#and said “no... it could be Innocence.”

[mooningningg]

notes, this was a lovely request from a anon.

★ Roommate!Sukuna brings another girl home.

You barely got past the first bite of your noodles when the front door opened with a loud creak.

Then: a giggle. Shrill. Bubbly. Way too excited for a weeknight.

You didn’t even have to look. You knew.

Sukuna’s voice followed, deep and amused, laced with that fake charm he only ever used when he wanted something easy.

“Yeah, yeah. Shoes off,” he muttered, and you could already picture the way he was barely holding the door open for her, head tilted with boredom. “Unless you wanna wipe out on my floor.”

Another laugh. You rolled your eyes.

Of course.

Of fucking course he’d bring a girl home tonight. Not even two days after he ruined your date. The guy didn’t even make it to the couch before Sukuna opened the door shirtless and said, “Nah.”

And now this?

You stayed quiet, eyes on the TV, bowl in your lap. You didn’t even flinch when they walked in, but you could feel it — that low, smug heat on the side of your face as Sukuna made sure you saw him.

He was shirtless. Naturally. Sweatpants slung low. One arm slung lazily across her waist like she was some prize he barely cared to carry.

You glanced up.

His eyes were already on you.

And when your gaze met his — narrowed, unimpressed — he didn’t look away. He just smirked.

“Don’t wait up, princess,” he said, voice smooth and low, tugging the girl toward the hallway.

That did it.

You watched them disappear around the corner, listened to the click of his bedroom door shutting, and then very calmly stood up.

You grabbed your phone.

Connected to the Bluetooth speaker in his room.

And you played the most annoying thing you could think of.

“Baby Shark.”

At full volume.

The walls shook.

It took five seconds. Maybe ten.

Then—

SLAM.

The door burst open so hard it rattled the hallway mirror.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sukuna growled, appearing shirtless and already pissed, his hair half-tousled and chest rising with visible irritation.

You didn’t even pretend to look innocent. You were already leaning against the counter, sipping from a juice box like it was wine.

“I’m sorry,” you said flatly, “do you hear music? That’s weird.”

He stormed toward you, jaw tight, hands flexing. “You’re really doing this shit again?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Just trying to enjoy my night. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

He stopped right in front of you. Close. Annoyingly so. Your face tilted up slightly to meet his glare.

“You’re jealous,” he accused, voice low and dangerous.

You scoffed. “Of that girl? With the spray tan and two brain cells between her and her crop top?”

“She’s hot.”

“She’s a walking vape ad.”

He leaned in, teeth gritting. “You’ve got five seconds to stop acting like a brat—”

“Or what?” you shot back. “You’ll throw me out too?”

He stared at you. His mouth twitched. His hand curled at his side.

Then, without warning, he turned sharply on his heel and stalked back down the hallway.

You blinked.

Then froze.

Inside his room, muffled but still clear, you heard it:

“Put your shoes on.”

There was a pause. You could hear the girl rustling around, confused.

“Wait—what? Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

Another pause. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Sukuna snapped. “She did.”

A beat of silence.

And then hurried steps.

You were still standing near the counter when the girl reappeared, awkwardly pulling on one boot while holding her purse under her arm. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. Just kept her eyes down, humiliated.

Sukuna followed behind her, casually cracking his neck, jaw still tight like he was clenching back everything he wanted to say.

He opened the door.

She slipped out without a goodbye.

He didn’t wait for her to reach the steps. Just slammed the door shut behind her, hard enough to make the walls shake.

Then silence.

He didn’t look at you right away. Just stood there, back to you, hands still balled at his sides.

You stared. Heat crawled down your spine. You swallowed.

He turned slowly.

And when his eyes met yours — low, heavy, still sharp — he finally said it:

“You knew she wasn’t staying.”

His voice was calm. Way too calm. That calm that came before the storm with him — tight control stretched thin.

You didn’t reply.

He walked toward you. No rush. Just long, heavy steps across the wooden floor. You stayed where you were, back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest.

“You think I didn’t know what you were doing?” he asked, voice thick. “Cutting the Wi-Fi? Blasting that shit through my speaker? Dropping a whole-ass jar outside my door like a raccoon broke in?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe next time, don’t bring someone home like you didn’t ruin my date two nights ago.”

He stopped right in front of you again. Closer now.

“You think that little accountant was gonna survive five minutes with you?”

You blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

He didn’t answer. His chest was rising and falling. Eyes flicking between yours like he wanted to say something, but didn’t trust himself to say it out loud.

Then, low and rough:

“You don’t bring guys home anymore.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. A territorial claim dressed in jealousy.

“And you don’t get to bring girls here and act like I won’t say shit about it,” you shot back.

He tilted his head.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

You blinked. “I didn’t ask—”

“She sat on my bed and I felt sick.”

You froze.

“She touched your hoodie,” he muttered, voice quiet, like it burned his throat to admit it. “It’s still on my bed.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, close enough to feel the warmth off his bare skin.

“She’s not you,” he said.

Then he walked away.

And left you speechless.

Taglist, @humeysaga.

[dollgxtz]

Can you write a short somno fic for Sylus but he’s already been doing it for awhile? And he feels so damn guilty about it but genuinely can’t stop because it’s like an addiction to him now? :)

In Somno

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, nonconsensual somnophilia, noncon, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, facials

Summary: Sylus just can't help himself when it comes to your sleeping body <33

Over and over he'd tell himself how wrong this was. How terrible he was for using you like this. All he could think about when he picked you up now was how long it would be before he got to cum on your pretty face again. How could he even think such thoughts? All that guilt would quickly subside as soon as you started yawning though.

Yes, even a simple yawn from you was enough to get him rock hard now.

AN: Sorry anon, I know you said "short" but I got really excited and got carried away. So lets just say this is my version of a short fic LOL. Also thank you thank you thank youuuu for requesting this, I've been itching to write another somno fic hehehe. Btw the title means “In slumber” in Latin!!! :33

He hadn't intended for things to escalate to this point.

Normally, Sylus was a master of self-control, able to reign in his desires with ease. But on that particular day, something had been stirred within him, something that he couldn't quite explain. It had started when he saw you lying in his bed, fast asleep and naked, after a long and exhausting mission. You'd taken a shower and had passed right out. Your fatigue had been palpable, and he had gone to cover you with a blanket, his hand accidentally brushing against the side of your breast.

Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't meant to touch you like...that. His hand lingered for a moment, a mere whisper of contact, before he moved it away as if it burned. He stared at you, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the turmoil his innocent touch had ignited within him. He had always prided himself on his ability to control himself. Yet here he was, his heart pounding, his body betraying him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was just a touch, he told himself. A harmless, accidental touch. But his body refused to listen, his mind refusing to let go of the softness of your skin, the warmth that had radiated from you. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to touch you again, to trace the curve of your breast, to feel more of your warmth.

He knew he should leave, let you rest, should respect your sleep. But he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He had seen you naked before, had seen you sleep countless times. But this was different. This time, he felt something stirring within his groin as he watched your naked chest rise with each breath. Your beautiful, peaceful face was messing with his senses. He tried to dismiss it, to attribute it to the fatigue of the long day, the heat of the room, anything but the truth.

The truth was, you two hadn't had much time for each other lately, and even less for anything intimate. The lack of physical connection had left him pent up, achingly so. He couldn't remember the last time you'd both had a moment to yourselves, a moment to explore each other's desires and needs.

As he sat there, looking at you, he couldn't help but feel a surge of longing. He shut his eyes briefly, trying to calm himself down, but it was no use. Better to quell the urge to touch you now, and then forget about this, he figured. He reached back over, his hand gently touching the soft roundness of your breast, giving it a light squeeze. The touch sent a spark of electricity through his body, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

Shit. He had definitely just made it worse.

You stirred, letting out a soft whine, and he felt his heart skip a beat. The sound of your voice was like music to his ears, a sweet melody that only added to his arousal. He quickly withdrew his hand, however, as you began to shift and turn your body away from him in your sleep.

Your butt was now completely visible to him. His heart dropped into his stomach. You had always been the only one to undo his calm, to make him feel this way. He ran his fingers through his hair, now having an internal battle within himself. It felt wrong...undeniably wrong...and yet…

One thing had led to another, and he found himself carefully pushing his fingers inside your wet folds. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he was breathless as your cunt sucked in his fingers bit by bit. The feeling of your inner walls clamping down on his fingers sent his mind into a frenzy, and he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to be inside you.

How wet you'd be.

How tight you'd be.

His cock was rock hard and throbbing in his boxers, pressing against the back of your leg. He pressed himself against your butt lightly, trying to relieve some of the ache that had been building up inside him.

It wasn't enough.

You began to squirm, your body shifting slightly in your sleep, and he froze. He didn't remove his fingers, but ceased his motions...as if pausing could erase what he’d just done. He watched you closely, heart pounding, waiting to see if your eyes would open. If they did, he told himself, he’d just say you two had dozed off like that. Just a sleepy accident.

The lie formed easily in his mind, but the weight of it hit hard. He had never lied to you before...and now, standing on the edge of it, he felt something bitter twist in his gut. Shame crept up his spine, hot and sharp, settling in his face until his skin burned. But he didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. He smothered the guilt with silence, burying it under the oldest excuse in the book: what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

As you pressed your backside against him, unknowingly in your sleep, he felt a surge of desire wash over him, replacing all guilt and shame with a primal, aching need. The pain in his groin became almost unbearable, and he couldn't bring himself to care about anything else except satisfying his craving for you.

Within the next few minutes he had rid himself of his underwear, lifted your leg and slowly began to sink his aching, throbbing cock inside you, only a little bit at first. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he felt himself plunging into you over and over, his hips moving in a slow, rhythmic motion. His hand gripped the roundness of your ass, holding you in place as he thrust into you, his fingers digging slightly into your skin.

"Ah...fuck. Kitten, Im sorry..."

He bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan as he sunk himself deeper, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. The room filled with the sound of your bodies meeting, the creaking of the bed, and his ragged breaths. He could feel every inch of you, tight and warm around him. He wanted to savor this moment, to imprint it on his memory forever. He reached around, finding your clit with his fingers, rubbing in time with his thrusts. You moaned softly, still deeply asleep, arching your back to meet him.

"Mghn...S-sylus..."

He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He was worried that you had woken up, that you would discover him inside you, and that everything would be ruined. He lay there, holding his breath, as he frantically thought of excuses, of ways to explain what was happening.

But as the seconds passed in silence, and you didn’t move, he began to ease—just slightly. He glanced over, searching your face for any sign that you were awake, that you knew. But your eyes stayed shut, your expression calm, untouched. Still lost in sleep.

You looked so docile, so innocent and soft with your mouth agape, small snores escaping your lips. He hates that he feels a rush of arousal looking at you in such a vulnerable state, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

He wondered if you were thinking you were having a dream, if your subconscious was responding to his presence inside you. The thought sent a thrill through him, and his cock twitched in your inner walls. Maybe you wanted him too? Even in your dreams?

As he began to thrust again, this time with a bit more force, he could feel the pressure building up inside him. The ache in his groin was becoming almost unbearable, and he knew he was on the verge of cumming. He groaned, the sound choked out of him as he struggled to maintain control.

But as he looked down at you, still asleep and unaware of what was happening, he knew he had to pull out. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't risk finishing inside you. Surely you'd put two and two together when you woke up and he'd be caught.

With a strangled groan, he forced himself to pull out, his cock throbbing with the effort. He gripped the sides of your hip, holding himself up as he shot a hefty, sticky load of his cum all over your inner thighs. The sensation was intense, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him as he finally released the pent-up tension.

As he looked down at the mess he had made, he felt a pang of guilt and anxiety. What would you think if you woke up and found out what had happened? Would you be angry, would you be scared? He didn't know, and the uncertainty was eating away at him.

So he simply cleaned you up as best as he could, and when you awoke the next morning you were none the wiser. You did question the ache between your legs, but fortunately for him you simply chalked it up to pushing yourself too hard during the mission. Besides, your entire body hurt already. What was one more area?

He swore that would be the last time.

Except it wasn't.

You didn’t always spend the night, but when you did, it was usually because you were too tired to head home after a long day. Sylus would swing by and bring you back to Onychinus’s base without complaint. You’d shower, get comfortable, and eat whatever dinner he’d ordered the chef to make you—just like always.

Then the two of you would settle in. Maybe you’d watch a movie, maybe listen to one of his new records. It was an easy routine. Comfortable. Soothing.

Eventually, you’d get too tired to keep your eyes open, and drift off beside him on the couch.

Then he’d carry you to the bedroom—slow, careful, as if you might break in his arms. On the surface, it was about comfort. He wanted you to sleep well. To feel safe.

But underneath that was something more selfish. He wanted to test the limits. To see how close he could get, how much movement he could do before you would stir, how long his hands could linger on your skin.

Most nights, you didn’t even move. You stayed limp and warm in his arms, face tucked against his neck, breath slow and even. It should have calmed him.

Instead, it made things worse.

Guilt curled in his chest like smoke. You trusted him. Implicitly. You let yourself go completely in his care. And he hated how that trust made something coil low in his groin, thick with heat and desire to strip you down and plunge himself in your wet walls.

And that's exactly what he did. Night after night, he'd start carefully moving your underwear to the side, swiftly inserting the head of his hardened cock inside you, and fucking you until a creamy white ring of your juices formed around the base of his shaft. Touching your breasts, butt, and pussy in ways you'd never let him before. And just as he felt himself about to release, he'd quickly pull out, covering your soft skin in his cum. Sometimes it was your thighs, sometimes your back. He'd even gotten bold enough to do your face at one point.

To compensate for the guilt that gnawed at him every time he let himself fall into his dark cravings, Sylus had started buying you more gifts.

At first, it was subtle—a snack you liked, a book you’d mentioned in passing. But it escalated quickly. If you so much as glanced at something in a store window while the two of you were out, or paused a moment too long while scrolling on your phone, it would show up in your hands within days. Sometimes hours.

You noticed, of course. It was hard not to.

“Another one?” you’d ask, brow arched in amused suspicion as you unwrapped a new plushie, or a piece of jewelry that matched your favorite dress, or a gadget you’d casually mentioned needing just once.

When you asked him why he was suddenly giving you so much, he’d just shrug—casual, like it meant nothing.

“You've always been spoiled, why question it now?” he’d chuckle.

As if that explained everything.

