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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 days ago

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Hold Me (More Like That)

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, fluff, pre-established relationship, lotta smut (oral m! receiving, p in v sex)

Summary/Warnings: Dean takes a second to pick up on what you want, but doesn't disappoint once he starts to play your game.

Author's Note: Sorta request from an anon! I wanna be thrown around so bad you guys don't even know.

Word Count: 3.3k

“I bet I could beat you in a fight.”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“I could.” You push up on Dean’s chest, glaring at him in the shifting light of the TV. “You don’t believe in me.”

A small smile plays on Dean’s lips, but he doesn’t look away from the movie. “Never said that. I’m pretty damn sure I agreed with you-“

“Yeah, but you said sure.” You drop your tone to mimic his, and that gets his attention. “That’s how you say sure when you don’t really agree, Dean, I know you-“

“Alright.” Dean catches your finger as you poke his chest. “I don’t think you could beat me in a fight, baby. You win.”

You whack his chest, and his grin only grows.

“That what you wanted to hear?”

“You know it’s not-“

“Then you want me to keep lyin’?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, I want you to admit I’d beat you.”

“Okay.” Dean shrugs, kissing your knuckles before turning back to the TV. “You’d beat me. You’d kick my ass, Sammy would have to drive me to the hospital, and- Oof-“

You’d climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and bracing your hands on his shoulders. Dean raises his brows with a half amused, half befuddled expression, and his hands fly to your hips in half a second.

He could push you off—easily, too—but he won’t.

You really want him to.

“I bet I could beat you.” You lean down until your noses are almost bumping. “In a fight.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” Dean hums your name, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles on the bare skin under your shirt. “What’re you doing?”

You shrug. “Trying to make you take me seriously.”

“I always take you seriously-“

“No. You don’t think I could beat you.”

For a man you know looks for any reason to jump your bones—you’ve seen him walk you back against a wall because the wind blew up your skirt, and he needs to check you’re okay—Dean is impressively confused about what’s happening. He just keeps looking at you in confusion, holding you firm enough by your hips you know he’s not going to take your bait and toss you around. You’re going to have to step it up.

You love him. He’s adorable and sweet and trying really hard to be a good boyfriend, to the point that you feel sort of bad about what’s about to happen, but you’ll get over it. Call it vengeance for when he tried to prove he could change a tire faster than you could, and it was just an excuse to fuck you on the hood of the car.

“C’mon.” You drag his hands off your hips, pinning them to the couch, and he doesn’t fight you at all. “I can win, Dean.”

“Yeah, you could-“

“Stop agreeing with me-“

He snorts, putting on a weak, mock show of trying to push out of your grip, but mostly just flexing his arms and making the heat in your core spark. “Look, sweetheart, you’re stronger-“

“I didn’t say I was stronger,” you grind down onto him, disguising it as a just a shift of your body, and Dean’s jaw twitches slightly. “I said I could beat you.”

You grind again, and he lets out a long, slow breath.

Progress.

“You want the truth, baby?” He gives you a pointed look, still not struggling against you, and you nod.

“I could-“

“No, you couldn’t.” Dean shrugs, and to sort of obviously prove his point, pushes just one hand out of your hold to wrap around your waist. “Not ‘cause I don’t think you’re strong, or smart, or sexy as fuck when you kick ass. But I would beat you. I’ve beaten Sam, and he’s a fuckin’ Sasquatch. It’s my freakin’ job-“

“It’s my job, too-“

“It’s your job when we’re real short on hands.” Dean eyes narrow, and that was the right button. He doesn’t like the maybe you should hunt more conversation. “And we’re not.”

You raise your brows. “So I couldn’t beat you because I don’t hunt?”

“Yes- No-“ He sighs, hauling you a little further up his chest. “You just couldn’t beat me, baby, I promise-“

“Prove it.”

Dean frowns at you. “What?”

“If you think I can’t beat you.” You grab his arm around you—he lets you move it again, but that’s fine, you don’t actually care about winning—and pin it back down. “Then prove it.”

“I’m not gonna fight you, sweetheart-“

You shrug. “Then I win. And if I can beat Dean Winchester in a fight, maybe I should hunt more-“

That does it. Your words turn into a yelp as Dean flips you over like it’s nothing, pinning your hands over your head and pressing his hips down to keep you pinned to the couch. You have to take a quick breath to stop from caving right away, but you can see his muscles rippling through his shirt and his eyes shamelessly scanning your form below him, and he’s half-hard already and pressed right into your thigh-

“I don’t know what goin’ on with you.” His voice is a half growl, and the sound almost vibrates through your body. “But I can beat you, babygirl. And you fuckin’ hate hunting-“

“Maybe I just miss you when you’re gone,” you challenge, hooking your leg around him and flipping him back over with a grunt. “You always leave me, De, and I get lonely-“

He snorts, standing up with you almost thrown over his should. “I call you every day, smartass, and I never hear you complaining when you cum from just me talkin’ to you.”

“Not the- fuck-“ You’re trying to squirm away as he walks through the halls of the bunker—the movie long forgotten—but it’s not working in your favor. “It’s not the same-“

“Then you can come on a few hunts and stay in the hotel.”

He needs to stop being so rational and sweet. “No, I want to hunt-“

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Dean-“

You squeak as he drops you onto the mattress, standing over you with a glower.

“You don’t want to hunt,” he grunts your name, grabbing your face between his hands with an adoring, vaguely annoyed expression. “You hate it, you always get mad about blood on your clothing- Hell, you get pissed about blood on my clothing-“

“I’m over it.” You lie quickly, and throw all your weight into pulling Dean down. He lands on the mattress with a grunt, and you crawl back on top of him with a grin. “I can beat you, Dean. You haven’t proven I can’t.”

He shakes his head. “I told you I’m not fighting you, sweetheart-“

“Cause you’ll lose.”

“I-“ His eyes narrow on yours, right as you wiggle slightly, and you know that expression.

You won.

“If I beat you, you drop the hunting thing.”

You nod quickly, and don’t even get the chance to say deal before Dean’s moving. He flips your back over with practiced ease, and he probably could’ve won right there, but you’re determined to put on a mock show. So when his hand go to pin both of yours, you worm then against his chest and shove right into his gut. It catches him off guard, just enough for you to roll away and scramble up onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Dean grunts, and rises up on his knees before dropping onto his side, just enough to knock the wind slightly out of your chest, and pry you off his neck. You try to roll away, but he’s—somehow—faster, and catches you by the waist, hauling you right up into his lap and pinning your arms behind your back with one hand, the other grabbing your jaw to keep your gaze trapped on his.

And you’ve lost. It was only a few seconds of fighting, but you lost dramatically.

In Dean’s eyes, at least, you lost.

But you feel a little high, right now. Dean’s big and warm and all around you, touching you everywhere with his chest pressed right against your breasts and his legs wrapped around you to keep you pinned to him. There’s a building, almost mind-numbing ache for him between your thighs, and you can feel his muscles every time he shifts, and he barely out of breath but you’re a giggling, needy mess his arms, and-

You can see the exact moment it hits him. He blinks at you for a second, his grip tightening on your jaw just enough to pull out a tiny, soft moan, and his cock twitches against your leg.

“You’re fucking-“ He cuts himself off with a groan and shake of his head. “Son of a bitch, sweetheart, if you wanted to be fucked, you coulda told me.”

You shake your head, still beaming at him like an idiot. “Better when you mean it. I- I wanna feel you, Dean, please-“

“Please, what?” He hums, squeezing your jaw again, right as he thrusts up against your clothed cunt. “Please fuck you? Toss you around? Or should I make you wait, for giving me a damn heart attack about hunting?”

You flush, and shake your head. “I’m sorry, I just- You weren’t getting it and I- I wanted-“

“I know what you wanted.” Dean shrugs, grinning down at you. “You wanted me to touch you, didn’t you.”

You nod desperately, and he’s so close. His lips brushing over yours, his grip on you tight and perfect and god-

“You wanna touch me, babygirl?” His question is a low, teasing hum, his hips jerking up again to make sure you can feel how hard he is, and a high, needy moan escapes your lips.

“Dean, please-“

He shakes his head, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Answer the question, sweetheart-“

“Yes- I do, I need it-“

“Yeah, you do.” He mutters, his hand on your jaw dragging down to rest lightly on your throat. “Lie down.”

You scramble back the second Dean lets go of you, settling into the pillows and giving him your prettiest, most hopeful doe-eyed look. He just chuckles, peeling his shirt and jeans at a painfully slow speed, and gives you a pointed expression. He doesn’t have to say it aloud to know what he’s asking. You know him well enough.

“Not those,” he grunts when you go for your panties, the rest of your clothing now discarded onto the floor. “Wanna rip them off you.”

You sigh, pouting up at him, and it hard not to get dizzy from his attention—standing at the edge of the bed, all strength and softness, stroking his cock to the sight of you below him—but you manage. “You always rip them off of me, Dean, I’m going to run out of underwear-“

“Good.” He mutters, starting to prowl over you with an almost feral grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Dean-“

“Don’t worry, baby.” He hums, and your protests about the panties die in your throat as he stops right over you, pressing his thick cock right on your lower lip. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

You hum, blinking hopefully up at him as you open your mouth, and he nods. Dean’s hand tangles in your hair as he slides into your mouth, and you moan shamelessly around him, making his hips jerk and his dick press right against the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” Dean groans your name, and you suck on him, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he pulls slightly out. “You’re gonna choke, you can’t- Shit-“

It’s too easy to whine and run your tongue up his shaft, and he ruts into your mouth with a groan.

“God- You’re-“ He glares down at you, and you return it with an innocent expression. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

You just blink at him sweetly, grabbing his thighs, and trying to guide him deeper into your mouth, and his brows raise, his voice suddenly a slight rasp.

“More, baby?”

You hum, already grinding into the sheets from the feeling of him heavy in your mouth and the intensity of his gaze, and Dean groans.

“You gotta stop me if it’s too much-“ You swallow around him, and his words turn into a loud moan that goes straight between your legs.

The leash Dean’s been keeping on his movements snaps, and your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure as he starts to fuck your mouth. You can feel his gaze as the lewd sounds of his balls slapping your chin and his cock sliding in and out of your lips fills the room. Your nails are digging into his thighs, and your breathing is heavy through your nose, but it feels so good.

There’s all the power of him over you, making you lightheaded and your pussy start to clench around nothing every time he groans your name. You can taste the salt of his precum on your tongue whenever you manage to flick it over the head of him, and when you whimper around him, he always pulls all the way out before slamming back it and groaning your name.

He’s getting close. You can feel it in the growing sloppiness of his thrusts and the tightness of his grip on your hair. So you double your effort and start to suck him off best you can, but all you can really remember how to do is wiggle and moan-

Dean pulls aways with groan, and your eyes flutter open to see him looking down at you with borderline wonder, his arm braced on the headboard above you and his chest heaving.

“You’re too good at that.” He mutters, moving his hand from your hair to wipe a little bit of drool over your cheek. “Almost came in your mouth, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth again, sticking your tongue out, and he groans, leaning back with a shake of his head.

“Need to fuck you,” he grunts, shifting so your caged below his arms, his brow pressed against yours. “I’m gonna make you cum ‘till you can’t walk, baby. That sound good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, spreading your legs as wide as you can. “Good. Touch me, Dean, I- I need you-“

“I know you do.” Rough, warm fingers dance on your panties, teasing on your inner thigh for a second before ripping them away, and running over your pussy. “So fucking wet for me, babygirl, need it that bad?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes, please-“

Dean cuts you off with a long, sloppy kiss, and you gasp his name into his mouth, grinding onto the palm of his hand in chance of any relief.

“You wanna try and wrestle again?” He hums, rubbing his hand right over your clit. “Or you gonna let me take care of my girl.”

“Take care.” Your voice is barely a breath, but you might fly out of your mind if he doesn’t really, properly fuck you. “Dean, your cock, I need it-“

His hand moves away, but you don’t get a moment to complain before Dean’s shoving himself into you with one rough movement, and your back is arching off the bed.

“That’s right, baby.” His voice is a teasing coo, but you don’t really care. He’s earned it, and it feels so good, being filled up and split open with him all over you and kissing up your neck- “You’re so fuckin’ tight, son of a bitch-“

“Dean.” You gasp, and his mouth crashes back over yours, kissing you into the pillows until you’re limp in his arms, only fluttering desperately around his cock. “Move-“

He groans into your mouth, and your breath hitches in your throat as he slams into you. You wrap your arms around him tight enough to strangle him, just he doesn’t even flinch, just moaning your name and repeating the movement once more. Pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, then starts to fuck you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

Sometimes, Dean likes to sit up and watch you come apart below him, or flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. But he knows what you need right now is to just keep feeling him, everywhere, and he’s perfect so that’s exactly what he gives you. Almost holding you off the mattress like it’s nothing, fucking into your pussy with a feverish pace, until your head is falling back with pleasure as he hits that deep, painfully needy spot deep inside you.

His lips attach to your throat, biting and sucking small marks that make your mouth fall open in a silent scream, and your start to grind onto him. Trying to get your clit to rub on his abdomen, because you’re so fucking close-

Dean grabs your ankles, shifting your around below him without ever breaking pace, and only once you’re securely hanging off his body does his arm wrap around your waist and-

You spasm as his fingers find your clit and start to rub tight, firm circles, and you cum with a scream of his name. He just groans, fucking into you harder as you spasm around his cock, and you’re not coming down. Dean pushes your back down onto the mattress, slams his lips back over yours and angling your hips further up, and you stare up at him as he just keeps fucking you. Your orgasm crests into another one, and there’s a strange, new heat building in your core that’s hot and tight, and-

Dean slams hip hips at the right angle to almost bruise your g-spot, right as his fingers on your clit pinch, and your body goes loose as the coil snaps. Something wet is gushing out of you and running between your legs, and Dean’s jaw is clenched as he drops his brow to yours, his eyes fluttering as he tenses over you.

“Dean.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair. “Please. On me.”

He stares at you for barely a second before giving a tight nod, and sitting up on his knees. He pulls out with his hand braced on your hip, and it’s a beautiful sight. Dean beating his cock into his hand at the sight of you wrecked and fucked out, thick white cum shooting over your stomach and cunt as he cums with a moan of your name.

He collapses over you with a grunt, and you hum happily, your fingers shooting into his hair.

“That what you wanted, baby?” He hums into your ear, and you nod.

“Perfect. Thank you, my love.”

He grunts as your kiss the side of his head, shifting down to bury his face between your breasts.

“Love you too.” He grumbles, wrapping his around your body, and you beam up at the ceiling. “Even when you play dumb tricks.”

“I think you liked that trick.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But next time, just freakin’ ask me to fuck you stupid.”

You hum. “Dean?”

He grunts, and you tug on his hair, forcing his gaze up to yours.

“Can you fuck me stupid.”

His lips twitch and he grabs your hand, turning it to press a kiss to your palm. “Jesus, sweetheart-“

“Please?” You flutter your lashes at him, and he sighs.

“Gimme ten. In the shower?”

You give him an amused look. “You just wanna cum on me again.”

“Yep.” He grins up at you. “You love it.”

“I do.” You mumble. “But you like it when I play dumb tricks.”

He rolls his eyes, but hauls your upright, standing with you cradled in his arms and a kiss to the side of your head. “Yeah, sweetheart. But I think I just like you.”

End Note: It's probably good for my productiveness that Dean isn't real. I'd never get anything done again.

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sixeyesonathiel · 3 days ago

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your tutor of marital propriety!satoru teaches you how to kiss.

a/n: perchance i ever expand this into a full oneshot… who do you all think should be the poor, oblivious betrothed of our princess? they will, of course, be embarrassingly, spectacularly cucked. please choose wisely 🫶🏻

you are stubborn. painfully, deliciously stubborn. that is the first thing satoru realizes the moment you stand before him in the empty antechamber, the silken weight of your skirts set stiff with pride, chin tilted in regal defiance. as though you might ward him off with your sharpened glower, as though you could command him to yield with the simple arch of your brow.

it thrills him. it always has. it coils in his chest, sweet and intoxicating, the memory of you haunting him since that spring banquet so long ago. the stubborn line of your jaw. the proud tilt of your head. the way you walked amongst nobles as if you were already their sovereign, despite the heavy chains of tradition looped around your wrists.

