#This feels different then the last few times

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[quarterlifekitty]

Just some more thoughts on König with a clingy girl.

He’s not used to physical intimacy by any means. He’s paid for girls plenty of times, have a few flings during different leaves, but never anything sweet. Never a girlfriend.

Before you even get together, you’re clingy. You like hugs. You like leaning on him when you’re sat next to each other, falling asleep on him. Which makes him fall in love so quickly, by the way. He’s addicted to feeling you warm on his skin.

And when he does manage to sweet talk his way into the boyfriend position? He melts under every crumb of affection. Every kiss to the cheek, every nuzzle, every time you park yourself in his lap.

Man is a death grip hand-holder. His height makes him hard to lose in crowds, but he still doesn’t want to be separated. Letting go of your hand is literally like his last resort.

And let it be said. This man wants to fuck you with as much skin to skin contact as possible. Sure, he’ll never say no to a quickie, but his favorite type of sex is when you’re both completely bare and have space to get in every position imaginable. He likes you pressed completely against him— chest to chest if possible, maybe back to chest (especially if a full length mirror is involved).

And then there’s the emotional clinging. He’s very insecure about the idea of wanting you more than you want him, so it always makes him so happy when you’re the one texting, calling, or just coming into the same room as him to hang out. He loves when you contact him for no reason at all— just to check on him. One time when he asked why you called, you said “I just wanted to hear your voice,” and he almost fainted from how giddy it made him. And he doesn’t have so much going on besides work, so he really doesn’t mind if you’re the type to want to spend every hour of every day with him.

The hardest fucking you ever got from König was a few weeks after you first moved in together. He had to be on base for the day, and you had a day off. You meet him at the door— you headed there as soon as you heard the car— and wrap him up in an embrace that he gladly returns.

“So, leibling, what did you do all day today?”

“I waited for you to come home,” you say absentmindedly, just rubbing his back and pressing your cheek to his chest. You don’t notice how he almost starts trembling from your words, his heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

He needs to be inside you— can barely hold it together enough to carry you to bed like a fucking caveman. Starts thinking you need something else to cling to when he’s away… something that can cling to him when he comes home. A baby would suit you both very nicely, yeah?

[menagerofmischief]

Dia's Smutmas

6 smutmas fics for the month of december

a/n: this don't have set publication dates because first I haven't started writing them yet and second that makes me feel very pressured. so this are all coming sometimes in december, also they probably won't be published in the order shown below. enoy!

Toys -> Max Verstappen you may be in your twenties but you still get toys for christmas, just a different kind

Food play -> Charles Leclerc after a gingerbread house fail there's too many leftover sweets, what better way to eat them than off your partner

Role play -> Franco Colapinto a young milf ready to do anything to cross off the rest of the christmas wishlist and a guy who has the last few items in his cart

Face sitting -> Oscar Piastri oscar thinks the best way to show his girlfriend the charm of Aussie christmas is by giving her the Australian kiss

Anal -> Max Verstappen indulging in your boyfriends hidden fantasies during the most magical time of the year

Sex tape -> Lando Norris buying your boyfriend a camera for christmas proves to be a rather interesting idea when he suggests using it in the bedroom

COMING DECEMBER 2024

[randomsuggesteduseername]

waking up with nerdy college steve after a hookup

—MASTERLIST

The sheets feel soft on your skin, uncharacteristically so for the uni beds, and as you open your eyes it’s confirmed that you didn’t make it home last night. Lazily, you let your head turn to the side, the light from the wall-length window almost blinding you as you try to accustom from the previous darkness of your eyelids. He’s sleeping, you notice as much from the rhythmic rise and fall of his back, your eyes exploring shamelessly the expanse of his skin littered in moles and twin pairs of four indents on his shoulder blades. They’re still somewhat red, a gentle reminder of the previous night.

Rolling on your stomach, you keep yourself up on your elbows as you tilt your head curiously, who knew Steve could look this peaceful? You’ve only known him as that boy from sociology you happened to lock eyes with a few times. The first thing you had noticed about him were his perfect eyes and the little stray chestnut strand which was curling down from his forehead all the way to his pretty brown eyes. So wide, framed by black lashes with just the right upwards curl to give him that Bambi look which had you thinking about him for an embarrassing amount of time.

You’d seen the way girls were fawning over him, how he’d politely reject them and try to keep his distance. It made you think he was taken, but how could he be not, those eyes were like gentle traps. Traps in which you fell head first without warning. You’re not in love with him, no…you don’t think you are, but you’re not indifferent to him either which is somewhat vexing.

He’s waking up, a deeper breath and a grumpy sigh fall from his lips first, the scruffing of his pillow audible as he nuzzles deeper into the comfort of the silk. He has his own apartment, daddy’s money is your best guess, which is surprising since he doesn’t have anything in common with the rich douchebags which always make their presence known by flashing their wealth left and right. He’s so different in his own way, which is why you’re surprised that you managed to make it into his bed last night, you suppose Tina’s vodka spiked punch might’ve loosened him up.

You watch him as he sits up, a cute frown resting between his brows as he supports himself with a hand against the mattress before he looks around, spotting you beside him, still wearing his polo from the previous night. It was the closest garment you could grab from the floor.

“Morning…” His voice is deeper than usual, sleep still lingering on him and his features. “You’re still here,” he says as if it’s a miracle, his pink-ish lips pulling up at the corners in a pretty smile.

“Would you rather that I leave?” Questioning teasingly, you hum at the soft pout falling onto his lips, making you shake your head and sigh, reaching a hand to ruffle his already messy hair. “Relax, bambi, I’m just joking.” Sitting yourself up, you climb onto his lap as he leans back against the headboard and gazes up at you, the slightly sleepy look in his eyes making your stomach squeeze.

Slinging your arms around his neck, you let out a hum and push one hand up into his hair, silky strands slipping smoothly through your fingers as you watch his eyes flutter shut and lean back into your touch. You suddenly want him again. Bad.

You thought that last night was enough for you to get him out of your system, but once again, looking at those soft lips, you wish they’d be doing something else right now. Giving his lips a chaste peck, you feel his hands pressing onto your waist with a featherlight pressure, grounding himself in the moment as if just the softest touch of your lips has him floating. Pulling back slightly to watch him, you notice the leftover lipstick marks smeared onto his skin, the reddish tint at the corner of his lips, over his jaw and stretching down to his neck and collarbone.

Tutting gently, you smile to yourself, letting your fingers push his hair back from his forehead before you lean in and stop just a hair’s width away from his lips, your eyes falling shut as you hum and squeeze the back of his neck. “You know, Bambi…” Shifting on his thighs, “there’s something about you driving me crazy.” you tilt your head and before he can think of a response, your lips are on his, lazily kissing him as you shift closer and nip on his lip. His breath fans over your cheek, hands tightening slightly onto your waist as he gets worked up, your kiss turning more heated and rushed. You pant, pulling back, surprised as he leans in and continues mouthing sloppily at your neck.

Offering him the whole expanse of your neck to play with, your eyes stay shut as you feel the accidental scrape of his front teeth against the side of your neck, making you moan and grip at his shoulder, your other hand tugging onto his hair as a reassuring gesture that he's doing well.. His skin is warm against yours despite the shudder which runs through him at the sharp feeling of you tugging onto his hair. He loves it, the type of pain which fuels his fire.

He doesn’t dare to go further, settling for some open mouthed kisses onto your neck, his hands having found the courage to slip under your shirt, which is actually his, but he knows that if you want he’ll let you leave with it. Warm palms spread over your back, you grip his throat and push him back from your skin, his expression mimicking one of a puppy whose toy has been snatched away.

Your lips settling onto his jaw, you suck a mark on the underside of it which makes him jolt, struggling to keep still as you turn his skin a rose colour, finishing it up with a nip. Chuckling at his soft jolt, you murmur a soft praise and pull back to admire his blissed out face, lips parted slightly, eyes shut and his cheeks a matching shade with the mark on his neck.

Sighing deeply, you roll off and lay back, legs parting suggestively as you motion for him to come lay with you with a subtle tilt of your head, watching as his grin widens while he moves to lay between your legs, keeping himself up with the help of his elbows sinking into the mattress as you notice the soft squint in his brows. Blindly reaching a hand to the nightstand, you grab his frames and gently prop them up onto his nose, smiling softly. “There,” Swiping his hair away once again, you smile as he thanks you, his thin frames making his eyes seem just a bit bigger, the nickname ‘Bambi’ even more fitting for him now.

Smiling as his cheeks seem to tint a bit at your gesture, you gently trace his glasses, tucking some longer hairs behind his ear before you settle your hand at the back of his neck, squeezing. “Now,” Trailing off, tone warm, yet holding a certain amount of teasing. “it’s 9, we still have time. So we can have sex, go out for some breakfast and then maybe go to sociology?” Proposing the schedule, his lips part, seemingly focusing on just the first part of the sentence to which he agrees with a dumb nod.

He’s gone to heaven, he thinks. Nothing can convince him otherwise as you kiss him again, ridding him of any coherent thought.

[mekakitsune]

caitlyn x vi x reader | nsfw - minors dni

as promised <3 extension of my last post but can be read separately

you, despite your confusion, were happy to hear violet was in contact with her sister once again. you had heard the stories, drunked and slurred as the pink haired girl poured her heart out.

what shocked you, was news of a certain someone finding her way back into violets life. you had respect for vi, for whatever her and caitlyn had going on. your job at the brothel came with many feelings, ones that you had trained yourself to push away. a job is a job, thats what youd tell yourself.

the night went by like any other as of recent, slow and barely steady, leaving you with not much else to do but pack up and find your way home. it was only a small amount of time after your curtains were closed for the night that you heard hushed voices in the hall.

"are you sure?" a voice spoke, seemingly uncertain in the unusually quiet halls of the brothel.

"just...trust me?" it was her, the girl you had seen many times over the last few weeks, the girl who had drunkenly poured her heart out to you in the very room you sat in. sometimes, it was sex, a way to make both of you forget the general dismay of the fissures. other times, you just talked, almost like a small, pitiful therapy session for the both of you.

you had told her to come back, had she needed anything, but to follow her heart, to find the girl that held the key.

the curtian slid open slowly revealing the pair. you gave a gentle, yet sad smile as your eyes locked onto vi's.

"i told you id come back....and look, i brought a friend" she joked with a nervous chuckle, but something in her voice seemed uncertain. you swear you noticed the other girl stifle a laugh with a roll of her eyes.

"im glad you made it safe, both of you." you gave a genuine smile. you knew way more than you should, but seeing violet seem more lively than before, and seemingly sober, you took their appearance together as a good thing.

"im sure the two of you had a lot to say about me, and i get it. it was a lot of miscommunication, on both parts, but i wanted to thank you...for being there for her." the dark haired girl spoke, leaving you surprised at her kind words. you half expected the girl to jump you, not thank you for sleeping with her so called "situationship."

