#this was in my drafts for. a while now....

[randomshyperson]

darling, can I be your favorite? - wanda maximoff x reader

summary: A game night at Agatha’s takes a chaotic turn when an old truth surfaces - one that Wanda didn’t expect, and one you thought had been buried by time. Sometimes, even the deepest love begs to be reassured.

warnings: jealousy; mentions of past sexual relationships; possessive behavior; magic-fueled argument; emotionally charged sex; explicit smut; fingering; oral sex (f receiving); praise kink; possessive!Wanda; soft aftermath; emotional vulnerability; affectionate teasing; pillow talk; mild angst with comfort; canon divergence. | words: 4.730k

a/n-> I wrote this as a draft, a couple of weeks ago, when I was going through a very intense Agatha's obsession period, and I totally forgot about it. I was not sure I would use it in a bigger fic because I do want to write immortal, vampire, etc y/n's, but since I didn't, you guys can read it while I work on the upcoming series.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

"Have you ever slept with my wife?"

The question fell like a thunderclap in the middle of a warm evening.

Silence followed it - dense, choking. Even the soft creak of the porch swing seemed to hold its breath.

You froze, arm still slung casually behind Wanda’s chair, the other hand mid-motion with the wine bottle tilted at a precarious angle. Agatha, across from you, mirrored your stillness, eyes wide, glass of red paused just shy of her lips.

Oh, you should’ve known. This was a terrible idea.

Go out with the witches, they said. Catch up. Share a drink. Invite the literal embodiment of Death, what could possibly go wrong?

It was supposed to be a pleasant night. Drinks on the porch, old stories, the comfort of familiar magic humming softly in the twilight air. But among the four of you, it was always hard to tell who had the sharpest claws - or the most fragile ego.

Your gaze flicked briefly to Wanda, who hadn’t moved. Her hand rested lightly on her thigh, but the tension in her knuckles betrayed her. Her eyes were locked onto Agatha with a heat that could’ve ignited the vineyard around you.

Of course, Agatha was the first to recover. That self-satisfied chuckle of hers was the sound of a match striking.

“What?” she said, tossing her curls over one shoulder like this was just another girls’ night and not a potential crime scene in the making. “Sweetheart, what kind of question is that?”

But Wanda didn’t blink. Her tone was even, and that was far more dangerous.

“A simple one, Aggie.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers on her stomach with rehearsed calm. “Did you two ever sleep together?”

You sucked in a slow breath and, with a tight-lipped smile, retracted your arm from behind Wanda’s chair. The bottle met the table with a soft clink as you moved the wine glass slightly out of reach. Your laugh - dry and brittle - escaped before you could stop it.

“Maybe we’ve had enough to drink for tonight. We should probably - ”

“We’re not leaving,” Wanda interrupted sharply, still staring at Agatha, “until she answers.”

You shifted in your seat, mouth already forming another protest when Rio spoke. Her voice was deceptively calm, but the gleam in her eyes was anything but.

“She?” she asked slowly, arms folding on the table, one brow arching. “What, Y/N can’t answer for herself? Or are you implying Agatha would… what? Force something? Be the only one to blame?”

“I didn’t say that,” Wanda replied coldly.

The atmosphere cracked - subtle, like a shift in the wind before a storm. You could feel it, static in your blood.

And then, Wanda turned her head toward you.

"So?" she asked, voice softer now, velvet over steel. “Tell us, darling - did you and Agatha ever sleep together?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked, maybe a little desperately, at Agatha, who, naturally, had decided to abandon ship entirely. That traitorous witch was lounging back, a slow grin tugging at her lips. She didn’t even bother to hide it. Especially not when Rio’s left hand slid beneath the table and gave her thigh a slow, possessive squeeze.

You watched it happen. You felt it happen. And still, you were the one on the spot.

“Go on,” Rio said, her voice like dark honey. “Tell us if you fucked my wife.”

Your chair scraped loudly against the wood as you stood up, hands raised, gesturing wildly.

“Okay, no - this is a goddamn trap. I’m not stupid. I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, why so jumpy?” Wanda asked, a chuckle breaking through - but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s just a silly little question. We’re all friends here.”

“Debatable,” Agatha muttered under her breath. No one acknowledged it.

You laughed again. Hollow. “Nice try.”

“Darling,” Wanda said again, the smile falling away now. Her voice was raw silk. Dangerous. “Answer. My. Question.”

You sighed deeply, raking your hands through your hair. “I’m three hundred years old, Wanda.”

She arched an unimpressed brow. “That’s not what I asked.”

You groaned. Crossed your arms.

“You know I’ve been with other people before I met you.”

Her voice dropped. “Yes. Other people. But that’s not what I asked, either.”

You turned your eyes to Rio, who hadn’t blinked once since the start of this witch trial. She looked positively serene in her menace.

“I…” your throat tightened. “I want to go home.”

Wanda sighed, low and tight. “Darling, I swear - ”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Agatha snapped, standing abruptly, chair legs screeching against the wood. “Yes, Maximoff! Yes, we slept together. A hundred times. For fun. Out of boredom. Just because we could.”

The air trembled as her voice rose, the kind of voice that could split spells in two.

“You have no idea what eternity feels like, alright? We were friends and - what's the word the young ones use now… fuckbuddies, yes? That. We were that. Long before she decided to cross the ocean and play superhero. Then she met you. It's all good. It never meant anything like what I have with Rio. Or what she has with you. So, really, what are you even doing?”

The explosion was literal.

It happened fast. Magic burst like shrapnel. Spells lit the porch in violent flickers. Furniture launched into the air - an end table shattered against the railing, and you ducked just in time to avoid a cursed candlestick flying past your head.

You weren’t even sure who was fighting whom. At one point, you’re almost certain Wanda and Rio turned on each other, until Agatha yanked her wife out of the chaos with a flash of smoke and a hissed incantation. In the confusion, Rio still managed to catch your arm with a glancing slice - a clean little souvenir.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. Just a muttered curse, a strained wave, and the metallic scent of blood on your sleeve as you guided your very pissed-off wife back to the car.

Wanda didn’t speak the whole drive home. Arms folded tight across her chest, lips pressed in a silent pout, gaze locked out the window. You just shook your head the whole way, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, trying to remind yourself that this was fine. That this wasn’t the first magical brawl you’d had to walk away from, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

The boys texted, cheerful and blissfully unaware. Billy, ever the optimist, had been the one to suggest the “moms’ night out.” A bonding experience. Something soft. Easy. He hadn’t accounted for jealousy spells and poorly buried history.

You replied simply:

“All good at Agatha’s. Hope your night was fun too. Love you.”

The house welcomed you with silence. The kind that echoes in corners and stretches across old wooden floors. You locked the door behind you, Wanda already halfway up the stairs without so much as a glance back. Her coat slipped off her shoulders and vanished midair with a lazy flick of magic.

You sighed.

Dropped your keys in the bowl by the door. Followed.

Neither of you spoke as you peeled off your clothes - the remnants of what was supposed to be a cute little night: soft slacks, silky blouses, the faint smell of wine and sandalwood still clinging to the fabric.

It was only once you were both half-undressed in the bedroom, the moonlight casting gentle patterns across the bedspread, that you couldn’t take her silence anymore.

“Wanda,” you said, voice low but sharp. “Can we talk about tonight?”

She stood with her back to you, fingers slowly working the buttons of her blouse. Her voice came clipped. “There’s nothing to say.”

You huffed a dry laugh, arms crossed loosely as you leaned against the edge of the dresser. “For you, maybe. You’ve been ignoring me since we left.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” she replied flatly. But she avoided your eyes.

You shot her a look that said really? And she sighed again, softer this time.

“I was thinking.”

You shifted your weight, still watching her. “I don’t like the silent treatment.”

She chuckled bitterly. “And I don’t like that you slept with our friend. But, you know, that’s life.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, tugging your shirt off in one fluid motion and starting to work on your zipper. “This is absurd. You know that, right?”

“I quite agree,” she said dryly, snapping her gaze away from your exposed skin the second your shirt hit the floor. She turned, flustered, fingers unhooking her bra with brisk determination.

“I’m talking about you, Wanda,” you muttered, voice rising a little. “Getting worked up over something that happened a century ago.”

She barked out a sharp laugh and opened the closet, pulling a nightgown with far more force than necessary. “Worse,” you added, “over something that meant nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, eyes narrowed. “It meant nothing. Yet you did it. Hundreds of times, apparently. Just for fun. Like she said.”

“I didn’t even know you back then!” you snapped, incredulous.

The room pulsed with heat - part frustration, part something else, quieter and more tender. You hadn’t wanted to yell. But there was something under her sarcasm that stung. A crack in the armor.

She didn’t answer right away. Her jaw tightened, and she turned slightly, clutching the fabric of her gown as if it might shield her from this conversation entirely.

But she just gives a short, breathy laugh - a sound too bitter to be real - and shakes her head as she steps out of her pants.

For a fleeting second, the weight of the fight evaporates. There she is. Your wife. Bare but for her dark panties, her body bathed in the soft light coming through the curtains.

And you forget how to be mad. You forget the argument.

Until she turns back toward you, and her eyes, glassy and red at the edges, stop you cold.

The frustration in your chest vanishes instantly. You straighten, step forward, and your voice softens like instinct.

“Darling,” you say, barely above a whisper, your hands cradling her cheeks, “why are you crying?”

She sniffs, lashes fluttering as she tries to blink the tears away. Her gaze avoids yours, but she leans into your touch like her skin remembers you better than her pride does.

“If you don’t talk to me,” you murmur, brushing your thumbs along her cheekbones, “how am I supposed to make it better?”

Her hands rise to your forearms, light and hesitant, like she’s not sure if she’s allowed this comfort. Her cheeks are flushed, and for a long moment, all she does is breathe unevenly.

Then, finally, her voice cracks through the quiet.

“Three centuries is a long time, Y/N,” she begins, barely audible. “I’ve only known you for seven years.”

You don’t interrupt. You just listen.

“I know it’s silly, I know,” she continues, voice wavering, “but… you and Agatha have this thing. This rhythm. This history. She’s always throwing it in my face - how well she knows you, how she can predict you, finish your thoughts. And she’s so - so aggravating about it.”

She laughs weakly, then sniffles again, eyes still not quite meeting yours. “And I just… I’m afraid I’m never going to get there. That I’ll always be this late chapter in your life. That I’ll never matter as much.”

Your heart aches at her honesty.

“Oh, Wanda,” you breathe, pressing your forehead to hers. “That’s not true. That’s not true at all.”

She closes her eyes when you kiss her temple - soft, slow, reverent. Then you pull her close, wrapping your arms around her, grounding her in your warmth.

“I love you so much,” you whisper against her hair. “You know that, don’t you?”

She shakes her head, just barely, and your hands gently guide her face back to yours.

“I do, Wanda. I love you a terrifying amount. And yes, Agatha and I have history. But she’s not more important than you. Just like I’m not more important than Rio.”

Your fingers trace calming circles along her waist as her breathing begins to even out.

“We do love each other - Agatha and I - but it’s a different love. Yes, we had sex. But we never made love. We never broke the laws of nature and brought life into the world like she did with Rio. And I’ve never loved someone like I love you.”

Her eyes search yours now, uncertain and wet. You hold her face again, more firmly this time.

“I’ve lived for centuries, Wanda. But it’s only with you that I’ve felt truly alive. Happy. Like I belong somewhere.”

You kiss the corner of her lips, soft and slow.

“I don’t know where these insecurities came from,” you murmur, brushing her tears away with your thumbs, “but I’ll spend every day proving you wrong. Every single day, I’ll remind you how loved you are. What do you say to that?”

Your attempt at lightness breaks the tension just enough. She lets out a teary little laugh and bumps her forehead gently against yours.

“I say…” she whispers, voice trembling, “you better start now.”

She leans in first, lips brushing yours without urgency, just breath and warmth and something far too tender to rush. You both stay like that for a while - nose to nose, hands resting lightly on bare skin, letting the quiet carry all the weight words couldn’t.

When your hands begin to move, it’s with a slowness that almost feels sacred. You know exactly where to touch - where her skin burns hotter, where she arches, where she melts. Your fingers trail down her back, pausing just long enough to tease, before pressing into her hips and lifting her effortlessly into your lap.

She doesn’t stop kissing you - deep and unhurried, her tongue moving against yours with the kind of longing that makes your bones ache. She moans softly when you break the kiss just long enough to ask:

“Shower or bed?”

But the way she clutches your jaw and kisses you harder is answer enough. You're lucky you made it as far as the bed.

She falls back against the mattress with a gasp, her hair fanned out like a halo in disarray. You move to follow, but she tugs you down with her, mouth never leaving yours, legs wrapping tightly around your waist.

The friction when your bodies align makes both of you shudder. Clothes half-on, half-off, hearts racing, and breath hitching.

You look down at her - cheeks flushed, pupils blown, lips kiss-bruised - and think this is what eternity was always meant to feel like.

Your lips trail down Wanda’s throat, lingering at the base where her pulse jumps under your mouth. Her fingers tangle in your hair, her legs tightening around you with a quiet urgency she hasn’t put into words yet.

