#(inbox is empty now! please send in asks)

[sereni-teashop-keeper]

*snap taishen out wine barrels to cozy couch with blankets also pillow and with cup of water and cup of Ginger tea*

Taishen hun please be careful with the Wea this addiction is going to far you need to slow down and take breaks form it maybe talk with jornir and the others

with whoo?

(taishen before he drank water and ginger tea)

[sc3n3gr4d13ntz]

(OOC)

HELLP!!!!!! not canon to the blog I just thought it'd be funny to post something abt if infected ever found out unpleasant ate his cat LMAOOO

[ask-thetinyghosts]

so were all of you originally humans that died? or were any of you just born as a ghost??

"Can't say dying was all bad, though... I wouldn't have met these guys if I didn't!"

[gravegoer]

possible royal au with sevika?? her as a knight, bodyguard.. etc .. 🩷

also you are lowkey THE sevika writer ..

Royal Blood — 🜲

thank you, anon. i appreciate that ! also, i might make this a series (send in an ask if you are interested) summary: sevika might have a little crush, but it's so immoral— i mean, you're a royal !! also i dont use any physical descriptions in ANY of my stories unless specifically mentioned i have 20 asks in my inbox atm and i promise im getting to them (esp pirate ones) masterlist

Your parents hired you a guard despite your constant complaints. You didn't need a man to watch over you in place of them. It wasn't your fault they could never be home for you.

You are the princess, so you needed to be put in line, no more walking out alone at night, no more hanging out with friends at bars, etc. Your parents wanted to put a stop to it all.

When you were introduced to your bodyguard, it was a pleasant suprise that she was a woman. Sevika. She had dark scarred skin, a showcase of her past on her body, and a prosthetic metal arm that caught your eye immediately. But that didnt mean you liked having a bodyguard any more than you did before.

And as always, your parents planned to leave for weeks on "business" having Sevika watch over you in the mostly empty castle.

Although your parents ordered you not to step foot out of the castle, you needed fresh air badly. Opening the windows to let the breeze in was no longer enough to satisfy you. You felt like a rat trapped in a cage that desperately needed to escape.

It was the late hours of night when you decided that Sevika would most definitely be asleep, giving you the opening to sneak out. You didn't bother to change out of your ruffled night gown and sleep tights before stepping out into the hall. Your feet that were covered with thin fabric protested the coldness of the tile as you continued down the west wing.

It was definitely chillier than your warm room. goosebumps littered your arms before you attempted to rub them away. The moonlight cascaded in a film over your body, peeking through the many windows in the hall.

You turned, curiously, to the window, and the stars illuminated your irises. Putting your hands to the glass you peered at the garden, fireflies were swarming the flowers and fluttered around the fountain. You smile at the sight and suddenly become more enthusiastic about your trip.

Your excitement was soon interrupted by a husky (but loud) voice, "And where do you suppose you're going, princess?"

"I told you not to call me that," You frowned and turned away from the window to see Sevika approaching you with crossed arms.

Her heavy boots thudded on the tile, contrasting with your daintly socked feet. She stopped in front of you to look you up and down, "What? Were you in a rush to sneak out and didn't dress for the weather?" She teased.

You shook your head and looked away, "No, i wasn't sneaking anywhere.. I just wanted to get some air."

"Crack a window, princess." She directly ignored your previous order, "I can't let you leave until your parents return."

You scoffed at her strictness, "I just want to take a walk in my own garden. Can't you spare me that much?"

"What your parents say goes, now don't argue with me."

"This isn't your job—" You instantly start to argue, "Your job is to protect me not to control me!"

"You're wrong there," She stepped closer to you. "My job is to protect you and control you. Your parents ordered me to do so, so that's what I intend to do."

At that, you got angry, "Would you please just be lenient? All I ask is for a walk."

She ran a thick finger over the crease between her brows, and you took notice of the dark circles under her eyes.

"You can't just do whatever you want. You have responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities is to abide by the rules."

You scoffed and started back to your room before she added, "And tomorrow morning, I want you in my sight, no more funny business."

Leaving her without any confirmation, you slipped back into your room and slammed the door, throwing yourself back into bed. You grumbled to yourself about how this castle is a prison and buried your face into the pillows.

For the next hour, you were tossing and turning and eventually pacing around your room. Looking at the clock, it read: 12 AM.

Fuck you needed to get out.

Going on your second attempt to sneak out, you creaked the door open, slower than the first time. You were immediately met with a dark form standing outside your door.

Sevika.

She caught sight of you through the small crack, gaze cold, and confused. She raised an eyebrow, and you saw her eyes rake down your body before quickly darting back up.

"Again?"

"Why are you at my door," You huffed, now opening it fully as she had already caught you.

"I'm on duty," She stated bluntly.

"No, you just want to catch me leaving my room."

"That's called being on duty, Princess."

You ran a hand down your face, feeling the pieces of stray hair that stuck to your cheeks and brushing them away.

"Sevika, I can't sleep," you admitted, although reluctantly.

"I'll grab you a blanket or a cup of water?" She suggested while tilting her head.

"No, I have all of that. I just feel so alone here without my parents," You leaned against the doorframe, now being sincere with her.

She was caught off guard by your honesty and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry— I mean about the whole.. situation you're in"

The only reason you messed around outside the castle and refused to follow the rules is to forget about the emptyness of your own home. Sevika was beginning to realize this.

"Can you help me fall asleep," You stated, catching her off guard once again.

"Miss, I dont think thats appropriate"

You laughed at her instantly, pulling out the formalities when she got embarrassed. "Please, this is an order from your princess."

Her eyes widened at the tone in your voice and the way you looked at her when you pleaded for her company. Finally relenting, she swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly stepped into your room past you.

Your room was most definitely large, with a king-sized bed in the middle, covered with pillows and expensive silks. There was a large curtained window facing your bed that let some light through. She didn't even hear you shut the door behind her before you stepped past her, and ran to flop into your bed.