And maybe it did. At least, enough to keep you from pressing further.

Because to him, each gift was a way to say I’m sorry I touched you too long, I’m sorry I wanted more than I should, I’m sorry I’m not being honest. I love you so much.

It was his way of trying to be good for you.

Even as the craving got harder to ignore.

Over and over he'd tell himself how wrong this was. How terrible he was for using you like this. All he could think about when he picked you up now was how long it would be before he got to cum on your pretty face again. How could he even think such thoughts? All that guilt would quickly subside as soon as you started yawning though.

Yes, even a simple yawn from you was enough to get him rock hard now.

He found himself unable to stop. Would you really blame him if you found out? You must clearly want it too...the way your body greedily sucked in his cock, squeezing around it like a warm, wet vice. It was as if your body was begging him not to pull out, to keep going, to keep giving you more. Every time he thrust into you, your muscles would contract, holding him in place, and then release, allowing him to slide back out, only to repeat the process again. It was a sensual, intoxicating rhythm, one that threatened to consume him whole.

And the soft little whines you made when he was stretching you out or when he pumped into you a little harder than he meant to drove him absolutely crazy...

He'd promptly cease his movements, gently shushing your little noises while he waited for you to calm.

"Im sorry, baby. I didn't mean it, stay asleep for me," he would coo, his voice a soft, gentle whisper, as he gazed down at your sleeping face. He would pause for a moment, his chest heaving with desire, as he struggled to control his own needs. But then, with a quiet sigh, he would resume his movements, his hips slowly rocking back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of you with a smooth, gentle rhythm.

As he moved, he would continue to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his words a soothing balm to your sleeping form. "Just need to see you covered in my cum one more time..." His voice was a gentle hum, a vibration that seemed to resonate deep within your body, as he continued to pump into you.

He did this for several weeks, reassuring you whenever you began to grow concerned at the continued ache between your legs. Of course, you'd trust him. Relax after. He'd feel terrible but he'd tell himself it was for your own good. You just felt too good. Too soft, so warm.

Tonight was no different. You both were watching a new movie in his home theater this time, when you promptly yawned. Immediately he felt his breath get shallow, and his pants get tighter.

“Tired, kitten?” Sylus asked, his voice lower than usual—rough around the edges, like he was holding something back. He reached for the remote and shut off the screen, the soft click echoing in the quiet space between you.

You nodded through a sleepy stretch, arms lifting lazily above your head before collapsing into your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, eyes already heavy. “We never finish these movies. I just…I don’t know. I’m always so tired now.”

There was a faint furrow in your brow as you said it—genuine regret, like falling asleep beside him was some kind of failure.

He leaned in without hesitation and kissed your forehead, slow and deliberate. His lips lingered there a moment longer than they needed to, soaking in the warmth of your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize for being sleepy,” he said softly, slipping one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “You’re welcome to come back and finish it any time.”

You didn’t respond.

He was rock hard now.

As he rose to his feet with you cradled in his arms, your body melted into him completely. Your head dropped to rest against his collarbone, lips parted in the beginnings of sleep. He felt the small puff of your breath against his neck—warm, steady.

Halfway down the hallway, he glanced down at you.

Out cold.

He smiled. There was something in your face when you slept—unguarded and soft. Your lashes fluttered faintly, cheek pressed against the curve of his chest like you belonged there.

“They must be working you to the bone,” he muttered to no one, voice barely audible.

Unfortunate for you.

But for him…

You felt incredibly wet and tighter tonight. He'd boldly set you on your back this time, not wanting to miss a single facial expression or noise. Even if it meant being more gentle than usual. He watched greedily as your breasts bounced up and down with his movements. He leaned down, hands on either side of your head, trying with strained effort to quiet his groans.

"How am I ever going to stop doing this to you? You feel so good," he hissed through his teeth, his voice a low, tortured whisper, as he struggled to keep his gentle rhythm. His cock was buried deep inside you, and with each thrust, he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. The sensation of his tip grazing your cervix was almost unbearable, threatening to overwhelm him.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched in a fierce effort to hold back, but it was no use. The feeling of being inside you, of being surrounded by your warm, wet flesh, was too intense, too addictive. He couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get enough of you. And as he looked down at your sleeping face, he knew that he was doomed, trapped in a cycle of desire and pleasure that he couldn't escape.

His hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, as he chased the sensation, as he sought to prolong the pleasure. And with each stroke, he felt himself getting closer, closer to the point of no return, closer to the moment when he would finally succumb to his desires and let go. "Hah...gonna cum...," he growled, his voice a low, animalistic snarl as he felt his orgasm building.

"Mmmm..."

As you began to squirm under him, your eyes peering open just a bit, but still not enough to be considered awake, he felt a surge of panic mixed with excitement. Were you waking up? He should stop, he knew he should, but he couldn't. He was too close, too caught up in the moment, too desperate to cum inside you.

He leaned in closer, his large body encasing yours, his warm breath whispering against your ear. "Shh...I'm almost there baby...don't wake up..." He pleaded, his voice a low, husky whisper, as he tried to calm you down, to keep you from waking up and discovering what was happening.

But you whine, sleepily grabbing onto his arms, your hands wrapping around his biceps like a vice. You clearly aren't aware enough to even realize what's happening, and he takes advantage of that, using it to his benefit. He continues to thrust into you, his hips moving faster, his cock pounding into your wet flesh with a relentless rhythm.

As he looks down at your face, he can see the faintest glimmer of awareness in your eyes, but it's not enough to stop him. He's too far gone, and he knows that he's going to cum inside you, no matter what. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Fuck..."

As he pushes as far as he can go, his hips stuttered, jerking forward with a mind of their own, as his cock pulsed, throbbing with the intense force of his release. As he came, he felt his cock unleash a torrent of cum, wave after wave of it flooding into your body, filling you to the brim.  A wave of relief crashed over him, drowning out the relentless hunger that had been gnawing at him all night.

As he looked down at you, Sylus noticed you were starting to squirm again, your body shifting slightly under the covers. You were clearly on the verge of waking up. Your brows twitched, your breathing changed, and your fingers gave a small, unconscious twitch.

Thinking quickly, he moved to wrap himself around you, encasing your body in his arms in a way that was both protective and possessive. His chest pressed against your back, one arm curling securely around your waist, hand resting just beneath your ribs.

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering open for a brief moment—glazed, unfocused—before slowly slipping shut again. He felt your body melt against his, the subtle tension in your shoulders and spine easing as sleep reclaimed you. Your breathing evened out. You relaxed fully in his grasp.

Relieved, Sylus allowed himself a quiet breath of his own, feeling the tension in his body begin to dissipate as he gazed down at you. He looked down to see the remnants of his cum slipping down the trails of your thighs, a warm, sticky liquid that glistened in the dim light. 

He would definitely have some explaining to do when you woke up...guess it was time to buy that cart full of items you'd been begging for...

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi, I love your writing, anyway I have a request: could you maybe write something like reader (teen daughter) is the passenger princess and like even though she has a drivers license and want to practise, maybe she drove once carefully but the turns at the max. speed of the speed limit were like race worthy (or not) he won’t let her drive or give up her seat as passenger princess, or just being overly overprotective, of course only if your comfortable and want to write this. I would like Max Verstappen/Charles Leclere/Oscar Piastri (but it’s your choice Ofc, write with whom your comfortable or want). No pressure to write it it’s just a thought.

Thanks xoxo

-🦋

Passenger Princess

It started with one drive. Just one.

The moment Yn got her driver's license, she thought it was her ticket to a new kind of freedom. She’d imagined herself behind the wheel, windows down, hair whipping in the wind like she was in a movie, her dad in the passenger seat for once. She hadn’t counted on the fact that her dad, Max, wasn’t just any dad. He was a Formula 1 driver. And that came with... complications.

"Dad, I'm sixteen. I have my license. Let me drive. Please?" Yn pouted from the doorway as Max jingled his car keys.

He didn’t even look up. "You also once took a roundabout at full throttle and made that poor French bulldog on the sidewalk almost faint."

Yn gasped, half offended, half laughing. "That was one time! And the dog was dramatic. He was wearing a sweater."

Max finally looked up, smile tugging at his lips. He walked over and gently took her backpack off her shoulder, swinging it over his own.

"You’ve driven once. Once. And you went full Monza into a residential left turn."

"It was slightly over the speed limit. I slowed down after."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Slightly? You took it like it was a qualifying lap."

She crossed her arms, defiant. "I was being careful. You didn’t even say anything during the drive."

"Because I was trying not to traumatize you with my fear," he said simply. "Now come on, princess. I have the blanket waiting for you."

And just like that, her resolve began to crack.

Max always had a blanket waiting in the passenger seat. A soft, ridiculously fluffy one she’d once jokingly said made her feel like royalty. Ever since, Max never let it leave the car. Passenger Princess treatment was serious business.

“I also got your Starbucks order,” he added, shaking the iced drink gently in front of her like a shiny toy. “With extra caramel. The way you like it. And a cheese danish.”

Yn blinked. “You’re bribing me.”

“I’m protecting you,” he replied smoothly. “Big difference.”

She gave him a look.

“Okay, and I’m bribing you. But lovingly.”

With a grumble, she let herself be ushered toward the car.

---

Once they were on the road, Max glanced over at her. She was curled into the seat, wrapped in the blanket, sipping her Starbucks, tapping away at her phone as she DJ’d the ride.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“About how you gaslighted me out of driving with a danish?”

“I prefer to call it strategic redirection,” he replied innocently.

She snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

---

A week later, she tried again.

“Dad, please. It’s a Sunday. No one’s on the road. I need practice or I’ll forget how to parallel park."

He looked at her, then at the keys in his hand.

“Did you even parallel park during the test?”

She hesitated. “Well… no. The instructor didn’t make me. But I YouTubed it after!”

Max chuckled. “That’s not reassuring.”

“Come on,” she pleaded. “Just from here to the café.”

He walked toward the car slowly, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You know what?”

Her face lit up. “Really?”

He swung open the passenger side door, pulled out the blanket and fluffed it dramatically.

“Not a chance.”

Yn groaned loudly, stomping toward the car. “You can’t do this forever!”

“I can try,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat and passing her the aux cable. “Wanna play the playlist you made yesterday? The sad girl autumn one?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re manipulating me again.”

“I call it… excellent parenting.”

---

The more she protested, the more elaborate Max became. The blanket evolved. One day it was heated. Another time, she got in and found a whole mini pillow setup, her favorite candy in the cupholder, and a note that said "Passenger Princess Boarding Pass: One-way trip to VVIP Comfort."

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” she said, holding up the card.

Max winked. “Only the best for my favorite girl.”

“I should be driving. You know that.”

He nodded. “I do. And when you stop taking corners like you're chasing pole, we’ll revisit it.”

“But—”

“Danish?” he offered.

She grabbed it, muttering. “This is emotional sabotage.”

“Yep.”

---

Eventually, she stopped arguing every time. Not because she gave up, but because she started to love it too.

Late-night drives when she was tired and didn’t want to think. Music blasting. Her feet on the dash (only when they weren’t near cops). Max telling stories from old race weekends, things he’d never told the media. Stories about how scared he’d been when she was born. How nothing—not even a starting grid at Spa—ever made his heart race like seeing her fall off her bike for the first time.

“I get nervous because I love you too much,” he’d said quietly once, after she’d fallen asleep mid-drive. She’d pretended to stay asleep, but her heart had never forgotten those words.

---

Then came the day she really did need to drive.

They were at a beach house in Spain, rented for a few days of privacy and family time. Max had pulled a muscle being dramatic on a jet ski (he swore it was the waves), and couldn’t sit up properly.

“Okay,” she said, standing over him with her arms crossed. “This is my chance.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he mumbled, wincing as he adjusted the ice pack on his side.

“Immensely.”

He sighed. “Fine. But slow. Safe. Cautious. I want you to brake like there’s a baby deer at every stop sign.”

Yn nodded seriously. “Deer braking. Got it.”

She drove slowly, carefully, every move cautious. Max still white-knuckled the door, but he didn’t say a word.

When they got home, she parked perfectly, turned off the car, and turned to him with a proud smile.

“Well?”

He smiled back, full of pride and relief.

“You’re getting there.”

---

But the next day, when he could sit up again, she found the blanket laid out in the passenger seat. A fresh Starbucks waiting.

“Really?” she asked, amused.

He shrugged. “Princess treatment. It’s forever. Driving was a fun little experiment. Let’s go back to our roots.”

She laughed and climbed in. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You’re my whole heart. Of course I’m impossible.”

And with that, they drove off—music up, windows down, father and daughter in perfect sync.

Passenger Princess: forever status confirmed.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

[athenalvss]

THE BAT'S WIFE ( Bruce wayne! )

summary: Some members of the league are still surprised by the way the Dark Knight's wife looks.

pairing: Bruce wayne x wife!reader

open request - Bruce masterlist

Given Bruce Wayne's past likes, everyone would know that in the future he would have a more than wonderful wife, not just anyone could occupy such an important place, and so it was.

You became the only woman capable of accompanying him in his life without losing your light, giving him the happiness he hadn't had in years. They had chosen each other time and again to walk side by side for the rest of their lives.

Bruce Wayne's wife was by no means an average woman. You had a beauty that was hard to describe in words, because it wasn't merely physical; you were magnetic. Whether you were in a room full of ambassadors or on a covert field operative, there was always something about you that made one's eyes linger. A lethal blend of grace, intelligence, and poise.

You didn't possess metahuman abilities, but that didn't diminish your influence. Your ability to read a situation, anticipate, intervene discreetly, and know when to stay back made you a natural ally, even for a team full of gods and soldiers.

Your relationship with Bruce had been solidified for a while, but he remained reserved and overprotective of you. The League had seen you on several occasions. At gala events, diplomatic meetings, or even at League IT meetings, contributing your work from a more administrative perspective, always alongside Bruce. Always elegant, calm, almost untouchable, but this was one of the few times you showed up at the Watchtower without your husband by your side.

For the first time, you stepped into the Watchtower without your husband or any of your children by your side.

You walked with your head held high, a folder under your arm, your heels clicking firmly on the metal floor. Each step you took had the same precision with which you used to handle high level negotiations at Wayne Enterprises or assist Bruce in matters that went beyond Gotham.

