#i want to do sm more maybe expect another of this

[livelaughlovesubs]

HII NINI can i ask for ‘forcing them to crawl on their hands and knees’ and ‘grinding their face into their own mess(with a foot pressed behind them if you may)’ with dazai pleasee i just know he’s pathetic enough to come untouched from that thank youu

Dom!reader x sub!dazai - reader is gn

Warning: pet play!!, teasing, dirty talk, use of pet names, begging, (pre)cum eating, masochistic dazai, stepping

That reminds me when I decided to write sum’ angst for the first time, it was about dazai with abandonment issues, and people just WOULDNT STOP ASKING ME TO WRITE MORE CUZ THEY LOVED PATHETIC DAZAI SM???

He was such a good little pet. At times annoying, but still overwhelmingly fun. To be more specific, he was perfect for you, just the right amount of pathetic, just bratty enough to not overdo it and simply adorable. That smug little smirk he wears when he disobeys you, like right now.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to enter the room. A few moments ago you gave him the order to come in after he finished washing up, which is why you were waiting for his arrival. Once he opened the door, he leaned against the frame and smiled at you, asking almost innocently, “you called?” He was wearing a bathrobe that revealed his chest ever so slightly. “Yes, come closer.” You waved your hand, making yourself comfortable now that he’s here.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’ve been summoned?” He stroked through his hair, some water droplets dripped down from the ends. You stared at him, not expecting him to misbehave already, “I thought you’d know better, puppy.” Dazai chuckled, as if he expected you to say that, and immediately answered, “oh what to do, i don’t know anything~” while he talked, he brought the back of his hand to his forehead, the other one holding his clothes together.

“Can’t you explain it to me again?” The brunette pondered, pouting after he finished his sentence. You caught him sneaking some glances over to you while giving a show. “Hah- have I been too lenient with you? To think you’ve forgotten how to act around me.” Of course you knew this was just another defiant game of his, it was something he did whenever he wanted to mess with you. Normally you’d brush it off, but this time, maybe you should play along.

“Then listen to my orders carefully, puppy.” You leaned back a little, raising your head high up, “firstly, strip.” For a split second, you saw his eyes change from calculated to excited, before he went back to being collected. “Will I be the only one stripping? Oh y/n~ that’s so perverted.” He turned his head to the side, to hide behind his raised shoulder for a bit. Look at him acting like some shy virgin, was he going to ask you to be gentle as well?

Soon after, the white fluffy robe fell down to the floor. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he wasn’t embarrassed yet. “Are you going to stare all day?” The male asked with a light grin, taking a few steps forward before closing the door behind him. “I was being considerate towards you, or do you want to be touched so badly?” He slowly walked over to you, answering in a cheeky tone, “of course, you’ve been starving me of affection lately.”

Suddenly you raised your hand and said, “stop,” and so he did as you wanted, stopping in the middle of the room. You sighed deeply, almost as if disappointed, then sneered, “don’t walk, crawl to me.” A shudder ran down his spine, and he clenched his hand subconsciously. “Crawl? Why should I do that…” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, also signing, as if copying you. You didn’t let this irritate you and simply replied, “don’t you want to earn my praise for a change?”

His ears turned red when he heard that, but instead of retaliating any more, he dropped down to his knees and looked up at you, “please praise me plenty then, master ♡” What’s this? Look at him suddenly being all docile, crawling to you on all fourth and keeping eye contact the whole time. This man, unbelievable, he really had no shame.

As soon as he arrived, he positioned himself in front of you, still on his knees all nicely with his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “Have I been good?” He almost mewled, smiling so brightly with crimson cheeks. Your hand stroked through his hair, watching him nuzzle into your palm. He’s trying so hard, it’s making you almost feel bad.

“You did pretty well, but…” you slid back on the mattress, until you could place your foot on the back of his head. Afterward, you stepped down, forcing him to bow his head. “Look at that mess your little tail made.” An amused chuckled slipped from your lips, and you couldn’t stop grinning at his flustered expression. The blush was even spreading to his shoulders now, how adorable.

Dazai stared at the ground right below him, not like he had any other choices anyway. And it was evident what you meant. His poor hard-on has been leaking the whole time, without him noticing his own arousal. Most of his precum dripped all the way down his shaft and onto his thighs, though some also coated the floor beneath him. Before he could even ask for forgiveness, you pressed down harder, resulting in his face being mere inches away from the poodle of mess he himself made.

“I’m sure a good dog would know what to do?” You’ve been mumbled, noticing how he shuddered at your every word. “Y/n, I-” he couldn’t finish his sentence before you grind his face into the liquid, muttering almost to yourself, “so cute.” He whined at the harsh treatment, feeling his dick twitch in excitement. Without further delay, he stuck his tongue out and licked, making sure to make loud slurping sounds as well just to put on another show for you.

“Hnnnghh~ mhmm… uhm, mmghff…! ♡♥︎♡” More whimpers escaped his throat, and his eyes rolled to the back to his head. His body felt so hot, so electric. Hot tears steamed down his rosy cheeks. He could feel the pressure of your foot against his head, as well as his stomach curling and flutter. Simply hearing your low, slightly hitched breathing made his heart pound. After all, it meant you liked what he was doing, so he was doing a good job, right, right?

“Good boy.” You complimented him, holding your own head with your hands. “You’re doing so good, such a pretty boy.” He continued to lick across the dirtied spot, feeling a rush of heat coursing through his veins. The taste of his own fluids were maddening. It didn’t exactly have a taste, but just the thought of it and the act of doing it in front of you made it special. And exactly because he was so into it, you couldn’t stop the praise from spilling, “You are my good and obedient puppy, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm- mGhUuu~♡♡♥︎..!!!” Suddenly he moaned against the cold ground, and his toes curled. You were a little surprised which is why you moved your foot, wondering if he was actually chocking. Once he raised his head though, you understood what was up with him. Hah. This fucking pervert, cumming all over the floor over nothing.

His eyes were glazed over, hazy while his tongue hung out of his mouth. Tears and drool decorating that pretty face as he whispered meekly, “m’ sorry~♥︎♥︎♡” You stayed quiet for a moment, calming yourself down as little muffled laughs rang in his ears. After that, you teased, “maybe I shouldn’t have praised you so early on. Oh well, it just means you have to clean it again.”

[shewaslikeasunflower]

giegue has to be one of my favorite mother characters, if not then my absolute favorite excluding lucas and claus (very subjective here) !!!

(yap sesh)

Maria raised him with love and kindness, she treated him as if he were her own child and he felt the same. no, maria didn’t give birth to him, but he was raised by that woman and saw her as his mother. i can really imagine maria singing those eight melodies to help him stop crying and also to sleep 🥺 I can’t say much about George because it was mentioned that he was focused on studying all about the aliens without their permission, but perhaps he was studying Giegue too during the two years of abduction? it'd only make sense; aliens are distinctive and unknown to us, of course george would study all stages of an alien's life. My personal headcanon is that gieegs aren't really raised by parental figures but rather are expected to know how to do it themselves, they don’t have that sense of “love” because there isn’t one in their kind, maybe they aren’t even supposed to feel that emotion and just to do the task that they must do. we haven’t got a clue though obviously about giegue’s species so yknow

but then george escapes and apparently from the wiki, leaves maria behind.

Another hc coming up, i REALLY think the aliens must’ve gotten rid of her at some point if she’s passed away. Unless they use her to study her, but being the wife of the person who studied their PSI without permission would cause sm tension and hate i think…either that or it was just old age but it makes sense to me for the aliens to have killed her because it would cause giegue to end up being the embodiment of evil. They would’ve stripped every bit of “love” from giegue and turned him into a weapon. Using HIS psi and power to invade the earth and make sure it’ll never spread — and i think giegue would’ve been more compelling to become the weapon and feel so angry because well..the humans having hold of information of psi caused his mother to die. they choose giegue because he was the one being studied and taken care of by the humans, wasn’t he? He must be the one to do it and betray his mother, his father and their love for his kind.

really interesting character, i wish he changed his mind and didnt invade the earth and stayed with ninten — but the fact that the Apple of Enlightenment prophesized his doom must have made him go crazy and he lost all sense of what he once was in the events of Earthbound. I like to think that Earthbound’s giygas isn’t the same as he was in Mother 1 anymore !! So i refer to him in mother 1 as Giegue, and in earthbound as Giygas. Because that’s not him anymore, that’s not the same alien who felt so much love for his mom. he doesn’t even mention Ninten in EB, but rather Ness and i want to think that's because he was so obsessed and insane about the apple of enlightenment being true and did everything to stop it, going 10 years back earlier JUST to ensure it doesn’t happen, but he goes evil in the process, losing all consciousness of his mind.

The "Almighty Idiot", one might say.

but to me he’s so much more than that 🤧

[kainereee]

a sketch dump of the mafia au with pokemon because if they had pokemon they'd be so much less unhinged fr fr

dedicated to the friends and their interpretations that breathe life into these characters

and all my thanks to @broh3m3 who sat with me as i somehow autopilot doodled a quick razor claw into this mix (laughing emoji)

[moonstruckme]

for thawing out, i see how you've already characterized the reader as kind of the calm, even keeled one of the group and i would LOVE to just see her stand up for herself and absolutely blow up after getting pushed too far by the boys (a little mean of me to want her to go through that but-) but yes i love me a good out of character moment that kind of make the characters be like "oh shit maybe we shouldn't be acting this way-" love you babe 🫶

Hi lovely, idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but thanks sm for requesting! Love you <3

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, implied past abuse, hurt no comfort (for some)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.9k words

When Remus arrives at your apartment the next morning, Sirius is already standing at the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest as he glowers in Remus’ direction, but it’s difficult to find him very intimidating when his nose is pink from the cold. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling awkward. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Sirius replies drily. “What are you doing here?” 

Remus shrugs. Fine. If Sirius wants to be a prick (and what else is new), he can do that too. “I didn’t think you’d come. Have you knocked already?” 

“Of course I knocked,” he all but sneers. “Why would you assume I wasn’t going to be here? I said I would be.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you’d be able to drag yourself out of bed.” 

Sirius looks ready to make a retort, but your door opens. You look surprised to see both boys on your doorstep, your smile tentative. Remus still doesn’t understand how you can do that at such an early hour. 

“Hi,” you say. Then you turn to Sirius, grin widening as you pinch the frozen tip of his nose fondly. “You made it.” 

“Obviously I made it!” The other boy’s voice takes on a wounded tone, and Remus has to tuck a smile into his scarf. Sirius must suspect, because his gaze narrows.

“How did you get this address?” he asks Remus. 

Remus feels his brow crinkle. It’s not as if he’s the one you’re in danger of. 

“He texted me last night, and I gave it to him,” you answer for him. “I sort of assumed you’d oversleep.” 

Sirius makes an indignant scoffing noise, but he appears to have nothing more to say. He seems in especially brutish form today. You’re as unphased by his moods as usual, hooking your arm through his. 

“I’m sorry to get you both up so early, but I suppose two guard dogs are even better than one.” You squeeze Sirius’ bicep affectionately, and the look you send Remus is pure sweetness. “It’s really nice of you both to come.” 

Something warm and fond blooms in Remus’ chest. Sirius mutters some disgruntled sort of assent. 

You grin. “And now, we can all buy our own drinks!” 

“Oh, fuck this then,” Sirius’ irritating pugnacious tone is back, though now it’s at least partly for show. “I didn’t realize that was part of the deal. I want out.” 

You only make an amused pffting sound, pulling him playfully against your side. 

Remus falls back to let the two of you walk alongside each other on the sidewalk. It’s odd and occasionally entertaining to watch you, so entirely familiar and at ease with each other. It’s the sort of relationship Remus hasn’t had in years, and he’s beginning to question whether he ever had a bond quite as close as yours. It’s obvious even from the outside that the pair of you know each other inside and out, and that you love each other just as deeply. But Sirius’ love is another thing entirely; the way he looks at you is almost too painful to witness. 

Remus doesn’t understand why Sirius hasn’t pursued you. He certainly prefers it this way; it makes his job considerably easier with things platonic and professional between the pair of you, but it just doesn’t add up. Sirius strikes him as the sort of cocksure prat who goes for what he wants, every time. He’s certainly arrogant enough to be sure he’ll get it, and admittedly, with his looks and devil-may-care attitude, there aren’t many people Remus can see turning him down. (They definitely should, but they likely wouldn’t.) Perhaps, after knowing him so long and working with him so closely, you’re simply too smart to get entangled with the likes of Sirius Black. 

You do eventually look back to call Remus up to join the two of you. Sirius looks irked at this, and Remus wishes he could say he was more mature, but he goes in large part because of it. You loop your other arm through his and make sure to include him in your conversation the rest of the way to the rink. 

The morning’s practice goes by with much of the same forced camaraderie. You’re friendly and receptive, Sirius is loud and irksome, but overall Remus is pleased with how things are going. You’re improving every day, to a degree Remus can’t help but admire. He can easily see you perfecting this routine by the Olympics in less than a month, which certainly defies his expectations from when he first started coaching you. Sirius is the same as always; he’s not as consistent or as controlled as Remus would like, but he doesn’t seem inclined to change and his form is (though Remus wouldn’t admit it aloud even at knifepoint) truly beautiful to watch. 