She eyed the way your nightgown lifted a bit when you jumped up but quickly cleared her thoughts. She stood stifly in the middle of your room before you sat up to pat the spot beside you.

It was hard not to stare at the way your skin tone contrasted the sheets while she walked up to you and sat beside you. (Moreso on the edge).

You chuckled at her nervousness of being in your room and scooted up to the top of your bed, feet behind her back.

"C'mon, get comfortable," you tapped her with your foot, "I didn't invite you in to make you guard my bedside"

She scoffed, and you moved your legs, planting your feet flat on your bed to make room for her to scoot back. She did so enough for you to be able to see the side of her face. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression when she looked over at you, eyeing the way you were displayed for her.

Ignoring her expression, you sat your legs in her lap and scooted down so that your butt was pressed against the side of her thigh. Your head was nuzzled comfortably in the pillows and you sighed at her warmness.

"Tell me a story."

You could see her expression, but you would like to imagine her face was flushed and embarrassed. But unbeknownst to you she was looking down at you with a smirk, knowing you couldnt see her face.

Of course, it felt wrong to have the princess splayed out on her bed in front of her, soft legs over hers and hands behind her head, but what could Sevika do, she wasnt invincible.

For a few minutes, she was caught up in a story about something that you thought was dumb. Talking about the woman she served before you, and obviously, you didn't care. You were more entranced with the way her toned thighs felt against the back of yours and the way her calloused hand brushed over your knee.

You had contemplated her attractiveness in the past but opted not to act on your desires, as she seemed very adamant about being professional. You couldn't ruin that for her.

Although tonight, she wasn't denying any of your actions.

You interrupted her story by sitting up, "Mmm, I feel tired already.. Or maybe that's the bordem."

You mumbled that last part.

"Okay, what more could I possibly do," Her grip on your knee got more intense.

You scooted forward, now sitting in her lap, "Just shut up and let me sleep."

You leaned into her.

This was a really bad idea. Sevika thought to herself, hands now hovering over you, not knowing what to do. She almost pushed you away but stopped herself upon feeling you snuggle closer into her chest.

She hoped you couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage. To add to her already racing thoughts, she couldn't even fathom how your parents would react to this.

She would be fired immediately.

Yeah.

This needs to end.

You looked up at her, wondering why you didn't feel the pressure of her hands on your body. Her face was contemplative, eyes locked into a random spot in your room.

You spoke, just above a whisper, "I need this, Sevika."

Fuck your parents.

She wrapped her arm that was closest to your knees around your body to the back of your neck, holding you to her. Her thumb brushed against your cheek comfortingly.

She didn't exactly know what it was like to be in your position, but she knew she wouldn't like it. Her metal arm was wrapped around your back, hand softly on your hip. You could almost feel the coldness through your nightgown, but you barely minded. Her face was pressed into the top of your head, inhaling your scent.

From this night on, she was no longer just your protector, but also your caretaker. She told herself she would be there for you at any moment of need.

Sevika no longer needed to suppress her feelings of want towards you, and this was all the comformation she needed that you felt the same way.

its a bit short but im having the most insane writers block right now, i have so many stories i want to complete that i end up doing none of them... whoops.. but asks are still open it might just take longer

[luveline]

do you have anything more from office frenemies with james? i just read it and i loved it so much

yes! love u ty

—you and James don’t get along until you kind of, sort of do. fem!reader, 1.5k

James listens to the most obnoxious playlist in the mornings. There’s about a fifteen minute window between when he arrives and when the workday officially starts, which coincides exactly with your window. He often gets the same elevator ride, walks a pace beside you, and decides whether he’s going to let the ‘lady’ go first through the door depending on the day. 

That morning, he’d opened the door widely, grinned at you with music blaring loud enough to make a normal person deaf from his earphones, and let you pass. Then he pretended to stick his foot out to trip you up, pulling it back at the last second. 

Jerk, you think, angry even now as he tucks himself into his desk, his earphones still ridiculously loud. He actually, genuinely, is going to get hearing damage. You’re not being bitter. Human ears aren’t meant for that. 

You click onto the workplace Outlook and open a tab on your desktop. How loudly can you listen to music? you google. A few articles appear straight away that fit your purpose —you drag them each into an empty email. Then, smiling to yourself, you find an article on the negative effects of workplace noise pollution and how this sort of selfishness can affect your coworkers’ mental health and add that at the very top. 

To: jamesp@outlook.wpa.uk 

Hi James, 

please find attached a few articles I felt might be important for you to read.

Worst, 

Your unhappy adjacent desk. 

You know he’s received it when he laughs loudly, turning down his music with a few quick clicks on his phone. 

An email comes through to your inbox shortly after.

Hi bestie, 

I’m so so sorry for the noise. Please find attached a few articles I, in turn, felt you might enjoy. 

Best, 

James Potter :) 

He’s attached an irksome variation of articles. Why music can help you get ready for the day. Ten ways workplace friendships are important. Can you really find your soulmate at work? 

You open your personal messaging system. You tend not to use it with James, but this morning he’s winding you up. 

I could report you to HR for that last one, you send. 

He replies quickly. You try very hard not to look up at him from over your desktop. I didn’t mean me. 

You’ll be deaf by thirty. 

Jealous you don’t have such great taste in music? 

Jealous of everyone in the annex. 

Want a cup of coffee?

You meet his gaze finally over the computer, find him already looking at you. You shake your head scornfully. In what world would you ever want him to make you a coffee? He’s never actually offered to make you one before, to be fair, but he’s awful to you so what are you supposed to think? He’ll probably poison it. 

He stands to leave. Remus, the other accountant to complete your trio, arrives while he’s gone with his boyfriend Sirius in tow. They’re also James’ best friends, unfortunately. It makes for some awkwardness. 

“Where is he?” Remus asks you, in the midst of a quick goodbye kiss before Sirius makes his way to his desk further down the office. 