The League common room wasn't a solemn place at that moment. Barry, Hal, and Oliver were talking animatedly about who among them had completed the most missions in the last month. Diana sat reading, with that imperturbable stillness. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, and Clark, who was always the first to greet you, was also nowhere to be seen.

The conversation was interrupted as soon as you walked through the door.

Hal was the first to notice. His laughter died in midair, frozen mid air by his astonishment at finding you there. Completely flawless. Your bearing was subtle yet striking, with that gaze of yours that, though gentle and even innocent at first glance, carried with it a quiet confidence that didn't need to be imposed. It was natural. Inevitable.

Oliver looked down from his cup as if he'd sensed a change in the pressure in the air. Your presence alone disrupted the rhythm, but he was observant, and he simply studied the reactions of the others.

Barry turned his head with his trademark reflex and froze completely. He blinked once, swallowed, and put down the donut he was holding halfway.

Diana, on the other hand, wasn't startled. She barely raised her eyes from the book she was reading and smiled a friendly smile as she greeted you. She had always had a lot of respect for you; you were a powerful figure, a woman accustomed to walking among men who thought themselves superior and letting them know, without a word, that they weren't.

You had the grace of someone younger, with a restrained energy that contrasted with the severity of the man you shared your life with. Not because of a lack of maturity, but because of that innate brilliance you possessed; and when everyone had the chance to see you together, they understood why the bat cared so much for you.

“Wow…” Hal whispered, not realizing he had said it out loud.

You were dressed in a fitted black jacket, a white silk blouse that elegantly caressed your figure, and high boots that enhanced the natural firmness of your gait. Your hair was pulled back with perfect carelessness. A soft shine on your lips, and that barely perceptible perfume that, unintentionally, lingered.

Barry was the first to find his voice. "Is everything okay?" he asked awkwardly, as if unsure why he was talking. "I mean, uh, can I help you with something?"

You stopped a few steps away from them, and with the folder under your arm, you smiled at them politely.

"I'm looking for J'onn. I brought the reports he asked me for on the satellite infrastructure," you reply casually, as if you didn't notice the weight of their gaze on you. As if you didn't know you'd left them speechless.

"he's in hallway three, communications room," Hal said quickly, rising from his seat. "I can walk you there, if you like."

"Thank you," you said politely, without altering your tone. "But it's not necessary. I already know how to get there. I just wanted to stop by and say hello first." Before you left, you gave them a friendly, naturally charming smile.

Hal followed you with his eyes when you turned around, with that slow, elegant gesture that came naturally to you, And Barry…

Barry had run out of air.

Oliver watched the scene with an amused eyebrow raised. He didn't say anything, but the smile that spread across his lips spoke volumes.

The footsteps of your boots faded into the distance, but the effect of your presence still lingered like a thick perfume, impossible to ignore. For a moment, no one in the common room spoke. It was as if everyone was digesting what had just happened… and no one knew how.

Hal was the first to break the silence. "My God," he exhaled, sinking back into his seat. "How does Bruce manage to concentrate on anything with that woman in the same room?"

Oliver gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "Who tells you he does? Maybe he can't concentrate at all, and all these years we've had him on a pedestal of self control just because we didn't see it when she was around."

Barry, still somewhat dazed, kept looking down the hallway you'd left, as if he expected to see you reappear at any moment.

"I say this with all due respect" Hal added, pointing down the hall as if he could still see you, "if she weren't married to him, I'd make my move in a heartbeat."

The comment hung in the air. No one responded immediately. Oliver snorted through his teeth, as if unwilling to interfere, and Barry barely looked away, uncomfortable but not contradicting him. For a moment, all that could be heard was the distant hum of the ventilation system… until the silence became too heavy. As if something had suddenly occupied it.

No one heard him coming, it was almost impossible to do so.

No one heard him coming, it was almost impossible to do so.

"Who would you make your move with, Hal?"

The voice was deep, raspy, and flat. But each word cut like a freshly sharpened blade.

Batman.

They all turned at once. Bruce was standing a few feet away from them, his hands clasped in front of his chest, his face completely expressionless. He had arrived as silently as a thought.

Hal swallowed. “Bruce… I…”

"What are you talking about? "

The question fell like a rock in the center of a tense surface. Without raising his voice, without changing his expression. Just a simple question.

And at that moment the men at the table were able to breathe an internal sigh of relief. Batman wasn't going to kill them; he hadn't heard anything. And when they were about to answer to save their own life.

Diana got there first, looking up from the book she'd been holding the whole time. She gently closed the cover, raised an eyebrow with absolute calm, and fixed her eyes on the millionaire. "They're talking about how hot your wife is"

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Platonic Yandere Batfamily x

Child Girlscout Reader!!

'In world where you can be anything be kind......'

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 This is part 4!!

'Your beautiful, where did you get your looks from?'

'Thank you! I look just like my mommy.....'

Your cute smile and round eyes had Bruce matching your reaction.

What you said was very true though you did look exactly like your mother.

Well, a smaller version atleast.

You tilt your head up to look at him still holding the purring cat in your arms peacefully.

'Who do you look like?' You ask.

It was a simple ,innocent, question really. One that you probably didn't put much thought in to ask.

Truthfully, it hurt bruce more then you'd expect. He knew that if you had known it would've hurt him you wouldn't have asked.

So ,obviously, doesn't blame you.

Instead he keeps composer and replies with a soft smile.

'I suppose I get my looks from my father.'

Truthfully he didn't really know. After his parents death he tried forgetting what they looked like. It was easier that way.

But he'd have nightmares and their memories never did fade their faces just kind of blurred.

He stopped staring at their pictures and painting in the manor along time ago. He didn't even know if Alfred had ever taken them down. Or if their still hung up in their old room.

'My mama says I have my daddy's smile!'

Your voice drags bruce out of his tournamented thoughts and he's quick to compose himself.

He had seen you smile alot. It was almost like you smiled more then you didn't. But he never really thought you had gotten it from your father. Although your smile doesn't really replicate your mother's.

'Is that so?' Bruce replies with an almost forced smile. Bruce loved the idea of you looking like your mother.

He loved the image that he could paint in his head with it. You could pass as his daughter because you had more traits of your mother then you did of your biological dad.

So bruce could always lie and say you were biologically his. That lie didn't really make much sense to him anyway. Because to him you were already his.

You nod softly looking down at the black cat in your small arms.

Glancing back up Dick's quick to grab your attention.

'There's someone we'd like you to meet..." He says grasping your shoulders gently and leading you to the astonishing living room.

You however don't catch jason nudging bruce towards your mother as she looks out a window admiring the sky.

'Don't mess this one up.' Jason mutters in his ear before following you and Dick to the living room.

Sat on the unnecessary big couch is Cassandra Cain.

Softly letting the cat down on the floor you tug on dicks shirt motioning for him to come closer.

Dick almost smiles at your adorable antics as he hears your next words you whisper in his ears. 'Who is she?'

'Our sister.' Dick declares and jason leans against the wall watching the whole interaction from a distance.

'Oh....' Is all you mutter and for a moment the two oldest Wayne's think your disappointed in that fact until you speak agian.

'She looks really cool.'

'She is.' Tim states like it's a known fact. Dicks flinches at his brother unannounced presence having not heard him step into the room.

'Why don't you go speak to her?' Tim nudges you forward but your quick to run behind them instead.

Peaking your head out like a kitten that doesn't know if she should trust a human.

Cass giggles at your innocent behavior. The boys however look quite bewildered at the thought of you being scared of the only girl in the family.

You tilt your head from behind them watching as Cass giggles at your actions. Maybe she wasn't so scary....?

This time you actually move towards her without being nudged and she offers a soft smile silently begging you to come closer.

She pats the cushion beside her and you hesitatently take a seat.

Cass sends the boys a quick glance silently telling them to leave so she could have some time with you.

Their quick to do as she wishes despite their longing to stay.

'Your very pretty....' You mumble ,eyes cast down, small hands playing with the fabric of the lavish couch.

Cass doesn't speak but hums in delight at your kind words.

The boys had told her you were as sweet as candy ,but she hadn't believed anything but bitterness was reserved in gotham.

Until now.

She pondered for a moment not knowing what to say or do but your timid voice breaks the silence.

'You seem so..... cool.'

Cool? Is that what you thought of her? Is that why you had hesitated to meet her? Because you believed she was cool?

The young vigilantly had never been described as 'cool'. Cold? Yes. Quiet? Definitely.

But cool? Never.

It was a term that was often us as for her brothers not her. Yet, just by the sight of her you had deemed her....cool.

Maybe you were sweet. Like candy that'd rot your teeth ,but she'd gladly let her teeth rot just to have you. And that was made very clear to her in just these small minutes with you.

She didn't utter a word to you and somehow you didn't need her to.

You opened up to her on your own pace ,and she found it quite memorizing how quickly you considered her a friend.

Your smaller hands played with her larger calloused ones like you would with a toy.

But not harsh. No, you were soft. Gentle, as your fingers traced the lines in her palms like she was something to cherished.

'Can I be your friend?' Your quite voice sounds more like a prayer then a question.

It takes Cass atleast three awkward seconds before she's swiftly shaking her head yes. She'd never been asked to be a friend.

Truthfully, she never really cared for it either. But right now she does.

You smile, your naive eyes squinting at the ends. You giggle joyfully as if she'd just handed you a bag of candy.

'I'll be the best friend! I pinky promise!' You bable happily like a person who just won the lottery.

Cass's pinky wraps around your extended one ,carefully sealing the deal. It's safe to say she sees why everyone cherish's your happiness like a gem.

Because in a city full of monster's it seemed you truly were the only angel left.

And she'd gladly keep you safe even if you can't see it ,yet.

While you were being coddled and adored by your new found best friend your mother simply looked out the big windows of the manor.

Bruce's mind raced with ideas of how to approach her without seeming like a creep.

After all she did accuse him of trying to kidnap her daughter and she isn't half wrong.

He couldn't mess this up. He wouldn't ,but your mother was so diffrent then the women he's been with.

She wasn't spoiled or tainted. She wasn't a thief or a killer. She was a nurse.

A simple women with so much heart and love. But it seemed like that was only reserved for you.

That was it! He'd reach her through you!

'She seems happy...' Bruce says and he watches as she slightly flinches at his voice but she hides it well.

Your mother turns looking at you as you play and talk with Cass on the couch. Her eyes softening at the sight.

She hums her voice low and calm. Like the sight of you calmed her. It did.

'She's always happy," You mother comments taking a sip from her cup that's filled with some fancy juice.

'But she does look happier.' She continues calm her heart filled with a feeling of bliss at the view of you so happy.

Bruce smiles a rare sight even for his kids. He nods enjoying the sight of you being so compatible with his kids.

'She loves everyone.' Your mom mumbles her eyes still trained on you having an absolute wonderful time with Cassandra.

'Did she get that from you?' Bruce asks finally coming up with a decent question to strike a conversation.

Your mother smiles and ,agian, its because of the thought of you. She shakes her head her mind replaying the memories of you welcoming any stranger like it was your family.

'No, she inherited that from her father....'

'I see....' Bruce nods hands tight at the thought of you inheriting something that from another man.

'He used to be so.....diffrent back then.' Your mother says now turning her attention back on Bruce.

It was pretty clear what she meant by that but Bruce carries on not wanting the conversation to end.

'Diffrent how?' He voices softly, but your mother still feels distressed at the question.

She still answer's though.

'Happy, like her....'

She doesn't have to gesture to you for Bruce to know who she's talking about.

'What changed?' Bruce ask generally wanting to know. He'd first came to her to get to know you.

Yet, the more he talks with her and each picture she paints with her words ,Bruce finds himself digging bigger whole in his heart.

Big enough to make space for her in it.

'I ask myself that all the time..... One day he just...changed. changed into a man I had to let go.'

Her voice is quiet but it's stable ,something that she came to terms with long ago.

Bruce hums realizing that though she may always love the man she once knew that is not the man he is now.

And maybe he can be that man for her?

She smiles one that looks forced ,almost. Like it's something that's funny but it's not.

'In all of Gotham there's only one person that hopes he wakes up.'

'You?'

'No, I think he hurts more people alive then he would dead,' she pauses then points to you.

'He's that little girls world... She looks at him like he hung the stars.' She sighs almost defeated look I her gaze.

Bruce doesn't like the sound of that at all.

Bruce hums not really having the words to put his thoughts in the air nicely.

'She seems to love you alot too.' He finally says trying to soften the mood.

'She does.... But girls do tend to love their fathers more sometimes....even if their dads are the devil.' Your mother turns looking out the window agian.

But Bruce doesn't miss how she quickly wipes her eyes as a tear escapes. How awful is this man to make her cry?

'I stayed with him four more years before I finally left him.' She admits like something that she's ashamed about.

'What was the final straw?' Bruce doesn't even know if it's his place to ask but his mouth speaks before his mind has time to stop itself.

'When he got to her.' She sighs finally looking to where you are agian. It was pretty clear she prioritized your wellbeing over hers even if she didn't voice it.

It was known.

It strikes Bruce deep not knowing what she meant when it she said he gotten to you.

He had no idea what that man could have done to hurt you but even if he just poked you with his fingers Bruce was livid.

'You must love her alot.' He says trying to diminish his anger and focus on the hurt women infront of him.

'I love her more than anything.' She clarifies like she doesnt want Bruce to mistake it ,but he doubts anyone could.

'She's everything to me.'

'Your a good mother.' He says softly but his words are true. Anyone with two eyes can see just how good of a mother you are.

'She's a good kid. With her...it's easy.' She shrugs.

That may be true but even Bruce knows having a good kid doesn't just automatically make you a good mom like she is.

'You don't give yourself enough credit.' Bruce says and he doesn't miss how she doesn't meet his eyes anymore trying to hide her tears like their scars.

'There's still some things I'm not prepared for.' She says her eyes still on the dark clouds that fills the sky.

'Well a parent can never be prepared for everything-' he wants to add that he's batman and he's still not prepared for half the thing his kid's do but he doesn't.

Because he knows he can't. Even if he wishes he could.

Now if there was one person who'd love your bubbly personality more then Dick it would be Duke.

Because who likes living in a house full of angsty vilganty's? Not many and especially not the happy boy named Duke Thomas!

Cass had taken her eyes off of you for no longer then five seconds before looking back to where you were once seated to see that you were gone?!

Standing up quickly she hastily begins to look around for you!