"its what i do." you stated simply, giving the girl a bashful smile. this felt so different from any other client visit.

"she told me about you...how you took care of her." caitlyn spoke smoothly, moving to sit herself beside you on the couch, dangerously close.

"youre a good person for that." she placed her hand on your knee, causing your skin to tingle. vi moves to sit herself beside you on the opposite side, leaving you feeling slightly overcrowded suddenly.

"she did...did everything i needed her to." violet spoke, hand finding yours and giving it a comforting squeeze.

the air suddenly felt hot as the two girls shuffled impossibly close. cool fingers found your chin, belonging to caitlyn, moving your head to look at her. "we want to repay you." she purred, scanning your face carefully for any signs to back off.

"you dont need to pay me...i just thought it was the right thing to do, no strings attached." you spoke softly, words almost getting caught in your throat at the sudden attention from the girl.

caitlyn hummed at your response, a smirk on her pretty lips.

"you know, ever since vi told me about you, the two of us havent been able to stop thinking about you."

you turn slightly to look at vi, who nodded with a sly smile on her face. "s'true. best lay ive had in a long time." she poked your side teasingly, making you huff and laugh softly.

turning back to caitlyn, you spoke– "this isnt how i expected this meeting to go..." you confessed, mesmerized by how easy it was for these two to charm you.

"lifes full of surprises, isnt it?" caitlyn whispered, eyes trailing on your lips. your breath hitches as she leans in, lips almost touching where you suddenly wanted her.

"just say the words and we will stop." her breath tickled your skin, making your chest squeeze in anticipation.

"please dont." you barely manage to speak, and with the final confirmation, her lips press against yours. the kiss was hungry, sinful for just having met the girl. her tongue brushed your lips, and you immediately grant her access to what shes been craving. a whine sounds from your throat as a strong pair of hands find your hips from behind you, rubbing affectionately.

after a few more breathless moments, the girl pulls back from your lips. her eyes seem darker now, filled with something you couldn't place.

a shudder rips through you as vi's lips find your neck, pressing searing kisses against the skin.

"let us take care of you." she muttered between nips on the delicate skin.

you nod desperately, back pressing against her firm chest. caitlyn moves in front of you gracefully, fingers finding the ribbons of your robe, untying it with experienced fingers. the fabric falls down your shoulders revealing your breasts, making both girls hum in approval.

caitlyns hands find home on your chest, squeezing softly and smirking at the cute whines leaving your lips and the arch of your spine. she moves forward to press calculated kisses along the exposed flesh. her lips move to your nipples, sucking the bud softly as you pant beneath her. vi's hands move from your hips to push away the pool of fabric, leaving you bare. caitlyn moves to give vi a silent demand, which the girl immediately obeys. she pulls away from your back just enough to slip her fingers under her own shirt, pulling it off after she shrugs off her jacket. youre pulled back against her with much force, causing you to gasp, the feeling of the warm skin of her breasts against your back making you undeniably soaked.

caitlyns hands move to your thighs, spreading them in a sinful yet delicious manner. she shuffles herself so she is between your legs, and her lips press kissed along your lower stomach and thighs. you gasp and your hips buck into her as she leaves small bites along your plush skin.

after much teasing and marking you up, you feel her breath on your core. you feel her blow cool air onto your dripping pussy, making you moan loudly.

caitlyn laughs slightly at your reaction. "you were right vi, she is cute." she smiled at the display infront of her. vi huffs a laugh against your neck in response –"told ya."

a whine sounds from you again and caitlyn decides she cant hold herself back any longer. the moment her tongue touches your cunt, electric sparks tingle up your spine, making you buck into her once again. her pace is steady, licking and sucking at your swollen clit and dripping hole. once shes deemed you ready, her fingers play with your hole before sliding in two slim digits. you gasp at the intrusion and arch against the girl sat behind you, who is very clearly enjoying the show. vi's lips find your neck again, sucking pretty purple splotches into your heated skin.

it was incredibly overwhelming, the lips on your neck paired with the fingers in your cunt. you were getting close embarrassingly quick, despite having sex for a living. you had never felt so taken care of, so...noticed.

caitlyn watches intently as her fingers slid in and out at a steady pace, moving her head back down to lap at your clit once again. you clench around her fingers tightly, gasping and moaning into the back of your hand. suddenly, a strong hand rips your own away from your lips.

"dont get shy now pretty girl, show her how good shes making you feel, let us hear it." vi muttered into your neck, making you spiral even deeper.

you mind was beginning to fog and your cunt was undeniably dripping onto the couch below, but you didnt care. not when caitlyn was eating you out like you were her last fucking meal. your hips shuddering and your whines pitching told both girls you were close to cumming.

"cum for us baby, let us see it." vi rasped from behind you, hands squeezing at your sensitive chest.

her words were more than enough to push you over the edge, along with caitlyns steady thrusts. she licks at your pussy as you moan shamelessly. you cum hard around her fingers and into her mouth, not missing the groan ripping from caitlyns throat as she swallows everything you give her. she doesnt stop until your panting hard, hips bucking and thighs shaking. she pulls away after letting you ride it out, moving up to slot herself between your thighs. her fingers find your chin as she pulls you into another kiss, this time much messier and far less calculated. you whine against her lips quitely, unintentionally following her as she pulls away. before you can protest, shes leaning over your shoulder and slamming her lips against vi's, making her moan at the taste of you on her girlfriends tongue. you watch in awe as the two girls kiss feverishly.

after a moment caitlyn pulls back again, this time looking down at you. her chest is heaving and her lips are swollen, its an incredible sight to behold.

"i want to see her make you cum now." she nods at vi, who immediately grabs your hips and flips you over so you are beneath her.

"you can give us another, right princess?" vi smirks at your shocked expression, large hands rubbing your thighs.

what have you gotten yourself into? something told you it was going to be a long night.

TAGLIST: @frsnkxie @themoonitselff

let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in future works!

[ramblin-tiger]

Love the last panel referencing the fishtail and how they made that sound XD

On a serious note, I can feel everything about this, but In a different way.

Growing up, I moved a lot, so I never really had consistent friends bc of that. That made me the defacto outsider anywhere I was. So I never *really* cared about what people thought of my in the sense of fashion or likes. It was basically the norm that I was the weird goofy kid who was always reading and cracking jokes with people who liked me, and raging at people who would pick on me. That being said, what was it that I really liked?

Well, nothing, really.

Never being part of the "in" crowd ment i also diddnt really know what was popular or cool. Sure, I loved reading and eventually playing cards (tcgs), but beyond that I was pretty simple person.

So i guess in that sense, "my style" was just plain unassuming person that you'd never really notice until my flashbang-of-a-sudden-laugh would get your attention.

I never understood what was in style or fashion at any given time, so I was just myself.

It just happened to be that myself was a plain unimpressive kid that was face deep in a book 85% of the time, and joking with the few people I'd get along with 10% of the time. Oh, and an insanely angry kid that reeeeaaallllly wanted to beat the shit out of bullies.

fake conversation talking animals

[deadhands69]

Ramen & Rain

Katsuki Bakugo x gn Reader

Ramen Date

just a weird fluff Bakugo fic mostly written at 3am. not quite the direction it was intended to go but it still ends ish as planned. mentions of angst, turns into fluff.

“Sorry for your breakup,” you say to the messy haired blonde seated next to you at the hero rankings after-party, “are you doing okay?”

“Huh?” he grumbled before remembering the bullshit his PR team spun earlier that week. 

“Oh, that.” He sits uncomfortably, staring down the tablecloth at the tiny high top the two of you were perched at. “Um, that was fake.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, my PR team thinks it’ll humanize me to date likable people so they have me take models and whatever on dates.” He pauses, considering if he’d like to tell you the next part, “and a few times they also did this when I was photographed with one night stands. I guess that’s not so likable either or something,” he mumbles down at his lap.  

Your thoughts flash back to every headline you’d read about pro-hero Dynamite’s intriguing love life. Much to his team’s credit, you did fall for it.

“So, you haven’t actually dated any of those girls in the pictures?” 

“Nope,” his finishes his drink, hoping the glass blocked at least some of his blushing face.

“Have you dated anyone?”

“Have you?” he retorts, barely able to make eye contact.

Please say no, he hopes. 

He tried to ask you out once, in your second year of high school together. But he was going through some things. And you are you. He couldn’t imagine you being interested in anything but perfect when it’s what you deserve. One day, he figured, he could give you that. So he waited.

And of course you had no idea he liked you. Not when his way of showing it was hitting you harder while sparing, having higher expectations of you than everyone else, and exploding at you every time you so much as glanced at him (because he thought you caught him staring.)

“Well, there was Shouto in high school,” you begin.

Of course Bakugo knows about this, he hated it. 

You and Shouto had been best friends since halfway through your first year. So, it didn't surprise too many people in your third year when he asked you to go out with him. Of course you had a massive crush on him for years at that point. He's beautiful, who in your class hadn't been into him?

And it was… Cute. 

While it lasted. 

You held hands. He walked you to class. The two of you always had meals together, but it felt different once you were officially together. You never kissed or anything but that's okay, it was new. 

Exactly nine days and four hours is when it all came crashing down. 

Feeling worked after training, you went to bed early. You'd meet up with your boyfriend in the morning. No big deal. 

Little did you know, your puppy love relationship was falling apart before your head even hit the pillow. 

“Hey, Icy Hot! What are you doing checking out Ponytail when you're already dating the hottest person in our class?” Bakugo berated Todoroki. 

Confused, he responded as bluntly as he ever did, “but y/n isn't the hottest one in our class. Momo is.”

Katsuki’s red eyes pierced through him, clearly he was missing something. 

“Wait, are you not dating y/n??”

“No, I am.”

“...then what the fuck.”

After much back and forth, it came out that Iida told Todoroki everyone should aspire to date their best friend. He took that to heart and asked you out without considering if he like liked you. 

He didn't. 

And he told you that the next morning.

It’s not Shouto’s fault his comprehension of human emotion is so limited. This didn’t make being broken up with by him any easier though. Everything was matter of fact, no sugar coating. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” you mumbled to your feet, trying to think of any excuse to leave and save yourself the embarrassment of bursting into tears in front of your classmates. His mismatched eyes stared at you, still confused about the whole situation. 

“I have to go finish some homework now, see ya later.” Turning away, you hope you played it off well enough. No one seemed to notice as you walked heavily through the common space with a face made of stone until you reached the elevator. 

Bakugo did though, and he was pissed at Todoroki for fumbling so hard that you got hurt. Their already unstable friendship took a massive hit after that. Eventually, after a lot of adjusting, Katsuki reasoned he could be okay with you dating someone else if it meant you were happy (and they were perfect and checked every single box he decided someone would need to in order to be worthy of you.) This wasn’t it though.

