, mentions of bruising, chasing, “hunting”, mentions of being tied/chained up, some are darker than others due to the characters being more inherently “evil”, unedited, you can tell who my favs are, sorry if some are short... tell me if I missed anything!

MDNI

He’s so sweet and kind with you, always ensuring you’re fully prepared to take him. His big rough hands toying and prodding in such a gentle manner that you can’t help but cry out for more. Tears prick the corner of your eyes at his slow pace, you’re not sure how much longer you could keep going like this. His hands trail up and down leaving goosebumps across your skin. His eyes sharpen as he peers down at the junction of your neck. He tilts his head down, inhaling deeply as he drags his tongue up your collarbone. He hovers over your pulse point, sharp fangs grazing the sensitive spot and you shiver at the feeling.

“May I?”

His voice is thick and laced with lust. you feebly nod your head, letting out a small whimper. He hesitates slightly before biting down. It is weak, and only just pierces the skin enough for it to bleed. But what did you expect your hunk of a vampire is just soft.

Maybe a little too soft.

— Izuku, Tamaki, All might, Nighteye, Nanami, Higuruma, Ino, Rengoku, Gyomei, Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Jouno, Atsushi, Roland, Zack Fair, Armin, Shiro, Kunigami, Reo, Kurapika, Cyno, Aether, Gepard, Hinata, Sugawara, Yamaguchi + your fav

Your skin is already littered with bruises and teeth marks. Small beads of blood trickle down your chest and he carefully laps at them. He's been at it for hours, marking you up, making sure whoever dares to look at you knows you belong to him. But who could blame him

Your flesh is so soft and tender between his teeth he can’t help but want to take a bite. It's like you've put him in a trance. His gorgeous girlfriend, who's so eager and pliable to his touch. You were practically made for him. And the sweet sounds you make when he pushes deeper inside of you, it's not his fault your moans are so hypnotizing.

He doesn't normally get so worked up, but you've been riling him up all day. Teasing him with your touches, whispering dirty words into his ear, it's only natural he would break at some point.

He didn’t mean to get rough, but you just tasted so good he couldn’t resist. You won’t blame him… right?

— Xiao, Ayato, Zhongli, Diluc, Alhaitham, Aizawa, Shoto, Shinso, Bakugo, Gojo, Noritoshi, Vanitas, Uzui, Giyuu, Zoro, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Aki, Rin, Isagi, Shidou, Sae, Tobio, Suna, Oikawa, Reno, Leon, Eren, Jean, Levi, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan + your fav

He's so messy.

Spending hours in between your thighs, kissing the supple skin, and also leaving his claim in their place. he's basically eating you alive, bite marks indented in the flesh, and he hasn't even touched you yet. You're whining for him to stop teasing, pleading for him to give you what you want. And who is he to deny?

Arms hooked under your thighs, keeping you in place from thrashing around. He buries his face into you, his nose nudging up against your clit, and the sensation has you jolting. He gives a tentative lick, eyes shooting up to look at your reaction. Your hands nestle into his hair, tugging at the roots as a moan slips out from your lips. And after that, he's ruthless, eating you out like you're a 5-star meal (you are). He's kissing and licking and sucking, and god, whatever the hell he's doing it's making your mind blank.

You don't have it in you to care about how loud you're being, and he doesn't seem to care either. In fact, they seem to encourage him to rip those pretty pretty sounds from you.

“So sweet f’me baby,”

Slick is practically covering the lower half of his face, but he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are blown wide, giving you a dazed out stare as he continues to lap at your core.

This was going to be a long night.

— Noè, Choso, Connie, Luffy, Tighnari, Kazuha, Itto, Kaeya, Leorio, Ranpo, Techou, Tachihara, Cloud, Bachira, Chigiri, Nagi, Kaiser, Aiku, Kuroo, Tanaka, Miya twins, Hizashi, Mirio, Jin, Hawks, Tamaki, Sero, Denki, Kirishima, Sampo, Jiaoqui + your fav

You're such a brat.

You're lucky he still puts up with you after everything you've pulled. He glares down at you, the eye contact making you uneasy. Your mewling and whimpering did nothing to sway him. Your hands are still tied behind your back as his thighs continue to spread your legs open. His hands as roaming your body, squealing and pinching in places that make you jump, before he leaves them to play with your nipples.

His touch is light and teasing, driving you insane. Your nipples harden under his touch, embarrassing sounds escaping your throat as he continues to toy with them. You shove your face into the pillows next to you to muffle them. One of his hands leaves your chest to grip your chin, tilting your head back to stare directly at him. He wants to see every expression you make.

The tension between your legs becomes too much to ignore and you begin to discreetly hump his thigh, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you. At least you thought you were discreet. You don't far before his hands are off you and he's shoving you away. With teary eyes you stare at him confused, why did he stop you?

You're needy and sensitive and you want him to touch you again. You beg for him to continue, but all he does is let out a low chuckle. He doesn't plan on letting you off the hook so easily. He wants to make sure this stays ingrained in your head so that you'll never make the same mistake again.

Because you're his, and he'll spend every second reminding you of that fact.

— August Ruthven, Sanemi, Iguro, Akaza, Geto, Dazai, Mori, Fukuchi, Shigiraki, Overhaul, Blade, Reiner, (s4) Eren, Feitan, Chrollo + your fav

He doesn't know why you keep trying, why you continue to run away. He doesn't understand whatever false sense of freedom you feel when he lets you out. Did you really think you could outrun him? Oh, how idiotic. If he had it in him he would pity you, so dumb and naive. It seems like you still haven't learned your lesson.

Your wrists and ankles are bound together, chained up to the wall. Tears prick your eyes but you know he won't care. He's leaning over you, peering down at your small form as you keep yanking at the restraints in hopes of being set free. You and he both know it's futile, so why keep fighting?

He grips your arms, sharp claws pinching the skin. Without warning he hastily leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. You scream out and thrash at the pain but he holds you still, makes you take it.

It doesn't take long for the venom to enter your systems, an intoxicating feeling clouding your mind and a strange but familiar heat coursing through your body. Your body tensed, heart-beat picking up as you tried to deny what was happening.

He licked the wound closed before stepping back. his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you squirm as the aphrodisiac set in. You scream at him, curses getting mixed in with small yelps as your body becomes sensitive to your clothes. But he isn't too worried about that. He'll break you one way or another.

And then you'll see that there is no way of escaping him.

— Sukuna, Kenjaku, Muzan, Douma, Fyodor, Dabi + your fav

HAPPY HALLOWEEN FREAKS!

Anyway just another disclaimer: I don't romanticize the actions performed in the last one, idk it just doesn't do anything for me, I also (personally) think it's unhealthy but wtv floats your boat ig!! (I say this like it isn't the longest section) IDK, it was just kinda fun to write, I've been meaning to get into darker themes(I have a Douma fic I've been meaning to write) so I wanted to go all out and see how it felt.

I love writing heacanons, ahhhhhhhh, I probably won't edit these so hopefully they aren't too bad!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[vaguely-concerned]

I understand and agree with a lot of the frustrations about the shortcomings of Inquisition as a story. but sometimes when I hear people complain about the chosen one narrative in it I do want to just be like... you know it's a deconstruction of the concept more than anything, right. the inquisitor isn't actually chosen by anything except stumbling into the wrong (right?) room at the right (wrong?) time because they like, heard a noise or whatever. or if you think they are chosen, as many do in-universe, that's something you have to take on faith, the maker-or-whoever moves in mysterious ways indeed-style. the Inquisitor isn't actually a Destined Chosen One, they're a Just Some Guy in a fancy hat, self-delusions of grandeur to taste as you'd prefer.

a running thread that goes through all of the personal quests of the companions is the concept of a comforting lie vs. an uncomfortable truth, upholding old corrupt structures vs. disrupting them, and the role of faith in navigating that. (blackwall the warden vs. thom rainier the liar and murderer. hissrad vs. the iron bull, or is that the other way around? cassandra and the seekers -- do we tell the truth about what we find, even if it means dismantling the old order of the world? and so on.) and your inquisitor IS at the same time a comforting lie (a necessary one, in dark times? the game seems to ask) and an uncomfortable truth (we are the result of random fickle chance, no protective hand is held over the universe, it's on us to make a better world because the maker sure as hell won't lift a divine finger to help anyone, should he against all odds exist). faith wielded for political power... where's the point that it crosses the line into ugliness? is it before it even begins? what's the alternative? will anyone listen to the truth, if you tell it?

interesting how you also get a mix of companion agency in this -- you have characters like dorian who ALWAYS choose one side of the comforting lie vs. uncomfortable truth dichotomy. he will always make up his own mind to go back to tevinter and try to dismantle the corruption of the old system no matter what you say, or how you try to influence him. meanwhile iron bull is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum -- so psychologically trapped and mangled, caught in an impossible spiritual catch-22, that his sense of identity is left entirely to you and your mercy. you cannot change dorian in any way that matters; you can be his friend or not, support him or not, but he is whole no matter what. you are given incredible and potentially destructive-to-him power over bull's soul. it's really cool (and heartbreaking) to think about.

this is a game about how history will eat you even while you're still alive, and shape you into whatever image it pleases to serve it, and for all your incredible power right now you are powerless in the face of the gravitational force of time -- of more than time, of History. you won't recognize yourself in what History will make of you, because you belong to it now. you don't belong to yourself anymore and you never will again. the further you were from what it needs from you to begin with, the more you will find yourself distorted in its funhouse mirror. (why hello there inquisitor ameridan, same hat!)

and to me this is so much the core of what Dragon Age is about right from the Origins days -- how and by whom history gets written, the inherent unreliable narration of it all. I hope you like stories, Inquisitor. You are one now.

I do think it's probably still the weakest of the games narratively, and it's hampered by its structure and bloated systems. but I also find it disingenous to say that there's nothing deeper or actually interesting going on with it, thematically. if you're willing to engage with it there is Some Real Shit going on under the high fantasy-tinted surface.

[the-tarot-witch22]

Your future spouse late night thoughts about you 18+ - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me! | My Paid Readings | My insta

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

Note : This reading is based on my intuition and channeled messages from tarot cards.