From the living room to dining room to even the bathrooms that you'd have to walk all the way to the other side of the manor to get to!

She eventually had to get the others to help. Even though she truly didn't want to....

'What do you mean you lost her!' Dick all but shouts before Tim tries to calm him down.

'Don't yell! If her mom thinks we lost her she'll never trust us agian!'

'Do you idiots hear that or am I hallucinating?' Damian asks pointing to the ceiling. Who's room was above the living room? Oh right dukes....

And what was that sound? Blasting music and giggles? Yeah they know exactly where you are.....

Opening the young heros door they see you happily sitting on Dukes lap giggling as he describes what the lyrics of the sounds mean.

Leaving out some parts....to keep your innocent intact of course!

After watching enough and hearing your giggles through the door they finally decode to open it.

Duke immediately turns off the loud music his face blank almost confused to why they look so worried.

'Whats up?'

'Whats up? Whats up! We've been looking for her for five minutes only to find out your having a party.' Dick voices voice cracking from how shocked he is.

'Not to mention your teaching her demonic music ,Thomas.' Damian adds crossing his arms and shaking his head in disapproval.

'Yeah you'd know something about devil music huh ,demon?' Jason quips with a chuckle just to get under the small boys skin.

'First off don't fight infront of her,' Duke says pointing at damian and jason already sensing a fight about to start.

'Second, it's called being cultured. Gotta teach 'em young.' Duke shrug glancing back at your pouting face now unhappy that the music stopped.

'She likes it.' Duke comments smiling at you which brings your smile back.

'I do!' You smile innocently.

'She doesn't even know what the lyrics mean.' Tim utters gesturing at you.

'That's why I'm teaching her.' Duke answers like it's the most common thing in the universe.

Cass quickly goes over to grab your hand sighing as she leads you back to where she had you before one of her brothers ruined her peaceful moments.

'Hey you can't just take her all the time we want to play with her too!' Tim whines dramatically pouting.

Cass complete ignores his request as she continues leading you down the stairs cases.

'Where is my baby?'

'Huh?'

Your mother's eyes quickly dart around the spacious living room and kitchen not being able to see you.

'My baby, where is she?!' She panics not seeing you anywhere?

Bruce could tell the women was definitely about to have a heart attack just from you not being in her sight.

What bruce didn't notice was your mother already thinking of ways to kill this man if she didn't find you within five minutes.

'She's probably with my kids...she's fine.'

'Your kids? The ones that are all practically grown men?!' She says already moving to yell in the man's face.

She couldn't believe how stupid she was! How could she let her baby be alone with strangers!

You being the absolutely ridiculously cute Saint you are saw your mother's distresses state ,and new she was looking for you as you walked down the stairs case.

'I'm here mama! I'm here!' You shout letting go of Cassandra's hand to sprint full speed towards your worried mother.

'Oh my baby...I thought I lost you.' She sighs finally feeling like she can breathe agian as she cups your soft cheeks.

'Nuh uh ,mama, I'm right here!' You giggle as she smiles down at you.

Bruce on the other hand finally realizes that he was about to get murdered by your mother if Cass hadn't brought you back downstairs.

Alfred smiles seeing your mother being so affectionate with you remembering all the times Martha had been like that with Bruce in the past.

It had been along time since a mother's love filled the manors air and Alfred was happy to see how it was finally coming back.

'Dinners ready.' Alfred announces calmly as he gestures to the dining room.

Your mother's sighs at your pouting face because you already know what she's about to say.

'Don't give me that look...we've stayed long enough.'

'Your leaving?' Damian speaks up interrupting your mother's conversation with you.

'It's late we should really get going...' Your mother defends putting a hand on your shoulder ready to lead you out the big manor.

'Wed really like it if you stayed....please?' Dick protest and it was kinda hard to say no to a grown man that was pouting desperately.

Not to mention the other wayne children faces matched their older brother's.

Your mother sighs looking back at you an dshe knows she's lost when she hears your quiet plea.

'Please, mama?'

'Fine...we leave after dinner not a second later.'

All smiles in the manor reach their eyes as they hear her words.

'Well then let's go eat.' The old butler states as you walk over to him grabbing his hand with a smile as he leads you to the beautiful dining room..

Your mother sighs knowing she gave into your cuteness once agian.

'What am I gonna do with you..?' She mutters, watching as you happily skip to the dining room with Alfred, as he matches your skips with long strides.

She rubbed her face, her mind repeatedly saying 'it's just a simple dinner. Get in get out.'

The table was unusually quiet and your mother could tell straight away that this wasn't exactly normal for them as they all fiddled with their hands or their fingers.

Despite their best attempts at seeming normal all eyes did end up falling on you.

You happily spoke and ate not noticing the soft eyes all staring at you lovingly. Your mother did though ,and she was already mentally burying bodies.

You spoke softly your eyes on damian as he told you various facts about animals you didn't know.

And you threw in your two cents when you thought of something you had learned from Wild Krats.

Alfred saw your mother's focused eyes noticing she had caught on to everyone's adoring gaze and she didn't seem to happy about it.

'So you're a nurse correct?' Alfred calm spoken words break everyone put of their deep gaze including you.

'Yep my mommies the best nurse!'

Your mother smiles softly appreciating your kind-hearted words knowing you meant them.

'Yes, I am a nurse.' Your mother clarifies nodding at Alfred.

Alfred smiles at both your mother's profession and your mother-daughter relationship.

'Do you enjoy it?' Jason's ruff voice ask his fork digging into his food as he speaks.

Everyone wanted to ask that was clear by how they all perked up at the question.

The truth was they all new a thing or two about patching themselves up but nothing compared to what a nurse would know.

And they knew nurse helped people. They did too but sometimes they hurt more people then they helped sometimes. A nurse didn't.

A nurse just helped.

You mother takes a moment to think before answering the question.

'I love my job it... it does good.' She shrugs taking a sip of her drink before continuing.

'But it takes alot of time... takes me away from things that I love.' Your mother sighs setting down her cup.

Alfred smiles a rare sight that the Wayne's hardly ever see other then special occasions.

'Being a nurse or really anything in medical attention is a special profession.'

Your mother nods at Alfred kind words enjoying them greatly and appreciating them.

Though your mother barely knew the old man that kept these walls clean. She understood why you talked so highly of him.

The calm silence of dinner was abruptly interrupting by a ringing sound ,but it wasn't a phone.

No, it was your small pinky hello kitty watch that your mother paid about three dollars for.

It was your most prized possession.

As the small watch rang all eyes were on you as you quickly turned it off and ran to your mother's chair in a hurry.

'Mama your phone! Your phone!' You all but scream in a haste as your mother pulls out her phone almost embarrassed at how persistent you are to get her phone.

'Thanks mama!'

Your little legs run as fast as you can to the living room desperately wanting space.

All eyes now turn to your mother silently asking why you had wanted her phone so desperately.

Your mother sighs giving an awkward smile before answering everyone's silent question.

'Her dad calls her every day at this time. That's why she has an alarm set on her phone.'

Soft 'ohs' and hums of understanding reach her ears.

The table goes quiet almost like everyone's in silent agreement to try and hear what your talking about through the walls.

After about three minutes of concentrated silence your mother's voice breaks the silence.

'So I hear your a cop?' She ask her gaze pointed at dick.

He nods an almost shy smile on his face.

'Definitely an honorable profession.' She says her smile warm and dock can't help but smile too.

'What about you?' Your mother's hands tap the table softly but her gaze is on Jason now.

He hated that question. Because he didn't really have a way to respond to it. What was he supposed to say? He lived off of criminals money? No, that wouldn't do.

So he shrugs 'still trying to figure that out.'

Your mother hums soft smile never leaving her lips as she speaks and jason likes that. She isn't judging or looking at him like he's doing something wrong. She looks....understanding.

'You'll figure it out...'

And with how soft her words seemed they sounded...so true.

Maybe he could figure it.

'Ah, and I hear your quiet the genius.' She continues her arms on the table nothing but kind hearted tone in her voice as she looks at Tim.

Now Tim didn't know if you told her that or if she googled him but either way he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to be praised.

'I wouldn't say that I'm a genius...' He shrug trying not to be to cocky.

'I doubt anyone would.' Damian adds with a soft smirk. And while Tim looks annoyed and embarrassed Dick and Jason can't help but snicker..

Bruce however gives them a stern glare which doesn't help much but looking at your. Mother she doesn't look to happy about it so they immediately stop.

Your mother hums her voice carefully and light as she speaks to the youngest wayne.

'You must be Damian.'

'I am.' His voice comes out quiet almost shaky as if her slight glare has him shaken. Now that makes his older brother's want to laugh even more.

'My daughter described you as if you were an angel.' Her voice is tender but there's something behind it.

Like she's disappointed with what she's seeing and that makes Damian feel disappointed in himself.

His heads hung low as she speaks agian. But that disappointment is gone when your mother says her next words.

'You certainly look it. Your absolutely adorable. You must've gotten your looks from your mother.'

She jokes a soft laugh leaves her lips and the other join obviously not goings to miss the chance to diss Bruce.

Bruce laughs himself finding your mother's confidence admirable.

Your mother complements Dukes brightness and Cass for her confidently fiece demeanor.

Slowly the small talk becomes less forced and more familiar.

Like this is how it's supposed to be.

Bruce relivishes in the normalcy and so do the children all while your mother keeps a smile on everyone face.

The once big empty table now feels smaller not with space but with comfort. Like these no gaps missing. Well there is one but you shortly make your way back to the table.

You almost unnoticed by how loud everyone is talking. Cass's the first to see you, your eyes cast down not meeting her gaze. She frowns but decides not to say anything.

You don't sit back on your seat and you don't say anything either.

You just stand there and everyone allows you to thinking maybe you just want to stand.

That is till your mother speaks up noticing how oddly quiet your being.

"You okay, baby?"

You sniffle your eyes still to the ground. Your mother's smile drops and a frown quickly replaces it.

Then everyone sees it. A tear drop. One then two. Then they don't stop.

Your mother's quick to try and comfort you opening her arms to allow you to come to her. But you don't.

No, to her surprise you run right past her.

Her head whips so fast she could've gotten whiplash. Just to see you run straight into Bruce's arms.

Bruce? Bruce!

Everyone's surprised gut Bruce quickly composes himself and sets you in his lap as you cry your little heart out on his chest.

He looks at your mother clearly not knowing what to do. But your mother offers no help. Just as confused as he is but for a totally different reason obviously.

Why would you run to him instead of her?

He awkwardly pats your back and your mother soft voice speaks up.

"What's happened baby...?"

"He doesn't love me mama....."

Your voice is so small and so broken. It hurts everyone how your sobs continue and grow louder.

Your mother sighs your sad small voice breaking her heart. She leans back in her seat.

Everyone's jaw clenched how dare someone break your heart? And this young? Oh, they were gonna pay.

Your mother knows your dad was probably just drunk he probably didn't even mean to call, like he should've.

He probably said something he didn't mean but that doesn't mean anything to your broken heart right now.

Your sad sobs echos throughout the manor cruelly. A reminder of how distressed you truly are.

And despite the other kids efforts; twenty minutes later they still can't bring your glowing smile back.

You cling to bruce like a lifeline, your cries muffled by his expensive shirt that he doesn't mind you ruining with your tears ,and snotty sniffles.

Eventually the kids do give up and just watch as your cries slowly fade. Some watch with curiosity with why you picked Bruce others with jealousy.

Your mother on the other hand watches with neither. She knows exactly why you ran to Bruce and no one else. She understands why you ran to Bruce instead of her.

You wanted something that neither her or the wayne children could give you.

A father's comfort.

Sigh, maybe this would be a bit more difficult then just a simple ,innocent, dinner.

With the dreadful amount of crying you did one would've thought you would've wanted to go home.

But not you!

Somehow you had gotten your mother to stay for a movie. In the manors luxurious house movie theater.

Claiming it would be rude to leave damian on his birthday without watching a movie like you two always did on eachothers birthday.

Normally she would've said no. But she couldn't not when you had just finished crying and she knew that this was your way of trying to forget your father's hurtful words.

So with a sigh she said yes.

Your mother left the movie theater claiming she needed something to drink. Bruce took this opportunity to make the final move everyone was planing.

Securing a date.

What Bruce obviously doesn't know is that you don't try and make moves on a women who's little girl heart just broke.

'What. Did. You. Just. Say.'

Your mother's voice is colder then any blade he's ever been stabbed with and the menacing batman flinches.

He swallows then continues.

'I-I was just wondering if perhaps if you wanted to we could-'

SMACK!

Well, that didn't go to exactly to plan.

And that's pretty cleat with how Bruce's cheek is reddening from the impact of your mother hand.

You mother's glare looks meaner then Clark's when he's angry. Now Bruce knows he really messed up.

But....is it wrong to say he...might enjoy it?

That thought quickly disappears faster then it came with how fast your mother begins cussing him out.

'How fucking dare you! My baby looks up to you! And you just want to get in my fucking pants?!' She takes a pause a short and dramatic cruel pause before she continues.

Hands on her hips and her right palm slightly red from how hard she hit Bruce's face ,but by the look on her face she clearly doesn't regret it.

'I'm not one of your whores you can get a quick fuck out of. And my baby ain't no orphan who needs saving.'

She turns around like the wind itself better fear her fury.

'Fuck you! And your mother-fucking bitch mentality!'

She thinks he got to you just to get to her? Well that's not how it is at all! But Bruce can't say that he wants her just to get you or that'll definitely sound wrong.

So he stands there and watches with a red cheek as your mother pulls you out the manor leaving you no time to whine and complain before your out the door.

The rain is oaking your clothes but you still make a point to wave to everyone watching you through the window.

Your mother's old car drives off like she Dominic Toreto himself and when the cat finally come out their view Jason says the words everyone's been dying to ask.

'What the fuck did you do?'

Bruce sighs hands in his hips copying your mother earlier stance ,but instead of anger fueling his heart it's desire and love.

'Alfred get me the best lawyers in gotham.'

Alfred sighs a knowing look of defeated acceptance in his gaze.

'The adoption one or matrimonial one?'

Obviously Bruce's plan was going to need a bit more.....force.

'Both.'

Thanks for reading!!

Likes ,comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

Note: I do not encourage violence readers mother is just very protective of her baby.

Second note: I don't know why I picked that song in particular it just reminded me of reader and her dad relationship.