“why must i learn these things from you?”

your voice is taut, every syllable wrapped in distaste, your lips pressed together in a line he has longed to unravel since that day. you were but a young thing then, trailing dutifully behind your father, cloaked in silks and privilege, precious and untouchable—but impossible to ignore. you had not spared him more than a glance, and yet he had seared you into memory: the bold set of your shoulders, the fire in your gaze, the quiet defiance you wore like a crown among a den of wolves.

he had wanted you even then. had wondered how your lips might tremble beneath his teeth. had dreamed of the sounds you would make if cornered just right. had yearned to break past the polished veneer of your courtly manners and drag forth the unguarded version of you. the one who would tremble beneath his hands.

“because, princess,” he answers, letting the honorific drip like sweetened wine, “i am the only one who is qualified.”

he allows his words to linger, stepping closer with the measured gait of a man who knows he will not be refused. your shoulders tense beneath the weight of his stare, and he savors the knowledge that you cannot help but react to him. it curls warm and heady in his chest, a delicious pressure that presses against his ribs, urging him to take more.

“you have lived your life tucked safely within these gilded halls. your intended hails from a distant empire, where the expectations placed upon a wife are foreign to you. i was schooled there. i know their customs. i know the ways of their court.”

his tone is soft, the cadence easy, as if he does not mean to ensnare you. but he does. he has been weaving this web from the moment the king appointed him your instructor, the moment he realized he would have you within his reach, day after day, lesson upon lesson. he smiles, slow and deliberate, as a pale lock of hair slips to graze his cheek, his glacial eyes sinking into yours with practiced precision, carefully adjusted over years of quiet longing.

“unless, of course,” his voice drops, a velvet thread tightening around your ribs, “you would prefer to learn these things from another man?”

his question strikes you cleanly, his satisfaction blooming as he watches the slightest movement of your throat, the smallest quiver in your composure. you loathe him. but beneath that loathing, there is the shimmer of curiosity, the reluctant awareness that what he offers you is necessary. you are no fool. you know what awaits you. and satoru—the silver-haired heir to the northern dukedom, all silk and poison—holds the key.

“fine,” you snap, as though the concession scalds your tongue. “but you will not kiss me as though you mean it.”

his lips curl, slow and amused, as though your stipulation is a game he is eager to play, a rule he has no intention of following.

“of course, your highness. i would never presume.”

it is a lie.

he approaches with deliberate steps, each echoing click of his polished boots measured and slow, the faint trace of his cologne arriving before his touch. you flinch as he raises his hand, but he merely tucks a loose strand behind your ear, the brush of his gloved fingers grazing your temple, lingering far too long, savoring the softness of you beneath his leather.

“relax,” he murmurs, savoring the tremble that dances through you. “it would not do for you to be so tense when your husband-to-be touches you.”

“i would prefer he never touch me at all,” you bite, though your voice falters when his hand settles beneath your chin, his thumb pressing delicately against the stubborn line of your jaw. you try to sound strong, but the frantic pulse beneath your skin betrays you. your pride burns bright, but your body does not yet know how to resist him.

“ah, but he will.”

his gaze dips to your lips, his breath faltering—just once. it is the only fracture in his composure he permits himself. he has envisioned this too many times: the softness of your mouth, the fire in your eyes as you surrender piece by reluctant piece.

“part your lips,” he whispers, his thumb coaxing, circling lazily across the seam of your mouth. “good girl.”

your eyes flash, your pride bristling at the endearment, but you obey. you do not pull away. you tremble, uncertain, your hands fluttering at your sides, unsure of where to land. his chest swells with triumph at your hesitation, the subtle fracture in your resolve.

“this is merely a lesson,” he reminds you, his voice low and reverent, his thumb never leaving your lips. “nothing more.”

it is the sweetest, most exquisite lie he has ever told.

he lowers his head slowly, relishing the soft tremble of your lashes, the way your breath catches when his lips brush yours—a fleeting touch at first, no more than a whisper. his hand slides to the nape of your neck, drawing you firmly into him as he deepens the kiss—greedy, voracious, as though he might consume you whole.

his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, insistent, until you—hesitant, trembling—allow him entry, still clumsy, still learning, but so unbearably eager despite yourself. you taste of sweet spring wine, stubborn pride, and something wholly forbidden. satoru groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that spills from him unchecked, ragged and desperate.

he had meant to teach you restraint. to guide you carefully. but instead he devours you—his lips slanting over yours again and again, his tongue tangling with yours in wet, breathless strokes, his hunger plain and shameless. each sound, slick and obscene, echoes in the chamber, every beat of his heart a thunderous ache beneath his ribs.

his other hand drifts to your waist, his fingers curling into the rich fabric of your gown, anchoring you as though he might leave his mark upon your skin. his teeth catch at your lower lip, drawing a startled gasp that he drinks greedily, desperate for more, desperate to swallow every breath that escapes you.

his hands explore the curve of your waist, the subtle dip of your spine, the quickened pulse that flutters beneath his touch. he grips you harder, more desperately, as though terrified that you might slip through his fingers and vanish. his palms burn against the thin barrier of your gown, his thumb pressing firmer, as though imprinting his touch upon your flesh.

he is drowning in you. intoxicated by the soft, shaky moan that tumbles from your throat when his fingers trail the delicate column of your neck, tangling briefly in your hair before settling possessively at your nape. his breathing is ragged, his lips returning to yours with renewed frenzy, unwilling to part, unwilling to yield, until the burning in his lungs forces him to relent—and even then, he hovers, his mouth brushing yours, his breath mingling with yours as if the mere inches between you are too cruel to bear.

his kiss drags on—a feverish, hungry thing—until the heat beneath your skin leaves you swaying against him, your balance teetering, your hands fisted weakly in the fabric of his coat. he presses forward, guiding you with slow, suffocating steps until your back meets the cool stone wall of the chamber, caging you with his body as though you belong there, as though you were made to fit within the curve of his arms.

his lips leave yours only to trail down the curve of your jaw, pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses to the delicate skin there, his teeth grazing, biting, soothing with the sweep of his tongue as though tasting every inch of you he dares to touch. his breath is hot against your skin, his hands skimming the sides of your bodice, sliding up to your ribs with a bruising grip that makes you shudder and arch involuntarily against him.

he kisses the hollow beneath your ear, his tongue darting out to taste the faint sheen of sweat gathered there, his teeth scraping, dragging a whimper from you that shatters whatever pitiful defense you might have clung to.

“you are learning so quickly,” he breathes, his voice a ragged whisper, a dangerous spark alight in his gaze, the fragile leash on his composure long since abandoned. “perhaps we should practice more often. again. and again.”

“satoru—”

your protest is weak, your breath shattered, your lips swollen and glistening with the evidence of his touch. your hands cling feebly to the front of his coat, suspended between resistance and reluctant longing, the last embers of your defiance flickering beneath the haze he has woven around you. your legs are trembling, your heart stumbling in your chest, uncertain whether to fight him or to follow him.

“shh,” he soothes, pressing another kiss to your trembling mouth, softer now, but still steeped in possession, as though he might claim you with the gentle weight of it. “you need not thank me, princess. your education is my duty, after all.”

when he finally pulls away, a string of saliva clings between your lips and his, glimmering and obscene, refusing to part until he brushes his thumb across your lower lip, smearing the dampness he left behind with slow, reverent strokes, as if to etch the taste of you into his skin.

he drinks in the sight of you—disheveled, flushed, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the storm beneath your proud facade. his hunger sharpens, solidifies, anchoring itself deep within him, feeding a yearning he has long since ceased trying to temper.

his thumb drags once more across your lip, slow, lingering, as if he cannot bear to let even this fleeting touch go. he leans in, pressing a final kiss to your chin, to the corner of your mouth, as though marking you in all the places he has yet to claim.

“we shall continue tomorrow,” he whispers, a promise, a decree, as though you already belong to him. he speaks it like a vow. like a threat.

for he will not let you go. not now. not ever.

#gojo satoru #yandere gojo #gojo smut #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader smut #yandere gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #tw yandere

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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 days ago

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Golden [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds (Sentry) x fem!reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob loves you, but he'd never dare say it. Unfortunately, all these repressed feelings fuel Sentry, who decides to do something once and for all.

masterlist part 2 part 3

The house was silent, broken only by the soft murmur of music coming from the cell phone by the sink. A slow, nostalgic piano floated between the shelves as if trying not to disturb anyone. You were barefoot, already in your pajamas—a faded thigh-length T-shirt and athletic shorts—with your hair tied haphazardly and a wooden spoon in your hand. You were making yourself something simple for dinner, not really hungry, as if it were a requirement your body had to fulfill.

Outside, the night hung heavy on the windows, thick and starless. Even though it was cold, your thick socks helped you bear it.

After a while, you had company in the kitchen. You didn't see the person, of course, but you could strangely feel their presence as if the entire room had been impregnated with that essence. The music continued to play, but it no longer filled the space; now it seemed like a distant echo, unable to compete with the sudden density of the air.

Then you felt it: the faint creak of wood under their weight as they rested an arm on the bar, right next to you. They didn't say anything at first; they just stood there, too close, so motionless that for a second you thought you'd imagined it. The warmth emanating from their body contrasted with the cold outside, and the scent—clean, almost electric—confirmed that you weren't alone.

“Hey,” you heard close to your ear, barely above a whisper.

Their voice made you turn your head immediately. You recognized him instantly, of course you did. It was Bob. His body, his silhouette… but not his posture. He was more upright, as if he weighed less. More relaxed. And he was looking at you. Not shyly, not as if he were waiting for your permission, but as if he already knew he was welcome.

What disconcerted you most was the color of his eyes. They shone a liquid gold, soft but impossible to ignore, as if something very ancient and powerful had peeked out from beneath his skin. The proximity made you notice them immediately.

“Bob...” you said softly, unsure whether to ask or affirm. You still held the spoon tightly. The aroma of dinner still wafted through the air, but everything else had stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“I went out to get a glass of water and found you here. That's all.”

“Your… your hair,” you stammered, barely reaching out to stroke a strand of hair, “what did you do to it?”

It was blonde, but not that horrible fake yellow shade Valentina had dyed it a few months ago. This time, his hair looked like it had been kissed by the sun, a color so golden it resembled one of those cherubs portrayed in old paintings. You could also swear it looked a few inches longer than you remembered.

“Don’t you like it?” he exclaimed. The question didn’t sound uncertain, as it should have, but rather amused. “I think it suits me.”

“Yes, you look… you look great, but why did you do it?”

He didn't respond immediately. His attention shifted to what you were cooking, with an almost unusual interest. He leaned a little closer over the counter, just enough to better observe the contents of the pot without invading your space too much... although you felt the warmth of his proximity extending like an invisible line between the two of you.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, as if the question were more intimate than it should be.

“Nothing, just… something quick for dinner,” you replied, not quite looking at him. You tried hard to sound casual, even though you knew your cheeks had heated a little without permission.

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on your hands as you rummaged. He didn't talk like Bob. He didn't move like Bob. And yet, there he was, standing next to you, wearing those wrinkled plaid pajama pants and a T-shirt you'd seen on him before at the back of his closet; the cover of Radiohead's single, Creep, printed on black. Everything was recognizable, but not familiar.

Suddenly, his hand slowly reached out to take a pinch of what you'd left on the cutting board and brought it to his mouth, still looking at you. He did so with disconcerting ease, as if you always shared these kinds of moments.

“Smells good,” he murmured, and for a second, the way he said it didn’t seem to refer to food.

You looked at him, still trying to understand what part of him that was. Because if that was Bob… why did he make you feel like you were a fixed point in his orbit?

“Does your head hurt?” you asked, still unsure. Your voice sounded different, as if it didn't quite come from you.

"No"

"Are you okay?"

A giggle escaped his lips.

“I am,” he assured you. Prompted by your inquisitive eyes, he added, “Don’t worry. You know me, you’ve seen me before.”

The way he spoke to you made you believe he wasn't your friend you were chatting with. He knew you, yes, but he was behaving very differently than usual. The realization hit you suddenly.

“Sentry?”

The name left your lips like a crack in the air. And although he didn't flinch or look away, you saw that faint flicker of acceptance in his eyes. As if you'd finally said what he'd been waiting for since he'd entered the room.

“I was hoping you’d notice sooner,” he said calmly, though not reproachfully.

He didn't sound proud. He didn't sound embarrassed. Just… confident. A confidence that Bob didn't know existed, but was natural to him.

“You weren’t supposed to come out,” you murmured, barely audible, as if naming the abnormality could reverse it. “Bob still doesn’t know how to control you.”

He shrugged with an almost elegant fluidity.

“I don’t need him to control me,” she replied immediately. “I’m not dangerous. In fact, it turns out I'm everything he wants to be."

You remained silent for a second, watching him intently. You didn't know if it was wise to call someone else, walk away, or try to figure out what had brought him to light.

“Don’t fear me,” he continued, as if he had read the doubt in your eyes. “I would never hurt you.”

“Why are you here?” you mumbled. Your back was to the counter, and he was standing in front of you, watching you. “Is Bob okay?”

“Of course,” he smiled at you. His gaze made you feel nervous. “It’s just… he was daydreaming about you. So I thought I’d intervene.”

You froze. When you finally managed to stammer out a response, you asked him to explain what he was talking about.

“I just want to see you up close. He’s watching you the whole time like he’s afraid of breaking you.”

The phrase—and the way he said it—confused you. Why would he have had to show up to get a close look at you? What did that even mean?

Why did it have to be him and not Bob?

“You’re his constant thought, did you know that?” he murmured calmly. “For better or for worse.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He always worries about you. He wants to be good for you, to improve, to leave behind those weaknesses that torment him. But everything he keeps quiet when he sees you walk by, when you laugh near him, when you touch him… he throws it all at me.”

His voice didn't rise in pitch. It wasn't demanding. It didn't crack. But there was an undercurrent, a weariness so deep it reached your chest.

“And honestly, I feel like it kills me a little more every day.

“I can’t understand you,” you faltered. “Do you mean that he-you are… in love with me?”

A stifled laugh was heard in his throat.

“Obsessed, that's the term I'd give it. But yes, let's say so.”

Sentry didn't look at you like someone expecting a reaction. He didn't seem to be looking for shock value. He was just... saying it. As if saying it out loud would take a weight off his shoulders.

You feared you were delirious. The moment was so sudden and unexpected that it was the only explanation that made sense to you.

“I just thought it was time to let you know,” Sentry continued. “Because he won’t. At least not anytime soon.”

He took a step closer, slow, careful, but not hesitant. His movements were confident, as if he wasn't afraid of rejection, but of breaking something delicate.

His fingers brushed the edge of the bar, right where you'd placed the spoon seconds before. He didn't pick it up. He just rested his fingertips there, as if he needed to anchor himself to something real.

Then he reached out with his other hand toward you, very slowly, and with the backs of his fingers, he barely caressed your cheek. It wasn't an invasive caress. It was… careful. Too careful, as if he feared that you, too, were part of the same fracture he was carrying.

His touch was warm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice lower. More intimate. “You’re sweet. Attentive. I understand why he’s going crazy for you.”

And you wanted to say something, anything. But his presence weighed more than your thoughts. You didn't know if it was the tone or the content of his words, but something inside you tensed.

You didn't back down. You didn't touch him either. But your gaze dropped to his hand, still suspended in the air, as if you'd suddenly realized the moment had crossed an invisible line.

He noticed it. Of course he noticed it.

“But you’re not ready,” he said, without annoyance.

He didn't sound disappointed, or impatient. He said it as a logical conclusion. An observation. He slowly withdrew his hand, but didn't move away. He just looked down, as if the gesture of touching you had been more for him than for you.

You were in shock, trying to understand what was happening and waiting for his next move.

“I’m not asking you for anything,” he added after a moment. “I didn’t even come looking for anything. I just needed you to see me. To know that I exist beyond fear.”

Your throat closed a little, and your voice barely held as you replied:

“I… don’t know what to tell you.”

Sentry nodded, once, without drama. His golden eyes softened slightly, though the glow remained, pulsing, like a subtle warning that this form of him wasn't human. Not quite.

“You don’t need to say anything. Not now.” For a second, he was silent. “Sometimes Bob stares at the door for hours, wondering if you’ll ever show up.”

The phrase disarmed you more than you expected. You knew him. Not in words, but in actions. In the way Bob avoided eye contact when you greeted him. In the way he seemed to go silent when you sat down near him. In the way he always had something in his hands to pretend he was busy.

Sentry still watched you, patient. Almost serene.

