#just saying stuff that's been said before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldfades · 20 hours ago

Text

never felt so alone───paige bueckers

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by @wanderlusturous -> Paige x reader too 🤍 like maybe some teammate fics | i hope you enjoy, babe!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst to fluff, ACL injury stuff, paige being a cutie patootie, not sure if theres anything else but it has a happy ending!

The first time you let yourself cry about it—really cry, not just a few silent tears swallowed in the dark—you were alone in the training room, knee wrapped in ice, watching your team warm up on the screen mounted in the corner. The sound was off, but you didn’t need it. You could hear it anyway. The sneaker squeaks, the ball hitting the floor, the echoes of laughter and easy, thoughtless movement. It was the sound of a world that had moved on without you.

And you hated that it hurt this much.

It had been almost a year. A year since your body betrayed you in front of thousands. Since your whole life had changed in a single wrong step, your knee buckling beneath you in a way it was never supposed to. A year since you lay on the court, gripping your leg with hands that shook, blinking up at the overhead lights while everything around you blurred into background noise. A year since you had to sit in that tiny, sterile room with a doctor who didn’t bother to soften the news: ACL tear. Surgery. Recovery. Long, slow, brutal.

And just like that, everything you had been working toward, everything you had been so sure was yours—the draft, the number one pick, the future you had mapped out for yourself since you first picked up a ball—was gone.

You tried to be okay about it. You told everyone you were okay about it.

But you weren’t.

Because now, every time you walked into that gym, it wasn’t the same. You weren’t the same. You felt it in the way people looked at you, in the way their eyes darted to your knee before meeting your face. In the way their encouragement sounded more like pity, their reassurances empty, weightless.

“You’ll be back,” they’d say, and maybe they believed it. Maybe they didn’t. It didn’t matter. Because you knew the truth. You weren’t the same player. You weren’t the same person.

And you had never felt more alone.

But if there was anyone who understood, it was Paige.

She never said much about it, but she didn’t have to. She had been through it too. She knew what it was like to go from untouchable to sidelined, to watch the game you loved move forward without you, to wonder if you’d ever be the same again.

And lately, she was the only person you could stand to be around.

You had been staring at your phone for so long that the screen dimmed, and for a moment, you just let it. You let the notification blur into the background, just another soft glow in the otherwise empty space of your mind. But the words were already burned into your vision. You could still see them, could still hear them.

ESPN: The new projected #1 pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft has been updated.

You hadn’t even opened the article. You didn’t need to. The bets had been completely off for you for a while now. They had kept your name there at first, had held onto you like a favorite whose odds just kept slipping, but eventually, reality set in. You were old news now. Another cautionary tale. A talent with a question mark hanging over her head.

And now, someone else was in your place.

You stared at the screen, willing yourself to feel something other than this heavy, creeping numbness. You should be angry. Should be heartbroken. Should be something.

But you just felt… gone. Like the piece of you that used to care had been hollowed out somewhere along the way.

A year ago, you had been untouchable. A sure thing. The future. The kind of player people built franchises around. And now? Now, there was a chance there was no draft for you at all.

Because the truth was, you weren’t healing fast enough. You had tried. God, you had tried. You had pushed your body past the point of exhaustion, past the pain, past the doubt. You had done every stretch, every exercise, followed every rehab plan like it was a religion. But the clock was still ticking. And if you didn’t get back soon, if you didn’t prove that you were still the player they had once fought over, then what?

Then no one would draft you.

Then it would all be over before it even began.

Your fingers tightened around your phone, stomach twisting into knots, the weight of it pressing against your chest, against your throat, until you felt like you might choke on it.

And then, suddenly, it was gone.

You blinked, hands grasping at empty air as Paige plucked the phone from your grip, her movements casual but firm, like she had seen this moment coming before you even did.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just held your phone in one hand, looking down at you with those sharp, knowing eyes, the ones that had always seen through you too easily.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, shifting on the bench, trying to sound bored, like your world hadn’t just cracked open a little more. Like you weren’t barely holding it together.

Paige didn’t buy it. Of course she didn’t.

She turned your phone over in her palm, thoughtful, before slipping it into the pocket of her hoodie. “You don’t need to look at that.”

The damage was already done.

Your chest still felt tight, your stomach still sick, your mind still racing down the same dark paths it had been on since the moment you read that notification. Paige could take your phone away, but she couldn’t erase the words from your head, couldn’t make you unsee them, couldn’t stop the way your pulse was pounding in your ears, reminding you over and over of what you had lost.

Paige must have seen something shift in your face because she exhaled, long and slow, before sitting down beside you.

“You’re still in this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now, edged with something softer.

You laughed, but it didn’t sound like you. “Am I?”

She didn’t answer right away, just studied you like she was trying to figure out how far gone you really were, how much of you was still left.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure of the answer.

The locker room was dead silent. Everyone could feel the tension thick in the air, suffocating, pressing against their chests. No one wanted to look at you. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

You sat there, jaw clenched so tight it ached, hands curled into fists on your knees, staring at the floor like if you looked anywhere else, the whole thing would snap you in half.

"You think this is easy for me?" Geno’s voice cut through the silence, sharp, impatient. "You think I enjoy calling you out like this? I don’t. But this attitude you’ve had? It’s not helping you. It’s not helping the team."

You felt your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down. You always swallowed it down.

Geno sighed, dragging a hand over his face before leveling you with that look, the one you’d seen him give so many players before. The one that usually meant tough love, a push in the right direction. The one that used to light a fire in you.

"You know what I’ve told you before," he continued, voice calmer now but still firm. "Half the battle is in the mentality. You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can prove to everyone that you’re still the player they think you are. It’s your choice."

That was it.

That was the moment you broke.

The moment you couldn’t keep it all bottled up anymore.

Because it wasn’t just about your mentality. It wasn’t just about your attitude. It was about how everything had been taken from you in one second, how you had clawed your way through recovery, how you had done everything right and it still wasn’t enough. It was about the way people talked about you now, like you were a what-could-have-been instead of a what-still-could-be. It was about the fact that you didn’t even know who you were anymore without basketball, and no one seemed to understand that.

Your voice shook when you spoke, but the words spilled out anyway, raw and desperate and unfiltered.

"Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t replay that moment every single night, over and over again in my head, trying to figure out how I got here?" You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was bitter, broken. "Do you think I don’t want to be out there? That I don’t want to be the player I was?"

Your eyes were burning now, but you refused to let the tears fall here. Not in front of him. Not in front of them.

"I’ve done everything I was supposed to do," you whispered, voice hoarse, barely holding it together. "And it’s still not enough."

No one said anything.

Not Geno. Not the team.

No one.

So you left.

You grabbed your stuff, shoved past the stunned silence, and walked out before anyone could stop you.

Paige was the only one who followed.

She didn’t call your name. Didn’t try to talk to you. Didn’t try to tell you it was okay, because she knew it wasn’t.

She caught up to you outside the gym, her footsteps quiet but steady, and the moment you turned to look at her, everything you had been holding in—the anger, the grief, the exhaustion—crashed into you all at once.

And without a single word, Paige wrapped her arms around you.

She hugged you tight, like she was holding you together, like she could feel the way you were unraveling, thread by thread. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry. Really cry. Not just a few tears wiped away before anyone could see, but the kind of tears that shook your whole body, that made it hard to breathe, that carried everything you had been too afraid to say.

Paige didn’t let go.

Not when your shoulders trembled. Not when you gripped the back of her hoodie like a lifeline. Not when your sobs turned into ragged, uneven breaths.

And that night, she didn’t leave your side.

She didn’t say much. She didn’t need to.

She just stayed, close enough that you could hear her breathing, close enough that, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel completely alone.

Paige had always seen you as untouchable. As unstoppable.

Seeing you like this? Broken, vulnerable, hurting in a way that even she couldn’t fix?

That broke her, too.

You had always been the one. The kind of player people whispered about before you even stepped onto the court. The kind of talent that didn’t just demand attention but held it, bent the game around you like gravity. Paige had seen it from the first time she played with you, the way you moved, the way you thought the game three steps ahead of everyone else. You were special. And everybody knew it.

That was why, when it happened, it felt like the world had cracked open.

She remembered it too clearly. The sharp sound of your body hitting the floor, the way you clutched your knee, the way your face twisted in pain. She had never seen you like that before. Never seen you down and not bounce right back up.

At first, she thought—hoped—it was just something minor. A bad landing. A scare. You’d get up, you’d shake it off, and everything would go back to normal.

But you didn’t get up.

And when they helped you off the court, when she saw the way you wouldn’t even try to put weight on it, her stomach dropped.

Because she knew.

She knew before the MRI, before the press release, before the hushed conversations about recovery timelines and worst-case scenarios. She knew the second she saw your face.

And that night, when she found you sitting in the locker room long after everyone else had left, staring down at your knee like it wasn’t even yours anymore, she realized something else.

You weren’t just scared of being hurt. You were scared of what came next.

Paige understood that fear. She had lived it. She knew what it was like to sit on the sidelines and feel like the game was leaving you behind, like the thing that made you you was slipping further and further out of reach. She knew how isolating it was, how no amount of support or encouragement could touch the parts of you that ached the most.

But this was you. And in her mind, you had never been touchable, had never been stoppable. The idea of you being anything less than that—it wasn’t something she could wrap her head around.

So she had told herself, You’ll come back. You have to come back.

But months passed, and she watched the way you changed. The way your fire dimmed. The way you started retreating into yourself, isolating, pulling away from the team, from her.

The way your name slowly started disappearing from draft talks.

The way you looked at yourself like you weren’t sure you belonged here anymore.

And now, sitting beside you, holding you as you finally let yourself fall apart, she felt helpless.

Because this wasn’t a game she could win for you.

She could fight for you on the court. She could hit big shots, make big plays, try to keep the team moving forward. But she couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t make your knee heal faster. She couldn’t take away the doubt, the fear, the loss of everything you thought was certain.

She hated that.

She hated that all she could do was hold you, that all she could offer was her presence, her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing against yours.

But if this was all she could do, she would do it.

Because you weren’t alone.

And as long as she was here, as long as she had anything to give, she would make sure you never felt like you were.

It started with an alarm.

A shrill, relentless alarm at 5:30 AM. The kind that made you want to throw your phone across the room.

At first, you thought you had set it by accident. But then you heard the knocking.

No. Not knocking. Pounding.

You groaned, pulling your blanket over your head, willing whoever it was to just disappear.

No such luck.

"Get up," Paige’s voice rang through the door, clear, firm, unmovable.

You shut your eyes tighter. "Go away."

The door opened.

You peeked out from under the blanket just in time to see Paige standing in your doorway, arms crossed, dressed in workout gear like she had been up for hours.

You glared. "Do you not believe in knocking?"

"I knocked," she said, unimpressed. "Then you ignored me. Now get up."

You scoffed, rolling onto your side. "Not happening."

You should have known she wouldn’t just accept that.

Paige walked over, grabbed the edge of your blanket, and ripped it off you in one swift motion. Cold air hit your skin, and you practically yelped, curling into yourself.

"Jesus, Bueckers—"

"You can cuss me out later," she said. "Right now, we’re going to the gym."

You stared at her like she had lost her mind. "Paige, it’s five in the morning."

"Yeah, and you’ve got work to do," she shot back, unfazed. "Season starts in a few months. You wanna be ready or not?"

You hesitated.

Of course you wanted to be ready. Of course you wanted to get back to where you were before, to prove that you weren’t just some washed-up has-been before you even got the chance to be a someone.

But that want—that need—was buried under months of frustration, self-doubt, exhaustion. You had pushed yourself so hard for so long, and it still felt like you were running in place.

And now, here she was, asking you to choose again.

Paige must have seen the hesitation in your face, because her expression softened. She sat down on the edge of your bed, nudging your knee lightly.

"I know you’re tired," she said, quieter now, more serious. "I know this hasn’t been fair. But you’re too good to let this stop you. You know that."

You swallowed, looking away.

She sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. "You’re not doing this alone," she continued. "I’m gonna be here every step of the way. If you have to push yourself, then I’ll push you. If you fall, I’ll catch you. But I’m not letting you give up on this. I won’t."

Something in your chest tightened.

Because she meant it. You could hear it in her voice, in the unwavering steadiness of it.

Paige had always believed in you. Even when you stopped believing in yourself.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough to get you out of bed.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing a hand down your face before finally, finally sitting up.

"Fine," you muttered. "But if I pass out halfway through, it’s on you."

Paige grinned, already victorious. "You’ll live."

And with that, she tossed you your sneakers, stood up, and waited—because she already knew you were going to follow.

The next couple of months were hell.

But not the kind of hell you had been drowning in for the past year. Not the slow-burning, isolating, empty kind of hell where every day bled into the next, where the weight of your own expectations crushed you before you even got out of bed.

No, this was different.

This was the kind of hell that left your muscles aching in the best way, your lungs burning as you pushed through another sprint, your hands gripping your knees as you bent over, gasping for breath, feeling alive again. The kind of hell that reminded you why you had ever loved this game in the first place.

And it was all because of Paige.

She didn’t go easy on you. If anything, she was worse than the trainers. She forced you out of bed before sunrise, dragged you through drills that made you want to collapse, and refused to let you quit.

"You’re too slow," she’d say, breathless, as you tried to keep up with her full-speed cuts. "Use your damn left hand," she’d scold when your layup was just a little too stiff. "Again." That was her favorite. No matter how many times you told her you were done, she’d look at you with that infuriating smirk and make you do it again.

And somehow… somehow, you needed it.

For the first time in forever, you felt like a player again. Like you were clawing your way back to the person you used to be. And with every day that passed, with every extra rep, every bead of sweat rolling down your spine, every time you beat Paige in a shooting drill and got to see the way she rolled her eyes, shoving your shoulder with a muttered, "Whatever, lucky shot,"—you started to believe, just a little, that maybe you still had a chance.

It was exhausting. It was painful. It was the hardest thing you had ever done.

And you had never felt more alive.

But then there was the other problem.

Because somewhere along the way, between the early morning workouts and the late-night film sessions, between the inside jokes and the way she always, always knew exactly what to say to get you out of your own head—something shifted.

You caught yourself watching her too long. Not just as a player, not just as the Paige Bueckers that the world knew. But as her. As the person who had seen you at your absolute lowest and refused to let you stay there.

As the person who had held you when you broke. Who had stayed up with you on the nights where the doubt crept in too deep, the one who knew, before you even said a word, exactly what you needed.

And it scared you.

Because Paige Bueckers wasn’t just some random person. She was your teammate. Your best friend. The person who had dedicated months of her life to making sure you didn’t give up on yourself.

And you couldn’t risk losing that.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way your heart picked up when she brushed against you. The way her hand lingered on your back whenever she guided you off the court. The way she looked at you sometimes, like she was trying to figure something out.

You ignored everything.

Because preseason was coming. And you weren’t where you needed to be yet.

You had made progress—real progress. You were moving better, sharper, stronger than you had in months. But you weren’t there yet. Not fully healed. Not fully you.

But baby steps, right?

You weren’t giving up. Not anymore. And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought you were.

The gym was nearly empty when Paige found you.

Late night, lights dimmed, the faint echo of bouncing balls from the other side of the facility. You had just finished your last set of shooting drills, your knee wrapped tight, sweat dripping down your back, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. It was another long day of almost being back, almost being who you were before.

But almost wasn’t good enough. Not yet.

You heard the door open but didn’t look up. You knew who it was. Paige had a presence, an energy that filled the space before she even said anything.

"You really gotta stop sneaking in extra workouts," she called, footsteps slow as she crossed the court. "What if I tell Geno? He’ll make you sit out of practice for real this time."

You rolled your eyes, bending down to grab your water bottle. "You won’t tell Geno, because that would make you a snitch."

She scoffed. "I think it makes me a responsible teammate."

"You dragged me out of bed at five in the morning for conditioning all summer, but now you wanna be responsible?" You shot her a look. "Little hypocritical, don’t you think?"

Paige grinned, coming to a stop a few feet from you, spinning a ball lazily in her hands. "That’s different."