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you guys - The magician, 6 of cups, wheel of fortune and 4 of swords)

Their thoughts about you is quite solemn or like emotional, they are quite a softie when it comes to you honestly, i wanted to give something 18+ for you guys but the energy here is so pure honestly or atleast that's how they wanna start with, i feel they don't want to scare you away just yet, like not much r rated haha, but i will channel everything i can, okay so i feel they are quite in awe or in love, like they want to meet you a hopeless romantic energy, looking at moon asking universe or upper power if they will meet you soon, they want to hurry honestly, I heard "you're mine baby" "no matter whatever you are doing right now, whoever is with you", "i am the one for you hope you know that", they want to kiss you a lot, like every part of you, want you to feel loved and you belong with them, like your body, soul has a name of their engraved on it, that's how much they want you to feel at home, at first they were being quite secretive not opening everything or feelings they have for you but I feel they are trying now, I also feel or heard that they want to push you on bed, tie you up, watch you while they fuck every part of you, they are sweet as hell and as well as horny for you, they want you to watch while you suck them, they want to fuck you deeper so you forget everything but them, They definitely want to put you on pedestal in every way they can, they wanna give you after care, touch every part of you they crave your soul and body, they feel they have knownn you for lifetimes, a literal past life connection here, yet they don't have you, they miss you, your time with them , i heard it's honestly funny "how someone can never meet and yet crave for each other", they wanna lay in your arms relax with you, watch silly rom coms, horror anything you desire, but they want you very badly, "when we meet i will tie you up till you get bored of me" in a very teasing tone, he is quite balanced individual in both his sexual desires and emotional desires.

WoW pile they are quite a romantic, huh? you guys deserve it! they are waiting for you too I feel you will meet them very soon.

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you guys - 5 of swords, 8 of wands, 4 of wands and 6 of swords)

Okay so first thing i feel is very passionate, like they just want to fuck the soul out of you, holy shit, starting with big words and love for you, they are definitely not feel like themselves when they are with you, like they are different person "i cant control my feelings, my desires i have for you" how my body reacts when it sees you, it needs you as much as i do, I also heard i am quite jealous that you are not with me right now, is it because it's a payback for me to meet you late?, i hear them sighing a lot, they want to compete with everyone who has ever been with you even your fictional crushes like they can't make you feel like i do, they are definitely very competitive, their thoughts about you at night is quite filled with lust and desire, i see a scene where they are letting off their steam jerking off with the desire and spark they feel within themselves how they just want you, and only you I also feel they want to be very rough with you like just show you who you belong to, for some of you, you both are into hardcore sex, and they wanna make you cum with their mouth, they want you to sit on them, show that little pretty thing which is wet just for them, they want to tease you a lot too, like not letting you come at first, i feel they want to hear you say "please let me come", i see them smirk a lot, satisfied how much you react to them, "keep running away from me, but you can't go far because our souls are intertwined, my darling" gosh pile 2 they are quite very hungry for you, they want to fuck you all day or night touch you in a way no one ever has, they want you to fuck in the mirror they might want to record these moments for you both so you have special memory of it, more than their pleasure , they want YOU to feel pleasure in a way that no one ever had, they want to use dildo on you such foreign objects, i also feel they want you to wear vibrator while you go out with them, and when they feel jealous they will turn it on, i heard "my dirty little slut".

Wow pile 2 they are quite fiery aren't they, they just had so much to say to you their thought about you is so deep and filled with love and lust. Love it for you guys!

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you guys - 10 of pentacles, 7 of wands, 6 of wands, 5 of cups, ace of swords and 8 of wands)

Okay so first thing I feel is they are missing you like a lot, when i started doing your reading and cards my heart felt sad for some reason they could be yearning you and they definitely want me to tell you "how much your absence in their life is impacting them", they are quite turned on by thought of you, your body is their temple, they want to worship you, they want to feel comfortable with them sexually or non sexually, they just want you to feel at home with them, they are feeling quite lonely without you, i heard "i love her laugh", their thoughts about you is quite desperate, but okay let me channel something 18+ for you, they are quite needy for your body, they want you to touch yourself or you to touch them or their intimate parts, they want to gently fuck you, I feel they are quite sensible or have gentleman thoughts for you. They are quite respectful, i also feel they wanna put efforts while they fuck you, politely touch you like you will break in their arms, they are quite caring, and soft for you and with you. i also feel they would want to or love to suck on you breasts to make you feel very good. They want to hear you scream their name, They think of you as their biggest achievement their prize, that they got for good or past deeds, they also want to be sneaky with you like I see a place where you are both only and emotions are so overflowing that you end up having sex their, a beach at night, or some abandoned or deserted place, their energy is quite calming they even calmed me down, they want everyone to see you belong to them, As I said they could be very sad for you like they miss you, "needing you by their side energy", they want you to know that sex isn't only two people having orgasm its more than that, its filled with love spark, connection, when they think of you all they want is to rest by your side, just be their while you do your own thing, they want you to know they have much more to show you when you guys actually meet! You guys can check out pile 1 too!

Good luck pile 3 xD! Their thoughts weren't much 18+ but more sweet. And I feel it's because they take sex much more seriously or not much openly, so that could be why this pile ended up being sweet lol.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[splishfish]

Toys (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, Use of Vibrator, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Dacryphilia

WC: 1.5k

"C’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Sex with Tomura is amazing. Truly, it really is! Although he can be very rough in bed, he’ll always make sure your comfortable and enjoying yourself. If you ask him to change positions, he’ll always shuffle around just for you, even if he’s grumbling under his breath about how needy you are.

He’s an amazing partner in bed. Really…it’s just that…

More than half the time, he can never make you cum during sex.

That doesn’t mean the sex isn't good! No, of course not! It’s amazing! His cock curves so sweetly into your hot cunny, rubbing up into that squishy spot just a few inches deep inside you. And he loves to pound into you like his life depends on it, his heavy balls slapping against your ass / clit depending on your position, and his fingers so tenderly rub against your aching clit, causing your sweet little pussy to clench around him…

But it’s never enough

In the end, once he finishes, he’d have to use his long slender fingers to plunge inside you, desperately finger fucking you into oblivion until you cum. He doesn’t care if you cry and sob against his fingers, begging ‘Please! No more! ‘s too much!’  with your sweet little voice, he’s determined to make you cum.

Whenever you fail to cum during sex, he always seems so grumpy. So mad and upset at himself for failing you. It’s gotten so bad that he’d even end up scratching at his poor neck until it bleeds, beating himself up for disappointing you. All of this makes your heart ache, and eventually, you bring up the prospect of using toys during the bedroom.

When you first bring this up, he stays silent during the conversation, his mind whirring with different thoughts.

Were you seriously thinking of replacing him for some silicone dick? Was he not enough? Were you that unhappy with your sex lives? Would you break up with him? How fucking dare you try and replace him?! He was going to fucking kill-

Before his thoughts delved deeper into hatred and despair you quickly explained to him that no, this wasn’t a way to replace him, and that you were happy with your sex life. The conversation lasted a long time, the both of you sharing your opinions and thoughts on the matter.

Tomura was blunt about his thoughts on the matter. He refused to let you bring any dildo’s or toys that would require any sort of insertion into the bedroom. No, that was his job, only he belonged deep inside your weeping cunt, not some plastic toy.

He also didn’t want any toys to be used on him either. He was already upset about bringing in toys to begin with, so even bringing up using toys on him would cause him to start scratching his neck.

Eventually, the both of you reached a conclusion. You’d go out together, and buy whatever toy would suit his merit and your needs. 

When the day finally came to go shopping, you were absolutely buzzing with excitement! Not only would you be able to go shopping for something for your sex lives, but also you’d be able to spend time and help Tomura understand your needs.

Entering the sex shop hand in hand, you dragged Tomura towards the first few toys you saw, holding them up and explaining their function to him. At first, he didn’t really pay attention, his eyes darting throughout the store, his body stiff and his hands constantly coming up to tug the black hoodie further down his face.

You weren’t too sure if he was embarrassed, or maybe paranoid of being recognized, but eventually he managed to calm down enough to actually help you browse throughout the store. He scowled at every dildo or phallic item you passed, and he even spent a few seconds gazing at the wall of monster dildos in the corner.

For a moment, he imagined you struggling to take such a monstrous cock, and how your pretty little cunny would squelch and cry at such a big size. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Eventually, after spending around an hour or so of browsing, you both decided on what you thought was the most basic purchase, yet best item you could have gotten. A hitachi wand.

As you two warped back, you spent the first few hours unpacking and letting the wand charge completely. Once it was finished, you took it back to Tomura’s room, holding it up like a prized possession as you spoke.

“Let’s try it out now!”

As you laid on your back, your legs spread wide as Tomura stood between them, his cock sliding between your puffy folds. Your slick mixed with his pre, your body buzzing with lust and excitement. Tomura grabbed the base of his cock, slowly sliding it down your slit until the tip of his cock nudged your eager hole.

You sighed in relief as he slowly pushed in, the head of his cock sliding in with a small squelch as you reached over the bed to grab the vibrator. You could see his lips twitch into a small frown, but he didn’t comment on your actions as he bottomed out.

Once you felt the familiar slide of his cock moving inside you, you turned on the vibrator, the buzzing noise causing his hips to stutter as he pulled back far enough to watch you place the bulbous head against your clit.

Instantly, a breathy curse escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked up in response to the intense vibrations against your needy bud. You could hear Tomura whimper from above you, his hips beginning to move as he spoke.

“Oh fuck…I-I can feel it even when i’m inside you…”

From above, Tomura felt chills of pleasure run down his spine. Everytime he moved, he could feel his cock buzzing from the pleasure, and everytime he pulled out far enough, the force of the vibrations would go straight to his tip. He groaned, his cock twitching as he moved faster, your slick causing his light blue pubes to stick together, a small string connecting the both of your bodies every time he moved away.

You could feel your pussy begin to drool, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his hips. His grunts became louder from above you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs, the plush flesh pooling out of his fingers as he rammed himself deeper into you.

“Fuck…you feel so fuckin’ good…hah…so tight, you gonna cum already?”

You didn’t even notice the way your cunt so desperately clung to his cock, the coil in your stomach forming so quickly you could only babble a whiny ‘yes’ as you pressed the vibrating head even harder against your clit.