“And all this stuff you’re saying… Does he feel it? Don’t you?”

“Both,” he explained softly. “But if you’re wondering who wants you more, then it would be me.”

You swallowed, looking at him with some surprise. You hadn't asked that, but he'd thought it prudent to mention it. He could have told you he cared or sought your closeness, but no. He said he wanted you.

“Is that why you came looking for me?”

Your voice was a whisper, gently caressing his ears. You no longer seemed scared, but curious, and that stirred something else in the God who watched you intently.

Sentry didn't answer immediately. He lowered his gaze for a moment, as if your question was too intimate even for him. And when he came back from his thoughts, his eyes had not lost their golden glow, but his expression had softened.

“I only came because… I couldn’t stay without doing it.”

His fingers closed in a slight gesture, as if he had wanted to touch you again and held back at the last second.

“Do you know what it feels like to carry something inside that doesn’t quite belong to you?” he asked, not looking at you directly. “A memory. A longing. An image repeated over and over again. And you didn’t create it, you didn’t dream it, but you feel it. It pulls you in. It transforms you.”

You looked at him silently, recognizing in his words not only the intensity of his existence, but the fragility behind it. As if he couldn't sustain himself for long away from Bob's shadow.

“You’re in him,” he continued. “In all his days. In every damn attempt to ignore you. In every night he forces himself not to knock on your room. In all those moments when he has to hold back as if your gaze doesn’t completely disarm him.”

The intensity of his voice didn't rise, but it became thicker. More tangible.

“I don't have their filters,” he admitted, “nor their fears. And if I'm here, it's because Bob wanted it so badly… that I didn't know how to stay silent anymore.”

It wasn't a confession, not quite. It was more like an inevitable outburst. And he was still there, so close, it was hard to think.

“I don’t know if this is real… or if I’m just feeling what you need me to feel.”

“It's very real”

His silence wasn't empty. It was the suppressed sound of something that wanted to explode but didn't dare. The gold in his eyes flickered like a flame about to go out... or burn out completely.

You felt it. Not for what he did, but for what he didn't do.

The way his eyes dropped to your mouth a second longer than necessary. The slight tremble in his breath as he stared at you without blinking. The way his body tilted, barely perceptible, as if the space between you was an obstacle eating him away from the inside.

He didn't touch you. He didn't say anything. But the desire was there, suspended between you both, as clear as the heat between two bodies that aren't touching.

And you, for the first time, didn't back down.

Your lips parted, not in invitation, but in surprise. There was something reverent about him. As if he were approaching you not as a man, not even as a god, but as an echo. Like someone who had been sensing you for too long in another skin, in another mind, in another contained love.

He knew it then. What he saw in your eyes. Not fear, not rejection. Just the certainty that if he did it, something would change forever. In you. In Bob.

Sentry didn't move anymore.

His lips curved into a small, sad smile. One of those that doesn't seek comfort, but acceptance.

“Now that you know… Will you wait for him? Until he’s ready?”

You nodded, out of inertia. The proximity made you feel dizzy, as if his energy were consuming you entirely, and the only thing left in you was that desire for him to finish what he started.

His beauty was nothing like Bob's. He was shy, discreet, cautious in his gestures. Sentry forced you to look at him. Not by imposition, but by nature. Because you couldn't help it. There was something about him that overwhelmed your senses, something that seemed made of light and gravity, and all of it pushed you to the edge of something you couldn't name.

There was no touch. No unnecessary words. Just that suspended instant in which your whole body understood that he could have touched you, and you would have allowed it. Not because he demanded it, but because there was something in you that had already given in without you realizing it.

You didn't know if it was the way he looked at you or how he seemed to be contained within himself, as if the universe were splitting open in his chest, but for a moment you stopped thinking.

You contemplated him as one contemplates something sacred. Not as one desires, but as one recognizes.

And that's where you truly felt it: divinity in its purest form. Not that of miracles or light, but that of the abyss. Of contained fire.

“I’ll go,” he exhaled. He allowed himself to caress your face one last time. “I don’t want Bob to lose his temper. I just… wanted you to know how much you mean. To both of us.”

He took a step back, and you instantly missed his warmth. You found a certain acceptance in his eyes, as if he knew his time had come to an end. It felt as if that version of himself couldn't last much longer in your presence without fading away.

“Can I ask you something?”

"Yeah?"

“Don’t hate him if he doesn’t remember tomorrow,” he said softly. You knew he was referring to Bob. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it. It’s that he can’t handle it.”

And with that last truth, he left.

There were no lights, no sounds. Only the faint emptiness left behind by an intense presence as it retreats. And you, standing in the kitchen, dinner cooling on the stove and your heart beating too close to your throat, realized that something inside you had just changed, too.

You didn't know if everything would be back to normal the next day.

But you knew, with absolute certainty, that you hadn't imagined it.

Although a part of you—the most rational, the most scared—would like to believe that it had all been a dream, a delusion, a fantasy brought on by tiredness or your own badly buried feelings.

Because in the end… was it Sentry who came to you?

Or Bob, in a form that even he doesn't understand?

You didn't know. And you probably never would. But the echo of his voice, the warmth of his presence, the weight of that gaze... that was real.

You couldn't tell anyone. Not because they wouldn't believe you, but because there was no way to explain it without breaking them, without exposing them to criticism. And because, at the same time, you were afraid it might break you a little too.

It had to become a secret. There was no other alternative.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

#bob reynolds #sentry #the void #bob reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #bob reynolds fanfic #thunderbolts fanfic #bob reynolds x you #thunderbolts #the new avengers #the new avengerz #lewis pullman #thunderbolts fluff #bob reynolds fluff #sentry fluff #robert reynolds #robert “bob” reynolds

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 day ago

Text

New Purpose | Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

“You want me to do what?!”

The call from your awkward and friendly acquaintance in the idol-managing business leaves you in an unreadable ball of confusion. Typically when Bobby did call you it was to brag about his girls or about the latest resort he was gifted by the girls. But this time he needed your help and you weren’t sure if you were going to give it.

“Please please (Y/n)! You taught me everything I know; if there’s anyone who can handle them it’s you.”

Bobby pleading on his knees doesn’t change your reluctance but the pleading gazes of the boy-band in question made you slow to voice it. It also was harder to refuse when you could see the shining blue shackles on each of their wrists. A marked hand slides onto your shoulder with a stealth you haven’t felt in a long time and instinctively you reach for the holster under your coat, locking eyes with the one you once deemed to be an enemy.

“It can only be you. Mx. (L/n).”

It’s the purple-haired idol who not only was rumored to have once endangered the Honmoon but mended it with strength that surpassed her ancestors. Here she was glowing with her shining demon marks in broad daylight. A part of you still found it wrong.

She took your blatant staring in stride; sending Bobby out of the room,”Mind giving us some space? I think it might land better y’know? Idol to idol?”

“Oh, sure thing Rumi! In fact, I’ll go get the celebratory ramyeun now!”

He dashed as if his life depended on it, leaving you and Rumi with the shackled demon idols. Looking warily at the hunter you slowly pulled your hand away from your holster. The fakely wide smile on her fades into something more concerning. Pressing her purple-painted lips together, it’s time to address the real elephant in the room.

“Why are they still here?! I thought you killed them all when you made the Honmoon golden.”

She nervously smiles, “I–thought I did too. But it seems that they were sealed in the upper world instead. The only one who….didn’t make it was thanks to Gwi-Ma.” She steps away from you, putting her hand out as if to pet the “baby Saja boy.” Previously he looked as though he was dead; standing with a face that epitomized boredom. That all changed when Rumi came close. His eyes glowed that sinister yellow and his fangs were bared as he chomped at the air her hand used to be. The blue chains clink with golden chains that shine in a ripple like the Honmoon itself.

“You must mean the leader. Jin.”

You were playing with fire. For all the shipping edits that the idol leaders were put through, anyone could’ve guessed that they were close. While you don’t have eyes and ears close to her domain, it still got back to you just how close she’d gotten with him. During Huntrix's report of the event, Jin’s returned soul was what gave the trio the power to completely exorcise Gwi-Ma. A feat that was impossible even for the first hunters to exist.

“Yes…Jin,” she spoke his name with a heavy resonance. A respect that hadn’t dulled at all because it still felt raw.

”He saved me by showing me how to accept this part of myself rather than hide.”

She held her hands in front of her playing with the light against her marks, “Still he’s showing me there’s more to this side of myself I never really understood before.”

You watched her close her hands into fists and turn to you with a fierceness in those brown eyes you’ve never seen in person,” Which is why I think we should try helping them before we kill them.”

Stopping your laughter you finally spoke, “We?”

“We. Huntrix can’t do this on our own. You’ve been handling the otherside of the hemisphere well and now that both sides are sealed all that’s left is to care for the demons that slipped through.”

“Then why not just kill them?” The one with abs tries to jab at her which she skillfully dodges,” They clearly aren’t fond of you.”

Pausing she looks at them and then at you.

“I have to try…if Jin saw something worth using maybe…maybe there's more to them that I haven’t seen yet. That no one’s seen. I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I’m retired. I don’t think I can do much of anything now.”

Rumi gives you a look. That glare of determination that makes you feel exposed.

“I’ve heard you before. You can do this.”

You turn, prepared to refuse but she grabs your hands.

“Please (Y/n).To protect our reign of peace….please.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, Saja boys. Listen up you live and breathe to be the idol group I demand you be, you hear me?!”

The collective groans of the demon boy band, the sound makes you smirk. In an instant, you begin to hum an old song you used to sing unsheathing your whip from its holster. Romance is the one who perks up, the only one who seems to catch on that you are about to obliterate them.

“AcK!”

“OW that burns!”

“Please don’t!”

“Okay okay, we’re all listening p-please contine.”

It’s over in seconds. Everything but their faces is covered in disgusting blue welts.

“As I was saying. I expect my perfect idol boy band to be smiley, friendly, and to say 'yes (Y/n)' whenever I ask you questions. Is that clear?”

“Yes (Y/n)!”

“That’s good now have a good show just like we practiced!”

It’s been interesting taking on the Saja boys. Their image that had Jin be their cool and calm collected leader was very much the truth. Without you breathing down their necks you found they were quite awful to all around them.

“Abby did you or did you not hit that PA with a button of yours, on purpose?”

“I mean they were looking too hard anyway it’s not my fault.”

“It is your fault that they went to the hospital thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

“It’s whatever they got a souvenir they’ll never forget!”

CRACK!

“Not the whip please, I’ll make a public apology! Sorry!”

You’ve dealt with idols that had a kamidere complex or outright narcissism but you haven’t dealt with literal demons who barely grasped that humanity was anything more than a population of overgrown bugs.

“Alright, Bae Bee what’s going to be the right response if someone asks how you feel about the subject of turtles?”

“Goo Goo Gaga?”

“No. Try using real words please.”

“It’s…whatever?”

“I did that whole slide show and you didn’t gather anything from that?!”

“....”

FWHIP!

“Their…mid?!”

CRACK!

“Wahhh!”

But you wouldn’t continue with this farce if you didn’t realize there was a learning curve to be had. The first time it dawned on you was when Romance came to you in the dead of night, clutching the book you’d gifted them your second day: How to be a Human for Dummies. You were lounging on the large couch watching your shows when he walked in. He stood awkwardly by the door like a child who’d come to woefully inform his parents he’d wet the bed. You pretended not to know he was there; gauging if he’d actually ask for help like you offered.

“Why should we try?”

You muted the TV. Giving the pink-haired demon your full attention, you turned as he stood at the opposite end of the couch.

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

His nails dug into the paper cover,” no I mean why do we have to…I’ve already tried doing that before. I don’t want to go through that again.”

His marks flashed and you couldn’t see his face clearly; his hair making a curtain you so desperately wanted to peek past.

Sighing you stood, “Follow me.”

Doing as he was told he followed you over rooftops, skillfully swinging through the concrete jungle to end it bumping into your back. He opened his mouth to insult you, to whine about how you couldn’t just answer the question to following your gaze. Down below in a window that flashed with all matter of colors, was a girl surrounded by friends singing terribly into the microphone as they cheered her on.

“You see her” The girl with the red bow in her hair?”

“...yeah.”

“She used to wonder that too. She used to walk home every day from school to her room. Locking herself away because she once listened to the same voices you do. Frankly, if she had continued listening she would have ended up just like you.”

“Then why isn’t she…like me that is?”

“Because she kept trying. Worked hard to find those she could care about; though it was hard she found them. Only because she tried.”

“So what?! I try and everything will be fixed?”

“I didn’t say that but no matter what you’ve done. Trying to make amends. Trying to be better is what makes it, you, worth it in the end.”

“Even if it took 300 years?”

“Even if it took 300 years.”

They certainly had their moments and that was enough to not exorcise them when their third month existing in the idol world rolled around. Much to your displeasure, you had no choice but to inform Rumi you’d continue to manage the Saja boys. If only to help them reconcile with themselves. To instead use their talent and influence to strengthen the Honmoon and continue to keep the positive energy that the fans permeated alive and well.

If you worked hard, you could save the remaining Saja boys.

____________________________________________________________

“I hate this.”

Mystery was the first to voice this opinion. Finally left alone and unsupervised the Saja Boys were able to speak without the threat of being whipped, stabbed, or otherwise ground into a pulp on the shining golden Honmoon. Backstage just before another performance.

“Yeah, this just such a bummer. It was more fun when we worked for Gwi Ma!” Abs spoke leaning against the walls of the hidden stage.

“Was it actually fun or were we just happy not to be reminded of who we are?”

Romance turned still maintaining the front position of the band just as they’d been instructed, looking into the golden eyes of his fellow demons. Looking for the same confusion he’d been saddled with since they started this.

“I don’t really care, I just don’t like feeling…like this.”

“Like what, Myst?! What exactly do you feel?”

Abandoning his position, he closed in. Holding the quiet demon by the neck and slamming him into the wall. The infrastructure of the stage shook and dented but Romance was careful. He wasn’t certain why he cared so much to know his answer. He’d been asking the same thing of himself for all this time.

Mystery pursed his quivering lips. Romance growled and threw the demon to the ground, rolling into Abs’ feet. The muscular demon deflated when Romance turned to him expecting an answer, his eyes darting around as if the moving walls would have it scrawled somewhere.

The lack of response only made the pink-haired demon angrier. Fangs beared and marks on full display he charged narrowly scratching at Abs’ face. Mystery got up to intervene, fully prepared to bite the neck of the completely wild Romance. Until his voice broke the silence.

“Purposeless. That is what we are feeling.”

His real voice was much deeper than his human one which is why when the late Jin led the group he was specially instructed to keep it hidden. But they had no leader. They have no Gwi-Ma. All they have in this hidden stage is each other.

Romance retracts his claws, the marks still glowing bright, and he pulls at his locks.

“He’s right. W-we have nothing anymore! All we have is ourselves and that’s worse than nothing. W-w-we can’t even go back!”

His shaky declaration makes everyone unsettled. Placing a name to their fear—to their reality made it far too true. Their marks all begin to glow with an anxious throbbing. Mystery retreats into himself huddling into the corner. Abs freezes, willing his body to move and failing miserably. Even Baby lets the cap he’s wearing cover his face as he slowly slides to the floor.

“What’s the use of trying to change if I don’t even know why I’m here?! You’ve seen these humans!? They don’t know so what am I supposed to do?!”

The Honmoon throbs at his cry.

“How can I try when I don’t want to face who I am?!”

Demon marks flaring in tandem with the flickering gold.

“What good can come from someone as far gone as I?!”

The Honmoon dangerously touches the color pink.

“What am I supposed to do with myself!? Without any voice what am I supposed to do!?”

Multiple tears of the barrier are forming and joining at the seams around each of the separate Saja boys. Each one is influenced by their pain and about to damage the sanctity of the Honmoon.

~kzzt~

Like a heaven-sent. The comms in their ears buzzed to life.

~kzz~He~kzztz~

The pink fades and the healing blue returns to the barrier.

~kz~Hey can you guys hear me in this thing? It’s me (Y/n).kzztz~

It’s your voice. Their guardian. Their manager.

“As expected these walkies are crap. Anyway, I expect you boys to give me your best because I know you can do it. Can you do that for me Saja?”

The voice in their ears answered the only remaining questions.

“Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now wow that crowd and no soul stealing.”

The silence of the stage was lighter. More defined. The long turned-off comms burned into their ears. All of them replaying the echo of their manager’s voice—soothing, uplifting, commanding.