By the end, he has only one thing to say. 

“I think we need to up the ante.” 

You look up from where you’re putting on your skate guards, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“You’re going to perfect this routine.” Remus can say that with confidence now. A nice little bonus is the way your face lights with bashful pride when he does. “You’ll get plenty of execution points from that, but if you want to really compete it wouldn’t hurt to add a higher difficulty move.” 

Sirius looks up, his gaze watchful. 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

“A death spiral,” says Remus. “We could fit it in during the lower-level sequence towards the end. You should be ending with more of a crescendo anyway.” 

You’re nodding. “An outside death spiral?” 

“And backwards, if you’re up for it.” 

“No way.” Sirius’ skates are already in his bag. You look over at him, bemused, but he’s looking at Remus. “You can’t fuck with the program this late. It’s only a couple of weeks before we leave.” 

Reluctantly, Remus turns to face him. His eyes are like a brewing storm. “And would you like to medal whilst you’re there?” 

“We don’t need this to medal.” 

“You don’t know what the competition will be like. You need to bring everything you can to the routine.” 

Sirius kisses his teeth. He stands, looking at Remus with barely repressed malice. “A backwards outside death spiral isn’t something you can just toss in at the last minute. We’re only just starting to manage what we have in the routine already! It’s too risky.” 

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes. Sirius isn’t subtle; it’s clear what this is really about. “She’s going to be fine,” he says firmly, refusing to back down when the other boy's eyes narrow. “She’s perfectly capable of deciding for herself whether she wants to do this, and your feelings cannot be the deciding factor here. The death spiral is a staple of pair routines. You have to take some risks if you want to compete at this level.” 

“Oh, do you?” Sirius’ laugh is cold and dead. “Is that what you did? If it’s so fucking easy, why don’t we get out there so you can show us how it’s done?” He juts his chin towards the ice, jaw set and eyes blazing. “You can let us see how great it works out to take risks.” 

Remus doesn’t even feel the ache in his hip as he takes two quick steps towards Sirius, towering over the other boy with his blood pounding in his ears. Sirius is forced to look up, but he turns his chin up defiantly. His face hardens as he takes in a short, quick breath. 

You cram yourself between them. 

It’s like snapping back into his body. Remus stumbles back, his hip screaming at the hurried motion. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron, collapsing backwards onto the bench while you put yourself in front of Sirius like a human shield. Your expression is wrathful. 

“Do not do that,” you growl. You reach behind you, taking Sirius’ forearm in your grasp as though to keep him from moving. “God, why do you both have to be such dickheads to each other? We’re done here.” 

You march straight past Remus, dragging Sirius along on your other side like a dog on a leash. He looks about as shell-shocked as Remus feels. Your outburst knocked him flat on his ass, literally. It’s not that Remus didn’t think you were capable of yelling; he suspected you had fangs, but the venom came as a surprise. 

He winces when the door bangs shut behind you. They probably deserve that. He doesn’t envy Sirius, who’s likely to get a lengthy lecture from you on the walk home, but Remus does realize this could mean him losing his job. Trading petty remarks with Sirius had almost begun to feel like part of his role, but he’d never expected to make you so furious. He doesn’t know what it will mean for him that he has. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

During the entirety of Remus’ long, steamy shower, he cannot stop thinking of the look on Sirius’ face. The way his eyes had almost changed color, going from a murky gray to blue like the hottest part of a flame. He’d looked almost pleading, for half a second after Remus first brought up the death spiral, before his face hardened back into harsh stoniness. He keeps fixating on that look, that second where the dynamic between them seemed on the brink of shifting before it didn’t. But maybe it never could have. Maybe Remus imagined the whole thing; it was only half a second, anyway. 

Regardless, he feels stupid for stooping to Sirius’ level. He’s better than that, he hopes, but in the last few weeks he’s let the other boy bring out the worst in him. He decides that if you don’t fire him, he’s going to try harder to be above it. If Sirius wants to trade insults like a child, Remus can treat him like a child; with patience and a repertoire of aloof platitudes, but he won’t engage with him anymore. 

He’s put on a pair of pajama pants and is moving the waistband to hold a pack of frozen peas to his hip when there’s a knock on his door. He leans back to peer through the window, and there you are, blowing into your hands and shivering on his doorstep. 

Remus groans as he gets up. He was really hoping to have at least one night of relaxation before having to have this conversation. 

You must stop rubbing your hands together when you hear him opening the door. “Hi,” you say. 

“Hi,” Remus replies, amused despite himself. They’re having one of those odd nights where snow falls but doesn’t stick, except to you apparently. Little white flakes are tangled in your hair and dusted across your shoulders. Remus can see some between your eyelashes when you blink. You’re stiff as a board, but there’s no hiding the tiny waves of trembles that shake your frame. 

“I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call first.” Your voice is teetering on the brink of a chitter.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Remus really shouldn’t feel so warm towards you when you’re likely here to fire (or at the very least, berate) him, but you do look terribly cold. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside so fast he hardly has time to make room for you, and the sleeve of your coat brushes against his bare chest, making him shiver. Remus realizes then that he’s not wearing a shirt, but he decides not to care; it is his house (or his rental, at least), and you’re the one who showed up unannounced. He’s entitled to be as underdressed as he likes. 

This small bit of indignance, though founded entirely from a battle within himself, reminds Remus to be miffed with you. 

“If you’re going to ask me to apologize to Sirius,” he says, going to the kitchen to put the kettle on (he may be miffed, but he is still Welsh), “you can save it. I have no intention of getting into a row like that with him again, but I was not the one who was being unreasonable.” 

You rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah, I agree. You shouldn’t apologize to him.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows draw together. “Okay…good. Because I’m not planning on it,” he says, just to be sure you understand. “He was completely out of line.” 

You nod again. “He was.” 

Remus finds his eyes straying to the door while he mulls over whether he’s feeling impolite enough to ask the next logical question. Then what are you doing here?

You take in a breath, letting it whoosh out of you. “I came because I want to apologize.” 

It’s impossible to keep the surprise off his face. “You?” 

“Yeah.” You rock a bit on your feet, and Remus realizes you’re still wearing your coat. Either you don’t plan to stay long, or you’re too anxious to take it off without an invitation. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. It was really harsh—I mean, I was right, but I didn’t need to be cruel about it.” You glance to the side, a bit of bashfulness softening your voice. “I also shouldn’t have called you a dickhead.” 

A little chuckle escapes him. “We were being dickheads.” 

“You were,” you agree, “but I still shouldn’t have said it. I don’t want to be like that. I’m sorry, and I hope you still want to stay with us.” 

You look back at him, your expression intentionally firm but your eyes beseeching, and some part of Remus melts. He and Sirius get into fights all the time—loud ones, with shouting and name calling and absolutely no holds barred—but you snap at them once, and here you are. Having walked here by yourself in the cold because you feel bad about it. 

“Let me get your coat,” he offers.

You take your tea to the couch, where you curl up automatically on the side opposite Remus’, pulling your legs in so he can pass between you and the coffee table. Remus picks his peas back up as he sits carefully, stifling a groan. It’s a bit embarrassing to ice his hip in front of you, but the pain has become too much to ignore. 

You wince as you watch him settle them underneath his waistband. “Is that because of me?” 

He can’t very well tell you the truth when you sound so guilty. “No,” he says. “I have to do this a lot.” That part’s not a lie. 

You nod, still looking sorry. Remus is grateful when you move on quickly. 

“Just so you know,” you say, “Sirius probably won’t apologize to you either.” 

Remus almost snorts. “Yeah, I wasn’t anticipating he would.” 

You smile ruefully. “I know he probably feels bad about saying what he did—he knows he had no right—but he just gets so caught up in anger sometimes. If it helps at all, today was just an especially hard day for him. He’s always…extra on edge around this time of year. You learn not to take the things he says personally.” 

Remus studies you through narrowed eyes. He blows steam off his tea. “Does he do that to you often?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t typically goad him,” you say with no small amount of humor. Or pointedness. 

He lifts a brow. He’s already told you he won’t be apologizing for giving as good as he gets. 

You sigh, your expression going somber. “Listen, I know Sirius can get really—” you shake your head again, blowing out a breath “—really quite hot headed, but you can’t get in his face like that. His life has—well, it’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, but even when he says things like that, you can’t act all threatening just because you’re having a spat, okay?” 

Remus feels his brow wrinkle. “Threatening?” 

Your face softens. “You looked like you were about to hit him,” you say gently. 

Something inside Remus gutters. “I did?” 

You nod, looking almost apologetic. He feels nauseous. 

“I didn’t…” 

“I don’t think you would have,” you clarify. “I’m not saying I thought you were going to hit him, I just know how Sirius works. And from his perspective, I know how it looked. You can’t do that to him.” 

“I don’t want to do that to anyone.” Remus sounds injured even to his own ears, and so he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to shut out the pained pinch of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. “I really had no idea that’s how it looked. I think I got too caught up in being angry about what he said, but it won’t happen again.” 

“I know.” Your voice is gentle. You set a hand on his knee, tentative but there. “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. It’s okay, just…now you know. For next time.” Remus opens his eyes again, and you smile wryly. “You can shout at him all you want. Don’t let him dish it out without making him take it, but just stay away from physical stuff like that, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees hoarsely. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” You give his knee a friendly pat, leaning back against the couch cushions and sipping your tea. 

Again, Remus marvels at you. Sirius fights for you every day, whether you ask him to or not, loud and bold and relentless in his devotion to you. He wonders if Sirius knows that even when he doesn’t ask, in your own way, you go to bat for him too.

[klausysworld]

Can you do a story where reader has been bullied her whole life from Caroline and she’s always been the second choice, since klaus came into town she’s always had a crush on him and he knew about it , when the ball came around and klaus took Caroline instead of yn she was really upset and Caroline could see that and humiliates her infront of everyone including klaus and klaus goes after her and comforts her you can choose what happens after thank you sm!!

I Could Never Compete

Caroline had always made a point of being better than me.

Whether it was turning my friends against me, taking cheer captain from me or stealing Tyler, my boyfriend from me. The worst part wasn't even that she did those things but that she did them just so she could publicly make fun of me for them.

"I mean, what are you even gonna do during the summer? It's not like she have any friends left." She'd make sure to say loud enough for Elena and Bonnie to hear, making them stare right at me. She told Elena that I tried to make-out with Matt whilst they were together and she told Bonnie that I was making fun of her for being abandoned by her mother. Neither were true, at all but I couldn't exactly prove it and Caroline only had to tell the lie to a few other people before everyone was believing it.

"Please, you've let yourself go. That's why you can't be captain anymore, just look at yourself. The whole squad knows it." She'd tell me in front of all the girls on the team and trying out for the team. It made me angry because I knew I was actually better than her in this but she made everyone think I was useless. I had been training years more than her, a hundred times harder. My diet was to make sure I could compete in cheer and dance, ballet specifically which she also had to get into and when we were little she pushed me over so my ankle was hurt and she could do swan lake instead of me.

"You didn't really think that someone could love you? Even like you when I'm in the picture? Tyler's stupid but he's not that thick. He has eyes and he has a dick and he knows what's better for both. I bet he didn't even want to touch you, you ugly pig." She spat. We were at a party and Tyler had tried to apologise to me but she cut in. Everyone went silent and watched as my face went red and my eyes blurred with tears. It was Stefan that lead me away, it was at his house after all. But I think he was the first person to imply that he didn't believe all of the things said about me and he told me that Elena had questioned the rumours to him. I should have been relieved that someone believed me but the effects had already happened and the truth probably wouldn't make my life any easier at that point so I just thanked him and went home.

I don't really know why I thought Klaus would be different, maybe because she already had Tyler and that should've been enough? Of course not.

But I didn't expect it from Klaus. He's over a thousand and surely much more mature than a teenage boy tempted by another girl. It hurt me when Tyler cheated, obviously it did, however I could make sense of that. I couldn't make sense of what Caroline could have said or done to make Klaus switch up so easily.

Especially with how he'd been.

I hadn't really loved Tyler but I think that I had actually fallen for Klaus. It wasn't just the drawings and the priceless gifts, but it was the way he looked at me and the softness he spoke with that he never seemed to use with anyone else. His touch was always just right, even when he was getting rough he was never forceful like Tyler got. He still knew not to grab too harsh or push too hard. There was something natural about being with him which made everything seem so effortless.

I guess I noticed him being a little different when his family was undaggered and awake but that was expected with the amount of stress he was under. Still, he had mentioned me meeting his mother and even told me about the ball.

There was no reason I wouldn't have gone.

I didn't have as much money as Caroline and Elena and Bonnie with their lovely big houses and hundreds of outfits. I wasn't struggling as bad as Matt anymore but I wasn't exactly stable either.

Which meant that getting a dress to be able to go to the ball and feel comfortable was really difficult for me but I made sure I did it so that I wouldn't embarrass him or myself in front of his family. I made sure not to eat the day before and the day of so that there was zero chance of bloating and I spent hours making sure I was ready before paying a taxi to take me.