You nibble your lip and give a dispassionate shrug. You hate talking about James. You hate his stupid mess of hair, his reading glasses, his lips when he smiles crookedly and worse when he’s glaring at you. You hate the way he sighs as he clicks his neck, the quick lap he does every other hour complaining of tired legs, the genuine tenderness he shows you whenever you’re sick. You hate James. You don't like to think about him too much lest you get caught, a fish in a net.

Or a fish with a painful hook in its lip. 

“Ah, you’re here,” James says, two cups of coffee in his hand. 

You’re only a little heartbroken when he puts one on his desk and one on Remus’. Didn’t want one anyways. 

Remus grins as James comes up behind him for a rough hug and hair ruffle. “How was last night?” 

“I wish you’d come. Sirius spent all night trying to out drink Marl, you know he can’t, so I spent all night holding his hair out of his face. I wasn’t gonna talk to him this morning, but he was being very pathetic.” 

James laughs. You pretend you aren’t listening to them, pretend you don’t feel left out even if they have no reason to be your friend, clicking at random things on your screen and scrolling through spreadsheets long finished and filed. “You know I couldn’t come, Moony,” —no point starting on their awful nicknames— “what if she needed me?” 

You still. She? 

“James, there’s not much you can do,” Remus says gently. He’s a quiet, soft sort of man, but they’re all so loud about loving one another. “You have to let her… you know.” 

You feel them both looking at you, your gaze steadfast on your screen. 

“Try not to think about it,” Remus says. 

“I’ve been distracting myself,” James agrees. 

Oh, you think. Oh. I’m such a dick. 

“You could go home?” Remus says, putting his face in his hand. “I could cover you.” 

“It’s too much work.” 

“I know, but, you know, I’ll do half, and you’ll only have half to catch up on when you come back.” 

You’re not sure who she is, and you very much still don’t like James Potter, but you're not heartless. He sounds awfully upset, fragility to his voice and a foreign balling of his fist by his hip. “Um,” you say, clearing your throat weakly, “well, with me and Remus, we could cover for you.” 

James’ face is unreadable, looking down at you. “You’d cover for me?” he asks. 

“Your work isn’t exactly hard, James.” 

“But you’d do it?” 

“How long will you be off for?” 

James frowns. “Like, two days?” he says quietly. 

“That’s fine. We can do that,” you say, checking with Remus from around James hip. “Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Remus says quickly. 

James looks at you long and hard. “You’re not kidding?” 

“No, James. Not kidding. You’d do the same for me, right?” 

James leans down to hug you before you can stop him. His arms wrap around your shoulders, a perfectly amicable touch made up of sleeper muscle and the attractive smell of almond oil, nearly sweet, slightly woody. He laughs against your cheek as he pulls away, turning back to Remus for a similar hug. “Thank you. I’ll go tell Danny right now.” He beams at you. His relief is thick as honey, palpable in his warm tone. “Thank you.” 

You can’t look at him very long. 

The memory of his fingers linger, the weight of his arm behind your head. He excuses himself to go talk to your boss, and you and Remus sit in a semi-awkward silence, of which you’re wholly responsible. 

“His cat is dying,” Remus says eventually.

You wince. ���Oh, no, really?” you ask. 

“He’s had her since we were kids. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“I really do think he’d do it for me,” you interrupt. “I’m not, you know, cruel, because we don’t get on.” 

“I know. James knows that too.” 

You want to get defensive. Why does it matter if James knows? But Remus is too nice to argue with, and secretly, strangely, you’d wanted James to know you aren’t mean. You wouldn’t have sent him that email this morning if you’d known, and maybe this is apology enough for that. 

Still, it doesn’t feel right when James returns, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I will bring you the most amazing desserts of all time as a thank you. I won’t even put your mug on the top shelf the next time I wash it,” James promises you. 

You bat aside the rage of knowing he’s the culprit and instead get out of your seat before he can leave. “Uh, James?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” 

You look at the floor by his shoes. “About earlier…”

James stands subtly between you and the bulk of the office. “You okay?” 

“I just– I’m sorry for complaining about your earphones. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.” 

“You weren’t insensitive,” he says, “I was being obnoxious. Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“I–” You hate yourself for all your stammering. “Hope whatever is wrong, that you’re okay. I’ll cover for you for the week if you need me to.” 

“Please stop feeling sorry for me. It looks weird on you. I much prefer you when you’re frowning, you get these super deep wrinkles in your forehead that I just love.” 

You turn away without looking up. “I’m gonna input all your sales information wrong.” 

“And I’m gonna bring you the best donut you’ve ever tasted to say thanks, sweetheart.” 

[bueckers]

² 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁

part one. a/n | here’s part 2 ! thank you for the love on the first one & please feel free to send requests to my inbox.

summary: in which the pleasure elicits a confession.

warning(s): car sex, jealousy, p eating, heated make-out, face riding, arguing, & love confessions.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem reader

It had been about two weeks since Paige’s confession, leaving you puzzled. Since then, there had been no texts, no calls, not even a knock at your door with an explanation. Paige had left you high and dry, her silence taking over the spaces she used to fill with her presence.

Today was Azzi’s birthday, a celebration you couldn’t miss despite the predicament you were in with her best friend. The girls hadn’t asked you about the night you stormed out of Paige’s room half naked, but you knew that they all knew now and there was no covering it up. Paige must’ve gave them intel— but it made you wonder what exactly she told them.

Despite this, you and Azzi had always shared a close bond, and you wouldn’t let Paige ruin that. The plan for the evening was straightforward: a night out at the club, drinks with the team, and a few of Azzi’s other friends. It promised to be a casual gathering, one where you could avoid an uncomfortable confrontation with Paige if you played your cards right.

You’d already been at Azzi’s dorm with Caroline, Aubrey, and Paige who had been keeping her distance from you since you arrived. After helping her pick out an outfit and adjusting her hair just the way she wanted it to be, the five of you all headed out and piled into Paige’s car, Azzi in the front and you having to take the middle of the backseat because of your shorter figure.

Everyone stayed engrossed in conversation, yourself only throwing out small comments when it was needed. As the song changed, you immediately became familiar with the playlist Paige was playing— the one you both shared for both intimate moments and late night drives. The voice of Drake’s Heat of the Moment echoed through the car, causing you to dart your eyes up to the rear view mirror to get a good look at Paige, squinting your eyes a bit. You knew the game she was playing.