“It is them. That will be our purpose.”

Baby’s voice spoken with clarity confirmed what they all decided. As the stage begins to rise and the cheers of their fans increase even more. The Saja Boys are in position, prepared to perform just as their manager demands it.

______________________________________________________________

“So how’s it gone, managing them?”

All of Huntrix was over for the day, enjoying some bubble tea as they looked at the golden-covered city. The barrier glowed strong with a healthy pulse fully powered by their fans.

You were glad that you’d convinced the boys to attend their shoot solo. Otherwise, you would’ve risked having this conversation with them around. Which wouldn’t have been a good idea considering how close they’ve gotten.

“It’s going great. They haven’t had another incident since I last called.”

The girls shared a look.

Mira sneered at the promotional material for the group scattered on the table, picking it up like it was dirty laundry.

“By great do you mean, like the Honmoons not broken great or that there's an uptick in murders in the last month—all where you guys were going on tour–great?”

Zoey chuckled anxiously, “We don’t want to accuse but the numbers don’t look great.”

Shooting a look at Rumi, you settled in your chair. Looking out at the city below carefully putting pressure on the plastic cup in your hands.

“Look I wish I could definitively say it’s just a coincidence but I looked into those cases myself and most of them seem airtight. But I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t some demonic influence.” Zoey and Mira shared a look before turning back to you with a grimace.

“I’m saying there’s just no way to tell for sure if it was them and without evidence I can't exactly ‘convict’ anyone.”

“So you're saying there’s no way not one of those boys slipped through your grasp?”

“Yeah (Y/n)...we know you’re technically retired and there’s five demons and one of you…it can’t be easy.”

Rumi finally looked ready to speak and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it.

“We were thinking maybe you should take a break!” She didn’t look entirely convinced, looking between Mira and Zoey. “We’re going on a break for a little while so maybe we can look after them for you.”

“I’d love that,” you studied their faces for some kind of joke,” but I don’t know if you can handle the boys any more than I could.”

The girls confidently laughed.

“Are you kidding?”

“We nearly killed them the last time we met!”

“Yes, Huntrix has got this in the bag!”

The girls cheered with pride as they whooped and hollered at one another. You admired their spunk, something you felt came far too less now that you’ve outgrown the group you used to hunt with.

“Alright then girls, I’ll take you up on your offer–”

“Yes!” “The-Best-B-ab-y Sitters in the wooorldd!” “Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!”

“---a word of caution girls.”

Your words had them stopping in their tracks, their triumphant smiles only softening to acknowledge you. The only one it completely faded from was Rumi, who almost looked afraid to see you step on the elevator.

“The Saja Boys are a lot more determined than you’d think. Try not to be an obstacle for them.”

With that, the metal doors slid closed, and for once in a long time you were alone. Now came the hard part—telling them.

______________________________________________________________

“You have got to be kidding me!?”

It was Bae Bee taking his usual spot at your back, his fanged sneer hissing into the side of your head he was previously nuzzling against. His nails had gotten longer penetrating the T-shirt you were wearing, a single flick to his wrist had him retract his claws but not loosen his grip.

Speaking of claws you could feel the demon on your lap allowing his to emerge and grip at your jeans all the tighter. The practiced action of oncoming tears soaking through the denim told you, Mystery was having a similar reaction. Across the room were Romance and Abby both dressed in their custom robes were drying with their respective blow dryers after using the dressing room’s shower. Both appliances were crushed and melted onto the floor within seconds of your announcement. The demons-responsible, flashing their marks and fangs at you. Romance immediately straightens up, adjusting his hair and robe before glaring down at you.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“YEAH A PROMISE! WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK THOSE.”

Abby was worse for wear marks and teeth on full display; you mentally noted to pay the venue for the damage he’d cause. Already a partition was torn through, a wall successfully punched into, and a microwave was effectively torn apart. If you didn’t ease his worries the staff would be next.

“I’m not leaving you guys. The deal was that if you all made an effort to change, I’d never leave.”

“Which is what you’re trying to do,” Mystery muffled protests had everyone nodding.

Romance stepped forward again, arms crossed and amber eyes glowing deviously down at you.

“Then that would mean our deal is off!”

“No, it’s not! We never said anything about time off or leaving and coming back.”

“Didn’t have to,” Bae whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face, ” You are the one who agreed.”

It’s then you feel the need to reach for your whip, reaching for your beloved weapon underneath your coat. Searching for your saving grace next to your waist you only to find its empty holster. Looking over to Abby who’s suddenly stopped his violent tirade to pull at the much sought after weapon.

“Then if you go that means we don’t have to abide by the rules anymore.” He looks at you like a puppy, one who’s done something awful and hopes you understand. The boisterous Abby was no longer there, a serious look on his face.

You want to soothe him. To deny it. But the truth of the matter was just that, you had to leave and at this point,t it wouldn’t do you any good to demand they accept otherwise. Your whip across the room, your body held in place by a smirking demon, your legs held down by another, and your attention on the one you were sure had made the most progress.

“We have changed if it helps. We’ve upheld our end of the deal. For you to go against us now…well we’ll just try to preserve our purpose.”

By now you were in no place to make demands.

“So go enjoy your…trip. We’ll be waiting and by then we’ll have changed some more just as you commanded.”

No trip to the Maldives would erase those words from your head.

______________________________________________________________

When you return from any kind of holiday there’s a moment of great depression. A crushing sense of reality from the joy you experienced comes in full force as you unpack and reenter your tiresome schedule. In your case it was no different, for two whole weeks you could ignore the haunting reactions of the demons you guarded to lounge with a poolside cocktail in hand. Of course, your return would be tumultuous.

In the darkness of the condo you’d begun to call home, was Rumi. Sat crossed-legged in the mess of sliced furniture, just as worse for wear as the decor around her. You called to her, almost unsure it was she until she looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her marks an ugly black and the typically brown and golden eyes were red.

“I…didn’t think anything would change,” she finally spoke carelessly musing as you tried to nurse her wounds, “that I would still be strong enough to beat them…I just wasn’t ready for them to…change like I did.”

You want to question her. To ask what she meant but the four pairs of golden eyes smiling back at you explained more than anything she could have said.

“A deal’s a deal.”

Out of the darkness limp bodies clattered to the floor. Battered and bruised it was Zoey and Mira. Unconscious and scarily still you watched Rumi struggle to carry them both, limping to the elevator. She spared you a single glance; eyes filled with too many apologies to ever speak.

“I…can’t be an obstacle to you anymore. Goodbye (Y/n).”

With the broken jingle of the elevator, you were left with your boys once again. Gripping the handle of your whip, you wait for them to reveal themselves to you…fully. Without a word, they emerge in their original forms circling around you with smiles on their marked and purple faces.

“So what are we doing now that I’ve returned?”

Their distorted chuckles don’t settle your unease.

“You said you changed do you plan to show me?”

“Of course, (Y/n).” Abby’s voice was the loudest and when you turned prepared to strike, your arm was held in place by the demon.

“Whatever you demand of us.”

You dropped the whip catching it with your opposite hand, rearing to strike again only for your other hand to be caught and pried open. Your whip forcefully fell into the hands of Bae who smiles cruelly as he snaps your beautiful weapon in half with a ripple of magenta smoke. Of course, you struggle but the hands holding you in place are firm, warping your struggles so that you fall to your knees. Your chin is being held so gently by the new lead of the Saja Boys.

“We are always at your command, (Y/n). Because you are our purpose.”

You open your mouth to speak, to finally give a proper command since they demand it of you. Only for your lips to be covered in Dutch tape, which is played with as Romance comes even closer. The dark blue blush on his face shows just how much he relishes the glare you have for him.

“Since you broke your deal with us, we are free to change. To finally be free to serve our purpose however we see fit.”

It’s then you feel something monstrous intertwine itself with the barrier of the Honmoon pink and orange demon hands replacing the idol demons’ hands. Allowing them to look down on you as well all of them casually caressing your sealed lips.

“You right (Y/n), we have changed.”

There were hands in your hair.

“We’ve grown stronger and it’s all because you gave us a chance. Because you taught us to care.”

There were hands on your back.

“Encouraged us to try.”

Somehow they were in your brain.

“Even if it takes 300 years.”

You sleep in the arms of the Saja Boys—Your boys because you’re all they work for. All they try for. All they’d think to change for.

You are their purpose and they’ll do anything you they demand.

Totally forgot some of these guys died on screen Whoopsie! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

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pixeljade · 2 days ago

Text

I mean, I think this is something where the answer is nuanced

My whole family is educators, at every level. My mom, in particular, always put a strong accent on education. And so, I absolutely did pay attention...and yeah, a lot of people who simply didnt pay attention are claiming they werent told.

However

I know for a fact, in public schools, most of the curriculum is pre-built according to standardized testing, especially these days. As such, the teachers quite often...dont teach more than that. And standardized testing absolutely has a bias, especially in red states! Heck, I heard my mom rant about things they were SPECIFICALLY told not to teach! That shit DOES happen!!!

And even being a good(-ish) student, and being told lots of extra stuff by my mom growing up, I can name several things I wasnt taught growing up. The bombing of black wall street. Red-lining. Basically any history which wasnt focused on western society.

Now, one COULD argue that with the internet today, all that info is available, and so its on the individual for not knowing. But that argument simply doesnt hold up...by that logic, every person alive SHOULD know literally every single thing ever. I mean, ALL the knowledge is out there, right! Its all buried in this massive archive, and you don't even know what to look for, but, it's OUT THERE! SOMEWHERE!!!

Obviously there ARE some people who are just ignorant and looking for a scapegoat, but there's also plenty wrong with the current system. I'm not gonna let us all act like the American Public School System is perfect when its been NOTORIOUSLY BAD for literally my entire life! And every step (such as NCLB) just made things worse.

And even with teachers teaching, as ANY educator worth their salt will say, quite often the students who dont absorb the knowledge fail to learn because they have external factors at play. A kid's not going to be paying perfect attention at school if their parents regularly beat them, or if their family cant afford food. Putting this entirely on people just being stupid is ridiculous, unrealistic, and has extreme tones of classism, racism, ableism...basically every ism on earth.

So yeah. We can admit that there's some people hiding behind this bullshit, while also admitting its not as simple as "just pay attention in school!"

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izzih22 · 1 day ago

Note

u should write a fic abt a post practice/ post game pazzi facetime call

Yours No Matter the Distance

Note: I promised yall I would post today so here you go. Also this is not based off a real game or anything just an fyi

Azzi Fudd had the Wings game pulled up on her laptop the second tip-off happened.

It didn’t matter that she had training at eight the next morning. Didn’t matter that she had weights, film, and a whole to-do list of team responsibilities. It didn’t even matter that Paige had told her not to stress about it, to “get sleep, baby,” and “catch the highlights in the morning.”

Azzi wasn’t missing a second.

Not of Paige.

Not of her girl.

Not for the world.

She sat cross-legged in bed, oversized UConn hoodie on Paige’s, obviously and her phone on Do Not Disturb as she watched #5 lead Dallas with a kind of control and intensity that gave Azzi goosebumps. There were flashes of that same old swagger, that glimmer Paige always got when she locked in. Her jumper was clean, her dimes even cleaner. Azzi swore she could watch her play for hours and never get tired of it.

Even the commentators were gushing, talking about her vision, her IQ, how the Wings were starting to feel like Paige’s team.

Azzi just smiled and whispered under her breath, “Damn right it is.”

By the time the game ended, Dallas had won by twelve. Paige had finished with 17 points, 9 assists, and a couple of defensive stops that had Azzi actually yelling at her laptop like she was courtside. And now, with the post-game interview wrapped up, Azzi was waiting, phone in hand, the FaceTime already set to Paige’s name.

It rang once.

Twice.

And then—

The screen lit up with a familiar face, damp hair slicked back under a towel, cheeks flushed from the game.

“Hey you,” Paige said, voice a little hoarse but still teasing, that grin pulling wide as soon as she saw Azzi.

Azzi melted. “Hi. You look hot.”

Paige raised a brow and tugged at the towel draped over her neck. ��I’m literally sweating through my shirt right now.”

“Exactly.” Azzi leaned her cheek into her palm and gave her a soft smile. “You were so good tonight, P. Like—really good. I’m so proud of you.”

Paige’s expression softened, her shoulders sagging slightly like the weight of the game had finally let go. “Thanks baby. Felt like I finally found my rhythm tonight. Took me long enough.”

“You’ve been so good, though. The stats are crazy. But more than that? The way you lead out there?” Azzi shook her head in awe. “It’s like you were born for this.”

Paige snorted, but it came out shy, like she couldn’t quite take the compliment. “Coming from you? That means everything.”

“Damn right it should.”

They shared a smile, the kind that lingered, the kind that said I miss you even if neither of them had said it yet.

Paige broke the silence first, shifting the phone to show more of the locker room behind her. “I’ve got like twenty minutes before they kick me out. I should shower but…I kinda just wanted to see your face first.”

Azzi curled tighter into the hoodie, which still smelled like Paige even after a few washes. “I was waiting the second the buzzer went off. Had my phone in my hand like a clingy girlfriend.”

“You are a clingy girlfriend.” Paige grinned wider. “Thank God.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughed. “Like you’re not the one who texts me every two hours on game day for good luck.”

“That’s…different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you. Duh.”

Azzi buried her face in her hands, giggling like she was sixteen again and falling for Paige for the first time. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst.”

They paused again, both smiling too hard to speak. Paige leaned back in her chair, towel still hanging around her neck, and gave Azzi a look so full of love it almost hurt.

“Wish you were here,” she murmured, quieter now. “It’s not the same when you’re not on the bench or waiting for me in the tunnel.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. “I know. I wish I was, too.”

“I swear, every time I make a big play, I look over like I’m gonna see you there. And then I remember…” Paige trailed off with a shrug.

“Paige…”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard. I miss you.”

Azzi blinked hard. “I miss you more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady. “I watched the whole game in your hoodie. Had it on the second I got home.”

Paige smiled so wide it nearly broke her. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

“You deserve it.”

They both laughed softly, and for a moment, the distance didn’t feel so heavy.

Paige tilted her head. “You doing okay, though? Like, really okay?”

Azzi hesitated, then nodded. “I am. It just…sucks, not being there. I wanna be the one running into your arms after games, not sitting here on my bed pretending like FaceTime is enough.”

“It’s not enough,” Paige agreed. “But it’s something. And you’re still the last person I see before I fall asleep. Even if it’s through a screen.”

Azzi smiled again, sad and full all at once. “You know I watch every game, right? Every single one.”

“I know.” Paige’s voice got quieter. “It means everything.”

“I mean, I’d watch you do anything. Basketball just happens to be the sexiest option.”

Paige choked on a laugh. “Oh my god, Azzi.”

“What? You want me to lie?”

“You’re unreal.”

Azzi smirked. “And you’re lucky.”

“So lucky.”

They sat like that for a while Paige in the dim locker room, Azzi curled up in bed, their connection as strong as ever despite the miles between them.

Eventually, Paige let out a sigh. “Okay. I gotta shower. They’re giving me the side-eye already.”

Azzi pouted. “Fine. But FaceTime me again before bed?”

“You already know.” Paige looked right into the camera. “Love you, Az.”

Azzi felt her whole chest swell. “Love you more, P.”

“Not possible.”

“Wanna bet?”

Paige laughed, that raspy, tired sound that still somehow made Azzi’s heart skip. “I’ll call you in twenty, babe.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

They hung up.

Azzi leaned back in bed, still in Paige’s hoodie, screen dark, heart full. It wasn’t the same as being there in person. But it was theirs. And that was enough for now.

Because no matter how far apart they were, Azzi knew one thing for sure:

Paige was hers.

And she’d be watching every game until they were in the same place again.

Side by side. Where they belonged.

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd

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edensrose · 3 days ago

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꒰ ݁˖ꫂ᭪ ꒱ 𓂃 HOW CAN YOU NOT WANT ME ?

˚₊‧꒰ა yandere.ᐟ satoru gojo ﾉ f reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ when the strongest falls for you but can't have you, how does he react? he gets everything he wants in life, how aren't you in his hands yet? ꒰ ᡣ𐭩 ꒱ blackmail ˖ reader is dating suguru ˖ obsessive behaviour ˖ forced kissing ˖ 1.0k

sweetheart host ᝰ.ᐟ✧ honestly this is one of my favourite verses omg, should i make this a series?