“I don't mean high school. That one didn't count, ” he says, remembering how helpless he felt watching you being heartbroken when you never did anything to deserve it. 

“Okay, well there was…”

The girl you were with for a whole month before discovering she was a villain, just using you because she thought she could get top secret information. She didn’t.

Then there was the guy you met at a coffee shop who stuck around for a while. He thought you were attractive but didn’t want more than sex and wasn’t sure how to bring that up. You being a hero was terrifying to him and he thought you’d stop sleeping with him when you realized that’s all he was there for. You did. 

And Shinsou, who had the most amicable breakup with. He’s nocturnal and you’re well, not quite. After not seeing each other for three weeks, you decided your schedules just weren’t compatible and called it. No media outlets picked up on it since there was nothing to pick up on. 

Bakugo shifts uncomfortably in front of you. Brows furrowed and face unreadable to most. A twinge of jealousy overtakes him. Sure, the two of you haven’t talked much since graduation, but he still has feelings for you. And hearing about all the losers who had a chance when he never did didn’t sit right with him.

On top of that, admittedly, he also feels guilty. Maybe if he'd asked you out all those years ago he could have saved you from this pain. His assumption you’d settle for nothing but perfect had been shattered, leaving him to accept that he shouldn’t have left you craving closeness from anyone but him. He should have been there. 

He’s here now though. At this point in life, he knows he isn’t perfect but he could at least do better than everyone else you mentioned. If you let him.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks abruptly.

“What?”

“Wanna go somewhere else? The food sucks here, there’s a good ramen shop that’s open late down the street.” 

“You asking me on a date, Dynamite?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he replies dead serious, “I am.”

 Suddenly you’re the one feeling flustered. A date with Katsuki Bakugo? 

After a quick stop at coat check, the two of you are out the door. Running down the marble stairs to the rough sidewalk, his hand lightly around your wrist to guide you. A rain storm earlier left the streets glimmering, neon reflections from the surrounding shops. A few people trickle in and out of businesses in the typically bustling area, but tonight it feels like a ghost town. 

Then you’re there.

He pulls you through an unassuming door. With a quick wave to the person behind the counter, they informally gesture the two of you towards the small seating area. 

Sit wherever.

You slide over the cracked upholstery at a table in the corner. The pink sign lighting up the window casts a glow over his face, the warm color suits him.

When you left your place earlier, you never expected to end up on a date. Especially not here. The location being as much of a surprise as his sudden interest. 

Sure, you always thought he was cute, but you never knew him. He spent all of high school keeping you at arm’s length. Then after, you’ve spent years basing your assumptions about Bakugo off the headlines you’d read. The dates he went on. Always models and idols. Fancy restaurants, valets, and expensive cars.

But this is real.

Across the table, you watch as he slides his suit jacket off. You hadn’t realized how stuffy the atmosphere was earlier until you see him relax, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up. You forgot about the scars.

The woman running the shop approaches to take your order, not bothering to ask him - it appears he gets the same thing every time he comes in. Having been distracted, you quickly pick the first menu item that jumps out to you. She disappears into the kitchen.

“So, what do you want,” he asks, sitting too casually for the depth of the conversation he’s bringing up. He needs to ask though, otherwise how will he know what to do? “You told me what didn’t work but not what you actually wanted in any of that.”

“I guess I haven’t thought about it. I’ve just been working and-”

“Bullshit,” direct, but his tone is playful as he flashes a slightly crooked smile at you.

Two bowls of ramen float through the air to your table - likely the quirk of the woman before. You’re glad for the momentary distraction, giving you time to consider your answer. The food arrived suspiciously fast but with one sip from the oversized spoon, you know it’s amazing. 

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. 

“Like I’d take you somewhere shitty,” he laughs, “still dodging my question?”

“No,” you pause, pulling a piece of bok choy from the bowl while you consider, “not a villain would be nice.”

“Bar’s that low, huh?”

“...and being able to spend time together at least once a week would be good.”

“Only once a week?” he scoffs, “too easy.”

“What about you?”

He says nothing for a while, chasing a green onion around his spicy ramen with his chopsticks.

“This is good,” he mumbles suddenly uncharacteristically shy, “like a real, actual date.”

Looks like you aren’t the only one with lowered standards.

“Too easy,” you smile.

If he told you how serious of a relationship he actually wants with you, he might scare you off. This is a great start though.

Abruptly, he changes the topic to hero work. You compare stories, scars. 

He tells you how he got the small mark on his neck from a villain with a slashing quirk. How he took out a small area of buildings before Bakugo arrived to apprehend him.

You show him a similar scar on your wrist after the same villain escaped prison. 

The evening passes far too quickly.

As he approaches the counter to pay, you don’t miss the exchange between him and the older woman working. She looks overjoyed, saying something while glancing at you in the booth. He smiles awkwardly, his flushed face apparent even in the dim neon lighting.

“Alright, let’s get outta here,” he asserts while grabbing both of your hands to pull you to your feet.

“Can I take you out again?” he asks, as your feet have barely hit the pavement.

“Yeah.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Perfect.”

more Bakugo: masterlist

[shrimpybbq]

the thought of drew and obx actress!reader sweeping award season with their crime drama😍 maybe it’s about 2/3 seasons too to really get their characters yearning…

Hehe they’re on the red carpet at the Emmy’s with the rest of the cast but they’ve split off together to do interviews. The reporters are ecstatic at getting the main actor and actress of the hottest tv show this year in front of them. Ever the gentleman, Drew has his hand resting on her lower back as he guides them through the interview line ups.

“So Drew! Y/N! How are we feeling? Your show is predicted to sweep the awards tonight - what’s that feeling like?”

Drew looks over and obx actress!reader before smirking cheekily. “I mean… I’m honoured,” he drawled, laughing as he received a playful swat to his chest at the now-famous remark. “No, but really, it’s really rewarding to know that people are liking and appreciating our work. Just a big thank you to everyone who has watched our little show. For letting us put two seasons out as well - it’s amazing to see people have faith in us.”

When the reporter turned to obx!actress reader, she spoke too, “Pretty much just echoing Drew, but it’s been quite intense! You know, you always have hope that your project is going to do well, but seeing the way this has blown up and the love from the fans for us and these characters has been incredible!”

Drew nodded alongside her. The cameras caught the way the pair had subtly begun to lean into each other, though it was clear neither was aware of it.

“And guys, coming from Outer Banks to this kind of show, it must be crazy! You two played an on-off couple before, but now for your characters, the stakes are a lot higher. What would you say has been the most important thing to help you portray this different kind of relationship, especially balancing the really challenging scenes you’re filming?”

Drew reached for the mic first, looking towards obx actress!reader momentarily for approval before speaking. “Yeah, I think knowing each other for so long beforehand was probably the most important thing. We would always debrief after scenes and check in to make sure we were both good, just keeping ourselves in good condition.”

He passed the mic to the shorter woman by his side, turning his attention to her.

“When you’re filming scenes that put you on edge and really push you out of your comfort zone, having people you feel safe with is just so invaluable. Pedro was great with that too, and all the cast on the show really recognised the nature of what we were portraying. Drew and I had a routine that each evening after filming, we would go and get ice cream from this place near the set and just chill. It was really great to just sit silently and eat for a while, you know?”

The interviewer nodded, incredibly pleased with the answers she’d managed to get from the pair so far.

“Ok! So my last question before you go is this - who is the best dancer on the set? Drew, I know you love to show off your dance moves, but there are quite a few great dancers in the cast!”

The pair both thought silently for a moment, before obx actress!reader leaned into the mic, “it has to be Pedro! He loves a quick dance party in between takes.”

“I’m also gonna go with Pedro,” Drew chimed in.

The interviewer grinned widely, thanking them quickly as their publicist began to shuffle the actors over to the next interview stand. The camera caught the pair waving goodbye as they moved over, not failing to capture the way Drew’s hand still rested on obx actress!reader’s back. This time though, her hand was resting on his bicep as she turned to talk to him, their bodies pressed closely together. The interviewer thanked her lucky stars that the pair were so touchy because her editor was going to love this.

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Friends? Just Friends?

After years of being friends with Billie, the sexual tension comes to an all time high and can’t be ignored any longer. You finally let her teach you exactly what it feels like to be with a woman

This is super long but I promise it’s worth it ;)

Y/N Pov

I walk over to the speaker, turn it on, and ask Billie what playlist she wants to hear. It’s a chill Sunday afternoon, and after Billie and I woke up around noon, we’ve been lying in bed watching TikTok and yapping. Billie slept over last night after a late night at a friend's party. It seems like these days I don’t spend many nights without Billie in my bed, or me in hers. We’ve been friends for years but a while ago we both expressed how bored and lonely we each had been, and started hanging out almost all the time. Now a few months later, she's definitely my best friend, always attached to each other's hips. I finally pulled myself out of bed a little while ago, and now it is unfortunately time for my Sunday routine. Billie knows it well by now since she’s been forced to be a part of it week after week.

“Let's do some bossa nova this week, I’m in the mood to move my hips” Billie laughs back at my question. We’ve bonded over our love for international music and it has been slowly added into the Sunday routine, choosing a different type each week once I finally force myself out of bed, cleaning up my room while Billie's lazy ass stays under the comfy sheets goofing off on her phone and telling me all her crazy thoughts. She starts seductively moving her hips beneath the blankets as she laughs and hums to the Brazilian guitar purring through the speaker. I look over at her as I lean down to pick up the dirty clothes that have accumulated in the corner of my room, laughing back at her.

As I stand up and try to turn around, I feel my foot slide out from under me, seemingly having been planted on a dirty pair of underwear I missed. I hit the floor with a loud thunk and Billie darts to the corner of the bed, not even trying to hide her laughter as she tries to calm down long enough to ask if I’m okay. I turn my head to follow her voice, and all I can see is her head extending off the bed, hovering over me, leaving me laughing just as loud as she is. “Oh my god, I will never not make fun of your clutsy ass ending up on the floor” she yells out between her giggles, trying hard to catch her breath as she points down at me laughing more as she mocks my fake hurt face.

I grab the first thing I can find next to me and throw it at her face before pretending I’m mad, yelling for her to quit being a bitch and help me get up. She dramatically dodges whatever it is coming for her face then leans her hand up catching it. As she opens her hand and realizes it's my black thong I wore last night, she acts as if shes absolutely disgusted before she laughs and throws it back at me. “Bitch don’t you ever throw ur crusty ass panties at my face again,” she says with a tight smile, letting me know she doesn’t actually care. I open my mouth gasping at her words, “crusty? Whose panties you calling crusty cuz they sure as hell aren’t mine” I say, before standing up from the floor and grabbing them to add them to the laundry bin. “My kitty is nice and clean, and so are my underwear,” I add, as I turn to her, knowing she hates when I call it my kitty.