I think I probably should have known something wasn't quite right when Klaus didn't even offer me a dress. Not in an entitled way but just because it was unusual for him not to. He told me he enjoyed knowing he had provided those nice things for me and that he liked knowing he was the reason for the smile on my face.

Again, the entire situation was so huge for him that I didn't expect things like that.

But I also didn't expect to walk in through those double doors and see his hand cupping her face and her gloved hands in his chest.

I could feel the lump in my throat forming, my heart racing and the humiliation already hitting.

Caroline turned her head, the loose pieces of curled hair swaying beautifully beside her face as she looked right at me, cruel smile on her lips and sadistic glint in her eyes. Klaus was still looking at her, probably admiring how the blue of the dress complimented her hair and eyes.

It was in that moment that everything she had ever called me felt real. I felt ugly, I felt cheap, I felt fat. I wanted my skin to peel off and reveal a completely different person, someone who could actually compete with Caroline's beauty.

I took a step back, ready to retreat home but I bumped into someone with a tray of champagne making the glass smash everywhere. I felt a piece dig into my ankle and it prompted a tear that was already waiting in my eye to finally cascade down my face.

When I glanced back up Klaus was hurrying toward me, his eyes holding that softness as both his hands went to my shoulders. I caught feel my breathe catching in my throat, barely escaping my chest as he tried to say something.

Caroline's hand was on his arm, pulling his hand away from me as she let out an amused scoff. "God. You literally can't get any more pathetic Y/N." She told me, her eyes scanning me over making her raise an unimpressed brow. "Ew." She stated simply. "Could have at least made an effort, no wonder he wants me-"

"Don't listen to a word out of her. Come on, love, we'll go upstairs and-" He tried to cut in but Caroline wasn't having it.

"Don't hush me. You invited me here. You gave me everything I'm wearing and you practically promised to help me take it off later." Caroline spat and I couldn't stop the cry that bubbled from my mouth. It physically hurt.

"Y/N!" I heard him yell but I wasn't there, I was outside, my heels in my hands as I went barefoot whilst running down the concrete. My breathing was fast and I refused to look back but that didn't stop him from appearing in front of me, his arms holding my against his chest as I tried to shove him off. "Please, love, please." He whispered, his tight firm so I couldn't move making me relent and just cry in his hold instead. My legs went and he was knelt on the cold floor, holding my up so the soles of my feet weren't still pressed against the tiny stones and chunks of dirt.

"Why would you bring her and not me?" I sobbed into his chest and his hands gripped me firmly.

"My mother had me invite her...I didn't imply it being anything other than platonic-"

"You gave her a dress and you held her face. You want her!" I yelled at him but he just wouldn't admit it.

"We're going to your house and I'm going to fix this, love." He told me, standing up and adjusting his hold on me before we were inside my house a second or two later.

He put me down and I was heading up stairs immediately but he was pulling me back and pleading me to sit down.

"I want out of this stupid dress, Klaus. I want it off, I want to burn it." I sniffed, my hand messily wiping the tear from my face.

"It's a beautiful dress." He whispered, his hands holding my waist so I couldn't leave. I looked up at him, his eyes as sad as mine as he leaned down to kiss my cheek and the corner of my mouth. "I shouldn't have invited her, I should have told my mother no. I should have sent you a dress and I should have picked you up myself. I'm sorry, I promise you that I'm sorry." He uttered, his hands sliding up to my face.

"I don't care that you didn't spend your stupid money on me." I whimpered and he looked down for a second.

"I know...I know, but I was going to and I didn't. I know it wouldn't have been easy for you to-"

"I handled it just fine. I got a dress and I got there, all you had to do was be there for me and you weren't, you were there with and for her."

"I wasn't. I don't want her, I don't ever even talk to her. I love you, you have to know that." His head was shaking as he spoke and his eyes were flickering between blue and gold.

"I can't compete with Caroline, Klaus, you know that." I whispered and his hand rested on the back of my head, pulling me close so our foreheads were touching.

"There is no competition. There never was and there never will be. You're mine, and I'm yours. We're gonna go upstairs and lay down and we'll stay there until you feel better, okay?" He murmured, pulling me along with him making me stumble at the reminder of the splinters in my skin and the glass by my ankle. "Fuck. Okay, c'mere." He mumbled, picking me back up and taking me up the stairs and putting me down on the bed.

"Laying here isn't going to make anything better, Klaus." I sighed, trying to ignore the pain as he grabbed the tweezers from my drawer and cleaned me up.

"Then we'll go somewhere, we'll go to Europe and I'll take you to France and Greece and Spain- Italy!" He listed, clearly getting more and more stressed as he bit his hand and let the blood drip into a glass of water, his finger swirled it round before he was urging me to drink it, holding my legs in his hands to watch the wounds disappear.

"I don't care about those places, I just cared about you." I sniffled and he frowned, laying down beside me and pulling me onto him.

"You still care about me now. I know you do and some stupid girl isn't ruining that. I don't love often but I love you and you're not going anywhere." He stated, no room for argument as his tone got colder.

His eyes resoftened when he looked back at me and he just wouldn't let go of me until I told him it was okay.

I wondered if it had been any other girl, if I would have felt as bad as I did now. Was there something wrong with me? Or was Caroline just that perfect?

[bueckers]

UNFINISHED BUSINESS ━━━ paige bueckers ( 2 )

synopsis: putting an end to everything, drea thinks she’s totally and completely done with paige bueckers. that is until the blonde is finally honest with her.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc

warnings: angst and smut. they’re so toxic but also like made for each other.. alcohol use, scissoring, fingering, lots of paige’s hands.

notes: another long one so there wasn’t any major cliffhangers, hopefully this makes up for the wait.. :) also a paige & flau’jae feature because i love them sm.

The morning sunlight filters through the hotel curtains, and she’s sitting at the edge of the bed. I can feel the space next to me where she was lying, still warm but empty now. She’s moving around, getting dressed, and I’m fighting the urge to reach out and pull her back into bed. But I know I shouldn’t.

“You don’t have to go yet,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s more of a plea than an offer, and I hate how desperate I sound. I can see her hesitate, her back to me as she fiddles with her shirt. For a second, I think she might stay, but then she turns to face me, and I can see the determination in her eyes. Why was it so difficult for me to just say it?

“Except I do. We never actually talked… if you missed that part,” she says, and I try to ignore the slight raise in her voice.

In attempt to busy myself, I grab my shirt from off the ground and pull it over my head. “The whole point of last night was to avoid that, Drea. We ain’ gotta talk about it.” I respond, and I’m only half joking, but I still wince at how much of a dick I sound.

She’s serious, and instead of agreeing or starting an argument, she ignores it. “Look,” she starts, and I can see her struggling to find the right words, her eyes glued to the bedsheets. Not me. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to say anything, that I get it, she deserved an explanation. But I don’t want to make it easy for her. Not when I know this is probably the last time we’re going to be like this.

“Last night.. it shouldn’t have happened.”

I furrow my eyebrows. "You don’t gotta say that. It’s not like we didn’t both want it,” I huff out.

She looks at me a certain way, and I can tell she hasn’t put much thought into what she’s saying. But she’s saying it anyway. "That’s not what I mean," she says quickly, like she’s trying to fix it. "I’m not saying I didn’t want it. I just… I shouldn’t have let things get so deep between us. How things ended.. it’s my fault.”

Her fault? She shouldn’t have let things get so deep? Theres no way she means these things, right? She stands there, biting her lip, and I know she’s waiting for me to say something. My throat feels tight, and my mind is a mess. I’m caught between wanting to shout at her, to tell her how wrong she is, and just shutting down completely.

This is Drea. The one person who’s always known how to get under my skin, in ways both good and bad. And now, while she’s standing right in front of me, telling me she regrets how deep we got, that basically, she thinks I cut her off because she caught feelings, I can’t help but feel like a fool. I spent so much time convincing myself that she didn’t feel the way I did, that I’d imagined the whole thing. Now it turns out she was in it too. And I don’t know what to do with that.

I wanna tell her to stop, to not say anything more. But I can’t let myself be that vulnerable, not when I’ve spent so long trying to protect whatever pieces of myself I have left. This is, like, the biggest joke of my life, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When I finally do speak, my voice comes out quieter than I expect, almost detached. “So, what now? We just pretend none of this ever mattered?”

Drea’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something flicker in them—regret, maybe, or doubt. It seems like this is the most straightforward conversation we’ve had about the way we actually feel, and everything’s coming to light and an end at the same time. Just as quickly, she pushes it away, her expression hardening, and it makes every dot in my mind connect. “I’m not saying it didn’t matter. It did. That’s why we need to stop.” She’s trying so hard to be the rational one, to be the one who ends this cleanly. But nothing about this is clean.

I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” God, I even sound bitter.

She looks at me like she’s searching for something—maybe a reason to stay, or maybe just confirmation that this is the right choice. But then she sighs, her shoulders sagging with the weight of it all, and I know nothing, at least in this moment, would change her mind about me.

“Please take care of yourself.” She kept me grounded when I couldn’t find my footing, and those words just feel so cruel. It sounded like we’d never be speaking again, and I hated that thought.

I nod, unable to trust my voice, and then she’s gone. And just like that, it’s over. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

A few days pass in a blur, and my time in Phoenix is slowly coming to an end. It’s safe to say the events of the city had only temporarily kept my mind off of everything, and now I’m sitting in a bar with Flau’jae, trying my best not to let the rain cloud over my head poke out. She’s talking, animated as ever, but I’m only half-listening, my mind drifting back to Drea more often than I’d like to admit.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I blink, forcing out a smile. “Sorry,” I apologize, stretching my arms out in a way to reset. “I’m listening now. Promise.”

Flau’jae narrows her eyes at me, clearly not buying it. “Nah, you’re not,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “What’s got you so deep in thought? You’ve been acting like you’re here, but not really here, y’know?”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just tired, I guess. Been a long week.”

She studies me for a moment, her gaze sharp. “Uh-huh. And this long week wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone, would it?”

I bite my lip, trying to stay cool. Flau’jae doesn’t know about Drea and me—no one does, really. We made sure of that. But if anyone’s gonna pick up on something, it’s her. I should’ve known better than to think I could just sit here and pretend everything’s fine.

“Maybe,” I say vaguely, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her curiosity. “I just got a lot on my mind, I’m fine,” I reassure, furrowing my eyebrows as if it was nothing to worry about.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning in like she’s about to uncover some big secret. “Stuff, huh? Girl stuff?”

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “You’re too nosy for your own good, you know that?”

She grins, laughing a little. “Paige! Come on, spill. Who is she?”

I hesitate, and for a second, I consider telling her everything. But that’s a slippery slope, and I’m not ready to go there. So instead, I won’t reveal too much. “It’s complicated,” I sigh.

Flau’jae crosses her arms, fully intrigued. “Complicated how?” She could be a detective.

I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Just... complicated. Things didn’t end the way they were supposed to. And now I’m stuck trying to figure out what to do next.”

She nods slowly, taking that in. “So, you and this girl… y’all were close?”

“Yeah,” I huff out, nodding as I press my lips together. “Real close.”

Flau’jae gives me a knowing look. “Thats who you was texting last night at the game?”

“Maybe,” I drag out, a shit-eating grin gracing my face. Then I slip up. “I was jus’ too scared to say anything to her face.”

Her eyes widen, and she brings a hand up to cusp her lips. It takes me a bit to realize, and as soon as I do, she cuts me off. Damn it. “Thats why you was hugging her a little too long after the final buzzer.”

“Hey! I ain’ even say a name,” I say quickly and louder than intended, trying to backtrack.

She leans forward, eyes wide with amusement. “You didn’t have to! You gave me everything I needed to know. Paige, what the hell? You and Drea, for real? I didn’t know you had game like that.”

I jerk my head back, scrunching my face up at her. There was no doubt that Drea was one of the prettiest faces in the game, and the fact that she can ball too just really adds to it. “I can show you what these rizz hands can do,” I joked momentarily. “It wasn’t even supposed to be a thing, though. We kept it on the low for a reason.”

Flau’jae shakes her head, holding her lips a little tighter now. “You know what Twitter would do with this? You been out here sneaky-linking and didn’t even give me a heads-up?”

Sneaky-linking? Was that really what it was? “Can we stop talking about this?” I say, half-laughing despite myself.

“And y’all met in high school, too. That’s some next-level soulmatism or something.”

I chuckle, licking my lips as I lift up my drink. The clinking of the ice fills the silence, and I’m able to put a close to the conversation. “It’s over now, anyway. Doesn’t matter.” It’s a lie. We’d clearly went over that it did matter.

Flau’jae studies me for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if she can see right through me. But then she lifts her hands up in surrender, a smirk playing on her lips. “Alright, if it’s really over, how about you find someone tonight? You could use it if I’m being honest,” She retorts, referring to the mood I’ve been in the entire night because of my situation.

“Chill!” I laugh, shaking my head as I lean back in my chair myself. “You make it sound so easy.”

She shrugs, and I hesitate, taking a second to let my eyes wander around the bar. A couple of eyes meet mine, lingering longer than what’s considered normal. I’m not sure if they might know who I am, or just think I’m attractive. Or maybe both.