Satoru Gojo always got what he wanted. Why wouldn’t he? He’s the strongest. Heir and leader to the Gojo clan. Blessed with charm and striking good looks. If he wanted it, it was his. That’s how it’s been his entire life. Well, apart from one thing.

You.

Oh what a darling you were. The first time you stepped into Jujutsu High he felt a rush even limitless couldn’t compare to. To hell with Infinity – your eyes held the universe. The brush of your hand on his when reaching for a pen sparked the cosmos. Your smile, oh your smile. The way you spoke to him? Said his name? How cute you were, struggling to rise in rank.

Weak and pretty? You’re the whole package. He wanted you more than anything he’d ever set eyes on.

Shouldn’t have been a problem, right? Women and men flock around him like lovesick fools. What would make you any different? The way you looked at him with those pretty eyes. Affection. It can only be affection. And yet,

Those Hearts in your eyes are never for him.

They’re for Suguru.

The one thing he’s wanted more than anything – snatched away by his best friend! He didn’t even stand a chance. He only realised that the day he confessed to you. And you . . . Had the nerve to reject him. Him. Do you have any idea who he is?

Why the hell did you turn your face and fluster about your heart belonging to Suguru? How could you choose him over his best friend? He so much as looked at something and it was his; and yet you – you never so much as looked at him once Suguru yanked you into a relationship.

Yes. Yanked. Plucked even. You’re not Suguru’s. You are his simply because he wanted you . . . He just needed you to realise that.

He played his cards. Surely, you would fall for him. See that Suguru is no match compared to him. But you didn’t. You continued this pointless charade up until graduation. Hand still tight in the man’s you claim to love. Nonsense. You didn’t know any better. You didn’t know what Satoru could do for you – a bumbling grade 3 Sorcerer struggling to make ends meet. You could be something great with him at your side.

He just needed to make you realise.

A push in the right direction. Which is where you find yourself now. Facing him: The right direction. Hands stuffed in his pockets lazily as if he didn’t just confess to you a second time around.

Your awkwardness brims so clearly as you stutter and Blabber on about how you were serious last time.

How you only view him as a friend.

How you’re with Suguru.

Stubborn one, aren’t you? All that awkwardness faded to anxiety when the man you knew as friend cornered you against one of the desks. It’s only now you are met with the full prowess of his height. How easily he dwarfs you. Invades your personal space with two large hands clamped on the edge of the desk your back leans into.

“Do you have any idea what I could do for you?”

His signature grin is but a ghost. A dry, dull look hangs on his features. With a white brow arched and bright blue eyes akin to ice. He doesn’t even tilt his head. Irises stare down in a shadow over his dark specs. A testament.

Frost. Like his index knuckle that brushes on your cheekbone. So tender. Gentle. Unlike a hollowed voice that speaks of horrors right above you.

“Do you have any idea what I could do if you reject me again today?” A single knuckle becomes his large hand. Cupped at your cheek and tilting your head up further to meet his now looming face. “You see, I’m a special guy, sweetheart, we both know that. Don’t we?”

His thumb strokes on your face. At last, a little grin returns. It’s the furthest thing from familiar. “I could give you everything. Make you. Or -”

Satoru’s lips ghost yours. The grip slips below your jaw. Voice lowered to a cold whisper.

“Ruin you.”

Perhaps he should have expected the impact that came for him. The bloom of red over his pale cheek as you shoved him and took your chance to Scitter away.

Your touch.

He didn’t bother turning on his Infinity around you. Why should he? You’re too weak, too pretty to do any real damage to him. And besides.

Even the sting of your palm on his face was heavenly. You hit him, and it felt like a kiss.

He couldn’t help but feel irritated. His sweet, stubborn girl. No matter. He’s given you the warning. You’ve tied his hands. This is your fault.

Your fault that the letter in your trembled hands writes clear in bold, black ink that: upon thorough thought and observation, we regret to inform you of your drop in position, to Grade 4.

It’s your fault that you’ll have to go crawling back to him. In tears and stutters. So full of questions, horror.

‘Why would you do this to me Satoru?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I have a family! A sick father. Please.’

He’d only catch your quivered hands. Smile so sweetly as you beg and plead for his help. You’ll do anything. Anything.

“Anything, sweetheart?”

His face looms closer. Just like it did last week. Lips ghosting yours. Strong hands on your waist. Soft whispers to hush your whimpers. “Then . . .” What a devilish croon. Lilted and low. What cruel eyes. Soon to be the only ones you’ll know.

“How about a kiss? From my pretty girl.”

What other choice do you have, but to shakily press your lips to his. Yelp when he shoves you back into the wall and pours more heat into it. More control. Trap you against him and take the breath from your lungs. He’s wanted this since highschool – he sure as hell isn’t going to settle for a peck.

Satoru is a greedy man. If he wants it, it’s his. You simply fall into that category. And now he finally has you to himself. With just a bit of blackmail and tears. You’re his.

And as your heart wails and you scramble with hands in his hair. His lips on yours. Begging for breath. For anything but the suffocating feel of his kisses and his large body trapping yours. You can’t help the dreadful thought amongst your tears —

But what about Suguru?

#. ۫ ۶ৎ . 𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 '𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 ﹕ satoru gojo ꒱ . ˚◞✧#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #yandere jjk #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere jjk x reader

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chaoticducky · 1 day ago

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Shang Qinghua cares.

He cares so much.

He loves his creation.

The world he should know better than anything.

But.. well.

Even creator gods can forget things.

The system doesnt want him to remember.

Shang Qinghua cares.

Hes been through this story more than once.

Been trapped within the system in his own story.

A loop of lies, pain, and death.

He forgets sometimes, that being in the story he made, has made these people real.

Shen Yuan is real.

Shen Jiu is real.

Lou Binghe is real.

And it has been shoved into his attention.

Shen Jiu's soul is missing.

And if Shang Qinghua is right.. probably shattered.

Thats why the system has dragged Shen Yuan here.

To take his place.

To take his torment.

The torment he never wanted to give to Shen Jiu.

The torment he never wanted binghe to experiance.

Hes trapped in his own story.

Useless in the face of people being tormented.

And the system is changing the rules.

His son is dead.

And the system is changing the rules.

Shang Qinghua cares.

And that will be the systems undoing.

You dont trap an administrator.

You dont chain a god.

Shang Qinghua gets up in the middle of a Peak Lord meeting. One he could recits in his sleep.

He brushes his fingers over the systems screens and

Weeps

Glowing Fractrals spins from his hands, as they grab the systems screens and tugs, snarl on his face as he wrenches.

I am Ỷ̵̠͕͕̱͎̞̤͎̠̗̈́̈̒̓͒̒͒́͆ͅo̶̡̜͎̮̪̬͓̳͔͐̀̂͛͜u̸̫̣͍͖̪̲͂̀̀̈̒̂̅͛r̴̺͉͔̣̣̽͗̾̎̋̚ ̶͙̺͈͈͙̱̥̬̣̯̓͜ǵ̴͇̬͎͙͇͔̦̹̊̊́̔̓̋̾͐͘͝o̵̰̠̙̝͎̗͛̅̇̔̎̊̋́̊̕ḍ̴̨̽͑.

I̸͉̯͊̀̅̔͑̃̓͐̽́͌͠͝ ̸̡̨̟͓̻̠̩̖̟̤̖̣̟̲̒͆̏͛̑̋́͑͘͝ͅŵ̸̡͍͎̺̖͚͇̱̥͙͈̼̐͌̐̓͌͋̑̿͒̈͗͝͝i̶̦̫̳͖̲͙̞̺̿̓͐̒͆͌͑͂͛͌ḷ̶̨̧̢̠͇̰̟̼̥̞̐ͅļ̷̨̩̪̋̀̎̊̓̐͌͋͒̆̎̓̒̕ ̶̖͕͔̥̬̦̺̃͌́n̸̼͓͔̠̱̗͖̽̀̽ǫ̸̛̤͑͒̒̅̓̏̓̚͝ṱ̸̜͙͇̣̳͚̟̭̄̈́̍̑̐͊̚͠ ̸̪͎̾͐̽́̓͂͝w̶̜͆̌̓̓̽͊̎͐̔̎̏̐͘͠a̵͖͕͛̓̄͗̊̊̆̈́͘ͅt̷̡͍͓̗͖̊͛̈́̌̋̍̄̑̐̊̕͠c̶̮͕̭̤̖̣͍̙͕̀͌̕͜͝͠h̴̢̛̖͓̫͙̭̻̦͙͇̫͕̰̖͂͒͂̿̆̄̑̈́̓̍́͘͠͝ ̶̢̡̻̤̹̝̠̟̦̹̟̰͗̀͒̊͂̍̒͝͝ͅẗ̷̤̠͈̳́͒̓h̴̛̠̦̝̺̊̓̂ͅi̵̭͔̘̞̦͆̂̏̿̑̉̀̄̍͗̕̚͝s̷̢̡͓̜̞̪̝͉̹̫̥̟̹̽̿͋̽͋͐͜ͅ ̵̢̢͙̮̙͇̓s̴͎̔͠t̶̨̛͙̳̒̑͂̀o̵̧̨̟͇̥̱̘̖̖̪̭̣͙̤̩̽͆͑̒͗̈́̓͑̄͠r̴̝͇̥̦̮̥̣̬͓̐͛͒͒̍̀̋͝ͅỳ̵̨̢̝̞̤͕̞͚͉̘̗͉̩͌̄̀̈̈̉̂̈́̇͊͠ ̴̢̡̗̖̠̩͇͚̣̮͇̓̐̐͂p̸̡̢̢̹̜͔̖̮̫͔̣͙̻̀̎̒͂̔̀̾͗̑̿̄͛ļ̴̯͇̿͋̋̌̌a̴̧̛̩̘̱̩̰͚͚̪̯̥͓̅̽͊̑̆̑͠ͅy̵̩̥̰̗̮̣̟͈̪̙̺̐͗̅͑̂̅͆̍̄̇͑͒͛̚ ̷̡̪͇͍͖͔̖͍̐̈́̉o̶̻͎̘̬͚̒͒͘ǘ̴̢̨̥̤̦̮̺͔͎̥̪̫̣̎͜͝t̸͚̺͙̙͓̤̓ͅ ̷̧̛͇͚̭͚̯͓̝̲͕͋̒̒̊a̷̯̼̳͚̹̯̺̺̝̲̬̣̔́g̸̨̛͔̤̞͉͖̫̫̟̉͌̌ã̸̤͕͖̊̐̀̓̽̀̕͘͘͝͠i̸̡̨̧̳͎̼͉̮͈͈̲͌̊̋͆̽͐̈n̶̫̖̮̣̞̮̙̝͕̊͜͠

Time fractures, pauses.

Theres a scream. Unnatural in the sudden stillness.

Before time Rewinds.

And Shang Qinghua wakes up back in his office to the System chiming.

[Administrator Logged in.]

[Welcome Airplane shooting through the sky!]

(for jumbled text: your god, and i will not watch this story play out again.)

awakening of the creator

(the system sucks)

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bunnybeaches · 2 days ago

Text

We’re on Air

Pairing: John Price x radio host! reader

or: Johnny and Kyle call into your radio station to help save John’s love life.

cw: swearing, fluff, bad attempt at johnnys accent

wc: 1.1k

part 1!

‘On Air’ has been flashing above you all night and yet nothing interesting. Coffee has gone cold, the blanket has fallen to wrap around your shoulders, and doodles grace your notebook. You love your job, you really do. Just some nights take it out of you.

One lady called and spent almost an hour gushing over her toxic ex-boyfriend, while another cried because the cat favors her husband.

You do quite fancy your job, you really truly do, but sometimes it’s overwhelming. You’ve felt sparks of love. Little bursts yet never that gushing feeling. The feeling where you’d absolutely do whatever you wanted for your person.

People come to you for your advice. Your hot takes on how people should act, or love. Sometimes you don’t feel quite qualified for this job.

What’s a girl doing giving love advice, but she can’t even follow her own advice?

Supernatural by Ariana Grande plays softly on the radio as you spin and spin in your chair. Slow nights like these are the absolute worst. You’ve almost gone through all the songs you wanted to play whilst still having over two more hours of the show left.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as the song ends. One more spin before—

“Hello everyone, Welcome back to Love Notes!” You immediately put on your radio voice. The sugary, soft voice that makes you seem more welcoming.

“Still waiting for any calls! Talk to me about anything. "I’m all yours for the next two hours!” An exaggerated laugh leaves your lips right as the phone rings.

“Oh hello lovely! What brings you here to my show?” You smile even though you can’t see what you assume to be a lady.

“Aye lass? Is this tha’ radio show? Love notes?” A man. That’s a man’s voice. A quite Scottish man at that.

You don’t get men on this show often. Maybe to ask for a suggestion, or advice. This man seems like he wants to have a whole conversation with you. This should be interesting.

“Love? Are you still there?” He has a friend. A British friend. “We need help.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for! Go ahead boys, I’m always happy to help someone in love.”

You frantically flip through your notebook. Trying desperately to find a page without your doodles.

With an inhale then and exhale you say, “Ok, I’m ready. What can I help you boys with on this fine evening?” Radio voice, use your radio voice and make it seem like you’re interested.

“Yes well, it would probably help if you knew our names,” The British one introduces himself first, “My name is Kyle. The other lad here is my mate, Johnny.” Johnny does a little wolf whistle.

“Aye, lass. We ‘ave this friend . He’s been alane fer years. He needs a date. We’re sick o’ him spoilin’ our nights at the pub wi’ his singleness.” Johnny’s voice goes fast. Spilling out any and all details about his friend.

You jot down any details you can pick up from his rambling. His friend's name is John Price. John is in his mid-thirties, and he’s in the military. Those are the basic details you’re able to pick up from Johnny.

“You want me to do what now? Well, I mean…I’m sure I could do that, but I’ve never done anything like that before.” You blank for a moment. Your show isn’t a dating show, and it never will be.

People don’t come to you to find a date, they come to complain or ask for advice on love. You aren’t a matchmaker, nor are you cupid. You’re just someone who’s trying to please the people pleaser inside of you.

“Aye love, we want you to get our lad a date.” Kyle says it slower this time. Like you couldn’t comprehend their ridiculous ask in the first place.

“You open your mouth, then close it again, then open it, then close it, before saying, “It’s uh…time for a commercial break.” Never once in your two years on this show have you gotten speechless.

”Stay on the line boys, we’ll be right back!” And with that you flow out commercials for the most useless shit no one will use.

“Find their friend a date! Who do they think I am!“ You pace back and forth, and all around your little booth. A few paces and a few jumps up and down should do, or that’s what you think. Right as you go to sit down the booth door swings open.

“Oh my god girl! I can’t believe you did this!” Tina, the office manager and your best friend, storms into the room.

”What did I do..?” You stare at her. She looks ecstatic right now.

“Well this John guy! You have to get this poor man a date!” She shoves her phone in your face. “The ratings babes! They are up like crazy! I’ve had so many calls about this guy already and wanting to date him!”

The color drains from your face, You aren’t qualified for this. Is she trying to make you look like a fool on the radio? In front of 100s, well 20s, of people.

“T, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t do this. I’m not—“

“John Price, from thirty to flirty!” Tina’s smile is gigantic. This is huge for the station. This could finally be what brings you guys back up.

You watch her. Study her. You know how Tina thinks. She’s going to put all her effort into this project till it succeeds. And it will. You won’t let her down. Letting her down is letting the show down, you can’t do that.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll talk to John and get his thoughts. I won’t let you down T. I promise.” You muster up the best smile you can before bidding her farewell.

“Don’t let me down gorgeous! I’m counting on you!” Tina spins around with a wave of her hand. Her heels click click click against the ground as she walks away. The same click click click that’s going on inside your head.

You plop back into your chair with a sigh. Radio voice, radio voice, radio voice, they can’t know you think this is ridiculous. They won’t know you think you’ll fail. The radio voice wi—

“Hello and welcome back! If you’re just now tuning in, let me catch you up! We have two lads here, Johnny and Kyle. They are trying to find a date for their friend.” You flip through the notebook.

“His name is John Price.” You smile softly. Maybe you’ll get a shot at him if this doesn’t work out.

“So boys I’m ready! Let me meet John.” You’re followed by silence.

“Boys? Johnny? Kyle? Did I lose you?”