She’s warm, flushed, her skin humming under your palms. Every breath she takes is just a little shakier, a little more desperate - and it draws something low and primal from inside you.

You kiss along her collarbone, slow and reverent, until her breath hitches and she arches up to meet you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper against her skin, your voice already rough with want. “So, so beautiful, Wanda…”

She exhales shakily, but instead of softening, something sharper slips into her expression. Her hand cradles your cheek for just a second, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, and then she says - quiet but certain - “I want you to forget her.”

You blink, breath catching.

She leans up to kiss you - not gently, this time, but deep, wet, almost possessive. Her fingers clutch at your sides, pulling you tighter against her until there’s no air left between your bodies.

“I want to be the only one you remember,” she whispers into your mouth. “The only one who ever made you feel like this.”

Her hips roll up against yours, grinding with slow, aching precision, and the friction makes you gasp.

You answer with your hands, gripping her thighs, pushing them apart just a little further. Her panties are soaked, clinging to her, and the heat of her against you makes your whole body throb.

“You are,” you breathe, your voice uneven. “You already are, Wanda - fuck - there’s never been anyone like you.”

But it’s not enough. Not for her.

“Then prove it,” she says.

Her fingers curl into the waistband of your underwear and tug - insistent, wordless. She strips you down without hesitation and pushes her own panties off in a single, impatient motion. The moment you’re bare, she pulls you into her again, gasping at the skin-to-skin contact, her legs locking around you like she needs to keep you there, tethered, owned.

“Say it again,” she whispers, her mouth at your ear now, her nails dragging lightly down your back. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” you murmur into her hair. “God, I love you.”

Your hand slips between you, fingers finding her soaked and aching. She shudders as you circle her clit, your strokes slow and deliberate. Her hips stutter, trying to chase more, but you keep the rhythm steady.

She whines in frustration and grabs your wrist.

“Inside,” she pants. “Now. I want you inside me.”

You oblige - because how could you not? You push in slowly, letting her stretch around you, savoring the way her breath trembles and her eyes flutter closed.

She gasps when you're fully inside her, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as if anchoring herself to this moment, this feeling.

“You feel so good,” she moans, her voice breaking into a breathless laugh. “So good - better than anyone else, right?”

You thrust slowly, deliberately deep. “Wanda…”

“Say it,” she demands again, her voice strained. “I want to hear you say I’m better than her.”

Your breath catches as you rock your hips into her again, and she tightens around you at the praise in your voice.

“You are,” you groan. “You’re better. The best. No one’s ever made me feel like this.”

She moans, high and desperate, nails digging into your back now, and you love the way she falls apart when she feels worshipped.

You keep the pace slow but deep, driving into her with just enough power to make her eyes roll back. She keeps clinging, gasping, her legs wrapped tight and her lips seeking yours over and over like she’s scared you’ll disappear.

“You're mine,” she says through gritted teeth, her voice raw. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, thrusting harder now. “Only yours, Wanda. Always.”

Something breaks in her then. She pulls you down into a messy, desperate kiss, hips jerking against your hand in time with your rhythm. You can feel her building - her walls fluttering, breath hitching, thighs trembling.

“Don’t stop,” she cries. “Don’t stop, don’t stop - ”

You don’t. You couldn’t if you tried.

Her release crashes over her like a wave - her whole body arching, a broken moan leaving her throat as she clings to you like she’ll drown without your touch.

You groan against her neck, the world blurring around you both.

After, when you’re breathless and tangled and coated in sweat, she still refuses to let you go. Her fingers rest lightly on your spine, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, and her voice - softer now - fills the silence.

“I meant it,” she murmurs. “I want to be your best. Your only.”

You press a kiss to her temple, still catching your breath, and answer simply:

“You are.”

Wanda doesn’t wait this time.

The moment you’re fingers move out, she shifts you both on the bed, her thighs straddle your hips, and her fingers grip your wrists, pushing them into the mattress above your head. Her eyes - glassy, burning - search yours with something between a challenge and a plea.

“Let me,” she says, barely above a whisper. “Let me use you. I need to feel it.”

Your heart stutters. You nod. You’d give her anything.

Wanda kisses you - fierce, almost bruising - and she grinds down against your stomach, soaking and needy, desperate for friction. Her breath hitches, and she breaks the kiss just long enough to sit up on your lap. The sight is devastating - her flushed chest rising and falling, her thighs tight around you, her fingers trembling as she reaches between her legs to line herself up with your thigh.

She doesn’t ride your fingers. She doesn’t ask for your mouth.

She rides your body.

The slick heat of her folds drags along your skin as she rocks forward, her hands planted firmly on your chest. She sets the rhythm, grinding her clit against your hip bone like she’s chasing something she’s been denied for years.

You moan under her, completely helpless to do anything but watch her fall apart.

“I want to hear you,” she breathes, her voice already breaking. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” you manage to ask, breathless, utterly entranced by the way she moves - by the way her wetness smears across your skin, by the needy roll of her hips.

“That I’m better,” she pants, leaning down again, her mouth hovering over yours. “That I’m better than her. That you’ve never felt this way with anyone else.”

You blink up at her, stunned by the sharp ache in her voice.

Then you speak - raw and reverent.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, Wanda. No one’s even close. No one’s ever touched me like this, made me feel like this. It’s you. Only you.”

A sound leaves her throat - half gasp, half sob - and her pace falters for just a moment before picking up again, faster now. She leans into your shoulder, moaning as she grinds against you, desperate, frantic, like she’s trying to brand the memory into both your skins.

Her walls flutter around nothing, her clit dragging over the line of your hip, and you can feel how close she is - how badly she wants to come from this alone.

You free your hands from hers gently and cup her face, guiding her to look at you again. “Let me touch you,” you whisper.

She nods, dazed, panting. “Yes - God, yes - please - ”

You flip her with ease - just enough to roll her under you - and immediately settle between her thighs. She moans at the shift, at the sudden emptiness, but then you’re there - mouth warm, hands steady, tongue pressed flat and slow against her soaked folds.

Wanda cries out, her back arching off the bed.

You hold her hips still as you suck her clit into your mouth, slow and deep, and you swear she’s trembling already.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” you murmur, lips brushing her as you speak. “This is mine, Wanda. No one else’s. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to.”

She’s already shaking her head, eyes squeezed shut, too overwhelmed to answer - but you don’t stop.

You fuck her with your mouth until she’s begging. Until her fingers clutch at the sheets, then at your hair, and her thighs start to close around your head.

“I’m gonna - oh God, Y/N - fuck, I’m - ”

She comes with a choked moan, clit pulsing against your tongue. But you don’t stop.

You moan softly as you keep licking her through it - slower, deeper, dragging it out until her legs tremble violently under your grip.

“Too much - ” she whines, trying to squirm away, but you pin her hips down, unrelenting, drunk on the taste of her.

“You said you wanted me to never forget,” you murmur, tongue still working her oversensitive flesh. “I’m making sure of it.”

Her next orgasm builds too fast. It rips through her with a sob, her fingers tangled in your hair like she’s holding on for dear life. Her voice breaks open as she moans your name, high and hoarse and wrecked.

When you finally pull away, her chest is heaving, her thighs soaked and twitching, her body flushed all over like she’s burning from the inside.

You crawl back up to her, kiss her slowly, and wipe her tears with your thumbs again.

And when her trembling fingers cup your cheek, she whispers, raw and hoarse:

“Mine.”

You kiss the corner of her lips. “Yours,” you promise. “Always yours.”

The air is thick with heat and the scent of sex, but it’s the quiet that lingers most.

Wanda lies boneless against you, one leg thrown over your hip, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, lips parted against your skin as she catches her breath. You hold her close, tracing lazy shapes along her spine, the softness of her skin still slightly damp beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you rushes to speak. It’s a sacred kind of silence. The kind that feels earned.

Eventually, you feel Wanda shift - just enough to rest her chin on your chest and glance up at you with glassy, blissed-out eyes. She’s flushed and glowing, her hair a wild mess over her face, and you grin as you tuck a strand behind her ear.

“You okay?” you murmur, voice husky but gentle.

She nods slowly. “Better than okay.” Her smile is sleepy, but a little shy, too. “Did I… go too far?”

You blink, then laugh softly, lifting your hand to cup her cheek. “Wanda. That was hot as fuck. If that’s what jealous and possessive feels like, I might have to make Agatha say something smug more often.”

Wanda gasps and hides her face in your chest, groaning. “Y/N!”

You laugh louder this time, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

She mumbles something against your skin, clearly flustered, and you kiss the top of her head.

“But seriously,” you say, quieter now, “we didn’t cross any lines. You didn’t hurt me. I didn’t push too much?”

Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling against you with a soft sigh. “You were perfect. You always are.”

“Debatable,” you whisper with a crooked grin, earning a small swat to your side.

You let the moment settle again before you shift just slightly, enough to look into her eyes.

“I get it, you know,” you murmur. “I really do.”

Wanda frowns softly. “Get what?”

“The feeling,” you admit, your voice dipping into something more vulnerable. “Of wondering if someone else meant more. If you’ll ever measure up to something you weren’t part of.”

You pause. Breathe. Let the words come slowly.

“Sometimes I think about Vision. The Mind Stone. That… connection you two had. And the twins - before they were mine, before I got to call them ours. I wonder if I’ll ever compare to what you had with him. If you’ll ever look at me the way you looked at him.”

Her breath hitches, and you almost regret saying it. Almost.

But then she cups your face and kisses you - slow, deep, and full of something so real it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

When she pulls back, she presses her forehead to yours and whispers, “I’ve never looked at anyone the way I look at you. Never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You blink hard. Your throat tightens.

“He wasn’t my soulmate, Y/N,” she says. “He was comfort. He was safety. He gave me something when I was lost. But you… you found me. You brought me back to life. You’re the one who made me feel again.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just wrap your arms around her, tighter than before, and bury your face in her hair.

“I don’t care what fate or magic or some glowing rock decided,” she murmurs. “I choose you. Every time.”

Your voice is a little wrecked when you speak. “God, I love you.”

She smiles against your cheek. “I know.”

You pull back just enough to look at her again. “And just so we’re clear,” you add, grinning as you lean in close, your voice dipping with playful warmth, “you’re also definitely the best I’ve ever had.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, blushing to her ears. “Stop.”

“Never.”

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, tangled up in each other like vines, warm and safe and endlessly close. And even with everything unsaid still lingering in the shadows, what remains between you feels stronger than ever.

There’s no need to rush. Tonight, you’ve got time.

And tomorrow, too.

[maispourqouuui]

Tim, adding a box with "loss of an organ" onto the side of the bingo chart, then realizing there's two identical boxes now: Eh I don't care I'll just lose another one

Jason: You can't do that

Tim: It's my fucking bingo card what are you gonna d--

Jason: It's cheating

Tim: It's not a competition

Jason, while swiping out of the note on his phone with a draft of a name tag listing specific injuries that rogues fighting Red Hood could aim for: ... It can be

Tim: [blink] You think I could get my appendix to look like I've got appendicitis

Tim: Can you get it removed like just in case

Jason: I have no idea

Tim: Don't copy me

Jason: I am not about to cut myself open AGAIN for a bingo card

Batman: You've been increasing the risk of getting sprains by slightly readjusting your landing positions when you do parkour.

Red Robin: Lie

Batman: And you've been hiring assassins to target yourself.

Red Hood: Those are rumors; I would never ever do that. And if I happened to end up with an acute non-displaced rib fracture well I guess that's just the way the world works

Tim, to Jason over lunch: I made a bingo card for different injuries I bet I'll get this year

Jason: That's interesting. I might try that but I got this gnarly stab wound I don't want to go to waste so I think I'll count that

Tim: Well, it's 11 am the first of January, so, I'm assuming you got it last month and in that case no

Jason: I'm not fucking dumb I got it today

Tim: ... Okay

Jason: It's actually I think still bleeding but I haven't gone to Leslie's. I've been putting it off for like five hours

Tim: I thought that was ketchup

Jason: NOOO THIS IS MY FAVORITE HOODIE

[crystallizsch]

“Through all life’s sorrows and delight I’ll keep your laugh inside me.”

a companion to this i guess??? help??? i was thinking about them reminiscing about past memories-

+ i had how to train your dragon feels when i drew this,,, specifically bc of this song with hiccup's parents (i referenced the pose from the video <3)

[33lol]

Leg Day

Pazzi (paige x azzi)

SMUT

warnings: oral, fingering, scissoring, pet names, fluff, first time

wc: 2.4k

Being best friends for years now, Paige and Azzi have now moved in together to their new apartment after both being drafted to the same WNBA team.

One afternoon Paige is lounging on the couch in their living room when Azzi trudged through the door with a groan after coming from the gym.

“Ugh, my legs feel like Jello. I don’t think I can walk.”

Paige giggles at this, knowing Azzi to be a bit dramatic at times, but she loves it regardless.

Getting up from the couch, Paige walks over to the front door. “Get on my back, baby. I’ll carry you to your bed.”

Azzi felt a slight blush creep up her neck as this is a typical Paige thing to do. “No it’s okay I was being dramatic. You don’t have to carry m—”

Paige doesn’t even let Azzi finish her sentence before she scoops her off her feet and carries her bridal style to her room.