Flau’jae seems to notice too, shooting me a wild and bright smile. “See? you still got it. Just make a good choice.”

The car hums beneath me, the city lights flashing past as I sink into the leather of the backseat, my head leaning against the window. I can still taste the alcohol on my tongue, and my mind is replaying the past few hours like a hazy, disconnected reel. All I can think about is her.

You’d think after a night out I’d at least be able to get the mass of Drea off my mind, but I think it just made everything worse. No matter how hard I try to push her out, physically and emotionally, she’s always there, right on the edge of my thoughts.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, my thumb hovering over her contact. I know I shouldn’t text her. I know it’s a bad idea. But our last conversation on repeat and the emptiness from earlier are making my judgment untrustworthy, and before I can stop myself, I’m typing out a message.

Yo, you up?

I stare at the screen, the words staring back at me. It’s a weak attempt, but I’m past caring. A part of me almost hopes she won’t respond, that she’ll leave me to deal with the consequences of my choices alone. But then I add another text, like I can’t help myself.

Idc if you’re not

It feels like a challenge. Like I’m daring her to ignore me, to stay out of it. But I know that’s not what I want.

I swallow hard and send one last message, my fingers trembling slightly as I type.

You still in Phoenix, right?

The words hang there, waiting for her response. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t tell if it’s from the countless amounts of dirty shirley’s or the anticipation of hearing from her. Or both. I really hope I don’t throw up in this car.

I lean back in the seat in attempt to relax, but I can literally hear my heart beating. I wonder if the driver can, really. I don’t know what I’m hoping for, but I know that if she’s still here, if she answers… I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist whatever comes next.

The minutes stretch out in silence, broken only by the occasional sound of the car’s tires hitting a pothole. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, watching the three little dots appear and disappear. I should put my phone away, maybe even go back to the hotel and sleep this off, but I can’t. I’m too far gone for that.

The Uber turns down another quiet street, and I feel the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. It’s not just about tonight. It’s about all the nights that led up to this, every bad choice that brought me to this moment. The thought of facing it alone is unbearable, and I realize that’s why I texted her. Not because I want her to come over, but because I don’t want to be alone. Or that I do, just with her.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I almost drop it in my rush to check the screen.

Why?

A single word, blunt and to the point. She’s guarded, as usual. But the fact that she responded at all makes me happy enough.

I just… I hesitate, staring at the blinking cursor. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, but I settle on honesty.

Just wanna see you. Is that so bad?

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. My fingers hover over the screen again, and then I add another message.

I don’t wanna stop seeing you fr

It’s more than I planned to say, more vulnerable than I planned to be, but it’s the truth. And I’m too tired of pretending otherwise.

The reply comes quickly this time, and I can almost hear her voice in the words.

Are you drunk texting me right now?

And no, you mean you don’t wanna stop fucking me

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I just stare at the screen, the bright light from my phone casting harsh shadows in the dark car. I can feel the truth in what she’s saying, but it’s only part of it. Yeah, we’ve been physical, and I’m not denying that’s been a big part of this whole thing, but it’s not just that.

No, Drea. It’s more than that. We both know it always was.

You said it three days ago.

I hesitate before hitting send, but I know I have to. I can’t keep hiding behind the bullshit. She deserves better than that even if she won’t appreciate it.

The reply doesn’t come right away, and the silence feels like it’s pressing in on me from all sides. I shift in my seat. This whole thing—this whole night—feels like I’m balancing on a razor’s edge, and I’m terrified of falling off.

When her response finally comes, it’s short.

It’s 2am.

Ok, it’s not ideal. but I can’t stop thinking about everything you said.

And everything I didn’t say.

There’s another long pause, and I can almost picture her on the other end, trying to figure out what to say. We’ve been dancing around each other for so long, caught up in this push and pull, and now it feels like we’re on the verge of something, but neither of us knows how to take the next step.

Then, her next message comes through, and it’s enough to make my chest tighten. It’s hesitant but willing.

Where are you?

Outside your hotel.

Her reply is instant this time.

Come up.

I shove my phone into my pocket and step out of the Uber, my mind on a million as I make my way to her room. Every step feels heavy as if I’m walking through mud, but there’s a part of me that knows this is where I need to be—where I’ve always needed to be.

When I reach her door, it swings open almost as soon as I knock, and there she is, standing in front of me. Her eyes are guarded, just like her text messages, but I can see something softer underneath. Something that tells me she’s just as scared of this as I am.

“Paige,” she says, her voice a little wistful as she fiddles with the door knob. She looks me up and down, almost as if I’m being examined before I’m allowed in.

I don’t know what to say, so I just step forward, closing the distance between us. “I’m not drunk,” I state, shooting down her concerns from a few moments ago. She wouldn’t proceed if there was a chance I wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.

She looks at me for another long moment, like she’s trying to decide if she believes me. Then, with a sigh, she steps aside, letting me in. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I lean against it. Suddenly we’re alone in her room, the reality of the situation settling around us.

“I know I shouldn’t have texted. But I did, and I’m glad I’m here.” I ramble, although still stern.

She sighs, and the curls that fall perfectly over her shoulders bounce a bit. Shes in a pair of short pajama shorts and a long, grey Nike tee-shirt that could’ve been mine. Correction, it definitely is mine. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

“It doesn’t have to be hard. We can make it less complicated.” I try to reason.

She stiffens, her breath catching as she looks at me, her eyes searching mine. “I—“

“I’m serious,” I cut her off, my voice low as I step closer to her. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking. “I don’t know when I’m gonna see you again. And I can’t… I can’t leave tomorrow without letting you know how much I care.”

I don’t say it out loud, but the words are there, hanging in the air between us. I love you. And I’m sorry. But I can’t bring myself to say it. I don’t know why. Instead, I just hope she can feel it, hoping she knows without me having to spell it out.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says quietly, her back turned to me as she walks further into the room. “Running to me when you’re feeling lost. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” I admit, taking a step closer. “But I’ont know how to stop. I’ve tried, but… since you’ve been apart of my life it’s been hard to let you go. I don’t wanna lose you—“

“You already did,” she cuts me off, turning to face me, and it scares me how serious she sounds. There’s pain in her eyes, but there’s also something else—something that makes me hope, even if just for a second. “We both did.”

I close the gap between us, and I can tell it catches her by surprise because of the look she gives me. My hands gently cup her face. “Then why am I here? Why did you let me in again?”

She glances down at my lips, and despite being angry, she doesn’t respond with words. Physicality has always been our response for everything involving each other. It’s all we know. She leans into my touch, and it feels like a birthday gift. Her eyes flutter shut before she opens them again, and it’s enough to make me lean in, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that’s more desperate than anything else.

She kisses me back, her hands finding their way to my shoulders as she pulls me closer, and for a moment, it feels like everything else fades away. It’s just us, tangled up in each other, trying to find something solid to hold onto.

But then she pulls back, breathless, her hands still resting on my shoulders. She’s looking down, like she’s fighting some internal battle. “Oh my God,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You are drunk.”

“I told you I’m not,” I murmur, trying to find her eyes and pull her back to me by the waist, but she resists, her fingers gripping my shoulders tighter. Her resistance is strong, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if she’s trying to push away the intensity of the moment. “Please, Drea.”

She shakes her head, eyes still averted. “I can taste the alcohol!” She brings her thumb up to brush over my lips. “I knew it, why the fuck would you lie?” She’s trying to walk away at this point, but my grip is too tough. I won’t let her go.

“No, listen,” I say, more eager and clear. “What I said, what I meant—none of that has to do with being drunk. I’m here because I need you. Because I want you. This isn’t just about tonight.”

Drea’s resolve falters, her eyes flickering back to mine with her perfectly arched eyebrows crinkling up just a bit. “You’re saying all the right things, but I can’t just ignore—”

I cut her off by pulling her closer, my grip firm but gentle on her hips. My thumbs move beneath her shirt, stroking her skin and feeling the muscle. “I know.” My lips are ghosting over her ear. “But please, just for tonight, let’s not think about it.” I press a kiss right below it. “Just be with me. Let’s just be here.”

“Paige..” she starts again, her voice softer this time, and I love it when she says my name. I lean in, silencing her with a kiss that’s both insistent and tender. She melts into it, her resistance breaking as she wraps her arms around my neck. Shes quick to sneak her tongue in, the movement making me wince, furrowing my brows at how good she tastes.

I guide her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she falls onto it with a soft thud. I follow her down, my body pressing against hers as our kiss grows more fervent. My hands explore her curves, skimming over the fabric of her shirt as it rides up, and I feel her shiver beneath me.

“Is this mine?” I breathe against her lips, the warmth of her hands on my cheeks making my face flush a vibrant red. Drea nods, her breath hitching as she catches the look in my eyes. Without another word, I grab the hem of her shirt and yank it up over her head, tossing it aside. The shirt hits the floor, and she starts giggling like a school girl, her chest now fully exposed and daunting.

The sound of her laughter makes my stomach flip, and I can’t help but grin, leaning down to capture her mouth in another kiss. This time, there’s no hesitation, no holding back. Our bodies press together, her skin warm and soft against mine, like it was made for me.

My hands begin to wander a bit too much, all the way down to her shorts. Slipping my hand in, I can already feel how wet she is. She lets out a soft gasp as I trace slow, deliberate circles against her clit firmly. “Tell me what you want, baby,” I whisper, my breath fanning over her neck.

Her body has always reacted to every touch, every word. She’s trying to stay composed, but I can tell she’s barely holding on. Her hips instinctively push against my hand, silently begging for more, but I keep my movements steady, torturously slow and sloppy. I want to hear her say it.

“You,” she breathes out, her voice wavering. She’s antsy, I can feel it—the way her muscles tense, the way her breath comes in shallow pants.

“C’mon,” I murmur, nipping at her earlobe. “You can do better than that.”

She whimpers, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as she tries to find the words. “Please… I need—” She breaks off, a soft moan escaping her lips when I press harder, right where she needs it most.

But then she grabs my wrist, stopping me just before she can fall over the edge. Her eyes lock with mine, and they’re low, dark, and daring. Three words that are very Drea. “Stop,” she says, her voice firmer now, even though I can tell it’s taking all her willpower. “I wanna feel you.”

The way she says it—so raw, so desperate—it’s enough to make me slip into a trance. I pull back, my gaze lingering on her as I strip off the rest of my clothes, watching as she does the same. Every inch of her is so perfect to the point where it should be a crime, and I want to touch every part.

I lay back on the bed, and she climbs on top of me, her movements deliberate and careful as she positions herself right over the bottom half of my body. I let my hands slide down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before coming to rest on her ass. I tilt my head slightly against the pillows, mouth slightly agape. I can’t resist giving her a gentle squeeze, eliciting a soft noise from her. I smile, and my hands linger there, holding her close as she settles into place. We’ve done this countless amounts of times, and every single time it feels different. Better.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, you know that?” I pull her hips down, aligning our bodies perfectly, and the feeling of her heat against mine makes my breath catch, but I’m still focused. “Could stay like this all night.”

Drea licks her lips, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she adjusts herself, the friction and jolting of our bodies a whole whirlpool of pleasure. “You better,” she whispers back, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as her hands grip my legs so she can find herself.

Slowly, she starts to move, her hips grinding down against mine in a smooth rhythm. Every slide of her body against me is agonizingly perfect, and I can’t help the groan that escapes as she finds a pace that makes my whole body push up against her.

My eyebrows furrow as I take sight of where we meet, her pussy flat against mine. The squelching of our juices together fills the room, and I lose it. Maybe the alcohol is accentuating the feeling for me, or she’s just this good. “Fuck…” I breathe out, my hands roaming up her back, feeling the muscles flex and move beneath her skin. “You feel so good. Always so good.”

Her response is a soft moan, her head falling forward slightly as she loses herself. I let my hands slide back down to her ass, guiding her movements, making sure every grind, every brush of our bodies, hits just right. I can feel her trembling, her thighs shaking as she picks up the pace, chasing that high.

I can’t resist teasing her a little, my hands kneading her ass as she rides me, my fingers brushing just along the edge of her entrance, close enough to make her squirm but not enough to give her what she really wants. She lets out a frustrated moan, hips moving harder, trying to get more.

“Paige!” she groans, voice full of need and just the right amount of anger, her breath coming out in ragged pants. “Stop playing with me. I can’t take it.”

My grip tightens, and I keep her exactly where I want her, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind her ear, my fingers lingering as I brush my thumb gently along her cheek. “You can take it, baby,” I whisper. “I know you can.”

She looks at me with those pleading eyes, her breath hitching as she adjusts herself, arching her back more. The movement pushes her even closer to me, our bodies pressing together, and the feeling almost sends me over the edge.

Without warning, I dip two fingers into her entrance, the sight too pretty to resist. It makes her gasp, her body collapsing forward against me. Our skin sticks together, warm too from the sweat, and her chest is pressing against mine as she struggles to catch her breath.

Before she can lose herself entirely, I slide my hand to her lower stomach, pushing her back up, guiding her into place. “Nah, stay up w’me, ma.” My voice is shaky with the effort of holding it together. Out of breath, mouth wide open. “Hold that shit.”