Your throat burned as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm ripping through you in multiple waves, both the vibrator and his cock drawing it out until you were nearly crying. You pulled the vibrator away from your overstimulated clit, gasping out as he grasped your wrist and forced the toy back against your nub.

You yelped, a searing pain that felt way too good suddenly coursing through you, your body squirming under him as you sobbed in response to his actions.

“No! Aagh! Tom-Tomura! W-wait wait wait! It's too much!”

He giggled from above you, a breathy moan escaping him as his hand pressed the toy against you even harder as he spoke in a dark tone, his hips stuttering against your pulsing cunny.

“Fuckk…feels so good baby…I can feel the vibrator against my cock-shit! Oh god…mhn…just a bit more..!”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling from your face, your clit burning from overstimulation and pain. It felt so painful but with every second the vibrator was held firm on your clit the more you could feel another tight coil forming, ready to burst once again.

But this one was different.

Your legs began to tremble involuntarily, loud sobs escaping your throat as your cunny began pulsing against his cock in an almost painful vice. You didn’t even notice the sudden gush of liquid that squirted out of you, hitting Tomura’s pelvis and forcing his cock out of your gushing hole due to the intense pleasure of your second orgasm.

Tomura groaned in surprise as a sudden force caused his cock to pull away, watching as your sweet little cunny quivered and pulsed as you squirted against him, the strong yet short stream eventually dying down to a dribble, falling onto a pool of your fluids beneath you.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, and only after a few moments of staring, laughter began to bubble up in his chest, leaving his mouth in small manic giggles as he trailed his eyes back to your face.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you were. All sweaty, flushed and wrecked. Fat salty tears escaping your eyes as you shook, small pretty sobs escaping your lips as you laid out all blissed out and messy.

He leaned down to lick the salty tears off your face, his cock pulsing and throbbing with eagerness as he grinded against your sloppy pussy.

“Oh fuck…that was so fucking hot…holy shit..eheh…c’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Did you enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist for more!

Requests are open!

[nyahchan]

Ok, here we go. Cryptid x Reader, where the Reader is on a hike with friends and said friends prank the reader in a really mean way causing them to run off and start crying. The Cryptid stumbles upon reader crying and for some reason misinterprets this as reader seeking a mate and starts doing a mating dance thing that the reader starts out being confused by and a little scared but then they start giggling and think it's really pretty, but then that is misinterpreted as accepting the Cryptid and the Cryptid is soooo happy that this little human wants their eggs! And obviously the crying is just from nerves, so they'll just hum and sing until the get all sleepy and fuck their eggs into them. And they'll be so happy when the wake up safe in the Cryptid's nest and so full and pregnant!

Sorry if that was long and weird lol my brain just kept going.

A Cryptid's mate

Yandere cryptid x gn reader

TW:non-con, implied killing, toxic friends, attempted murder, monster fucking, somnophilia, extremely rough non-con, blood, breeding

Author's note:- you didn't specify the gender so I tried to write it in a way that any gender can read it with whatever pronouns as I made sure not to add any

For you guys see this

Humans are stupid and weird, they tell others to be careful of the red signs yet they themselves seem to ignore them.

You are unfortunately one of those foolish humans, you saw the signs yet you chose to ignore them, you knew better than anyone else that these people who stand in front of you laughing right now, calling themselves your "friends" are just wolves in sheeps's clothings. Your eyes start to blur as you remember being so excited when your "friends" asked you to go on a hiking trip with them, there was a slight voice in the back of your head, asking numerous questions about why they would suddenly ask you to hang out with them in an activity considering they never included you in anything, but you were naive and hopeful and you decided to agree.

During the hike, your "friends" kept on whispering to each other and giggling, you couldn't understand why until they reach the middle of the forest where suddenly one of your "friends" shoved you and another took your hiking bag and began rummaging through it, throwing everything on the forest floor.You couldn't understand why, you tried to tell them to stop, but they kept on snickering "There's a dangerous bug that fell in your bag from one of the trees!" said one of them as they threw all your belongings on the floor and then "accidentally" stepped on them. You tried to brush it off as a kind gesture that went wrong, you tried to smile through it but deep down you knew, they did it on purpose.

Now most of the items you had brought for the hike was ruined, your bag had mud on it as well as the items that didn't get ruined. You all continued walking through the forest, going deeper and deeper inside when you guys are met with a river with high current going downstream, there's a path over it to walk through. Your "friends" tell you to walk on the path first ,feeling pressured,you do exactly that but as soon as you do, one of them pushed you into the river,you see in the corner of your eyes that they are grinning as you fall into the river. Your immediate survival insticts start working and you grab onto a large stone in the river and push yourself out, your bag flowing down the river. You're gagging and choking on air as you frantically ask them why they did it and the only thing you get in response is "it's a prank relaxxx" but you can't anymore, tears run down your face, you eyes get blurry and without thinking straight , you run off to whatever direction your feet take you to, you don't look back, you don't look front either, you're vision too blurry from the tears as you cry and run, your wet clothes making lots of splashing noise as it hugs your body, your undergarments fully visible through your clothes now.

Before you know it, you're in the middle of yet another forest except here, there are no trail tracks for hikers, but you don't care, you're too busy crying at the thought that your own "friends" tried to kill you, you cry by yourself, or at least that's what you think as right behind you stands a strange creature, not human, but not full monster, a cryptid or whatever humans nowadays decide to call his specifies, but it looks human and for some reason, it's extremely handsome. The cryptid man watches you cry from behind, you're so drowned in sorrow that you don't even realize there's a monster man behind you. He watches you cry and ponders on what might be the reason for such an adorable little human to be crying all by themselves in his territory, the territory where cryptids live, the territory he rules, the territory far away from human knowledge?And then it suddenly clicks in his mind, you're crying because you can't find a mate. Good news for you, he's also looking for one!

The cryptid immediately jumps in front of you, making his presence known to you. You're immediately startled and frightened at the creature in front of you, you rub your eyes to wipe the tears away and take in the appearance of said creature, it's around 8 feet tall, is muscular, looks so weird yet also like a human, his face is chizzled and he looks so handso- you shake your head and then look at the creature with a look of terror, but that immediately turns to confusion as the cryptid starts doing this weird funky dance, to you, it's a goofy silly dance, to him, it's a mating ritual and the second you crack a smile and start giggling at his mating ritual, he thinks you have accepted his proposal, he's so happy that this cute little human wants to be his mate, he can barely wait in anticipation as he sees your wet clothes sticking to your absolutely delicious body! The cryptid immediately picks you up like paper and carries you even deeper into the forest, you start panicking and try to struggle in the creature's grip but it's futile. Upon seeing your struggle, the cryptid interprets it as you're probably just nerves, but that's okay! He can just hum and sing to you so you feel relaxed cause he needs to make sure his mate is relaxed as he's gonna get his little human pregnant with his seed! And so starts humming a song, occasionally singing it while he keeps taking you deeper and deeper into the forest, before long, you stop struggling and fall limp in his arms as you fall asleep. The cryptid is happy that you're finally relaxed as he places you in his lavish and comfortable nest.

Your clothes are no longer on your body, thrown somewhere in a forgotten corner. Your unconscious body spread apart as you're being split on his large girthy cock, all that can be heard is the wet clenching noises of his inhuman cock hitting deep inside you, slapping against your skin. He plays with your nipples, licking, turning and twisting them, earning a moan from your coma like sleep state. Moans escape your mouth so often even though you're asleep, he's glad that he decided to put you to bed before fucking and breeding your tiny little human body as you definitely would've gotten hurt otherwise as blood drips down from the skin that tore which was expected considering his cock is way too big, so girthy and meaty and the tip is like a mushroom. At one point, you wake up but the immense pain you feel immediately causes you to pass out. The cryptid kisses your lips as it feels itself nearing his release after 3 hours of constant abuse on your tiny body and within a few minutes, he ejaculates inside you, his eggs spilling so deep inside you, your stomach starts bloating a bit and then bloats a lot. You look absolutely divine , filled with his eggs! Although not all of them wi fertiloze, at least one or two will, and he's so excited to see his little human mate all round and pregnant with his spawns!

When you awaken again, you're lying on a fluffy nest, your eyes hazy, you feel dizzy, you feel heavier, you feel extremely sore and in pain to the point tears start trickling down your face, suddenly a pair of rough hands touch you from behind, one caressing your stomach while the other is caressing your face, wiping the tears off of it, you can't do anything but cry "I'm sorry, you must be in a lot of pain, there was lot of blood, don't worry I stitched you up" you wonder how this creature even knows human language, or where he got the tools for stitches or how he knew how to do it, your mind runs a 100 miles a second,youre too scared and exhausted to move so you just whimper when from the corner of your eyes, you spot familiar clothes, you recognize them immediately as the clothes of your "friends", your eyes widen as you see blood on those clothes and your eyes try to wander further to see the full scene but the cryptid immediately covers your eyes with one hand while the other is still caressing your bloates stomach, he coos in your ear "shh darling, you're still recovering, just relax and go back to sleep, you're gonna be a mother soon, you don't need to stress about anything, I got you new clothes as gift for taking my eggs so well, I just haven't washed them yet" is all you hear before passing out again. You're now stuck with this strange creature.

[yuikomorii]

// On a serious note, Yui in Ayato’s More Blood route might be the most complex version of her character. At first glance, she appears to be this fragile, helpless girl just in need of affection—someone you’re meant to sympathize with. Nevertheless, once you start paying attention to her actions rather than her words or expressions, a very different picture emerges.

Beneath that docile façade lies a deeply possessive and obsessive side that gradually becomes more prominent, to the point that she’s the villain in 2/3 endings.

In MB, there’s this widespread belief that Yui acted the way she did simply because she wanted to feel special to someone. But that is WRONG. Yui didn’t want to be special to just anyone, she wanted to be special to Ayato, and only Ayato. Her actions weren’t about a general longing for affection; they were laser-focused on him specifically.

This becomes obvious in Dark 2, where she literally admits, while under the influence of a truth serum, that she likes Ayato because of the pleasure his bites bring her, and because she finds him very cute. That’s it. Not because of his personality, or anything deeper. She straight-up says it’s about the physical sensations and his looks. What’s striking is that this shallow reasoning doesn’t change and she holds on to that mindset for 99% of the entire route.