She must have felt your gaze because, right then and there, she looked up too. You could only see her eyes, but it was enough to read her expression. It wasn’t cocky or teasing; it was filled with longing. There was meaning. Tearing your eyes away, you found yourself staring past Aubrey and out the dark window, as if you could really see anything. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you waited impatiently to dart out of the car.

After a few moments, you seemed to have arrived at the club. Aubrey snapped her fingers twice, breaking you out of your daze and chuckling a little. “You good?” she asked as everyone began unbuckling their seatbelts. You grinned at her, quickly glancing at the mirror where Paige was already looking at you. That brief eye contact made you revert your gaze back to the girl next to you.

“Yeah, fine,” you assured her, though your mind was anything but settled.

It had been a long night. You weren’t even sure of the time but you’d been about four drinks in alongside Azzi who had definitely had more than you, dancing sloppily with her teammates. It didn’t matter to anyone though as long as the birthday girl was having the time of her life.

You hadn’t seen Paige since you parted ways from the car, and you were prepared to keep it that way. You’d previously been sitting with Jana and Ayanna at the bar before Jana announced she had to use the restroom. With your drunken state, you assured them that you’d be okay by yourself for a few minutes instead of walking through mounds of people while Ayanna accompanied her.

Twirling the straw around in the empty glass that had previously held your vodka soda, you looked around your surroundings innocently, trying to not make it seem like you were looking for anyone in particular. But you were. You were scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Paige, yet she remained elusive. The dim, pulsating lights of the club only added to your growing sense of frustration and confusion. Had she intentionally been avoiding you all night, or was it just a coincidence?

“Looking for someone?” an unfamiliar voice called from next to you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly turned toward the stool beside you, raking your eyes up the body of a female— a very attractive one at that. She chuckled, her curls bouncing with the motion. She bore a slight resemblance to Aubrey, or maybe it was just the alcohol making your perception a little off. Her presence was a welcome distraction, so you didn’t mind it.

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers moving mindlessly around the straw. “Why, you wanna buy me a drink?” you flirted. Maybe Paige was the best at flirting, but you dabbled in it.

“I’m not opposed to that,” she smirked at you before calling the bartender over and paying for your next drink. Her confidence was disarming, and you couldn’t help but feed into it. It was certainly a way to win over a drunk girl. Here was someone who was clearly interested in you, a stark contrast to the ambiguity and distance Paige had left you with. You decided to lean into the moment, allowing yourself to be swept up in the flirtation, at least for now.

Eventually, the girl, Lena had pulled you onto the dance floor, her hand grasping yours warmly. The alcohol definitely loosened your limbs and blurred the edges of your thoughts as Lena stayed close, her own moves fluid, drawing you further into her orbit. You were living in the moment and all things Paige had seemed to be forgotten about.

You weren’t sure how much time had slipped by. You lost count of the songs, your only focus being her presence. You weren’t normally one to get so comfortable with someone so quickly, but Lena made it easy. The crowded dance floor felt like a cocoon, insulating you from any lingering thoughts.

But the spell was broken when you caught sight of a familiar face approaching through the throng of dancers. Paige was weaving her way toward you, her expression a storm of emotions that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

As she swooped in next to you, you were too shocked to move as she spoke, her hand wrapping possessively around your waist. “There you are, baby,” she said loudly enough to be heard over the music, her voice edged with a sharpness that made Lena’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Lena’s eyes flicked between you and Paige, confusion mingling. God, you felt bad, but you truly couldn’t bring yourself to say anything despite Paige not being your girlfriend or this being her place. Only Paige could make you at loss for words in a situation like this. Only Paige would put you in a situation like this.

Paige didn’t miss a beat. “I been looking for her all night.” she smiled cockily at Lena, who seemed to be just as perplexed as you were. “Come on, let’s get some air,” she urged, glancing down at you as you licked your lips in frustration. You could hear the fake joy in her voice. You barely had time to shoot an apologetic look at Lena before Paige was leading you through the crowd, yourself stumbling a bit as you barely made it.

Outside, the cool night air hit you like a splash of cold water, clearing some of the fog from your mind. You managed to wiggle out of Paige’s grasp, shooting her a look that she found amusing as you both arrived in front of the car. Your figure trailing a little behind her. She turned around, crossing her arms and looking at you with a mix of anger and something else you couldn’t quite place. Why was she upset?

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your own temper flaring now that you were away from the noise and the crowd. “You always do this shit and I’m so fucking sick of it. You stopped caring about me a long time ago, Paige. Stop trying to remind me that you exist after every fuck up because you know I’ll fall into you every time.” You weren’t thinking about what you said before you said it— you didn’t even let Paige get a word out as you watched her facial expression soften in front of you. The entire situation had sobered you up and you could feel a headache coming in.

Paige took a deep breath, her eyes still burning with jealousy. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you with her,” she admitted, her voice softer but no less intense. “It drove me crazy.”

“You avoided me the whole night— fuck, a whole two weeks! I think you can handle me trying to get in bed with a different girl.” You couldn’t fathom why she could treat you so poorly but not want to see you with anyone else. It irked you knowing she just wanted to hang onto the piece of you that still cared for her on a deeper level than sex and use it to her advantage. It hurt you.

Paige scoffed, her eyes widening before her tongue began to swarm her mouth in amusement. “Oh, that’s what this is about? The sex?”

You shook your head, becoming annoyed with the conversation and ready to storm off. “You don’t get it. You’re never gonna fucking get it.”

Paige’s eyes darted from yours to behind you for a brief moment, making you whip your head around to see a group of people looking your way, concerned looks on their faces. You both recognized the loudness of the conversation, and Paige was quick to move it. She opened the passenger door from behind her, motioning for you to get in with her hands and eyes.