Azzi breaks into giggles hiding her face in the crook of Paige’s neck, “Paige! I said you didn’t have to!”

“I don’t care. My princess gets what she deserves.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi gets out through her giggles with no real bite to it.

Paige kicks the door open to Azzi’s room with her foot and throws Azzi on the bed like she weighs nothing.

“Do you want a massage mama?”

“Wait, actually?”

“I don’t kid around when it comes to the princess”

Azzi rolls her eyes while not being able to hide her smile, “That actually sounds amazing. It was leg and glute day and I may have overworked myself.”

Paige smiles and walks to get some lotion. “Lay on your stomach.”

Azzi listens and flips over while watching her best friend who knows how to always take care of her. She couldn’t help but feel her face get warm that this thought.

Paige comes back over and playfully smacks Azzi butt before she climbs on top of it to sit.

Azzi giggles once again and hides her face in the sheets. Paige smiles at her shy gesture but to ease Azzi’s mind a bit she leans over her to peck kisses all over her back. “Just relax okay?”

Azzi, while still in her daze, turns her head to the side to acknowledge Paige while she barely croaks out an “okay.”

Paige pumps the lotion onto her hands and rubs it between her hands to warm it up. She starts on Azzi’s back but realizes her sports bra is in the way of her getting everywhere. Paige freezes in her movements with her hands under her bra straps not knowing if she should ask if Azzi wants it off. Azzi feels the pause and senses Paige’s indecision. Without thinking much of it, Azzi lifts up just enough to tug off her sports bra.

Paige suddenly feels her face get red and can feel her heart beat faster. They’ve given each other massages before, but not to this level of intimacy.

The two have always been overly touchy with each other and have always used pet names. It has always just been an unspoken thing that their dynamic was different from anyone else.

Trying to focus again, Paige starts really getting into Azzi’s muscles.

As Paige made her way across Azzi’s back, Azzi let out small groans and “mm that feels so good” here and there. But when Paige hits a particular spot, Azzi lets out a soft whimper.

Azzi immediately hides her face in the sheets again, while Paige continues trying to ignore how that small noise her best friend just made had her stomach doing backflips.

Paige leans down near her ear and says in a low voice, “I’m gonna start on your legs, okay?”

“Mhm,” is all Azzi can get out while still hiding her face in embarrassment.

Paige gets more lotion and starts rubbing low on Azzi’s calves. Azzi continues letting out soft “mm’s” in acknowledgment of the power of how good Paige’s hands feel on her body.

When Paige gets higher onto her thighs, Azzi starts breathing a little heavier, trying to not think about the heat she feels pooling in her underwear. Paige remembers Azzi mentioning it was also glute day and knows she’s probably sore there too. She once again pauses below her shorts. Azzi again feels the pause and reassures, “It’s okay. You can touch me, you know that right?”

Paige felt her face go hot and her heart feel like it was about to explode. She huffs out a light giggle and says back, “Just trying to be respectful.”

“You always are.”

Paige can’t help the smile that crawls on her face when she hears that. She leans down to ask Azzi, “Shorts on or off?”

“Uhh…whatever is easier I guess”

Paige lowers her voice, “Is it okay if I take them off, Az?”

Azzi nods, “Yeah, P”

Paige hooks her fingers into the waistband of Azzi’s shorts and slowly slides them over the curve of Azzi’s ass. Paige heard Azzi’s breath shudder and felt her own slick start to pool.

“Is this okay, baby”

Azzi nodded with her face still hidden in the sheets. Paige leaned into her ear, “Can you use your words for me?”

Azzi tilts her head toward Paige to look at her, “Yeah.. you’re good P.”

Paige sees her face is flushed and thinks I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. Paige looks her in the eye and says, “You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Azzi nods at her but then sees the stern look in Paige’s eyes reminding her to use words. “Okay.”

Paige gives a kiss to Azzi’s forehead before moving back down Azzi’s body. When Paige reaches Azzi’s ass she starts kneading into the muscles while alternating with long squeezes. She notices Azzi holding her breath, but ignores it for now. Paige works her way to Azzi’s inner thighs. She slightly nudges at Azzi’s leg, signaling for her to spread them a bit wider. Azzi felt the most vulnerable she’s ever been with Paige.

Paige got pretty high on the inside of Azzi’s thigh, just shy of the place that is throbbing to be touched. When she massaged there, Azzi couldn’t help but let out a high, breathy moan. Paige felt more of that heat circle in her stomach. “Can I keep going?”

Azzi swallowed hard and let out her words in a higher tone than she meant for, “Yes”

Paige inched higher and then higher, listening to Azzi let out shaky breaths and soft whimpers, until she hovered her fingers right over Azzi’s slit covered by only her tiny black thong. Paige feels how wet Azzi is and immediately feels her own slick drip down her thighs.

Azzi let a small gasp escape her lips but didn’t stop Paige either.

“Is this from me, mama?

Azzi nods with her head still in the sheets from embarrassment.

“Azzi baby, I wanna hear you.”

Azzi lifted so she could rest on her elbows and look at Paige more directly, who was now looking slightly down at her while still not having moved her hand.

Azzi bit her bottom lip while looking at Paige’s big blue eyes that looked so full of love and care. “Yes it’s from you P.”

Paige felt her heart skip about ten beats before she moved her fingers over Azzi’s heat. Paige rubbed the wetness seeping through all around while still maintaining eye contact with Azzi. They both didn’t realize how close their faces had shifted until Paige felt Azzi exhale against her lips sharply with a whimper right after.

“Paige…”

“What mama?”

Azzi wonders if this is a dream or some insane coma she is in to be in this position. She sighs softly, “I need you so bad.”

Paige thought she’d never hear those words come out of Azzi’s mouth. She’d dreamt of it more times than she would admit, but never thought the day would come. “I got you baby. Can I?”

Paige hooks her fingers into Azzi’s thong asking to take it off.

“Yes please”

Paige smiles and gently flips Azzi onto her back so that she is in between her thighs. Azzi covers her face with her arm to hide her blushing. Paige moves her arm saying, “Don’t hide please. Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t be shy. Don’t be afraid. I want to see you—all of you. You are the most beautiful and sexy woman, Azzi”

Azzi whimpers at these words

Paige taps Azzi’s hip to have her lift up. She slides off Azzi’s underwear and rubs her hands along Azzi’s thighs. She takes in her best friend, whom she’s always thought was the most beautiful person alive for the first time like this in front of her. Paige reaches for her own shirt, exposing her toned stomach—where Azzi’s eyes immediately go. She then pulls off her sports bra, leaving her bare in front of Azzi. Azzi’s mouth falls open, lips parted, “Fuck Paige you’re perfect.”

Paige slides off of Azzi briefly to quickly tug off her boxers—leaving her completely bare. Azzi reaches for Paige to come back to her, “I want all of you, you’re so beautiful P.”

Paige blushes and leans down until their faces are inches apart.

“What do you want, Azzi?”

Azzi swears she could cum just from hearing Paige talk.

“I want you, P. I need you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Paige feels her heart break in a way from how desperate Azzi sounds—not in a guilty way— but in a way that makes her realize she wishes they had done this sooner.

Paige confesses, “I’ll give you whatever you want mama. I’d give you the world.”

Paige runs her hand over Azzi’s collarbone listening to her beautiful breaths, then moves slowly down her chest to take one of her nipple between her fingers. She leans down to suck on her tit while cupping the other one in her other hand.

Azzi arches into her and tugs Paige’s hair, keeping her head as close at possible.

Paige uses her tongue to flick and swirl Azzi’s nipple then pulling off with a popping sound. She moves to the other one, leaving a hickey while she’s at it. Paige looks up into Azzi’s glossy doe eyes and leans in to kiss her soft.

Azzi pulls away and throws her head back when Paige moves one of her hands in between Azzi’s folds and over her clit—running her fingers slowly but precise. Paige leans her head down by Azzi’s ear whispering sweet nothings,

“I want you to feel everything”

“I’ve never seen someone this beautiful”

“You are perfect in every way”

“So good for me mama”

“Relax baby, I got you”

Azzi closes her eyes at Paige’s worship, “Paige…”

“I know baby, just want you to feel appreciated. I want to take my time.. wanna savor you.”

Azzi moans at this, and in turn Paige dips two fingers into Azzi’s cunt, feeling her slick drip down her hand. “I wanna be the only one to have you like this. You’re mine.”

Azzi nods immediately and Paige starts pumping her fingers in and out of Azzi’s pussy at a steady rhythm. Azzi locks her eyes with Paige taking in the intimacy they are sharing for the first time.

“P you feel so good. You make me feel so good.”

Paige kisses down Azzi’s neck, under her jaw, biting her ear softly and leaving a wet trail from her tongue. “I love hearing you mama”

Paige pumps her fingers faster, curling in just the right spot to make Azzi arch hard into Paige’s chest. Azzi moans loudly into Paige’s ear and Paige groans from hearing how beautiful she sounds. Paige uses her thumb to circle Azzi’s clit with an addicting pressure while curling her fingers.

Azzi is rambling nonsense at this point,

“Mmphh P”

“Oh my god please Paige”

“Harder—please—ahh”

Paige lets out her own moans just from hearing Azzi beg.

Paige kisses Azzi hard letting her tongue linger for a second before kissing her way down Azzi’s body. Keeping her fingers inside Azzi, Paige licks where Azzi needs her most, giving a soft kitten lick to Azzi’s swollen clit now.

“Fuck—P”

Paige closes her mouth fully around the bud now and sucks hard while flicking her tongue across it. Azzi moans at a high pitch that makes Paige groan against her. While fucking her fingers into Azzi—curling them just right, along with the vibrations from Paige’s mouth, Azzi is right on the brink of her orgasm. Paige can sense Azzi is close to her release when her cunt starts tightening around her fingers. At this Paige pulls away slowly, kissing up the sides of Azzi’s thighs, not letting her release happen quite yet.

“What—“

“Shh baby, I got you. I just want to feel you, while you feel me when you come.”

Paige adjusts herself so she’s straddling her legs across Azzi’s to where she can line up their cunts. Paige holds Azzi’s legs open, with one braced on her shoulder. As Paige lowers herself, they both let out loud and aggressive moans. Azzi lets a tear fall from the overstimulation and her orgasm being drug out for so long, but at the same time it’s not enough. Their clits line up and Azzi is almost immediately right where she left off in her climax before. Paige has already been sopping wet and dripping herself just from getting Azzi off so she feels everything so fast.

It only takes Paige a few grinds and her leaning down to kiss Azzi before they are both cumming.

“Daddy—uhh—feels so good”

“I know princess I’m right there with you”

They feel each other’s cum on their own pussy, and look down at the mess between them. They can’t help but watch for a few seconds before Paige flops next to Azzi, pulling her in tight to her chest. “I meant what I said.. you’re mine.”

“I always have been”

“I love you mama”

“And I love you P”

“Wanna shower or just lay here for a bit?”

Azzi tucks herself further into the crook of Paige’s neck, murmuring “Mmm I can’t move”

Paige breathes a giggle and runs her hands down Azzi’s spine, “Okay baby, just let me love on you then”

Azzi smiles and hums and Paige kisses the top of Azzi’s head. The two drift off into the best sleep they’ve had in a while.

[norrisainz33]

get back || al50

summary: getting back with your ex is usually a bad idea right?

pairing: arthur leclerc x colombian!reader

fc & warnings: valé & poorly translated spanish, bad language and suggestive, you are responsible for the content to consume!

a/n: don’t love this one but it’s been sat in my drafts for a while and wanna clear it out! first ever arthur fic tho 😌

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 32,001 others

f1gossip: it looks like things might be over between arthur leclerc and long time girlfriend, y/n y/l/n. the couple, who were last seen together during the monaco grand prix, were reportedly spotted in a heated argument at dinner the following week. to add fuel to the rumors, y/n was noticeably absent from alexandra’s birthday party this past weekend which as you know, is a staple event in the leclerc's inner circle. i think this marks the end of one of the leclerc power couples. what do you think?

view all comments

user1: not y/n skipping alexandra’s party… yeah it’s OVER 💀

user2: no bc the way i KNEW something was off when he didn’t post her after the race

user3: NOT MY MOM AND DAD NOOOOO

user4: why am i taking this harder than my own breakups???

user5: whatever happened… im on y/n's side idc. arthur better tread lightly

user6: this is a hard one to take ill be honest...

user7 NOOOO i thought they were end game gtfo

ynuser has made a post

liked by iamrebeccad, itsyoungmiko, badbunnypr, lando, flavy.barla, alexandrasaintmluex, lewishamilton, and 325,677 others

ynuser: miss me yet?

view all comments

iamrebeccad: i do , i miss you so much my gorgeous girl

ynuser: i miss you more mi vida

user1: oh this abt arthur isn't it

itsyoungmiko: puedo tratarte bien cariño. [i can treat you right baby]

ynuser: sé que puedes [i know you can]

user2: the face card is LETHAL

isackhadjar: whoa 🤯

ynuser: 🤭

user1: isack said let me shoot my shoot now that she’s single

user3: body is coffee (tea wasn't strong enough)

alexandrasaintmluex: yes 💛

ynuser: i’ll come see you soon baby girl

user4: he fumbled so hard its sick

ynuser has posted to their private story

[your honor i’m just a girl 🥀]

view all story replies

yourbff: i’m gonna bop you over the head i recognize that apartment

ynuser: i may have like tripped and fell and ended up back in his bed

yourbff: y/n/n i’m so ….. oh my god!!! it can’t be that good

ynuser: but it is that good and maybe i miss him

yourbff: por que??????????!!!!!!!!!!!!