“Yea yea,” she laughs, before jumping off the bed, “I bet it is,” she whispers, leaning her head close to mine before winking and walking to the bathroom. I take a second to look for something next to say, not coming up with anything. Billie and I have always walked a fine line of flirting and just joking around as friends. It's clear we both do it, but we’ve never acknowledged it. Instead, it just stays in our presence, like a thick tension we pretend we don’t feel. I feel it all too well though, always holding an intense attraction to her, since the day I met her. Quite honestly it was even before that, when I was still just a fan of hers and never thought I’d end up her best friend. That is another whole story though.

Ever since I told Billie I thought I might be gay, the tension has only grown, yet we continue not to recognize it, like we are both terrified of what might happen if we do. I decide in a split second to be bold, regretting the words as soon as they come out of my mouth, “Nice and clean and with no one to show it to,” Billie whips her head back at me with a smile, toothpaste spilling out the sides as she laughs and wipes it away, rubbing it shamelessly on the big t-shirt she slept in. I giggle a bit before finding my confidence again. Maybe this damn bossa nova is getting to my head but I feel the tension as thick as its ever been. I catch a look in her eyes that I haven’t seen before, like shes thinking about what I look like under these boxers. “No *girl* to show it to”, adding emphasis to my words as I correct my previous statement.

I turn around and walk towards my desk as silence falls between us. I begin picking up all the makeup on my vanity, continuing on with my cleaning, letting the bossa nova fill my head again. I can hear Billie finishing in the bathroom, clinking her toothbrush on the side of the sink before setting it back in the cup and walking into my room again. She settles on the edge of the bed in criss-cross, watching me clean and hum along with the guitar.

“So you’ve thought more about it then, huh?” she asks me delicately, knowing we haven’t talked about it in a while. I look into the mirror and find her eyes on the bed behind me, eyes that have already found me. I turn around to face her before I shrug my shoulder. “I mean I think about it constantly, I just feel so nervous about it all. I really think I’m into women but I don't know where to go from here” I answer her, but continue on after a brief pause. “Actually, I know I’m into women, regardless it's scary as fuck…. Women are scary as fuck” I laugh out. “You’re cute,” Billie says with a little giggle. It comes out in a friendly way, but the way she continues to stare at me after she says it doesn’t match the solely friendly tone of voice. I pick up a shirt lying on the bench of my vanity and throw it at her head, harder than the panties this morning. It hits her right on the forehead and she sprawls out on the bed dramatically, acting far more hurt than she was. “Oh stop being dramatic and get ur lazy ass up, it's time to go downstairs and clean the kitchen,” I say as I walk over and pull her up by her arms. As I let go and walk out of the room with Billie following behind me, I turn to look at her, “at least it wasn’t another pair of my nasty crusty disgusting thongs” I saw with a big mocking smile, puckering my lips sending her fake kisses like we always do when we are making fun of each other. Yet again we have managed to completely ignore the tension we are both choking on.

TIME JUMP TO THAT NIGHT

Billie and I are sitting on the couch waiting for our postmates to arrive and watching some shitty rom com on that we both picked from the image alone. We already had cold vegan pizza for dinner and are on our second bottle of wine. This is just another classic sunday evening, junk food, wine, and a postmated dessert to finish off the normal routine. When I first met Billie I watched as she drank her sodas and water while everyone else around her drank mixed drinks and beer. She made it clear publicly that she didnt drink, and when I finally asked her why she told me she had no problem with alcohol or the idea of drinking she just hated every drink she ever tried.

One night when we very first started these constant sleepovers she tried a taste of my favorite wine and loved it. A few weeks later she and I shared a bottle and I had the privilege of watching her experience the drunk world for the first time. Nowadays, we usually each have a glass every Sunday night, and occasionally we will have a girl's night and drink more than a few glasses while we watch shitty movies. Tonight was turning into one of those nights, having just stocked up on our favorite when I went to Target earlier. I walk into the kitchen to pop open the second bottle and ask if Billie wants more. She excitedly grabs her glass and runs into the kitchen after me, purposely sliding with her socks on the kitchen tile as she laughs.

The couple of times Billie has ever been drunk have all been with me, and it’s very clear she is a goofy drunk. This girl is already the funniest person I know when she is sober, but being around her while she's drunk has my abs hurting from laughing. She is quite a lightweight, with her infrequent drinking and her tiny body, so usually we just finish a bottle and a half, before we get messy drunk. We both enjoy being just past tipsy, still in control, still with a filter to our thoughts, but just a little more light-hearted and silly.

When we finish the movie and go in for a refill before starting a new one, we look at each other shocked when we pour out the last drops of the second bottle. “Did we drink all of that?” Billie laughs, her cheeks rosy and her eyes big. “Ruh roh” she yells out before laughing and lifting her glass to take the last sip. “I think we just broke our pathetic previous record,” I giggle back at her. “Should we open another??” she asks me, her words making it clear she is leaving it up for me to decide. I can tell she’s never been this drunk, yet I know she’s nowhere near dangerous drunk, or even messy drunk. “Fuck it let's do it” I shout a little too loudly before I grab another bottle out of the fridge.

TIME JUMP (Smutty time)

Our empty wine glasses are sitting on the coffee table in front of us as we lay under the blankets and watch the movie the TV put on automatically after our first movie finished. We are about 20 minutes in and it's becoming incredibly clear this is not at all similar to the cheesy straight rom-com that came before it. I feel my breath catch in my throat and all the wine-filled blood run to my center when the TV fills with the images of two women making out, one being thrown on the bed while the other climbs on top of her. As the sex scene keeps going, I remember that this is Netflix, and they are putting straight-up soft porn in their movies now.

I feel the pool forming in my underwear as I watch this graphic, incredibly hot lesbian sex scene play out in front of me. My drunk face must not be hiding what I'm feeling well because as Billie turns to look at me, she lets out a loud laugh. “Baby you look like a deer in headlights,” she says, still quietly giggling, her drunkenness showing through in the sound of her laughter. I swallow loudly before looking at her and then back at the TV. The moans get louder as we watch one of the girls reach her peak, the other continuing to go down on her. I shift awkwardly on the couch, trying not to make it too obvious how much that affected me, how turned on it got me. The combination of the wine, the hot lesbian sex in front of us, and the sexually charged tension Billie and I shared earlier is making it impossible for me to look Billie in the eyes, too scared of what I might say or do. Billie is still staring at me as my eyes stay glued on the screen, the scene still playing out. I feel her torso lifting up from the couch and getting closer to me before smiling and whispering, “You wish that was you, huh? Sitting here wondering what it must be like to get fucked by a girl… or fuck a girl yourself” she stays close to me, swallowing and giggling before continuing. “It's fucking incredible, better than you could even imagine,” she says matter of factly. The tension is as thick as it could possibly get, almost like I could see it taking over my entire body, and just by looking at Billie it's clear she feels it too.

Before I can stop myself, I spring towards Billie. My momentum picking up as I get closer. Realizing what I’m doing, I pause, scared to move at all. Billie grabs my face, pulling me the rest of the way to her and our lips crash together. Months of building tension all explode at once as our tongues slide against each other, eagerly slipping between one another's lips, no longer hiding how badly we want each other. “Show me, Billie,” I say, pulling back enough to get my words out and swallow. “Show me what it feels like to be with a girl,” I finish. “you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say those words” she confesses as she stands up, pulling my hand to follow her to my room. We both lightly stumble down the hallway, giggling from the wine and the anticipation of what is to come.

As we make our way into my room I turn on my favorite lamp- it has a dark pink light bulb that glows so nicely in my room at night. I throw myself onto the bed and land right next to Billie, both of us taking a second to laugh at my ridiculous jump before getting quiet again. She turns on her side to face me and I do the same. My hair falls in front of my face as I turn. Billie’s hand comes up, brushing it out of the way before kissing me again, pulling me in tight against her as our legs dance together. Her leg finds its way between mine and as our kiss gets heated again she pushes up against my core. I let out a slight whine as Billie’s hands hit my waist, pushing me harder against her thigh and pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horny, been so wet, or wanted someone more in my life. Billie’s head finds its way to my neck as she begins placing light kisses against my skin. When she bites down and pushes her thigh against my clit harder, I let out a deep moan that I swear has been growing in me for months. “Mmmmhhhmm, Billie…” I huff as I begin grinding my hips shamelessly against her thigh, begging for any pleasure at this point. Billie's shorts have slid all the way up her leg, leaving her thigh bare and able to feel my soaked shorts gliding against her as I move my hips faster.

I feel her wet lips hit my ear, biting it gently as she breathes out. It is as if my body is on fire, every single nerve ending I have lighting up at once, every touch suddenly feeling sexual. I am melting at her every move and she hasn’t even touched me yet. If this is what it feels like to be with a girl, I want it forever. “Billie please” I whine out, desperation filling my voice as I grind my core harder against her. My wet shorts rub tightly against my clit with every move I make and I feel like I could cum from this alone. A slight embarrassment creeps up, slowing my hips as I realize how close I am to cumming, just from her thigh against my pussy. I grab the back of her head as she continues sucking and biting on my neck. Quiet moans continue spilling from my lips as my head begins to race. Is this a thing in lesbian sex? Am I crazy for doing this? Should I stop?

As my mind continues to take control and ruin my pleasure Billie interrupted the thoughts, almost as if she could hear them out loud. “Don’t stop grinding on my thigh until I feel your cum drench my skin, keep going for me Y/N I know it feels good” Her words are exactly what I needed, making my pussy clench tightly. I grab her chin and pull her into a deep kiss as her hands snake under my shirt and reach my bare chest. She squeezes my big boobs hard before pinching my nipple, giggling as I yelp into her mouth. She continues toying with my hard nipples as I pull away from her lips, too caught up in the pleasure to keep kissing. Each time she pinches and pulls at my bud I groan louder and move my hips faster. Billie catches on quickly, continuing her fun on my boobs, dragging me closer and closer to the edge, flooding every part of my body with overwhelming pleasure. I find my way to her neck, needing to feel closer to her, placing open-mouth kisses all over. I earn a quiet gasp from her when I hit a sweet spot, and latch on tighter.