Even Ayato wasn’t blind to this. In one of the MB short stories, he outright acknowledges that he knows she’s only using him for her own pleasure. And that realization is most likely the reason of his colder behavior towards her.

Here’s where things get even more telling. At this point, Yui and Ayato aren’t even dating nor being lovey-dovey, which means there’s no commitment between them. So when Ayato begins to distance himself and starts feeding on other girls, coming home covered in blood, Yui’s reaction is so extreme that she literally is on the verge of a panic attack. Yet it’s not because she’s worried about the girls themselves. No, she doesn’t care about them at all. Her only concern is that they are the ones receiving Ayato’s attention and pleasure. Her jealousy isn’t rooted in morality or empathy, it’s simply possessive and selfish.

The brute ending makes Yui’s shallow obsession painfully clear. Yui gets sexually frustrated and ends up cheating on Ayato with Ruki, but during that scene, the person she imagines biting her and the one she gets aroused by, isn’t Ruki at all. It’s Ayato. Despite Ruki being the one physically with her, the fantasy in her head and main source of her desire is still Ayato. Why? Because even if Ruki’s fangs could give her just as much physical pleasure, it didn’t matter, since he didn’t look like Ayato. And for Yui, that made all the difference.

The most infamous scene of Yui’s obsession is the Manservant ending. That’s where her desire for Ayato completely crosses the line from emotional fixation into outright possession and SA. In that ending, Yui puts Ayato in a vegetative state, rendering him completely unresponsive, and keeps him that way so she can use him as her personal pleasure doll. She basically strips him of absolutely everything just to ensure that he belongs to her and her alone. I believe one of the reasons why this ending is so disturbing is because she showed those signs throughout the route, which proved whatever she was doing there to be a natural escalation, rather than a shock factor.

credit to: dialovers-translations

Yui is indeed a sweet and kind girl, but she’s got so many underlying issues that sometimes I honestly feel like even the Diaboys are more reasonable than she is, lol. That said, I do appreciate that the writers didn’t paint her as some pure victim who always gets the short end of the stick. It’s actually refreshing to see a heroine who can be just as possessive, obsessive, selfish, and controlling as the love interests themselves.

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

Thunderbolts Sexuality Headcanons by a hyperfixated lesbian!!

Yelena Belova || Black Widow: aromantic, asexual. Sex repulsed, but in a queer platonic relationship with Bob. He's her platonic soulmate–an immediate connection, deeper and more intimate than the deepest of friendships. She definitely wouldn't care if he wanted to, idk, sleep with someone that isn't her. Because they aren't a couple. They have their own bond, they are each other's first priority–whatever else works for them is to be explored. It's not quite sibling-hood, it's far more affectionate than that... That being said, when it comes to the rest of the Thunderbolts, she definitely sees them as siblings. (let's pretend Antonia is included because Yelena would feel SUCH big sister energy with her. <3)

If she were to really delve into it, she's probably agender too, or a demigirl, maybe. However, she simply doesn't care enough about labels or pronouns–she dresses how she dresses, enjoys what she enjoys, feels how she feels–and doesn't care to explain it to anyone. Call her whatever pronouns you want to, she won't start an argument about it. She has a unique relationship to womanhood because of the Red Room–like it's a burden she has to carry without completely relating to what it means. An experience she holds, while not belonging to it entirely. It's a thin line. She cherishes it–but if she could be something else entirely–a rock, a wind, a beam of light–she'd prefer it. Enjoys exploring her gender expression/fashion, because she grew up completely unable to do that. She was robbed of an identity. She's making up for lost time.

Ava Starr || Ghost: Lesbian. Always feels an instant connection to queer people in general, without even knowing of their queerness. (We were ROBBED of the Ava-Antonia bond. RIP Antonia you're alive to me.) She's experienced strong comphet for years–and has flirted with men, but she can't imagine actually being with one. (I do hear the argument of her being bisexual, and I don't hate ghostwalker, but y'know.)

She's definitely demisexual, if you really delve into it. She falls in love fast, but the sexual attraction doesn't come in until way later. Like, she literally doesn't experience any physical attraction until she fully trusts someone–but she will hold their hand.

Has displayed behavior in the past that was deemed as flirtatious, but that's because she's definitely got some undiagnosed neurodivergency and can't quite grasp social cues, norms and boundaries. That being said, when she realized she was being perceived incorrectly, she really shut down the more playful/affectionate side of herself, becoming much more reserved.

Her relationship to gender is unspecified. She is Ghost, refer to her as such or not at all. (Maybe demigirl. Maybe! I doubt she knows. She's fine with she/her for sure.)

Antonia Dreykov || Taskmaster: Baby butch lesbian. That's also her gender identity: butch lesbian.

Was definitely in love with Lerato, that one girl from Black Widow. If she had survived the movie–and for argument’s sake, let's say she did–I’d loved to have seen her and Ava develop a bond–maybe even fall in love, I don't know.

Also, if she was alive, I know for a fact that Valentina would use her and Ava for PR stunts and rainbow capitalism during pride month. She has to win over the left somehow.

Robert “Bob” Reynolds || The Sentry: Bob is a hard one, because his sex drive had been completely disintegrated for a long time because of the drugs and the trauma–and his attraction to people was never a priority, never something he had time to consider. He was in too dark a place, with no guidance whatsoever. In that sense, I think he's 100% unlabeled. Even now that he's sober and slowly but surely regaining his sense of self, no label feels quite right.

He definitely grew up in a household where every little thing he did that was deemed even slightly more “feminine” got him called the f slur. Even if it was just gentility, or kindness, or softness.

Part of me thinks he could be panromantic. I don't think gender would make any difference to him at all–I think he's blind to it. He loves the person, the soul, regardless. I think he finds himself to definitely be on the ace spectrum too, maybe aceflux, but he's not sex repulsed. He's open to it. He had been sexually active way before the Sentry project, but not because of any desire to be so. Just because the other person wanted it, maybe, or as a way to get access to more drugs.)

Lastly, do I think he's 100% cis? Nah. Demiboy, maybe? As I said before, unlabeled. He'd describe his gender the same way as Yelena. If he could be a rock he'd choose to be a rock–but is still exploring his own gender expression, since he never had the chance to do so in the past.

John Walker || US Agent: American. 🦅🦅🦅

Jk, jk. Honestly, I think Walker's repressed. He definitely grew up thinking he's 100% straight, maybe sprinkle in some internalized homophobia. He's a US Military propaganda machine, an example of how America manipulates and uses veterans before their mental health goes to shit and they're no longer “useful,” thus are discarded instead. Do you think he's super sexually liberated? Nuh uh. Of course not.

He definitely likes woman. Female lean, for sure. That being said–he was hopelessly in love with Lamar Hoskins, the same way Achilles was hopelessly in love with Patroclus. Does it excuse the outburst? The entirety evil abuse of his power and authority? No, of course not, but his feelings for Lamar were incredibly layered.

I think Walker would feel uncomfortable at first, as the others would come out one by one–and he'd pretend not to care. Eventually, he'd develop a special bond of trust with Ava and tell her about Lamar. (all questioning men need an emotional support lesbian!!) Then she'd tell him that, “well my guy, that's kinda gay.” I don't think he'd ever really label himself as bisexual, saying he's like, 99% straight with like, some exceptions. The others endlessly tease him about it–and about all the sweaty men in his working out posters and magazines. That being said, he's 100% a cis man.

Alexei Shostakov || Red Guardian: Like, straight? Has gotten boners while looking at pictures of Lenin and always found the Winter Soldier strangely hot. He also sometimes says some suspicious shit about his old comrades–but overall? Pretty straight. Was raised pretty conservatively but never cared too much about people's sexuality. Now, when it comes to his own... He's like, thought about it ever since joining this group? Because he wants to relate with them? So he's like. “I could ride my comrade........ maybe..... no I couldn't-” and then imagines himself having say gex, gets grossed out, moves on. This is like, a monthly occurance. HE REALLY WISHES HE WAS INTO MEN, so that he could relate to “THE LITTLE GAY PEOPLE” in his team. But, what can you do? He likes Melina. And honestly–who can blame him? He's also very much cisgender.

James “Bucky” Barnes: Cis. Bisexual with a heavy male lean OR gay with some internalized homophobia. He got more comfortable with it in the 21st century, after TFATWS. For all the flirting he did with women, the moment Steve did the same, this boy was internally tweaking.

This should be no surprise to anyone–Bucky has been Marvel’s favorite source of queerbaiting for as long as he's been in the MCU. Between Steve and Sam, Bucky comes with the shield in more ways than one, that's for sure.

His intense gay staring at Sam? The way Steve's voice and words were enough to pierce through his winter soldier mind control? His utter devotion to each of them, the pedestal he had them on? The mention of his online dating history in TFATWS, in which he vaguely mentioned that a lot of the profiles he looked through had profile pictures of people with tigers and shit–suggesting that he was looking at men's profiles–and addressed ever-so-vaguely by the show runner, telling people to “keep watching” without ever giving queer audiences the catharsis they hoped for. Anyways. Sambucky and Stucky real!

Melissa “Mel” Gold: Cis. Also, the biggest bisexual to ever bisexual. Was she attracted to Bucky? Yes. (although I don't find their relationship romantic at all, more like, a failed attempt at guidance.) But she also has her weird, toxic, problematic devotion to Val. Val shaped her worldview when she was still young–and part of her will always be loyal to her, because by now it's instinct. And she no longer regards Val as infallible or admirable. She knows what Val is–she's seen her miscalculate, she's seen her messed up, she's seen her vulnerable and human. And she knows more than anyone that Val isn't a good person at all. Still. She's in too deep, now. I could make an entire separate post on this dynamic.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine: Sees men as a means to an end. Also seems women as a means to an end, but a hotter one. She's a cis lesbian, technically, but not culturally queer. She doesn't have an inch of internalized homophobia within her. She's fine. She doesn't care. She just cares about her public image, about having control–curated control.