"How?"

"Because I was supervising. You out here by yourself?" She made a tsk sound, shaking her head dramatically. "Reckless. Careless. Dangerous, even."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Whatever."

Paige took a step closer, that knowing look in her eyes. "You know you don’t have to do this alone, right?"

Your grip tightened around your water bottle. It wasn’t the first time she had said something like that. And every time, it hit the same.

"I know," you muttered.

She studied you for a second, then nodded, spinning the ball again before flipping it toward you. You caught it out of reflex.

"One-on-one," she said casually, stretching her arms overhead. "First to five."

You narrowed your eyes. "You just had practice."

"So?" She smirked. "I still won’t go easy on you."

That shouldn’t have made your stomach flip, but it did.

You licked your lips, tossing the ball between your hands. "I won’t go easy on you, Bueckers."

Her smirk deepened. "Good."

And just like that, the banter faded into the familiar rhythm of competition—the kind where words weren’t needed, where the only thing that mattered was movement, instincts, the game itself.

But even as you tried to focus, as you tried to lock in, you couldn’t ignore the way Paige’s eyes lingered a little too long. The way her hands brushed against your waist when she reached for a steal. The way she grinned every time you scored, even though she hated losing.

The way the tension between you two had started feeling different.

And you weren’t sure what scared you more—losing the game, or what would happen if you stopped ignoring it.

The sun was starting to set as you and Paige walked back from physical therapy, the sky streaked with warm oranges and purples, the air crisp against your skin. Your knee was sore, but in the way it always was after PT—stiff, a little swollen, but manageable. You were used to it by now. What you weren’t used to was the fact that you didn’t hate these sessions anymore.

Not since Paige started showing up.

At first, you thought she was just being nice—checking in on you, keeping you accountable, making sure you weren’t wallowing in self-pity (even though you totally had been). But then, she started coming every time. She sat in the waiting room during your sessions, tapping her foot impatiently like she was the one getting worked on. She cracked dumb jokes when you winced through exercises, flipped through old magazines and read the worst horoscopes out loud just to make you laugh.

She was like your own personal emotional support dog. If emotional support dogs talked a lot.

And the thing was? She made you feel less bad about all of it.

The injury, the rehab, the endless cycle of progress and setbacks. It didn’t feel so heavy when she was there.

Now, as you walked side by side, your duffel slung over one shoulder, Paige stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, gaze flicking toward you before settling on the sidewalk.

"You know, I’ve been here before," she said after a beat, her voice quieter than usual.

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This place," she nodded back toward the therapy clinic, her expression unreadable. "I came here after I tore my ACL. Same time, same days. Same routine."

You blinked. You knew about her injury, obviously—everyone did. But she had never really talked about it. Not like this.

"That was before I got here," she continued, exhaling, her breath visible in the cool evening air. "Before I really got back. And it sucked. So bad." She huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t really funny. "I don’t think people get how… alone it makes you feel. Everyone’s moving forward, the season keeps going, and you’re just stuck in the same place. Trying to convince yourself you’re still the player you were before."

Your stomach twisted at how familiar that sounded.

Paige kicked a loose pebble down the sidewalk. "I didn’t really have anyone who—like, I mean, I had people who cared, but no one who really got it. Not like this. I wanted someone to be there for me the way I’ve been here for you."

You stopped walking. Paige took a few more steps before realizing and turned to face you, her brows furrowing slightly.

"You never told me that," you said, voice softer than you meant it to be.

She shrugged, a little sheepish. "It wasn’t something I talked about much. Didn’t think it mattered."

"It does matter," you insisted.

Paige held your gaze for a second, something flickering behind her eyes. Then, she took a step closer.

"You know what else matters?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "The fact that you were the only person who actually pushed me to get my ass back on the court."

You blinked. "What?"

She smiled, but it wasn’t teasing. It was real.

"You don’t remember?" She shook her head, laughing to herself. "I do. You were a freshman, and you wouldn’t shut up about how I needed to get back out there. You kept saying I was too good to waste it, that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. It pissed me off so bad."

Your eyes widened. You… vaguely remembered that. You remembered standing outside the locker room, Paige still moving stiffly, not fully cleared yet, and you had said something—something blunt, something stubborn, something about how she was going to regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t push through.

"You were annoying as hell," Paige added, smirking. "But you were right. I don’t know if I ever told you that."

You were still trying to wrap your head around it. You had no idea you’d made that much of an impact on her. That you had been the one to push her the way she had been pushing you now.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

Then, finally, you huffed, shaking your head. "So… what you’re saying is, this is revenge?"

Paige snorted. "One hundred percent."

You both laughed, but beneath it, something else settled in your chest. Something warm.

She had been there before. She understood.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant you could come out on the other side of this too.

The doctor barely got the words out before Paige exploded.

"Let’s goooo!" she shouted, jumping up so fast her chair screeched against the floor. She clapped you on the back—hard, like she forgot her own strength—before pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever been in.

You were still processing it. Cleared. Cleared. After nearly a year of waiting, of doubting, of pushing yourself until you couldn’t breathe, you were finally back.

You let out a breathless laugh, gripping the back of Paige’s hoodie as she squeezed you tighter. "You realize I’m the one who just got cleared, right? Why are you more excited than me?"

Paige pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright, that signature smirk tugging at her lips. "Because I knew this would happen," she said like it was obvious. "I told you. You’re too good not to come back. It was only a matter of time."

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling warmer than you should’ve in an air-conditioned office. There was something about the way she was looking at you—like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. Maybe more.

The doctor cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh. "Are you two done celebrating in my office, or do I need to step out and give you a minute?"

You and Paige both whipped around like guilty kids, muttering quick apologies, but the grin never left her face.

And it didn’t leave the rest of the day, either.

She refused to let you go home without celebrating. Took you straight to your favorite restaurant, ordered way too much food, and every time you even thought about checking your phone, she smacked your hand away.

"Tonight is not for film. Or texts. Or stressing," she said between bites of fries. "It’s for you. And me. And this delicious meal I just paid for."

"You literally stole my card to pay," you pointed out.

"Yeah, but I swiped it," she said smugly, sipping her drink. "Which means I paid. Which means you should be grateful."

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped, and you weren’t entirely sure it was from the food.

Because here she was again. Paige Bueckers, making you feel like the most important person in the room.

And that feeling hadn’t gone away.

The first practice back, you were expecting a normal warm welcome. Some pats on the back, maybe a few sarcastic finallys thrown your way.

What you were not expecting was to walk into the locker room and see balloons tied to your chair, a giant cake sitting on the bench, and the entire team yelling, "She’s baaaaaaack!" the second you stepped inside.

You stopped in your tracks, wide-eyed. "What the—"

"Surprise!" Paige called, stepping forward with an exaggerated bow. "Courtesy of your personal hype woman."

You looked at her, then at the cake—white frosting, piped-on basketballs, and the words WELCOME BACK, SUPERSTAR in bright blue icing. You could tell she definitely decorated it herself, because one of the basketballs was slightly misshapen, and the lettering was just a little off-center.

Your chest felt tight, but in a good way. A way you didn’t quite know how to explain.

"You did this?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige shrugged, but her grin was unmistakable. "Figured you deserved it."

The warmth in your chest spread.

"Alright, get over here and eat before I do it for you," she added, shoving a plastic fork into your hand.

The rest of the team dove into the cake, laughter filling the room as people threw icing at each other, teasing you about how they were gonna light your ass up in scrimmages.

And through it all, you kept sneaking glances at Paige.

Because this was the part that was messing with your head.

The way she always knew what you needed before you even said it. The way she was so damn proud of you, like this wasn’t just your win, but hers too. The way she looked at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

And suddenly, you couldn’t keep pretending that your feelings for her were just friendly.

Because they weren’t. Not even close.

The second the buzzer sounded, the roar of the crowd barely had time to register before Paige was on you.

You didn’t even have time to celebrate properly, barely had time to process the fact that you had just played in your first official game back, before she grabbed you—hands firm on your waist, tugging you straight into her.

"You killed it," she practically breathed against your ear, voice thick with something deeper than excitement, something that sent a full-body chill down your spine.

You barely had time to respond before she pulled you closer, her arms locking around your back, holding you like she was afraid to let go. Her heart was pounding against yours, fast and erratic, and you swore she was holding on for longer than a normal post-game hug.

Not that you were complaining.

Your hands hesitated for only a second before finding their way to her back, gripping onto the fabric of her jersey, still warm from the game.

"You act like we just won a championship," you teased, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "We won your first game back," she corrected, like that was the real victory.

And the way she was looking at you—the way her eyes were scanning your face like she wanted to memorize it, the way her fingers were still gripping onto you like she wasn’t ready to let go—made your stomach flip so hard you almost felt dizzy.

It was so obvious.

So obvious in the way she refused to move more than a step away from you during the entire post-game celebration, always lingering close, her hand brushing against yours, her shoulder bumping into you.

So obvious in the way she reached for you again when the cameras swarmed, her arm slung around your shoulders like it belonged there.

So obvious in the way she beamed every time she looked at you, like she was the proudest person in the damn world.

And it should have been overwhelming, should have felt like too much.

But it didn’t.

Because if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to let go either.

The ice cream shop was packed, buzzing with late-night energy—fans still wearing jerseys, kids on sugar highs, groups of students laughing loudly in the corner. The air smelled like waffle cones and melted chocolate, and the whole team was crammed into two booths, talking over each other, hyped from the win.

And through all of it, Paige wouldn’t leave your side.

She had slid into the seat next to you the second you got there, pressing close enough that her knee knocked against yours under the table. And she stayed there, so damn close, even when there was plenty of room to move.

Not that you minded.

She was warm, practically radiating heat against your side. Every time she laughed—really laughed, head tilting back just slightly—her shoulder bumped into yours. Every time she reached for her cup, her fingers brushed against your arm like she forgot how much space she was taking up.

Or maybe she just didn’t care.

"Alright, we’re making a bathroom run," one of your teammates announced, and the rest of them quickly followed, leaving you and Paige alone at the table.

The shop was still loud around you, but suddenly, everything between you two felt quiet.

You tapped your spoon absently against your cup, not looking at her. "You planning on sticking to me like glue all night?"

Paige scoffed, leaning back like she was just now realizing how close she was. But she didn’t move. "Psh. Please. If anything, you’ve been following me."

You raised a brow, finally meeting her gaze. "Oh yeah? That what you’re telling yourself?"

She smirked, like she had been waiting for this exact opening. "Well, you do like me, so."

Your spoon paused midair.

Your brain short-circuited.

She had said it so casually, like it wasn’t the biggest bomb she could have possibly dropped. Like it wasn’t the exact thing you had been trying not to admit to yourself for months.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Blinked. "I—what?"

Paige just grinned, stirring her ice cream like she didn’t just say that. "Relax, it’s not that deep," she teased, but there was something lighter in her voice, something testing.

You swallowed. "So you’re just out here saying stuff?"

She shrugged, still grinning, but you could see the shift—the way she kept glancing at you, like she was trying to gauge your reaction. Like she was actually nervous.

You inhaled slowly. "Paige."

She finally stopped stirring her ice cream, finally let the teasing drop just a little.

"Okay," she said, quieter now, tapping her spoon against her cup. "Maybe it is a little deep."

The air between you shifted.

You could still hear the noise of the shop, the hum of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter from across the room. But none of it mattered. Not when Paige was sitting this close, looking at you like that.

Like she had been waiting.

Like she wasn’t scared of saying it anymore.

Your chest felt tight. "Oh."

Paige let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh? That’s all you got?"

You swallowed again, your heart beating way too fast. "I mean—what do you want me to say?"

"I don’t know," she murmured, voice almost playful but not quite. "Maybe that you like me too?"

Your mouth felt dry.

Because you did.

Of course you did.

It had been obvious for so long, in the way your heart jumped every time she touched you, in the way you gravitated toward her like it was second nature. In the way she made the worst year of your life bearable just by being there.

So, really, what was stopping you?

You let out a breath, then shook your head, smirking just slightly. "You are so full of yourself."

Paige rolled her eyes but leaned in just a little closer. "Am I wrong, though?"

You huffed, pressing your lips together—trying to hold onto the last shred of self-control you had, but it was so hard when she was right there, when she was looking at you like she already knew she was right.

And then—

She reached out, fingers curling around your wrist, lightly, like she was giving you an out.

She didn’t need to.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

And before you could second-guess it, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, like neither of you could believe it was actually happening. Like months of unspoken tension had suddenly snapped all at once.

But then Paige exhaled against your lips, like she had been holding it in for so long, and you felt her smile into the kiss before she kissed you again, deeper this time, her fingers tightening around your wrist, pulling you in.

You felt weightless.

Like everything—the injury, the doubt, the fear—had led to this.

And, for the first time in forever, you weren’t thinking about the past.

You weren’t thinking about the future.

You were just here, with Paige, and nothing had ever felt more right.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconnwbb #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers uconn #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers x y/n #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #ncaa wbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb smut #wbb x reader

270 notes · View notes

hyuckiefluff · 2 days ago

Text

Dr. Dreamy | Part 2

pairing: doctor!na jaemin x fem reader genre: smut wc: 5.1k summary: you’re the best valentine’s day gift jaemin’s ever had the pleasure of unwrapping. content warning: explicit sexual content, some bdsm-ish stuff (bondage), temperature play, breast play, usage of sex toys, multiple orgasms, edging, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), mating press, lmk if i missed any! a/n: couldn’t wait for valentine’s day to post this sooo here it is (granted, over a month late) but i hope it makes up for the wait and satisfies all those who were craving a part two <3 thank you so much for reading and loving the first part. also, if you wanna chat or just see me in my natural habitat, hit me up on ig @/jenokosmo. ps: read part 1 for the plot, this one is purely smut. oh and it feels important to add that juno by sabrina carpenter was on repeat while writing this. “have you tried this one?” picture jaemin saying that lol

part 1

Valentine’s Day had been exhausting for Jaemin. He barely had the energy to even think. The hospital was a madhouse. He’d never expected that so many injuries would come from couples trying something new with their partners. By the time he clocked out, it was already 11 PM, and he couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him for missing your first Valentine’s Day together.

But as soon as he stepped through the door, his thoughts of guilt disappeared. There you were, lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. You were wearing nothing but the skimpiest piece of lingerie he’d ever seen before.

His breath caught in his throat as your gaze fell on him, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Long day?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness.

Jaemin’s throat tightened, but he managed to choke out a response. “Yeah… you could say that.” His voice cracked slightly as his eyes scanned over your body. “You look....”

“Good, I hope?” You giggled softly when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Absolutely,” he said, swallowing hard. “…Are you trying to kill me?”

You smiled and stood up slowly, giving him a full view of your curves. His gaze followed your every movement as you sauntered toward him. You stopped just inches from him, his body stiffening in anticipation. His hands ached to touch you.

“What’s the matter?” you teased, pressing your body against his lightly. “You look like you want something.”

Jaemin bit back a smirk, trying to hold on to his composure. He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “And you look like you're offering something.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him feel lighter, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest, or the tightness between his legs that was only growing. You seemed to notice it too, your hand slipping down his chest. “I think you might be right,” you said with a wink.

Jaemin tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, but his hands betrayed him by wandering to your waist on their own. You flinched slightly from the coldness and he smiled at that.

"You know," he said, with a half-smirk, "I'm not that easy." There was a playful challenge in his eyes. "You have to try harder than this."

“Oh, really?” you grinned, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Well, I think I can manage."

He felt the heat in his body surge just thinking about what you had planned for him. When you turned and began leading him to your room, he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace every curve of your body, lingering on the flimsy string of fabric between your cheeks—just a bow for him to undo.

Jaemin followed you into the bedroom, his mouth going agape at the sight. Candles flickered softly on the bedside tables, and rose petals were scattered across the floor and on the bed. The whole scene looked straight out of a movie, but it was real, and it was for him.

“Wow,” he murmured, genuinely impressed. “Princess, this is amazing. I should’ve done this for you…” His voice dropped, a slight frown forming as he looked at you.