“Ne lass you didn’t we're still here..y’see the thing is..John don’t know tha’ we called you.” Your mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t know. All this shit for a man who doesn’t even know this is happening. What could possibly go wrong.

i’m soooo proud of this it’s the biggest thing i’ve ever written

thank you to allll my friends who supported me but especially @tojisteddy i love you so much girl

tag list: @yshanavocado, @omgfangirlland , @dilf-luvr-4evr

#bunnybeaches #bunny writes #john price #john price x reader #call of duty #cod #john price cod #john price fluff #johnny mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price call of duty #john price x you #woooo so pumped #everything is appreciated!

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corpscs · 2 days ago

Text

summer’s for the girls ⧗ yelena x new avenger!reader

♡ minors and men dni , no use of y/n , wlw , team bickering , everyone is annoyed and sweaty , smut 18+ , ice cubes , stonetop!yelena , yelena and reader are girlfriends , reader has unspecified electrokinesis ability , images are from pinterest , divider , this was edited by my cat so ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes i will probably find them later , russian is from google/reddit

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ detka - babe , lyubimaya - my love

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ masterlist , word count: 3.5k

bones’ now playing ▶︎ for the girls - hayley kiyoko

the watchtower was hot.

a heatwave was currently rolling across the east coast and caused a black out. the power was back on now, but the hvac system got fried in the power surge. oscillating fans could only do so much and the windows of the watchtower barely opened for safety purposes. all the team could do was sit and try not to move too much.

bucky walked into the room, his phone call interrupting the rare, natural peace the team had achieved all on their own, or maybe you all were just overheating. when bucky cursed under his breath, you decided to looked up from your book.

you and bob started your own book club after you got benched for a failed mission due to an electrical explosion, which totally could have not been because of you, but who knows? this week you decided to play some kind of sick joke and choose stephen king’s under the dome, 1,080 something pages. poor bob nearly had a heart attack, but you promised him way more than a week to read and marathon run of the show they made about it before he hesitantly agreed.

“alright.” bucky gruffed into his phone’s receiver. his hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, the shorter fringe pieces sticking to the sides of his sweat slicked face. “thanks, you too.” he hung up the phone with a sigh.

“so… what’s the verdict?” ava asked.

“two days.” and the entire room erupted into groans.

“why can’t we get a hotel?” john suggested. his shirt had been discarded long ago, now only wearing a pair of gym shorts. he was laying flat on the tile floor, the coldest place to be. it was also where ava chose to sit and hog one of three fans set up in the room.

“why? you offering to pay for it, taco bell?” you snorted. the nickname appeared after the sentry folded his shield.

“why should i? barnes’ got a bigger salary than all of us.”

“no hotels!” bucky’s commanding tone was enough to silence them all. “you’re avengers. if a little east coast heatwave can take you all out then we really are doomed.” he paused, feeling a slight draft behind him. “close the freezer, yelena.” bucky warned. even with his back to the bar he could see the russian draped over the bar’s freezer. she groaned before complying with his order, but slamming the cooler door in retaliation.

“you sure you can’t fix it, sparky?” john asked.

“i’m not a fucking engineer.” you rolled your eyes as yelena wandered back to the couch.

the blonde was clad in a grey tank top and black lounge shorts. flopping down to take up the remaining space of the two-seater, head on the arm rest and laying her legs across your thighs. you lifted your book to accommodate her legs before lowering your arms back down to her shins and continuing to read.

“eugh,” she made a face, throwing her head back in disgust. both of you were instantly aware of the slickness of your combined sweat, but didn’t care enough to move. “this is the worst!” yelena complained, yet she made no attempt to change her position.

“we’re all hot yelena.” bucky reminded her as he finished off his nth water of the day.

“yes, but my girlfriend is next to me. and she is sticky and wet, but not in the good ways.” she spoke to the ceiling before lolling her head to the side and locking eyes with bucky.

the others groaned in disgust while you laughed at bucky trying to downplay choking on his last sip of water. now deciding to neglect your book, you watched her laugh falter and then you watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. the exposed skin of her upper chest and shoulders glimmered with sweat under the bright studio lighting of the tower ceiling. you decided to turn back to your book because it was way too hot to be allowing your mind wander in that direction right now.

“why do we even have leather couches?” yelena moved slightly feeling the stick of the material.

“easy to clean?” john suggested.

“john, i’ve never seen you clean one thing in this entire room before.” ava pointed out.

“yeah, well, i didn’t mean me.” he snapped before silence enveloped the group for a minute or two. the air is so humid and hostile you almost feared the next person who opened their mouth was gonna get themselves tossed out one of the open sliding doors.

“has anyone seen alexei?” ava blurted. they hadn’t spotted the man in a few hours.

“maybe he’s at the pool.” bob suggested. he’d been so quiet reading with his back against the cold stone of the wall you forgot he was there

“isn’t that pool like 80 degrees?” john asked.

“that’s colder than the air, right?”

yelena chose to ignore bob’s question, the last thing she wanted was to lash out at someone who didn’t deserve it. she reminded herself that she was just irritated and that bob was bob.

“he’s probably off drinking to forget about the heat. i don’t know.” she shrugged her outward shoulder slightly. a pause and suddenly yelena was sitting up like you had electrocuted her. the sound of her skin peeling off the material of the couch made you internally cringe.

“yelena, no.” you derailed her train of thought before she could even suggest something.

“oh c’mon, lyubimaya” she whined. “you did not even hear my idea.”

“i don’t need to.” you ignore whatever she grumbled under her breath as she continued to stare at the side of your face.

“you have been reading that same page for six minutes.” her eyes dropped to the page open in your lap.

“i’m distracted.” you side eyed her flipping the page. not because you finished reading it, but to prove a point.

“am i distracting you?” you made the mistake of fully looking at her. whisps of her bangs had fallen out of her headband and stuck to her brow. you could see a small bead of sweat dripping down her left temple.

“the team is distracting.” you lied.

“if i have to watch you two flirt in this heat i may actually stroke out.” john jokingly gagged.

“keep it up you guys.” ava feigned a cheer.

“i think you all got heat stroke.” bucky muttered before leaving the team with one final order, “drink some water.”

it wasn’t a moment later before alexei appeared in the room like a summoned spirit.

“and where have you been?” yelena asked her father in an accusing tone.

“cold shower.” he held up both hands closing his thumb and pointer fingers into a double okay sign. the rest of the team made sounds acknowledgment, but you could only imagine the future lecture from bucky about the water bill. you opened you book back up and attempted to read once more.

you managed to get two pages in before yelena was leaning close to your face,

“detka, i have a new idea.”

“of course you do.” you turned to your left, your faces now no more than two inches apart. her breath didn’t even feel warm against your already heated skin. her eyes moved to your lips before she jerked back, catching the half empty water bottle that walker just hucked in your direction. that action alone had some deprived part of your brain clicking to life.

“hey!” she scolded him.

“get a room.” he hollered. yelena huffed, and threw her legs off your lap, both of you releasing small twin ow’s at the sweat stuck skin ripping apart. you opened your mouth to complain but she leaned down and ordered you to wait ten minutes before following her, “you never heard my idea.”

˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

while you had tried to think up the possibilities of yelena’s idea, you actually did not think of this. but here you were, laying on one of her bleach stained towels, back against your mattress. yelena straddled one of your legs, sitting comfortably despite the temperature of the room. the hum of that fan that’s been running for thirty-some odd hours straight drowned out whatever playlist yelena had playing. it was pointed towards the bed and softly blew around the lose wisps of her hair.

beside her was a metal bowl full of ice cubes.

“ready?” she asked reaching her hand into the bowl. she took a single ice cube into her hand as she adjusted her knees to straddle your hips.

“go for it.” you gave her a lazy ‘okay’. she grinned and placed the ice cube between your collar bones. you gasped from the cold sensation spreading across your skin, goosebumps prickling down your shoulders and arms.

she dragged the ice between your collar bones and chest, avoiding the hem of your tank top. but the ice melted quickly on your heated skin, some soaking your tank and the rest slipping down around your neck. she dragged the cube to the center of your sternum, under the tank top before holding her hand over the material. it didn’t take long for the ice cube to melt completely through the warmth of your chest.

although the ice was startling, the minor relief from the hot air was good enough.

yelena unceremoniously yanked your tank top down below your breasts. and when you heard the threads of the fabric snapping, you scolded her with a gasp of her name.

“relax, i’m pretty sure this one was mine anyways.” was.

“i don’t think so.” your voice pitched upwards into a shriek as she pinched your nipple with cold fingers. “you said you don’t like spaghetti straps.” you recalled catching your breath back.

“i don’t.” yelena agreed. she didn’t like them. she remembers the conversation you two had about waking up tits out because that type of tank top tends to travel in any given direction while sleeping. it was one of the first times yelena was fully honest with you about something. she didn’t like that vulnerability, being exposed. and you were so understanding, you always were.

so no, she would never tell you that the real reason why she gave you all her spaghetti straps a few weeks after that was the very same reason she hated them. you’d probably call her some sort of pervert.

dipping her hand back into the bowl, yelena picked out a new ice cube placing it on the same spot between your collar bones. she dragged the cube in the same path as the first one before sliding it to the opposite nipple she had pinched before. it didn’t feel bad, but it felt strange. like your brain couldn’t figure out if it hurt with all much sensory input against the air in the room.

you gasped loudly, your hand instinctively moving to grab at her wrist. yelena was obviously faster than you and she grabbed a hold of your wrist with her free hand instead. heat flooded your core when she laughed in your face at your attempt to push away. but she held it there until the ice cube was too small to hold in her fingers anymore so she let it melt against your heaving chest.

“c’mon, it must feel nice.” she moved her soaked hand to rub the water across your chest.

“it’s cold.” you wined.

“but it is so hot in here.” she countered. “and you are sweaty. i bet you smell horrible.”

“yelena!” you gasped in embarrassment. now trying to wiggle yourself out from under her.

“i am no better!” she laughed, squeezing her thighs around your hips. “it is, like, 40 degrees in here.” your physical strength was almost infantilizing compared to yelena, and it was too hot to keep up a fight you can’t win.

“i don’t know the metric system, babe.” maybe your delivery was more snarky than you had intended because yelena yanked up her your tank top before dropping an ice cube directly to your belly button. you shrieked loudly, your free hand now going for her wrist. she decided to let you grab her, knowing your physical strength alone isn’t enough to move her hand.

“be careful with your hands detka. you do not want not shock me, again.” you instinctively bucked up against yelena, your hips twisting to avoid the cold sensation. she only followed and controlled your movements.

by the time the ice cube on your stomach melted, her your tank was nearly soaked through with the combined back sweat against the fitted sheet. she allowed you to sit up and wiggle the material off your arms fully.

yelena paused briefly, only allowing herself time to admire her girlfriend, but not really allowing you a full chance to recover. her ice cold hand slipped from it’s spot on your middle and down the below the waistband of your shorts. the cold digits ghosted over your panties and you squealed once again reaching for her.

“ah-ah, please keep your hands to yourself this time. that was very rude.” yelena chided, though she understood it was your natural reflex to the cold. she took some sympathy on you and reached for the hem of her own sweat-soaked tank. she peeled it off, leaving her clad in a black sports bra, before she unceremoniously dropped the cotton onto your bare chest. “since you want something to hold on to.”

she grinned as you immediately gripped the grey article between your fingers. it was damp against your own sweaty palms and it smelt strongly of yelena.

she used the m distraction to sit up and pull your shorts and panties down. the sweat coating your thighs working extra hard against her, but winning the struggle with some extra effort from you.

yelena manhandled you back to where she wanted before straddling you once more. you watched her with wide eyes as she grabbed another ice cube. placing it back against your belly button. you gasped as she slowly brought it down your lower abdomen before holding just above your cunt.

your lips pressed into a thin line to keep your shrieking to a minimum. normally she would be against it, after that one time you accidentally bit through your lip hard enough that it bled for more than a few minutes. and yelena would rather drink bleach than sit through another meeting, where mortifying enough, she shared real reason behind the injury and not because they thought you two had some sort of physical dispute. after that incident yelena said no more and called the ego boost collateral.

her free hand reached to grip your jaw, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to hold you in place. “be careful.” she warned, feeling your unsteady breaths against her hand as you nodded.

the ice cube was about the size of nickel now and her fingers had long since lost their feeling. yelena originally was going to let this ice cube fully melt before she got another, but she decided that she was too eager to see your reaction to wait. after shuffling back just ever so slightly to brace for your reaction, she slipped the remains of the ice cube directly beside your clit.

your entire body seized up, your mouth finally opening in a dramatic gasp. “oh my god!” you shrieked, repeating the phrase like a mantra. “lena!” your legs jerked from under her but the weight of her hips held your knees firmly in place.

when you arched too far off the bed for her liking the hand that once gripped your jaw pushed your chest back down to the bed. her hand held just below where you still gripped her tank top. “i think you can handle it.” her voice carried a song to it’s tone.

you shook you head while crying out dramatically, “its cold!” your legs still tried working against her, but she didn’t budge an inch. her height made her seem unassuming, but she was 5 foot something of solid muscle.

what remained of the ice cube quickly disappeared with the heat from your folds, but yelena kept her hand there. only giving you a break from the cubes, her nearly ice cold fingers still sliding mindlessly through the added water in your arousal. she selfishly took this time to warm her own fingers back up. you called her name softly as she tucked her thumb around your clit, rolling the bundle around slowly.

“yes, lyubimaya?” she drawled, not really paying attention to you. she said something else in russian you couldn’t understand before her cold pointer finger was slipping inside of your heat. you gasped, walls fluttering around her digit. she pumped it slowly before adding her middle finger alongside it. she curled her fingers before slipping them out to toy with your clit. her finger pads moved in steady circles and figure-eights your breathing sped up and your grip on her tank top tightened.

fearing destruction of the garment, your right arm had reached to grip the nearest item of bedding, which happened to be the white top sheet yelena had pushed over. it didn’t take long for her to make you cum.

and while you were catching you breath, yelena brazenly pinched your clit between her knuckles. just because she can. your hips jerked, unsure if you wanted to run to or from the feeling. “see,” she said simply. “not so bad?” you wanted to protest. to bicker that yes, she was being mean. but her fingers were toying with your clit once more, and any protests died out into moans.

the ice cubes left in the bowl where nearly half melted now, their crystallized edges now smooth and rounded like well-worn sea glass.

you watched her grab the next one. the look in yelena’s eyes alone should have had you nervous, but your brain had yet to fully catch up.

without hesitation she slid the ice cube through your folds as your body tried to clench up. but her fingers still pushed through, the ice cube breaching your hole, her two fingers holding it inside you.

you had long since given up attempting to keep quiet. you squealed doing your very best to try and run from her. yelena chased your hips with her hand, lifting the pressure off your thighs ever so slightly. even when the ice melted and the water soaked her hand, she kept it in place, just pumping slowly.

yelena began to rub lazy circles on your clit with her thumb. you moaned loudly, eyes fluttering as your tired body practically hummed with the warm feeling after all of the cold. after she felt you were worked up enough, distracted enough, she effortlessly used a combat move to flip you onto your stomach. landing with and oof, you turned your face to the side to look back at her.

“watch it.” you grumbled as yelena pulled your hips up and back towards her.

“you’re fine.” was all she had to say. before she slotted her knee between your knees. your breath trembled as your clit slid down her thigh.

the feeling from the ice cubes had long left and now your body was warming by the second. “lena.” you gasped out as she pushed her fingers back through your entrance, using her free hand to help fuck you back into her hand. she used that thigh between your legs to help rock you forwards after the pull back, stimulating your clit.

you were now hot. too hot. you honestly might pass out. now you were no longer paying attention to anything anymore. only gasping out into the crumpled sheets below you.

you were so close. yelena knew it. she could feel it. you’re hips were squirming against her hold now, yet she tried her best to control your rhythm. when she felt it, felt your body seize. she kneed your thighs apart, as far as your hips would go. the hand that had been thrusting now rubbed your clit in short circles prolonging your orgasm. still cumming, you were so in your own head that you never noticed her pause to each her hand into that metal bowl.

yelena used her dry hand to push your hips down and open before she shoved the final ice cube inside. you attempted to close your legs, but she had you practically sitting in her lap face down. then when you tried to pull forward, she yanked you right back into place, keeping your hole plugged with her fingers until the cube melted down.

you’re certain that you had a momentary black out from shock and you almost couldn’t catch your breath. still yelena didn’t move. she was watching you and waiting for you to move first.