You stood there, unamused. “I’m not getting in the car with you, Paige,” you said simply, a chuckle following your words. You didn’t want to because you knew being in such close proximity with her while trying to stand your ground and stay angry would not go well for you, especially with how good she looked tonight. But she always looked good— this was nothing new.

However, as you slowly met her eyes from just a few feet away, you ultimately knew just how over it was for you. “Get in the car, (y/n).” Her words were slow yet firm. You only stared at her with an unreadable expression for a few moments before you gave in with a roll of your eyes.

Paige walked around the car to the driver’s seat, twisting her keys around her fingers before opening the door and taking a seat. A silence fell between the two of you before you settled on breaking it, knowing too much of it would result in a certain type of tension. You stared at her, the night’s confusion swirling inside you. “You can’t just pretend to be my girlfriend and drag me away like that, Paige. It’s not fair.”

She looked down, her tough exterior cracking. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… I needed to talk to you.” Her voice was softer now, making your anger waver. God, she made it so hard to stay mad.

The sincerity in her tone was enough to make you gold. “You’ve had two weeks to talk to me. Why now?” you asked, trying to keep your frustration in check.

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was scared. After what I said, I didn’t know how you’d react, and then I saw you with someone else tonight and… I realized I couldn’t keep avoiding this. Avoiding you,” she explained.

What did that even mean? Paige hadn’t gotten this open or raw with you since you stopped connecting on a friend level and you wondered where this conversation was leading. “So what now?” you asked, your voice losing some of its edge.

She looked up, meeting your gaze with earnest eyes. “I miss you,” she said quietly. You’d never seen her this vulnerable. She was always so composed, so sure of herself. The admission hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Your heart ached at her words, a mix of longing and frustration battling within you. What did she miss, the sex or you? “I don’t know what you want from me,” you shrugged. Don’t give in.

“Jus’ want you,” she said simply, her eyes searching yours. “I’ve missed you so much. These past two weeks have been hell. Fuck— the past six months.” She was referring to the amount of time she’d shut you out for, and you were baffled that she had noticed. It wasn’t just some dick move of hers done unpurposely because it’s just instinct for her, there was a reason. Don’t give in.

The lick of her lips and the doe of her hooded eyes was enough to break down the last of your defenses. She studied the contemplation within you, glancing down at your bare leg before she slowly moved her hand to it. It’s like you couldn’t control the lean of your body. Paige hesitated for a moment, then closed the distance, her lips meeting yours in a desperate, needy kiss. It was like a dam breaking, all your pent up emotions pouring out in one moment.

You kissed her back, your hands finding their way to her hair, pulling her closer. Paige responded with equal fervor, her hands roaming your back and pulling on your clothes, holding you as if afraid you might disappear. The world outside the car faded away as if one nosey person couldn’t just peek their head in and see two girls making out, but it was the least of your concerns.

The small space of the car seemed to shrink even more as the intensity of your kiss deepened. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, moving over the center console to straddle Paige’s lap in the driver’s seat. Her hands immediately went to your hips, gripping them tightly as if anchoring herself to you.

Your fingers threaded through her hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a soft moan from her that sent shivers down your spine. The sensation of being so close, feeling her heartbeat against yours, was overwhelming in the best possible way. Paige’s hands roamed up your back and down to your thighs, squeezing them. If there was one thing this girl loved, it was your ass and thighs. She could never get enough of them.

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, both of you breathing heavily. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes barely open as she looked up at you, her chest heaving with the same desire you felt. But there was also a hint of confusion as to why you pulled away. “Paige,” you whispered, your voice full of uncertainty and hunger. “I can’t do this.” You were only breaking your own morals, and as much as you were feening for her right now, you knew you couldn’t keep running laps with her around a never-ending track.

Paige shook her head, licking her lips. Her expression shifted from confusion to concern. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice was desperate. “Please don’t say that,” her voice was low as she brought one hand up to cradle your face, you immediately leaning into her touch by instinct.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I can’t keep going through this with you. I can’t if it’s just going to end the same way every time.”

Her grip on your hips tightened, her eyes pleading. “It won’t. I swear it won’t.” She paused, taking a deep breath as she searched for the right words. You only looked at her as you waited for what she was going to say, biting down on your bottom lip. “I meant it when I said I loved you.” The confession hung heavy in the air, the honesty causing goosebumps to raise to your arms.

You searched her eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or insincerity, but she was serious. “You really mean it?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. It sounded pathetic to ask, but you didn’t care.

Paige nodded, her blue eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than right now.”

Without another word, you leaned in once more, your lips carefully moving in sync as it quickly went from tender to passionate. Her fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin as if committing every contour to memory as you pressed closer, Paige pulling you in more if that were even possible. Your hands moved down her chest underneath her shirt painfully slow, your fingers dwindling over her abs. You wanted this stupid shirt off.

You shifted slightly, straddling her lap more securely, your legs on either side of her as you deepened the kiss. The feeling of her touch, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, and just knowing how she felt all made you feel more alive than you had in weeks. Her lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, making you gasp softly.

“Wanna make you feel good. Okay, baby?” Paige mumbled. You only nodded in response, eager for any type of friction as you moved against her. The only thing standing between more of it was the thin piece of fabric underneath your hoisted up red dress. You were sure you left a mark of your slick on Paige’s cargos.

Pulling away, both of your breathing far from steady, Paige shifted her gaze to the side of her driver chair, reclining it back. Your mouth fell agape slightly as you realized what she wanted to do, and she only chuckled at you— a smirk not leaving her face. She still sat up as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it into the backseat with ease. Your eyes raked down her body. She then moved to lay back, yourself still in full view as you stayed sat against her in pure shock. Paige Bueckers wanted you to sit on her face in a club parking lot after confessing her love for you.

“Take those off and come up here, ma,” she urged you lowly, her eyes flickering to the bottom half of your body. One of her hands were behind her head and the other placed warmly on your upper thigh, her thumb stroking your skin way too slow as you became warmer by the second. Your breath hitched as you complied, obviously, moving your legs to one side so you could slip the fabric from under you and toss them to the passenger seat.