As I kiss her harder, biting on her skin, continuing to pull moans from her, she suddenly pushes her thigh in a new angle right as I speed up my movements, throwing me over the edge. I grab her tight, pulling her as close to me as she can possibly be. My head is still nuzzled into her neck, my mouth hanging open as loud moans pour from my lips, lips that continuing lightly connect with her skin. My legs shake as she grabs both my hips and continues to move them for me, allowing me to ride out my orgasm for as long as possible. I hold my breath, shocked at the pleasure I am experiencing just from her thigh on my body. A light hum sings from her lips as I finally come down from such a powerful orgasm. I hold her tight as I catch my breath, needing to feel her close to me, trying to process the feelings I am beginning to understand, feelings I felt for her for a long time. Billie giggles as she rubs my back, helping ground me and letting me take my time with my descent back to earth. I finally pull my head from out of her neck and grab her face, needing to kiss her hard before anything is said, trying to gather my thoughts. I let my back fall onto the mattress as I laugh and breath out, still shocked at what was happening, shocked that Billie, my best friend, the girl I’ve secretly been attracted to for years, just pushed me to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

“there ya go baby,” Billie says as she climbs on top of me, grabbing my chin, pulling me in for an intensely hot kiss before placing her lips on my forehead. “now let me clean you up” she whispers in between kisses, kisses that started as pecks and are now becoming more and more sloppy. She lifts my shirt up and I grab it, pulling it over my head needing to be free. “Can I see you too Billie?” I ask, a slight innocence and vulnerability peaking out of my words as I hold my fingers at the base of her shirt, slightly sliding it up. She smiles and sits up, tugging the shirt over her head and reaching behind her, immediately taking off her sexy black lace bra. My heart skips a beat when I watch her perfect big boobs drop to their natural, beautiful position. I lay myself up on my elbows pulling her closer, needing them in my mouth. I kiss lightly before wrapping my lips all the way around her nipple, circling my tongue around her bud as one of my hands plays with her free boob. “Ooo baby fuck… y/n mmmm” she sings, her hands pushing my head towards her as I continue on exploring her breasts.

She pushes me away and lays her own lips on my chest, eagerly moving down my body. “I need to taste you, mama, take these slutty little shorts off for me” She pulls at the waistband as I lift my hips up, helping her slide them off of me before laying back down. Her words make my pussy clench, pushing out more of my juices. She grabs both my thighs gripping them hard as she spreads them, groaning loudly as she sees my wet core for the first time ever. I swallow hard, the vulnerability of my exposed pussy hitting me all at once, wanting to hide from her, covering my face with my arm. Billie clearly senses my emotions, knowing me all too well. She places a light kiss on my upper thigh, then another on the other side. “Oh y/n you’re so perfect… sexier than I could have ever imagined,” she kisses my upper thigh again before continuing, “and I’ve thought about it a lot” I whine at her words, the hunger pushing away the vulnerability, and right as I’m about to beg for her tongue, she latches on. Still so sensitive from my last orgasm, I’m unable to hold in any of my moans, immediately drunk from the pleasure yet again. I grab her hair hard and push her against me as my hips buck. “Fuck Billie your tongue feels so good” my moans interrupt my own words, throwing my head back as her tongue circles my swollen clit. “oh baby, fuck Billie please don’t stop, fuck” my words fuel her on as she gets even more intense. It feels like she’s devouring me, eating me alive like she's been starved forever. She comes up for air and we make eye contact. I swallow back my drool as I stare at her, unable to process just how sexy she looks. Her eyes look black from her massive lust-filled pupils and her chin is covered in my cum, dripping down as she licks her lips. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good, mmm I can’t get enough of you” and with that her tongue is back on me, flicking and slurping, swallowing and circling, tasting every inch of my core.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, two fingers pump into me, filling me perfectly. I gasp and shake underneath her, beginning to feel overstimulated by the pleasure she gives me. I feel as if im floating, like this is all just a fever dream, it cant be possible for sex to feel this good. “God, fuck, baby. Fuck Billie yesssss” I struggle to get my words out as my hands dart around the bed, trying to find anything to grab hold of, something to anchor me to this bed as I feel my stomach contracting. “I feel you pulsing on my fingers mama, let go for me, cum on my fingers like the good girl I know you are” Her voice is raspy and low, sexier than I’ve ever heard it before. Her nasty words flood my mind and I scream as I feel her lips wrapped around my clit again, sucking and licking as she curves her fingers upward and hits my g-spot. She keeps devouring me and moaning into my pussy as she speeds her fingers up and I feel like I’m about to black out. Thank god I live alone because I don’t think I’ve ever been louder in my life. “Billie Im about to cum, fuck it feels so good please don’t stop” She smiles into my cunt as she flicks her fingers inside of me, doing a come here motion as she pumps them in and out, stimulating me in a way I have never been stimulated before. It feels like she knows my body better than I even do, like shes been fucking me like this for years. She keeps up the motions of her fingers as she flattens out her tongue and pushes it hard against my clit, moving her head side to side. “Oh my goddddd” I scream out as I begin shaking underneath her, being hit with my second orgasm, one that is somehow twice as strong as the first. “Fuck Billie yes fuck” I can’t get all my words out before needing to scream and moan again. “Im cumming baby fuck, f-fuckkkkkkk”

the last of my sentence turns into a deep moan as she keeps going. Keeps plowing her fingers into me, keeps moving her tongue side to side on my clit, keeps lighting me up with intense pleasure. I feel a new sensation as she continues to overstimulate me. It’s something I’ve never felt before and it's stronger than any orgasm I’ve ever had. “Wait billie, fuck, please oh god” She lifts her head up from my clit but speeds up her fingers. My eyes are squeezed shut and my lungs are frozen, unable to breath. I feel like my body is full of stars, like im no longer all the way here. My knuckles ache from how tightly im grabbing the sheets but somehow the pain fuels my orgasm more as it continues to take control of my body. “Billie stop I think i’m about to—” I can’t get my words out fast enough before the gates open and I pour out all over her chest and fingers, squirting hard. I try to move my hips but she grabs me, holding me where I am as I continue spilling out onto her. Screams meet with the wet sounds of my pleasure and I can’t take it any longer. “Okay okay billie fuck im done, im done” I say as my back returns down on the bed and I feel air fill my lungs again. My legs continue to shake and my pussy clenches around her fingers in a rhythm, like it has a heartbeat of its own.

She lays her head down on my thigh as she slowly pulls her fingers out of me. The movement causes me to groan and shake again, a clear indication of just how overstimulated I am. She looks at me, making sure I’m watching as she licks her fingers clean, moaning at the taste of them. As I sit up on my elbows and watch her lick her lips I look down to see her boobs covered in all my juices, wet and dripping, as sexy as they could possibly be. She catches me looking and smirks. “If I wasn’t so fucked out I would be licking my juices off those sexy boobs” I say with a new found confidence. She crawls up me and kisses me softly, letting my tongue slip between her lips and around hers. “You taste good don’t you baby” she moans, before pulling me tight against her naked wet chest. Our boobs rub together and our connection feels electric. “You know I’ve never squirted before, you’re the first” I say, glowing from all the pleasure I just experienced. “I didn’t even know sex

could feel that good” i laugh admitting it then feeling embarrassed. “Welcome to sex with women” she giggles as the words come out, “I feel lucky to be the first of many for you baby, I’ve been wanting you for so damn long, I gotta admit it” she kisses me on my cheek and grabs my nipple playfully making me yelp. “I been dreaming about this for a long time too, Billie” I confess with a smile, looking back at her. “Good things there’s a whole lot more firsts for me to have” I say playfully as I grab her boob again.

I pull her closer to me, both of us back on our sides facing eachother. I crave a type of intimacy with her that I have avoided with every one of my partners for years. Maybe I really am gay and it’s just because shes a woman. Or, maybe, if I let myself really think about it, its because its Billie. My hand falls over her body onto her bare back and my fingers begin lightly dancing over her skin. She snuggles into me tighter and humms. Being in Billie’s arms feels like home. My cheeks flush as I realize that the love I feel for her is not the love you feel for a friend, it is so so much more than that. Its the type of love that terrifies me, or at least it has in the past. For some reason I don't feel scared at all right now, I feel quite the opposite actually.

I continue rubbing her back as our breathing slows, both melting into one another. She breaks the silence with a silky voice, “I think I could stay like this forever” my heart skips a beat at her confession, bringing a calm warmth throughout my body. “I’d like that a lot Billie” she lifts her head from the crook of my neck just long enough to place a kiss on my forehead, before snuggling back into me tighter. We lay like this for a minute before I interrupt. I giggle quietly to myself and she looks up with a curious expression, her eyebrows knit together but a smirk on her lips, “what the hell are you so giggly about?” she says, laughing with me now. “Does this mean,” I giggle again slightly more bashfully this time, before I continue. “Does this mean I get to learn all about lessssbbiiann sexxxxx with you?” I can’t help but say it in a goofy, slightly mocking tone, emphasising my purposefully ridiculous word choice. “Sure does baby girl, sure doesssssssss” She laughs out, matching the playful energy. “Ooo la la” I sing, pulling a laugh from both of us as we lay back down. I can’t help but feel overwhelming excitement for whats to come.

Should I continue on with the story??

[marmotsomsierost]

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Pratchett: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

P: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

P: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus. Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself."

(Terry Pratchett in an interview with the Onion)

J. R. R. Tolkien, undisputedly a most fluent speaker of this language, was criticized in his day for indulging his juvenile whim of writing fantasy, which was then considered—as it still is in many quarters— an inferior form of literature and disdained as mere “escapism.” “Of course it is escapist,” he cried. “That is its glory! When a soldier is a prisoner of war it is his duty to escape—and take as many with him as he can.” He went on to explain, “The moneylenders, the knownothings, the authoritarians have us all in prison; if we value the freedom of the mind and soul, if we’re partisans of liberty, then it’s our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as possible."

Stephen R. Lawhead

[writingbuckets]

The Hot Take: Part 4

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 2.9k

a/n: sorry i haven't posted in a while, been super busy with finals coming up and thanksgiving break <3

**********

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the bustling city streets. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, your steps quick but unhurried as you made your way to the familiar café. It had become something of a ritual—a brief reprieve from the chaos of your growing platform. Since your last podcast episode, the buzz surrounding “Y/N and Paige” had reached a fever pitch. Fans dissected every word, tone, and pause between you and Paige during her guest appearance, spinning narratives from mere banter. Some took it lightly, treating it like an amusing rivalry, while others speculated wildly about an unspoken connection.

You tried to ignore the noise, but it was impossible to escape the notifications flooding your phone. Clips of the episode went viral, with captions ranging from “This is your sign to ship Y/N and Paige” to “When will Y/N admit she’s obsessed with her?” What started as harmless sports commentary had snowballed into something much bigger—and much messier.

The café door jingled as you stepped in, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You inhaled deeply, savoring the moment of normalcy, before slipping into line. The barista gave you a knowing smile; you were a regular here, and they didn’t need to ask for your order anymore.

As you waited, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, a familiar voice broke through the din.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite podcaster.”

You turned, startled, and there she was—Paige Bueckers, standing just a few feet away, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. She looked impossibly casual, yet every movement radiated confidence. Her hair was pulled back, and the slightest smirk tugged at her lips, giving her an air of effortless charm.