ynuser: i didn’t really want to break up with him.. all i wanted was for him to stop treating me like an afterthought to racing

yourbff: ok and he could commit to that!!! so why are you back with him

ynuser: UGH I DONT KNOW OK

lando: oh girl what is this

ynuser: please

lando: can’t you just go after isack who is hopelessly in love you with since this one isn’t

ynuser: isack is too sweet and perfect i don’t want to hurt him

lando: 🫩🫩🫩🫩

iamrebeccad: is that arthur’s apartment???

ynuser: i can’t confirm or deny that

iamrebeccad: brb you me and alex are going out tonight so we can discuss

alexandrasaintmleux: his house…. his shirt….. mon amour

ynuser: 😔

arthur_leclerc: so i’m back on the private story huh?

ynuser: don’t push it

isackhadjar: you’re so pretty 😍

ynuser: thank you isack 🤍

arthur_leclerc has posted to his story

view all story replies

user1: oh um

charlesleclerc: please tell me this is y/n and not someone else

arthur_leclerc: it is y/n/n don’t worry

user2: this better be my mother or you’re blocked

ynuser: now why would you post this

arthur_leclerc: i thought you liked seeing me on my knees doing things for you?

ynuser: ARTHUR

user3: i’m 99.9% sure that’s y/n she has those exact shoes and wore an outfit just like this yesterday

alexandrasaintmleux: have you apologized yet you idiot

arthur_leclerc: Y E S! many many many many times

alexandrasaintmleux: clearly not enough!!! grovel!!!!! yearn!!!!!

arthur_leclerc: what do you think i’m doing?!

user4: arthur mate…. tread lightly here. don’t think i won’t cut you off if this isn’t y/n/n

lorenzotl: when are you going to start listening to me. how many times have i told you that she’s the one?

arthur_leclerc: I KNOW!!!! i’m SORRY!!! i messed up 😭😭

user5: that should be meeeeeeee (or y/n)

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user2: WE ARE SOOOOO BACK!!!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: i’m so glad to have you back in the paddock with my princesa

ynuser: i’m glad to be back. i think this is where i belong 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: selfishly i very much agree with you

user4: nah red will forever be your color

yourbff: soy feliz si tú eres feliz [im happy if you are happy]

ynuser: gracias i am 😘

user10: por que mi amor [why my love]

arthur_leclerc: i’m so grateful to have you here with me. i love you to the moon and back mon amor and ill spend forever trying to prove that to you

ynuser: i love you too arthur so very much and i honestly always will

user22: we’ve lost her again chat

ynuser has made a post

liked by iamrebeccad, flavy.barla, yourbff, charlesleclerc, arthur_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 847,224 others

ynuser: you can take the girl out of ferrari but not the ferrari out of the girl sorry guys

view all comments

user2: all is right with the world again

iamrebeccad: i love seeing you smile

ynuser: you’re the sweetest 🤍

user3: i mean you can get rid of ferrari like im actively begging for you to do so but maybe dont get rid of arthur

arthur_leclerc: you’re stuck with me forever ❤️😘

ynuser: good 🤍😍

user9: mama y papa

yourbff: cutie pies

ynuser: that’s you

user20: love prevails again lfg

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[betty-fran]

#the campy queerness of k/s in particular and tos in general #is about queering conventions around gender performance as well as homoeroticism in itself and not only for vulcans #and the franchise has been especially craven about that and largely running hard from it since at least the wrath of khan #tos was such a revelation in 2024 and 2025 but i'm very glad i discovered it properly at last. great time for it honestly. (via @anghraine)

So I just discovered a cool conversation that spun off from one of my tag monologues on a gifset—I'd seen the initial tag peer review, but hadn't realized they'd gone further than that until @ladytharen tagged me. Yet again I didn't want to pester the original gifmaker too much, so I decided to respond separately to the part I found especially interesting.

For context, these were my original tags on the "This little thing? Just something I slipped on :)" Kirk captivity scene from "Tomorrow is Yesterday":

#captain gender strikes again! #i appreciate the read on this scene as 'captain kirk is a queer guy flirting with random 20th cent dudes holding him captive. bicon' #but personally my read is 'captain kirk is a queer guy deliberately leaning into effeminacy to fuck with hypermasc douchebros #from the very era in which the show was made irl. bicon' #it's definitely flirty but it is an aggressively feminine-coded flirtiness that's going to triply bother these kinds of guys #ngl i feel like kirk enjoys fucking with gender norms in all directions just because of who he is as a person (his true gender: diva) #but it's extra fun when it lets him troll ultra-military assholes neurotic about their own masculinity who are trying to intimidate HIM #(these guys aren't his type at all - christopher is much more that - but as usual that's not the point of the flirtation #k/s is nerd4nerd but also troll4troll)

I was really intrigued by this response from @mycroftrh, and thinking about it again on this inauguration of Pride month.

#yeah#in a certain context queerness and effeminacy are power#these are also unfortunately often the same contexts where queerness can get you hate crimed#but if you’re gonna be beat up/killed anyway…#you might as well make the homophobes maximally uncomfortable first

Yep, exactly. You can absolutely see the moment when he decides on exactly which side of his personality he's going to use for maximum effect on these gender policing, homophobic, ultra-military, paranoid bigots from the 60s:

I do think it's interesting that the full scene includes not only Kirk's bisexual chaos gremlin diva genderfuckery (enrichment for him!) but moments of fear and defiance:

He doesn't drop the flamboyance until he wants to, though. And the framing, lighting, angles etc only serve to emphasize their attempts to loom even more over him, aggressively get into his space, gesture right at his face to unsettle him, and his refusal to be intimidated by these fundamentally pathetic responses that are by no means free from real danger, just silly and contemptible nevertheless. It's not that he's too disdainful or amused at his own hijinks to understand how easily this could go very wrong. He simply has no respect for these men and enjoys leveraging their own hang-ups against them.

His eye make-up is also more than usually noticeable in the close-ups in this scene—even compared to other scenes in the same episode—which seems maybe not unrelated!

I think it's also worth pointing out that, TOS make-up aside, Kirk's navigation of gender performance in the original series is ... let's say, idiosyncratic. Most of the 23rd-century male characters are far more inflexible and singular about what gendered roles they're willing or able to inhabit. Kirk specifically is very deliberately fluid and versatile and theatrical about a lot of things, very much including gender performance and sexuality.

[prettymfwrites]

Paige x teammate reader please! I beg of you 😭😔

Yessss babes 🙏🏾 this was sitting in my drafts sorry ❤

---------------------------------------------------

💙 Paige Bueckers x Female Teammate!Reader Headcanons

(ft. UConn Team Shenanigans)

(Not proofread)

🥺 Protective Paige Mode™

Paige is usually calm and goofy, but the second someone fouls you too hard or gets in your face during practice or a game?

> "Back off, that’s my girl."

She’ll walk up slowly, real chill, and stare until the message is received.

You once got shoved hard going for a layup and Paige didn't even let the ref finish their call before she was checking if you were okay.

> "You good? Need me to handle her?"

Teammates joke that when you fall, Paige gets to you before the trainers.

---

📱 TikTok Addict x TikTok Hater

You are obsessed with TikTok. Paige? Not so much.

But she somehow ends up in all your videos... reluctantly.

You’ll catch her coming out the locker room and be like,

> “Okay babe do this dance with me, just the first part.”

Paige: “Baby I got on slides and no rhythm, don’t do this to me.”

One time you did a TikTok where she had to lip sync Megan Thee Stallion and she gave up halfway through and said:

> “Nah I can’t be sexy on camera like that, mama, my mom gon’ see this.”

Aaliyah, Nika, and Ice Brady are your hype squad. They love watching Paige get roped in.

> Aaliyah: "PAIGE did you just do the body roll?? Who ARE you??"

Paige: "I was held at gun point."

---

💘 Nickname Central

Paige lives off the nicknames. You never hear her say your government name unless it’s something serious.

> "Pass me the water, pretty."

"Yo babe, you left your slides in my locker again."

"You seen my charger, mama? You always take mine."

She’ll casually call you “baby” in front of the team and then act confused when they’re teasing.

> Nika: “Oop, baby??”

Paige: “What? I got a baby. Y’all just mad.”

---

🏀 Practice & Locker Room Moments

During scrimmages, Paige will purposely switch teams if you’re dominating too much just to guard you.

> "Nah nah, I got her. No one else touch her. This is personal now."

You once smacked her butt after hitting a shot on her and she dramatically flopped like she was fouled, yelling:

> “Ref! Domestic!”

Paige leaves little notes in your locker on game days like:

> “Go off, pretty. I got rebound duty today if you start missing.”

---

🛋 Lazy Days and Social Media Chaos

Y’all do ��get ready with me” TikToks before team events. Paige is in the background struggling to pick an outfit while yelling:

> “Babe, do I wear the hoodie or the other hoodie?”

You: “Neither. You’re wearing the sweater I picked.”

If you post a photo where she thinks you look too good, she’s in the comments:

> “Delete this rn before they start in the comments.”

And then texts: “You tryna make me fight air?? 😤”

---

💤 Post-Game Snuggles

After games, Paige likes to lie on your chest while you scroll on your phone. She pretends she hates the TikToks but lowkey enjoys watching you laugh.

> “You’re cute when you laugh, baby. Don’t change the vid yet.”

---

🏀 Jealous Paige at Practice

The gym echoed with sneakers squeaking and laughter as practice scrimmage started heating up. You’d been matched up against Jaylin, one of the newer players on the team, and let’s just say… she was being a little too friendly.

You hit a nice step-back three right in her face, and Jaylin smiled, holding her hands up.

“Okayyy, I see you,” she said, tapping your waist lightly. “We got a shooter on our hands.”

You laughed, brushing it off, not noticing the way Paige paused mid-dribble on the other side of the court.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

“Yo Nika,” she said slowly, still watching Jaylin, “Switch with me real quick.”

“Why?”

“I’ma guard Y/N.”

“But I’m—”

“Nika.”

“…Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow as Paige jogged over, sliding in front of you with that calm-but-lowkey-murderous expression she gets when she’s annoyed.

“Hi babe,” you grinned, dribbling toward her.

“Hey pretty,” she said, stealing the ball clean. “You flirtin’ today or just hoopin’?”

You snorted. “What?”

“Just wondering,” Paige replied, way too casually, passing the ball behind her back to Aaliyah. “You and Jaylin got some chemistry I ain’t know about?”

You stepped closer, grinning. “Ohhh, is someone jealous?”

“Jealous?” she tilted her head with a smirk. “Nah, I just think people need to keep their hands to themselves unless they paying rent.”

Aaliyah hollered from the sideline.

“NOT THE RENT LINE.”

Jaylin raised her hands. “My bad, Bueckers! I was just playin’.”

Paige nodded, smiling tight. “Play somewhere else.”

You covered your mouth to stop from laughing and leaned into her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous.” She winked. “Now come on, mama. I’m not lettin’ you score again unless you say I’m your favorite teammate.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Say it.”

“…Fine. You’re my favorite.”

“Louder for Jaylin in the back.”

“PAIGE!”

[homunculus-argument]

hey! i'm a trans man in russia who also changed his legal gender to male (back when you could still do that) and got out of the draft this way. since you've said that now being trans doesn't free men from mandatory service, i'm curious: are there any explicit protections for trans people within the army in finland, at least to your knowledge? what's the attitude among finnish trans people towards service - is it particularly dangerous, is it regarded as something to avoid or as a sort of moral duty, given finland's history and the current state of things? super interested to hear your perspective if you don't mind these questions, have a good day :)

I have never in my life heard of somene who's trans being scared for their own safety in the military training. I'm not saying that it doesn't happen, but I've never heard discussion about personal safety within service, and the thought hadn't occurred to me before. Finnish trans peoples' attitudes towards service are more related to gender and identity - military service is culturally regarded as just something that one does, one phase in every man's life. While being trans used to be a "free pass" medical diagnosis for skipping military service if you don't want to go because of trans reasons, plenty of trans men want to go anyway, because that's just something that's a part of every young man's life.

Not going through military service isn't regarded as particularly shameful in general population, but I've known far more men (cis and trans both) who were upset about not being allowed into service due to some medical issue, than ones who were wrangled through it against their will kicking and screaming. Mental health issues count as medical issues concerning military service, so if someone is absolutely terrified of having to go through basic training, you can be freed from peace-time service on account of anxiety.

Of what I've gathered, the worst threats in finnish peace-time military service are miserable weather and having to train side-by-side with an idiot. The thought of someone having to fear violence from their own peers in the barracks is so distant that the possibility literally had not occurred to me before you asked.

[delilaheilish]

JUST WANNA GET HER OFF 𓂃 billie eilish

⤷ dry humping, dirty talk, pet names, praise, multiple orgasms, dom!billie, kissing.

a wave of arousal washes over you as you watch billie, her bright eyes locked on yours with an unspoken challenge. the air is thick with tension and desire, the silence between you both broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing.