Paige’s eyes darkened with desire as she watched you. She’d been wanting to do this all night. The moment your underwear left your body, she guided you to straddle her face, her hands gripping your thighs firmly as she pulled you closer. You hesitated for a brief moment, the vulnerability of the position causing a flutter of nerves. You’d done this before— I mean, the first few months were just full of figuring out each other and what you liked and disliked… but in this moment, it felt different. Like a new chapter.

Paige tapped your leg softly in reassurance as she looked up at you, realizing the way you were surveying the situation. “Come here,” she murmured. Everything that came out of her mouth was dripping with craving. She needed to taste you.

You settled over her, your thighs trembling slightly as you positioned yourself. The moment her mouth made contact with you, a gasp escaped your lips, your hands instinctively gripping the back of the seat for support. Paige’s tongue moved with skill like always, her hands guiding your movements as she devoured you.

“Paige,” you moaned out, your voice breathy. “Shit, that feels so good.”

Her grip on your thighs tightened, her fingers practically digging into your skin as she increased the intensity of the way her mouth moved. She mumbled something incoherent as you bucked against her slightly, lost in the feeling as you threw your head back.

The sensations were formidable, a mix of pleasure and intimacy that made your head spin. You could feel every flick and swirl of her tongue, every gentle bite and suck that sent waves of ecstasy through your body. Your breaths came in shallow pants, your moans filling the car.

Paige pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your skin as she murmured, “I wanna hear you say it.”

You shivered at the command, your mind clouded with pleasure and need. “Say what?” you managed to gasp, your voice trembling as you looked down at her, your legs on either side of her face. What a sight.

“I wanna hear you say you love me,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race even faster than it had been.

You said it without having to think about it. “I love you, Paige, shit.” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion as she unexpectedly plunged into you. “So much.” A satisfied smile played on her lips against your throbbing cunt as she resumed her actions. The pleasure intensified as if your words had given her a new determination, each maneuver driving you closer to the edge.

Your body responded to her words and actions, the heat building between you both becoming almost unbearable. You rocked your hips in sync with her movements, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, your moans growing louder. “Paige, I’m so close,” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut so you could off a little longer.

“Look at me,” she demanded. Your eyes shot open, mouth falling open wider. “Let go for me, baby,” she encouraged, and that was all you needed. “Wanna feel you.”

With a cry, you finally let go, the orgasm washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking. Paige didn’t stop, her tongue continuing to tease and caress you through the aftershocks until you were too sensitive to take any more. You collapsed forward, your hands braced on the back of the seat as you tried to catch your breath. Paige gently guided you back to straddle her lap, her lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you came down from your high, your head resting perfectly in the crook of her neck.

After pecking every inch of your face, she leaned in for one on your mouth before you mustered the strength to push her lips away, giggling. “Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

Paige laughed along with you. “I’ll take it then,” she shrugged, licking her lips and swarming her mouth with her tongue dramatically. After the banter, you gently rested your hand on Paige’s chest as you both reveled in the moment. The fogged up windows had came in clutch so no one could see the aftermath of it all, but you pondered on the thought of anyone actually seeing the two of you in action.

“I love you too, by the way,” Paige mumbled. You looked up at her, smiling.

“Yeah, you better.”

[yvesssssssss]

omg i love all ur works so muchh! i recently came accross ur blog and I'm OBSESSED! ur writing is so beautiful, its like u completely understand people's requests :)

i have a request :,) can you please do one on how nagumo would react if u were on a date and suddenly u meet ur ex bf and he keeps on hitting on you and says hes better than ur current bf? u can add other characters if u want ilyy!!

Ex drama with nagumo

Thank you! I’m so happy you enjoy the writing! Your support means a lot!(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

You were just trying to enjoy your spicy miso ramen in peace.

Nagumo was across from you, stirring his bowl with his chopsticks like a five-year-old who didn’t want to eat vegetables. He had already stolen your boiled egg, and you were this close to stabbing him with a toothpick when—

“Y/N?”

You froze mid-bite. That voice. That familiar, irritatingly smug voice.

You turned slowly. There he was. Your ex. Walking toward your table like he was on a red carpet. Collared shirt half-unbuttoned. Sunglasses on indoors. Hair gelled within an inch of its life.

“Wow,” he said, looking you up and down. “Didn’t expect to see you. And with… this guy?”

Nagumo looked up with a mouth full of noodles. “Mmm?”

“This your boyfriend?” the ex asked, scoffing. “I mean, really? You used to have standards.”

You were about to respond, but Nagumo held up a hand and swallowed dramatically. “Wait, wait, hold on.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Babe, is this the ex that cried when you beat him at Mario Kart?”

Your ex’s jaw dropped. “That was ONE TIME.”

“Also the one who thought Naruto was a real person?”

“OKAY, WE ALL HAVE MOMENTS.”

Nagumo leaned on the table, smirking. “And this is the guy who said ‘I could totally take a trained assassin in a fight’… while watching a movie about trained assassins… in tears.”

Your ex turned beet red. “At least I’m not some sketchy dude who carries around a Swiss Army knife like a pocket-sized serial killer.”

Nagumo’s eye twitched. “First of all, it’s a multi-tool. Second of all…”

He pulled it out of his jacket and dramatically flicked out twelve blades at once like some circus performer doing a death-defying trick.

“...you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

Your ex slowly backed away like he’d just seen a raccoon with a switchblade.

“Y/N,” he said, hand over his heart. “If you ever want to come back to someone normal—”

“Bro, I watched you cry because your croissant didn’t have enough filling,” you deadpanned.

He fled the scene.

Nagumo sat back, proud, blades still twinkling in the light. “Sooo... does this mean I win?”

“You win nothing.”

He grinned. “Except your heart.”

You threw a napkin at him. He tried to block it with his multi-tool. He missed.

Taglist: @shenwi @astronomyloveraster @yokaistirfry @shineinouzen15 @cjafjatkstke @starizzm @imightgoinsane @istillremembermissamericana @ilovewhattatops @elorajelaaa @takenbyacircle @ilylmwwifys @empty-void-of-dreams

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Drop a comment or send me an ask if you'd like to be added/removed!