Taglist: @rovcarmen @yua-who @nervousalpacalady @jsprien213 @blue-flower-lady @ghost-0rch1d @vanilliona @vanessa-boo @cat-lover-over-9000 @itsmossy @nightstarblue @imhere2dosomething @hearts4mica @minny-ka @alishii @tsxukikami @its-simply-just-krys @maskedvoyance @theworldscalamity @kazuuhali @eyeless-kun @bbmgirll @jjoppees @justafank @ive-made-so-many-mistakes @iamapotatoe @asillysimp @whiteoakoak @leogf @sanchann @nisarelle @ratterpatter @venomsvl @sh4rk-k1d @reeyy0-2 @kneelforloki @sirlovel @moon0goddess @cruzerforce4256 @ironsaladwitch @gaychaoticraccoon @dubidumzy @ssak-i

[marsdql]

Omg I loved the Heeseung boner fic 😭😭😭 can you pls write one where he actually cvms in his pants bc of his innocent bestie like she just wants to be close to him and he can’t control himself AT ALL

Heheheh anon anon hehehehehe smirk smirk idk if I should continue this tho lmk cuz it’s kinda short and not very detailed

You didn’t think twice when you plopped down next to Heeseung on his bed, blanket in tow and eyes still sleepy. Movie night turned into half-whispered conversations and now this—your head on his shoulder, legs tucked under you, fingers absentmindedly tracing the seams of his hoodie.

Heeseung swallowed hard.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. Not really. You were just… close. Sweet. Warm. So damn innocent it was driving him crazy.

“Your hoodie smells nice,” you mumbled, nose brushing the collar near his throat.

His breath hitched.

“Yeah?” he said, voice lower than usual. “It’s yours if you want it.”

You smiled up at him. “Really? You’d give it to me?”

He nodded, jaw clenched. “You can have anything, baby.”

You blinked, not catching the weight behind his words or the name he’s been constantly using on you.

Then you moved, curled closer to him, hand slipping under the blanket to wrap around his waist. Your cheek rested over his chest now, soft breaths brushing through the fabric. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Heeseung felt his body react instantly.

Shit.

His hand twitched on his knee, fighting the urge to touch. To grab. To pull you right into his lap and grind out the need that had been gnawing at him all night.

You let out a little hum, nestling closer. “You always make me feel safe.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t deserve that. Not with the way his cock was pressing up against his boxers, hot and needy, already leaking. From just this. Just you.

“Baby,” he whispered, tight and breathless.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t move.”

You stilled. “Why?”

He let out a broken chuckle, half a moan, half regret. “Because if you keep doing that, I’m gonna—”

But then you shifted again, just slightly, your leg brushing over his. it was too much. He gasped — low, strangled, as a sharp wave of pleasure crashed through him. His hips jerked before he could stop them, and then—

“Oh—shit—” Heeseung groaned, hand flying to his thigh as his release hit, sudden and overwhelming.

You froze. “Hee?”

He dropped his forehead to your shoulder, panting. Embarrassed. Shaken.

“Don’t look,” he mumbled, voice thick and hoarse. “Just… stay here a second. Please.”

“…Did you just—?”

He nodded against you, not daring to meet your eyes.

You blinked, stunned. “From cuddling?”

He let out a soft, wrecked laugh, unable to even answer you.

[crazziforazzi]

Red Jersey

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

One shot

Warning: MDNI, Possessive!P, Mild dom/sub dynamics

A/N: This started out as a cute little post-game one-shot I drafted after the match… then I went to work, came back, and rewrote it into whatever this is now. I will now be closing my laptop and pretending this never happened, okay? We don’t talk about it.

But in my defense, I did promise to deliver something if P dropped 20. Next time I’m betting on 25+

Word Count: 4k words

Azzi Fudd was in big fucking trouble.

Not the catastrophic, relationship-on-the-line kind of trouble. More the you knew what you were doing and now you’re dealing with the consequences kind. The kind of trouble where your girlfriend doesn’t raise her voice, doesn’t throw a fit, she just misses three open layups in the first half of a game she should be dominating and avoids eye contact the whole time.

That kind of trouble stung, because it meant Paige was actually upset. And Azzi couldn’t even say she hadn’t earned it.

It had started with the post. Their hard launch, yesterday. Paige had known it was coming, they’d even laughed about the case together when it arrived in the mail. She’d said Azzi could post it whenever she felt ready. Azzi had felt ready. Paige, apparently, had felt… too busy to react.

Sure, they had agreed Azzi would be the one to go public first, to slowly place the signs for their fans. But she hadn’t expected complete silence from her girlfriend. No like, no repost, not even their pink heart emoji. Just…nothing.

And that silence? It annoyed the hell out of her.

And she knew it was stupid. She knew Paige was barely online these days. She knew that one like didn’t matter when her girlfriend made sure she woke up to a good morning text every single day, and treated her like a princess whenever they were together. But still, Azzi liked to be claimed. In every way possible.

So yeah, maybe Azzi was feeling a little petty when she showed up to the Wings-Mystics game today. 

Her hair was still perfect from the event she’d been at the day before. Her natural makeup hit just right. She even pulled on the jeans Paige loved and decided on a cropped white UConn shirt that left just enough abs and her piercing peeking out. She looked good. Hot, even. First official WAG game and she was showing up for it.

But when she was greeted by Georgia Amoore instead of her own girlfriend first, with a cheeky grin and a "You want this?" Azzi caught the jersey, smiled, and pulled it on right over her tank top without missing a beat.

Okay, maybe she paused for a second. But only because she knew Paige would be annoyed. Her girlfriend was way too possessive for this kind of shit.

Which made her do it anyway.

She’d barely been sitting for a few minutes, casually chatting with the girl next to her, when she saw them. Or more accurately, felt it first. The stare.

When she looked up, Paige and Arike were jogging toward the sideline for warmups. Paige wasn’t even trying to hide the glare. Azzi met her eyes across the court and raised her brows, all faux innocence, like what? Someone else gave it to me.

She didn’t expect Paige to actually come over to her side of the court. But she did.

With Arike flanking her, both of them bouncing the balls casually as they strolled toward Azzi’s section like they had no other place to be. Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just gave her that look. The one that said 

You think you are funny, huh?

"Interesting jersey choice," Arike said with a sly grin, clearly enjoying the drama way too much.

"Georgia said she didn’t want it getting wrinkled on the bench," Azzi shot back smoothly. "I’m just doing her a favor."

"Mhm," Paige murmured, eyes flicking up and down slowly. "Bet she appreciated that."

Azzi tilted her head, playful. "Bet you noticed."

That earned her a look. Paige didn’t respond though,—just turned back to warm up again with Arike, glancing over at Azzi every once in a while before shaking her head. Each time, Azzi just smiled back sweetly, all charm and no remorse.

Now it was halftime, and Azzi sat very still in her seat, Georgia’s red jersey still on, and maybe regretting everything, just a little.

Paige had gone 1-for-6 in the second quarter alone. She’d gotten beat on defense twice, once by Citron, and passed up an open three just to dish to Smith, who wasn’t even ready for it. It was a turnover.

It was bad, like noticeably bad. The kind of bad that made sports Twitter start asking if something was wrong.

Azzi chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes fixed on the Wings bench. Paige was pacing in front of the seats, towel draped over her shoulders, head down. She wasn’t even pretending to be composed anymore. Nalyssa tried to say something to her. Paige just nodded and looked up, directly at Azzi. And Azzi… flinched.

Shit.

This wasn’t what she meant to do. This was supposed to be fun. 

Azzi thought she’d fire Paige up. That it’d get her locked in. She thought Paige would come out swinging, torch the Mystics for daring to even flirt with the idea of taking what was hers. She thought Paige would have the kind of game where she dropped 25 just to spite the Mystics, the kind of night that ended with her backing Azzi against the door as soon as they got to the hotel room and saying mine in every possible way.

That was what Azzi had expected. A little fuel. A little bite. 

Not throwing off her game. Not making her doubt everything.

Azzi tugged at the collar of the jersey, suddenly very aware of how obvious it was. Bright red. Amoore #8. 

Cute… if you weren’t Paige Bueckers watching your girlfriend flaunt someone else’s name across her chest less than 24 hours after hard launching your relationship.

She chewed her lip as the players made their way into the tunnel. Paige didn’t look up once. Not toward the bench. Not toward the crowd. Certainly not toward Azzi.

Azzi had wanted a reaction. Just… not this one.

This wasn’t the fun kind of jealousy. This wasn’t Paige rising to the moment and proving a point. This was Paige shutting down, overthinking, spiraling, playing like she was stuck in her own head.

And Azzi, still stubborn, still too proud to admit it out loud, was starting to realize that maybe she’d misjudged the line between teasing and testing.

She slouched lower in her seat, elbow on the armrest, chin buried in her palm. 

She decided to open the group chat. UConn Huskies 💙💍. 

It had been buzzing with activity all game, mostly with playful jabs and updates. A few GIFs. Some exaggerated "OOPS" messages after Paige’s third turnover. Classic KK.

Azzi didn’t even want to scroll down to see the vote percentages. She knew what option was winning. Judging by Jana’s flame emojis and Sarah’s unhelpful "👀👀👀," her teammates were thriving off this chaos.

And then there it was:

KK: "New poll: What should Azzi do to fix being a dick and wearing the enemy’s jersey?"

Option 1: Beg for forgiveness after the game.

Option 2: Buy new shoes for lil Paigey.

Option 3: Put on that lingerie she packed and wait in the hotel room for Big Daddy Bueckers.

She exhaled, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Do I defend myself? 

The silence lasted maybe thirty seconds. Then the floodgates opened.

Finally, she typed:

Azzi: Okay but… do you guys actually think she’s mad at me?

The words hit her like a slap. And suddenly, all the teasing and jersey-stunting didn’t feel worth it. Not if Paige was hurt. Not if she was second-guessing herself. Not if Azzi did that.

Sarh: Girl.

Morgan: She is mad.

KK: I’d be mad. I am mad. You look like you are repping Georgia like y’all go way back 😭

Caroline: Azzi, you literally hard launched yesterday and then pulled the most passive aggressive side chick stunt of all time 💀

Sarah: Also. She missed a layup which she almost never does. What do you think?"

She stared at her phone, jaw tight. No more playing it cool. She had to fix this.

She opened Paige’s contact, stared at the empty message window, hen finally typed:

Babe, are you ok?

Read, almost Immediately. 

But nothing else. No bubble. Just that quiet little confirmation that Paige saw it, and still wasn’t ready to say anything back.

Azzi’s chest tightened. She glanced to make sure her dad wasn’t watching, took a breath, and typed the kind of message that might break through. The kind that usually worked when normal words weren’t enough. The kind that brought Possessive Paige out of hiding.

It was her asking for a second chance in Paige’s language.

Can you please come out and show them why, even if I wear someone else’s name on my back right now, I only ever moan yours when we get home?

Remind me who I belong to. I’ll be good for you when you do. Promise.

She hit send and was ready to see the effect.

Azzi sat on edge the entire second half—barely blinking, barely breathing—silently praying Paige would settle in. The arena was loud, tense, alive with every possession, but all Azzi could hear was her pulse hammering in her ears. Her hands were clenched in her lap, fingers curled tight in the hem of Georgia’s jersey. She hadn’t sent another message after that last one—but she didn’t need to.

Because Paige had read it. And now Paige was responding.

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t pretty. She was getting double-teamed off the inbound, blitzed every time she touched the ball, and still not getting much help. But she was fighting. Hard. Every floater came with a shoulder dipped through contact. Every pass was threaded like a dare. Every drive ended with her hitting the floor and popping back up like it just fueled her.

Azzi didn’t move. She just watched.

By the final stretch, Paige had clawed her way to 13 points. And then, with just seconds left in regulation, she pulled off a screen and hit a cold-blooded three to tie the game and send it to overtime.

Azzi shot up before the ball even dropped through the net, hands in the air, mouth wide, screaming without thinking. Pride surged through her like a flood. She was full of relief and awe and love. This was her girl.

And then Paige turned. She didn’t look at her teammates. She didn’t even glance at the bench. She looked straight at Azzi.

Their eyes locked across the chaos, and Azzi’s whole body went still. Paige didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. She just stared, held her there, then lifted her hand and pointed. One deliberate motion, right at her chest. Right at the red jersey.

You are mine.

Azzi’s heart stuttered so violently it nearly made her dizzy. Paige’s eyes burned into her with a promise so sharp it almost hurt. It said, You wanted a reaction? You got it. Now get ready for what’s coming.

Azzi looked down and suddenly couldn’t stand the feel of the jersey she was wearing. The red. The number 8. The smug little game she thought she’d been playing. It felt like wearing someone else’s skin. 

Her fingers flew to the hem and yanked it over her head, not caring who saw, not thinking about the cameras or Georgia or anyone else. She folded it once, maybe out of guilt, maybe just habit, and set it down behind her on the seat like it was something she no longer had permission to wear.

Azzi froze in place, heart stuttering. She didn’t even realize she was still wearing the red jersey until she looked down and suddenly hated it all over again. Her fingers yanked at the hem and she pulled it over her head like it was on fire, not caring if the arena cameras caught it or if Georgia saw. She couldn’t keep it on anymore.

When she looked up again, Paige was mid-huddle, sweat slick on her skin, hair damp, jaw tight but her eyes were still on Azzi. She’d seen the jersey come off. Of course she had. She was waiting for it.

And now she looked at Azzi like she was taking inventory. Her eyes dragged over Azzi’s now-bare shoulders, her fitted white UConn crop top, the deep rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath. And then, so subtle it almost didn’t register, Paige nodded.

It wasn’t a "thank-you" or a "you’re off the hook" nod.

No.

It was more of a a good girl nod. A that’s more like it nod. A you’re-in-so-much-trouble-later-and-I-hope-you-know-it nod.

Azzi sank back into her seat, suddenly hyper aware of every part of her body. Her pulse raced, her throat dry, her skin flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the arena lights. It was anticipation, pure want. The dizzy, sweet ache of having poked the wrong version of the bear and realizing, too late, that the bear liked being poked.

She tried to steady her breathing, tried to look composed, but she already knew.

She was in trouble. The kind of trouble that would show up in slow drips of sweat down the back of her thighs later, with Paige hovering over her until Azzi was begging for release.

And god, she deserved every second of it.