Her marriage to Everett Ross was a PR move. She did have some genuine affection for him, for a while, but no attraction. Not really. So, she's not openly a lesbian, not at work, but also, she doesn't hide/deny it in private settings. She holds the power to squash any rumour that actually poses a threat, after all. And even if it got out somehow, she'd find her way around it.

She's the first to engage in meaningless rainbow capitalism–to change the profile pictures to rainbow logos–to come up with vaguely pride flag colored ‘New Avengers’ merch during pride month, and leave no trace of it the moment July hits. She's never cared to attend pride, never cared to fall deeply in love. Also, she only applies rainbow capitalism under democratic goverments. When the republicans are in office, It's radio-silent from miss Valentina. She squashes homophobia and bigotry in her personal life–but in business? She's no activist.

[nan-not-found]

Hi I was hoping to request a story about plus sized reader and bakugo. Focusing on the reader feeling self conscious and worrys about not being good enough for the hero he is. NSFW would be preferred. Thank you so much in advance. Even if you don't do it, thank you for writing fanfics.

My first request omg thank you!! This prompt is so good, omg. I hope I did it justice and wrote what you wanted!! <3

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"All of You"

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Plus-Sized!Reader Rating: 🔞 Mature / Explicit

Word Count: 1,658

CW: body insecurity, self-hate, self-doubt, self-body shaming, sexual content

THIS IS NSFW. All characters here are aged/time-skip. You've been warned. Continue reading below.

You didn’t belong here.

Not in the mirror. Not in his arms. Not in this bed you shared on nights when he returned from hero work bruised and tired and needing you more than sleep.

Your reflection didn’t lie — it never had. The rolls, the stretch marks, the way your stomach curved when you sat, or how your thighs refused to keep their distance no matter how hard you tried to pull them apart. You could fake confidence during the day, laugh off comments, post a selfie with the right angle and lighting… but at night, when you were naked in his bed and he looked at you like that —

It made something bitter bloom inside you.

He deserved someone better. Someone who looked like they belonged on his arm. A goddess with legs that didn’t rub raw in summer, whose lingerie didn’t roll down at the waist the second she sat up. You weren’t that. You were soft. Too soft.

“Oi.”

The gravel in his voice yanked you out of your spiral.

You turned your head, heart thudding like you’d been caught doing something wrong. Katsuki leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a towel low around his hips, skin still damp from the shower. His hair was tousled, spiky in that lazy, post-rinse way that made him look unfairly good.

But his eyes?

They weren’t lazy at all.

They were locked on you like a fuse had been lit.

You grabbed for your shirt — something oversized and shapeless — and tugged it down over your thighs. He watched you do it, jaw ticking.

“Thought I told you to wait in bed.”

“I was just…” You swallowed. “Didn’t want to mess your sheets.”

“Tch. Bullshit.”

You flinched. Not at the word, but the way he said it — like he already knew. Katsuki Bakugou didn’t say what he didn’t mean. He didn’t waste breath pretending.

So when he stepped forward, slow and bare and dangerous with that unreadable heat in his gaze, your stomach twisted in ways that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with him.

“Say it.”

“…What?”

“Whatever’s rotting your fuckin’ thoughts. Say it.”

You stared at him. The silence thickened. You thought if you held it long enough, maybe it would swallow you whole. But Katsuki never backed down. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“I…” You looked away, voice a whisper. “I don’t look like the kind of girl who should be with someone like you.”

There it was. The ugly, sour truth. Ripped out of your chest and laid bare.

And still — he didn’t move.

You braced yourself for indifference. For a sigh. For something cruel and careless. But when he finally crossed the room, it wasn’t with fire. It was with gravity.

Like he was being pulled toward you.

He stopped when he reached your side, towering over where you stood in front of the bedroom mirror. His voice dropped low, rough.

“I don’t need some cookie-cutter chick with a fake fuckin’ smile and airbrushed skin. I don’t want skinny arms that feel like they’ll snap if I touch them.”

His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His voice dipped deeper, raspier.

“I want you.”

The words hit harder than an explosion.

“Don’t matter how many people scream my name. Don’t matter how many hero rankings I climb. When I come home, I want you in my bed. I want your skin on mine. I want the way you look at me like I’m more than a fuckin’ weapon.”

You didn’t realize you were shaking until his hands came up, thumbs stroking slow and reverent over the dip of your waist. He was touching the place you hated the most — and looking at you like it was art.

“You think I don’t notice how you flinch when I see you like this?” he muttered. “Think I haven’t heard you cry in the shower when you think I’m asleep?”

Your chest squeezed so tight you could barely breathe.

“I know you feel like you ain’t enough,” he said. “But I’m tellin’ you now — you’re fuckin’ wrong.”

He leaned in.

“Because I can’t get enough of you.”

And then — he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Not gentle, not sweet — but real. His mouth claimed you like he’d waited too long. His hands gripped you like the softness they held was something holy. You whimpered into it, all your fear unraveling under the weight of his want.

And when he pulled back, eyes dark and voice thick with hunger, he said the words that shattered you:

“Now get your ass back in that bed. I’m not done showin’ you what you do to me.”

You barely made it to the bed before his mouth was on you again.

Bakugou didn’t kiss like a hero. He kissed like a man possessed — messy, bruising, starved. His lips crashed into yours, stealing breath and reason, hands already gripping at the hem of your shirt like it offended him just by existing.

“Off,” he growled.

Your fingers fumbled, heart thundering as you tugged the fabric up. He helped, yanking it over your head and tossing it across the room without looking. Then he pulled back — just for a second — and let his eyes roam.

Even now, half-naked under the dim light of his bedroom, arms instinctively curling in front of your stomach — but Katsuki grabbed your wrists before you could shield yourself, pinning them to your sides as his gaze darkened.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

The heat in his voice seared you.

“I wanna see you. All of you. You get that?” His hands ran over your belly, slow and reverent, like he was daring the world to challenge what he saw. “You think this shit makes you less? Hah. You’ve never looked hotter.”

His mouth descended — not on your lips this time, but lower.

You gasped as he kissed your stomach. Open-mouthed and wet. Then again. And again. Trailing down, tongue flicking along stretch marks like they were carved from gold.

“This,” he muttered between kisses. “Is mine.”

Your hips twitched.

He smirked against your skin. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Katsuki—”

He silenced you with a growl. “Lie back.”

You obeyed — breathless, trembling — as he pushed you flat against the mattress, crawling over you like a storm about to break. The towel around his waist slipped, and suddenly there was nothing between you.

You’d seen him naked before, but somehow this felt different. He was looming, hungry, his cock already hard and twitching, dragging along your thigh as he settled between your legs.

“Every fuckin’ time,” he murmured, voice like gravel and fire. “You make me lose my goddamn mind.”

He kissed down your chest, sucking marks into your soft flesh like he was branding you. His hands squeezed at your waist, your hips, your thighs — rough, possessive, hungry.

“Think about you when I’m on patrol. Get hard remembering how you sound when I touch you. Fuck, baby—” he pressed his cock against your heat, not entering, just there, teasing. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You whimpered. “Then show me.”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed into yours as he hooked your thighs around his waist, dragging you flush against him. He rolled his hips — slow at first, teasing. His cock slid against your soaked folds, the head catching on your clit with each pass.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re soaked.”

You could barely breathe. “Katsuki, please—”

He didn’t make you beg for long.

With one hand braced beside your head and the other guiding himself, he pushed in — inch by thick, aching inch — until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

Your back arched. “Oh fuck—”

He groaned into your neck. “Goddamn, baby. Tight as fuck.”

The stretch was intense — delicious and full and deep. He didn’t rush. He stayed buried, letting you adjust, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your throat, your jaw, your shoulder.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s how deep I wanna be. Always.”

When he pulled back, it was slow, dragging against every nerve — and then he slammed forward, snapping his hips so hard it knocked the breath out of you.

And then he did it again.

And again.

Each thrust was sharp, rough, perfect, rocking the bed, your thighs shaking around his waist as his grip dug into your flesh like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“You feel so good, fuck—gonna ruin you.”

“You already—already have,” you choked out.

He kissed you hard, swallowing your moans. “Say it again.”

You whimpered. “You ruin me.”

“Yeah?” he panted. “Say who’s makin’ you feel this good.”

“You, Katsuki—fuck, you—”

He growled and thrust harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans tangled with his as he fucked you like he needed it to breathe. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your nails dragging down his back, and he loved it.

“You’re fuckin’ mine,” he groaned into your ear. “You hear me? Every curve. Every mark. All mine.”

You came undone first.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave — your body tensing, eyes rolling back, a cry tearing from your throat as your walls clamped down around him.

“Shit—fuck, baby,” he snarled, hips stuttering.

He followed with a low, guttural moan, spilling into you with a shudder. His grip on your hips tightened, his body pressed flush to yours, riding out the aftershocks in messy, needy thrusts before finally collapsing onto your chest, panting.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Only the sound of ragged breathing, skin against skin, the thundering of two hearts in sync.

Then —

“I mean it,” he muttered into your collarbone.

You blinked, dazed. “Mean what?”

His lips pressed over your heart.

“You’re fuckin’ enough. You always have been.”

--

End.

Masterlist: Bakugou Masterlist: Other Fanfics

AN: This was... omfg this was so hot but also hard to write. I was this reader, still kind of am even through my weight loss journey. I know the pain of hating what's in the reflections. But, just as Katsuki would say, your weight does not define you. You are beautiful inside and out, all of you <3

[seleneprince]

Considering what I've read so far, Damian is in so far down in hell if he thinks he could just waltz back all yandere for Lucia after nearing killing her.

I mean, you mentioned she has a giant ass scar due to fact he tried to KILL her for crying out loud!

Oh boy, it's even worse than that.

Not only he goes full yandere on Lucia (that's only the name she has in my head btw, you're free to call her whatever you like. Her default name is Neglected Daughter, or N! Daughter), but he goes yandere for the FOUR OF THEM.

For his stepmother (that he tried to kill at some point too and even helped Talia on a few attempts of her own. All failing spectacularly), and for the youngest two, the twins. A boy and a girl. And did I mention Damian is only a year older than them?? Yeah..

He has no chill and absolutely no self-awareness. But in his case, it can be somewhat excused (not justified) due to the fucked up upbringing he had. The others not so much.