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[starsjulia]

not built for this // part two

a/n : thank you for all the love on the last one, you can read part one here, enjoy my lovelies! i’m also thinking about making a final and third part so if that’s something you’d like to see please do let me know, my inbox is always open!!

warnings : bullying, cyber bullying.

“Bet she only got that score ‘cause she’s autistic.”

“Yeah, isn’t she meant to be, like, thick?”

“Nah, she’s prolly just revises cus she can’t do nothing else”

Your stomach twists. You stare down at your English test, the red-inked “9” in the corner blurring in your vision. You should be happy. You were happy. Or at least you had been for the five minutes before the results were handed out to the rest of the class.

Someone snickers. “Neek.”

Your grip on your pen tightens.

“She probably sits there memorizing dictionaries or some shit—”

”—Or maybe her mum paid for her grade.”

A crumpled piece of paper hits the back of your head. You exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to stay still. If you turn around, if you look at them, you know you’ll either scream or burst into tears.

You’re not going to cry in front of them.

Not again.

⸻

At break, you don’t even bother trying to sit with anyone. You go straight to the toilets, locking yourself in a cubicle, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor.

Your phone buzzes.

Mum.

You exhale shakily before pressing call.

“Hey, love. Everything okay?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. The walls feel like they’re closing in.

“Can you pick me up?” Your voice cracks.

Leah sighs on the other end. “What happened now?”

“Mum, please.” You clench your jaw, willing yourself not to cry.

Leah hesitates. “My love i’m at training, what do you want me to do?”

Silence.

A sharp knock on the cubicle door makes you jump.

“Oi, you in there?” A voice outside sneers. “Hiding again, are we?”

Your throat tightens.

“I have to go.” You end the call before Leah can respond.

⸻

Third period is even worse.

You try your hardest to focus, really, you do. You keep your head down, do the work, but it doesn’t matter.

Halfway through the lesson, you use your timeout card to leave. You just need a second to breathe. But when you come back, something feels off.

Your bag.

You reach inside and…

Your pencil case is gone. So is a revision guide.

Instead, there’s an empty crisp packet and some scrunched-up tissue.

Your hands tremble.

“Everything okay?” the teacher asks.

No.

No, everything is not okay.

But you don’t say anything. You just clench your fists, sit down, and stare blankly at the board.

The girls behind you giggle.

⸻

By the time you get home, you feel like you’re going to burst.

You throw your bag down, heading straight for the kitchen where Leah is sorting Jamie’s school things.

“Mum, I got a nine on my English test.”

Leah turns, her expression softening. “Did you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Leah’s smile is genuine. “That’s amazing, hun. I knew you could do it.” She pulls you into a hug. You hold on tightly.

For a moment, everything feels okay.

Then your phone buzzes. Again.

Leah frowns. ��That thing’s been going off all day.”

“It’s nothing.” You shove it in your pocket.

Jamie, sitting at the kitchen table, raises a brow. “Who even texts you that much?”

“Shut up, Jamie.”

Leah folds her arms. “It’s not like—” She hesitates. “I just mean, that’s a lot of notifications.”

“It’s fine.”

Leah studies you for a second but doesn’t push.

Later, when you’re in the shower, she walks past the kitchen counter where your phone sits, screen lighting up over and over again. Her stomach tightens.

She glances up the stairs, making sure you’re still in the bathroom.

Then she picks it up.

And unlocks it.

The first thing she sees is a group chat.

She clicks on it.

Her stomach drops.

⸻

Screenshots. Photos. Messages.

Leah scrolls, her hands shaking.

“How is ur mum so hot but ur so ugly??”

“bet u can’t even make eye contact reading this lmao”

“Why doesn’t ur mum just send u to a sped school?? No one wants u here”

“Nice lanyard you weirdo”

Her breath catches in her throat.

She keeps scrolling.

Texts from unknown numbers.

More abuse. More hate.

Her pulse pounds in her ears.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until a tear drips onto the screen.

Then the bathroom door opens.

You walk out, hair damp, and freeze when you see her standing there, phone clutched in her hand, face pale with fury.

“(Y/N)…what the fuck is this?”

Your blood runs cold. “Mum—”

“How long has this been going on?”

Silence.

“how long?”

You swallow hard. “A while.”

“And you didn’t TELL me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It really does matter!”

You look away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Leah stares at you, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m calling the school.”

⸻

The meeting is tense.

Leah sits across from the headteacher and your head of year, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She slams the phone onto the table. “Explain this.”

The headteacher shifts uncomfortably. “Miss Williamson—”

“She told you she was being bullied. I told you. you know dam well that my daughter comes into this office almost everyday because your classrooms are unbearable for her. And you did NOTHING.”

“We were handling—”

“Handling it?!” Leah’s voice cracks. “Are you fucking joking?”

You shrink in your seat, your face burning.

The headteacher clears his throat. “Miss Williamson, we understand you’re upset, but—”

“You don’t understand SHIT.” Leah’s hands tremble. “She’s not coming back here. Ever.”

Your breath hitches. “Mum….”

“No.” Leah turns to you, eyes softening. “I should’ve done this a long time ago, love.”

You look down, blinking rapidly. “I can handle it.”

Leah exhales sharply. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You bite your lip. “I know I’m not easy….”

“Don’t you ever say that.” Leah’s voice breaks. “I love you more than anything. Do you hear me?”

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

Leah pulls you into a hug.

“You’re coming home. And we’re going to figure this out, alright?”

⸻

Later that night, Beth comes over.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls you into the warmest hug you’ve ever felt.

“You know you’re perfect, right?” she murmurs.

You let out a weak laugh. “Doubt it.”

Beth nudges you. “They’re just jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “Doubt that too.”

Beth squeezes your hand. “Well, I don’t.”

For the first time in forever, you believe her.

And for the first time in forever—

You feel safe.