She whines out, her voice high and so pornographic. “Mm—oh, I can’t…” Her words trail off into a desperate moan, her body shuddering as my fingers move in that come-hither motion, curling inside her just right. The feeling of her slick is almost too much to bear, making my head spin.

I push through, keeping her steady even as I feel myself starting to lose control. “You can,” I pant, my breath coming out in ragged bursts. “So close, I know you can do it.”

She’s trembling, her thighs shaking as she tries to follow my command, but I can see the strain on her face, her dilated pupils, the way she’s fighting to keep herself together. My fingers work faster, deeper, and she bites down so hard on her lip I swear it might bleed.

Finally, when I feel her body tighten around me, right on the edge of breaking, I tap her ass lightly with my palm and pull my fingers out just enough to catch everything. “Now, baby. Come for me.”

The moment I say it, she lets go, and we come together, our bodies moving in sync, the room filled with strangled noises. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and I cling to her as we ride it out. She’s finally able to fall on top of me comfortably, hand resting on my chest.

We stay like that for a moment, tangled together, both of us shaking with the aftershocks, until we finally start to come down. I press a soft kiss to her temple, my heart still racing (for more than one reason I’ll admit) as I hold her close.

I can feel her hesitance, scared to move or say anything. But I can also feel her tiredness, the way her body sags against mine like she’s too worn out to keep up any walls.

Gently, I shift, moving my body so I’m laid up next to her, our limbs tangling together naturally. My arm stays draped around her, holding her close as she nestles her head into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin. It feels good—too good—like maybe we could stay like this forever if we didn’t know better.

“I want you to mean what you said. All of it.” 

Her words hang, and I can feel her hesitation, the fear that I’m just saying things because it’s easier than dropping the bomb or just straight losing her. I swallow, pulling her closer.

“You’ont think I did?”

���Paige.”

“Drea, I do.”

She doesn’t respond right away, just presses herself deeper into me, like she’s trying to believe it, trying to let herself see us being more than what we are right now without it turning into shit. I know how hard that is, how many times we’ve proven we aren’t made for each other.

“Then prove it,” she finally murmurs, her voice a little stronger now, like she’s challenging me, daring me to back it up.

I nod against her, not sure if she can even feel it, but I know what she means. It’s not about words anymore—it’s about what comes next, and whether we can make it work. “I will,” I promise, and for once, I really believe it.

[sahrii]

🤲🏽 msby black jackals!atsumu x reader angst where reader and atsumu are dating in secret but his fans dont know and y/n gets pretty hurt and jealous over some incident (you can choose) and its hurt/comfort with atsumu posting y/n 🙏🏽

smau + written if u can? snjdjsjdka sorry

only this time ! 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

atsumu miya x gn!reader

warnings! please pay attention to the dates and times, they’re kind of important, emotionally overwhelmed reader, mentions of drinking, hurt to comfort, mentions of crying, stupid atsumu :(, reader is alr friends w kiyoko and yachi, private relationship, cursing

also i’d like to thank @dearru for beta reading hehe thank u sm!

[11.11.2018, 12.08pm]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[11.11.2018, 12.34pm]

that was the first time atsumu never stood up to his words. he never ended up coming. he never ended up hugging you. never ended up telling you that it’s going to be okay. never ended up with his lips on yours, murmuring between kisses that he loves you to the point where it was going to kill him. never.

it was a murky, lonely night. you’d given up on him coming ages ago and sat on the soft yet lorn mattress of your bed, wrapped in what seems like ten blankets, thinking you’d be better off with his body heat instead of your own—or the blankets.

he’s probably too tired from practice. or something important popped up. or it might be that he’s just stuck in traffic and he’ll end up coming. you continued making excuses for him while drifting off to sleep, thinking of how good your night would’ve been with his arms wrapped around your figure and your head on his toned chest, listening to the echoes of his heart whispering words of love into your ears.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[12.11.2018, 11.23am]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

your trembling fingers clicked on the video yachi sent. this couldn’t be him. it couldn’t be atsumu. not when you told him you felt like absolute crap yesterday.

your eyes began to sting with tears and your felt as though the weight of the whole world fell unto your shoulders. you felt suffocated. suffocated and every other connotation of that word as if someone was purposely clutching at the back of your neck and pushing your head into water. you couldn’t breathe.

he didn’t even bother texting—no, he was out, getting drunk with his teammates at a fancy restaurant surrounded by a bunch of girls. truth be told, he wasn’t quite close to any of the girls, who you assumed were fans, but that didn’t really matter. what mattered is that he wasn’t there when you wanted him to be.

you chucked your phone to the other end of the bed and buried your face into the closest pillow to you and let your sorrowed tears soak the case of your white pillow.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[21.11.2018, 4.03pm]

[notes: left on seen]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[21.11.2018, 9.28pm]

one knock, followed by two then another one. it was atsumu’s hallmark knock. you know that because it’s what he’s been doing every time he comes over. one knock, two knocks, and then one more knock.

you expected him to come, but hoped he didn’t. or maybe, deep inside, you hoped he’d come. you missed the way the earthy, clean smell of his cologne sneaked into your nostrils every time you’d nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck. the way his autumn brown eyes stared into yours. your missed the way his hand felt against yours, soft yet peppered with tiny callouses.

your breath hitches as you opened the door, only to find atsumu. your atsumu. with worried, remorseful eyes. eyes that screamed at you with apologies.

you stepped aside, silently inviting him in, and he accepted, gratefully by stepping a foot in. you closed the door, eyes stuck to the ground, unable to meet his honey orbs.

you wanted to hug him and tell him how much you missed your body being embraced by his arms and your fingers combing his soft yet tangled hair and—

“i—fuck! ’m sorry. ’m so sorry, i didn’t—listen, that day I was gonna come over, i really was—but i completely forgot that we had the team’s annual dinner that day—it completely slipped out of my mind and, i don’t know, i’m a dumbass ‘kay? i’m a shitty boyfriend and—“ he breathed. his hands were clenched and glued to his sides. “i’m an asshole and ’m sorry. you don’t deserve that, you deserve way better and you deserve to feel like you’re my priority. fuck—’m so sorry,” he stared into your eyes. you could feel your eyes stinging with tears, and a lump forming at the back of your throat.

“atsumu—listen, i was upset and i’m still upset. like—it’s not even the fact that you went out. if you sent me a text, i would’ve not minded. it’s the fact that you went out when i told you that i felt like shit and then never texted—like—i had to know from a video yachi sent on the group chat. do you know how much that hurt, atsumu?” your rasped out, fighting against the tears. in your heart, you’ve already forgiven him, but in your head, you had to tell him because you don’t think you can handle feeling like second to everything else one more time.

“i know, and i honestly don’t have anything to say to that. that was so shitty of me, i don’t know what the fuck came over me. ’m sorry,i—i promise this won’t happen again,” his hand was clutching his hair now, slightly tugging it. “so please, ’m sorry—please forgive me,” he whispered. it was as if you could see his voice physically break, and that was all it took for you to hurry his way and swing both your arms around his neck. and for him to wrap his arms around your torso.

it felt good, all the tension melted away. the weight on your shoulders was pushed off as soon as your skin made contact with his. as soon as you felt the hot breath of his mouth landing onto the crook of your neck. you pulled away slightly so that your eyes were directly staring at his, noses almost touching.

“only this time,” you said, referring to the fact that you forgave him so easily.

“only this time,” he repeated, hugging you closer.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[21.11.2018, 11.35pm]

later that night, after briefing each other about how your days have been without each other around, he said that he had to send a quick text to the coach telling him he’ll be missing practice tomorrow to spend the whole day with you (he was secretly planning to miss the whole week, but was too afraid to tell you so he decided to leave it till tomorrow night).

your head was laying on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, legs tangled with his. your thumb lazily swiped down against the slightly cracked screen of your phone, updating your twitter feed every few seconds while he was busy texting his coach.

suddenly, a new post on atsumu’s twitter appeared. a picture of both your hands intertwined with the caption: [for everyone asking what’s the most important thing to me]

you glanced from your phone into his handsome face, leaning in to place a small peck on the apples of his cheek.

“you are such a dork” you grinned, snuggling into his chest one again.

“you love me though” he replied, lopsidedly smiling.

and it was true, you did love him.

[defmaybe]

Pros of Pursuing Photography as Your Career

Red Velvet’s Son Seungwan/Wendy x Male Reader

0.6k words

Prequel to Reticence

“Who’s your mommy, huh?” Seungwan asks, one hand shuffling your hair gently, the other pumping your throbbing length up and down.

“You are my mommy,” you reply with your mouth on one of her pert breasts, a hand kneading the other under that midriff-revealing top. Satisfied hums come out of her closed lips.

She’s sharp in her seduction—so tender, yet so effective. That Grooverhyme campaign sparked the fuse within you—for her, but there’s probably zero chance. You thought she was just being nice from all of those interactions, but one confessional kiss in the bathroom at the company’s party was all it took for you to fall under her spell. She fell for you too—a part-time photographer for SM—after all.

“Do you like being jerked off by mommy like this?” Seungwan asks another question, hands unbuttoning your shirt. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes, mommy. I love being jerked off by you like this.” It’s a rhetorical question, really. You don’t expect yourself to answer anything else when you’re lying down on the couch with one of her nipples in your mouth like this.

“Hmm, what a lovely mouth you have, baby boy.” She draws shapes and patterns on your scalp atop of the handjob, making you groan in pleasure.

Her chest feels so soft in your mouth and your hand—brown nipples, small size. You’re ecstatic that she lets you do this. You fucking love her tits. Fuck, you just love everything that’s hers.

With a few swift movements, your shirt comes undone, revealing your abdomen. Seungwan can’t stop herself, of course. She draws her hand from playing with your hair to your chest. Your moans grow louder under her lively touches.

“Your hands feel so good, mommy,” you say, so lost in the throes of delight she’s giving you. You wish you can just stay like this forever, being jerked off and sucking her tits like this.

Seungwan giggles. “Thanks, baby boy.”

Her hand plays with your cock so adeptly, taking swipes off your leaking slit when she’s at the top and tightly grip you when she’s at the bottom. Your orgasm cannot come sooner.

Every good thing must come to an end, though, as Seungwan looks at the clock on the wall.

“Baby boy, I’m so sorry. I’ll have to finish this quicker than I thought.”

You whimper in disappointment, but you understand the busy nature of her job. “Okay, mommy.” You prepare to get up, but Seungwan presses you down, not wanting you to leave yet.

“I’m gonna make you cum first, baby boy. On three, alright?”

“Y–Yes, mommy.”

She quickens the pumps, determined to make you reach the precipice. You can feel it in your loins—that feeling.

“One.”

It’s there, the wave is coming. Seungwan goes even quicker with her hand. Your breath comes out in shallow pants onto the firmness of her chest.

“Two.”

She grips you like a vice. She’s so eager, yet so gentle in making you cum. You pant even more quickly as she smiles brightly. It’s sincere. She wants to make you cum. She wants her baby boy.

“Three, cum for me, baby boy, cum for me.”

Your dam breaks. White spurts land everywhere—on your firm chest, on Seungwan’s face, on her hand, even some can be found on her tits. You moan in satisfaction, over and over. Your eyes flutter in ecstasy.

Your orgasm then subsides. You finally look up again to see Seungwan beaming at you, cum-smeared on her angelic face. She laughs softly.

“You did so well, baby boy, you did great for mommy,” she says.

“Thanks, mommy. Are we doing this again?”

“Definitely, baby boy, definitely, well, maybe.”

—

[star-girl69]

New Romantics

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse meet during a capture the flag game, In A Good Way prequel!!

a/n: IM SO GLAD EVERYONE LIKES MY CLARISSE FIC ☹️☹️☹️☹️ i have so many planned but i just wanted to say thank you all sm!!!! this one is so silly….. i hope you all enjoy!!

LMK IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY CLARISSE TAGLIST!!!!!!

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of death and blood, insane clarisse bc she gets a LITTLE too into capture the flag, protective clarisse obvi i will never write a fic without her showing up, clarisse makes me SWOON if you couldn’t tell, not proofread we get turned into pine trees like thalia over here, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your legs ache. You’ve been at Camp Half Blood all your life, but you just spent the entire school year doing absolutely nothing. It was an adjustment. You’re already being forced into the horrible tradition of capture the flag. You met up with your favorite and best friends Jackie and Tyla at the beginning of summer, and you’ve all been attached to the hip ever since.

The three of you thought you could escape to a random part of the woods and skip out.

It’s not like you were lazy, or couldn’t hold your own in a fight- but you had just taken turns doing each others nails yesterday, and it would be such a shame to see them all smudged and broken.

You were on the red team, so you watched as the incomparable Clarisse La Rue ran around instructing everyone what to do- completely skipping past the three of you. Jackie took it to heart, complaining about how she had lasted two minutes sparring with Clarisse once, and she had no right to label all Aphrodite kids as weak and useless.

You remember the night you finally made it to the crest of camp, blood staining your hands, your satyr protector dead on the ground behind you as some monster you didn’t know the name of chased after you.