"cmere," she commands, her voice dripping with lust as she pats her knee, a devious smirk playing on her full lips. swallowing hard, you hesitantly move closer to her, your heart racing with both excitement and nervousness. as you straddle her knee, the rough denim of her jeans rubs against your soaked panties, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"good girl," she praises, her voice low and sultry as she begins to gently move her leg up and down, creating delicious friction between your throbbing pussy and her knee. "fuck...billie," you moan, unable to hold back your desire any longer. your hands grip her thighs tightly, your nails digging into her skin as you grind against her knee harder, desperate for more of that intoxicating sensation.

"that's it, baby," she groans, her hands moving to grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements. "show me how much you want it..” your breath hitches as you obey her command, moving your hips faster and harder against her knee. the rough denim of her jeans rubbing against your panties is enough to drive you wild with lust, your juices soaking through the thin fabric and onto her jeans.

"you like that, don't you?” she teases, her voice filled with dark promise. "you're so fucking wet for me, aren't you?" a loud moan rips from your throat as she thrusts her knee up against you, hitting that perfect spot inside you that has you seeing stars. your whole body shakes with the force of your building orgasm, your pussy clenching and unclenching in desperation.

"oh god...billie...i'm...i'm going to cum," you pant, your voice shaky with desire and need. "cum for me, baby," she growls, her voice low and commanding. "show me how much you love this." with a loud cry, you cum hard against her knee, your juices soaking through your panties and onto her jeans. you collapse against her chest, panting heavily as she strokes your hair gently.

"good girl," she whispers, a satisfied smile on her face. "go again." breathless and still trembling from your orgasm, you quickly straddle her knee once more. this time, however, she has a surprise in store for you. "take off your panties," she orders, her voice firm and commanding. "i want to see that beautiful pussy of yours."

without hesitation, you slip off your soaked panties, exposing your glistening pussy to her hungry gaze. a wave of arousal washes over you as you watch her lick her lips in desire. "fuck...you're gorgeous," she breathes, her eyes locked on your pussy. "now, ride my knee again. i want to see that perfect pussy of yours cum all over me.”

moaning loudly, you obey her command, grinding your pussy against her knee harder and faster than before. the sensation of her rough jeans rubbing against your sensitive clit drives you wild, your juices flowing freely onto her jeans.

"that's it, baby," she groans, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "keep movin’ those hips..." a loud cry rips from your throat as she thrusts her knee up against you, hitting that perfect spot inside you once more. your whole body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing as you cum hard against her knee.

with a satisfied smile on her face, billie eilish pulls you closer, her lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. as you kiss her back passionately, you both know this is far from over.

© delilaheilish

💌: surprise motherfuckers this has been marinating in my drafts for a while

[music4soul]

Nik is definitely someone who yearns. Like— on his knees, boohoo begging, puppy dog eyes yearning. And yes he knows his worth, knows that he’s worth more than two months worth of rent, but that all goes out the window one day when a fresh-faced Lt. Price sucker-punches him in the nose and makes him leak like a damn faucet.

And from that point on, he was in love.

Following the Lieutenant around like a lost puppy whenever he spotted him. Gifting him expensive things from different countries; watches, bracelets, chains, you name it. Found out what he liked to smoke and got him a year’s worth of cigars and what not(though Mac confiscated those as soon as he saw them). He even offered to buy him his own private jet when he found out about John’s car troubles(it was just that the AC was down. John declined but Nik still kept the offer open).

At first John found it a bit weird and tried avoiding Nik whenever he’d come around, not used to the attention he was getting and becoming suspicious of the Russian(years of failed relationships will do that to a person), but it wasn’t until one night when the two were outside smoking a cigarette that John brings up the topic of music, immediately interesting Nikolai as he names some of his favorite bands and artists that John also happens to to listen to.

The two bond over this simple topic, and for the first time Nik gets to see a side of John he never thought he’d have the privilege of seeing. Happy, ranting, nerding on about random and impressive facts he knew about each artist/band and even playing a song for Nik from his childhood(Nik files this song into his memory for when he proposes to the Brit someday).

And years later, every so often Nik will pull up the song on his phone and take John into his arms so the two could dance and sing and flounder about like two lovesick idiots reliving their youth(because deep inside, they are).

[nekonaps0]

Second years with a reader who's had a crush on them (separately) for some time now and instead of confessing just suddenly went for a kiss in an unexpected situation? (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

One kiss

✦gn!reader

✦characters: second years

✦you guys have so cutie ideas!!!! My heart can’t take it 🤌

Riddle Rosehearts

He was scolding someone again. Probably Ace. You were just standing there with him in the garden, listening to his lecture about hallway etiquette when you couldn’t take it anymore.

He looked so adorable when he was stern.

The way his cheeks puffed slightly.

The way he gestured with a gloved hand.

So when he turned to you and asked,

“Don’t you agree?” you leaned forward, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

His brain blue-screened.

You pulled away before he could react, wide-eyed at what you just did.

“I—I’m sorry, I—!”

Riddle stared at you, eyes huge and face blooming red.

“You…” he blinked, touched his lips, and whispered, “You kissed me.”

You flinched. “I—”

“…I… don’t mind with it… just please warn me next time.”

(Ace be like: 🧍‍♀️)

Ruggie Bucchi

You were both walking back to the Ramshackle, the sun low, shadows long. Ruggie was joking about how lazy Leona was and how he should start charging him extra.

You laughed. He was so comfortable, so real.

Then, without thinking, without planning, you reached up and kissed his cheek.

He stopped mid-step. He turned to you slowly.

“Uhh. Did I just—did you just—was that a kiss?!”

You were already walking ahead, heart pounding. “Maybe.”

“…awww, what the hell, you tryin’ to give me a heart attack?” He jogged to catch up, ears twitching and grin wide. “You really like me, huh?”

You looked away. “Depends.”

He chuckled, then threw an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t be shy now, you like mee….”

Azul Ashengrotto

You were both in the VIP room after a long shift. Azul was rambling something about finances, contracts, something clever and analytical.

You weren’t listening.

You were watching his mouth. And then, you just leaned across the desk and kissed him.

Right on the lips.

He froze. Like someone unplugged him.

You pulled away. “Sorry, I—uh—I’ve liked you for a while. B-But I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“…You just…” Azul pushed up his glasses, dazed. “That wasn’t part of the negotiation. I wasn’t… prepared for that variable.” His whole face turning red.

He cleared his throat. “Would you… be willing to draft a contract for that kind of affection? N-not that I’m demanding! I just—”


He stopped. And he look everywhere but you and he quietly murmured

“Can I kiss you back…?”

Jade Leech

It was quiet in the greenhouse. Jade was watering some rare mushrooms, humming.

He looked calm, mysterious, completely unaware that your heart was a hammer in your chest.

“Jade,” you said softly.

“Yes?”

You walked up, took his face in your hands, and kissed him, slow and shy.

He didn’t stop you.

When you pulled away, your breath caught.

He stared at you, expression unreadable, before his lips curved into a sly smile.

“My, what a rare specimen of courage. Did you know I like surprises?”

“W-Was that okay…?”

Jade stepped closer, lifting your hand to his lips.

“More than okay. But I’d like another demonstration… for scientific purposes, of course.”

Floyd Leech

You were stuck in the kitchen helping him with dish duty. He was being a pain. Splashing water. Complaining. Annoying you nonstop.

And yet… you adored him.

He was drying a plate when you suddenly said, “Floyd.”

“Huh?”

You stand up on your tippy toes and kissed him.

The plate fell and shattered.

Floyd stared at you like you’d grown another head. Then… A big, toothy grin.

“OH~, SHRIMPY, THAT WAS CRAZY. DO IT AGAIN!!”

He swept you into his arms and kissed you back, hard, before spinning you in a full circle.

“You’re mine now, right? RIGHT?? No backsies!” He chuckled

The dishes stayed dirty but now your lips are swollen~

Kalim Al-Asim

It was a warm day. Kalim was playing music on his tablet while humming, offering you juice, laughing brightly about something silly.

You were both dancing in his room, and you couldn’t stop staring at him. He spun, giggled, turned to you—

And you kissed him. Right in the middle of a laugh.

He gasped when you pulled away.

“WHOA!! That was—!! I mean—I liked that! Did you just kiss me?!”

You nodded, shy.

Kalim immediately pulled you back and kissed you again, giggling.

“Can we do that more?! That was like a festival surprise! You’re amazing!!”

Jamil Viper

You were in the kitchen, watching him slice vegetables with precise, practiced motions.

He was muttering about Kalim, about responsibilities, about how busy he was. And there you are couldn't stop looking at his lips.

So when he turned toward you to ask something, you just did it. You stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

Jamil’s eyes widened, hands stilling.

“…What was that for?” he asked quietly.

“I couldn’t help it. Sorry…”

He looked down, then let out a slow breath.

“…You really are troublesome.”

You looked away, but then… He gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you closer.

“…Next time, give me a little warning. So I can kiss you back properly.”

Silver

He was dozing off again in the woods, head tilted back, hair glowing in the sun.

You didn’t want to wake him. So you leaned in and kissed his cheek, light as a whisper.

He stirred, opened one eye.

“…Mm…Did you… kiss me?”

Your breath caught. “Maybe...”

He blinked slowly. Then he smiled.

“…Then I must be the luckiest knight alive.”

You laughed, flustered. “You’re not mad?”

Silver shook his head, soft and dreamy.

“No. But next time… let me hold you when you do.”

..............................................................................................................................

[wonio]

pretend ‎ ‎ ‎ ﹔ ‎ ‎ ‎simjaeyun

fem! reader ‎‎ ‎ ✴︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ fluff fake dating friends2lovers wc around 1.2k

"you don't have to hold my hand when no one's looking" you say it without looking at him, voice quiet, but jake hears it anyway. he doesn't let go. "i know," he says, like it means something else. like he knows exactly what he's doing. and maybe that's what messed with your head the most. how he's too good at this, how his hand never leaves yours, how he remembers your coffee order and always makes sure you're walking on the inside of the street, how he stares a little too long when you're not even dressed up, and say things like "you're really pretty, you know that?" you don't know if he's acting or not. you don't know if you want him to be. because it was supposed to be simple⎯help him get over someone else, pretend to be together for a while, laugh it off when it's done. no feelings, no confusion. but then it's his hoodie that you wear when you're cold. it's his fingers brushing hair out of your face. it's him whispering, "you okay?" at that party when you looked overwhelmed. you wish he didn't look so sincere all the time. like he really sees you. you're in his car now. parked somewhere quiet, with the windows fogged up from how long you've been sitting in silence. the city hums outside. his playlist plays low. and still, neither of you says anything.

he glances over. "you ever forget we're faking it?" you freeze. you don't answer. you don't have to. because when you look at him, he's already look at you⎯smile faint, eyes soft in that stupid, ruin⎯you kind of way. "i do," he says, like it's a confession that's been weighing on him. and it knocks the air right of you. not the words⎯but the way he says them. like they're the truth. your heart's loud in your ears. and then he looks away. hand still holding yours. "sorry." you should let go. you should say something that makes this easier. makes it safe again. but you don't. you squeeze his hand instead. it's quiet again. then⎯ "can i kiss you?" you blink. you turn, slow. the question just.... hangs there. between you and him. he's serious. a little nervous. your voice is small. "why?" his eyes flick to your lips. then back to your eyes. "because i want to." you pull your hand back. not because you're upset, but because you need space to think. to breathe. to not feel dizzy with the way he's looking at you. "jake.." you pause. "we're not even dating." he swallows. "i know." you glance at your lap. "so if we kiss.. what does it mean?" he doesn't answer right away. you think maybe he'll drop it. maybe this will stay in that weird in-between space where no one has to admit anything. but then he exhales. slow and honest. "i like you," he says, "i think i've liked you since before all this. and this is not pretend anymore. not for me." you blink. once. twice. "then why didn't you say anything?" he lets our a soft, almost-laugh. "because you still think this was about my ex. but the only person i've ever wanted to look at me like you do... is you." silence. then, your voice, quiet but steady. "you can kiss me now." he leans in⎯careful, slower than you expect. like he's giving you time to stop him. but you don't. not when his hands finds yours again. not when his lips brush yours, soft and steady, like a promise he means to keep. and for the first time, it doesn't feel complicated. it doesn't feel fake. just jake, just you. and maybe that's all it ever needed to be. by wonio | ‎ ‎ ‎ can anyone guess what inspired this :P had this sitting in my drafts for forever

[caitlinclarksbiceps]

Hold Me Down

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : W! Sonia x W! Reader

𝗪𝗖 : 2.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : none

a/n : I love love loveeee writing for sonia citron. Please send me more requests if you have any in mind! (Requested by 🏷️ @jupitermoonbaby )

Today’s a big day! It’s the Washington Mystics facing off against the Atlanta Dream, which means you’re gearing up to play against your girlfriend, Sonia. It’s kind of a hilarious situation, really. She’s out there guarding you like you're just another player on the court, no softness in her eyes, no hint of affection, and definitely no sign that you two are anything more than fierce competitors. It’s almost funny how everyone can see the tension, how tough she looks while she swipes the ball from your hands without a second thought. But deep down, you know her way better than anyone else ever could. You see past the intense exterior she shows to the world. You see the real Sonia, the one with the soft bubbly, personality hiding beneath that tough facade.