“Bueckers,” you said, keeping your tone steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be practicing or something?”

“Recovery day,” she replied with a shrug. “Coach’s orders. But what about you? Hiding out from your adoring fanbase?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Something like that.”

There was a pause, one that felt weighted despite its brevity. Paige glanced toward the counter, then back at you, her expression softening. “Tell you what,” she said, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make it feel like a private conversation. “This place is nice, but I know a spot around the corner that makes the best sandwiches in the city. Let me take you there. You look like you could use a break from all the chaos.”

You hesitated. Lunch with Paige? It wasn’t the first time you’d crossed paths, but there was something about this invitation that felt… different.

“Alright,” you said finally, unable to resist the hint of vulnerability in her tone. “Lead the way, Bueckers.”

As you stepped outside, walking side by side, you felt a strange sense of ease settling between you. It was surprising how natural it felt, how the tension that had been building for weeks seemed to melt away with each step.

The sandwich shop Paige led you to was small and tucked away, the kind of place you’d never notice unless someone pointed it out. Inside, it smelled like fresh bread and roasted vegetables, the warm, savory aroma instantly calming your nerves.

Paige held the door open for you, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder as you stepped inside. You told yourself it was nothing, just a polite gesture, but your heart betrayed you, quickening its pace.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you teased as you looked around. “This place is a hidden gem.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Paige replied, her grin widening. “Wait until you try the turkey pesto. Life-changing.”

The two of you ordered and found a small table near the window. The conversation started light—sports, favorite foods, the absurdity of social media trends—but quickly delved deeper. Paige was easy to talk to, her quick wit and relaxed demeanor making you forget, if only for a moment, the chaos waiting for you outside.

“So,” she said between bites, her tone casual but her gaze steady. “How’s life in the spotlight treating you?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It’s… a lot. I didn’t sign up for this whole ‘public figure’ thing. I just wanted to talk about sports, you know? But now, it’s like every little thing I say gets blown out of proportion.”

Paige nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. People love to read into things, make it bigger than it is. But you handle it well—you’re honest, and people respect that. It’s why your podcast works.”

“Honesty doesn’t stop them from turning me into a meme,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.

Paige chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Memes aren’t so bad. Means you’ve made it.” She paused, her expression softening. “But seriously, if it ever gets to be too much… just say the word. I’ll set the record straight.”

Her words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. There was something about the way she said it—earnest, almost protective—that made your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “But I think I’ll survive. Par for the course, right?”

She smiled, a quiet understanding passing between you. For a moment, the world outside the café—the trending hashtags, the speculative headlines, the invasive questions—faded into the background. It was just the two of you, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation from other diners filling the comfortable silence.

“So,” Paige said, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. Her expression was playful, but her tone carried a softness that made your chest tighten. “What’s your go-to escape plan when the world feels a little too loud?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, caught off guard by the intimacy of the question. “Wow, we’re skipping small talk, huh?” you teased, though there was no bite to your tone.

She shrugged, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Small talk feels… boring. And besides, I feel like you’re not exactly the type to waste time talking about the weather.”

You tilted your head, considering her for a moment. “Fair enough. My escape plan?” You glanced out the window, thinking. “I usually just… disappear for a while. Shut off my phone, pick a random spot where no one knows me, and let myself breathe.”

“Alone?” Paige asked, her gaze steady, as if she were trying to piece together something about you.

“Most of the time,” you admitted, fidgeting slightly with your fork. “It’s easier that way. No one to ask questions or expect you to explain why you need a break. It’s just… quiet.”

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. Quiet can be hard to find, though.”

“Especially for someone like you,” you countered, lifting an eyebrow. “How do you handle it? The constant attention, the noise?”

Paige leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. “It’s a balancing act, honestly. Some days it feels like I’m thriving, and other days…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Other days, I just want to crawl under a rock.”

The honesty in her voice surprised you, and you found yourself leaning in, drawn to the vulnerability she was showing. “So, what’s your escape plan?” you asked softly.

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “When I was a kid, it was basketball. I could lose myself in it for hours. But now…” She shrugged, her smile turning wistful. “Now it’s not that simple. Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s a long drive with no destination. And sometimes,” she said, her gaze locking with yours, “it’s just finding someone who gets it and talking to them.”

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the weight of her words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Does that work?”

“Sometimes,” she said simply, her voice quieter now.

The air between you felt charged, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was as though you were both carefully peeling back layers, exposing just enough of yourselves to keep the conversation honest without feeling too vulnerable.

Paige broke the silence first, her grin returning, though it was softer now. “Okay, your turn. What’s your go-to for cheering yourself up when life gets ridiculous?”

You let out a small laugh, grateful for the shift in tone. “Honestly? Binge-watching terrible reality TV. The trashier, the better. There’s something oddly comforting about watching other people’s drama when yours feels overwhelming.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Let me guess—Love Island?”

“Close,” you said, smirking. “The Bachelor franchise. It’s my guilty pleasure.”

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Wait, are you serious? You’re out here roasting me on a podcast, and yet you willingly watch people argue over roses?”

“Hey!” you protested, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It’s fascinating. And besides, it’s nice to watch other people’s lives spiral for a change.”

“Fair point,” Paige conceded, laughing again. “I’ll admit, I’ve seen a couple episodes. Pure chaos.”

“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “Pure, unfiltered chaos. It’s the best kind of escape.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer, her smile softening. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “What, because I like bad TV?”

“No,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Because you’re not what I expected.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss for words. For once, Paige had managed to throw you off balance, and the realization brought a small, knowing smile to her face.

“Ready to go?” she asked after a moment, her voice casual again as she reached for the check.

You nodded, still processing the shift in the conversation. As the two of you stood to leave, you couldn’t help but glance at her, wondering what, exactly, she had expected—and why you suddenly cared so much.

**********

By the time you returned home, you felt lighter than you had in days. Paige had a way of making things feel simple, even when they weren’t, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax.

That peace lasted all of two hours.

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with notifications. At first, you ignored it, too tired to deal with whatever fresh drama the internet had conjured. But when the buzzing didn’t stop, curiosity got the better of you.

Opening your social media app, you were greeted by a flood of posts—tweets, Instagram stories, TikTok videos—all revolving around the same thing: a photo of you and Paige at lunch, laughing like you didn’t have a care in the world.

The photo, clearly taken without your knowledge, was candid and undeniably intimate. The way Paige was leaning toward you, her eyes crinkled with laughter, and the way your hand rested on the edge of the table, as if caught mid-gesture—it looked like something straight out of a rom-com.

The captions ranged from playful to outright chaotic:

“Y/N and Paige Bueckers spotted on a secret date? The internet needs answers!”

“Y/N called Paige overrated, and now they’re laughing over sandwiches? We love a plot twist!”

“Enemies to lovers arc confirmed?”

Scrolling through the comments, you saw everything from flame emojis to users jokingly begging for an invite to the wedding. Some fans even made memes comparing the photo to stills from romantic comedies, complete with over-the-top taglines like “From Courtside Critique to Courtside Cuties.”

You tossed your phone onto the couch, groaning. The sheer intensity of the internet's reaction was overwhelming. What was supposed to be a casual lunch now felt like the centerpiece of a media frenzy. Your podcast was supposed to be about sports, not… this.

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone, and for a second, you wondered if it could somehow be Paige. But when you opened the door, it was your co-host, coffee in hand and an all-too-knowing grin on her face.

“Thought you might need a caffeine boost,” she said, holding out the cup before stepping inside. “Also, I wanted a front-row seat to your existential crisis.”

You groaned again, collapsing onto the couch. “It’s a circus out there.”

She plopped down beside you, pulling out her phone. “Oh, I know. You’re all over my feed. And, can I just say, that picture? Chef’s kiss. The lighting, the smiles—it’s perfect. Whoever took it deserves an award.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, burying your face in a pillow.

“I mean, come on,” she teased. “You have to admit, it’s kinda cute. The queen of hot takes and the queen of basketball, sharing a meal? It’s like the internet’s dream pairing.”

You peeked out from behind the pillow. “It’s not cute. It’s invasive. I didn’t sign up for this.”

She tilted her head, her tone softening. “No, but you kinda did when you started calling Paige out on the pod. You built this dynamic, whether you meant to or not. And now people are invested.”

You sighed, knowing she was right. “It’s just… my podcast was supposed to be my space, you know? I didn’t think it would spiral into this.”

Before your co-host could respond, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text—from Paige.

Paige: “So… about that photo. Sorry if it’s causing chaos.”Paige: “Also, we’re trending #2 right now. Just ahead of some celebrity breakup, so I guess congrats to us?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. Paige had a knack for disarming you with humor, even when you were spiraling.

You: “Yeah, congrats to us. We’re practically internet royalty now.”Paige: “Want me to make a statement? I can clear the air if this is too much.”

You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. The offer was tempting. Paige’s popularity could easily shift the narrative if she addressed the rumors. But a part of you hesitated. Would that make things better or worse?

Your co-host, who had been reading over your shoulder, nudged you. “You should let her say something. It’ll take some heat off you.”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll handle it. Comes with the territory, right?”

Still, you typed back, trying to keep it light: You: “Nah, it’s fine. Let them talk. I’m used to it.”

Paige’s reply came almost immediately: Paige: “Alright, but if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime… don’t let it stress you out too much. You’re good at this.”

You smiled faintly at the screen, her words oddly reassuring.

By the time evening rolled around, the noise online hadn’t died down, but you were determined to push through it. You set up your recording equipment, deciding to address the situation live for your next episode. If nothing else, it would give you a chance to reclaim some control over the narrative.

Your co-host leaned against the desk, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “So, what’s the plan? Are we diving headfirst into the Paige drama, or are you gonna keep it professional?”

You adjusted the mic, smirking. “Why not both?”

When the livestream started, you dove into your usual banter, easing your audience into the episode. But it didn’t take long before you hit the inevitable topic.

“So, let’s address the elephant in the room,” you said, leaning closer to the mic. “Yes, I had lunch with Paige Bueckers. Yes, someone took a picture. And yes, the internet is apparently losing its collective mind over it.”

Your co-host snorted. “Losing their minds is an understatement.”

You continued, your tone carefully measured. “Look, I get it. Paige and I have this… weird dynamic that people seem to find entertaining. But let’s not get carried away. It was just lunch.”

You paused, glancing at your co-host, who was giving you a look that said really?

“Okay, fine,” you added with a smirk. “It was good lunch. Paige has decent taste in food. I’ll give her that.”

The rest of the episode was a mix of humor and genuine reflection. You acknowledged the frenzy without feeding into it, carefully steering the conversation back to your comfort zone: sports.