“You can do it next year,” you replied, and the fact that you were already planning another Valentine’s Day with him made his heart swell. You closed the space between you, pulling him down by his neck and kissing along his jaw.

“You must be tired,” you whispered against his skin.

Jaemin's hands roamed over your back, cupping your ass making you gasp at the sudden touch. When your lips parted, he took the opportunity to kiss you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you’d been eating.

“Not anymore,” he whispered, lifting you up by your hips, your legs locked around his waist. He carried you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with need.

You pulled away, and for a moment he thought you would kiss him again. Instead, you gently pushed him down onto the bed and guided him to lie back. His chest rose and fell with anticipation, lips parted as you climbed over him and settled on top. He stayed still, pretending to be unaffected, but you noticed the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

"I want to try something new," you said, your voice laced with playful daring.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do I get a say in this?”

You paused for a moment before tugging his shirt up and over his head, letting your fingers graze his skin as you did. Your gaze roamed over him slowly, as if committing every inch to memory. His broad shoulders, abs that tensed whenever he took a breath, the faint happy trail he’d stopped shaving just because you said you liked it, the love bites still lingering on his chest from the other night.

Reaching for his hand, you guided it to the delicate bow at the center of your bra, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Go on,” you murmured, “unwrap your present.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, smirking. He tugged on the bow and the bra fell open, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help the soft, reverent exhale that escaped him. “Fuck…” he groaned, his hands reaching to touch you, but you stopped him with a soft but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, leaning in to kiss the frown from his face. “Let me take care of you first.”

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest, but then you were gone. He saw you searching in the drawer, and when you returned to the bed, you had something hidden behind your back. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“Do you trust me, Jaem?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Of course.”

Then, you pulled out a blindfold, and he froze, anticipation and excitement flooding his system in equal parts “What are you planning, love?” he asked, his tone soft but amused.

“Something you’ll really like,” you whispered, placing a kiss below his ear.

Jaemin chuckled nervously, shivering slightly. “Should I be worried?”

You only smiled, slipping the blindfold over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his world went dark. His other senses immediately heightened and he tensed when he felt you reach for his wrists.

The soft touch of silk against his skin made him flinch. “Wait—what are you—” His breath hitched as you wrapped the restraints carefully around him.

His fingers twitched, an instinctive urge to move, but the fabric held him firm. He gave a small, experimental tug, testing the hold, and a shiver ran through him when he realized he couldn’t easily free himself. There was something almost dizzying about being kept like this, unable to touch you, forced to wait. The helplessness only made his excitement burn hotter.

“Wow,” he mused, voice light but strained, “Are we into bondage now?”

Despite his attempt at humor, you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell a little faster when you gave the restraints a small tug.

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost against his ear. “I want to see if you can last…” you whispered, your breath sending another shiver down his spine.

Jaemin swallowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What do you mean…” he asked, careful now, as if realizing he’d just walked into a trap.

You didn’t answer right away, and the silence only deepened the anticipation clawing at him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to act unaffected, but the combination of the blindfold, the restraints, and the sheer uncertainty of what you’d do next made it impossible to be calm.

And then…cold.

A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the ice cube slid across his chest, its sudden chill stealing the breath from his lungs. His entire body stiffened, muscles flexing against the cold shock.

“God—fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. He yanked at the restraints, desperate to get away from the bite of the ice but craving more of your touch at the same time. “You really like torturing me, huh?”

You laughed softly, a wicked note in your voice. “Torture? No…” you murmured, trailing the ice lower, just skimming the waistband of his pants. “I just want to see how far you’ll let me go to make sure you feel really good.”

Jaemin let out a strained breath, his fingers flexing against the restraints. He was still trying to hold onto some shred of composure, but his body was betraying him. He felt himself grow harder in his pants and he wanted to beg for you to release him but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break down so easily.

“Tell me, Jaem… have you ever touched yourself on a particularly chilly night?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing.

“What—…” His breath hitched when you slid the ice cube lower, past his hip bones. “I… I don’t know… I suppose so,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Did your cold fingers feel nice?” you continued, drawing the ice in slow circles on his skin. “Did you like it?”

Jaemin was trying to focus on your words, but the heightened sensation of the cold against his burning skin was making it impossible to think. The contrast was overwhelming, making his hips jerk involuntarily.

“I—fuck… I guess so,” he breathed.

Without warning, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen and startling both of you.

“You seem excited,” you said, letting your finger graze the side of his shaft. His breath stuttered as he tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

The next thing he felt was cold sliding over his tip.

“Shit—” he gasped, his whole body jerking as he tried to sit up, hunching over in a desperate attempt to regain some control. His bound wrists strained against the silk restraints, but they gave him no leeway. And then you did it again, this time, dragging the ice along the side of his cock, the sensation both shocking and exquisite.

“Fuck… th-that feels weird…” he shivered slightly.

His lips were red and wet from how he kept biting them, trying not to moan too loudly.

You leaned in, kitten-licking the tip while still holding the ice against him.

“Wait—” he moaned, his hips bucking up instinctively.

With one last teasing kiss to his tip, you pulled back, watching the way he twitched, the way his body practically vibrated with pent-up need.

“Looks like you’re ready to play.”

Jaemin exhaled shakily. The way you were handling him was so different to what he was used to. He was always the one setting the pace, pulling pleasure from you at his leisure. But now, you had him completely at your mercy. And the craziest part was how much he was enjoying it.

He heard more movement, some shuffling and the quiet creak of the mattress as you settled back in front of him. His muscles tensed in anticipation, his whole body straining against the restraints. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you down and take what he needed but all he could do was wait.

“Jaem, do you know what a cock ring is?” you asked, your voice so soft and innocent that for a second, he thought he must’ve misheard you.

“Hm?” His brain was lagging, too focused on the lingering cold of the ice cube melting against him. Then your words sank in. “Yeah,” he swallowed.

“Good,” you hummed, and before he could react, he felt your warm hand wrap around him, pumping once, just enough to make his hips twitch, to make a moan escape his throat before he could swallow it down.

And then something hard pressed against his dick.

“Fuck—” he hissed, his body tensing as you carefully slid the cock ring into place. His sensitivity was already heightened, and the combination of your touch and the unfamiliar tightness made him shudder.

“I want you to hold on as much as you can,” you murmured, trailing your fingers up his stomach, nails lightly scratching at his skin. “Can you do that for me?”

Jaemin groaned, tugging at the restraints in frustration. “You’re so fucking unfair.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jaemin’s breath came in sharp, uneven pants as you pulled away, leaving him aching for more. His head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice shaky. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they were bound, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping nothing. “You’re really trying to kill me…”

You only smiled, still running your nails lightly down his torso, making his abs twitch. “You’re being so dramatic, Jaem.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes still blindfolded, but his frustration was written all over his face. “Dramatic?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Princess, I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and you’re just—” He groaned, pulling against the restraints again. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”

You hummed as if considering his words, then leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his navel. “But it looks like you’re enjoying it.”

Jaemin’s hips twitched, but he still managed a weak scoff. “I’d enjoy it more if you actually fucking did something.” His voice was strained, cracking at the edges.

You let your hand drift lower again, wrapping around him with a slowness that had him sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this what you want?” you murmured, your fingers squeezing just enough to make him twitch in your grasp.

“Fuck—yes, that’s what I fucking want—”

You gave a single stroke, dragging your hand up his length at an agonizing pace.

Jaemin let out a throaty whimper, and the sound only intensified the heat pooling in your lower belly.

His chest heaved as his thighs trembled. His whole body jerked, but the cock ring kept him from reaching the release he desperately chased.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, his voice practically a whine. “Princess, please, I need—”

You tightened your grip slightly, cutting him off with another slow, teasing stroke. His hips bucked into your hand, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fucking enough, and the frustration in his voice was turning into something dangerously close to begging.

“Please what, Jaemin?” you asked, tilting your head.

His lip was pulled between his teeth so hard it was turning red, his whole body trembling from restraint. “Please, just—fuck, I don’t even know—just something, please, princess, I can’t—”

His voice cracked again, revealing his desperation in every syllable. He was completely wrecked, yet still nowhere near getting what he wanted.

And that was exactly how you wanted him.

When your mouth dropped down on his dick again, you took in more than just the tip this time. You sucked and licked him just the way you knew he liked.

“God… oh god,” he groaned, his hips jerking up instinctively, but you kept him firmly in place, pressing down on his thighs.

“Be good,” you murmured against his swollen tip, lips brushing the heat of him. “Or I’ll stop.”

Jaemin let out a shaky breath, his fingers twitching at his sides, unable to do anything but take what you were giving him. “Fuck… you’re so—” His voice broke into a strangled gasp as you sank back down, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length.

He was losing control. His thighs trembled under your touch, ragged gasps escaping his lips. His body was already screaming for release, but the cock ring kept him stuck on that unbearable edge, holding him in a storm of pure, agonizing pleasure.

“I can’t… anymore… please.” His voice was strained, broken apart by breathless moans. “Please, take it off.”

You pulled back just enough to let your breath fan over his tip. “Take what off, Jaem?”

“Everything,” he choked out. “Let me touch you… let me see you… let me fuck you…please.”

The little laugh you let out made his stomach tighten painfully. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve held out longer just to make you work for it. But he was past the point of caring about winning right now.

“Well…” You let your hands caress down his thighs, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”

The first thing to come off was the blindfold. Jaemin blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted, the dim light in the room almost blinding after what felt like hours in the dark. His gaze flickered over your form, hovering over him like a lioness about to pounce. Fuck, he forgot you were braless. His hands twitched against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

Then his eyes dropped lower. His dick was painfully swollen, red at the tip, the cock ring still keeping him from the relief he needed. His breath caught as you reached down, fingers brushing his base before you finally removed it. The rush of sensation that followed had his whole body tensing, his abs clenching as he gasped through the sudden overwhelming relief. He was seconds away from—

You moved to undo the silk restraints, and the moment his wrists were free, he lunged.

You let out a sharp squeal as he grabbed your arm and yanked you down, pressing your body flush against his chest. In one quick movement, he flipped you onto your back, looming over you with a wicked, predatory grin.

“Shouldn’t have fucking released me, princess,” he growled, voice still rough from moaning. He licked his lips, eyes raking down your body like he was deciding where to ruin you first. “You’re gonna take everything I give you now.”

There was no fear in your gaze—only pure, smoldering desire.

Jaemin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring you, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands finally claimed your body. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing, teasing, all while his hips rolled against your barely clothed core.

Then, he flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped, feeling his body press against your back, his lips tracing a heated path from your shoulder to the nape of your neck.

“Wanted to do this since I walked through that door,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear, undoing the tiny bow with a slow pull. His eyes went dark with greed and desire when he saw it fall apart and expose your bare backside to him.

He kissed along your spine, then rocked his hips against your ass with a shuddering sigh before flipping you over again.

You were already breathless, your mind hazy, and he still hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most.

But then, just when you thought he was going to finally take you—he suddenly grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed, shifting you so you were face-to-face with his abs.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, until you felt his dick sliding between your breasts.

“Gonna let me fuck your tits, princess?” he murmured, voice husky.

Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, and without hesitation, you pressed your hands against the sides of your chest, squeezing your breasts together, trapping him between them.

Jaemin groaned, the sound deep and raw, before spitting onto your chest to lubricate the area.

You gasped softly, the sheer filth of it making your thighs squeeze together, but Jaemin was also too far gone to tease you about it. He let out a low, guttural fuck as he thrust, slow at first, watching himself slide between the plushness of your breasts.

“Shit…” His breathing was heavy, his fringe damp with sweat, his jaw slack as he fucked into the tight heat of your chest. “Letting me fuck your perfect tits—fuck.”

The sounds filling the room were obscene. The wet slide of his dick against your skin, the breathy moans slipping from his lips, the quiet, desperate whimpers coming from you.

Your legs clenched again, seeking friction, your own arousal dripping down your thighs.

Jaemin’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts grew uneven, more desperate. “I’m—fuck, I’m close—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up.

“Open for me, princess.”

You parted your lips instinctively, watching through hazy, lidded eyes as he pumped himself, working himself closer and closer—until the first warm spurts landed across your chest and tongue. His thumb swiped through the mess on your chest, and before you could even react, he brought it to your lips.

“Taste.” His voice was hoarse.

Your tongue flicked out to catch it. His breath stuttered as he watched you.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing against your tongue just a second longer before pulling away. His cock twitched against your stomach, already getting hard again.

You let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together, the ache between your legs only growing sharper.

Jaemin caught the movement immediately.

“Oh?” He smirked, eyes flicking down to where you were shamelessly pressing your legs together for any friction. “You want more?”

You whined, squirming.

He hummed, as if amused. “Poor thing.”

“Jaem…” Your voice came out as a whimper, breathless, desperate.

His smirk deepened. He loved seeing you this way—helpless, needy, falling apart before he even touched you properly.

But he wasn’t going to make it easy.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His hand ghosted over your stomach before slipping between your legs, fingertips grazing your soaked folds. “You need help?”

You bucked your hips, but he barely applied any pressure, making you whimper in protest.

You let out a frustrated sob, moving to take over yourself, but his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.

“Ah, ah! We can’t have that,” he tsked, eyes flashing dark.

The next thing you know, your hand is being replaced with his own, two fingers sliding through your folds. Your entire body jolted at the contact.

Jaemin groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your swollen clit. “You like having my cock between those pretty tits that much?”

You barely managed a nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“Such a messy little thing,” he teased, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over your clit, just enough to make you desperate, but not enough to give you what you needed. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”

“Jaemin—”

His fingers pushed in, stretching you, filling you just enough to make you gasp.

“Holy fuck,” Jaemin groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His cock was already leaking against your thigh, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “You’re so tight. You’re gonna fucking choke my fingers.”

He pumped his fingers in and out, slow but deep, so deep you were writhing beneath him.

“Jaem, please—” Your walls clenched, thighs trembling.

“Hm?” He purred. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your eyes were glassy, your body begging for it. “Please, just fuck me.”

Jaemin let out a sharp exhale, visibly shaking as he tried to hold himself back.

“You—” His voice broke. He looked down, seeing how you were practically dripping down his fingers, and groaned, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

His fingers slipped out with a wet, filthy sound. Before you could even whine, he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance.

Your breath caught.

But he didn’t push in.

He just teased, rubbing himself between your folds, coating himself in your slick. He watched with dark, hooded eyes as you twitched beneath him, whimpering at every brush of his cock against your swollen clit.

“You want it?” His voice dripped with sin.

“Jaem—”

“Beg for it.”

The jerk was using your own tricks against you.

Now, you were regretting edging him earlier, because this… this felt like hell.

You whined, your nails digging into his arms. “Please, Jaem. Please. I need you. I need your cock inside me, I—fuck—I can’t—”

That was enough for him. With a wrecked groan, he slammed inside you in one stroke, bottoming out so deep you saw white.

A choked cry left your lips, your entire body arching off the mattress.

“Oh my fucking god—” Jaemin’s voice broke, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you were sure it would bruise.

He was shaking, breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside you as he tried not to cum right then and there. You were so tight, so wet, so warm. He felt like he was going insane.

“You—” His voice was strained, wrecked. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”

His thrusts punched the breath out of you, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

“Holy shit—fuck—” Jaemin groaned, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. “You’re so tight—I can feel you fucking squeezing me—”

You couldn’t even form words, just moaned and whimpered, nails raking down his back.

Jaemin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up and folding you beneath him.

The angle —oh god—the angle had his cock hitting so deep it left you shaking, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“There we go,” Jaemin groaned, watching you writhe under him. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

“Jae—Jaemin—”

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re taking me so well, princess. So, so well.”

His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. The pleasure crashing over you all at once.

“Cum for me, baby,” Jaemin rasped, barely holding himself together. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense your vision blurred, your entire body shaking under him as you cried out his name.

Jaemin groaned, feeling you clench around him. His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, moaning against your throat as he came again, filling you completely.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and shaking limbs.