The three of you thought maybe a nice walk at the edge of the woods would be nice, when suddenly a squadron of the blue team came running out trying to catch you as prisoners. It wasn’t a rule of the game, but it was generally expected that that the winner had more prisoners, or else the victory just didn’t seem right.

The blue team saw Aphrodite kids as easy targets to pick off.

This felt all too familiar to that stormy light, your pounding heart, looking around as everything crashed around you. One of them even jumped down from the freaking trees, and you screamed at the top of your lungs as all three of you sprinted off into different directions.

There was only one chasing behind you, a Hermes kid you didn’t know the name of, but he was fast on your tail.

Just as you had reached the crest of the hill, you screeched at the top of your lungs as you saw four figures in front of you. A satyr. Two girls. One boy.

“Not another one,” the stayr moaned, before beckoning you towards them. You stayed frozen in place. The monster was big and slow, but you could hear it approach.

The boy held out his hand.

“I promise,” he breathed, locking eyes with the smaller girl, maybe a year or two younger than you, before looking up at the older girl. You could tell she was battle hardened, she was ready to win this. “We’ll all make it to camp.”

Both monsters chasing you let out ear-piercing roars, and you quickly slapped your hand into his and sprinted away.

Thalia, you would later learn her name, didn’t survive that night. But you did. Luke did. Annabeth did.

The three of you will forever be bonded by that, even if you’re on different teams in capture the flag. Gods, you wish it was Luke chasing you right now- but it’s not.

You’ve forgotten everything about swords and fighting in exchange for the Russian Revolution and the Periodic Table. You hate school even more in this moment.

He reaches out towards you and you’re distracted by his hand touching your shoulder, heart pounding in your ears, and you trip right over a root and stumble before falling to the ground.

You faintly see the flash of bronze armor pass you, then you suddenly hear a body slam into the ground. You whip around, only to find a girl wearing a red-tipped helmet on top of the boy chasing you.

“Clarisse!” she shouts. “I got him!”

You breathe heavily, watching at the boy yells and tries to buck her off of him, but you faintly remember seeing her constantly around Clarisse. She must be another Ares kid, which means there’s no way she’s letting this Hermes kid gets away.

Clarisse saunters out of the woods on your left, looking between you and the boy on the ground.

You sit up on your hands, watching it all play out, not able to catch your breath.

She smiles, slow, like a cheshire cat.

Gods, why does she have to look like that? Why does she have to smile like that? Why does she have to make you feel this way?

Why doesn’t she just drop the spear and make out with you?

“So, this is the dummy who thinks it’s funny to chase around Aphrodite kids,” she says, slowing walking turns him. The girl holds up his head so he has to look at Clarisse. She places the end of her spear into the dirt. She leans down in front of him. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Aphrodite cabin is on the red team, right? Right?”

The girl tugs his head up and he winces, but nods.

“And who captains the red team? Cause I think it’s me, isn’t it?”

He’s learned his lesson. He nods quickly, now.

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you apologize to the pretty girl, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

His eyes lock with yours. He says nothing.

“I said apologize, dumbass.”

He glares at Clarisse.

“You’re fucking insane.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s capture the flag, Zander, why are you not getting a little crazy? Chasing after Aphrodite kids is just embarrassing, honestly.”

“Fine,” he spits. “Fucking fine. I’m sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” she coos. She nods, and the girl let’s him go.

Holy Hades if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He runs straight off into the woods after a moment, when he realizes they’re not gonna chase after him, not now at least.

The other girl turns to you. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dust off your knees. “There’s more of them by the edge, just so you know. Just north of the river.”

The girl smiles. “Gods, yes. Fuckin’ love destroying the Hermes cabin.”

Clarisse turns to you. She tilts her head to the side, watching you breath heavily on the ground. She sticks out your hand. Your grab it quick, scared she might pull away, and her hand is so warm and fits perfectly with yours. She pulls you up and you dust off your knees.

The other girl takes off running, following the boy, yelling for Clarisse to hurry up.

She smiles a bit, and you swear to Zeus her cheeks are a little flushed, you swear she looks at your lips for a second.

She brushes her thumb across her cheek.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous.”

She runs off before you can say anything, electrical spear crackling to life.

Oh, you fucking love capture the flag.

—-

clarisse “you’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous” la rue the woman you are

—-

[reidmania]

baked away | spencer reid

spencer reid x (fem) reader

description ;

anxiety doesn’t help when your boyfriend is away on a case — good thing baking does.. until it gets too much, good thing Spencer comes home.

hurt/comfort

warnings ;

mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, reader likes avoiding their feelings (same), talks about not eating properly or sleeping, ignoring phone calls, stress baking (also same) idk if there is any mention of gender but i said fem reader just incase their was. if theres anything i missed let me know!!

an ; pls this is #relatable

The house smelt of all sorts of baked good, cupcakes, cookies, brownies, you name it - there was a tray of it sitting on the kitchen counter, or the dining table since the counter grew rather full pretty quickly.

When Spencer was away for work, it wasn’t abnormal for your anxiety to peak. The pit in your stomach would deepen, your chest would feel tighter and your brain was working overtime pumping thoughts so often it crossed over the line to overthinking within minutes.

Baking helped somewhat.

Spencer knew your love for baking, cooking, anything to do with it — you loved. He knew you baked when you were stress, but he wasn’t aware of the extent of it.

Normally, by the time he was back from a case you had already given away majority of your baked goods to anyone who would take them — your parent’s, your neighbours, homeless shelters, book stores, anywhere that accepted them.

This time your anxiety seemed at an all time high this week, you couldn’t remember the last time you were able to sleep, your mind never slowing down enough to close your eyes for more than a couple of minutes. You weren’t sure what exactly had made it this bad — Spencer was away for a case. It just like any other time he was away, expect it wasn’t.

Your mind couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that could possibly happen while he was away. You were so distracted that you had been sent home from work on Monday, and given the rest of the week off because your boss genuinely believed you were sick.

Being home didn’t help — you were without any distractions, which ultimately led to the state of the kitchen. There were eight trays of cookies, five of brownies and nearly ten of cupcakes. You hadn’t left the kitchen in days — besides going to the shops whenever you ran out of ingredients, which had been 6 times, in the last four days.

Baking was a good distraction, your mind was able to focus on the measurements you needed, and the time things needed to bake that it didn’t focus on the fact your boyfriend may be in serious danger.

You hadn’t checked your phone, too scared that maybe if you looked it would be a text saying that something happened to Spencer — and while you would want to know if something did happen, avoidance seemed easier to cope with.

You were in the middle of making another batch of brownies when the door clicked open. You were busy muttering to yourself to hear it — too focused on focusing on the brownies.

Spencer walked into the house, a slight sense of panic. You hadn’t answered your phone in days — He assumed maybe you were busy, but it didn’t stop him panicking like a mad man and taking it out on the rest of the team until he was able to come home.

A wave of relief washed over him when he breathed in the scent of baked goods, not just any — yours.

“Baby?” He called out as he kicked off his shoes, placing his case on the ground next to the door, the lack of response made his eyebrows furrow as he walked towards the sweet smell.

He called your name, before he stepped into the kitchen, only for his eyes to widen as he looked over the state of it, while still maintaining a clean appearance — dishes wise, his eyes scanned over the numerous trays of deserts scattered over the counter and dining room table.

You finally looked up, meeting his eyes there was like a switch in your brain that went off — he was okay — he was home and he was safe and everything was okay.

“Spence!” You smiled widely as you quickly turned to place the brownies in the oven before shuffling towards him, pulling the apron off over your head, it was covered in flour and coco power of sorts.

He smiled as you came towards him, the minute he was in reach your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, breathing in his scent which calmed every muscle in your body. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against his body just as tight. “I missed you” You murmured into the crook of his neck.

He breathed out a chuckle as your words came out muffled by his skin. “Did you?” He asked, tone almost joking, which only caused you to furrow your eyebrows as you leant out of his grasp.

You didn’t say anything but your confused look was enough for him to understand you were not getting his point. “You didn’t any of my calls in days.” He sighed out.

You furrowed your eyebrows before your eyes widened. “Oh- oh!” You said, spinning on your heels as you searched around the kitchen to look for your phone. “Oh my gosh, I have been so distracted, I am so sorry!” You rushed around apologetically.

He smiled, shaking his head. “It’s alright, angel. Why don’t you tell me why we look like we are opening a bakery?” He asked, leaning forward to take a cupcake out of its tray.

You looked around the kitchen realising he was right — it did look like you were about to have a grand opening. You lips pulled into a frown as you looked back to meet his gaze.

He was biting into the cupcake, eyes still on you with his eyebrow raised as if waiting for an answer — you deflected. “Those are chocolate and honey, sounds weird right? They smelt good but I haven’t tried any, is it alright?” You asked.

He nodded his head, “Yeah they’re good” He confirmed, taking another bite, you smiled as you pinched your nose, sighing. “I didn’t ask what flavour it was” He muttered.

“Huh?”

He chuckled, placing the cupcake down on the bench — protected by the lining. He walked up to you, brushing a few stray hairs from your face as he took in your appearance. “I asked why you baked so much and you told me what flavour cupcake I was eating” He recalled.

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Whats happened?” He asked, concern lacing not only his tone but also all over his features. You could see it in the wrinkle between his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“Nothing happened.” You answered — because nothing happened. How were you supposed to say you baked hundreds of deserts because you were simply worried about him — it was pathetic and embarrassing and not something you wanted to admit.

He frowned, “Then whats wrong?” He asked, he just wanted a little bit on insight into your mind, what you were thinking — why it got to this point.

You sighed, dragging your hand up to your hair, pushing it back out of your face. “I just needed a distraction, I guess I went a little bit overboard” You muttered.

“Distraction from what?” He asked:

You chuckled, trying to push away the pressure of his question. “I don’t know? My mind?” You shrugged as if it was nothing — because to you this was normal despite how normal it wasn’t.

“Why?”

“Is this an interview?” You counteracted. You didn’t mean to come off defensive but the whole point of baking to almost the point of insanity was so you didn’t have to think about everything that your mind was rushing though and now Spencer wanted you to blurt it out. The lack of sleep and lack of sufficient food consumption over the last few days may also play a part in your slight outburst.

His frown only deepened. He took your hand wordlessly leading you to your shared bedroom. You didn’t bother fighting it, instead following him.

“Sit.” He instructed, his tone indicated there was no room for argument. You sat down on the bed, not even thinking you had enough energy to argue anyway. The adrenaline you were running off in baking was wearing off now that you knew Spencer was safe, allowing you to feel the lack of sleep.

He sat down next to you, eyes running over your own. “When did you last sleep?” He asked softly, the back of his finger running gently over your cheek as he noticed the bags under your eyes.

You shrugged.

He sighed, “Im a profiler baby, its my job to know whats going on without being told, so I can do that if thats what you’d like, but it would be a lot easier if you talked to me” He said softly.

You hated that, you hated that it was physically impossible to hide anything from him because it was literally his job to find out what people were hiding.

“I was too in my head.” You confess quietly. “I couldn’t sleep, or focus at work, my boss told me to take the week off for Christ sake. I couldn’t eat — I couldn’t do anything” You rambled.

He listened intently to every word that left your lips, taking in your tone and expression. “Why honey?” He urged, thats what he wanted to know — Why.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that could’ve happened, it was like every worst case scenario in my head all at once no matter what, everytime I closed my eyes I saw it, I felt sick to my stomach constantly — i think i had more panic attacks this week than I have in months Spence.” You continued rambling on, it was like a weight off your chest the more you spoke.

He felt his chest ache at your words — you were feeling like this and he wasn’t there. “What were you thinking about angel?” He asked, his voice threatening to break just as much as yours.

“You. All the things that could happen to you— don’t apologise and don’t feel bad. Im your girlfriend its my job to worry about you. Its never been this bad before, it was just.. really bad this time” Your hand reached your face to wipe the hot tear that fell from your eyes as you talk, your voice giving out on you.

“Oh darling.” His arms were around you instantly. “I am so sorry” He apologised despite your comment telling him not to — how couldn’t he when his girlfriend was driving herself half insane because she was worried about him.

“I was calling you whenever I could” He sighed into her hair, heart tightening as he felt her body shake with the sob that left her lips as he buried her face in his chest. “Im okay, I am right here okay? God baby Im so sorry.” His apologies came out in strings.

You shook your head in his chest, wanting to tell him to shut up — not to apologise for doing his job but you couldn’t, the lump in your throat felt too thick to swallow and words came out silent.

His arms tightened around you. “You know you can go to the office anytime yeah? Garcia is always there and she adores you, you can always go see her if your head feels a bit too messy okay?” He said softly.

You nodded.

You and Spencer stayed like that for a few minutes, before your tears came to a stop, you pulled away to look at his face — seeing he had been crying himself, his cheeks flushed and eyes red.

“Im sorry” You apologised.

He shook his head. “No, you aren’t allowed to do that, you’re not allowed to be sorry for something you can’t control honey.” He was quick to dismiss your apology, there was nothing you needed to apologise for.