When the episode ended, the reactions were immediate, and once again, your mentions lit up. But this time, amidst the chaos, there was a surprising amount of support. Fans praised you for addressing the situation head-on, while others couldn’t resist shipping you and Paige even harder.

And then, just as you were about to log off for the night, another message from Paige popped up:

Paige: “Just listened to the episode. Solid take. But next time, give me a heads-up before you roast my food recommendations on-air.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you typed back: You: “Noted. But no promises.”

Paige: “Fair. By the way, I’m free this weekend if you want to give me a chance to redeem myself. Lunch, round two?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you played it cool: You: “We’ll see, Bueckers. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Her reply was instant: Paige: “I never do. But I’m annoyingly persistent, so good luck with that.”

You set your phone down, a small smile tugging at your lips. The noise might not die down anytime soon, but for now, it felt… manageable.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the attention so much anymore.

[ultravioletrayz]

omg omg i have an ideeaaa

imagine Miguel and reader just having a lazy day together (its a Saturday) and they have a cute little cuddle/ convo moment, they decide to watch cringe movies in bed and reader orders idk i think its one of those big combo wing meals and as she’s uber eats ordering miguel gets handsy with her and it eventually leads up to some smexy time until the uber driver arrives with their food 🍗🍗

dude this made me hungry (not for food)

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, 69ing, oral (f + m receiving), little bit of a handjob and fingering

Summary: while waiting for your uber eats to arrive, miguel becomes hungry for something different

A/N: i'm in a bit of a slump rn (in my writing and in general) so here's a filler fic to hopefully spark my motivation to finish kinktober

Word Count: 1.4k

The afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the bedroom. You and Miguel lay tangled in the sheets, lethargy making it so that neither of you could even fathom leaving the comfort of bed, the remnants of last night's passion still lingering in the air. The bed is a mess of rumpled blankets and pillows, a testament to the lazy, indulgent day you both had planned, wanting nothing more than to bask in the warmth of each other's embrace and enjoy a well-deserved break.

Miguel's arm is draped over your soft middle, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your supple skin, caressing you as his sharp red eyes follow the shitty slapstick comedy on the TV beside the bed. You giggle as you watch the ridiculous antics on the screen, feeling a certain warmth spread through your chest at the sound of Miguel's soft laughter. The comforting rhythm of his breathing against your skin lulls you into a sense of peace, and you can't help but feel grateful for this moment, however mundane it may seem.

"I'm kinda hungry." You murmur, glancing up at Miguel to gauge his reaction. He merely chuckles and rolls his eyes in the most endearing way possible, giving your side a teasing squeeze.

"You're always hungry." Miguel shrugs, the sarcasm dripping in his voice, making you scoff and shove him playfully. Although even if you meant him harm, it's not as if you'd do much damage. You shoot him a dirty look as you lean over him to grab your phone, opening Uber Eats before Miguel can continue to heartily laugh at your adorable antics.

You scroll indecisively through the app for a few moments, brows furrowed in consideration, taking your choice in lunch very seriously. Miguel smiles dopily, finding your meticulous approach to the task adorable in the most lovesick way.

"Doesn't that place down the block do a 2 for 1 deal on Saturdays?" Miguel pipes up, and you immediately beam at the notion, quickly going to the website of the pizza place and putting in both of your go-to orders.

"You're so smart, baby." You coo teasingly, although you are grateful for his input at the end of the day. No way would you let him know that, though. It's all part of the banter.

Miguel just huffs and holds onto your waist when you lean over him once again to return your phone to the nightstand after ordering, your body reaching over his. Miguel's eyes dart to your tits spilling out of your top as it hangs low off your shoulders due to the action, and he licks his lips at the sight of them; so plush and plump and desperate to be massaged and kneaded until his hands leave a greedy dent in the ample flesh.

The second you flop back down onto the mattress, Miguel's hands are all over you. They dance along your throat, squeeze your breasts, ghost over your waist, grope your ass, part your thighs, cup your pussy, brush against your stomach, all while his eager lips nip at the lobe of your ear. It's incredible how quickly that switch inside of him can flip, that switch that triggers such carnal, filthy desire to taste you, his weeping cock chubbing up more and more with each soft giggle and moan that leaves your lips.

"I thought... thought you wanted pizza?" You breathe out, glazed-over eyes taking in the way Miguel's handsome face has morphed into a pouty, needy depiction of how desperate he is, thick brows knitted together as he feels your body melt into his touch, teeth digging into his bottom lip to hold back a groan at how sexy you look with your sleep shirt all bunched up and that teasing little smile on your face.

"Primero quiero disfrutar de un buen aperitivo." Miguel chuckles raspily, suddenly hurling your body atop his shoulders, making you squeal and perch your hands upon Miguel's powerful abs to stay steady, despite the iron grip he has on the meat of your thighs that straddle him. Impatiently, Miguel drags you back so that you succulent, syrupy pussy hovers above his eager mouth beneath your shirt, making your hands slide up his abdomen. That sensation of your fingers stroking his taught musculature is what pushes Miguel to the point of pure, insatiable need.

With firm, beckoning precision, Miguel's tongue flicks out to plunge between your sopping folds, lapping up the sweetness already decorating the insides of your thighs. He groans and takes deep breathes, drowning himself in your essence, large hands tilting your hips back to plop your pretty cunt right on his salivating mouth. You can't help but mewl and buck on Miguel's handsome face, his tongue rolling over your little clit the moment his plump lips suck the throbbing bud into his warm mouth, while his nose bumps against your dripping hole.

Like a depraved dog, Miguel nods and shakes his head vigorously, rubbing his wet tongue all over the heavenly plains of your pussy, his sharp red eyes rolling back in his head as your honeyed taste coats his tongue and overwhelms his senses hypnotically.

It's obvious how ravenous Miguel is, but your own hunger creeps up on you as your focus teeters between Miguel's mouth, and his weeping, swollen cockhead peeking out from the thin sheet covering his lower half. doing the best to keep your clit snugly presses against the tip of Miguel's tongue, you grab at Miguel's fat, hefty length, bobbing down to lap at his flared, girthy tip.

"Joder, cariño." Miguel groans, frustrated that you've more or less lifted yourself off of his face, but finding your kitten licks to his slit unbearably divine, unable to pull you away in order to continue feasting on your hot sex.

Your tongue teasingly scoops up the drop of precum that glistens at the tip of Miguel's dick before taking him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as your lips glide up and down his length in a slow, sensual rhythm. As you take him deeper into your mouth, Miguel's hips buck up off the mattress, his fingers digging into your thighs in an attempt to hold himself back. His moans grow louder and more desperate as you expertly suck and stroke his cock, relishing in the way he fills your mouth.

The weight of Miguel's dick on your tongue, the pulsing of his veins, that potent, musky taste of pre on your tongue; it's all like a drug to you. So much so, that you moan around Miguel's cock, wiggling your hips above his lips in search of relief.

Miguel, quickly thrown from one horny trance to another, immediately raises his head to kiss your puffy clit messily, releasing one of your legs to scissor your cunt open with two thick fingers, plunging them deep inside of you as his head falls back against the pillows with a moan. All disappointment regarding being unable to properly devour your cunt in this position are outshone by the sight of your tight, gummy walls swallowing Miguel's digits and dripping around them, making Miguel thrust his cock up further into the cushy warmth of your mouth.

You moan around his cock, your tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge of his tip. Miguel's breath hitches, his fingers curling inside of you as he nears his climax. As the rough pads of Miguel's digits press against your gooey sweet spot, your eyes squeeze shut and you pull off of his cock, panting and moaning as you pump his length rashly, giving into the pleasure and your fast-approaching high and sitting further back.

Miguel immediately takes over once again, his strong, skillful fingers leaving your pussy to instead push down on your ass, guiding your body to rock against his face. Miguel's tongue lashes out again to trace the folds of your cunt before thrusting deep inside, licking and teasing the walls of your soaking wet core with the roughness of his flat, velvety tongue.

"Miguel! Mig, I-" You cry out, cut off by the obnoxious ding that chimes from your phone and the simultaneous ring of the doorbell, making Miguel's movements falter as he pulls away from your cunt with a dejected sigh leaving his lips, glistening with your slick.

Your actual lunch is here.

absolutely hate this. but shady's back, bitch!

[moonstruckme]

Omg 8k! I’m so happy for you love! May I request hot cocoa for poly wolfstar with the prompt “new years party” or “baking together”? (whichever one you choose!)

Thank you lovely!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“Well, what are we supposed to give them? Crackers?” 

“I don’t see what would be so wrong with crackers,” says Remus, sounding already weary and increasingly vexed. 

“Only crackers, though?” Sirius is in a restless mood, his excitement for tonight’s party mounting and the volume of his voice along with it. “I just don’t see how it can be possible that there aren’t any grapes left anywhere in town. Was there a grape plague I didn’t know about?” 

“They were sold out. I don’t know what to tell you. Crackers will be just as good.” 

“That’s a completely different food group, darling!” 

“Sirius,” you call, hoping to spare Remus from further irritation (and thus spare Sirius from the consequences), “can you come tell me if this looks alright?” 

You’ve strung lights all across the ceiling of the sitting room, strands of blue and white overlapping and casting the whole space in their glow. Sirius’ eyes seem to glimmer as he comes in, admiring your handiwork. He’s in his outfit for the party already, though you’re both waiting until later to do your makeup together. You’ve got plenty of time; it’s only just getting dark outside, and no one is expected to arrive until at least eight. 

“This looks amazing, sweetheart,” he says, audibly relaxing. “It’s perfect; you’ve done beautifully.” 

“You don’t think it’s too dim in here?” you joke. 

Sirius grins as he walks over. You’re a couple of feet taller than him on your step stool, but he doesn’t seem to mind, touching his lips to your navel while his hands hold the backs of your thighs. You predict him and set your hands on his shoulders, sucking in a breath when he pulls you away from the step, lowering you down. 

“How’d you manage it?” he asks, looking back up at the lights while his hand runs absently up and down the dip of your spine. A few of the white strands wink in and out, twinkling above you like stars. “I can’t even see any of the hooks.” 

“They’re in there,” you tell him. It had taken you a while to figure out how to hide them well, but the abundance of lights ended up covering for you in the end. You take a piece of Sirius’ hair between your fingers, admiring the blue sheen on it. “Baby?” 

“Hm?” 

You press a kiss to his lips, gentle and loving. “Keep in mind that you’re the one who forgot we’d need food until the last minute,” you tell him sweetly. 

Sirius pouts. “Why do I have to remember everything?” 

“Because you’re the only one of us who wanted to have a party.”

“You said,” Remus recounts as he comes in, still sounding vexed but fond around the eyes, “and I quote, I’ll take care of everything.” 

“Doesn’t bloody sound like me,” Sirius mutters. His hand is still moving affectionately over your back, though. 