Jaemin finally lifted his head, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes dark.

He smirked a cat-like smile.

“I hope you don't think we’re done.”

He was still inside you, his cock twitching, throbbing, still semi-hard despite just coming deep inside you. He could feel you clenching weakly around him.

You didn’t want it to be done.

You felt empty, even with his cock still buried inside you. You needed more, needed all of him, needed him to ruin you completely.

And he could tell.

Jaemin tilted his head as his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him. His thumbs traced slow circles into your skin both soothing and possessive, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Think you can handle more?” The low rumble of his voice had you feeling dizzy.

You nodded, too fucked out to form anything coherent.

He hummed, pretending to consider. “Now that I think about it… you were pretty mean to me earlier.” His hands slid lower, gripping your ass and giving it a sharp squeeze that made you jolt. “Do you even deserve it?”

“Yes—yes, please, Jaem—”

He laughed, a breathy chuckle that broke apart into something rougher, needier.

“Insatiable little thing.”

And then he was pulling out achingly slow, dragging every inch of himself through your trembling walls. The friction sent a helpless whimper tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin nearly lost his mind at the sound.

He stared down at you, his ruined, pretty girl. Face flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, lips swollen and parted, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

He growled, gripping your waist and flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement.

You gasped, heart pounding as Jaemin manhandled you effortlessly, positioning you exactly how he wanted with your chest pressed to the mattress and ass high in the air.

He moaned, running his hands down your spine, over the curve of your hips, before gripping your ass and spreading you open for him.

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way your slick dripped down your thighs, his own cum still leaking from your core.

His cock throbbed painfully at the sight.

“Fuck, baby, I made such a mess of you.”

You whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, trying to tempt him. But Jaemin only smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you squirm.

“What do you want, princess?” His voice was low, smug.

You whined, pressing your face into the pillow, trying to grind back against him.

“Jaem—please—”

He tutted, gripping your hips to hold you still. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Then, he slid inside you again, slowly making you feel every inch. You cried out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

Jaemin groaned, rolling his hips slow but deep. His cock pressing against a spot that made black spots appear in your vision.

“Oh, my god—”

“That’s it,” he praised, gripping your waist tighter. Watching the way your back arched, how you clenched around him so perfectly.

He was so deep like this, hitting angles that had you completely unraveling beneath him.

“God, you’re perfect for me,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you choke on your breath.

His hands traveled down, reaching for your arms, and before you could even react, he pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest. One hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping your throat lightly.

Your moan was sinful, body trembling as Jaemin fucked up into you, the new position letting him bury himself impossibly deep.

“Shit—” Jaemin choked out, pressing his lips to your sweaty temple.

His free hand slid down your stomach, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing torturous circles in time with his thrusts.

You gasped sharply, hands grabbing at his wrists.

“Too much?” He teased, his voice taunting, but the way he was shaking against you, the way his thrusts were growing sloppier, told you he was just as close as you were.

You could only moan, pleasure overwhelming you, his cock dragging against that perfect spot over and over, his fingers pushing you closer—

“Cum for me again, princess.” He said, lips pressed to your jaw, groaning with every thrust. “I want to feel you squeeze me.”

And just like that another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down on him so tight he nearly screamed.

Jaemin cursed, feeling you pulsing around him, dragging him straight into his own orgasm.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” His body convulsed, hips stuttering as he filled you up once more, letting go with a strangled moan against your throat.

Jaemin finally collapsed, pulling you down with him. He wrapped himself around you, pressing lazy kisses to your bare shoulder.

His arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“God,” Jaemin exhaled, still breathless, lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I might have broken you, princess.”

divider creds toastray

my inbox is always open for any comments/feedback about the fic <3

#jaemin fanfic #jaemin fic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct dream fic #nct dream smut #nct imagines #jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin x y/n #nct fanfic

323 notes · View notes

rising-starrr · 20 hours ago

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐲ō𝐦𝐞𝐧 - 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é !

warnings : Sukuna has never celebrated Valentine’s Day at all, he spoils you, you two end off the night with sex, jealousy - a servant tries giving you chocolate, killing, true-form! Sukuna, he has two cocks, and can spawn tongues anywhere, he overstimulates you, pet names - princess, ‘pet’, he calls you wife even though y’all aren’t even married yet. Mating press, breeding, DP, P in V, public sex, and more that will come up. afab!reader implied, female pronouns, poc!reader.

(a’s note ! - there’s porn links hidden in here, hope you find them ! y’all gonna be reading books at night so ima say this now, y’all got light, idk how but yall got light.)

𐙚 It was February 14th. Which meant it was Valentine's Day, so you decided to decorate one of the many rooms throughout the household that Sukuna said you could use whenever you were mad at him.

you knew he wouldn't really care for this type of stuff since he always said it was ‘foolish mortal stuff’ but then again he did celebrate everything with you if you asked nicely, or threatened him. Only he knows when he wants to be nice to you.

“wife. what are you doing?” you hear sukuna say from behind you, you don’t jump or anything you’ve gotten used to him appearing out of nowhere. “I’m decorating Ryõmen, what does it look like?” You question.

Ryōmen remembers when you two were being so affectionate, he love when you two are getting it on and that’s always what causes him to zone out when he’s looking at your sweet ass. “What? Don’t get smart with me brat.”

He simply rolls his eyes and walks over towards you. “we’re going out tonight. Be ready in an hour.” He says, not allowing you to respond before he leaves back out.

𐙚 You got ready in that hour he gave you, wearing a dress he had recently brought you. “Ryōmen. What do you think?” You question, spinning in a circle as you approach him. He just gave you a small nod, before fixing his tie and turning to you, he thought you looked beautiful.

He planned to take you to a restaurant, and afterwards he was going to take you to the beach, of course at a time when no one else was there that way he can be alone with you, though of course he would never act on it without you consenting.

He would hope you wouldn’t be a brat tonight, that way he doesn’t have to gag you like usual during your little acts. “Ryōmen! I’ve been calling your damn name for ten minutes, are we leaving or not?” You question, finally seeing him snap out of whatever daze he was in. He just nods, and grabs your hand, taking you outside to the car.

One of the driver’s opens the door for you and him, and allows you two to get in the car, before going back to the driver’s side and driving off to the restaurant. Once the car stops, Sukuna puts a blindfold over your eyes and leads you inside the restaurant. He sits you down before taking off the blindfold.

It was a neatly decorated Valentine’s Day themed booth, that he personally decorated just for you, he wanted everything to be perfect just for you. “Do you like it wife?” He questioned, sitting down as he puts the present he brought you on the table and pushed it towards you.

You nod and begin to open the present, pausing before you continue to ask for confirmation to open. He gives you a small nod, gesturing you to open it for him. you listen and begin to open the present. It was a camera, a promise ring, a new bathing suit, an anklet with his initials and yours, a necklace with his initials, and earrings.

“Oh! This is quite a lot, but thank you Ryōmen, I love you so much.” You murmured, storing it in the bag he brought with the two of you. He just grunts and orders the two of you food, allowing you to get whatever you want.

𐙚 After you two ate, he took you to a nearby beach. Now you see what he brought you a new bathing suit for. you take the bathing suit and go change, it wasn't as windy as it normally was tonight.

When you finally came out the bathroom, he had set up multiple towels so you two would be comfortable. He was currently sitting down on the towels, his head resting on his arm as he read the book he brought along.

He looks up, seeing you finally came out the bathroom, he moves the book, and pats the spot next to him, signaling for you to sit down. you sit down next to him and hum.

“took you long enough brat, now you wanna go get in the water with me or you wanna stay here?” he questioned, waiting for your answer before getting up, all you did was stay seated as a single you wanted to stay at the towels. “Let’s stay here.” You say, laying on your stomach as you began to read a book.

He felt horny just looking at your backside. He hums and grabs you and forces you onto your hands and needs. “Can I?” He questions, waiting for your nod of approval. And you give him the nod of approval.

He grins and pulls down your underwear, and pushes down his boxers and swim shorts. He does a few lazy strokes before positioning himself at your entrance.

You let out a moan, allowing him to push himself inside of you as you two fucked in a public space. Luckily no one was around. His hands gripped your hips, trying to angle himself deeper inside of you as just you just hoped your arms wouldn’t give out or your legs in this moment.

“Feeling good?” He questioned, as he bent down and covering your neck in kisses. You just let out a moan mixed with a shudder. Of course you felt good, he was fucking you so nicely on the beach, you didn’t have a care in the world if you two got caught.

He just kept thrusting until you came on his cocks, eventually cumming right after you did. He picks you up, wraps a towel around you and puts you in the car as he grabs the rest of you guys' stuff and goes to the car.

He mumbles an I love you to you, and allows you to fall asleep on his lap until you get home. Once you two get home, he washes you up and lays you in bed. “Happy Valentine's Day, my wife.”

He lovesssss when your small body is taking his big cock.

Sukuna might have to put a baby in you after all.

You were needy while in the car so he fucked you while you two were being driven back to the mansion.

EDIT: pretend this was posted on Valentine’s Day at 12am !!

#jjk #jjk smut #p links #twitter links #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x black reader #valentines day #poc reader

175 notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 3 days ago

Note

first of all, i want to say that i love love love your fics so much they're so cute and you write Spencer so well omg 😭😭😭

could i request girlfriend reader and spencer where he just got out of prison and they reunite and stuff and they just want to be close to eachother because theyve never spent that much time apart??

(preferably very fluffy and cute?)

reunited — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n ) content warnings: a bit of angst a/n: THANK YOU SM !!! <33 means alot to me <3 hope this is what you asked for !!

The moment Spencer stepped through the doors, your heart felt like it was going to burst. You had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours until he was free again. Until he was back in your arms. And now, here he was—alive, real, and standing right in front of you.

His eyes found yours almost immediately, and the way they lit up made your chest ache. The man who had been your anchor, your safe place, your everything.

And now, after weeks of being apart, he was finally here.

You didn’t even realize you were moving until you were running toward him, your feet carrying you faster than your thoughts could catch up. He met you halfway, his long arms wrapping around you before you could even say a word. The force of his embrace nearly knocked the air out of you, but you didn’t care. You clung to him just as tightly, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the way his hands trembled as they held you. “I missed you so much.”

When you finally pulled back, you didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face until Spencer gently brushed them away. His touch was soft as his fingertips traced the paths of your tears.

For a moment, he just looked at you, as if he were memorizing every detail of your face, as if he needed to remind himself that you were real, that this was real.

And then, without a word, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you even tighter than before. His face buried into your shoulder, and you could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his body seemed to sag against yours, as if he’d been holding himself together for weeks and only now, with you, could he finally let go.

An hour later, you were home, and Spencer still hadn’t left your side. He had changed out of his clothes, and you were pretty sure that was the only time he hadn’t been touching you in some way. But even then, he had kept his eyes on you, as if afraid you might vanish if he looked away for too long.

Now, sitting on the couch, he had practically pulled you on top of him, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he couldn’t bear even the slightest distance between you.

Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. One of his hands was tangled in your hair, gently playing with the strands, while the other traced slow, soothing circles on your back.

“I missed this,” Spencer said quietly, his voice soft but filled with emotion. “I missed you. I missed the way you feel in my arms, the way you smell, the way you make everything feel… okay.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his words. His eyes were still a little red.

“I missed you too,” you said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Every single day.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the feeling of your hand against his skin.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” he said quietly. “Not like that. Not ever.”

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to be,” you said softly. “You’re stuck with me, Spencer Reid. For as long as you’ll have me.”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Forever, then,” he murmured against your skin.

You sighed contentedly, settling back against his chest. His arms tightened around you.The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours.

Even the next morning, Spencer’s need to stay close to you hadn’t faded.

When you woke up early, you had to practically untangle yourself from his grip, his arms still wrapped tightly around you even in his sleep. You smiled softly as you carefully slipped out of bed, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead.

He looked so peaceful, his face relaxed in a way it hadn’t been in weeks. He deserved to rest, and you weren’t about to wake him.

You padded quietly into the kitchen, the early morning light streaming through the windows. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a genuine smile on your face as you moved around the kitchen.

You hummed softly to yourself as you started making breakfast, the familiar routine feeling almost new again now that Spencer was home. The smell of coffee brewing and eggs sizzling filled the air.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear him come up behind you.

Suddenly, you felt his arms slide around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest. You let out a small, surprised laugh as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“You’re up early,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. His breath tickled your neck, and you could feel the way he nuzzled closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be even a step away from you.

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” you said, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. His lips lingered there for a moment, and you could feel the way he sighed, his body relaxing against yours.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured, his hands tightening slightly around your waist. “I would’ve been happy with just… this.”

You smiled, turning your head to catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes were still half-closed, his hair adorably messy from sleep, and the sight made your heart swell. “I know,” you said softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. “But I wanted to. You deserve something nice after… everything.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away, instead he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, his arms holding you just a little tighter. “You’re too good to me,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something like awe. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You turned in his arms, your hands coming up to cradle his face. His eyes were soft, filled with love and gratitude. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve me, Spencer,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. And then, without a word, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to make up for all the time you’d spent apart.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you said softly, brushing your hands through his hair. “Now, how about we eat before the food gets cold?”

He smiled as he pulled back, and nodded. But instead of letting you go, he kept one arm around your waist as he reached for the plates, refusing to let you get too far.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

A couple days later, Spencer had a spontaneous yet nostalgic idea.

It was well past midnight when Spencer suddenly sat up in bed, his eyes wide and alert as if he’d just had the best idea of his life. You blinked up at him, still half-asleep, as he turned to you with a boyish grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said, his voice low but filled with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, squinting at him in the dim light of the room. “A drive? Right now? Spencer, it’s like… 2 a.m.”

“Exactly,” he said, as if that explained everything. “No traffic, no people, just us. Come on, it’ll be like old times.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm in his voice. Midnight drives had been your thing before everything happened—spontaneous adventures where the two of you would just drive aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing, the world feeling like it belonged only to you.

The thought of doing it again, of reclaiming that little piece of your life together, made your chest warm.

“Okay,” you said, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “But you’re driving. I’m too sleepy to be responsible.”

Spencer’s grin widened, and he practically bounced out of bed, pulling you up with him. He didn’t let go of your hand as he grabbed his keys and led you to the door, his excitement contagious. You couldn’t help but laugh as he practically dragged you to the car.

Once you were both in the car, Spencer reached over to adjust the seat for you, his hand brushing against your leg as he did. He didn’t pull away immediately, his fingers lingering for a moment as if he needed the contact. You smiled, placing your hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

The streets were quiet, the city bathed in the soft glow of streetlights as Spencer drove with no particular destination in mind. Spencer’s hand found yours again, his fingers intertwining with yours as he rested your joined hands on the center console.

“This is nice,” he said after a while, his voice soft. “I missed this. Just… being with you, no pressure, no worries. Just us.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “I missed it too. I missed you.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “I know I keep saying it, but… I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

You shook your head, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Stop apologizing,” you said firmly. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Let’s just enjoy this, okay?”

Spencer nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Okay,” he said, his voice warm. “But just so you know, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long, long time.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

The two of you drove for what felt like hours, the city slowly giving way to quieter roads and open skies. At one point, Spencer pulled over at a lookout point, the stars stretching endlessly above you. He turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, his hand still holding yours.

“Remember the first time we did this?” he asked, his voice soft. “You were so nervous. You kept asking if I was sure I knew how to drive.”

You groaned, covering your face with your free hand. “I was not nervous! I was just… cautiously optimistic.”

Spencer laughed, the sound warm and rich. “You were nervous,” he teased. “But it was cute. And look at you now—completely at ease with my driving skills.”

“Don’t push it,” you said, poking his side. “I’m still cautiously optimistic.”

He grinned, pulling you closer so he could press a kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache.

“I love you too,” you said, leaning into him. “Now, let’s go home before I fall asleep in your car.”

Spencer chuckled, starting the engine again. “Your wish is my command.”

The drive back home was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Spencer’s hand never left yours, his thumb absently tracing circles on the back of your hand as he drove.