Overtime didn’t go how Azzi had hoped.

It started well enough. Paige hit a tough two right off the jump, then James came up with a steal and fed her for another clean finish at the rim. The Wings had momentum, briefly. But as always, without structure, without support, it crumbled fast. Missed switches, bad spacing, no real plan. And even Paige, locked in and pushing through, couldn’t hold the whole team together on her own.

Still, she fought. She always did. And she still finished with 20 points. Came damn close to a triple-double  through sheer willpower alone. She didn’t quit. She just ran out of hands.

The crowd emptied quickly after the final buzzer. People were already halfway to the parking lot by the time Azzi stood from her seat. Paige stayed behind, as always. She signed every poster, took every selfie with the kids pressed against the railing, even as her body sagged a little under the weight of the loss. Her smile was tired, but it was still there. Her shoulders tense, but still straight. That was Paige. Win or lose, she showed up.

Azzi watched all of it from courtside, the red jersey balled up in her hand now. It didn’t feel like a statement anymore, just a mistake she was ready to be rid of.

She made her way across the court toward Georgia, who was still near the bench, smirking like she’d just watched a live drama unfold and maybe enjoyed it a little too much.

"Thanks for the loan," Azzi said lightly, holding it out.

Georgia accepted it with a grin and a quick once-over that lingered a beat too long. "Anytime," she said, flicking her gaze over Azzi’s shoulder, straight toward Paige, who was still watching. Still tracking. "Though I gotta say... it looked better on you than it ever did on me."

Azzi didn’t dignify that with anything more than a tight smile, already turning away.

She lingered by the baseline with Lili and Amari, pretending to laugh, letting the noise of the court fade around her. She didn’t check her phone. She didn’t need to. She knew Paige would come to her.

And she did.

Azzi felt it before she saw it and then an arm wrapped around her from behind, firm and familiar, dragging her a step off balance.

Azzi didn’t resist. Her body fell into Paige’s without hesitation, like it had been waiting for permission. Her shoulder pressed under Paige’s jaw, her back tucked tight against her chest, and for a second, she just stood there. Breathing, absorbing. 

Paige smelled like heat and sweat and the same damn perfume Azzi had been sleeping in when she missed her too much. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this, Paige’s weight on her, the sense of being held intentionally, not just lovingly but fully possessed.

And Paige? She didn’t say hello. She didn’t ask. She just held her there, one hand gripping her waist, the other resting low on her hip, fingers splayed like a warning sign to anyone watching.

Mine.

Then Paige looked down at her with that maddeningly smug smile. "You really think you can wear someone else’s name on your back and not answer for it?"

Azzi blinked up at her, breath stuttering. "I thought it would get you fired up," she admitted. "That you’d…y’know, prove a point. On the court."

"Oh, I did," Paige murmured, eyes unblinking. "And now I’m going to prove the rest of it. Not here. Not in front of all these people. But you are going to pay for it."

Azzi swallowed. Her entire body responded to that tone, it was low and clipped. The kind of tone that promised she’d be lucky to walk straight tomorrow.

"I mean," she tried to deflect, voice lighter, "you’ve definitely made your point already…"

Paige didn’t even blink. "No. That was the warm-up."

Before Azzi could say another word, a voice behind them groaned dramatically.

"Oh my god. You two still lookl disgustingly obsessed with each other. Nothing’s changed."

Paige didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look away.

"Disgusting and exclusive," she said coolly, her voice dropping to a murmur as she leaned down, close enough that only Azzi could hear the rest. "And territorial as hell. Keep that in mind when I have you face-down tonight."

Azzi’s breath caught. Her heart forgot how to beat. Paige straightened like nothing had happened, throwing a casual wave toward a passing staffer.

Azzi just stood there, blinking like she'd been hit by a truck. One that smelled like sweat and victory and consequences.

She’d pushed. Paige had pulled.

And now she was in so much trouble. And she loved every second of it.

By the time they finally started heading out, the arena was almost entirely empty besides the staff cleaning up. Azzi had Paige’s gym bag slung over one shoulder, ignoring the way Paige kept glancing down at it with an expression that practically screamed give it to me. But Azzi just shook her head.

"No," Azzi said firmly, swatting her hand away. "Absolutely not. You carried the team tonight. You played forty minutes and got a bruised knee. The least I can do is carry your bag."

Paige narrowed her eyes. "Azzi—"

"Babe," Azzi cut in sweetly. "Let me be a good girlfriend and carry your stuff for once. You always carry mine."

Still, she muttered under her breath the entire walk to the parking lot, and Azzi caught enough of it to know that "good girlfriend" was going to be revisited. Thoroughly. Later.

When they reached the car, Azzi popped the trunk and turned to grab the keys from her back pocket, but Paige was already standing there, palm extended. Silent and Expectant. 

Azzi met her eyes and couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips. She dropped the keys into Paige’s hand like she was surrendering something more than just a fob.

"I may carry your stuff," she said, saccharine sweet, "but I’m not giving up passenger princess treatment."

Paige cocked her head, that sharp smile slowly spreading. "You are really pushing your luck and my limits tonight, princess."

"Pushing," Azzi echoed, already sliding into the passenger seat. "Not over it."

"Yet," Paige murmured.

They shut the doors almost in sync, the cabin falling into soft darkness. The air shifted, quiet and charged. No noise, no lights, no crowd. Just them. Paige’s hands on the wheel. Azzi practically vibrating beside her.

And Possessive Paige finally alone with her girl.

Paige turned toward her without a word, eyes sharp in the shadows, and reached out slowly, like she’d been holding back for too long and was finally ready to take. Her fingers found Azzi’s jaw, curling under it, her thumb brushing up the line of her cheekbone, firm and unhurried. She guided her in like gravity, lips brushing once, soft and purposeful, then again, deeper, hungrier, heat blooming between them.

"I missed you, baby," Paige murmured against her mouth, voice low and possessive, the baby nearly swallowed by how close they were.

Azzi let out a whimper, high and helpless, her fingers already clawing at the back of Paige’s neck, tangling into the damp curls stuck to her nape. She pulled her in again, harder this time—mouths crashing, breath catching, her legs shifting to pull Paige closer over the console. Their kisses turned messy fast. All tongue, teeth, gasps. Azzi made a small, broken sound every time Paige tugged at her bottom lip. 

It had only been two days, but with the month before that hollowed out by travel and tension and late-night missed calls, it felt like she was kissing life back into her lungs.

Paige leaned in harder, pinning Azzi into the seat. Azzi folded under her without resistance, knees parting, one thigh pressing up against the console. Paige's hand slid from her jaw down to her throat, thumb pressing right beneath her jawline. Azzi’s breath stuttered, eyes fluttering shut. Her whole body pulsed under Paige’s touch.

She was already shaking.

Paige didn’t stop kissing her until she felt it, felt how gone Azzi was. Then she pulled back just slightly, hovering above her, lips swollen, eyes black with promise. Her hand never left Azzi’s throat. She didn’t squeeze. She didn’t have to. The weight of it was enough.

Her smirk was slow, calculated, absolutely devastating.

"I haven’t forgotten about your little stunt," she said, voice low and deliciously cruel. "You think just because you handed the jersey back, you’re off the hook that you are a good girl again?"

Azzi’s pupils blew wide. Her breath hitched so sharp it was almost a gasp. She swallowed, her whole body taut with anticipation, thighs squeezing together without permission.

Paige leaned in closer, lips grazing her jawline, her voice dropping into something even darker. She was all breath and threat, velvet and warning.

"You’re not getting off easy tonight. You want to play games in public? You want to wear someone else’s name on your back and act like you don’t know who you belong to?"

Azzi whimpered, hips twitching upward like she could grind against the air. She was panting now, eyes dazed, hands tightening into Paige’s hoodie like an anchor.

"You’re mine," Paige growled against her ear. "And you’re gonna remember that for days."

Azzi couldn’t speak. She just nodded, desperate and shaking.

Paige kissed her once more, harsh and claiming, then pulled back, just far enough to look her in the eye.

"First I’m going to hold you down and make you scream my name over and over again until it’s the only one left in your head. And then I’m going to make sure your thighs are too sore to pull another stunt like that for a long time."

Azzi made a sound that was half-moan, half-plea. Her head fell back against the headrest, lips parted, eyes dazed.

"I’m serious," Paige said, softer now, but no less threatening. "I’m not going to rush it. You’re going to feel every second of it. And you’re going to thank me when it’s over."

Azzi’s voice finally broke through, wrecked and trembling. "Yes. Please."

Paige smiled, dark, satisfied, cruel in the way only someone who loved you could be before pulling away and starting the car.

Azzi Fudd was in big fucking trouble. She was about to pay for every second she spent in that red jersey. And god, she couldn’t wait.

[amusedbird]

I'm so tired of seeing all of these fucking yanks in the tages saying that 'this is what we could have gotten' and that she was brilliant, amazing, but ignoring what she said about Iran ('the greatest adversary of the US') and her extreme Zionistic outlook. Yes, she may have been an 'ally ' for the cisgender bisexual white man from some 'red state', and is certainly far better than trump on the matter, you neglect what she said about people 'willing to make that treacherous journey to the border, don't come' (paraphrased, I'm sure you can find the exact quote). Queer lives in the US matter, yes, of course, as a queer person, I know that, but she is still an imperialist tool. Queer people have not been bombed to death every single day under trump's regime, and yet Palestinians, and everyone else isnt'rael considers a threat, have. And they would have been bombed under her too. Yes, queer people have been injusticed under the presidency, and I would not be surprised if it led to the deaths of a handful of innocent people. And for them, my highest respect and dignity goes towards. Yet it is utterly incomparable to what is going on with isnt'rael's genocide. To think that it is, therefore, is a zionist, imperialist belief. To think that kamala harris is in any way 'good' is a zionist and imperialist belief. She is very much a racist, just not to the extent of trump.

it does not take a genius to figure that out.

Link

[fleurenese]

heyhey! idk if you reqs but if you do, can you make bsf!chris finding out the reader has crush on him and now he's fucking her dumb?

ㅤׂㅤ⊹ㅤㅤsmut,⠀(bestfriend dynamic) bsf!chris,⠀pnv, ⠀mild bumbification kink,⠀fingering,⠀size kink,⠀teasing

when Chris found out about your little crush, did you really think he wouldn’t pull you into his lap and fuck it out of you?

You weren’t even supposed to be doing anything.

It was just a hangout—his house, his hoodie slung over your smaller frame, the sleeves swallowing your wrists while your bare legs rested easily across his lap. It felt familiar, safe even… until his fingers dipped between your thighs like they owned you. Like this wasn’t the first time he’d had you open in his lap and pliant in his arms.

Chris leaned back against the couch cushions with you folded into his chest, his fingers already pushing up inside your cunt, slow and deep and purposeful. His other hand dragged your thigh open further across his lap, just enough for him to slip his palm flat over your clit and start rubbing it in gentle, hungry circles.

His tone, though, was the worst of it—teasing and smug, thick with that grin you couldn’t see but could feel.

“Didn’t think I’d find out from Matt, huh?”

he murmured low, brushing his nose into your hairline, lips curling against your temple. “Tellin’ my brother all the shit you shoulda said to me. How bad you want it... how dumb I make your pretty little head go.”

“C-Chris… I d-didn’t mean it like that, I s-swear…” As she let out a whimper as his fingers curled perfectly against that soft spot inside you, dragging back out with a wet noise before pressing in again.

"Fuckkk, ma... you’re soaked." His breath caught just a little, just enough to sound ragged at the edges. "You tryna act all innocent sittin’ on me like this, wearin’ my fuckin’ hoodie, but you’re squeezin’ my fingers like you need 'em."

Your hand curled into his shirt, drooling a little from your open mouth before catching yourself—only for Chris to tilt his head down and catch the drool on his thumb, thumb that he rubbed slowly under your bottom lip before bringing it down between your legs.

He pulled his fingers out, wet and glistening. Watched your folds clench around nothing, desperate.

Then you felt it—his cock twitching under you. Thick. Hot. Pressed up against the inside of your thigh under those loose sweats he always wore. He adjusted his hips just enough to lift you slightly, one hand holding your thigh while the other tugged his waistband down, letting his cock spring free—fat, flushed, and already leaking.

Chris groaned under his breath and dipped his thumb between your legs again, smearing your slick up over the tip of his cock, spreading it slow. His voice dropped to a rasp.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me, ma. Look at that… fuckfuck."

Your eyes fluttered as he pulled your panties aside with one hand, guiding the blunt head to your soaked slit. He let it rest there a second, dragging it through the mess he made between your folds, rubbing it against your clit until you squirmed in his lap.

Your hips jerked—needy, overwhelmed...“Nngh—t-too much, y’too big, Ch- chris—” he just chuckled, arms curling around you from behind.

"You’re so tiny, baby....Always forget how small this lil' cunt is until I gotta stretch it out allll over again," he muttered, kissing the side of your neck as he pushed in slowly—inch by inch, stuffing you full.

You gasped, back arching, thighs tensing. “C-chris– nghhh– ah...too much–”

He cooed at you, quiet but low. “Nah, you can take it. You always do. Just gotta let me help you.”

One of his hands held your waist firm, the other holding your thigh out, bouncing you slow and easy on his cock. His arms caged you in, snug against his chest, and your feet barely touched the couch cushion, your whole body helpless in his lap. You whined when he rolled his hips up from underneath, grinding deeper, brushing your clit with every slow bounce.

"S’tight, baby," he groaned, chin hooked over your shoulder. "So fuckin’ tight. You’re squeezin’ me like– like... you dunno what to do with it..."

His hand came up between your legs again, thumb circling your clit as he fucked up into you—gentle, deep thrusts that had your head falling back, eyes fluttering.

"Say it." He nuzzled into your hair, voice soft and dangerous. "Tell me what you told Matt... What you really wanted from me? Hm?"

You shook your head, lips trembling, but his thumb pressed a little harder and he bottomed out all the way, his cock so thick it pushed your belly out slightly. You cried into his chest, fingers fisting his hoodie, legs kicking uselessly as he held you steady.

"Say it, maaa," he dragged the word slow, almost like a mock. “Say how bad you wanna be fucked dumb. Say you only think straight when you’re full of me.”

You were already falling apart—hips twitching, thighs clenching around his, drool wetting your lips again as he bounced you faster, rougher now. His hands gripped your thighs like he owned them, pulling you down every time he pushed up, his cock bullying deeper inside your swollen pussy.