“Dove.” Remus graces you with a smile, ignoring your sulky boyfriend. “The lights look lovely.” 

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder before pulling yourself from his arms. You take Remus’ hands and look up at him with your sweetest, most imploring eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor, please?” 

Remus narrows his eyes at you like he knows what you’re about, but his lips twitch as he holds your fingers. “Hm?” 

“You know that trifle you make for Easter?” You wait for him to nod. “If I went to the store and got the stuff, do you think you might be able to make it again tonight?” 

You look to Sirius. “That’d be good, right? It might go nicely with the champagne.” 

Sirius grins at you. “Brilliant girl. I’m remembering now why we keep you around.” 

You turn back towards Remus. You can feel the power of Sirius’ pleading look adding to yours from behind you. After a long moment, your boyfriend capitulates with a sigh and a kiss to your head. 

“Alright. I’ll make you a list.” 

“Thank you, my love,” Sirius says, saccharine sweet. 

“This party is more trouble than it’s worth.” Remus turns, too slowly to conceal his smile. “If anyone tries to make me sing karaoke, I’ll shut the whole thing down before midnight.” 

Sirius’ expression looks crushed. “But—” 

“Shh.” You pat his shoulder, watching Remus go. “James’ll harass him once he gets here. Pick your battles.” 

[saladoffruitcolored]

Yandere platonic omega father x neglected child reader PT 8

You were in the living room enjoying one of your few moments of rest, since your father married Sarah it's still weird not to call her Dr. Sarah your whole life has changed drastically

During the wedding planning your father warned you that there would be changes, changes for the better, but honestly nothing prepared you for it, for years your life was a constant monotony suddenly everything changed and you were uprooted from everything you ever knew

The first change was the house, the house you always knew was gone, Sarah sold it for the lowest bid possible and donated the money to some needy orphanage saying

"the past belongs in the past, I don't want any old memories to work on our bright future as a family, do you understand that right dear? Sometimes the best thing to do is to TOTALLY get rid of the past and everything that reminds you of it, so you can focus TOTALLY on the future”

She said these words with such a bright smile that you didn’t have the courage to disagree despite the sadness you felt when saying goodbye for the last time to the house that had been your home since you were born

Now you lived in a big and cozy house, the colors were handpicked and Sarah insisted that you should paint the walls by hand to create nice modern decor together, she was right, despite the sadness you felt for being in a house that was completely foreign to you, it would be a lie to say that you didn’t have fun painting the living room walls a cheerful shade of soft yellow, watching Sarah trip and spill blue paint on your father was completely hilarious

The second change was school, your enrollment in the private school was canceled and now you study at home learning directly from the best tutors that money can buy, it was expected that you could learn several subjects, languages ​​and musical instruments at the same time

And you HAD to be able to learn, failure is not an option, you HAD to show that you are not a failure, show that you are sorry, that you are not USELESS, if you could prove this maybe Sarah wouldn't decide to leave like HE was

You weren't stupid, you knew very well that your school payments were late, it was easy to notice the different way the teachers treated you, always singling you out and never letting you participate in parties or extracurricular activities, you weren't blind enough not to notice the dirty looks that the other parents gave your father or the look of pity that the principal had on her face whenever she talked to your father

It was just a matter of feeling sorry until you were asked to leave school, you were already mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassment that would be all your classmates whispering about you they already were

Your prediction was right, you really did leave school but not the just as you imagined, instead of leaving with your head down you walked out next to Sarah while she was being pampered by the principal, the faculty that had previously ignored you at the very least were now showering Sarah with praise, each one trying their best to cement their place as a helpful educator in the memory of your new stepmother

Your whole life has changed so quickly that you feel like the world has turned upside down

It was already night and you were home alone, your tutors had already left a few hours ago leaving you with a series of homework assignments that needed to be done perfectly and turned in as soon as possible

While you were writing your last essay you heard a noise, loud laughter and shouted whispers, they both seemed happy

Ah it seems your father and stepmother have arrived

You want to feel happy that the two of you get along so well, you really want to feel happy that your father has moved on but deep down, inside your already hurt heart, you you feel the cold feeling of fear whispering insecurities in your ear, what if Sarah gets pregnant? Will you be forgotten and left aside again? Will the only person you love leave you and start loving this new baby more than he loves you? It would make sense, why would he love you, the fruit of a failed marriage, when he can love a new baby from a new love?

You force yourself to silence these insecurities by forcing yourself to focus on the lesson in front of you, it's a lesson taught by a college business professor, Sarah personally chose him to teach you

You hear them before you see them, it's impossible not to, they both look euphoric as they enter your new room, your father looks happy happier than you've seen him in years and Sarah is smiling and smiling

"Today we had an indescribable victory in court", your father's words were breathless, he was euphoric and happy, you could see the happiness in his eyes, he stumbled in the air the same way a sailor used to being at sea for a long time would stumble when stepping on dry land again after months

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders

Sarah on the other hand seemed more in control, the only difference between her normal appearance and the current one is that her hair was literally messy and she was blushing happy on the cheeks

She is so beautiful and smart, if she got pregnant the baby would be infinitely more beautiful than you, you would be overshadowed in beauty and intelligence, if you don't stand out in one of the two what would be your use in the family?

“We were thinking of celebrating, what do you think of a family outing? Maybe a picnic? A stay at a hotel on the beach? Oh we can take a trip to France, I used to go there with my parents all the time, I have wonderful memories, I’ll show you all my favorite places” as she listed everything the three of you would do as a family and all the girl-only activities the two of you could do you felt a little numb

Ironically when you were just a little puppy, before the divorce, your omega father promised to take you on a trip to France, he of course never kept his promise, at least not to you because the last time you looked at his social media, before blocking and permanently deleting you, he took a trip with his daughters to the city of lights

For years you wanted to visit Paris and it seemed like now you would be able to, ironically your omega father was partly responsible for giving you that experience

“By the way about your clothes”, Sarah’s nose twitched in slight disgust

Your clothes? Sarah doesn’t like them? You've already gotten her disapproval... why are you so useless

“How about we give them all to charity? Since we're going to Paris we might as well take the opportunity to buy you dozens of new clothes, you don't have to wear these anymore”

“Sure, I'd love to”, your voice cracked a little, maybe your father and Sarah thought it was due to excitement but in reality it was because of embarrassment, was there something wrong with your clothes? Did she think you were badly dressed? Did everyone think that?

You thought you were well dressed, you made money yourself by selling schoolwork to your classmates, you saved up to buy them and did your best to sew them when they eventually ripped

“WONDERFUL!! I knew you would like the idea, I can't wait, we're going to have a GREAT time together, we can even buy clothes together”, Sarah happily left your room after wishing you a good night, her loud and cheerful voice could be heard as she talked about how this would be the best trip ever and how she needed to start planning the trip right now

Your father finally approached you and hugged you

“Good night dear, remember these are changes for the better, changes for the better”, the hug comforted you a little, but not enough, after he left the room you were alone

Looking in the mirror you started to feel very

self-conscious“I have to do it, I can't ruin daddy's happiness... I'm going to do it”, you needed to change, it was necessary to change, that's okay, even if it hurt to know that your appearance didn't seem to be enough

These are changes for the better, if to evolve it's necessary to change everything about yourself then everything Well, everything will be fine

You repeated these words to yourself like a will throughout the night, unfortunately your attempt to convince yourself of this did not take away the pain in your heart

[quillcraftconquer]

Simon, who never wanted a dog. He didn't mind dogs, always stopping to give them a quick pat on the side, and he didn't mind his friends' dogs coercing him to toss a ball for a couple of hours. He just never envisioned himself owning a dog. He spent too much time away from home, and god forbid if anything happened to him, who would even take his dog? 

Still, despite all of his unanswered questions, when he met the tan, leggy stray on a mission that followed him around like he already owned it, he couldn't help but feed it scraps from his dinner, let it sit too close, talk to it whenever everyone else went to bed. 

It wasn't a cute dog. Its body was nicked with tiny scars from its time spent on the streets, and Simon was well aware of the bugs running through its scruffy fur. Its legs were far too tall for its body, accompanied by a small, pointed head with ears too big that stood up when something caught its eye, or drooped comically low when he was relaxed. 

Price complained relentlessly about the “damn dog” that followed Simon to every dinner, whining and scratching at the door when they went to bed, always under their feet while he was trying to walk around the base. It wasn’t until he walked into the showers, making eye contact with Simon and Gaz knelt on the floor, the damn dog enjoying the last remnants of hot water and the empty box of flea medicine tilted against the wall that he knew it was a losing battle, the dog was going to stick around. 

Simon, who didn't want a dog, but spent more money than he had on anything else to bring it home, buy it a nice bed, and a thick leather collar. 

It wasn’t until he stood in the vet's office, watching you run the metal tag through the engraving machine with his information on it that he realized the dog was his. Simon told himself he came here because you were nice to his dog, not commenting on his unique looks or bad behaviors, and how your eyes didn't linger on the dog's scars (or his, foregoing the masks when he did stop in.)

You, of course, didn't mind Simon’s gruff exterior, the way he mumbled ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to your questions, but talked extensively when it came to his dog.You laughed at the way Simon’s nose crinkled when you discussed neutering, or different training methods. You said nothing when Simon would always answer “Not my dog, just a stray.”, but always paid for the best food, treats, and care, almost as if he was convincing himself the dog wasnt going to stick around (because what did in Simon’s life?)

You especially didn't mind when Simon brought up boarding, stating he had to leave for a few weeks. You jumped at the chance, determined to show him that his dog could learn just a few house manners. You let him drop the dog off at your home, gave him access to the cameras, let him survey the yard. 

And if you had known, you wouldn't have minded the late nights Simon was halfway across the world, laying on some shitty bed with security cameras pulled up, watching the dog- his dog- take its signature 3 circles before plopping down on the outdoor couch next to you. 

It was for the dog, he told himself. It definitely didn't have to do with the too tight, too short christmas pajamas you wore in, yes, June, (he had to check the calendar, feeling like he had somehow missed 6 months of the year.) It didn't have to do with the way your fingers lazily dragged over the dog's fur, or the way you pinched the bridge of your nose when the dog tore up another cushion Simon would replace. 

Simon’s thumb punched the side of the phone, the screen darkening as he laid it against his chest, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling.

It was just about the dog.

[beckyninja]

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to. 

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved. 

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought. 

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”. 

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity. 

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist. 

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body. 

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. “We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered. 

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it’s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.” 

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern. 

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection. 

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….” 

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.” 

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin. 

“And, on my back, please?” 

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.” 

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark. 

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?” 

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you. 

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply. 

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time. 

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge. 

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain. 

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered. 

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him. 

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering. 

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain. 

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?” 

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

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