Every now and then, he’d glance over at you, a small, content smile playing on his lips, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were really there beside him.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, Spencer turned off the engine but made no move to get out of the car. I

nstead, he sat there for a moment, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he stared out at the entrance of the apartment.

“Hey,” you said softly, turning to face him. “You okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared out at the dark windshield, his fingers tightening around yours.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low.

“There were days when it felt like the walls were closing in,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on some distant point. “Like I was never going to get out of there. I just… I don’t think I could’ve made it through everything without knowing I had you to come back to.”

Your heart ached at his words, a sharp, almost physical pain that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak without your voice breaking, so you just nodded, your hand squeezing his a little tighter.

Your other hand reached up to brush a stray curl away from his forehead, your touch gentle, reassuring. You wanted him to feel how much he meant to you, how much you’d missed him, how much you’d fought to hold onto the hope of this moment.

Spencer leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his gaze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice warm. “For waiting for me. For believing in me.”

You smiled, though your eyes were stinging with tears. “Always,” you said simply, because it was the truth.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Let’s go inside,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “I just… I want to be close to you.”

You nodded, your smile widening as you squeezed his hand. “Lead the way.”

Once inside, Spencer didn’t let go of you. He followed you into the kitchen as you grabbed a glass of water, his hand resting on the small of your back. When you moved to the living room, he was right there with you, his arm draped over your shoulders as you sat down on the couch. And when you finally settled in, leaning against his side with your head on his chest, he let out a content sigh, his fingers gently playing with your hair.

“This is nice,” he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy. “Just… being here with you. I missed this.”

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed it too,” you said, your hand resting on his chest. “But we’ve got all the time in the world to make up for it now.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small smile, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “We do.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

248 notes · View notes

demonic0angel · 2 days ago

Note

Can we see some Dani teaching Secret how to do ghost stuff?

(I WAS THINKING OF THIS OMG ARE YOU READING MY MIND?!??)

Spirit stared at her. “You’re still going around. Still going around. Ooh, you’re still going around. Still—”

Secret gave a cry of frustration. “I can’t do it!”

She was in front of a glass window pane. Her task was to phase through using intangibility, but her first instinct always seemed to be to go around the window by squeezing herself through the small cracks available to her.

Secret threw her hands in the air, nearly reduced to tears.

“You totally can!” Spirit said, reaching over to give her hand a small pat. “C’mon! Just focus! You have to imagine yourself going intangible! You’re already phasing in and out of this dimension most times, now you just have to focus it and go through the window! Not around!”

Secret glared at the window and then down at herself, where her legs had turned into billowing smoke from her own frustration and upset. She was quiet for a moment, silent and brooding.

Spirit stared at her some more and then finally moved away from where she had been keeping watch to approach her. With a puff of breath, Dani phased through the glass and then appeared in front of Secret with a grin. She threw out her hands, making them jazz before going, “Boo!”

Secret pouted at her.

Spirit continued grinning until Secret finally cracked a smile.

Spirit beamed at her finally breaking her moodiness and then flew to curl around her, half transforming her lower legs to be a tail to wrap around her. She hugged her and they just squeezed each other. Secret’s grip was especially tight.

“… I don’t think I can do it. I can’t control my powers like you can,” Secret mumbled. “I’ll always be a lab freak.”

“No way! Don’t think of yourself like that,” Spirit scolded. “I’m here to train you, remember? The whole point of me meeting everyone and joining the Justice League was to train you.”

Secret sniffled, her eyes teary. “I’m not worth it.”

Spirit grabbed her face, squishing her cheeks around with a stern glare.

“Don’t say that. It’ll be okay, Secret. You’re more powerful than I am, I’m just more well-trained. You’re a doorway to the Infinite Realms, so of course you’re going to struggle! But you can’t give up, alright? You have to train.” And then teasingly, Spirit said, “Think of Robin. Don’t you want to make him proud?”

Secret squeaked. Then she moved away and blushed, covering her face for a moment before she finally nodded meekly.

Spirit laughed boisterously, slapping her on the back. “That’s the spirit!” She winked. “Literally! Now come on, let’s practice again! Focus on yourself, not on your surroundings! Focus on your core and push the feeling of dispersing yourself outward and try not to focus on getting through, not over!”

Secret sighed but straightened her back and then clenched her fists.

Yes, she had to master her abilities no matter what! For her friends! For the people who believed in her! And most importantly, for herself!

#how did you know I was reading the YJ issues…. are you in my walls….#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #anon ask #greta hayes #dani fenton #dani phantom #danielle fenton #danielle phantom #ty for the ask <3 #tim drake

151 notes · View notes

silksongeveryday · 6 hours ago

Text

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 731.

Well, after two long years of posting, I’m finally taking a break.

Thank you guys for everything for the past two years. It’s genuinely been so fun making daily doodles. But all good things must come to an end eventually. I’m tired.

What are the plans moving forward?

read below the cut if you’d like to know!!

Taking a break:

Life in general has been really rough lately. Tons of family drama, personal medical issues making it impossible to function some days, and my childhood dog recently passed away a few days after Christmas last year. So it was a real challenge to “keep up appearances” if you know what I mean.

I’ve said this plenty of times in the past already, however I’ll repeat it since there’s surprisingly a lot more new people that have followed since then. I’m taking a whole month off from posting entirely. So I won’t be active on Silksongeveryday until about March 14th. Why? Hopefully it’s obvious but posting daily content for two years straight really does something to you. I’ve grown tired of this blog just a little bit, and I feel stepping away from it for a month will help me reconnect. I still love the game and its community, and I’d hate for my disinterest in a single blog to ruin that. If a month long break could fix that then so be it.

I’m also taking a somewhat indefinite break from daily doodles. I WILL still be posting doodles occasionally every once in a while after I come back from my month long break. However I won’t be doing daily doodles.

So no daily doodles ever again?

There is only one condition that has to be met for me to return to daily doodles.

A Silksong release date is announced.

Which is…let’s face it, a release date might not happen any time soon. 6 years of near radio silence from TC? I’m not expecting much, especially not in a month.

But WHEN a release date is announced I’ll definitely return to daily doodles and do a sort of daily “countdown” until Silksong is officially out.

Will doodle requests still be open?

Yes! Even if I will no longer be doing daily posts I will still occasionally post every once in a while with doodles! So if there’s a specific doodle you’d like to request and you have an extra $1 hanging around, hornet doodle requests are open on my ko-fi!!

What about the current projects that were happening on Silksongeveryday?

I’m still working on them! Just as mentioned before, a lot of stuff happened irl so it’s kind of on the back burner.

For the Hornet Journal Series: I plan to post the remaining entries after I come back from my month long break. Whether I work on them during that month long break totally depends on how I’m feeling. But there may be a likely chance I work on a few here and there on my own time! But regardless, I do plan to finish this project. So no worries!

For Hornet’s Strange adventures: I know it’s been ages since this particular project finished on the blog. Development for the free game is slow going since I’m working on this project entirely by myself with a game engine I’ve never used before. Progress is being made but it’s unfortunately slow thanks for irl conflicts. But, just like the journal series, I do plan to finish this project so I promise it won’t be abandoned!! I just need a break first lol.

___________

I think that’s all I have to say?? But if anyone has any questions, asks are always open and I’m more than happy to answer just about anything!

Thanks again for the wonderful experience, it’s been an amazing journey with you guys <3

See you all in a month!!

#ssed #silksongeveryday #hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart

153 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 22 hours ago

Text

Cake Surprise

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! I'm glad to be able to do specials again, so this year I worked on an idea I had for a while! Unspecified yandere, too, so you can imagine whoever you want! :D Hope you enjoy it ♥

Characters: Male!Yandere x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Food Sabotage, Feeding body fluids), Pathetic Yandere, Stalking, Forced Isolation, Pretending to be a friend, Long Post

Valentine's Day had never been his favorite day.

Why? Sharing a birthday with an official holiday just sucked. The gifts were generic merchandise catered to the holiday—all pink and cute and strawberry scented—and most people were too busy to celebrate on his actual birthday since they were doing couple stuff. But this year? This year, he loved his birthday.

Because he got to spend it with you.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so excited about his birthday party, especially since there had never been someone special by his side before. Usually, he sat between all the guests, who were coupled up and feeding each other cake and laughing at the bad jokes of their lovers, but this year would be different. Because out of all the people invited, you and him were the only ones single.

There were great hopes tied to the fact that between all the lovey-dovey couples, you'd only have one option to choose. He had ensured that no one got the stupid idea to ask you out leading up to this day. For the last weeks, he had followed you around, discouraged others from approaching you, and conveniently put himself on your radar, always smiling and greeting you, walking you home after work when you two "coincidentally" met after his own shift. Buying and offering you a drink or a snack ever so often just from the "goodness of his heart". You never even noticed how he melted in your presence, how he absorbed every word you said, more desperate to spend more time with you every day.

It was a lot of effort to be the only one by your side, considering how beautiful and desirable you were. Countless times, he had to hold himself back to not pluck out the eyes that followed you wherever you went. The light in your eyes was so vibrant that no picture could capture it, and your smile made him feel like he was finally coming home after years of trying to find his place of belonging. It simply had to be you, no matter the struggles he had to go through. He made sure to be up-to-date on every hobby you had, so the conversations wouldn't run out, and in times of distress, it was him who offered his help. No wonder that you, when you were sad about not meeting your friends as often anymore and feeling lonely, gladly accepted his offer to come to his birthday party.

He regretted having to put a damper on your mood before this by making sure you'd be a little more desperate to spend time with him, too. But when you said "yes", he heard the wedding bells ring.

Everything was already decorated, his apartment a monument to everything he didn't like. Gaudy balloons, reds and pinks, roses, and kitsch that made his stomach churn. His fridge was stocked with bottles of sparkling wine, Valentine's special drinks, chocolate-dipped fruits, and the highlight of the day: a sweet, strawberry-flavored, buttercream-covered, delightfully decorated, three-tiered cake. No one would call him stingy, that much was sure.

Carefully pulling out the cake from the fridge, he admired how heavy it was, smelling heavenly with all the cream and fruits on top of it. It would be the day's highlight and, hopefully, the way straight to your heart. He knew all about your love for sweet carbs, and although you ate it mostly for special occasions or when you felt really shitty on some days, this cake was definitely going to impress you.

Setting it down on the kitchen counter, he admired the artistic endeavor done on the food. Some would say it was almost too pretty to eat with all the swirls and decorations covering it, but he'd make sure you'd receive the biggest, most delicious piece of them all! Just thinking about you cutting a big bite out of it, scooping it up on your fork, and passing it through your plush lips sent shivers down his spine.

Your tongue darting out to lick off some excessive cream left behind on your cheek, the sounds of pleasure and delight you'll make as the cream melts in your mouth, coating everything in sugary sweetness. Feeling his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his pants, he knew he shouldn't indulge in the images of you enjoying the cake he provided for you, but how could he not, especially when the comparisons were almost too perfect?

Even though he knew there was a difference between the cake and his cock, it was so easy to replace the two in his thoughts.

He was imagining you on your knees, tongue stretched out to taste his shaft with eager licks, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Your lips wrapped around his tip, licking and sucking up the precum spreading all throughout your mouth until you could finally swallow his whole length, your head bopping up and down, pleasing him to receive all of his "cream".

By the time he pulled himself out of his head, watching the seconds run by on his clock with no more than twenty minutes left until the party was supposed to take place, his cock was rock-hard and leaking into his underwear. You were a potent aphrodisiac and he should have known better than to indulge in the thoughts of you, but it was hard, considering he desired you more than he ever had anything before. Nothing would ever bring him as much joy as you would. You had long become his whole world, and he worshipped you like the deity you were.

It was absolutely impossible to look into your eyes without coming right then and there on the spot. Time was running out as every minute threatened with his guests' arrival, and now he had this extra challenge to take care of before this perfect day could commence.

Working quickly, he freed his imprisoned cock, his palm almost immediately slathered in pre-cum, lubricating him as he pumped it up and down. All he had to do was keep imagining you and all the things he had planned for when he'd finally get to claim you as his completely. His hand worked back and forth, and he thought about taking you to his bedroom after the party, you wanting to thank him in private for the invitation. You, in skimpy, pink lingerie, slowly undressing yourself. The thought of you stripping away your clothes until you were almost completely bared to his eyes was nearly enough to make him cum. However, his cock was a mean prick, still so hard and needy, even though he fed his mind the delicious imagery of you.

All he could do was keep going at this point, time ticking away as he scolded himself for not finishing up quicker. You, jerking him off instead, your soft hands working over his shaft, telling him how much you want him to fill you with his big cock. How you've dreamed of him taking you and moaning at the pure thought of it. His hips made a jump forward as he imagined the tip of his cock about to penetrate you, finding your soft, receptive hole waiting while you mewled and pushed back against him. It almost felt real how wet you were in his mind, almost as if...

Prying his eyes open, he looked down in horror at the smudge on the cake, his tip donning a cream hat, which would have almost been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. This cake was his masterpiece, and he just put his cock against it, almost completely ruining it!

"Shit, shit, shit," he mumbled, using his dirty hands to spread the buttercream down evenly where he had nudged it, the precarious state of his cock forgotten for a moment. It clearly looked like someone tampered with it, but at least it was uniform again. He'd simply take this piece so that no one would see.

Sighing, the stress fell off him again, his cock twitching below to remind him of what still needed his attention. Swiping off the cream from his tip, he licked it off his fingers, moaning at its sweetness. You'd enjoy it so much and savor every bite because he knew you liked the flavor. And it was all his doing.

Stroking his cock again, he eyed the smudged spot on the cake that he had ruined, imagining you eating something his dick touched. You'd never know, but you'd still enjoy it. There was barely anything more he could do to mark the cake, yet it drove him almost insane to think it was all his doing that made you enjoy it. If only there was something more. Something even clearer that marked you as his, other than just providing you with cake and a quick taste of his dick hurriedly covered by coating.

His pulse rose as he imagined his cum dripping down your lips, seeping into your skin. You, moaning as you tasted his jizz willingly, enjoying the taste mixed with the enormous amount of sugar from the cake. You'd never know what he did, never question it. No, instead, you'd be thankful and filled with his cum. You'd be marked as his by the smell of his cum and your willingness to consume it. No one could argue who you'd belong with while his batter was inside you.

With heavy breaths, he placed his tip back on the smudged cake spot. No one had to know. He could simply fix it again, and no one would notice the disgrace he did to this cake he'd present as his masterpiece.

Awfully slowly, with a loud groan, he pushed his tip inside the goods, followed by his shaft. The insides crumbled around him, welcoming him like he imagined you would. Sounds of pleasure erupted from the cake, the same wet squelching that was anticipated from any good hole.

One push, two. Everything was tight and yet softer than he had ever imagined. Immediately, the images returned to his mind—you, hungrily licking off the cake from his cock. It was all that was needed for the pressure to build. His thrusts grew sloppier as he snapped his hips forward. The cake threatened to slip away, so he grabbed the plate, making sure it would take his cock as it should. Another thrust, another loud moan as he imagined you arching your back and curling your toes, screaming as you were coming on his cock in your frilly lingerie, flushed with ecstatic pleasure only he could give you.

It was enough to send him over the edge, too.

He felt his cum burst into the cake, sloshing all around him and threatening to leak out. There was too much to absorb, but for a moment, he simply let himself enjoy the feeling of filling you to the brim. He'd have to clean up and get ready very quickly after this, so for a few blissful seconds, he let the shudders rush through him, listening to the screams and moans of yours that he could easily imagine just from his memories.

By the time he got a grip on himself, cum had already drooled out of the hole he made, adding an embarrassing stain against the white buttercream. He wiped off his cock quickly before putting it back inside his pants and grabbed some coating and fruits to fill up the hole he had created. In a moment of clarity, he realized how fucked-up this was, but the doorbell rang before he could decide not to serve his cum-filled cake to anyone and discard it.

As expected, everyone was awing and oohing at his efforts, their eyes going big at the sight of the cake. Embarrassment was an understatement for what he felt. It should have been pride, happiness, carefreeness. But knowing what lingered inside this cursed cake was too damning, too shameful, even for him.