He leant in to place a soft gentle kiss across your lips, hands tightening around your waist as his other hand pressed into the small of your back, pushing you closer to him before he pulled away.

“Let’s go get some real food okay? Then we can figure out what to do with your miniature bakery okay?” He muttered, forehead pressed against yours.

“Okay.” You said softly.

He smiled, “Okay.”

[luveline]

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?” 

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too. 

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork. 

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively. 

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.” 

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?” 

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say. 

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.” 

“What happened?” 

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face. 

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.” 

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.” 

You frown at one another. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again. 

“I’m consistently below average.” 

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.” 

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does. 

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.” 

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.” 

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?” 

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

[makeyoumine69]

Yo! How do you think Patrick will react when he finds out that his girlfriend has been hiding the fact that she is very sick? I love your stories by the way, keep it up!😇

Reckless

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Fluff, hurt/comfort, pet names, established relationships, reader is a total brat.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

𝐀/𝐍: Hello dear anon! Thank you sm for the kind words and sorry it took me a while to finish this request, I have been struggling with brain fog these days.

A suffocating, never-ending cough has been plaguing you for the past few days. Exhausted and irritated by your current state, you had to stay at home, barely interacting with the outside world...including Patrick, and of course he didn't like it when you told him in your last phone call that you were absolutely fine when you weren't. And you were sure Bateman didn't buy it, but right now you didn't care what he thought or didn't think. 

You popped another pill, took a big gulp of water, and rubbed your face before leaving your bathroom—you still had to solve this fucked up situation with your health insurance, which had expired for some random reason. Luckily, you always had some medicine for basic needs, but as your illness progressed, those meds weren't really helping you anymore.

As soon as you walked into your living room, you sneezed several times and at one point you thought about putting a clothespin on your nose to stop the sneezing. God, you hated being sick, but you hated being sick even more when you had to solve something. Picking up the phone, you were already looking in your notebook for the number of the health insurance company when the doorbell rang. The sound of it startled you a bit and you barely managed to hold the phone in your hands.

Who the hell is that?

Grumbling annoyedly, you walked to the door and opened it without looking at the peephole. To be honest, you were expecting to see anyone else but not him. 

"Pat-Patrick?" You blurted out in confusion, pressing a napkin to your sore nose. "What are you doing here?"

"You're alive," the man replied curtly with a wry grin. "That's a relief."

You narrowed your eyes before letting out a chuckle that almost turned into a cough. "Of course I'm alive... what made you think otherwise?"

"Yesterday I called you five times or maybe even more," Bateman explained, leaning against the doorjamb, his whole posture speaking volumes about how nervous he was. "So I wanted to make sure you were okay."

You sighed tiredly and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to suppress your cough and hide the napkin in your hand.

"Well, you see, I'm fine...nothing to worry about. I was just...a little busy yesterday."

"Busy? With what? Or with whom?"

"God, Patrick," you growled in irritation, pulling him inside so the neighbors wouldn't gossip about the two of you later. "Your jealousy is killing me sometimes."

As you closed the door behind him, you thought it would be better to leave him alone and let him take off his coat since it was quite stuffy in here, but Patrick didn't let you go and grabbed your hand firmly but gently.

"It's not jealousy, honey," Bateman crooned, getting closer to your face and attempting to kiss you, but you turned away at the last moment. "Hmm, don't you want to give your boyfriend a kiss after not seeing him in a while?"

Distancing yourself a bit, you carefully pulled your hand out of his grasp. "I've been busy with work," it wasn't a lie. "You probably don't know what it's like... to be busy."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You don't look well," his scrutinizing gaze examined you as if you were a piece of art in a museum, and due to the bright light in your apartment it was now impossible to hide your bloodshot eyes. "Are you sick or something?"

Even if I am, I don't need a babysitter.

Instead of saying that, you just wanted to walk away without answering, because you really didn't want to be a troublemaker, you could take care of yourself, but then again, he didn't allow you to move, his hands wrapped around your body like tight ropes.

"Sweetheart...talk to me."

"Fine! I didn't sleep well last night!" Damn, how were you going to tell him that you were so sick and your health insurance was fucked up for some reason? "That's all."

And than a disaster happened—you sneezed so hard that you almost stained his cashmere Prada coat. The fleeting moment of complete silence and shock between you two didn't last long as you sneezed again, then again, completely forgetting about the napkin crumpled in your hands.

"What the..." Patrick was about to curse and back away, but the sight of you almost fainting before his eyes made him forget about his stained coat. "Jesus Christ," he quickly scooped you up in his arms, holding you bridal style, and strolled down the hall to your small but cozy living room, where he gently placed you on the couch. "What... What do you want me to do to help you? Hey! Don't you dare pass out!"

Despite the terrible headache and the strong fatigue, you were still in a clear state of mind and you could swear to God that you'd never seen Patrick so panicked before, his eyes darting all over your face, his big palms cold against your hot cheeks and his voice so worried that you were afraid he might have a heart attack.

"I'm fine," you murmured suddenly, covering his trembling hands with yours. "It's just a cold...but a glass of water would be nice."

Still shocked, Bateman quickly pecked your forehead and sauntered into the kitchen, and he had no idea where you kept the damn glasses. The man almost broke the cabinet door, but then he finally found what he was looking for.

The time Patrick was gone felt like an eternity, you were still lying on the couch looking at the ceiling above you, sometimes you could see black spots behind your eyes from how badly your head was hurting. When you thought about getting up to check on Bateman, he came into the room with a glass of water in his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He asked you before handing you a glass. "Look at you, you can barely sit."

After taking a sip of water, you felt a little better, but then you had a coughing fit that nearly broke you in two. Patrick took off his coat and jacket and pulled up the sleeves of his shirt before sitting down next to you and dragging you onto his lap.

"I'm sorry," was the only thing you managed to say. "I didn't mean...to bother you."

Frowning, the man took the glass from your small hands and placed it on the coffee table. "Geez, what are you talking about?" Patrick's voice never sounded that serious. "Listen to me, dear. You really need to stop acting like a child and let me help you."

"I have medicine," you replied, as if all his words had fallen on deaf ears. "I'll be fine...I-"

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"I... I was going to see a doctor..." You weren't used to lying to people, so you chuckled awkwardly. "Today."

"Oh yeah? That means we can go together," the man brushed your messy hair from your face, his fingertips feeling so soft against your skin that for a slipping second you wished time would stop so you could enjoy this moment of intimacy a little longer. "My chauffeur is waiting-"

Suddenly you put your hand over his mouth to stop him talking. "Patrick...I don't want you to get mad but...we can't go to the hospital because my health insurance has expired," you saw his eyes darken even though he sat still and didn't try to free himself. "I have medicine and I really thought I could handle it myself without going to a doctor and spending a lot of money..."

And that was when his patience broke—in one swift motion he pushed your hand away and stood up—his face turning red with frustration.

"I can't believe a woman as smart as you can be so reckless sometimes," his words bordered on a scolding, but then he tried to calm down, rubbing the bridge of his nose and letting out a tired sigh. "What were you supposed to do? Sit here and wait to die alone or what?"

Somehow you were offended by his teacher-like attitude. "Stop it! You know I hate doctors and hospitals and needles! I don't want to...I don't want to go there...I'm scared."

Being on the verge of a breakdown, Bateman began to walk in circles around the room until he found several jars of pills sitting on the table next to you—how had he not noticed them before? Without saying a word, the man picked them up, took a proper look at the name of the medicine and tossed them somewhere behind you.

"WHAT THE HELL?" You instinctively covered yourself. "Are you crazy?"

"You really thought some vitamins would help you? Fucking vitamins?! Are those the meds you were talking about?" He towered over you, pointing to the side where he had thrown the jars of pills earlier. "You're kidding me, right?"

You hid your face in your quivering hands, so close to bursting into tears. "I told you—I'm scared! I'm scared of needles...I know if I go to the hospital I'll get hurt there!"

You didn't notice that you were already crying, and seeing you like that was what Bateman hated the most. The man closed the distance between you in several large steps and then, crouching before you, his hands carefully removed yours so he could see your face.

"Do you trust me?" He asked you suddenly, his hazel eyes fixed on yours. "Because if you don't, our relationship makes no sense."

These words struck a chord in you because of how disappointed and worried he sounded. Was the fear of hospitals really that big that you couldn't handle it?

"I trust you," you finally replied. "I'm just afraid that I have a serious illness and I'm gonna die."

Humming something to himself, Patrick took both your hands in his to give them a delicate kiss. "Don't be ridiculous, darling," he pecked your hands again, squeezing them a little harder. "I'm taking you to the best hospital in town. You'll get better, and then we'll have a nice vacation somewhere by the water. Deal?"

Even though you didn't know what was going through his head when he decided to use this childish trick to bait you like that, at some point you were grateful to him because you could finally relax a bit.

"Promise?"

With a mischievous grin, the man straightened up and planted a lingering kiss on the top of your head. "Of course, babygirl. You have my word." Bateman hugged you tightly and you buried your nose in the crook of his neck, but you couldn't smell his cologne because you were so sick. "I only want the best for you because I love...I love taking care of you."

You couldn't help but smile. "I love you too, Patrick," you purred in his ear, nuzzling his perfectly shaved cheek. "But throwing my meds around was not necessary."

Or maybe it was but you would never tell him that.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[mccormickgf]

Hiiii, can u do a craig tucker with a baby fever/breeding kink x fem reader?? It would give me so much life cause i been reading the same fanfics of him over and over 😭, thank you so much if you do it

need to breed : craig tucker

warnings: nsfw (18+), fem and afab reader, breeding, p-in-v sex, pregnancy mentions, overstimulation, feral craig tbh

notes: i was just gonna write the smut part, but i love craig sm and wanted to write more 😭 also i haven’t written smut in months so i apologize if i’m rusty <3

“we should have a kid.”

you nearly choke on your own spit at your husband’s forwardness. craig’s always been very blunt in what he says about things or others. but when it comes to the things he wants, he’s a little less vocal. so hearing a suggestion, especially like the one he said, threw you for a loop.

“you- you want to get me pregnant?” you questioned, disbelief in your tone, “and have a baby?”

“that’s usually the order it goes in, yeah.”

you roll your eyes at his sass, but you don’t comment on it. instead, you question him. “whatever, whatever,” you said, “but what’s making you want this now?”

even before you and craig got married, you two talked about having kids one day. it was something both of you wanted in the future. but you weren’t expecting the conversation to happen in the near future.

craig pushes off the doorframe, walking his body to his side of the bed. you watch him curiously as his eyes trail down your body— only wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a thin tank top.

“clyde keeps sending me pictures of he and his wife’s new baby,” craig explained, “it— i guess it just makes me wonder what our baby would look like. and we have the funds to stay afloat, even with one.”

you smile lightly at him. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. maybe it’d have craig’s jet black hair and your eyes, or your hair and craig’s eyes and nose. when you thought about his strong arms holding onto a little chubby baby— your heart soared.

you press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “let’s try.”

a broken sob falls past your lips as craig thrusts inside of you for the umpteenth time. you don’t know how long you’ve been there, laying on your back on the mattress with your legs folded to your shoulders, but you know you’ve been there long enough for craig to fuck three loads into your sopping cunt. or was it four? you could barely remember your own name, let alone how many times you’ve both cum.

“craig— oh god! it’s too much, ‘s too much!” you cried out. craig’s thrusts were furiously fast, yet accurate enough to hit that one spot that made you see stars over and over again.

“you can take it— fuck!” craig groaned, “gotta make sure you get pregnant, right?”

a shaky moan falls past your lips as you bite the bottom one, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you like a vice.

normally, craig is a slow-fucker. not necessarily overly slow in pace, but in how he takes his time to pleasure you fully. but this? this is a whole new thing for you and him. it’s like a switch got flipped inside his brain, and everything else was shut off except for his need to breed you.

craig’s cock continued to move in and out of you at an animalistic pace. your pussy was beyond spent, leaking a mix of his cum (that he hasn’t already fucked back into you) and yours onto the bedsheets. if you weren’t so out of it, you’d be embarrassed at the mess beneath you and the sound of it being fucked back into you.

“gonna fill you up with my babies, make you a mama,” craig continued to ramble, a small sheen of sweat on his forehead, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? get you all, shit— nice and pregnant.”

your cunt involuntarily squeezed around his cock at his words, a pornographic moan escaping you. craig lightly chuckled, “oh, so you do like it. i just felt your pretty pussy squeeze me.”

your face burns, but there’s very little chance for embarrassment as you feel another orgasm building up, a heat in your tummy. frantic moans and whines escape you, the pleasure bordering on painful from how many times you’ve cum.

“god, fuck!” you cried, “craig, ‘m gonna cum!” tears of pleasure escape your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

with one hand, craig reaches down and runs firm yet rhythmic circles on your clit, making you gasp. with the other, he grabs onto your hand, pressing it to his lips.