“i think i’m dead.” was the first thing you said, arms moving slowly to stretch forward above your head.

“i can confirm that you are not.” she rolled you off onto your side, putting the bowl of cold ice water on the night table.

“i think i saw God.”

“and what did she look like?” yelena’s voice was farther away as she reached around bedding and fished out a water bottle, she knew she had stored somewhere.

“you.” you said with a giggle.

“you are so flirty.” she laughed landing a playful slap on your sensitive cunt. you jolted, but stayed put until she yanked you back to a sitting position. she handed you the uncapped water bottle which you drank greedily.

“do you think bob would want to get ice cream with us?” yelena blurted. you blinked.

“since when did we decide to get ice cream?” yelena shrugged.

“i don’t know somewhere in the middle.” she made an obtuse gesture with her hands.

you huffed, “i need like twenty minutes and a cold shower.”

˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

if you’re in hot temperatures wherever you are be sure check up on pals with no ac and remember to DRINK WATER!!!

this would have been up earlier today, but i was victimized by another nap. also this ended up being SO MUCH longer than i had intended. at some point i got way too high and kept on going and going,, also sorting out some sort of master list

𓉸 ♡ ,

bones

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aizenat · 3 days ago

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They’re goal isn’t to make Sabrina feminist (these ppl see feminist as a dirty man-hating word; young gen z women especially do NOT in general identify as feminists), but to shut up feminist critiques of her. Every pop act since the 70s has had feminists writing about how they allow themselves to be portrayed and sexualized; remember when Rashida Jones wrote on the pontification of pop culture in the 2010s and everyone had a cow over it? And was she wrong????

This has always been the song and dance, but with 2010s girlboss “feminism” taking over most ppls perception of what feminism is, these ppl are fighting back going “actually, Sabrina is doing this for herself so it’s feminist and YOU’RE the misogynist for questioning that!” They just took a talking point ppl were making of not judging women too harshly for doing what they can to survive the patriarchy to start arguing that no one can question or challenge the morals and ethics of women who actively (and almost gleefully) throw women under the bus for the patriarchy. Like in the past, I think pop stars were always trying to toe the line of doing what sells while also not straight debasing and humiliating themselves (if they could help it). They weren’t PERFECT with it, but I felt you could see them doing that balancing act and as women who do that all the time ourselves, could find it relatable and have compassion.

But modern pop girlies seem to revel in the sexual humiliation. The submission to the patriarchy IS the point. Sabrina’s girl next door turn sex kitten is literally that. She could have kept going the Taylor swift route, be a lover girl or another Olivia, but she’d get drown out and forgotten. So what does she do instead? She submits to the patriarchy and starts “selling sex.” Or rather her sexuality. Her sexual performance. And it’s a hit so of course she’s going to keep leaning into it. She now sees that submitting to the patriarchy happily gets more bees. And you can call the man you submit to a manchild and that’s enough for everyone to excuse your hypersexuality.

It’s also why Sydney Sweeney’s bath water thing felt weird too because it’s another public display of submission to the patriarchy. Sydney is a famous actress, and one of the most recognizable of her age. Why the FUCK is she debasing herself selling soap with her bath water in it? Oh because misogynistic men will love it, and the patriarchy will profit her. Her playing into the mass pressure girls feel to sexually exploit themselves for profit (did you know a recent study shows 1 in 5 hs girls are considering starting only fans as soon as they turn 18?? Of has become a typical career path for young girls!!!!) just makes girls give up fighting it! If girls as rich and pretty and talented as Sabrina and Sydney can’t escape bowing to the patriarchy, why should any other girl fight it? Why NOT just become porn and get lost in a sea of girls humiliating themselves in photos and videos that will last forever if even wealthy and famous celeb women are forced to do it?

And pointing that out being seen as the problem (or just pearl clutching) is just how these assholes shut us up like they’ve been trying to do for 50+ years now.

Sabrina Carpenter photographed by David LaChapelle

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sevsevteen · 2 days ago

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tw: implied harassment (non-graphic)

The ride back to the dorm was quiet.

Too quiet for someone who should’ve been excited - new solo lines, progress on the album, another step forward into Seventeen's dream. You clutched your bag tighter in the van’s back seat, headphones on, but nothing playing. Your fingers were trembling slightly.

Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe he didn’t mean it like that. Maybe you imagined the pause… the way his hand lingered when it 'accidentally' touched your thighs. The way he leaned too close. The way his fingers brushed your ear to tuck a loose strand behind.

Your mind repeated the scene again and again like a glitching loop. Each time you tried to rewrite it. Minimize it. Fix it so it felt less wrong.

He was a senior producer. Respected in the industry. “Famous for mentoring rookies.” The company even called you lucky to get private time with him. And he smiled the whole time - you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

And yet.

Your stomach had dropped when you saw him reaching for you again, that low voice saying, “You’re tense. You should learn to relax more. You’d be even prettier if you smiled.”

You don’t even remember what you said in response. Just that you left as fast as you could without running right after recording ended.

When you entered the dorm, the usual buzz of voices and background music filled your ears - a contrast to the quiet storm inside your chest.

“You’re back,” Dino called from the couch.

“You hungry?” Mingyu offered, walking past with a bowl of ramyeon.

“Recording go okay? Sorry I couldn't be there.” Woozi asked gently, spinning around from the couch.

You nodded, voice too soft. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But the members knew something was off. You didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Your smile was plastic - the kind the members always spotted fake, no matter how convincing it looked.

Joshua noticed it first, sitting up straighter. Then Seungcheol exchanged a look with Jeonghan, the unspoken message clear between them. Something had happened.

You retreated to your room quickly. Too quickly.

A few minutes passed before a knock sounded softly at the door.

“Can I come in?” It was Cheol.

You hummed.

He stepped in, careful, calm, like approaching a skittish animal - not because you were fragile, but because he respected your silence.

He didn’t ask anything at first. Just sat down beside you on the bed, waiting.

You folded in on yourself slowly, picking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “It was fine. The recording.”

Seungcheol nodded.

“But?” he said gently.

You hesitated. Then your voice cracked - barely audible. “It felt weird.”

His jaw tightened. “Weird, how?”

Your throat worked. “He… touched my hair. Said it was in my face. Then his hand bumped into my thighs, but didn’t really move away. It-" You had to take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m just making it up.”

“You’re not,” Seungcheol said instantly.

Your eyes welled. “But what if I misunderstood?”

He shook his head. “Even if it wasn’t intentional - the moment it made you uncomfortable, it mattered.”

Your tears broke free at that. No one had said that to your before. Not the staff, not the manager on the phone, not even yourself. Not until now.

“I didn’t know how to react,” you whispered.

“You don’t need to. Not alone.” Seungcheol looked at you firmly. “We’ll talk to the company. You’re not doing another solo session with him, ever.”

The next thing you knew, you were surrounded - Jun slipping in quietly to sit beside your other side, Seungkwan sat cross-legged on the floor, rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Dino leaned on the doorframe, eyes watery but jaw set like steel.

They didn’t bombard you with questions.

They just stayed.

Until the heaviness in your chest started to lift - not because the incident was gone, but because now… you weren’t alone in holding it.

#seventeen 14th member #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt 14th member #svt imagines #svt scenarios

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craniumcrunch · 21 hours ago

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i’ve thought about this a lot recently — more specifically asking myself the question of, had any of the others reached out to misty, would she have accepted?

look at her relationship with walter. it started out tentative, with misty initially shying away from his advances in favour of seeking out nat. then in the compound nat forsakes her (in a sense) for lottie, and in their brief encounter shauna seeks to alienate her from the rest of the group. these are the seeds sown for the deprivation tank hallucination, wherein which her ‘perfect partner’ is one who accepts her exactly as she is. and i mean, walter can technically never fit the mould of perfect partner because he’s a MAN, but other than that he *should* check her boxes. and at a distance, he does! it’s not like misty only ever feels derision regarding him. there is a compulsion to be close to him because he is possibly the only person on the planet who cares (in his own weird way). vulnerability. a perceived, false connection, vastly different to all the others she’s formed — in which misty plays the role of the *pursued*, rather than the *pursuer* and it makes her so, so uncomfortable.

so that’s kind of what i want to talk about here. misty being the object as opposed to the subject. misty being on the receiving end of affection rather than its giver. one of the reasons her relationships just *can’t* work out is because misty invests 100% of her energy into the person she’s focused on and expects them to give, like, 7% back. and i think she’s afraid of doing things differently. i think that, secretly, she’s relieved when none of the girls call her up.

this rejection of care isn’t something we see her do with walter alone, bc then it could just be chalked up to *that*. no, when nat’s on the phone with her, back in s1, misty interrupts her before she can apologise. equally, she glosses over nat’s apology at the door. because these interactions are genuine, and misty spurns affection unless it’s something manipulated/controlled. that isn’t to say she doesn’t desire being cared for — it’s to say it’s a shallow desire, it’s her chasing an idea, like she does with romance/men.

also to do with how she subconsciously hates herself and actively pushes away anybody who emulates any one of her behaviours. case in point, walter, and you could even argue shauna — what with her stalking and their similar responses to lottie’s death and such. + shauna giving her that brief monologue at the end going like ‘you’re just like me’ and misty’s face going all blank. yeah, she’s figured out they’re a lot more similar than either of them originally thought a long time ago.

i have completely forgotten about how misty canonically spent 6 WEEKS in bed after nats death and literally none of the girls called or went to check on her #KILLINGMYSELF

#misty quigley #yellowjackets #mistynat #anti mistywalter #mistyshauna #kind of #feeling a lot of misty feelings lately. uh.

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femmesport · 3 days ago

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Almost Something - Chapter One

warning: none an: AHHH here it is - please please please have grace i know this isn't all that good and unedited so also ignore that wc: 3.9k

Paige sat on the bus with her head leaned against the window and music floating around her. Her teammates were joking around buzzing with tired adrenaline after a particularly gratifying win. Across the aisle, Azzi Fudd laughed loudly at something an underclassman had whispered to her. It was the type of full body laugh that caused her to scrunch her face, close her eyes, and lean back.

This tiny moment should’ve been nothing. One of the hundreds of throw away moments that have been collected since they first played together. Instead, Azzi’s laugh found her way into Paige’s mind and settled like the most comforting blanket that wrapped around Paige too tightly. The weight of this insignificant moment caught in Paige’s throat and threatened to spill into the shift that Paige had come to notice.

Azzi and Paige were not just teammates. They were not just friends. Well, on paper they were. But Paige felt the weight of what they were settling its roots deep into her bones. This shift had been happening for a long time between shared hotel beds at away games, the lingering touches during hand shakes, and the way their gazes found each other when things got too loud.

Paige looked a moment longer. In that moment she tried searing the happiness she saw on Azzi into her mind. She wanted this version of Azzi to live forever. The version that laughed loosely and seemed relaxed without worrying about those around her.

She sighed as she felt the bus coming to a stop outside their hotel. The rest of the team was quick to hurry back to their rooms as the adrenaline started to bleed into exhaustion. The team unloaded and just as quickly filed into the elevators back to their rooms they had for one more night.

As the team dispersed to their respective rooms, Paige’s feet slowed down. She stopped at the edge of the door and allowed herself a moment before entering into the thick air that always seemed to be present when she shared a space with Azzi.

Before she could stand outside the door too long, she opened up the door and went through the motions of getting ready for bed. She had felt exhaustion in every muscle in her body and let it be known as she lay on her bed with a groan.

“You okay?” Azzi asks softly from her spot on the bed nearest the window. Paige doesn’t even look at Azzi, but lets her gentle tone and undeniable warmth fill her body from across the room.

“‘M just sleepy” Paige mutters as she finds her way under the covers. It is silent for a moment, but just a moment.

Paige hears Azzi shuffling between the beds and finding her way to Paige’s. It is almost instinctual the way Paige shifts slightly to allow room for Azzi to join her under the covers of the bed. Azzi lays down and presses her body up against Paige’s. Paige wraps her arms around Azzi and pulls her tightly into her chest. Azzi melts into the embrace and tangles their legs while wrapping her arms around Paige’s middle.

“You played really well tonight” Azzi whispers into Paige’s chest and Paige squeezes gently in return.

“One player is only as good as the rest of her team” Paige responds gently leaning her chin onto the top of Azzi’s head.

“We are just so lucky to have you,” Azzi slowly offers, “I am so lucky to have you.” Azzi whispers out the last part but Paige hears it. She hears it and lets it settle into the night around them.

“Goodnight, Azzi” is all Paige whispers while wrapping her arms tighter around Azzi and letting the exhaustion take over.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Waking up wrapped in the soft embrace of a woman who you feel so strongly about should be a good thing, right? For Paige it was one of her more difficult moments. Waking up together had happened before. But this time was worse. Paige and Azzi would find themselves in each other’s arms under the shield of night time exhaustion. Usually Azzi would be gone about her day by the time Paige woke up.

Today, though, Paige woke up and found Azzi still asleep with her arms wrapped tightly around Paige’s middle. Her cheek was pressed onto Paige’s chest like it was the only thing that made sense with small huffs of breath meeting Paige’s arm. Their legs had become so tangled that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

Azzi looked truly and honestly peaceful. She wasn’t carrying herself with the expectations of being perfect that she does during the day. All the parts of her that were poised and put together seemed relaxed and calm.

Paige couldn’t stop herself from softly brushing a curl out of Azzi’s face. Instead of flinching or ignoring the sensation, Azzi buried herself further in Paige’s chest with a sigh.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly once she couldn’t ignore the sounds of her teammates growing outside in the hallway. Azzi huffed and tried hiding her face even more. Paige smiled at the girl tangled up with her and brushed her fingers up and down Azzi’s arm.

“Come on,” she whispers with a smile, not stopping from brushing her hand up and down Azzi’s arm, “they’ve given us a lot of grace, but we probably have five more minutes before KK decides texting is working and tries to break down the door.”

“‘M too comfy. They can drag me out” Azzi puts and Paige laughs gently. Paige gives her just a moment before detangling their bodies.

Azzi stays still in the bed a few moments longer as Paige goes about the motions of getting ready and gathering their things. As soon as Paige has finished in the bathroom Azzi is in, following through while Paige settles on the chair in the corner of the room.

Paige is scrolling through her phone and responding to messages when Azzi steps out. It is unfair how she can make anything seem like runway material. Athletic shorts and an oversized UCONN hoodie might be a new low for ruining Paige.

“You ready?” Paige asks while pocketing her phone. Azzi just hums before walking towards Paige.

She stops when she is standing between Paige’s legs. She leans forward slightly and adjusts the collar on Paige’s quarter zip. Their faces are too close for comfort and Azzi only looks up and smiles at Paige whose face has gone tight without warning.

“And now you are” Azzi smiles before patting at Paige’s shoulders and stepping back.

Paige lets out a deep breath, smiles, and thanks her best friend in return. Paige tries to keep it a normal friendly smile, but she was sure that her eyes were giving her away. They always did.

Azzi, seeming to not notice, grabbed her bookbag and suitcase heading to the door with Paige following. They step into the hall and see a few of their teammates taking their things and heading towards the elevator. Paige’s eyes never trail too far from Azzi. She didn’t even mean to, but she always had her eyes on Azzi.

“I am not sure how she hasn’t felt you burning holes into the back of her head, but you need to chill with the staring” KK whispers from beside her and Paige looks in her direction not even bothering to deny staring.

“It wasn’t that bad, just a few moments” Paige responds and KK clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes at Paige clearly knowing that was not the case.

The elevator doors open and Azzi turns around to grab the room keys that Paige was holding onto. She was in charge of returning them to the training staff. Paige handed them over and then ignored the desire to wait for Azzi. She instead followed the rest of the group to the bus. KK seemed ready to pick up the conversation.

“I am really not trying to be rude, but what is actually going on” KK huffs out as she adds her suitcase to the pile of others that were being put under the bus. Paige follows and then joins her friend as they end up in line to the bus.

“I’m good,” Paige said, but she was blinking too fast and looking anywhere but KK’s eyes. “I’m always good.”

“Girl, I know you are not trying to lie to me right now” KK retorts as they climb onto the bus and claim their typical seats towards the back.

“I’m not lying, we really are fine” Paige groans out wanting this conversation to be done with.

“Okay, you guys might be, but you are clearly not” KK points out and Paige doesn’t have a response to that one, so she lets the comment sit around them.