And then, you arrived. Like an angel sent from heaven, with a little green package, whispering how you knew he didn't like the Valentine's fuss, so you made sure to be extra careful not to come close to the theme with your gift. Your heart was so good, your intentions so pure, and watching you light up as you saw the cake utterly broke his heart.

He wanted to, but couldn't. He definitely couldn't serve it to you.

The guests mingled, filling his apartment, as he began to dread every second of the party. You looked so natural, swaying your body through the room as if you already lived there. As if you were another host to the party, you handed out drinks and helped everyone to settle in. A sight to behold, that's what you were, fitting between all the decorations with how beautiful you were.

He should have been overjoyed by the sight of you acting so naturally in his home, playing his better half without even agreeing to go steady with him yet. But when everyone sat down at the table, ready to celebrate him, his mood crashed violently. Sweat collected on his forehead as he cursed the damn day, especially when you walked up to him, asking if he was alright and checking his temperature. You were so perfect, so sweet. So kind to offer to check on him. If only you could have touched him more, made him forget about all the other guests, and let him explore your body indefinitely in return. Of course, he quickly denied anything was wrong, instead inhaling your perfume, which left him light-headed. It made it easy for you to lead him to the table, sitting him down while you went to "take care of the rest" for him, and his guests kept him busy, talking and congratulating him, so he didn't see what you were doing in the kitchen.

At least not until you started bringing out slices of cake to everyone. He got the first one, topped with fruit, since it was his birthday. It was a beautiful piece from the top tier, and one by one, the cake was handed out. Gripping the chair he sat on hard, he watched as the cake slowly lost its height, piece by piece. Soon, only half of the bottom tier was left, and from his position, he couldn't see where you cut yourself a slice from. Maybe you'd miss the spot, and he could dispose of the rest quietly later. No one had to know, even if it was gross what he did to the cake either way.

But when you sat down next to him, smiling at him as you held up your plate, the color drained from his face when he noticed the change in cream consistency inside and the piece of fruit stuffed into the middle of the cake.

Jackpot.

Everyone sang him "Happy Birthday" while he sweated profusely, his eyes transfixed on your plate, but he didn't even notice or care. Clearing his throat, it was his time to make a small speech, but instead, he merely asked you to swap pieces since he had much more fruit on his, and it looked more delicious. You shook your head, holding your plate out of reach playfully before telling him firmly it was his birthday and he deserved the best piece. People chuckled and started digging in. Moans and compliments rang through the room, but he couldn't pry his eyes off your plate.

Using your fork, you stabbed it right into his cum, the fluids dripping off as you didn't seem to notice the difference from the cream. You lifted it to your mouth, opening wide, and so did his as he wanted to stop you, but no words rang out. Shame and hesitation held him back as he watched you consume the cum-filled cake with delight, humming appreciatively before gulping it down.

Heat filled his cheeks as he watched you take fork after fork of his surprise cake flavor, unaware of how he disgraced it. You were smiling and enjoying your cake thoroughly until you noticed he hadn't eaten a piece yet. With an innocent grin, you cut off some of yours, holding it out to him and prompting, "Open wide!"

And he did.

With his heart bursting out of his chest, your gesture too cute to withstand, while his stomach twisted as he tasted his own salty cum on your fork. But how could he not have been happy? Being fed by you, even if it was his own jizz that coated his tongue and not the sweet cream of the cake? It was a dream come true, and at this point, he would have eaten anything from your hand, he was sure. You were so happy, too, grinning from ear to ear and doing a happy little wiggle in your seat, not even thinking about the indirect cum-stained kiss you two just shared.

You were now fully, utterly his. However perverted and disgusting it was, it was the only thing he could think of. His pretty little partner, owning the place and him as if it always belonged to you. You had his heart in your hands, squeezing it with every smile and making it throb at the sound of your laughter. And not only had he satisfied your fondness for cake, but your belly was now also filled with his cum that you ate so willingly and eagerly. Of course, you didn't know, but you didn't even flinch at the change of taste you must have noticed at some point. If only that cum could have soaked all over you, spilled over your face and chest, and from your little hole that was probably waiting for his cock to fill it next.

He could have said something, ruined this moment and any chances of a relationship with you or any of his friends. But it was already too late, he reasoned. You already ate most of the piece, and he didn't have the heart to tell you what he did. It would be his little secret, although he did make sure that no one else got a dirty piece of cum-filled cake anymore. If anything, they had always been meant just for you. But as he ate his own cake, filling his mouth to the brim to get rid of the bad aftertaste, you leaned over.

"Happy birthday! And happy Valentine's!" you congratulated him, and all the panic and embarrassment simply fell off as he smiled back, thanking you after swallowing the cake. He was already thinking about what he could fill with his cum next for you to eat as he asked you out to have dinner with him soon. And you beamed up, none the wiser, agreeing immediately.

Best birthday ever.

#yandere valentine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere tw #yandere fanfiction #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere drabbles #yandere oneshot #yandere stories #yandere writing #yandere imagines

151 notes · View notes

luulapants · 2 days ago

Text

I've been trying to come up with a moral or a headline to wrap around this story, but I just gotta say it.

One of my cousins fell in with a bad crowd in his 30s. Violent, racist, sexist shitbags that call themselves a club but operate like a cult with fucked up initiation rituals and constant monitoring to make sure everyone is toeing the ideological line. He did and said a lot of fucked up stuff, because that's required by groups like this, because it's how they make sure you get exiled by everyone else in your life.

But his dad, my uncle, he was a stubborn old bastard who had seen some shit, and he wasn't going to lose his son. He decided to get him out, no matter how long it took. He told his son that he didn't approve of his actions or beliefs, but he never tried to argue, never bought into the debate. He made sure my cousin knew he was loved and would have help to get out when he was ready. Sure enough, my cousin got himself in legal trouble, called his dad, and said, "Get me out."

My uncle's number one requirement was therapy. He found someone who specialized in cult survivors, and he drove his adult son to every session. They did family counseling. He helped him make the life changes he needed to stay away. My uncle was fully committed to getting his son back with love and attention and patience and without an ounce of judgment.

The first family gathering my cousin came to after years on the outs, he would start to say something fucked about vaccines or the government, then something amazing would happen: he'd stop himself. He'd say something like, "Sorry, that's just something someone told me, but that doesn't mean it's right." The whole family agreed with each other that we were not to scold or shame him for saying those things. We could correct him if he didn't correct himself, but we had to do it gently and with love.

My uncle died, and my cousin backslid pretty hard. He had a lot of other bad shit going on in his life, and he'd lost his main pillar of support. He felt alone. We found out at the funeral that he was back in his gang, and the family knew what my uncle would want us to do. We showered him in love and we made him feel less alone. At one point, someone said, "I'm so happy you're here," and he burst into tears.

Me and this cousin were never close before. He's a lot older than me - he was friends with my brother (who died), not me. I didn't even have his number until the funeral, but now we're texting regularly. He left the gang again. He's back in therapy. He's ready to do the hard work. Every conversation ends with 'I love you.'

I guess - you can cut off everyone in your life who falls into hateful ideology, that's a choice you can make. It doesn't reduce the number of extremists in the world, though. It also doesn't feel anywhere near as good as helping to save them.

#personal #cults #right wing extremism

174 notes · View notes

jybyls · 3 days ago

Text

Haunted feelings || T.C

Masterlist

Synopsis: Fear turned out to bring out hidden feelings. (Thanks @darkpoetdreamer for the idea)

Warnings: Fluff, strangers to friends (?) to friends to lovers, haunted house, bad writing, not proofread, I think that's all.

Words: 2.3k

- 📜🎧🍂 -

Sam, Chad, Tara, and you were sitting in the living room, bored to death. You had no ideas of what you could possibly do, so you were all just minding your business on your side. Well, I'm not really minding your own business. You kept glancing up at Tara every now and then.

You wanted to talk to her but you didn't know what about, it's not like you guys weren't friends, actually you guys were basically best friends but lately it's been oddly hard to act normal around her and you couldn't figure out why. Yes, you did not use your brain on that one.

"Guys !! I have plans !" Mindy exclaimed as she ran into the living room, almost slipping down. Y'all looked at her excited frame, wondering what she had in mind, "What, Mindy ? Wanna do a horror movie marathon ?" Chad mocked his twin sister, which only led to her giving him a dirty look. You slightly giggled at the scene in front, looking at Mindy to hear her answer.

"Don't say this. I might consider it." She said and that ended up with all of you screaming 'no' because you're sick and tired of watching the same horror movies Mindy propose, "No, please, let's not consider that as an option of a plan. What was your main idea ?" Tara spoke up, but your brain didn't listen.

It just went, 'blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, background stuff..' Safe to say you're a simp. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam. Her older sister sense has been tingling toward you for a moment now.

She definitely knows something is up with her sister and you. She kept her suspicion to herself, tho.

"Will you all shut up and listen to me ? My plan is to visit a haunted house. Y'all are down, or are you too afraid to follow me ?" Mindy exclaimed with a teasing tone, taunting you to follow her in her amazing idea.

"If we don't agree to come with you, you won't go. You're too afraid to go by yourself, that's why you're asking us." Sam, more than calmly, explained her point, which was true, but the shorter twin would never admit it. "That's not the point ! Are you coming or what ?" She shouted, distracting you from Sam's words. You all laughed at her.

"You know what ? Fuck it." Tara said, "Where's that haunted house of yours, anyway ?" The younger Carpenter mocked her friend, not really believing that place existed. "It's down town." Mindy grimaced and Tara reciprocated it, "Very mature of you, girls." You sarcastically said before standing up to get your jacket. They watched you with a dumbfounded look on their face.

"Well ? We're going or not ?" You asked. The twin immediately smiled and screamed, "YES ! Let's go, bitches." And with that everyone is outside, walking to that haunted house. Chad and Mindy were in the front, arguing, Sam was right behind them, not even listening to their faded words, while Tara and you were awkwardly walking next to each other.

You quickly became friends when she moved to New York. You were going to the same college and had the same classes most of the time. You didn't know Tara's story, you didn't know what she experienced, well, at the beginning of your school year you didn't even know who was this Carpenter girl and why was everyone whispering stuff about her and her apparently psychotic sister.

You didn't really care, tho, you thought it wasn't your problem until one morning in your English class your teacher assigned the class for a group project and you got teamed up with Tara. Everyone's eyes were on both of you, but again, you didn't care. You didn't know her, how could you judge her ?

By the end of this class, you came to the conclusion that you liked her. She wasn't mean, like students said. She was actually sweet. She did come up strong at first, but how could you blame her when the whole world wouldn't listen to her until she had nothing left to say ? Well, you couldn't.

You couldn't blame her for anything. And you felt like that when you just met her, so it's safe to say that now that you're down baf for her, it made it impossible to blame her.

Even with her trauma and her sister's advices for some reasons she trusted you. She quickly opened up to you and talked about what happened to her in Wosboro. She talked about Ambet, her sister, her parents, everything. You know everything about her, and you took care of that information. Obviously, you trusted her equally.

You told her everything she needed and wanted to know about you. And ever since you never left each other's side. Eventually, Sam learned to appreciate you, and so did the twins. Oddly enough, everyone agreed with Tara when she suggested that she should be part of the group.

It's been three mot hs now that you're part of the group, and they can all easily say that they like you a lot. You're trusted, and your company is always more than welcome.

You've currently all arrived at the so-called haunted house, holding you phones up with the flash lights on because of the darkness inside. Tara and you stayed close to each other, Sam was behind the two of you while Chad and Mindy were walking to the front, but they quickly backed up with a jump once they heard a noise.

"Did you hear that ?!" Minday whispered-yelled to all of you with a hint of dramatist, "Yes, I fucking did ! What was that ?" Her brother answered with the same tone. "It's the floor." The short brunette rolled her eyes at their dramatist, "It's cracking." You continued, slightly laughing at their reactions.

They huffed, "Yeah. No, yeah, we knew. We were trying to scare you guys." The boy answered with fake confidence, trying to stand taller. "Sure." Sam tried to hold back her mocking smile. You and Tara weren't has strong tho, not only were you mockingly smiling but also directly laughing at them, shamelessly making fun of their sudden fear.

The twins rolled their eyes, huffing again but eventually gave up. They knew they couldn't win with Tara as an enemy. The brunette might be small, but God knows she can and will bite back. With no mercy whatsoever.

You all walked, trying to call in any spirit, but obviously, nothing happened. The scariest thing you saw was a drawing of penis probably made by some teenage boys who found this place before you. The twins kept getting scared by random noises, and they also kept claiming not to be, which was quite ridiculous but strangely funny. It gives Sam something else she can mock them about, and that's enough to make this woman content.

Midnight suddenly hit your watch. You wanted to go home. However, you didn't want to ruin everyone's fun, so you stayed quiet. You lazily follow your friends around. Your mind was far away, thinking about a thousand different things but mostly one thing. Actually, one person. Your best friend, Tara Carpenter. This girl has been haunting all your thoughts.

At first you believed it was nothing, 'It's just because she's my new best friend. That's why I'm always thinking about her.' You told yourself, trying to get some sort of reassurance even tho you knew you were lying to yourself.

Because you knew damn well you're not supposed to think about what your best friend's lips taste like, neither are you supposed to think about her hands on your body and yours on hers. But since you didn't want to ruin your friendship with her, you closed your mouth.

Whenever you felt like telling her she looked pretty, you didn't. Or you'd just say something like, 'cool outfit' or 'cute haircut', when in reality you wish you could tell her how stunning she looks, how you can barely brung yourself to believe that she's real because of her beauty. You wanted to ramble about how much you loved her freckles, how you wanted to kiss every single one of them.

But you couldn't. That was the best you could do. Small, furtive compliments. You were to fucking scared to say too much and risking making her uncomfortable. Or worst disgusted by you. That'd be the end of your world. And your world resolve around her so it's easy to say that if she rejects you in any way you'd be a heartbroken mess.

Little did you know that the girl you were crazy about was head over heals for you. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, she barely even admitted to herself to began with but damn was she down bad for you.

She didn't want to say anything by fear of ruining your friendship. You were so dear to her she would never forgive herself for losing you. So instead of trying any kind of move on you she decided to stay quiet and cherish every second she gets to spend with you.

"Can we head back home or do you still want to walk around like idiots ?" Sam spoke up, clearly tired of this little adventure. You immediately nodded, "Yes, let's go home. I'm getting tired of this." Tara followed you, "Yeah, we're going home." Mindy whined however she agreed.

"Alright, alright. Let's go home. This place's a dump anyway." Chad led the way out of the building, Mindy on the other was terribly disappointed. She wanted to see a ghost or any spirit so badly but nothing happened. Sad for her, but good for all of you because it meant you could head home with a quiet Mindy.

The walk back home was full of teasing against the upset girl who kept huffing and rolling her eyes. You and Tara didn't participate much to the teasing since you shared earplugs with your shared playlist blasting in your ears. To make sure the earplugs wouldn't fall you stayed close to each other, your fingers brushing against one another. Your heartbeat went faster as you hardly blushed, thanks to the darkness it wasn't visible to anyone.

You hesitated for a moment before taking all your courage and interviewing your pinky with hers. You were about to pull away but she was faster to react, squeezing your pinky with hers. You looked down at your hand, a shy smile appeared on your face. You bit your inside cheek, trying to suppress your smile as you looked in front of you.

Beside you Tara was shamelessly smiling, evidently happy about what just happened. Neither of you spoke a word, the simple yet loving gesture meant more than anything.

The older Carpenter had a suspicious look on her face when she saw you and her sister hurrying upstairs the second everyone got home. She trusted you enough not to worry about anything, but her older sister instinct was hitting like crazy. She knew something was going to happen in this room. And she wasn't wrong.

You closed the door behind you as Tara connected her phone to her speaker, soft music was playing in her room. You sat on the chair of her desk while she sat on her bed. For a short time neither of you spoke, enjoying the calm music until Tara broke the slight awkwardness of this moment. "I think we need to talk." Her tone was eripus which cause you to panicked, "What-? What about ?" You faintly stuttered, your eyes widened a little bit. "About what happened earlier." She knew she was making you panick and this brat was savouring it.