“you gonna cum with me, honey?” he said, his thrusts becoming slightly sloppier as he gets closer to his orgasm, “i’m gonna— gonna fill you up again, k? to make sure you have my baby.”

pleas leave your lips as you grip craig’s hand, throwing your head back as the heat in your stomach finally releases with a final loud moan. craig quickly follows, groaning as his load fills your pussy.

craig stays inside of you as his forehead falls against yours, both of your chests moving up and down in sync. you feel beyond spent, your legs numb from holding them up for so long.

but before you can say anything, craig leans up slightly so he can look in your eyes. “got one more in ya, honey? i wanna make sure i get you pregnant on the first try.”

[unluckilyimnot]

Hey again thank you so much for answering my love language request I loved it sm😭hope you don’t mind but may I also ask for some jealousy/possessive/protectiveness headcanons for umemiya, suo, kyotaro and togame (plus any other characters you’d like!) thanks again💗💗

When they're jealous – suo, umemiya, kyotaro, togame

m.list | rules

Suo

he’s a chill guy but don’t mess even a little bit with the people he likes

he’s the over-protective type so he doesn’t really go through an jealous phase with strangers

he jump straight to the “touch them I break your arm” with a smile on his face

he stays behind you if you think they’re nice, just in case and to let them know that you’re taken ; maybe he’ll do most of the conversation to piss them off

if they’re clearly hitting on you, he doesn’t care much then, he would probably make a sappy note about them or their looks (he’s petty like that) and leave with you, kindly guiding you with a hand on your back

but he’s a possessive guy and let’s be honest, he’ll get jealous if you’re really close to sakura or nirei

“oh you like spending time with them ? Good.” but you can tell he’s annoyed – even if he’ll NEVER admit it

he would lie about him until swearing on his dead body

but don’t be surprised if he got more clingy around them with you after that, still subtly but enough for them to acknowledge it

he holds your hand a lot outside, it’s simple, people don’t mind it much he likes it – it says it all

“you know I love you right ?” sometimes you’re scared he doesn’t know I and sometimes, just mess with you a little, he acted likes he doesn’t

just because he loves how you can spend half of your day stopping, from time to time, what you’re doing just to kiss him or stroke his hair

Umemiya

less chill than he looks like

he’s more verbal about it I think, less shy to talk about it and show you that he’s not fine with it – as long that it’s a casual situation

like you spending more time with other person than him, to the point that he feels like you’re forgetting him within your own group friends or his

he would lay on your back, leave some of his weight for you to take care off before you beg him to stop, that he’s going to kill you – but he really just need affection

you cradling his face, kissing his nose, telling him you’re sorry – the most is when you two can spend a few dates together after that, cuddle up into each other's limbs

but if someone approach you and make you uncomfortable on top of that, that’s another question

he’s not silly anymore, he’ll make sure they leave as soon as possible

and if they don’t while he’s still asking politely then you are leaving

he doesn’t want to pick a fight, but he will if he has to – but it rarely happens

what happens though is him feeling he’s not good enough for you after seeing you being friendly with someone

sadly he’s the type to think that you can always find someone better than him, when he’s already all you can ask for – you have to remind him that a lot

Kyotaro

he has a hard time showing it when he’s jealous because he feels like he shouldn’t feel like this

you’re the one noticing there’s something wrong most of the time, because he tends to be distant, with Umemiya rather than you for a bit too long without him checking on you

you have to try to talk about it with him or he’ll never come talk to you

you have to be patient and understanding ngl, because he won’t admit it until you have to tell him it’s ok to feel bad a hundred time

you really have to reassure him a lot

in the end, he’s most likely to spent the rest of the day glue to you, following you like a lost puppy

pulling on your shirt when he feels like you’re too far, he expected you to make it up for him with some good quality time : so you’re not going anywhere

it makes you giggle a lot and you end up doing nothing with him for a whole afternoon while he’s curled up against you like a cat

Togame

he has a arm around you all the time outside, especially since him and his gang are around a lot of bars

he never has much to do for you to don’t get annoyed but he’s always careful

overly, he’s not the overprotective type, just quiet jealous but he plays it cool all the time

he pulls you over in his laps or for you to rest against his chest, an arm around your waist and if you’re in a quiet corner, he may leave a few kisses in your neck

only because he loves you so much he wants you to know – and for those over there looking at you as well

he whines a little when he feels left out to tease you and so you can fall into his arms, all sorry but god he wishes he could have you whole for himself at the moment

likes it when you make it up for him (yes like that) and you can expect the same from him if you happened to be jealous of someone too

[moonstruckme]

id love to request spencer reid with a shy!reader🙈🙈 i love him sm and your work even more!! if this doesn't appeal to you thats all cool i hope you have a great day!!!

Love you <3

Spencer Reid x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer peers over the top of his cubicle as you type up your report, the mug of coffee he’d brought you still full and no longer steaming. He’s got a hypothesis. 

On Tuesday, he’d brought you a coffee at your desk. It had gone over like most interactions with you; you’d gone a bit red in the face, thanked him profusely, and cradled the mug in your hands like it was the most precious thing in your possession. But when he’d left that night, Spencer had seen the mug sitting on your desk, still full to the brim with dark, cold coffee. He’d brought you another today to see if those results would repeat. He feels a bit guilty for not just talking to you about it, but he’s got a theory and he knows you’d deny it if he asked. So instead, he’s sneaking furtive glances over the top of his cubicle, waiting until enough time has passed to call it. 

“What’re you peeping at?” 

He swivels his chair and Morgan’s leaning his hand on Spencer’s desk all suave-like. Spencer makes a face indicating he should be quiet, but you look up with a quiet “Hm?” and there’s nothing Morgan loves more than exposing him for his schemes. 

“Pretty boy here keeps looking over at your desk,” Morgan says. Spencer turns again, and your cheeks are already getting pinkish. Another thing Morgan loves: bringing attention to you, even though it’s your own personal circle of hell. “I just want to know why.” 

“I’m testing a theory,” Spencer admits. 

Unabashed interest gleams in Morgan’s eye. He quirks an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” 

Spencer tries to convey some apology in his look, and by the wariness in your features you read it. “You don’t actually drink coffee, do you?” 

The response is clear even before you open your mouth. Your eyes drop to the full mug on your desk, shoulders hunching inward sheepishly and face taking on a fire engine-esque hue. 

“I don’t,” you say quietly. And if there wasn’t already enough apology in your tone, you tack on a quick, “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” he says quickly while Morgan looks between you two and the coffee curiously. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Hold up.” Morgan’s eyebrows go up, and you shrink further. “I brought you coffee just the other day. You’re telling me you’re not drinking it?” 

“No,” you murmur. You look as though you fully expect to be shunned for your answer. 

“Then why not say something?” 

Spencer thinks that’s fairly obvious, but he’s not going to answer for you. 

“I just…” You’ve got your hands in your lap now, probably fiddling with something under your desk in that nervous way of yours. Spencer wishes you’d warm up to them. You’re new and green and always so certain you’re doing something wrong, but he wishes he could pull your hands from beneath the desk and soothe them—soothe you—until you were comfortable. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate it.” 

He can see Morgan ready to dissent, so Spencer cuts in. 

“Do you just not like coffee?” he asks, trying to stay as far from interrogative as he can for your benefit.

You do seem to relax a bit, pulling your stare from Morgan’s eagerly. “I just can’t do caffeine,” you admit. “It makes me too jumpy.” 

Spencer can’t really imagine you much more skittish than you already are on a daily basis, so he agrees that’s for the best. 

“I have seen you drink it, though.” Morgan’s voice is bemused. “In the break room. You had a cup just the other day.” 

“It was decaf,” you tell him softly. 

“We have decaf?”

“Have you looked on the top shelf of the cabinet?” Spencer asks. “There’s a surprising amount of variety. We have decaf, teas, hot chocolate mix—sometimes even apple cider mix.” 

You nod, starting to look less fidgety. Spencer likes to get you like this when he can. It’s an ongoing project of his. Maybe it’s just that it’s easier to relax when the people around you are relaxed too, but there’s something about setting you at ease in particular that makes his chest feel warm and full. That might be something else to look into. When he has time. 

“Yeah, yeah, the wonders of the top cabinet.” Morgan waves this off, as if he’s ever heard of it before (he hasn’t, Spencer can tell). “All I’m hearing is that you let us bring you coffee for weeks just because you were worried we’d bite your head off if you said something.” 

You grimace, but there’s a bit less tension in you now as you look up at Morgan, thoroughly chastened. “Sorry,” you all but whisper. 

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “I forgive you. Decaf only from now on, got it.” 

“Thanks,” you squeak as he turns around, sauntering back to his own desk. Your eyes find Spencer, meeting his for a fraction of a second before dropping to his chin. “Sorry I didn’t drink your coffee.” 

“It’s really fine,” he almost laughs, and the humor in his voice gives you the confidence to lift your eyes to his again. He’s glad for it. “I don’t care, I was just curious why you didn’t like it. And for the record,” he leans closer to the short wall dividing your desks, speaking low, “if there’s anything else like that, you can tell me. I won’t bite your head off the way he does.” He cuts a glance towards Morgan’s desk. You push your lips together, tamping down a smile. Spencer grins too, partly to encourage you and partly because he wants to. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, a new teasing edge to it that he likes the sound of. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” 

“Great.” He reaches over, taking the mug from your desk. “I’m going to go pour this down the drain. Do you want me to grab you a decaf?” You can’t seem to decide between thanks so much and really, you don’t have to, so Spencer brings you one anyway.

[muxshwriting]

articulate

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

summary: Feyd realises how much he misses his wife despite seeing her everyday || warnings: grovelling?, guilt, violence, anger || word count: || masterlist

read the precursor to this: voiceless

REQUEST: would you be able to write a part two to voiceless, where feyd becomes more interested in spending time and being seen with his wife, even around others while she grows more content without him (maybe finding other people/friends for company). kinda like a “falling in love too late” kinda thing? thanks sm ❤️

You had withdrawn from your husband, done the bare minimum that was expected of you. It was what was expected of you, and the members of Harkonnen High Society were glad to see you taking your proper place. It seemed the only person not enjoying your new role was you. Even your husband was far more contented by having his days without bother and to not be questioned everytime he did anything.

But as time wore on, it started as the little things Feyd noticed he now lacked: the small glances you shared with him across the table, a squeeze of his hand before he stood, a gentle kiss to greet him. Now he ate alone, with you eating in your own chambers. You greeted him in the morning with a cold nod, no words exchanged.

He wondered what you did with your days, supposing you now lived a very lonely existence. He supposed that was the life of all noble woman, for that was the tradition of Geidi Prime and House Harkonnen, their women were nothing more than grabs for power and means to an heir.

But the more he thought, the more he doubted his family’s tradition. His familial tradition was to murder one another, why should he follow a tradition that would have his son murder you once he came of age. Perhaps tradition needed changing, perhaps he would pay you a visit, invite you to join his some days. Then again, maybe that was guilt. And Feyd-Rautha didn’t feel guilt, for anything or anyone.

“Wife!” His voice echoed as he walked into your shared chambers one evening. You were sat reading a book and glanced up as he entered.

“Yes husband?” You replied to him, placing your book down and moving to stand.

“I want to accompany me tomorrow.”

His words sent a wave of confusion through you. There were no noble visits scheduled in the coming days, nothing that would require you by his side. “Accompany you? May I ask where?”

“To my duties.” Feyd said it like it was obvious. “I have been neglecting my duty to you. Is it an offence for a husband to require his wife’s company?”

The words were said without true care behind the words and you felt your stomach twist as you reached for your book once more. “I regret to inform you that I have engagements tomorrow that I must attend to.”

“Cancel them.”

You look up at his incredulously. “Excuse me? I cannot simply cancel my plans on a moments notice because of your whim.”

Feyd bit back his anger at your rejection, ignoring the sting of pain that sat at his heart. “Very well. When do your engagements cease?”

“I am a busy woman, I barely spend a day alone nowadays. Forgive me for not keeping my schedule free and spend my time wallowing in loneliness. I can free up the day after tomorrow. Is that satisfactory for you Na-Baron?”

His wife’s coolness towards him made him doubt his intentions in the first place. Finally, he nodded solemnly, turned on his heel and exited the chamber.

Unknown to Feyd, his wife had been finding her entertainment and pleasure in other ways, finding any way to spend a day with others. It had began with her handmaiden, just a few hours helped a friendship blossom that then extended to her friends within the servants. They had created a bond that could not be broken, a space where they were not servants and she was not Na-Baroness.

Many of the servants were slaves from off-world, much how she was a slave to her husband and had been ripped from her own home and her own family to join his. There was a solace in their space she knew Feyd would not understand.

True to her word, she joined Feyd days later, sat in her seat at the breakfast table, and followed three steps behind as she did in the beginning. But there was no longing threaded into every move she made. She did not long for his love anymore, there was not a begging for attention and affection. You didn’t go out of your way to squeeze his hand or press a kiss to his cheek.

Feyd had been expecting your affection. And yet you showed him none. He was your husband but he would not be your lover.

He wished he could be, an affection from you only to him. He wanted the devotion of his wife the same way he wanted air to breathe but you would not be his air. You had found a contented life on Geidi Prime that did not involve bending to your husbands will and crawling at his feet for his love. You would perform your marital duty and spend your days in your chambers or in hidden rooms with your friends where your duty would escape you and your title would be worth nothing.