“Paige, I am really not trying to meddle. It’s not my business. What is my business though is one of my girls struggling. I just want to help” KK whispers the last part and then decides that her piece was out and she should give Paige space. She moves up a few spots and Paige almost thinks she will get the row to herself.

The silence lasts for only a few moments before Azzi is on the bus and notices the open seat next to Paige. She smiles before claiming the spot and nudging Paige with her shoulder.

“Should I be scared that you are capable of scaring off multiple seat mates?” Azzi jokes and Paige just looks at her a moment in return before smiling.

“That depends, should I be scared that you have been booted from your seat” Paige jokes in return and Azzi just laughs before turning to face her body forward and leaning her head on Paige’s shoulder.

Paige’s breath caught lightly and before she could really think about what she was doing, she was leaning her shoulder down to offer more space for Azzi to really settle in and get comfortable. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She worried that if she did, she would shatter this moment. She lifted her head slightly and made eye contact with KK who just sighed before turning around.

The entirety of the bus ride back to Storrs from Syracuse Paige didn’t move. She didn’t reach into her bag to get out her headphones. She didn’t grab her computer or books to do her homework. She settled into the seat and found some highlight reels on her phone as well as game analysis articles of their most recent game.

At one point she considered taking a nap, but she knew she had a tendency to move in her sleep and was worried about jostling Azzi. So, for the entire five-hour bus ride, Paige settled into place and let Azzi get the rest she so clearly needed.

Azzi began to stir beside her, still curled against Paige's side. Her head remained on Paige’s shoulder, her body warm and heavy like a blanket Paige didn’t want to take off. For five hours, Paige had barely moved. She didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t want to lose this.

Azzi's fingers twitched as she scrolled through her phone. Then, without lifting her head, “So... I think I might have a date this weekend.”

The words were soft. Careless. Excited. And they shattered Paige. Her stomach dropped so fast it stole her breath. She blinked once. Then again.

No.

“Really?” Paige heard herself say, voice tight. She cleared her throat. “That’s awesome.”

Azzi finally looked up at her, eyes bright. “Tyler. He’s in my econ class. I guess we’ve been flirting a little. He’s cute, you wanna to see a picture?”

Paige wanted to say no. She wanted to shake her head, pull away, bury her face in Azzi’s hoodie and pretend this wasn’t happening. But instead she smiled. Or tried to.

“Sure,” she said. Her voice was brittle glass.

Azzi turned her screen. A guy — generic, forgettable. Blonde hair, too confident smile, and eyes that didn’t know Azzi at all. Paige hated him instantly.

“Wow,” Paige said. She didn’t hear her own voice. “I’m so happy for you.”

Azzi beamed. “Thanks, P.”

Paige couldn’t look at her. She wrapped her arms around Azzi in a sudden hug, hiding her face in Azzi’s hair before her expression betrayed her. Azzi laughed, thinking it was just Paige being sentimental.

“I’m so happy for you,” Paige whispered again. But this time her voice cracked.

Azzi didn’t notice.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Paige sat on the couch in her dorm, phone in hand, thumb aimlessly scrolling. She wasn’t reading. She wasn’t seeing. Her body was still, but her mind? Her mind was back on the bus. Back to Azzi’s smile, back to the way she said “date” like it was no big deal.

Paige had replayed it too many times already. So... I think I might have a date this weekend. The words echoed in her skull like a taunt. She hated how they hit her. Hated how she couldn’t just be happy.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the couch.

“God,” she muttered.

The image of Tyler in all his boring glory floated into her brain again. She groaned. That guy? That guy was the one Azzi picked to date? Not that it mattered. It wasn’t about Tyler. It was about Azzi smiling up at someone else. Letting someone else in. Sharing the parts of her that used to be just for Paige.

Paige’s chest ached in a way that felt ridiculous, even to her. She was being pathetic. They were friends. That’s it. That’s all it had ever officially been. But no matter how many times she told herself that, her heart didn’t get the message. It still wanted her.

It wanted the girl who fell asleep in her arms, who whispered into her chest like it was the safest place in the world. It wanted the look Azzi gave her across crowded rooms, the quiet comfort, the heat in the silence between them.

Paige clenched her jaw and tossed her phone to the far end of the couch like it had personally betrayed her. She curled into herself, arms wrapped around her knees, and let the silence press in. It was heavy. And familiar.

You’re just her best friend.

That truth hit harder than it should.

“Alright, let’s go out” Amari breaks through her spiral as she sits down by Paige on the couch and pats her leg.

“I’m not feeling it” Paige mumbles and picks at a frayed piece of her sweats.

“Yeah, that really isn’t an option. You have been ignoring everyone and moping, we just want you to get your mind off of whatever has you so worked up” Amari explains growing gentler by the end.

“Did KK put you up to this?” Paige mumbles after a moment of silence. Amari just laughs and shoves her shoulder.

“No, anyone with eyes can see your true feelings and how much this is eating you alive. No one is down with the self-deprication” Amari smirks and Paige just playfully glares.

“You have twenty minutes to get ready before I drag you out in whatever clothes you are in” Amari stands up and heads to the kitchen.

Paige went to her room and got around. She threw on a white cropped tank with a cream colored set of cargo pants and an undone short sleeve button up. She threw her hair up in a slicked back bun and put on some chapstick. With a quick look in the mirror, she was grabbing her phone and heading out to the living room.

Amari was standing there with a smirk along with Caroline and Aubrey. Paige just shakes her head with a smile. The group exits the dorm without pause and an Uber is waiting for your group.

The ride to the bar was mostly filled with off-key singing and laughter. Paige felt her mood lifting and was actually looking forward to the evening. By the time they got to Ted’s, Paige was even singing along to some song she barely knew the name of let alone most of the words.

The girls got out of the Uber and hurried in to order drinks. The unspoken rule was that the last person to the bar rail would order the drinks. Unfortunately, tonight that person was Paige. She handed her card over to the bartender to start a tab for her friends who would most certainly take advantage of the tab.

When she finally had their drinks, she walked over to a small table off to the corner that her teammates tended to settle in. She handed out drinks to the girls who had begun getting Snapchat stories of their off-key singing. Paige smiles out at her friends.

“Alright, real talk, what is going on?” Caroline stared at Paige, “I know it is supposed to be a fun night, but how can I have fun if my people are not taken care of?” Amari and Aubrey also shift their focus to Paige who stares down at her drink moving the straw around quietly.

“I wish I could say there was something, but there really isn’t” Paige shrugs not meeting the eyes of her friends.

“There must be something. You have been moping and walking around with enough angst to rival Lana Del Rey” Caroline points out.

“Look, if you are scared to tell us something is or was going on with Azzi, we won’t judge” Amari offers and that does make Paige look up.

“Nothing has gone on with her. We are friends. I can think or feel whatever I want, but at the end of the day we are friends” Paige states before pausing, “plus, she has a date this weekend.” Paige takes a long drink with a wince. She feels her friends gazing at her sympathetically which is not what she wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Paige” Caroline softens and reaches out to rub her thumb across Paige’s hand.

“Man, that blows. I am so sorry” Aubrey offers in her direction and Amari just has a sympathetic look that makes Paige’s skin crawl.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Paige lightly pulls her hand back, “we’re friends. Friends are happy when their friends are going on dates and getting some.”

Paige winces at the way her voice cracks at the end and Amari merely snorts.

“Alright, new rules for tonight!” Caroline announces, “We are getting fucked up and not talking about anything related to any of our other teammates” she holds up her drinks and everyone clinks their glasses together.

Paige smiles at her friends. She was immensely grateful for their support and willingness to get her mind off of things she couldn’t quite put into words.

After settling into their table for much longer than she would’ve liked, Amari pulled her friends over to the middle of the floor where college students were starting to fill in. The music has gotten louder since they arrived and they could feel the bass beneath their feet.

Bodies were pressed up against each other and careless thoughts were thrown around by voices both too quiet and too loud to be heard. The environment was nauseating, overstimulating, and exactly what Paige needed. Paige didn’t even mind the constant pressure on her body as people bumped into her and her friends.

At some point, she noticed her friends starting to get fidgety. Thinking it was time for another round, Paige leans in to announce that she is getting drinks and Aubrey quickly reaches out to grab her wrist.

“Paige, we’re good” Amari quickly gets out and Paige shrugs it off with a smile. She turns around and her heart catches in her throat.

Across the room she saw Azzi with her arms around that guy's neck and his on her waist. She was smiling up at him and Paige was ready to be sick. Her heart dropped and she turned back around to her friend group with her face dropped. Her body had turned away quickly like the sight had burned her.

“P,” Caroline reaches out and Paige just forces a smile and shrugs slightly rolling her shoulders.

“No, no. I am good,” Paige smiles, “for real. I’m good. I am just going to go grab our drinks and I’ll be back.”

Paige turns away before anyone else can say anything. As she walks away she swears she hears her heart in her ears and feels her eyes glossing over. She felt like such an awful friend being upset. With a few deep breaths, she walks to the bar and orders another round.

The bar crowd blurred as she moved, one hand on the counter, the other clutching her phone like a lifeline. Someone slid up beside her, a girl with too much perfume and the wrong smile. Paige didn’t even blink.

“P!” Paige freezes recognizing that voice anywhere. She gives herself only a second before turning around to see Azzi with a smile so bright it only burnt what Paige was already feeling.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Paige says through a forced smile.

“Tyler wanted to go out and celebrate the win we had, so we decided to meet up even before our date” Azzi excitedly explains, pointing over her shoulder and stepping forward, “he is really nice, I think you’ll like him!”

Paige takes a step back which presses the bar railing into her back. She wanted to smile. To mean it. But all she could do was nod and hope her voice didn’t betray her.

Azzi invades Paige’s space and hugs her once before waving and running back to Tyler who had a grin so big on his face you would’ve thought he won the lottery. Paige wanted to punch him. Azzi was so much better than any lottery and she deserved the whole world delivered on a silver platter.

“Here you go” the bartender slides four glasses in her direction and quickly rushes off to other college students.

Unknowingly, Caroline had joined Paige and grabbed two drinks that were sitting out in front of her. Paige didn’t say anything, just nodded in her friends’ direction and turned away heading back through the crowd.

“Hey guys, I closed my tab and I think I am going to head out” Paige mumbles as she sets the drinks down on their table.

“Come on, P. We’re really worried” Caroline offers as she settles back with the group.

“I’m good. Just tired and not really feeling it” Paige gets out and the lump is back in her throat threatening to spill over and into that dangerous territory where her feelings are real and she has to acknowledge them.

Caroline just sighs but Aubrey nods understanding that she needed space. She reminded Paige to give them a call if she needed anything and then reluctantly let Paige leave.

Paige stepped out of the bar and let the cold chill of silence settle deep into her bones. Her dorm was a twenty minute walk from the bar, but she figured there was no better time to sort through her head and breathe without the weight of curious eyes.

She had left her heart on the dance floor with her best friend. Best friend. The title stung as she thought it. The words stabbed further into her chest creating a devastation so deep. Her eyes were heavy with unshed tears as she saw her best friend’s face again in her mind, her smile up at that guy.

The line between friendship had always been a fleeting narrow thing. Now, Paige realized, the line had completely dissolved.

an: alright here is the unedited beast that i cannot look at any more without wanting to be sick ahhh. i wanted to have a better first chapter, but i literally had no time to write or revisit this. it is painfully short, but i promise you will get more in the upcoming chapters!!

Please repost, like, and leave your feedback! Thank you!!! <33

-- tea ★’*•.¸♡

#pazzi fic #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic #uconn wbb fic #pazzi fics #tea writing femme fics #paige x azzi #wcbb fic #paige bueckers angst #pazzi angst #azzi fudd angst

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respectthepetty · 14 hours ago

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I know you think having a gf thing is a joke and honestly I don't think it's a problem when bl actors have gfs or bfs, but they do get massive hate for that for real. do you know that new got so much hate for having a girlfriend? he still gets hate comments from toxic shippers that he should die for heart failure because he got heart problem? and that account that was hating on dunk was really pushing for hate. so of course it was the problem. the number one reason bl/gl actors get massive hate and death threats is literally having a gf/bf. it's a sad reality but i don't think you should treat it lightly.

I don't think this situation is a joke.

It -is- a joke.

And to show you how serious I am about this, I'm not even going to include images. This is just a giant wall of text.

Because outside of the BL-sphere, what are the repercussions of Dunk really dating a girl? What issues would he face if he was really straight? I'm going to skip over bisexuality because Lord knows half these fans don't even register that as a thing. So what harm would come his way if he was an actual heterosexual man?

Nothing. None. Nada.

If he was dating a girl, it would hurt his branded pair, but he could pivot. He could still work in other roles outside of the pair which he has done because being straight or being perceived straight isn't an issue. He would still have a job. He could even do something else outside of the industry. He'd be fine.

Because the issue isn't Dunk having a girlfriend. The issue is him stepping out on his branded pair because people are real weird about monogamy, especially when it comes to two boys because queerness actual queer people are scary to them.

So since you wanted to start with Tay and New, let me remind you that New get threats for having a girlfriend, but when Gun and Tay kissed during New's live, people went out of their way to call Gun, who is perceived as the more effeminate one, a straight up fag in the comments of his posts. Tay also got so much hate that he made a video and people's biggest issue was how could he go from such a masculine guy like New to such a twink like Gun who has never stated his sexuality. Because the issue wasn't Tay 'cheating' on his partner (with the partner literally being right next to him), but was the possibility of Tay kissing an actual gay guy.

Milk of MilkLove was rumored to be dating Noeul of BossNoeul and both of them received online hate at the mere thought they were breaking up their ships, but Noeul has received far more online and in-person hate once he started dressing and presenting a bit more effeminate than previously.

Freen of BeckyFreen was dating Seng formerly of BillySeng. The hate was ridiculous and it has followed Seng even after he departed from Idol Factory, which can easily be seen in the comment section of his posts. I genuinely feel bad for the boy, yet he still is working.

So you know who I do feel bad for all of the time? Publicly out queer folks in this industry!

Max of MaxTul dates women. People knew that and hated it because he was 'cheating' on Tul. But he still had work, and he still has work now. Because being straight does not harm people. Online hate is real. Cyberbullying is real. But Max could pivot if he wanted to like Nanon, Bright, and Win. But you know who never said he was dating anyone? The actual gay guy, Tul! And who retired from acting before he announced he was dating a man? Tul.

Cooheart has gone on record stating that being an openly gay man in the BL industry has severely limited his options. He will not be able to play a straight character because people know he is gay, so the online harassment he receives isn't because of not being faithful to a branded pair, but because he is actually gay, and that harassment has translated into him getting less jobs. He cannot pivot. He is essentially stuck.

When Supanut was hanging out with Sailub, he received more online and in-person harassment because he is the openly queer man. Sailub received comments that he was disrespecting Pon per the usual, but Supanut received comments that were directed not at him just trying to break up a ship, but about him being queer. People were equivocating him to being basically a gay hussy, who just wanted to wreck all the ships, which makes me very interested in what fan interactions will look like once I'm the Most Beautiful Count airs.

Daou gets lots of comments about disrespecting Offroad by hanging out with other guys, but the comments that really upset him were the ones saying HE WAS DISGUSTING FOR POSSIBLY BOTTOMING! Offroad stays quiet mostly, but he was bothered by people saying he was BULKING UP TOO MUCH AS A QUEER MAN!

I'm not even touching Mew and Gulf, but only one of them was labeled a predator and it wasn't the straight one!

So just because some of y'all want to take Joong liking a post about Dunk having a girlfriend seriously does not mean I need to. The online harassment is disgusting because people have parasocial relationships with actors who are simply doing their jobs, but I am not going to sit here on Tumblr dot com slash Respect the Petty and entertain this made up drama that stemmed from Joong liking a post about Dunk being perceived as a straight guy when openly gay people are being significantly more harassed, targeted, and limited for being gay in an industry that profits off of gayness.

Take all this energy you have for me and meet me in the My Sweetheart Jom chat on Friday, so every time someone mentions how Saint isn't believable in his role because he is a 'bottom,' you can give them the same lecture you want to give me about the seriousness of online harassment and its real-world repercussions.

Kay? Okay!

#it has to be a joke #because this only has consequences in a small space #being straight is not a threat #calling someone straight is not hate #it's manufactured bs #but being openly gay and getting harassed for it is serious #so I'm picking my battles #and being upset over joong x dunk divorce era 2.0 ain't it #toxic fandom

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