And yes, he left a scar on his half sister's throat after the attempt. Now it's a long, thin line across her throat, white and hard to see unless you're looking close. Still, she got used to wear collars and chokers to hide it, and relies on make up to conceal it sometimes. At first because it embarrassed her, but now because she doesn't want any questions or have people staring.

Damian went to that house with his head filled about how he was Batman's blood son, his only heir, his only child. About how he would reclaim his birthright by his father's side. Only for him to arrive and find out he has a half sister. Who's older than him. Who, by law, it won't be far fetched that she has preference to inherit Bruce's legacy. Obviously, Damian can't stand the idea and, influenced by his mother and grandfather and everything they've drilled on him, he tries to kill her to "protect his birtright", having no idea she was just a civilian and, therefore, not a threat (his only interactions to that date have been with vigilantes, so he assumed everyone in the manor was one)

With time, he might regret it. Because as weak and pathetic she is in his eyes, compared to Batman's legacy and everyone else at least, she's still his only blood sibling. Sure, he grows fond of the others and sees them as family, but blood has always carried a vital meaning for him. Something that can't be changed, that ties people to each other in an undeniable, deeper way. He feels that connection with his half sister, the same blood of the Bat running through their veins. The blood that stained his hands when he sliced her throat. And then due to some...circumstances, the neglected family suddenly are forced to spend more time near the batfam, sharing more space, and Damian gets to know them in a different light. The more he sees, the more he wants. That's his sister. His. They're both legacies, even if she's not completely worthy of it. They're cut from the same cloth. She belongs to him. The all do.

In his mind, yeah, he rationalises what he did was bad, but doesn't fully grasp just how bad it was for her. How traumatising. She hates him openly and he's genuinely confused. Because he's substained worse injuries, hell, he's inflicted worse injuries on his siblings, and no one reacted this way. No one looked at him with pure disdain for it, avoided his presence, glared at him with venom. He thinks she's being dramatic, another sign of her weakness. But that's okay. She can be weak. He'll protect her.

[thethronezone]

Love the father Primarch series. Keeps getting better.

The schooling bit did get me wondering how said Primarchs would react if they discovered they had a kid they hadn’t known about for whatever reason.

Mortarion tries to convince himself that it was better this way. He's not ... father-material. Surely, he would have made for an awful parent, ruined this child like his adoptive father ruined him. Yet his heart won't stop aching and raging inside his chest because what if? What if he had raised them? What if he had been given the chance? It's the way that chance was taken away from him that makes him feel like he's been robbed. And what about the child, his child? Do they feel the same? Or do they already loathe him? The thought of finding out scares him.

Fulgrim is caught between admiring his newly discovered offspring and seething with outrage over the fact that they were hidden from him. Look at them, perfect in every way. Why would someone hide them from him? Fulgrim would have approached fatherhood with open arms, would have treasured every moment and yet... those were stolen. All of it, taken from him, without him even knowing. But now he does know and Fulgrim promises, he's going to prove to everyone that he can still be a father.

In some distant past, Angron might have considered becoming a father at some point in his life, but that fantasy had been torn apart the same moment the nails were plunged into his skull. After that, he never even considered the possibility. Yet here they are, his child. And Angron rages. Not at the child, they haven't done anything wrong, even he can recognize that. But he feels hurt. Betrayed. Confused. And deep in his heart, frightened. Because what does he do now? He's not prepared for this, he does not know what to do or how to be a father. All these emotions turn into violent anger.

Magnus senses them before he sees them. He feels their soul and his heart aches over how similar it feels to his own. And then he sees them, a child sharing his red skin, and what little doubt there might have been in his mind disappears without a trace. He wants to get to know them, wants them to know him, wants to teach and nurture them, watch them grow. But Magnus is a proud, proud man and while he genuinely wants to get to know his child, he just can't let go of his proud, making it hard for him to truly connect with them.

Rather than angered, Perturabo's first reaction is one of frustration. Because this was not part of the plan. He never planned on having children and now he's suddenly got one? What is he supposed to do with it? It's only after he comes to terms with the fact that he's apparently a father than the rage sets in. Perturabo might not have wanted children but who had the gall to take that choice from him? To deny him the right to his own flesh and blood? It's the lack of control that angers him the most.

Who's child is it? Alpharius or Omegon's? They aren't sure, identical as they are. Omegon secretly hopes its his. Just this one thing that he's got that Alpharius doesn't. Alpharius knows this but doesn't mind and truly doesn't care who's the 'real' father. In the end, the child belongs to both of them. They are both are less angered by being lied to and more curious as to how they didn't learn of this sooner. They take pride in knowing everything about their surroundings, about being aware of every little detail. The fact that this went hidden for as long as it did is both intriguing and slightly infuriating. Will subtly infiltrate the child's life before they reveal themselves.

Lorgar tries to rationalize this as some sort of divine trial. It's the only way he can make sense of the situation and not get consumed by his feelings of anger and grief. No, he has to believe that there's some sort of deeper meaning and purpose being this, otherwise, why torment him like this? He already loves his child, treasures them, and he's only known of their existence for the briefest of moments. To imagine that they have been out there all along, that he's missed so much of their life already... It's a test of faith, Lorgar reminds himself. A holy trial, he says as his fingers dig into the surface of the table, leaving behind thick grooves.

Horus always wanted to be a father. And while he loves his legion, his astartes, they are not really his. He didn't raise them, he didn't cradle them in his arms when they were just a babe, didn't tuck them into bed. And Horus thought he would never get that. Yet here they are, his child. His blood and flesh. And before today, he didn't even know they existed. He is happy. He's angry. Sad, disappointed, overwhelmed. Someone kept them from him. Lied to him. It makes him want to kill someone. Depending on how old the kid is, how long they have been kept a secret, he just might. For now, he's got so much to catch up on.

I will not lie, Konrad will probably kill the mom for hiding away his kid all this time. And then he will spend a long time just staring at his child, blood still fresh on his face. They look so much like him, it both unsettles him and soothes some primal part of his brain that recognizes them as his offspring. But just how deep are the similarities? Is it just the surface or are they like him, twisted and broken on a fundamental level? He'd probably lock them away somewhere, a safe place where he doesn't have to see them, not because hates them (he doesn't) but because he's afraid of what he'll possibly see when he looks into their eyes.

Sanguinius has only known them for but a brief moment and he already adores them. It's not just because they looks so much like him, it's the future he sees when he looks at them. In a way, it feels like he already knows them. But they don't know him and oh, doesn't that just break his heart? To them, he's just a stranger, a man they happen to share half their blood with. That's why, Sanguinius tries not to be pushy and overwhelming with his affection, despite how much he yearns to spoil his child. He will take this nice and slow, proving himself to them as both a human being and as a father.

For some time, Corvus considers if he should just let them go. As much as this situation pains him, as betrayed as he feels, he genuinely questions if this was maybe for the child's best interest. Could he even be a proper father? Would they be happier without him in their life? Corvus hesitates. Doubts himself. Shoves his own feelings to the side as he focuses on what's truly best for his child. His child. He isn't sure what's worse. The fact that he's never even met them or that he's already ready to do anything for them, just to see them safe and happy.

It's about responsibility, Ferrus thinks. He needs to do what's right and that's to teach this child who's undoubtedly inherited too much of him. Are they strong? Fast? Durable? Intelligent? They need to learn control. And that's where he comes in. That's all there is to it. That's how he justifies bringing them into his fold. Ferrus doesn't need to be a father, he doesn't need to nurture or raise them. He doesn't even know where he would start with that. He couldn't... He can't raise a child. It was probably for the better that they were kept from him, he wouldn't have been a good father. Telling himself this makes it easier for Ferrus to come to terms with the fact that he's essentially missed out on his child's entire life.

Rogal is very displeased. Not with the fact that he has a child, that he accepts fairly quickly, but that they have been kept from him. He feels like its an injustice, that he's been lied and deceived. Robbed. But Rogal does not dwell on those feelings. Those will bring him nothing of fruition. No, what he does instead is focus on the present and the future. Rogal will bring his child into his fold and he will raise them like he was supposed to do from the beginning. He will be the father he's supposed to be and he will do this child right.

Vulkan feels like an awful human being and some irrational part of him blames himself. The fact that all this time, he had a child he didn't even know existed. He can't stop thinking about all those lost moments, the time he's missed out on. He feels like he should have known, somehow. Wants nothing more than to make up for lost time and get to know his kid. Practically throws himself into fatherhood, accepts it immediately though his enthusiasm and unconditional love can be slightly intimidating for someone who doesn't know him.

"They've got my eyes." That's all Lion can think when he comes face to face with his secret child for the first time. He recognizes other features as well, things like posture and expression. So much like him, but also not. He does not know how to feel about it. Part of him feels outraged. Furious. He's been lied to, deceived and the thought of it makes him want to hurt someone- But he won't, because he's not a beast. No, apparently, he's a father and while there's a lot of emotions there that Lion does not have the time to unpack, he knows one thing for sure; parenthood is a duty and he's always fulfilled his.

Even if Leman was blind, he'd still know the kid is his. He can smell it on them, parts of his own scent. Every Space Wolf has some of Leman's scent but with this kid, HIS kid, it's stronger. And once he figures out that he's a father? Yeah, he's taking this kid back with him to Fenris. Doesn't care if he's got to drag them there kicking and screaming, he's going to raise his kid in the way he thinks they should be raised. Tries to focus on the future so not to think about the past and the fact that someone HID HIS OWN FLESH AND BLOOD FROM HIM because that will only cause him to rage and fester in hatred.

Jaghatai feels robbed. He knows he would have loved being told that he was going to become a father, would have looked forward to all those moments where he could raise his child and watch them navigate in the world around them. And while Jaghatai will make sure to have his justice, that's not what's on the forefront of his mind. No, his child is. Because strangers as they may be to one another, they are still family, they are still his blood, and Jaghatai still thinks he's got the chance to be a father. Everything is not lost and it's better to start late than never.