"Good girl..." he groaned, feeling your walls flutter around him. "That’s itttt– Gonna fuck the rest of those secrets outta you."

And you let him. Fucked out, whimpery, stuffed and small and drooling all over him—you let him.

ㅤ⠀ㅤㅤ⊹ㅤ⠀© RENESSAㅤㅤ⠀࣭ ㅤㅤ do not steal nor copy!Lil note; this is my first req 😭 I hope you like it! Btw thanks for 100 followers <3 wanna be on my taglist? Click here!

[cyanide-siren]

that's your ex?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You're working on a case and interrogate one of the eye witnesses with the Winchesters, who just happens to be your ex-boyfriend.

☆☆

You were working on a case with the Winchesters and were about to interrogate one of the eye witnesses to get more information on what had exactly happened. You didn't know who it was just yet but as you were standing at the doorstep and the door opened, your stomach dropped and eyes widened.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice with an even more familiar face said, surprised as well.

Oh, hell no. No no no no no no.

"What are you doing here? God, it's been such a long time. How are you?" the guy asked. The guy who had been your first boyfriend and first everything. Date, kiss, sex... And after all these years, there he was again.

"I'm... fine, thanks," you said quietly, awkwardly shifting your weight from one leg to another and wrapping your arms around your body as if to protect yourself from something.

"You guys know each other?" Sam asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah, we used to date in high school. You know, high school sweethearts," he explained, letting out a chuckle. He was much more relaxed in this situation than you were. Maybe just the presence of Sam and Dean made you unease. Maybe. But why?

You hadn't seen him since you departed ways after high school, him going to a college in a different state and you deciding to stay in your hometown and work.

"Uh, why don't we just get to the case and get this over with," you quickly said and started walking towards the couch in the living room.

The three guys followed you, and Dean made sure to sit next to you, his thigh brushing yours.

When you were done with getting the information you needed, you headed towards the door with Dean and Sam but didn't manage to exit the apartment when a voice stopped you.

"Hey, Y/N," your ex said and grabbed your arm, making you turn towards him. "Can i talk to you for a minute?"

"Um, i, uh..." you stuttered, not wanting to stay here any longer because of Dean and Sam but a part of you knew that there was still unfinished business with you that you needed to talk through.

"We'll wait in the car," Sam said and led Dean out of the apartment.

When the door was closed and you were left alone with your ex, he continued, "I was wondering... since we're more grown up now, would you like to give us another go?"

"You want to get back together?" you asked, lifting your eyebrows.

"Let me take you to just one date and we'll go from there, okay?" he pleaded and took your hand in his, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. "I've missed you, Y/N. You have no idea how much and now that you're here, i..."

You hesitated. Sure, he had been your first love and the one who you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with when you were teenagers, sure that you'd stay together forever. Get married, have kids, buy a house... It had been years since you last saw him and whatever feelings you had had for him had now faded. Not entirely, some part of you would always love him, but you didn't need to have him in your life anymore. You had moved on, as you thought he had done as well.

Dean was sitting in the car behind the wheel, looking at the two of you talking in the apartment, he could see you through the window. He examined every reaction you got from his words, every slight smile you gave him. He took your hands in his, brushing your knuckles. You didn't pull your hands away as Dean had hoped. Step away from him, push him away to tell him it was all over. What was he saying to you?

Dean turned his head away from you, clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth.

"She's not gonna get back with him," Sam reassured him, able to read his brother's mind just by examining the expressions on his face.

"Why would i care anyway if she did," Dean mumbled.

Sam was aware that Dean fallen in love with you, it was clear to anyone around him. It had first started as just a small, innocent crush and a little bit of flirting but as time went by, his feelings grew and grew, starting to be too large for him to handle. Dean wasn't able to confess his feelings to you, though he knew he should if he didn't want to look at you in someone else's arms. See someone else holding your hands.

One thing what also bothered Dean was that your ex was totally different compared to Dean, at least by the looks. Was he your type or would you be attracted to other types too? Shut up, Dean thought, almost wanting to slap himself on the face to get control of his mind.

Then, as Dean turned to look at you again, you were hugging your dear old ex-boyfriend, arms wrapped around his neck, his arms around your waist. Dean's heart dropped at the sight, chest tightening and both anger and sadness starting to take over his body. Dean had no right to be mad at you, of course he knew that, but his body didn't.

Sam witnessed the sight too: you with your ex and Dean losing his mind.

Eventually, you returned to the car, opening the impala's backseat door and hopping inside. Dean pretended like he hadn't paid any attention on your absence.

"Ready to go?" Dean asked. You didn't pay attention to the slight cranky tone in his voice but Sam could hear it loud and clear.

"Yeah, let's go grab something to eat. I'm starving," you groaned and slumped back against the seat.

Didn't want to go get dinner with that lover boy of yours, Dean thought. He had to bit his tongue not to let the words accidentally out loud. He wasn't jealous, you'd definitely catch up on it. If you didn't, Sam would and wouldn't stop teasing him about it. He was not jealous.

Fine, maybe he was a little jealous. Maybe he was the one who wanted to hug and hold you. Maybe he was the one who wanted to –

"Dean?" Sam said, startling Dean from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I asked if we could go to the diner where we ate at last time," you repeated.

"Oh, right. Yeah sure," Dean said, shortly glancing at you from the rearview mirror until turning his head to look back at the road.

☆☆

The three of you sat at a diner eating burgers and fries. It felt like several hours since you'd last gotten anything to eat.

You couldn't help but notice that Dean was much more quiet than usual, avoiding eye contact with you and just concentrating on his own meal.

Dean's mind and thoughts were wandering to several different directions all at once. How many times had your ex taken you out to eat burgers? How many times had he done this and that what Dean had done with you but in a romantic way?

"So," Sam broke the silence, quickly glancing at Dean before aiming his gaze on you on the other side of the table. "Are you going to see him again?"

"What?" you asked. "Oh, right. No, i've moved on from him. I wished him all the best in life but i'm not going back to him anymore."

"Really? You just... looked awfully close over there," Dean mumbled, and you weren't sure if you even heard him correctly.

"Were you watching us?" you asked, narrowing your eyes and a teasing smile lingering on your lips.

"Me, i, no," Dean stuttered, quickly turning back to his food and taking another bite from his burger, now slightly larger so he wouldn't need to reply to anything for a moment.

Dean wondered how many exes you actually had, you had never talked about any of them. Why would you? It was none of his, or Sam's, business and in the past. But how many were there? How many men had been with you and –

"Dean?" you said. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course," Dean replied and pulled on a smile which might have managed to convince you but not Sam.

Why did you have to look so pretty even when you had mayonnaise sliding down from the corner of your mouth and a piece of lettuce stuck between your teeth? So pretty when you had dark bags under your eyes for not having slept in the past 32 hours? Hair greasy for not having washed it in the past three days? None of those things could take away your beauty.

Dean wanted to tell you how much he cared about you. How much it hurt him when he saw you hugging and holding hands with a guy who wasn't him. But every time he would have had a chance to do so, the words were stuck in his throat and he couldn't get a single word out. Not when you were looking at him like that with those pretty eyes of yours. God, your eyes were pretty.

Maybe some day he'd be able to tell you how damn deep in love with you he was.

☆☆

On the drive back to the motel, it was getting dark outside and you were growing more and more tired, eyes feeling heavy and closing themselves. You tried to stay awake, it wouldn't take more than 20 minutes to get to the motel, if even that much.

However, you soon gave up and fell asleep, head against the cold window.

When Dean had parked the car in the parking lot, he turned to look at you over his shoulder just to see you peacefully asleep, forehead against the glass. Great. Dean didn't want to wake you up, this wasn't the first time he'd had to carry you out of the car, but now if he opened the door, you'd fall on the ground.

With Sam's help, Dean managed to get you out of the car without waking you up – Dean had learned quickly since he had met you that you were a heavy sleeper. He carried you into the motel room, your head resting against his chest, ear right against his beating heart. You were a heavy sleeper, sure, but Dean was afraid that his rapid heart beat alone was enough to wake you up.

Dean carefully laid you on the mattress, placing your head comfortably on a pillow and pulled your shoes off. He covered you with a thick blanket, tucking it all the way to your jaw to keep you warm and safe while you were asleep.

He couldn't reveal his feelings to you, no. What if you didn't feel the same? Saw him just as a friend? He didn't even want to imagine how awkward things would become between the two of you.

Also, if others, such as demons or other creatures who wanted Sam and Dean dead, found out about the person Dean was in love with, they would definitely turn it against him.

But the image of you hugging your ex was still bugging his mind, glued there. He wanted to be the one to do that. To hold you, to kiss you – to tell you how much he loved you. For fuck's sake, he was a coward but he wasn't someone to have good things stay in his life longer than for a short moment.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Dean whispered, taking one last look at you and walked to the door, silently closing it behind him.

☆☆

[starmocha]

11 months — first father's day

[Sylus + Daughter ★ 1377 words ★ Masterlist ★ Birdie Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus' first Father's Day. Tag list: Under cut 【 request to be added 】

A/N: I'm over a week late, but life happens and all that jazz.

There was a warm breeze that passed through Linkon City, and within the city park, Sylus found himself drifting in and out of sleep on a picnic blanket on this lazy Sunday morning. Suddenly, he let out an overexaggerated grunt when he felt small little palms slapping against stomach repeatedly, joined by excited babblings.

He cracked one eye open, smirking at the sight of the eleven-month-old girl in her red-and-white pomegranate-printed summer dress giggling before she plopped down on the ground, instantly sucking her thumb.

“Trying to look innocent now, are you, my little birdie?” Sylus questioned with a smirk as he sat half-way up, with his forearms still grounded to hold his weight.

His daughter pulled her thumb out of her mouth and giggled at her father before clapping her hands together.

“It’s no use acting so cute,” Sylus teased, “I have my eyes on you. Don’t think this little façade of yours will work on me, my little birdie.”

Immediately, his daughter babbled again confused before she turned around and started crawling toward you. You instantly scooped the baby girl into your arms and nuzzled your cheek against hers. “Oh, dear, did the big bad guy over there scared you, baby?”

The girl squirmed in your hold before you set her down. You smiled as she attempted to stand up on her own. She took clumsy little steps back toward Sylus. Immediately he sat up, smiling, as his arms were outstretched.

“That’s it, good job, baby,” Sylus praised, “You’re doing so well today.”

His smile widened when he noticed you had whipped out your phone, holding it sideway as you recorded the scene before you. His eyes drifted back to his little girl, chuckling when she stumbled and fell on her bottom. Before she could cry, he encouraged her once more, “It’s alright. You’re fine. Try again, baby.”

As if she understood her father, the little girl pushed herself upright again, and stumbled her way back to her father before she collapsed into his waiting arms, giggling when he lifted her high into the air. She kicked her feet excitedly before Sylus lowered her back down, holding her close in his embrace. He kissed the top of her head, murmuring sweetly, “You did so well, my little birdie.” He lowered his voice so only you and your daughter could hear him speak, “Why, soon you will be running rampage around the base.”

You ended the recording, laughing. “I don’t think we will be able to babyproof the whole place for her,” you teased.

Sylus lifted his daughter back into the air, smiling when she giggled again and started patting his face excitedly with both small hands of hers. He blew a kiss into her stomach, chuckling alongside his daughter’s excited giggles and your laughter. “She has free reign of the base,” he said, setting his daughter back down into his lap, with her facing you. “It will be hers someday anyway.”

You sighed at him exasperatedly. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

He shrugged. “So what?”

Before either of you could continue your conversation, your daughter babbled loudly and reached for the array of picnic food you had prepared. You smiled, and picked up a plastic container full of cutup strawberries. You fed one to her, saying gently, “Chew thoroughly, baby.”

“How about me?” Sylus teased you, opening his mouth wide, waiting.

You pretended to roll your eyes at him before you fed him a cutup strawberry. “Chew thoroughly, Sylus,” you teased him back.

“Mm, it’s sweet,” he responded, and before you could react, he had already guided you closer to him, his lips pressed to yours in a tender kiss. It didn’t last for long, but it was still enough for you to freeze up until you both heard the baby girl between you both crying out:

“Ah, ah!”

Sylus chuckled while you laughed awkwardly and reached for another piece of strawberry. “Alright, Little Miss, here’s another strawberry for you.”

“Bossy little birdie,” Sylus quipped with pride, his smile unwavering as he watched his daughter happily eat her piece of fruit. He chuckled when she yelled out again for more strawberries. “She has the makings of a great leader.”

“You are incorrigible.”

Your daughter leaned in closer eagerly for her next bite, but suddenly her eyes widened in shock when she was lifted into the air, her vision of you—and her precious strawberries—gone, replaced by her father’s smirk. She cried out confused before giggling when her father blew another kiss into her stomach.

“Do you hear that, baby? Mommy thinks Daddy is incorrigible,” Sylus said with feigned hurt, clearly trying to provoke you, but instead of falling for his ploy, you matched his wits.

“Using our daughter to have your ways?” you questioned him with mock astonishment. “For shame. I thought you were above such underhanded moves, Sylus.”

He huffed in amusement at your attempts to mess with him, his crimson eyes brightening the more he noticed you trying to hide your smiles. “Sweetie,” his voice lowered, and discreetly, he motioned with his fingers, manipulating his Evol to pull you closer to him, until you were settled in his lap with your daughter in yours. You shivered as his breath brushed against your ear, too stunned to register what had just happened. “I can be even more underhanded than this.”

“N-not in front of our daughter,” you scolded him with rosy cheeks.

“Very well,” he conceded lightheartedly, but his hand on your hip pulled you closer until your head rested against his chest. He leaned down, kissing the top of your head, his playful tone now gone. In its place, there was a familiar sincerity, warm and trusting, as he kept his words soft for only you and your daughter to hear: “Thank you.”

“For what?” You peered up confused, meeting his amused gaze. “I didn’t do anything…”

Sylus shook his head in disagreement. He tilted your chin up, and another fleeting kiss landed on your lips. “This picnic. This life. Our daughter,” he listed each one patiently, continuing in that same gentle tone, “You have given me so much already, and I fear I am still greedy for more.”

“Ah ah!”