Rewind to your freshman year at college when you first crossed paths at tryouts for the women's basketball team at Notre Dame. At first glance, you thought she might be more than a little intimidating, her personality seemed as unyielding as it gets, and you figured it might be hard to connect with her. But oh girl, you were wrong! Once you started hanging out and getting to know her better, it was like peeling back layers of an onion to find a sweet little softie hiding beneath all that bravado. Just a few months later, you two hit it off and officially became a couple, excitingly revealing your relationship to the world. Friends and teammates were thrilled for you both, cheering at how perfect you seemed together.

On the court, your chemistry was undeniable. It was as if you and Sonia were playing with a shared brain. Every assist you made led directly to her shots, and she reciprocated flawlessly, wherever one of you went, the other was right there, almost like you were glued together. It felt like a beautiful dance, and everyone noticed how well you performed as a duo. But then came graduation and the real test of your relationship. With the draft coming, decisions had to be made. Sonia was picked by the Mystics, and you ended up with a spot on the Dream, which meant, unfortunately, that you would both be heading in different directions.

Now, that separation? It’s been tough on Sonia. Back in college, she followed you everywhere—literally, she’d tag along even when you were off doing earthly things like, well, using the bathroom!

You still remember one time when you grabbed a roll of toilet paper and said, “I’m going to poop. Alone.”

She blinked. “Why would you go through something like that without me?”

You stared. “Sonia. It’s pooping.”

She trailed behind anyway. “I’ll wait outside the door. We can talk.”

“Girl-”

“Babe, emotional support isn’t limited to public spaces.”

You shut the door.

“Let me know if you need anything. Like a wet wipe… or moral encouragement!”

You nearly screamed.

Another time, you tried sneaking out of your dorm early for a 6 AM solo workout.

You quietly closed the door, tiptoed down the hallway, turned the corner—and screamed.

Sonia was already standing there, in full gear, holding two granola bars.

“Going somewhere without me?” she asked, deadpan.

You blinked. “How did you even know?”

“I sensed a disturbance in the girlfriend force.”

One time you said, “I think I need some space.”

She gasped, stepped back dramatically, and said, “Is this enough?”

You sighed. “Sonia, we’re still holding hands.”

“Exactly,” she grinned. “Just like you wanted.”

One night in college, Sonia showed up outside your dorm with a backpack, a blanket, and exactly one sock.

You opened the door. “Sonia. Why are you barefoot?”

She looked up at you like a sad puppy. “I miss you. Can I sleep over? I brought my emotions.”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t we just hang out for seven hours?”

“Yes, and it was the best seven hours of my life,” she sniffled. “But then I remembered I have to sleep alone, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I’m very delicate.”

You sighed. “You live two floors down.”

She held up the blanket dramatically. “Two floors too far.”

Distance has never been her thing. You figured you could manage the long-distance relationship, but for Sonia, it’s a different story. On that dreaded day when you both had to part ways, she was practically on the verge of tears, FaceTiming you non-stop, telling you every second about how miserable she felt without you. To everyone else, she’s this tough, cold powerhouse on the court, but you know the real her—soft, clingy, and head over heels in love with you.

By the time the game rolls around, the arena is buzzing with excitement. You can’t help but smile with pride as Sonia nails a three-pointer, bringing the crowd to its feet. It’s both of your first pro games, and as intense as it feels to be opponents, you sorely miss her. Months have passed since you last saw each other after the draft, and between training sessions and busy schedules, it’s been nearly impossible to find a free moment together.

During the halftime break, you catch a glimpse of her looking your way—her eyes searching for you, but she can’t break away since you both need to stick to your respective locker rooms. The Mystics are up by ten points, and honestly, you’re torn. Do you feel bummed because your team is lagging behind, or are you happy to see Sonia killing it as a top scorer? Then your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, gorgeous. I can’t wait to spend time with you later (づ￣ ³￣)づ” That adorable text from Sonia instantly puts a smile on your face.

Finally, the game wraps up with the Mystics taking home the win. You try your best to look disappointed, but inside, you’re beaming with happiness for Sonia’s success. After packing away your gear in the locker, you hear the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Turning around, you’re met with Sonia running toward you, grinning like a kid in a candy store, her arms wide open for a hug.

“Babbyyyy!” she shouts with an excitement that nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs as she envelops you in her embrace. You can’t help but laugh, pushing her away just slightly so you can catch your breath.

“Oh my god, Soniii!” you chuckle, both of you lost in that moment of pure joy and connection. Even amidst the competitive spirit of the game, it felt like home to you, and that made it all worthwhile.

“Oh my gosh, I’ve missed you so much!” Sonia exclaimed, her tall frame leaning in as she showered your face with soft kisses, smothering you in playful affection. She started to affectionately sniff every inch of your face and neck, making you giggle uncontrollably from her exaggerated antics.

“Stop! You’re going to wipe my face off!” you laughed, trying to gently push her away, though there was no seriousness behind your words.

“I just can’t help it! I’ve missed you way too much!” Sonia replied, her voice full of genuine longing, as she enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you tightly as if letting go would somehow tear the universe apart.

“Hey, could I crash at your place for the week?” she asked, her voice adopting that cute, pleading tone that always melted your heart. “We’ll head back to Washington after our game next week,” she added, a hopeful look in her eyes. How could you even think of saying no? It had been ages since you two shared a real moment together. You nodded eagerly and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips, which only widened her infectious grin.

As you drive to your apartment, Sonia was already buzzing with excitement, rattling off a list of all the things she wanted to do with you while she was in Atlanta. “Okay, first off, movie night! I’ll handle dinner, and then we absolutely have to go bowling! Oh, and let’s catch the sunset while having a picnic—it’ll be so romantic! And how about we try making some TikToks together? That could be hilarious!” The excitement in her voice was contagious, and you couldn't help but chuckle in response.

“Yeah, I think we were planning on that already,” you said, matching her vibe.

“I seriously miss you—like, a lot,” Sonia admitted again, making it sound heartfelt as if it were the hundredth time she'd said it. “And I miss you, too,” you assured her, your eyes sparkling with love as you gazed at her.

“You know, back in my apartment in Washington, sometimes I just wish I could magically go back to college so I could be with you every single day,” she confessed, her voice quivering slightly. The way she spoke made your heart ache a little.

“I get that, but hey, at least we still manage to see each other,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Barely,” she shot back, her hands tenderly caressing your thighs while her other hand expertly controlled the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but tease her a bit.

“Look at you, all soft and cuddly, when just the other day, your teammates were calling you the one with the poker face!” you chuckled, recalling those Instagram reels where everyone couldn’t help but agree that Sonia was the queen of the serious look. At your playful jab, she rolled her eyes dramatically, giving in to laughter.

“Shut uppp!” she said, playful annoyance dancing in her eyes.

“Well, I want to be the only one who gets to see this clingy side of you,” you remarked, which made her cheeks flush with joy.

Sonia tapped your leg lightly. “Okay, but like... be honest. Were you actually trying to break my ankles on that crossover in the third quarter?”

You laughed. “Please, I did break your ankles. I saw your soul leave your body for a second.”

“Oh my god, rude!” Sonia gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “I let you have that. Out of love. It was a gift. You’re welcome.”

You smirked, turning toward her. “A gift? Babe, your knees buckled like a folding chair.”

Sonia snorted, swerving a little as she laughed. “Shut up! You wanna walk home?”

“I dare you,” you shot back, grinning. “You’d last two minutes without me. Three, tops. You’re clingier than my sports bra after practice.”

“Rude and accurate,” she said, poking your thigh. “I missed this. I missed you. Like, seriously—it’s been so dry without you. My plants died. I started talking to my vacuum. Her name’s Sheila.”

You burst into laughter. “Oh no, not Sheila!”

“Sheila’s loyal. Unlike someone who crossed me over in front of thousands of people!”

Once you finally arrived at your apartment, you both hurriedly took a shower and brushed your teeth, just like an old couple in a romantic comedy. Then, you plopped down on the couch, wrapping yourselves up in cozy blankets while picking a movie to watch. It felt so right, like no time had passed at all. The warmth of her presence brought you so much happiness, and you could hardly believe how easily your bond remained unbroken even after months apart.

You had barely hit play before Sonia was already inching closer, wrapping herself around you like a human scarf.

“Babe,” you said, laughing. “You’re literally on top of me.”

“That’s because I’m cold,” she mumbled, already halfway buried under your hoodie.

“We’re under two blankets.”

“Cold... emotionally,” she deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your position as she dramatically draped her leg across yours like a possessive octopus.

“Can you breathe?” you asked.

“Don’t need to,” she replied. “I’m living off your love now.”

You snorted. “You’re so clingy.”

“I’m not clingy,” she said, tightening her grip. “I’m... efficiently attached.”

You laughed, brushing a crumb out of her hair. “Did you just snack in my hoodie again?”

She looked up innocently. “Maybe. You’re my emotional support pantry.”

While Watching the movie Sonia pointed at the screen. “You’d totally survive this horror movie. You’d throw me at the killer and run.”

You playfully acted shock. “Excuse you, I’d be the one saving you. You’d trip on literally nothing.”

She nodded solemnly. “Facts. I tripped during warmups today.”

You cuddled closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll always pick you up.”

She paused, looked at you with a soft smile, and whispered, “Promise?”

You nodded. “Always.”

Hours passed and you felt thirsty, you shifted slightly, trying to wiggle free. “Okay, I need to get up and grab some water.”

Sonia immediately tightened her limbs around you like a boa constrictor. “No.”

“Babe—”

“You leave, I die.”

You blinked. “You’ll be fine for two minutes.”

“I won’t!” she wailed, dramatically burying her face in your neck. “Do you want my ghost to haunt this couch?! Is that what you want?!”

You sighed, trying not to laugh. “I’ll literally be ten feet away.”

“And that’s ten feet too many,” she sniffled. “Please. I’m fragile. Like a croissant. A sexy, emotional croissant.”

You stared at her. “...Did you just call yourself a sexy croissant?”

“I contain multitudes.”

Eventually, you negotiated, you got up to grab the water, but only after making Sonia a little blanket burrito and promising to yell “I love you!” from the kitchen every 10 seconds.

You only made it five seconds before she yelled, “I miss you!!”

When the movie was about to end you noticed that Sonia had dozed off in your arms, her head nestled comfortably against your neck. A smile crept across your face as you realized how perfect the moment was, your heart felt like it could burst from happiness. Gently, you reached for your phone and snapped a quick pic, capturing the cozy scene of Sonia holding you close, both of you lost in your own little world. Just moments after posting it on Instagram, your phone blew up with notifications, each one more amusing than the last.

“Soni, this isn’t you!” one fan joked in the comments, while another chimed in, “Sonia the koala?” and yet another quipped, “Is this really Sonia? Or is this AI?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the playful comments flooding in. Eventually, you turned off your phone, sinking back into the comforting embrace of your girlfriend until sleep gently took you both, wrapped up in each other.

[lovegasmic]

 ✭ 𝗖𝗥𝗬, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

‘ toji x f!reader. overstimulation◞ dacryphilia ◞ multiple orgasms◞ praising n’ a bit of degradation ( good/pretty/baby girl, good little slut, sweetheart )◞ squirting◞ daddy kink◞ this sucks bc I wrote it so long in my old blog :p but still wanna clean my drafts ’

Toji was never an easy man to have sex with, starting from his size and incredible power to get you wet and begging with just a couple of words.

“beg me properly, beg me to use your body” he smirks, the tip of his tongue tracing the scar on the side of his mouth while eyeing your body up and down hungrily, “speak, sweetheart, or no one will hear you scream tonight” and in Toji’s words, that was a promise to leave you unsatisfied.

and you comply, a soft whimper escaping your lips while your fingers slide down to spread your wet cunt to his eyes, letting him observe how lewdly wet you were, “please— fuck me”

“is that the best you can do?” a mocking smirk greets you, eyes glued to your glistening folds while palming his growing bulge through the fabric of his signature baggy pants, “speak your mind, darling” his voice huskier, “don’t hold yourself”

“i...” you swallow harshly, “...want you to use me like your toy...”

words seductive, low and soft but oh so needy, “good girl” and Toji grins, seemly satisfied by your response, “lay down on the couch and spread your pretty legs for daddy”

“y-yes, daddy” the last word coming out purred, hips bucking unconsciously at the exact same time Toji climbs up your body, pants long forgotten on the floor meeting your discarded clothes that now felt more like a big pile of unnecessary cloth.

“that’s good, you’ve been an obedient little thing haven’t ya? making it easier for daddy” the man cockily smirks while stroking the fat girth of his cock, with his tongue against his cheek and rubbing the engorged tip across your slit, smearing translucent beads of precum against your clit, “you’re so wet baby, do you want daddy that bad inside of you?”

you’re quick to nod, hiccups escaping your lips while the man roughly held your hip to guide the engorged cockhead right to your soaking wet pussy, “say it”

“I want it, daddy, please fuck me” you whine again, choking out a sob when he began to split you open, forcefully spreading your folds with his size.