You were overthinking like crazy, 'Did she just held my pinky by politeness ?', 'Did I make her uncomfortable ?', 'Oh my god. Did I just loose my best friend ?' Were one of the few questions that went through your brain when she mentioned what happened some minutes ago.

You shakingly breathed out, "What about it ?" You anxiously fidgeted with your rings, waiting for her answer but your mouth had other plans. "Did you not like it ? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I really didn't mean to. It's the last I ever want to do. I love you too much for that."

Fuck.

Maybe you should learn to think before speaking in anxious situations. You both froze at your final words. You tried to speak again but nothing came out of your mouth. Oh, you definitely screwed it.

"You love me ? Like love me, love me ?" Tara asked but again you couldn't find any words to answer so you just nodded. She was dumbfounded. She didn't know how to react. She dreamt of this moment but never expected it to actually occur.

A long silence came between you, even the music couldn't make the situation less awkward. You were so incredibly ashame. You felt like you were burning. You finally found some words, "I should go. I'm sorry." You stood up however it wasn't in Tara's plan to let you go anytime soon. "No, no. Sit back down." Her tone was enough to make you melt. You listened without thinking twice, sitting back down on your chair.

The brunette shook her head and tapped the empty place next to her on her bed, quietly telling to sit next to her. You understood her command and moved to sit next to her.

As soon as you were next to her, her hand found yours. "You didn't make it uncomfortable. Yes, I liked it. And I love you too." She gently whispered, her soft smiled grew on her face, "Like love me, love me ?" You murmured, you barely had the strength to find your voice. The whole thing was unbelievable.

Tara chuckled then nodded, "Like, love you, love you." She nudged your shoulder which caused you to follow her chuckle. "How long have you liked me for ?" You quietly asked, "For too long. So what do you say we stop waiting, hm ?" She smirked as she looked at you. You instantly nodded, "Yeah, that sounds great." You smiled, squeezing her hand.

Waiting this long was worth it, you're finally with the one you love.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: Rushed end because I'm tired. This was supposed to be a Halloween fic- my bad lol. Have a good day/night. I hope you forgive me for how bad this is. Love y'all <3

129 notes · View notes

that-hazbin · 2 days ago

Text

Things Alastor Has Definitely Said 7

Vaggie: You have a talent for being a grade A jackass. Seriously, you can get snappy within seconds, the fuck is your problem?

Alastor: Thank you, it's the chronic pain!

Vaggie: What?

Alastor: I never fully recovered from the war.

Vaggie: WHAT?!

Alastor: Did you believe the cane was for aesthetics?

—

Angel: You got hurt during the war?

Alastor: Incorrect!

Angel: But you just told Vag—

Alastor: I was lying!

Angel: Ah, okay. So the chronic pain and the cane stuff ain't true?

Alastor: No, no, I got the chronic pain from being beat as a child! I started needing the cane as I grew older, the damage just sort of stacked up.

Angel: ...That's worse than getting it from the war.

—

Alastor: The universe is theorized to have been created about 13 to 14 billion years ago, is that correct?

Lucifer: Eh, I mean, that's an accurate estimate.

Alastor: And you were created before the universe was?

Lucifer: Well, yeah, I was made to help create the universe.

Alastor: So it's accurate to call you a cradle robber?

Lucifer: LILITH WAS A GROWN ASS ADULT WOMAN, OKAY—

—

Alastor: So, Lucifer doesn't know you're an angel yet.

Vaggie: Oh SHIT—

Alastor: Not to worry! I just confirmed that he's insecure of the age gap he had when he fell in love with Lilith. If he shows disapproval, you just need to point it out and he'll immediately back down from any complaint he has!

Vaggie: You... I don't know whether I should be touched that you did this for me, or pissed that you went around looking for insecurities in Charlie's dad.

Alastor: I'm not hearing a lot of gratitude, and I find that rude.

—

Alastor: Charlie, I understand you want me to get along with your father, but I don't believe you have all the facts.

Charlie: What facts?

Alastor: That your father is a figure of authority and I hate figures of authority.

Charlie: ... But I'm the princess, and you get along fine with me?

Alastor: Well, my mother would have adored you, so you get a pass.

Charlie: AW REALLY?? 🥺

—

Husk: You know she's going to notice one day, right?

Alastor: What, that I say something sappy to distract her from making me "get along" with Lucifer? Please, she won't—

Husk: No, I mean she's going to notice how often Lucifer stares at you the same way he probably used to stare at her mother.

Alastor: ... Husker, that was absolutely heinous. Do I need to sew your mouth shut? Never torture my ears with your delusions ever again.

—

Alastor: NIFTY! Come along, we're going to sabotage my relationships! Can't be having another Vox situation, after all.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #things alastor said #disabled alastor #lucifer morningstar #hazbin husk #hazbin nifty #charlie morningstar #hazbin vaggie #angel dust #radioapple #appleradio

136 notes · View notes

luvfae · 2 days ago

Note

i love ur thanos stories, you wrote him so in character !! could you do a fanfic where he meets reader in the games and she’s kind of weird ? like she’s very calm and unfazed by everything and people avoid her because she asks strange questions and just seems to be in her own world completely ? i think the contrast of thanos being loud and himself with a reader with this personality would be cute :)

UNFAZED

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: typical squid game stuff, death, blood, swearing, dark humor.

The first time Thanos noticed you, he thought you were beautiful.

The second time, he thought you were insane.

It was during Red Light, Green Light. People were screaming, blood splattering the ground, bodies dropping like flies—and there you were, standing still, watching it all like it was mildly interesting.

He was running past you when he heard you mumble, “I wonder how many people have died in the exact spot we’re standing in.”

What the fuck?

He nearly tripped.

Who the hell thought about that in a situation like this? Most people were crying, praying, or pissing themselves. But you? You tilted your head, staring at the bloodied ground like you were considering something deeply philosophical.

Then the music played, and you walked forward, completely unbothered, hands in your pockets.

Thanos couldn’t stop looking at you.

When he finally made it to the finish line, panting and cursing, he turned his head—and there you were, still strolling like you had all the time in the world, like people weren’t being gunned down behind you.

When the last gunshot rang out, signaling the game was over, Thanos exhaled, shaking his head. But his eyes found you again, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes.

Then you smiled.

And Thanos—who never shut up, who always had something to say—just stood there, stunned, watching as you turned and walked away like none of this meant a damn thing to you.

Yeah.

He had to talk to you.

After Red Light, Green Light

People were avoiding you.

Not just steering clear, but actively avoiding you—whispering, sneaking glances, looking at you like you were something unnatural.

Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising.

Not after what you said.

Some guy had been crying over his dead friend, shaking his body, begging him to wake up. And you? You just crouched beside him, tilted your head, and said:

“It’s kind of poetic, don’t you think? He died reaching for the finish line but never made it. It’s like a metaphor for his whole life.”

The guy had turned white.

People started moving away from you immediately after that, muttering about how you were crazy or fucking cursed.

You didn’t mind. It gave you more space.

Ever intrigued, Thanos sauntered over and dropped down beside you, settling in like he’d known you forever. You barely acknowledged him, offering only a slow, dreamy smile—like you hadn’t just survived a massacre, like you weren’t trapped in a death game. Like none of this even phased you.

“So,” he said, smirking. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a fucked-up place like this?”

You blinked at him.

Then, completely serious, you said, “Did you know you can tell how long a body has been dead based on the color of the blood pooling in their limbs?”

Thanos stared.

What. The. Fuck.

You continued, tilting your head. “I was watching earlier. Some of them turned pale faster than others. Which means they probably had worse circulation before they died. It makes you wonder about their medical history.”

Thanos opened his mouth. Then closed it.

He had flirted with a lot of women in his life. And every single one of them—without fail—either blushed, giggled, or played along.

But you?

You were talking about corpse discoloration.

He had no idea how to respond to that.

“…Right.” He cleared his throat, regrouping. “Anyway, you’re cute. You should stick with me—I’ll keep you safe.”

You hummed. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you?”

Thanos choked.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I—I mean—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No.”

“I doubt that,” you said easily, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Your pupils are kind of weirdly dilated. And you’re talking fast. Stimulants, probably.”

Thanos didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended.

“I like you,” he decided. “You’re fun.”

You didn’t reply.

Thanos let out a laugh—sharp and amused, because he wasn’t used to being ignored, much less dismissed so easily.

“I’m Thanos,” he said, leaning in slightly, his usual confidence slipping back into place. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied, tilting your head. “And you?”

He blinked.

“Thanos. I just told you that.”

“Oh.” You shrugged, entirely unbothered. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Thanos stared at you, torn between laughing and being personally offended. Most people hung on his every word, eager for his attention, desperate to impress him. But you? You couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.

He grinned.

“I think I love you,” he said, half-joking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied easily, pulling your knees to your chest. “We’re in a life-or-death situation. Your emotions are probably just heightened due to adrenaline.”

Thanos let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You just blinked at him, as if the thought had never crossed your mind.

He studied you for a long moment, taking in the dreamy, far-off look in your eyes, the way you seemed almost bored despite the chaos surrounding you. He had met a lot of people in his life—liars, manipulators, people who pretended to be something they weren’t. But you?

You weren’t faking it.

You were just… like this.

Untouchable.

Unshaken.

Unfazed.

And fuck, he was fascinated.

“So, Y/N,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You hummed, considering. “The same thing as you, I suppose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You turned to look at him, your gaze slow and lazy, like you were looking straight through him.

“Surviving.”

Thanos couldn’t help the way his grin widened at your response, the sharpness in your tone only making him more intrigued. You didn’t say things like that to impress, or even to challenge. It was just… matter of fact. A simple observation that had him leaning in closer, drawn to that calm, detached confidence you wore like armor.

“Surviving, huh?” He repeated, more to himself than to you. “I like that answer.”

You didn’t smile back, but there was a small flicker in your eyes—a brief moment where it almost seemed like you might’ve been amused. He could see it, hidden just beneath the surface of that indifferent expression.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you said, voice matter-of-fact. “We’re all just waiting for our turn.”

His smile faded for a second. It wasn’t lost on him that you were right. No one in the game was truly safe. He couldn’t shake the idea that your calmness wasn’t just for show, though. You were waiting for your turn, but there was no fear in your eyes.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re too concerned about it,” he noted, crossing his arms. “Most people would be scared, running around like headless chickens. But you? You’re just… here.”

“You’re right,” you said softly, your voice still far too calm for the circumstances. “I guess I’m not scared. Not yet.”

Thanos tilted his head, studying you more closely now. “What’s your deal, huh? You’re not like everyone else in here.”

You blinked, giving him a look that could only be described as mildly curious. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

He shrugged, not exactly answering your question but also not denying it. “Maybe.”

You didn’t respond right away, but there was a beat of silence, a moment where the two of you were left alone in your own thoughts, the rest of the chaos going on around you completely irrelevant.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me,” you said after a while, almost absently. “I’m just aware of things… most people choose to ignore.”

“And what do you think they’re ignoring?”

“Their own mortality.” You leaned back against the cold wall, staring ahead. “Everyone acts like they’re invincible until they’re not. But me?” You looked at him then, your gaze cool but steady. “I’ve already accepted that I’m not. That’s why I don’t react. I don’t have time for it.”

Thanos blinked, the intensity of your words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t sure why, but that calm, grounded air you had around you was starting to do something to him. It was like you were speaking a truth he hadn’t been ready to hear, or maybe didn’t even want to.

“You’re one strange person, Y/N,” he said with a half-smile, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or be genuinely intrigued by what you just said. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you before.”

You didn’t reply immediately, letting the silence hang between you two. But the corners of your mouth twitched, just for a second, like you almost wanted to laugh. Or maybe it was just another strange quirk he didn’t understand.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough, Thanos,” you finally said, using his name with that same strange casualness you used for everything. “Everyone does, eventually.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise, but Thanos found himself leaning forward slightly, captivated.

“Maybe,” he said, voice softening, his usual bravado slipping for just a moment. “But, uh, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily, are you?”

You glanced at him with that same blank expression, your eyes unreadable. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Thanos felt his pulse quicken, that feeling he got when things were starting to shift. There was something about you that got under his skin, something that made him want to figure you out—whether you wanted him to or not. You were like a puzzle, one he didn’t know how to solve, but hell if he wasn’t going to try.

“Good,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on you, Y/N.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own safety or hers, but for the first time since the game started, he wasn’t thinking about the other players or how to win. All he cared about was you—this strange, unfazed person who didn’t blink at the carnage around her, but still somehow seemed to have a grip on what was really going on.

For now, though, Thanos would be your friend. But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before he tried to get closer.

He couldn’t stop himself.

#choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #thanos x reader #thanos #choi su bong fluff #thanos fluff #player 230 x reader #player 230 #player 230 fluff #squid game

131 notes · View notes

ratlesshonret · 3 days ago

Text

I think the r/limbuscompany situation is so hilarious.

So, the mods create a poll one day. Basically saying "we think that the sub is too horny. we're gonna hold a vote. you can choose to either have us make the NSFW rules stricter, or keep them the same"

Before this point, the rule was just "NSFW will be banned if its hornier than stuff in the game" But apparently, too many people were reporting relatively innocent posts for being NSFW, so the mods wanted to "make it easier" by just automatically banning anything in that gray area.

75% of the voters chose to keep the rules the same. And the mods totally and definitely respected their decision and NAH I'M JUST KIDDING THEY MADE THE RULES STRICTER ANYWAY

They said "we're gonna test out the stricter rules for a month" and, in my opinion, this was a ploy to make people not get so pissed about it.

People were pissed about it. People started clowning on the mods and all that. And a few things happened.

First, posts started getting auto-removed left and right because of some new automod report threshold system. Obviously, not good.

And then, someone posted This Art of Angela eating corn (originally drawn by one chitoitsu7) and got banned from both r/limbuscompany and r/theodysseyhadapurpose (the limbus shitposting sub with the same mods)

And not only that, but all their comments and posts from both subs were completely purged.

This Meme was also posted. I think it may have been posted by the same user as the one who put the corn art onto the sub, but if not, it was also posted by someone who had their account banned from both subs due to it.

At this point, people are fucking pissed. Everyone is mad. Even the people who were defending the mods over the NSFW decision were like "okay but now they have both not listened to us and started banning people who disagree with them"

And then, the person who posted the Angela Corn art got this message.

Now I don't have time to go through all the archived posts and comments by this person and point out how few-to-no examples there are of them "stirring the pot" but its safe to say that they broke no rules. At least, not enough to justify an IMMEDIATE permaban from both the sub in question and a different sub. Even the inciting art, the Angela Corn art, is not NSFW in any conceivable way unless you're either a complete degenerate or a top-tier puritan.

Everyone is mad. This message, which sounds like it was written by a 14 year old who watches too much anime and not like a simple and clear ban explanation by an experienced moderator, has been turned into one of the biggest copypastas in the Reddit Limbus community.

Where are we now? Apparently, the mods are going to make a statement soon. It seems like they may have been gaming too much and not noticed the sub bursting into flames for the past half day. Either that or the rogue mod(s?) were just too convincing about everything being fine. Either way, we'll have to wait and see.

#project moon #limbus company

91 notes · View notes

jeonginsleftcheek · 9 hours ago

Text

Heart shaped

pairing: lee felix x gn!reader

genre: fluff, roommates to lovers au

warning/s: just disgusting fluff

a/n: this is an old drabble that has been in my drafts for like half a year. i wanted to post dolly today but since i got delayed here's a little something, happy valentine's day my babies🩷

You're slowly waking up. Your eyes flutter before you finally open them and they land on the window.

It's still dark out. 3am. That's what it says on your clock.

Great. This is the third night in a row that your roommate woke you up with strange noises in the kitchen. The last two nights you tried to ignore it.

Felix isn't the type of person to do stuff like that on purpose, so you let him be. Whatever he's doing won't be long, right?