You both laughed and looked down at the baby girl in your lap, seeing her eyeing the container of strawberries again. She squirmed in your hold, hand reaching out for the elusive fruit. She cried out in frustration when you held her tighter.

“Looks like you are not the only greedy one here today, Sylus,” you teased.

Sylus discreetly used his Evol to grab a small piece of strawberry, motioning it closer until it was held between his fingers. He peered down at his daughter, seeing her eyes widened with eagerness, her mouth agape, waiting.

“Do you want this strawberry, my little birdie?” He guided the strawberry to his own mouth, but stopped when his daughter cried out in frustration again.

“Ah ah!”

“This is the last sweet strawberry,” Sylus said, “What does this little birdie have to trade for such a delicious fruit?”

Your daughter babbled in confusion, looking up at you for help.

“Did this mean old dragon steal your strawberry, baby?”

Your daughter squirmed and reached out to her father for her fruit.

“Maybe a kiss will appease him?” you suggested and held the baby girl up. You guided her closer to Sylus’ cheek, and in the next instance, your husband received a wet kiss.

“Such a generous trade,” he quipped, and fed his daughter the last piece of strawberry. “I feel like that kiss has earned you a strawberry farm, my little birdie.”

“Well, her first birthday is coming up soon,” you said, humoring him.

“Indeed,” he murmured, looking at you fondly again. “It’s already been nearly a year since she’s arrived…”

You both looked down at the baby girl in your lap, seeing her watching you both with wide-eyed curiosity. You kissed the top of her head. “Do you know how loved you are, our little birdie?”

Your daughter cried out excitedly in response, clapping her hands in glee.

“Thank you for coming into the world.” Sylus leaned down, his cheek nuzzling against his daughter’s before he kissed her cheek, “Thank you for being ours.”

Tag list: @lavlynyan @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yes-no-maybe-soo @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin @sylusfluffymeow @asiaticapple @rainbowsnowflake @littleapplle @animegamerfox @deepspacenova 【 request to be added 】

[ekatkit]

i looked up all the words and:

flaneur: "someone who wanders aimlessly" (jeanstor - the twitter op - put "fake uncool flaneur who theorize parties" and i have many questions for jeanstor. why are you against people who wander aimlessly while theorizing parties? how does one theorize parties? why do you know what someone is theorizing about when they're aimlessly wandering? do you know anyone that identifies as or uses the word to describe themself? what makes someone a fake flaneur? is there a group of people that consider themselves to be flaneurs?)

imjustagirlism: doesn't seem to exist as a word or a slang term, and i've not been able to extrapolate much besides it might mean something along the lines of "someone who is a girl" but in a negative context? or it could mean "someone who believes they're inherently innocent because they're a girl." it could also be from the "i'm just a baby" meme? (I got the second one from the "boys will be boys" excuse people use whenever said boys did something f-ed up)

goreblogger: "someone who blogs about gore" (not in the dictionary and not a slang term, but it is similar enough to "fanblog" to extrapolate a meaning)

imjustagirlism goreblogger would maybe be someone who's excusing their love for gore with the fact they're a girl??? or someone who blogs about gore and excuses all their bad takes by saying "i'm just a girl??? idk

tenderqueer: "Typically a queer white hipster who uses identity politics to avoid accountability. Competitive oppression & self victimization. Centralizes themselves and their feelings in social / political movements that aren’t about them." (... this feels like it could be imjustagirlism with a different coat?)

what does any of this have to do with someone's ability to write a story?

anyway, headspace-hotel is correct in both of their additions.

[kunawned]

★ . . streamer!choso .ᐟ

streamer!choso is your typical gamer guy — eyes glued to the screen for hours while playing his games, rarely getting up to take a break. his diet consists mainly of ramen and soda. it's a wonder he's even got a good physique to begin with.

streamer!choso decided to start streaming on twitch on a whim, never expecting much from it and just something to do for fun. he just thought it could be a way to make a quick buck and he's really good at gaming so what could be the harm?

streamer!choso gained an absurd amount of followers relatively quickly, making him both overwhelmed and grateful from the sudden attention.

streamer!choso who's known for his quiet and cool demeanour. he doesn't scream or yell, unlike other streamers out there which made him different from the rest. the most he's ever done is string out a line of curses under his breath.

streamer!choso is known as that 'hot streamer dude with the face tat.' he does get rather flustered when his viewers point out how sexy and attractive he is, since he doesn't think he is so himself. his deep voice only makes people swoon over him even more and it's almost alluring how he speaks.

streamer!choso who met you in university during one of your shared classes. you had come up to him and said that you watched his streams, and despite his indifferent expression, his heart swelled with pride and thanks — you were the first person to have ever said anything about it. there was a twinge of bashfulness too because... my, he thought you were so cute.

streamer!choso who would see your username pop up during his streams and he couldn't help the light pink that dusted his cheeks. he'd try and keep himself composed but whenever you made comments as he played, the tips of his ears would turn red. you'd say such sweet and cute things — 'eee my fave streamer >_<' ; 'you play so well <3' ; 'congrats on 20k, cho ♡!'. he loved when you called him cho!

streamer!choso who had finally plucked up the courage to talk to you outside of his streams. he was a bumbling and babbling mess, having never done something like this before. he usually kept to himself but he just wanted to — had to — talk to you.

streamer!choso wanted to bury himself into a hole for having embarrassed himself so much when speaking to you for the first time. he thought you must see him as an absolute weirdo now but to his surprise, you just giggled softly and said to him, "you don't do this often, do you?".

streamer!choso started to spend more and more time with you and found himself falling for you. you were pretty, cute, sweet, fun, caring. how couldn't he like you? the only thing that bothered him was that you two didn't spend time outside of lessons and studying together.

streamer!choso took a while to finally ask you out. you were both sat at the library, finishing up on an assignment when he just blurted out, "you free this week?". you didn't register at first what he meant so you asked innocently, "to study together?". he shook his head and said if you were free to hang out — to go on a date.

streamer!choso who started dating you and was so much more of a gentleman than you would've thought. sure, he was a nervous wreck the first few times you went out but he never skimped out on anything and treated you like a doll — holding the door open for you, giving you flowers every time you met, walking you back to yours.

streamer!choso who's been dating you for the last two years and is still the sweetest guy ever. he still does everything he did when you first began going out and with the money he's amassed, he just spoils you even more.

streamer!choso who will always make time for you. at the start of your relationship, it was something he struggled with, playing games for hours on end having become habitual to him. but soon he realised how much quality time means to him and so he drops his game the second you're with him.

streamer!choso who loves when you show interest in the games he plays. he loves teaching you and playing with you. he finds it so adorable how serious you can get when playing.

streamer!choso loves to have you seated in his lap while he games. he adores how you watch him intently and squirm with joy whenever he wins. sometimes you don't really understand what's going on but you're content with just watching him play.

streamer!choso who has mentioned to his viewers that he is seeing someone. they're all incredibly curious as to who he's seeing but he just wants to keep it private.

streamer!choso who can't help but randomly talk about you during his streams. his viewers find it so sweet how he talks about you and it just makes them wonder who this 'mystery girl' is!

"she put this sticker on my headset. cute huh?" "my girlfriend finds this character really hot." "my girlfriend bought me a new keyboard. she's just the best." "she decorated my mic. i really like it."

[paucubarsisimp]

forza ferrari

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: in which you decide to get back at lando by wearing a ferrari hoodie

warnings: none! lando being a drama queen?

a/n: this was requested on my wattpad!

you weren’t exactly proud of the ferrari hoodie. but you also weren’t not proud of it. after the fight with lando last night — the stupid, too-loud, too-late fight that ended with both of you turning your backs in bed like teenagers — you needed a little petty revenge.

so. you pulled out the ferrari hoodie he once told you he “didn’t trust” when you bought it as a joke, and you wore it. to the race. in public. where he could see it.

it was childish. dramatic. possibly career-ending.

perfect.

you weren’t even in the paddock for five minutes before you saw him — and he saw you.

lando froze mid-conversation with a poor, innocent engineer, his eyes locking onto the red like it physically pained him. his hand dropped, his jaw followed. and then—

“what the f—” he started walking. fast.

you smiled. sweet. innocent. sipped your iced coffee.

“you’re wearing that?” he said when he reached you, already reaching for the hoodie drawstrings like he might tear it off your body himself.

“good morning to you too,” you said.

lando blinked, his voice a whisper-shriek. “you wore a ferrari hoodie? here? to my race? are you—are you actually trying to kill me?”

“what, this?” you looked down, feigning surprise. “it was the only thing clean.”

“you own eleven of my hoodies.”

“yeah, but none of yours say ‘drives for a competent team’ on the front.”

he physically staggered.

“that’s it,” he said, dramatically, “we’re done. over. this is a betrayal. you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

you snorted. “you don’t have a lawyer.”

“well i do now. and they’ll be filing a lawsuit for emotional damage.”

“how about you just admit you were wrong last night?”

lando groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “i was wrong, okay? i was a dick. and now my punishment is this.” he gestured at your hoodie like it had personally offended his ancestors.

“and what do we learn from this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he sighed, head tipping back like the heavens might give him strength. “never go to bed mad at someone who owns other teams’ merch.”

“very good,” you nodded.

he stepped closer, eyes softening, fingers tugging gently at the sleeves of the hoodie now. “can you… take it off? please? before someone takes a picture and i get disowned by the team?”

you smirked. “maybe. if you win today.”

lando groaned. “you drive a hard bargain.”

“well,” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “don’t crash and we’ll talk.”

bonus

he didn’t win. but he did nearly rip the hoodie off you backstage and stuff you into his own papaya one instead.

“you’re mine again,” he muttered, zipping it up dramatically like a rom-com character. “peace has been restored.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you said, smiling into his chest.

“and you’re the worst,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “never do that to me again.”

you didn’t make any promises.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout , @linnygirl09, @spidybaby, @dessashippr lmk if you want to be added!

[starboye]

no nut november

trying to get someone like simon riley, a military lieutenant, a tough man who doesn't break under pressure to fail no nut november is a challenge in itself but that doesn't mean it's impossible

the boys had made simon tey and do the while stupid thing, you cant cum for the entirety of november and if you did that you win, so simon decided "what the hell" and went with it, he was two days in and going strong

little did he know the boys paid you to get him to fail, do whatever just get simon to cum, so the first days may have seemed easy to him but after a couple more days he was struggling to not poo a boner every hour

every time you cane around you were bending over in front of him, lingering touches, and hard flirting, and with him having a crush on you and all it just made it all the worst "so hows your day ghost" you look up at him all innocent looking as if you weren't cooking up a plan in your devious brain "it was good just trained so recruits and-" he was cut off by the sight of you blatantly staring at his crotch

"oh sorry you can keep going" you look back up at him, his face plastered with a shocked expression but nonetheless continuing his story before again getting stopped by the sight of you looking him up and down while biting your lip "you okay ghost you look a little red, ever under the mask" you tease and he's quick to run away

your plan was working wonderful and all, and after a couple more days of just teasing and taunting the poor man he had about five days left before he would win but that became so much harder when he saw you in the gym showers after working out, ass all perky, body all glistening and sweaty he just needed that

but no he tried to shake the thoughts away but it was impossible when you just looked so fucking sexy, you caught him staring at you just from the coner of your eyes while you were showering "well are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna come fuck me big boy" you said and in no time he was naked an rushing to get behind you

fucking you like a mad man under the water while hoping no one was in the locker room to hear him groaning and panting while emptying load after load in your once tight hole, just felt so good finally cumming after weeks of no action, not even jerking off

by the end of it you could barely feel your legs and you were so dazed you just feel to the ground so simon scooped you up and took you to the medic "and what happened here" the medic asks "i think he just went to hard in the gym" he awkwardly tries to avoid eye contact "worth it" you chuckle

xoxo, starboye💋

taglist: @mailmango @boypied @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac @r0mcom-8ngel @bbibbiiu @tqrgaryenfilms

[kissingraine]

Forwards Beckon Rebound — TF One Megop (drabble)

He's not sure he can look at him the same now, the wound inflicted constantly reminding him of what he did, what he decided his role was in this war, and what he killed to start it. The Matrix had brought him back, but not whole. Megatron isn't sure if he should be pissed off that he wasn't chosen or that Orion Optimus didn't resent him for everything he inflicted on him. Of something that was already done with no way to reverse it.

Optimus’ plating still bore the scorch-mark from the fusion cannon—the exact same one that tore through his spark chamber and almost made the thrum of it permanently silent. The weld-lines glowed faintly when the light hit just right, like the Matrix had stitched him up in a hurry. And it isn't like he was showing it off or anything by not covering it. It just... felt suffocating to hide something that was clearly his fault. That he knew something was going on and yet, he merely watched as the only mech he held closest to his spark was slowly consumed by hatred when he could've stopped it.

He didn't know how or what exactly. Just that he should have been able to. Help him like how D’s helped him escape trouble countless times before.

They're somewhere deep. Can't recognize where, though. D, err... Megatron must have followed after him.

At least he hopes he did.

Megatron watched from the doorway, guilty and longing etched into every silhouette of his frame. The anger's still there, the embers of it flickering beneath his new and polished plating but so is his best friend. He hadn't spoken since he rose again. What could he even say at this point after crossing so many lines? Sorry for killing you, Prime? Sorry I hesitated, but fired anyway? Sorry you still look like a corpse I made because I was too self-absorbed at the time I lost sight of what actually mattered?

But Optimus looks up from the console, bright and bejeweled blue optics tired yet soft.

“You gonna keep standing there like a statue, D,” he murmured, “or are you coming to help?”

Flinching at the nickname, his ped takes him a step forward. “...You shouldn't call me that,” said Megatron, voice rough. “Not after what I did.”

Optimus shrugs, “Eh. You win some, you lose your entire arm.”

Still joking at a time like this. “It's not funny, Pax—” Megatron growls, shuttering when he realizes what's come out of his intake.

The Prime only gives him a faint smile—fragile, painful, but real.

“I'm glad you're still here with me, D.”

Primus, Megatron thought. How easy was it for him to earn that trust back?

And how would it look then when he finds out that Megatron wasn't here for him but to finish the job?

How do you keep looking at me like I didn't just snuff out your spark? Why don't you look at me with disgust instead of that... that stupid look on your face? Like I'm not a monster?

Villain and violent...

Infant and innocent.

(look at his stupid face omg😭)

That one au where OP damage stays after hes revived