“fuck—, you really love being stretched by my fat cock, huh?” Toji chuckles, whipping a bead of sweat from his upper lip with a single thumb, before holding onto your hips and forcefully sheathing himself balls deep in the warmth of your cunt, “oh, yeah baby girl, take it all”

“ohh! y-yes” you moan in between sobs, pussy throbbing in delight at being stretched at the limit.

“that’s right baby, I’m going to use this pretty pussy of yours” the man starts thrusting deeper inside of you, each stroke hitting your g spot “let daddy fill this tight little hole of yours”

“feels good, o-oh uh!” your sobs grow, eyes watery from getting your insides practically rearranged, body dragged back and forth against the soft surface of the couch.

“m’ gonna cum” you mumble under your breath, having been fingered previously did the trick at getting your orgasm closer.

“yeah? come on my cock then” the raven haired man growls, pressing your thighs to your chest as his hips continued to piston inside of you, not even stopping when you began to convulse and cream all over his length, “that’s my good fuckin’ girl” is the last thing you hear before Toji is pulling out of your wet cunt, ripping out a whimper from your bitten lips as the world gets turn around, now finding yourself on hands and knees, exhaling heavily when the man’s fat cock slid inside your pussy once again, barely stretching you with the tip as a slap landed on your ass, “beg for it, beg for daddy’s big cock”

“please, please—” wiggling your hips in an attempt for his cock to bury deep inside of you, “please fuck me, breed me”

“good little slut” he smirks, pounding into you once again with renovated vigor, the sound of his balls lewdly slamming against your wet cunt making you sob and clench tightly, “you feel so fuckin’ good, so wet and tight around my cock, shit—”

“yes!” you babble incoherently, feeling yourself being held up against Toji’s chest with an arm across your waist.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” the wet slide of his tongue from the column of your neck to the shell of your ear makes you shudder and clench, getting a chuckle from Toji at the shiver of your body, “getting daddy’s fat cock molding your insides, fucking you silly until you can only think of me, hm?” the man laughs, pressing your head down back against the couch, ass up in the air in a new position where his cock is a tad away from hitting your cervix, leaving you gasping for air between desperate screams, “don’t hold yourself, sweetheart, go on and cum” he finish with another soft smack on your butt, successfully throwing you over the edge as you scream while cumming for a second time, pussy sensitive but still clinging to his cock as if to never let it go.

the warmth of your cunt makes his head go dizzy, deciding to flip you over onto a new position, “wanna watch that pretty sloppy expression when I cum” his voice much deeper than when you started, pressing against your thighs in a mating press that rubs every delicious spot with those thick bulging veins, the sounds of your juices splattering around with each hard smack of his hips on your cunt, mixed with growls of pleasure successfully make the warmth in your belly grow again.

“Toji — I’m gonna cum again” you sob, “gonna make a mess!” and you do, feeling your juices pour out in jets of squirt, soaking Toji’s cock and balls while he pulls out simply to rub your clit with the tip, a smile present on his face.

“you really did squirt” he chuckles, continuing to rub your sore and abused pussy.

“I have... never squirted before...,” a little weak sob leaves, feeling slightly embarrassed at the mess you created. little did you know that for Toji, that action alone was stroking his ego like never before.

“yeah?” he begins, making a fake pout before guiding his cock to your entrance again, “let’s see if you can do that again” he teases, not giving you a moment to complain before spreading your tight walls around his cock, ignoring your pleas and cries for him to at least give you a break, weak hands pushing on his soaked abdomen in a vain attempt.

“no more...ngh!” you choke out and your cunt gush around cock again and again, forcefully pushing orgasms repeatedly out of your puffy cunt.

“too bad, sweetheart, I’m not done with you” he says mockingly, pulling back with a smirk before slamming forward forcefully, “you look so cute when you cry, like a pretty broken toy that can’t take more cock” he mocks with a little fake pout, “you’re mine, doll, and I plan to remind you all night long”

[cass-phoenix]

As someone who has never watched or played Ace Attorney (it's a game, right??? Not a show?? Idk. I'm uncultured.) I sat through this whole thing giggling and kicking my feet.

I'm very anti-ai, and I learned NEW THINGS that make me hate it EVEN MORE!! Thank you.

I also loved the exasperation from the characters. It was so funny and well timed. WELL DONE HUMOR!

- Also. Separately. But adding to this with my own experience-- My father works as a safety manager for a construction company. There's a lot of people out of work in the USA at the moment due to Trump's administration.

The construction companies are trying to cut as many costs as possible, which means removing employees where they can since they can no longer afford to keep them. For a while, it just meant laborers and carpenters. But all of their high-ranking administrators stayed on so they wouldn't have to find new guys when work starts up again.

Except, now they're asking all of their safety managers to use AI to draft up reports for them. When safety managers take pictures of OSHA violations, they're instructed to put them through AI so that AI can find all the OSHA violations in the pictures.

Now, the little work safety managers can do is becoming obsolete as AI steals their job.

It seems less likely that even the administrators can keep their jobs as AI is slowly being integrated into their workplace. They can let the administrators go and not need to worry about replacements since they can just have AI do it instead.

I don't know all the details, but I can't help but worry that, additionally, AI is being trained off of their reports and pictures.

Shout out to my dad for refusing to use it. I hope they don't replace him and his job with AI.

I stayed up way too late making this.

Presenting... Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney — The AI Art Case

[4barbatos]

✦ forgive me, father (for i came)

venti x dahlia x fem!reader

then had a ménage à trois ...last friday night .ᐟ

cw: threesome (dom!venti & dom!dahlia x sub!fem!reader), spit-roasting, overstimulation, light dumbification, degradation and praise, blasphemous religious themes, rough sex, oral (receiving + giving), light choking, name-calling, drunken decisions, semi-public buildup, reader being very very down bad. idek atp it’s unholy.

a/n: jesus. this fic nearly took me out 😭 had to do actual research on what goes down at an american party bc obviously i’m not american (if u thought i was…… respectfully get out). also i was gonna post this at 2am but i deadass fell asleep mid-edit while “last friday night” was blasting in my left ear.

had this festering in my drafts for like a week because my brain refused to cooperate. finishing it felt like fighting for my life in the trenches, but i’m glad i pushed through bc i kinda love it??? dahlia being a repressed religious perv is sooo real to me. venti has a god complex and i’m not stopping him. man thinks he invented pleasure. praise be. 

also! modern college au, everyone’s legal and consenting, and ready to make terrible decisions <3 

you didn’t even wanna come to this party. 

like, genuinely. you had an exam next week, a half-written paper, and a half-dead social battery. the last thing you needed was to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of horny undergrads blasting katy perry like it was 2010 and shame didn’t exist.

but your roommate was hot and persuasive and already four shots in when she started dragging you by the wrist.

“i swear,” she slurred, her glitter eyeshadow half-smudged and confidence turned all the way up to eleven, “you need to get dicked down or at least dance, girl.”

you brought a water bottle and wore a thrifted denim short. crop top optional, dignity minimal. you figured you’d hover around the snacks, say no to three drinks, and dip early with your gpa intact.

you weren’t expecting to find god.

or rather — two boys who made you forget him completely.

it started off normal. crowded house, colored leds, somebody grinding to a weeknd remix in the living room. your roommate disappeared ten minutes in, presumably to go make out with that guy from her econ class who looked like he cried after sex.

you were posted by the kitchen counter with your “water” (spiked, probably) and a vague plan to ghost as soon as someone tried to rope you into flip cup.

suddenly you heard a familiar voice, buried under the bass and drunk laughter. something warm and deep, with a laugh you remembered a little too well — like the echo of a bad idea, like the first sip of communion wine that was definitely not grape juice.

you turned your head, scanning through the haze of neon lights and sweaty bodies until you saw him.

“wait,” you said, freezing mid-step. “is that—”

you blinked through the crowd. tilted your head. no fucking way.

“dahlia?”

and like some kind of divine punishment, he looked up right as you said it. head tilted. curls a little longer now. smile the same. pretty as always, just older — more grown into himself. less sunday choir, more sunday morning regret.

you stared. he stared back.

and he smiled. slow. familiar.

“holy shit,” you mumbled. “literal church boy dahlia. the pervert.”

your friend turned her head, already halfway through her third drink. “the what?”

you grinned, cheeks flushed. “he used to moan during prayer.”

she choked. “you’re kidding.”

“senior youth retreat. i was there. it was dark.”

you didn’t mean to talk to him again. not really.

you were supposed to be getting more water — in the loosest sense of the word — and maybe scoping out the snacks before your roommate dared someone to dance on the dining table. but somehow, you ended up pressed near the kitchen counter with him, sipping vodka-disguised hydration and laughing a little too easily against the tune of an early-2000s party playlist.

like the past didn’t hum under your skin.

like you hadn’t spent whole years pretending you didn’t think about his lips when you closed your eyes.

“you still go to church?” you asked, voice looser now, a little slow from the alcohol. your eyes flicked down to the rosary slung around his neck, a glint of silver nestled above exposed collarbones. the chain dipped beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt — a silk one, of course, because dahlia didn’t know how to dress normally.

“every sunday,” he said, tilting his head, elbow resting behind you like he always needed to trap you somewhere. “confession, too.”

you raised a brow. “must be a long-ass session.”

he grinned. “only when i think of you.”

you choked. coughed. wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “jesus wept.”

“probably because you wore that skirt to sunday school.”

you gave him a look. “you wore fishnets to a baptism.”

“we all have our moments.”

you snorted, flicking his arm. “blasphemous freak.”

he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, voice low: “missed you too, sweetheart.”

you were about to recover — really — when a new voice cut in. higher, smoother, soaked in flirt and casual sin.

“hey,” someone drawled, “who’s your friend?”

you turned your head.

and immediately forgot how to breathe.

the boy standing there looked like temptation had crawled out of a lana del rey song and decided to make itself fashion. crop top riding dangerously high on his waist. eyeliner smudged like he’d fucked and cried in it. messy red eyeshadow painted over his lids like sin. earrings glinting with every lazy tilt of his head. thigh chains. layered necklaces. a smile like he already knew every filthy thought in your head and was ready to make it worse.

he looked at you like a cat watching something twitch.

“venti,” dahlia muttered beside you, voice already tight. “this is y/n.”

venti’s eyes didn’t leave your face. “oh. hi.”

your brain short-circuited.

he tilted his head, smile curling. slow. knowing.

your heart did a little skip. then maybe a cartwheel. maybe a confessional-level sin.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you blinked, twice, trying to remember how words worked.

venti’s gaze dragged down and up in one unashamed sweep — not even pretending to be subtle. when his eyes met yours again, they sparkled. and then he smiled wider.

dahlia rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a prayer for patience. “she’s mine.”

you scoffed immediately. “she’s not,” you said, turning fully toward him — maybe too quick. maybe too flustered.

venti was still watching you, smug like he’d already won. 

your knees wobbled. traitors.

dahlia noticed. of course he did. he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip like he had to remind both of you where you used to belong.

“you’re drunk,” he muttered, low.

“so are you,” you shot back, voice breathier than you wanted.

venti’s grin sharpened like a knife. “i’m sober enough to know i’d make her feel better than your holy hands ever could.”

he took a sip from his red solo cup, and when a drop slipped past his lip, he caught it with his tongue.

your soul left your body.

dahlia made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. “you’re going to hell.”

venti shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “with her? gladly.”

you exhaled. shaky. already fucked in the head. already thinking about what it’d be like to be ruined between them — choir boy and chaos incarnate.

you had a paper due monday. a hangover waiting to ambush you. a party full of strangers that wouldn’t notice you disappearing.

and god definitely wasn’t here tonight. 

“so,” venti said, stepping closer — dangerously closer — until your shoulder nearly brushed his. he smelled like wine and spearmint and something sweet you couldn’t name. “what brings a girl like you to a party like this?”

“roommate dragged me,” you replied, trying to sound casual. your voice came out thinner than expected. “i have an exam next week.”

“mm. you study hard?”

“i try to.”

he smiled like you just handed him ammunition. “you look like you need a break.”

“she doesn’t need your kind of break,” dahlia muttered, shifting beside you. his palm skimmed the curve of your waist, familiar and territorial.

venti, unbothered, leaned past you to grab a bottle off the counter — something green and half-empty — and poured a finger of it into his cup. he offered it to you with a smirk.

you didn’t take it.

“i’m already drunk,” you said.

“so am i,” he replied, “and yet i’m still making excellent choices.”

“this isn’t an excellent choice,” dahlia said, tugging you a little closer.

“what, sharing a drink or stealing your girl?”

you almost choked.

“i’m not his girl,” you said.

dahlia’s fingers tensed.

venti’s eyes glittered. “well, if you’re not his… can i have you?”

you blinked at him.

and maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the way he was smiling like he’d already won. maybe it was the ghost of dahlia’s breath on your neck, the memory of his hands under your skirt at sixteen, the fact that you felt so alive for the first time in weeks —

but you said it. blame the devil, the vodka, the look in venti’s eyes. you said it anyway.