Poor Roboute. On the outside, he's professional, dignified in regards to this startling revelation. Barely a twitch on his face as he learns that he's got a child, a child that's been kept a secret from him for years. But inside, he's a mess of emotions. He feels lost, betrayed, angry, sad. But he can't express any of that because people are looking at him and expects so much. So, while his heart aches and screams for answers, he calmly tells his aides to bring the child to him, with a full Ultramarine escort, of course. It's only when Roboute is alone that he buries his face in his hands and allows his emotions to run their course.

[serumandsteel]

The Shape of Silence | pt 3

series masterlist

pairing: tfatws bucky x (f) reader

summary: after Walker blows the op, the team is left scrambling to pick up the pieces. But the real damage hits later. when you finally realise that years of running from Bucky didn’t erase the feelings, only buried them deeper. now, forced into close quarters and out of excuses, you have to face him… and everything you tried to forget. that one night in Wakanda. the night that changed everything finally comes crashing back. And this time, it just might break you.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: emotional trauma, ANGSTYY, unresolved tension, swearing... light themes of SMUTT 18+

a/n: ahhhh last chapter for my mini series! thankyouu for reading... also first time writing smut so go easy on me :) taking requests for inspo for thunderbolts bucky... im feeling I want to continue to explore this little world I have made. also would love a nickname for this reader in this series...so inbox is open!

But Bucky didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just stared at you.

And you stared right back, bracing for whatever came next, the confrontation, the anger, the past you hadn’t outrun.

Because nothing about this was going to go the way you wanted it to.

Footsteps thundered in the distance. Sam emerged through the dust, breath ragged, gun lowered at his side.

But Bucky didn’t look away. Not when Sam stopped. Not when the cold wind bit through the warehouse’s broken walls. Not when reality finally caught up to both of you.

He looked older, lines carved deeper across his brow, stubble clinging to his jaw like rest hadn’t touched him in days. But his eyes were the same.

God, those eyes. 

Still impossibly blue. Still heavy with the weight of too many lives. But now you could see the years behind them, the grief, the healing. The hurt.

And it hit you all over again.

They were the first thing you remembered clearly from the night it all changed. The night you stopped seeing him as Bucky Barnes and started seeing him as James. Just James. Not a mission. Not a ghost. Not Steve’s responsibility.

But a person.

Three years gone. Three years of silence, of hiding and now, here you were, standing in front of the one person you tried so hard to stay away from.

Not because you didn’t care.

But because you did. Too much.

“What the hell happened?”

Sam’s voice snapped both you and Bucky out of the thoughts that had locked you in place. His eyes swept the room, landing on Walker first, who was casually brushing dirt off his shoulders like he hadn’t nearly blown the entire operation.

“You’re late,” Walker muttered.

Sam stalked closer, voice sharp. “And you’re lucky you’re still upright.”

Walker scoffed. “I took initiative. There was a window. I made a call.”

“You made a mess,” Sam snapped. “You went in loud. No backup, no coordination. You compromised the mission and almost got the rest of us killed.”

“I handled it.”

You let out a dry laugh, wiping a smear of dried blood off your hand. “Handled it? You mean the part where you charged in without a plan and I had to clean it up?”

Walker’s eyes narrowed, like he’d only just remembered you existed. “Right. Her.”

He looked you up and down like you didn’t belong. Like you were just some stray who wandered into the wrong war zone.

“Still not sure who the hell you even are,” he said. “Some off-book tagalong Sam picked up? You were real quiet until you decided to play hero.”

You stepped forward, not aggressive.  Just unflinching. “Just because you call yourself Captain America doesn’t mean you are him.”

Walker stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, voice cool. Controlled. “Steve earned that title. You bought it. There’s a difference.”

Bucky flinched slightly at the name, but his eyes stayed locked on Walker.

Walker took a step toward you, jaw tight. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Good,” you said. “Because I’m not giving any. I’m just cleaning up the wreckage.”

Sam stepped in then, placing a hand on Walker’s chest. “Back off.”

But Walker didn’t. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us. Walks in like she knows everything. What—everyone’s just following her lead now? Because she’s good with a gun and knows how to give orders?”

His mouth curled. “Or is it something else?”

You didn’t say a word. But Bucky did.

He moved before he could stop himself.

“Shut your mouth.”

Walker turned toward him. “Or what?”

But the look in Bucky’s eyes wasn’t something Walker could hold. Wounded. Restrained. On the verge of something worse.

“Walk away,” Bucky said through clenched teeth. “Before you say something you can’t come back from.”

Walker’s mouth twisted into something smug. “Touchy.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t swing. Didn’t raise his voice. He just stared Walker down for one long, agonising beat. Then turned and walked away, fast and stiff, like he was barely holding himself together.

Sam watched him go, exhaling hard. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Goddamn.”

You didn’t follow. You didn’t trust yourself to.

Instead, you stood in the rubble of a blown mission and an even more fucked-up reunion, your pulse still hammering, hands still shaking.

Walker huffed, rolled his eyes. “I’ll find my own transport.”

“Do that,” Sam said, not even sparing him a glance.

The car rumbled steadily along the broken road. Trees blurred past. Faded signage. Empty intersections. You didn’t see any of it.

You weren’t in the car. Not really.

You were floating somewhere above it, your body moving through the motions while your mind spun off into nothing. Not out of fear. Not even shock. Just… self-preservation.

You’d seen Bucky’s face. The way he’d looked at you. The way he hadn’t looked away and it had carved something open inside you that you weren’t ready to name.

So you let the world blur. Let the silence settle around your shoulders like smoke. You stayed in that space until—

“Hey.” Sam’s voice cut through the fog like a sharp edge. You blinked. Looked over. His eyes flicked back at you in the rearview mirror, concerned but casual.

“You good?” he asked. Not pushy. Just present.

You nodded once. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He didn’t buy it, not really. But he let it slide. For now.

A few more miles passed in silence before he spoke again. Lighter this time.

“So… you gonna tell me where the hell you’ve been, or do I gotta guess?”

You smirked faintly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes fixed on the blur outside the window. “Greece. Mexico. Indonesia for a hot minute. Then some nowhere town in Canada. Mostly off-grid. Nothing stable. Just... running. Always moving.”

“Running from who?” Sam asked, one brow lifting.

Your gaze shifted to meet his in the rearview mirror. “From myself, I guess. The past. The present. I don’t even know anymore.”

You hesitated, the truth dragging itself up from somewhere raw. “I just… I can’t seem to stop. Can’t settle.” The confession sat heavy in the air.

Sam let out a low whistle. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You keeping tabs on us all that time?” You shrugged. “Some. Enough.”

Sam nodded, casting a glance toward Bucky beside him, then back at you. “You know he was looking for you.” His head tilted subtly in Bucky’s direction.

That landed like a punch to the chest. You didn’t answer.

Sam exhaled quietly. “Just sayin’. He never stopped.”

More silence. Then:

“I thought it’d be easier,” you said, almost to yourself. “Staying away. Keeping the mess contained. But turns out ghosts follow you no matter how far you run.”

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah, well. We’ve all got ghosts. Some louder than others.”

You offered a quiet smile. “Yours still nagging you?”

“Only when I try to get five minutes of peace,” he muttered. “And when Torres messes with my Spotify playlist.”

That earned a small laugh from you. Genuine.

From the passenger seat, Bucky stirred slightly - just a shift of his shoulders, a flicker of something like familiarity in his profile. Then, quietly, without turning around “Still listening to that god-awful Marvin Gaye remix?”

Your head snapped up. Bucky’s tone was dry. Flat. But there was a spark there, something wry and a little too familiar. Like it slipped out before he could stop it. Sam groaned. “Oh, come on. We’re not doing this again.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “You still hate that album?” Bucky finally looked over his shoulder at you, just for a second. “Wasn’t music. It was noise.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was funk. There's a difference.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched, just slightly. It wasn’t a smile, not really. But it was close. The air didn’t feel quite so heavy after that. Still tense. Still charged. But no longer choking.

And for the first time since the dust had settled in that warehouse, you let yourself believe maybe, just maybe this wasn’t unsalvageable after all.

The car rolled to a stop outside a sleek, unassuming house nestled at the edge of a quiet, tree-lined road. It was a far cry from the last safe house Sam had tucked you away in - this actually seemed to have a functioning heating system. This place was modern, updated. It would suffice for the night.

Sam was the first to speak, his tone low as he hauled his gear from the trunk. “We’ve all got rooms. One night. Wheels up at six.”

You didn’t respond. Just nodded and shouldered your duffel, every bone in your body aching as you followed them up the steps.

Inside, the house felt too clean. Too still. The kind of quiet that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed. Soft lighting. Hardwood floors. Real furniture. Like a home built for someone who didn’t wake up from nightmares or run away from their problems.

You moved through the space like a ghost. Detached. Weightless.

Sam mumbled something about grabbing a shower and disappeared down the hall. Bucky lingered. He always did.

He stood there in the low light, jaw tight, hands in his pockets. Close enough to feel the tension rolling off him, but still keeping his distance.

“We should talk,” he said, voice quiet.

You turned halfway. Exhaustion bled through your features. “Not tonight.”

“But—”

“Please, Bucky,” you cut him off, your voice flat. “Not tonight.”

He didn’t argue. Just watched you walk away. Again.

You felt the weight of his stare on your back all the way down the hall.

You knew you owed him a conversation. Hell, you owed him a thousand of them. But not like this. Not with your heart still in your throat and your thoughts scrambled beyond recognition.

You needed to get your head straight. You needed a goddamn shower. And you needed that pounding behind your eyes to ease up before you said something you couldn’t take back.

Seeing him again today had cracked something open in you.

It wasn’t just shock. It was grief. Guilt. Longing. And something else, something heavier. The slow, dawning realisation that maybe you were the one who broke what could’ve been fixed.

You hadn’t just left. You’d disappeared. Cut the cord and never looked back, or at least tried to convince yourself you hadn’t.

And now here he was. Looking at you like you were still the same. Like maybe, if you reached back, he’d still be there.

But you weren’t sure you deserved that anymore.

You weren’t sure you could even handle the fallout of what he’d say once you finally let him speak.

You shut the bedroom door behind you and leaned against it, eyes closed. Your pulse still hadn’t calmed.

You fucked up.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure how to fix it.

Sleep never came easy anymore. But tonight, exhaustion didn’t just claim you, it dragged you under like a riptide, pulling you fast and deep into memory.