Well, here you are, proven to be wrong.

You sigh, deciding you really need to get up and check what he's doing.

"Felix?" your voice startles him and he turns from the stove abruptly. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did I wake you up? I'm sorry!" he panics, scrambling around the kitchen and moving stuff.

But you can see what he's trying to hide. There is at least five trays of well- kind of heart shaped cookies, some of them are burnt, some were crushed into pieces, some had icing on them.

"Are you nervous baking?" you chuckle, coming closer and you can see redness forming on his freckled cheeks.

"Yeah, something like that." he nods, avoiding your eyes.

"Are you making heart shaped cookies?" you try again.

"I'm trying to make heart shaped cookies." he corrects you, finally looking up at you. "I accidentally burned the first batch. And the second one, they started falling apart. And then this third one just wasn't the right taste. And the fourth one, the icing looks weird. And-"

"Why don't you breathe?" you place your hands on his shoulders as he almost starts hyperventilating.

"Yeah, yeah, that's like important." Felix says and you chuckle at his 3am brain.

"Can you tell me why you're doing this?" you ask when you think he's calmed down a little.

"I'm..." he swallows, "I'm trying to confess to someone."

"Oh." you nod. "And you wanna bring them cookies?"

"Yeah, exactly." he says, biting on his lip nervously.

"Since I'm not sleeping anymore, I could help you?" you suggest and he chuckles.

"Now that would be ironic." he says.

"What? Why would it be ironic?" you ask.

"No, no reason." Felix smirks at your 3am brain.

"Okay, you can help me."

Both of you get to work, to make perfectly heart shaped cookies that are also delicious and don't crumble the moment you grab them.

You wonder who the recipient is, but you don't want to pry, if Felix wanted to tell you he would.

"Alright, let's do a taste test." you nod confidently once they're done.

The two of you grab a cookie each and count down to one before biting into it.

"Mm, these are perfect!" you exclaim, eyes wide.

"They're so good!" Felix matches your excitement.

"Hey, thanks for helping me." he adds, smiling at you fondly.

"No problem, good luck with your confession." you say.

"Thank you." Felix chuckles.

When you walk into the kitchen the next morning, you see something covered up on the table.

You walk over to it slowly and realize there's a little paper with your name on it.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you pick up the note and reveal what was covered up.

"Oh." you gasp when you see the cookies you worked hard on last night with Felix, all nicely rounded in a cute basket with decorative flowers.

You take a look at the note but there's nothing on it except your name.

"See, this is why I said it's ironic you're helping me." Felix's voice startles you and you turn around and look at him.

He's leaning on the fridge, arms crossed on his chest as he smirks at you.

"W-what?" you ask like you're dumbfounded because there is no way.

"They're for you. I'm confessing to you." his smirk turns into a shy smile, his demeanor changing into something softer.

"Oh."

"Is that a good 'oh'? Or a bad 'oh'?" he asks.

"It's a good 'oh'." you chuckle and Felix comes closer to you.

"I like you. I have for a while. And I was wondering if you feel the same. And if you do, maybe we can take this basket of cookies on a picnic date with us." Felix says and you chuckle at him, your heart rate picking up speed.

"I'd love to take the cookies on a picnic date."

Both of you laugh, and Felix is leaning closer into you.

"Does that mean you like me? Or you just like the cookies?" he asks, his breath hitting your cheek and making your heart flutter.

"Both." you whisper with a smile and Felix presses his lips on yours gently.

Your eyes flutter shut as you stay still for a few moments before both of you lean away sheepishly.

"You know..." you start and Felix looks at you expectantly.

"I would've said yes even if the cookies were burnt or crumbling into pieces." you say and he blushes, fidgeting with his hands.

"Good to know."

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #lee felix x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x you #lee felix #lee felix scenarios #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines

85 notes · View notes

cosmiclily · 3 days ago

Text

chapter nine: the edge

wc: 2.8k

notes: next chapter will be the interview that i mentioned a couple of chapters ago!!! pls send some questions to our fellow rock stars

Apparently, sex was, in fact, a fantastic creative exercise—or at the very least, an excellent incentive for spitting out lyrics. Once you figured that out, the entire process of choosing lyrics, organizing tracks, and brainstorming ideas became a hell of a lot easier.

Writer’s block? Fixed with Vi’s hands gripping your hips, her mouth marking a trail down your stomach.

Frustrated over a melody that wouldn’t click? Easily solved by the way she pressed you into the mattress and pulled sounds from your lips sweeter than any song you’d ever written.

Tension from long hours in the studio? Well… she had a very effective method of dealing with that.

Of course, you weren’t oblivious. You knew exactly what Vi was doing—using you as a distraction, a way to keep from drowning in whatever emotions those songs dragged back up. You knew she was using you to not think about her. Caitlyn.

But when Vi held you like that, when her fingers tangled in your hair, when she bit down on your neck just enough to make you shiver, when she touched you exactly the way you needed to be touched? None of that mattered. Not even a little.

And, honestly? It was a great way to de-stress.

The long nights spent cramped in the studio became more bearable when you knew you could go home and have Vi all to yourself.

It was like having a place where the weight of the world could just melt away. You got to pull her closer, scratch, bite, and touch every inch of her as if she was yours to do with as you pleased.

And the memories were almost addictive. Every time the pressure of the studio, the deadlines, or a fight with someone built up, you could close your eyes and retreat to your happy place.

“We’re almost finished here,” Archie said, barely looking up from his tablet. “Mark was talking to me about promotions, interviews, appearances—the whole deal. So clear your schedules.”

You sat back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. For the first time in months, the studio didn’t feel like a pressure cooker. No one was snapping at each other out of frustration, no one was sulking over failed ideas, and—most importantly—no one was on the verge of throwing their instruments against the wall.

The hard part was finally done.

You’d recorded a couple of solid tracks, and almost every song you wanted for the album was ready. The weight that had been crushing your shoulders for months had finally eased, letting you breathe a little easier.

“Finally,” Jinx groaned, throwing herself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “If I had to listen to one more version of that last chorus, I think I’d start hearing it in my dreams.”

Ekko smirked, tuning his bass idly. “You say that like you don’t already.”

Jinx pointed a finger at him without lifting her head. “Shut it, time boy.”

Vi chuckled from her spot by the drum set, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. “Admit it—you’re gonna miss all this once we’re done.”

Jinx peeked up at her with a lazy grin. “I’ll miss driving you crazy. That part was fun.”

You shook your head, laughing, before glancing back at Archie. “So, what’s next?”

Archie scrolled through his tablet before giving you all a pointed look. “Now? We get ready to *sell* this thing. That means promo shoots, interviews, maybe even a live session or two.” He narrowed his eyes. “So, try not to look half-dead for the cameras, alright?”

You snorted. “No promises.”

“Great. Love the enthusiasm,” Archie deadpanned before turning back to his notes. “Now, let’s talk deadlines…”

He turned his tablet to us, displaying his calendar.

“This month, we’ll be finishing the recording, and the producers will take care of the rest. Next week, we want to shoot some pictures for the cover and also do some introductions for your channel—you know, fan stuff,” he rushed through, glancing up at us, his finger hovering over the screen. “And we want to do an interview, answering questions from your fans, and some general stuff.”

He continued explaining the calendar details, but you couldn’t help but notice the way everyone else’s faces seemed to blur into confusion. You weren’t the only one who was a little lost in the whirlwind of the plans. With everything that had been happening in the studio lately, the reality of the promotion process felt like a whole new beast to tackle. The recording was one thing, but now there were public appearances, live sessions, photo shoots, and interviews to manage too.

Vi, sensing the shared hesitation, shot you a quick, silent look across the room, one brow arched in that familiar, unspoken question. Is this what we’re really getting into?

You couldn’t help but grin and shrug. “Fan stuff, huh? Sounds… fun.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. “Wait, wait, hold up. So now we’re gonna have to look good for the cameras too?” She ran a hand through her messy hair. “I mean, sure, we look good, but I’m not exactly camera ready.”

Ekko chuckled, clearly amused. “Jinx, I think the camera is going to need a lot more than a filter to handle you.”

Jinx shot him a glare. “If you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.”

Archie’s face was a mixture of professional concern and barely-contained amusement. “Look, I know this is a lot, but we’ve been working for this moment. The album’s almost ready, and now we need to give people a taste of what’s coming. You want them to care, right? Then we have to make them care.”

Vi, ever the voice of reason, raised her hand, leaning forward to address the group. “We’ve been locked in here for months. It’s time to show the world what we’ve been working on. Let’s just get it over with, yeah?”

There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of agreement. Everyone seemed to acknowledge the inevitable.

“Alright,” you said with a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “let’s just get this done. We’ve made it this far.”

Archie nodded, satisfied. “Good. So, here’s the schedule for the next two weeks. Let’s get moving on it.” He handed out the specific tasks and assignments, detailing each member’s role in the upcoming photo shoots, interviews, and other appearances.

As he wrapped things up, the room fell into a quiet hum of anticipation. This was the next phase—one where the music wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore.

──────────────────────

You were paired off in twos to film a short introduction video for yourselves and the album—Vi and you, and Ekko with Jinx. Archie gave you the freedom to choose where you wanted to film and what you could talk about (as long as you stuck to the schedule, of course).

Vi suggested filming at your place, claiming “the plants give off a nice vibe.” You didn’t argue—if it made things easier, you were all for it. So, to your apartment you went.

As you both stepped inside, Vi kicked off her boots near the door while you tossed your keys onto the table, the familiar clatter echoing in the quiet space. The apartment felt weirdly calm compared to the chaotic energy of the studio. But now came the hard part—figuring out what the hell to do for this video.

“So, what do you think we should do?” Vi asked, her voice casual as she wandered over to your living room, eyeing the plants like they’d give her the answer.

You trailed behind her, chewing on the inside of your cheek. What could you film that would actually reflect your energy without coming off as too much… or, worse, boring?

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue.” You flopped onto the couch, sighing. “Ekko and Jinx are doing some painting session or whatever since they’ve got that in common. But us?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What do we do? Besides, you know…” You trailed off with a smirk, your mind flashing back to Vi's very creative methods of stress relief.

Vi chuckled, flopping down beside you and tossing her legs over your lap. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s exactly the vibe Archie’s looking for.” She shot you a teasing grin. “Though I’m sure it’d get us a hell of a lot of views.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, not trying to get us banned off every platform before the album even drops.”

Vi leaned back, staring at the ceiling in thought. “Okay, so… no painting, no X-rated content.” She tapped her fingers against the couch rhythmically. “What about something simple? Like us just talking about the songs, the process, you know?”

You made a face. “That sounds kinda… stiff. Everyone’s gonna do that. I mean, sure, we talk about the songs, but there’s gotta be something more us in it.”

Vi was quiet for a second before her eyes lit up. “What if we do something more casual? Like, we’re just hanging out, talking shit, maybe playing some old tracks and reacting to them?” She grinned, nudging your shoulder. “You know, let people see the real us—chaotic mess and all.”

You laughed, the idea settling in your mind. That actually sounded like fun. “Alright, yeah. I like that. Maybe we can even throw in some behind-the-scenes clips? Like the time Jinx nearly set the mic on fire?”

Vi burst out laughing. “Or when Ekko tripped over his own bass cable and tried to play it off like nothing happened?”

The two of you were already in stitches, the tension from earlier melting away. This felt right—natural, fun, and totally you.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and grabbing your phone. “Let’s set this up before we lose the vibe. You grab the speaker, I’ll get the camera.”

Vi gave you a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

In no time, your makeshift filming set was ready. You grabbed some snacks, adjusted the lighting just enough to look effortless, and set the camera to start recording.

You both introduced yourselves, diving into the story of how the band came together. It felt natural, almost like reminiscing with an old friend rather than filming something for fans.

“At first, it was just the two of us,” Vi said, pointing between the two of you with a grin. “We were messing around, trying to figure out our sound. Then my younger sister decided to be extremely annoying while we practiced—always yapping about how two people weren’t a real band. Eventually, she dragged Ekko into this mess, and, well… here we are.”

You laughed, the memory still vivid. “Oh, I definitely remember the first time Jinx quite literally dragged him into that old room at school—the one we used for practice. She barged in, shouting about how Ekko had a garage we could use, and how she had all these brilliant ideas.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah! I remember that. Poor Benzo looked so displeased with a bunch of teenagers making a racket in the back of his shop. I’m pretty sure he aged ten years in that first month alone.”

You both laughed, the camera kept rolling, but for a moment, it didn’t even feel like it was there.

As Vi continued talking about the process of creating the album—how the songs and lyrics meant so much to all of you—your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked, sitting there comfortably, her voice steady and confident as she spoke to the camera. The black hair dye had almost completely faded from her hair, leaving the natural pink vibrant and bright against her skin. Her hair had grown out a bit, just enough that it curled slightly at the ends, and you found yourself fighting the urge to reach out and drag your fingers through those soft, messy locks.

Your eyes traced the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way they bridged her nose, delicate and familiar. And her eyes—God, her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about, like the music, like this. It was the kind of sparkle that pulled you in, made you want to listen to her forever, just to keep that light alive.

It was almost like…

Oh.

No, no, no, no.

You were not catching feelings. That was impossible. This was supposed to be casual—just fun. You both knew that from the start. So what the fuck were you thinking?

Panic tightened in your chest, a cold, sharp edge to the realization sinking in. You were spiraling, and you barely registered Vi’s voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Hey,” she said, her brows furrowed, concern softening her features. “You good? Do you want to take a break?”

You blinked, trying to pull yourself out of the fog. “Huh? Sorry, what was the question?”

She tilted her head, studying you carefully. “Are you okay? You look kinda out of it.”

Your heart was still racing, but you forced a tight smile. “Yeah, that would be great.” You stood up from the couch, barely meeting her eyes as you made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you and leaned heavily against the sink, gripping its edges like it could anchor you to reality. Your reflection stared back, wide-eyed and flushed, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

This is NOT happening. You mentally shouted at yourself, trying to shake the feeling off. *You’ve known her for years. The moment you start sleeping with her is the moment you catch feelings? Seriously?*

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto your face, hoping the chill would snap you out of it, wash away the thoughts clinging to your mind. But as the water dripped from your chin, pooling at the edges of the sink, the tightness in your chest remained.

Staring at your reflection, you whispered under your breath, “Get it together.”

But no matter how many times you repeated it, the weight of what you were feeling didn’t budge.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. The moment you did, you saw Vi in the living room, methodically packing up the filming equipment. The casual ease with which she moved, like this was just another normal day, only made the knot in your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

Vi glanced up, pausing as she turned off the camera. “I think we’ve got enough material for today—maybe even the whole video,” she said, her tone light but tinged with something softer, more careful. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll come over tomorrow, and we can go through the footage, see what we can use. For now, you should rest.”

Her words were simple, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips wasn’t. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or playful grin—it was something else. Genuine concern. And that look … it hit you like a sucker punch.

Because all you could think about was how easy it would be to want this every day. To have her not just in fleeting moments, not just in casual touches or hurried nights. But fully. Completely. The idea burrowed itself deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like vines.

“Yeah,” you forced out, your voice quieter than before. “That sounds good.”

Vi gave you one last glance, like she wanted to say something more, but instead, she just nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder before heading for the door. The soft click of it shutting behind her echoed louder than it should have.

And then it was just you. Alone.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty room, expecting some sense of relief to wash over you. But it didn’t. If anything, the silence made it worse.

You should’ve been able to crash the moment she left, but sleep was the last thing your body wanted. You were confused, frustrated—mad at yourself, mad at her, for making you feel this way. Your body felt heavy, physically exhausted, but your mind was running on overdrive, replaying every glance, every touch, every word she’d said.

You sank onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face.

You’d told yourself from the start—this was supposed to be casual.Just a way to blow off steam, nothing more. But somewhere along the way, those lines had blurred, and now you didn’t know how to pull yourself back from the edge.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter ten

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh @baylegend6 @nomarksonelegance @antobooh @80saturn

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes

82 notes · View notes