“are you two gonna keep talking,” you asked, voice low, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

a beat of stunned silence.

then —

“dibs,” venti said, instantly, voice light but laced with something that made your spine straighten. “i call dibs.”

“you can’t call dibs,” dahlia snapped, sharp and bristling. “she’s not some fucking prize.”

venti only smiled, stepping closer with that same lazy, dangerous charm. “sure feels like i’m winning something.”

“i talked to her first.”

“you also tried to claim her like a parking space,” venti shot back, glancing at you with a knowing gleam. “she said no, remember?”

you blinked up at them, half amused, half unhinged, stomach doing flips and thighs already pressing tight.

“jesus,” you muttered, “this is the worst threesome negotiation ever.”

venti leaned down a little, voice dropping as he looked you straight in the eye. “oh, love. this isn’t negotiation. this is foreplay.”

you might’ve blacked out for a second. just a little.

then dahlia was suddenly behind you, crowding close enough for his chest to press against your back, one hand low on your waist, mouth right next to your ear.

“say the word,” he murmured, “and i’ll take you upstairs right now. don’t even have to look at him.”

venti hummed. “but she wants to. don’t you, pretty thing?”

you turned to look at him.

his tongue was running along the edge of his bottom lip, slow and knowing, fingers playing with one of his necklaces. he was watching you like a dare. like he already knew what decision you were going to make.

your mouth went dry. your body didn’t.

“you’re both,” you said, exhaling, “so fucking annoying.”

“but hot,” venti reminded, cocky.

“and talented,” dahlia added, already pulling you subtly toward the hallway. “you remember.”

venti’s hand was on your other wrist before you realized it, cool and confident. “i promise i’m better.”

you didn’t even know who led you up the stairs — one of them pushed the door open, the other tugged you inside, both of them crowding close as the music faded behind a slam and the click of a lock.

heat. hands.

someone’s mouth on your neck. someone else’s fingers at the hem of your shorts.

“dibs on her mouth,” venti said, already dropping to his knees, smiling like the devil as he looked up at you.

“you’re such a slut,” dahlia muttered — but he let go.

“i am,” venti grinned, tugging your hips closer. “and she’s about to be, too.”

you barely had time to breathe.

venti’s hands were already gliding up your thighs, warm and smooth, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one practiced, greedy motion. the grin never left his face. not even when he kissed the inside of your knee and said, in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard:

“hold still for me, baby. gonna make you sing.”

you almost said something smart — almost — but then his mouth was on you, and the words evaporated. tongue hot, slow, teasing. his thumbs held your thighs open with a surprisingly firm grip, and then he moaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted something divine.

your knees buckled.

“fuck,” you gasped, one hand shooting out blindly until it hit dahlia’s arm. you curled your fingers into his shirt. “oh my god—”

“told you she’d sound pretty,” venti murmured against your cunt, before licking another long stripe up the center and flicking your clit with his tongue.

“and i told you to shut up,” dahlia muttered, but his voice was hoarse. his hand found the back of your neck, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your temple. “you like his mouth, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

“yeah, she does,” venti said smugly. “she’s dripping. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you would’ve protested — maybe — but then he sucked, lips wrapping around your clit and tugging just right, and the pleasure hit like lightning.

your hips jerked forward. dahlia caught you.

“venti,” you whimpered, “fuck—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he said sweetly. “let go for me, pretty thing. cum all over my tongue.”

you did.

shaking, gasping, clinging to dahlia’s shirt like a lifeline while your thighs trembled around venti’s head. he groaned, licking you through it, hands firm on your ass to keep you steady.

when it was over, he kissed the inside of your thigh like a reward.

“so sweet,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “might get addicted.”

you were still trying to catch your breath when dahlia gently tilted your face toward his.

his eyes were dark.

“my turn,” he said.

you didn’t realize you were grinding against venti’s mouth until he groaned, loud and thrilled, hands squeezing your thighs to keep you there. your head spun. your hips jerked. he loved it.

“needy girl,” he gasped against you, tongue flicking quick and sharp. “use me.”

you whimpered.

behind you, dahlia cursed under his breath, pushing your bra up to mouth at your tits, teeth grazing your nipple just rough enough to make you jolt. “fuck, baby. so sensitive. you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

venti pulled back just enough to grin against your skin. “she’s close.”

“she always was easy.” “she’s perfect.” “she’s mine.”

you gasped, nearly choking on your own breath.

“then why’s she whining on my tongue?” venti said, smug, dragging it over you again — and god, it was filthy the way he moaned like he’d been starved for this, like the taste of you was his favorite kind of poison.

you cried out, trembling hard enough that dahlia had to grip your hips tighter to keep you upright.

“venti—venti—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he said sweetly. “be good and make a mess on my face.”

and you did.

with a cry that split the air, you came hard — shaking, hips bucking, vision dark at the edges. venti didn’t stop. he ate it up, humming, licking through your orgasm like he was trying to memorize it. like he wanted seconds.

maybe thirds.

you barely had time to catch your breath before dahlia was spinning you, lips crashing into yours — rough, messy, starved.

“still mine,” he muttered against your mouth. “she might’ve got you first, but i get to fuck you.”

venti wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “we get to fuck her.”

dahlia didn’t argue this time.

you were dizzy, your knees barely holding, your pulse still too fast. but you didn’t care.

not when dahlia was walking you back toward the bed, pushing you gently down, stripping you slow like you were something precious and ruined all at once. not when venti crawled up beside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your collarbone — every inch dahlia wasn’t touching.

“gonna take care of you,” venti whispered, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “you’ll let us, won’t you?”

you nodded. breathless.

“use your words, baby,” dahlia said, already undoing his belt. “what do you want?”

you looked between them — wrecked and warm and starving — lips parted, thighs trembling, mouth slick with spit and want and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

your voice barely came out a whisper.

“…both of you.”

venti beamed. radiant. unholy. like a prayer turned inside out.

“god bless.”

“god hates us,” dahlia muttered, already pushing your thighs further apart, climbing over you like he owned you. “and i’m about to make you forget every prayer you’ve ever known.”

your breath hitched. your whole body keened.

then came the first thrust — deep, deliberate — and the air punched out of your lungs in a messy, wrecked sound.

you didn’t even know whose hands were on you anymore. one gripped your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, another curled around your hip, dragging you back against their pace like you were made for it. venti was saying something — words you couldn’t catch, not when your brain was sliding like honey through your skull — but his mouth was wet and hot and everywhere, his tongue licking into your teeth like he wanted to taste the exact second you broke.

dahlia growled in your ear, low and dark, his grip bruising.

“say it,” he rasped. “say who’s making you feel this good.”

“y-you both—” you gasped, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “fuck, please—”

“aw, look at her,” venti cooed, voice syrupy, cocky, cruel. “can’t even think straight. how many times has she cum already?”

“four,” dahlia grunted. “maybe five.”

“mm. not enough.”

you whimpered as venti dipped between your legs again, tongue unrelenting, too much — too much — but god, you didn’t want it to stop. didn’t want to breathe if it meant they’d stop touching you like this, worshipping you like the altar you were never meant to be.

you moaned — high and helpless — when dahlia’s pace picked up, slamming into you like he was trying to fuck his name into your spine.

venti grinned up at you from between your thighs, lips wet and swollen.

“gonna make her forget the alphabet.”

“already did,” dahlia panted. “she went stupid after the second orgasm.”

you didn’t deny it.

you couldn’t. your brain had been fucked clean out of your head, scrambled like eggs, your only thoughts left were their names and the way they made you feel — raw, perfect, ruined.

and still they kept going. and you let them.

you let them, because you were already too far gone. because your body begged for more even when your mind shattered. because you’d never felt this good. this full. this taken.

because whatever sins you’d committed to get here?

you’d do them all again. twice. in heels.

god was gone. and you were still moaning.

it didn’t matter anymore. not with your legs trembling open, cunt puffy and dripping, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as you moaned pathetically around venti’s cock.

“ohh, look at her,” venti cooed, breath shaky, voice teasing and airy as he fisted your hair. “baby’s all fucked out already, and we haven’t even finished.”

“slut,” dahlia muttered behind you, hands digging into your hips as he snapped his into yours. “you came again, didn’t you? just now. again. fuck—your pussy’s still squeezing like she wants more.”

you whined around venti’s length, eyelids fluttering. your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore. your thighs had given out ages ago. they kept you upright between them — barely — venti’s cock hitting the back of your throat while dahlia was still pounding into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to fuck the brain out of you.

maybe he already had.

venti moaned, hips twitching as your lips hollowed around him. “you’re drooling, pretty girl,” he gasped. “so messy. god, i love it. she’s not even blinking, look—she’s gone, dahlia.”

“good,” dahlia growled, pace still brutal. “she wanted to act like she didn’t want either of us earlier. needed a reminder.”

venti chuckled, breathless. “she’ll forget her name at this rate.”

you tried to answer — to say fuck you or i hate you or please or more or something, anything — but your voice was gone, throat raw, thoughts mush.

“mm-mm,” venti murmured, noticing the twitch of your brows. “don’t think. just feel.”

you whined again — this time, deeper. desperate.

dahlia leaned forward, hand sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind. “you gonna cum again for us, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, hips still slamming into you. “gonna cream all over my cock like a needy little toy?”

you gasped around venti, tears finally slipping from your lashes.

venti groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “god, she’s crying,” he whispered. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, y’know that?”

you made a wrecked little noise, drool sliding past your lips as you nodded.

dahlia grunted. “fucking knew she liked it. knew you were a dirty girl the second i saw you in that church dress.”

your cunt clenched violently.

“fuck—again?” dahlia moaned. “she’s—she’s gonna—”

you broke.

legs kicking, arms trembling, a scream caught in your throat around venti’s cock as your body convulsed, heat flashing white as you came hard — your sixth? seventh? you couldn’t tell — clenching so tight around dahlia it made him swear, hips jerking once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan.

venti whimpered. “ohh, fuck, baby—fuck—gonna—gonna—”

he pulled out just in time, coming hot and fast across your tongue and lips, his hand under your chin to tilt your face up, make you take it. you let your mouth fall open, drool and spit and come spilling messily down your chin.

“that’s it,” he gasped, voice sweet and fucked. “good girl. good fucking girl.”

you whimpered — barely conscious, twitching.

dahlia pulled out slow, watching your slick drip down your thighs. “fuck, look at that mess,” he muttered, thumb brushing your clit just to watch you flinch. “soaked the sheets. hope your roommate’s proud.”

venti collapsed beside you, sweaty and blissed out, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

you blinked at him, dazed. “mmnnh.”

he grinned. “no thoughts. just cock.”

“mission accomplished,” dahlia muttered, flopping beside you on the other side.

you weren’t even sure which of them kissed your shoulder.

you just knew your legs didn’t work, your soul had left your body, and if god had been here tonight —

he definitely left mid-threesome.

you woke up to the sound of someone snoring and someone else — singing.

acoustic. badly. with feeling.

“…living in a material wooorld, and i am a material giiirl—”

your brain hurt. your legs hurt. your entire existence hurt.

you cracked one eye open.

and immediately regretted everything.

venti was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like some sleep-deprived prophet, strumming an actual guitar (???) you swore nobody had brought to the party. eyeliner smudged halfway to his temples, red eyeshadow still smeared across one cheek like war paint. his lips were shiny — glossy, even. god only knew why.

he grinned when he saw you awake.

“morning, sunshine! you moaned like a pornstar in your sleep.”

you blinked.

rolled over.

and immediately saw dahlia, shirtless, face buried in a pillow, groaning like he had just been born into suffering.

“kill me,” he rasped.

you sat up slowly, blanket clutched to your chest, realizing three things at once:

1. you were wearing dahlia’s shirt. inside out. 

2. venti was definitely wearing your bra like a headband.

3. someone had written “slut sandwich” on the fogged-up mirror in lipstick.

“what the actual hell happened,” you croaked, throat wrecked, dignity in shambles, and your legs about two steps away from quitting the entire concept of balance.

“sex,” venti answered brightly from the bed, still shirtless, still smug. “lots of it. possibly illegal in some countries.”

“definitely illegal in a church parking lot,” dahlia added, not even opening his eyes. “and probably a few states.”

you flipped them both off with shaky fingers as you stumbled toward the bathroom, every muscle in your body filing a complaint.

“don’t forget to hydrate!” venti called after you, far too cheerful for a man who’d literally begged to cum in your mouth five hours ago.

you grumbled something about exorcisms and shoved the bathroom door open, clinging to the sink like a war veteran. mascara smudged. knees bruised. bite marks blooming like artwork down your collarbone. you didn’t even want to check your hair.

you’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard:

“hey dahlia?”

“what.”

“did we actually high-five while spit-roasting her or was that just something i dreamed about?”

a pause.

“nah. we definitely high-fived. you yelled ‘teamwork makes the cream work.’”

venti wheezed. “oh my god. i’m hilarious.”

you slammed the bathroom door shut like it owed you money.

god, give me strength, you prayed silently. and maybe a therapist. and a gallon of electrolytes.

…also maybe another round after brunch. if they behave.

a/n: guys imma be honest this only got finished bc of @ventisslut <3 ily mother. bless 🙏 if it weren’t for u i’d probably still be staring at my docs unfinished and untouched (like me)