Back to Wakanda. Back to that night. The first and last night with him. The night before everything went to hell.

The night you let yourself forget. Forget the war looming at your doorstep. Forget what you’d both done. Forget the versions of yourselves that didn’t deserve this kind of softness.

You let it all fall away — and for once, you let yourself feel.

Years of tension, of glances and near-misses, of guilt and yearning, came crashing down to that single night. The one you never talk about. The one you can’t forget.

And he was there. Bucky.

Leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a thin white shirt clinging to him from the heat of the day. His hair was loose around his shoulders, wild and soft. And his eyes — God, those eyes fixed on you like you were something he still didn’t quite believe was real.

You knew this night.

You’d relived it a hundred times in your mind. Only now, in the pull of sleep, you were living it again. You’d been dancing around this for weeks. Months. Years, really.

And now you were close. Too close. Inches. Breaths. The space between you vibrated with tension, years of it, unspoken and coiled like a spring. His hand hovered near your jaw, hesitant, reverent — like touching you might make you vanish.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You gave him a sad, crooked smile. “You already have. So have I.”

Then he touched you. Rough, warm, grounding. You leaned into his palm like your body had been waiting for this. Like you were starving and this was the first real thing you’d tasted in months.

You didn’t remember who kissed who first. Only that it felt like falling. Like drowning.

It was desperate and aching — mouths crashing together, breaths stolen between kisses. Like you both knew it wouldn’t last. Like you’d already made peace with the fallout.

But for now, in this sliver of stolen time, you let yourselves fall.

His hands cupped your face, fingers slipping into your hair. The kiss deepened, messy and gasping, his tongue sliding against yours like he wanted to consume you. You tugged at his shirt, fingers skating over the scars across his chest, and he shuddered at the contact.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasped, thumb brushing your lower lip. There was fear in his voice. Like this was hope, and hope was dangerous.

“I do,” you whispered, the words falling from your mouth like truth. “I fucking do.”

That was all it took.

He stripped you down like a man on the edge — quick, trembling hands pulling fabric from skin. You yanked him close by the belt loops of his pants, grounding yourself in the hard lines of his body. You needed more. Needed him like air.

The bed creaked as your back hit the mattress, and he followed, crawling over you like gravity had its own pull.

“Bucky,” you breathed, and something in him broke.

He kissed you harder, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip, the cold press of vibranium anchoring you to the now. When he pushed inside, it was slow, deliberate. Thick and stretching, almost too much after the ache of waiting.

You gasped, body arching. He stilled instantly.

“You okay?” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours, voice so tender it burned.

You nodded, lips brushing his. “Move. Please.”

He obeyed, hips rolling, pace steady, deep. Every thrust was weighted, like he was memorizing the shape of you from the inside. You held onto him, arms wrapped tight, legs locking around his waist like you could keep him there if you just held on hard enough.

Every movement felt like goodbye. Every kiss like a memory in the making. Like you were both pretending this didn’t have to end.

“God, you feel like fucking heaven,” he groaned into your neck. His metal fingers slipped between your legs, circling your clit with practiced, focused pressure.

Your hips jerked. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”

“I won’t,” he swore, voice tight with restraint. “Not until you come. Not until you fall apart for me.”

And you did. With a cry torn from your throat, you shattered, body clenching around him, mind blank with pleasure. You came hard, every nerve lit up, and he followed with a broken sound, hips stuttering as he spilled into you.

Then he held you. Just held you.

His breath was ragged against your neck. Your fingers threaded into his hair. His weight was solid over you, grounding, safe.

Neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to.

And then, it slipped away.

The heat of his skin. The weight of his body. The sound of his breath.

Gone.

You woke with a jolt, breath catching, chest heaving like you’d just been yanked from underwater.

The sheets were damp with sweat. The room was still dark, pre-dawn light barely filtering through the safehouse blinds. Your heart was pounding.

Too far. You’d let it go too far.

That dream, no, that memory — it wasn’t supposed to last that long. You always woke up before that part. Before the way he touched you made it impossible to lie to yourself. Before the sound of his voice made your ribs ache. Before your body reminded you how much it still wanted him. Before you remembered what it felt like to love him.

Because that’s what it was. That’s what it always was. Love.

And it broke you open like it was new.

You sat up fast, pressing the heel of your hand to your chest like you could shove the feeling back down. Like you could contain it this time. Like it wouldn’t ruin everything.

But it was already too late. Three years of running. Three years of silence. And still, you’d dreamt of him.

You had to get out. Now.

You were up and moving before your thoughts could catch up, shoving gear into your bag, hands shaking. No time for a plan. No message for Sam. You couldn’t stay. Not after this. Not when the truth was so loud it hurt.

You didn’t even notice the door open.

“Where are you going?” The voice behind you froze you mid-step.

Bucky.

You turned slowly, like your limbs were moving through sand. He was in the doorway, jaw tight, eyes dark and tired. He’d clearly just woken up, but one look at your face and he was wide awake.

“I—” you started, but the words got stuck.

He took a step forward. “You were leaving.”

Silence.

You didn’t deny it.

He let out a short, bitter breath and nodded. “Of course you were.”

“Don’t,” you said softly. “Don’t do that. You don’t understand.”

“Then help me.” His voice cracked on the edges. “Because I’ve been trying to for three fucking years.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing hard. “That night… I’ve tried so hard to forget it. I thought if I stayed away long enough, if I buried it deep enough, I’d stop feeling this way.”

“And did it work?” he asked, voice quieter now. Broken.

You met his eyes. “No. It didn’t.”

He took another step, like he was afraid you might bolt. “I looked for you. I thought maybe you were dead. Or that I’d imagined it all. I thought… maybe it hadn’t meant as much to you.”

“It meant too much,” you whispered. “That’s why I ran.”

“Then stop running.” His voice dropped, soft but certain. “I’m not asking for all of it. Not right now. I just want a chance. A real one. We can start over, slow, careful. However you need.”

Your lip trembled. You shook your head once, then twice, then stopped. He stepped closer. Close enough to touch. “I still want you,” he said. “Even after everything. Especially after everything.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to be with you and not fall apart.” His hand hovered at your side, not touching, but close enough to feel. “Then fall apart. I’ll be here when you do.”

You closed the distance.

Not with a kiss. Not with words. Just a lean. A small tilt of your body into his, like a truce. Like surrender.

His arms came around you, tentative at first, then tighter. He held you like you might slip away again, but this time, he wasn’t letting go.

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. But you didn’t move. And you didn’t run.

That would have to be enough, for now.

a/n: requests are open!! hope y'all enjoyed the absolute depression of a fic I wrote xx

Tag list: @inf4ntdeath @starfly-nicole @awkwardgiraffe726 @mcira @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[bitchinbarzal]

No i’m Not In Love | J Woll

inspired by “no i’m not in love” by tate mcrae

summary: everyone knew you were in love with joey, except you.

-

You weren’t in love with Joey.

You weren’t.

It didn’t matter that you spent almost every night at his place, your clothes slowly mixing in with his, your shampoo sitting in his shower like it belonged there. It didn’t matter that you started reaching for his sweatshirts instead of your own, or that your Spotify Wrapped had an absurd amount of songs that he had played around you.

It wasn’t love. It was convenient. Comfortable.

And if your friends kept saying otherwise, well, they didn’t know what they were talking about.

“Not in love, huh?” Kniesy had asked one night when he walked in on you cooking in Joseph’s kitchen, wearing his hoodie, using the spare key Joey had given you months ago.

“Not in love” you had replied easily, shoving a chip in your mouth to prove just how little you cared.

You didn’t care that Joe looked for you in a crowded bar before even ordering his first drink. You didn’t care that he always had your favorite snacks in his apartment, or that he instinctively reached for your hand when you walked together. That was just how you two were.

You were best friends, friends who sometimes ended up tangled in the sheets together, but it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

Except it was different when you saw him with someone else. When you caught his eyes lingering on some girl across the room, and your stomach twisted in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“You okay?” Mitch asked one night, eyes flicking between you and where Joe was talking to a girl near the bar.

“Fine” you said quickly, taking a sip of your drink “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Mitch gave you a look, the kind that made you want to throw your drink in his face “You don’t have to lie to me, you know”

“I’m not lying”

“You’re literally gripping your glass so hard it might break”

You forced yourself to relax, ignoring the knowing smirk on Mitch’s face “We’re just friends” you insisted “I don’t care who he talks to”

“Sure” Mitch said, his tone so patronizing you almost smacked him.

You rolled your eyes, but your gaze drifted back to Joseph anyway. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t.

So what if the next time you and Joe ended up in bed together, you kissed him a little harder? So what if you clung to him a little longer, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his back? It didn’t mean anything.

“You don’t have to do this” Joey murmured one night, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“Do what?”

“Pretend this doesn’t mean something to you”

Your breath hitched “It doesn’t”

Joey just looked at you, his expression so soft, so open, it made your heart ache “Okay” he said finally, his voice quiet “If that’s what you want to believe”

It wasn’t what you wanted to believe. It was what you had to believe. Because if you admitted what this really was — if you admitted what he really meant to you — then everything would change.

And change was terrifying.

But one night, Joey kissed you differently. Not with heat, not with desperation, but with something deeper, something softer. And you kissed him back, and it felt like a confession, like something you couldn’t take back even if you tried.

And when you pulled away, breathless, you realised the truth.

You were in love with Joseph Woll.

And maybe you had been all along.

The realization hit you like a truck, and suddenly, every moment between you two made sense. The late-night drives where you sat in comfortable silence. The way he always kept your favorite snacks in his apartment. The soft looks he gave you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

It wasn’t just convenience. It never had been.

But what now? Could you tell him? Could you risk ruining whatever this was between you?

Joe deserved someone who could say it. Someone who wasn’t too afraid to admit what was so obvious to everyone else. And yet, when you looked at him, really looked at him, you knew you couldn’t go back to pretending.

So the next time he kissed you, you didn’t stop yourself.

“I think…” you started, hesitating as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin “I think I might—”

“Love me?” he finished, smiling like he already knew the answer.

You let out a breathless laugh “Yeah. Yeah, I think I might”

His lips found yours again, and this time, there was no pretending.

This time, it was real.