⸻

[tacobacoyeet]

not the time | patrick zweig x reader, art donaldson x reader

a/n: few things to say. first of all, i got way too into writing this and i don't know if i like it or not yet, but we'll see. secondly, i gave up after i was done and decided not to proofread. oops! if you're like me and you like to listen to music while you read, i suggest loyalty by kendrick lamar ft. rihanna. yes, i'm linking it. finally, not related, but please send me requests or asks or whatever! just fill my inbox with literally anything!

warnings: SMUT 18+, cheating, cursing, everyone is messy, i'm still not entirely sure if this fully makes sense, not proofread!

It was just the four of you. You, Art, Patrick, and Tashi.

Not in some perfect, effortless way. Just the four of you… together. Training, sharing meals in the Stanford Athletics Dining Hall, fucking around, orbiting around each other in ways that weren’t always easy to define.

You were with Art, Tashi was with Patrick. That was just the way it was. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t complicated.

Patrick had always been technically better than Art. He had the trophies to prove it: from the little stuff back at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy to the Junior US Open win. He had the natural talent, the aggression, the game that always just looked effortless. But Art? Art was the workhorse. He stayed longer on the courts, pushed himself harder, chased an invisible finish line, constantly. That’s why he, unlike Patrick, had chosen to play college tennis before going pro. He was convinced he needed to be better, not that he was too good to have his name attached to a university.

Tashi? She was the untouchable one. The best of all of you, of everyone, really. She was destined for something bigger, something far beyond your little group and Stanford and all of the stupid, tangled emotions that none of you had the words for yet.

And then there was you. Stuck somewhere in the middle of it all.

You and Art had just happened. No grand declarations, no dramatic tension. You were together because it just made sense. You understood each other. The way you both trained like you had something to prove. The way you both felt like you had to fight for space in a world that didn’t quite want to give it to you.

Patrick and Tashi were different. They were volatile, all sharp edges and unspoken resentments. Their constant, tiny arguments were what made them who they were—small, stupid things that started over footwork critiques and ended with Patrick trying to sigh, suck it up, and apologize while Tashi kicked him out of her dorm. But they understood each other in a way that made sense, too. She was the only one who truly made him feel challenged. He was the only one who ever gave her the chance to get angry.

It should have been simple.

But sometimes, Art looked at Tashi in a way that made your chest tighten. Sometimes, when he spoke to her, his voice softened in a way it didn’t with you. And Patrick… he never said anything, but you could always feel the way he looked at you, like he was trying to burn you into his memory just so he could pretend he had you. 

You ignored it. Until you couldn’t, anymore.

---

“And now… your 2002, 2005, and 2006 NCAA Women’s Tennis Champions. Give it up for STANDFORD TENNIS!”

You and the rest of the team step onto the court, several of you waving to the crowd, smiling. Tashi doesn’t. It wasn’t abnormal for her to do that, but what was a little off was the way her eyes scanned the crowd for Patrick, gaze steely as she noticed the empty seat next to Art. Your boyfriend, Art, who was too busy frowning at his phone to look down and blow a kiss at you like he normally did at your matches. That’s when the feeling of impending doom started to fester in your gut. But you ignored it. Like you always did.

Not much later, you’re watching from the bench as Tashi absolutely demolishes Sally What’s-Her-Face from Pepperdine. She’s making it look easy, like she’s barely even thinking about it. But you know her better than that. She’s not thinking about it at all.

You can almost sense it before it happens—the way she doesn’t catch the barest hint of spin on the other girl’s ball until the last second, the way she tries to overcorrect mid-swing, the sickening snap that seems to echo around the court as she falls to the ground, clutching her knee and crying in a way that is entirely foreign for someone as stone-cold as Tashi Duncan.

You can feel the bile rising in your throat, the nausea in your stomach again. But before you can rush to confront your friend, your boyfriend is on the court, resting her head in his lap. You would’ve laughed at how stupid he looked hurdling over the net if your head wasn’t spinning so much. Where the hell is Patrick? You clench your fists, forcing yourself to breathe. 

Now is not the time.

---

Later that night, you’re standing in the corner of the sports therapy room. You may as well have not been, though. Tashi had Art. He sat by her side like an obedient little chihuahua, convinced he was being a guard dog when he really just looked fucking desperate. But you didn’t say anything. You just watched him. The way his jaw was clenched, his eyes trained on the ground like he had a million things to say to her but no clue how to say them.

After a while, Patrick appears in the doorway. You watch Tashi’s face harden as she sees him open his mouth to speak. 

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Out. Out. O—”

“Tashi, Tashi listen! Please! ”

“OUT!” You would’ve been taken aback by the anger in her voice if Art didn’t open his mouth next.

“Patrick, get the fuck out!”

You’re dumbfounded for a moment as you look at Art, in disbelief that he was even capable of portraying anger to that level. It wasn’t just anger—it was something else. Something cold and dangerous in Art’s voice that you had never heard before. Patrick looks around the room, eyes wide. And then he swallows, jaw tight, before he turns and walks away.

You, ever the pacifist, always the one to smooth things over, couldn’t stop yourself from following him. Patrick might have been a lot of things— arrogant, reckless, a complete pain in the ass— but you had never seen him like that before. So… defeated.

He was already halfway down the hall when you caught up.

"Patrick."

He didn’t stop.

"Patrick, slow down—"

"Don’t." His voice was low, rough.

You reach for his arm. He jerks away.

"I don’t need the fucking pity, okay?" He turned to you then, eyes flashing. "I already got my ass handed to me in there, I don’t need you coming out here to make me feel worse."

"I’m not trying to make you feel worse," you said softly.

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

"I just—" You hesitate. You didn’t even know what you wanted. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Patrick let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Yeah? That’s fucking rich, coming from you."

Your stomach twisted. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Patrick exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. Then, after a long, charged pause—

"Forget it."

But you didn’t want to forget it.

"No. Say it."

Patrick’s jaw clenches. He takes a step closer, the air between you charged, suffocating.

“You never even noticed, did you?” he hisses.

You inhaled sharply, throat tight. Of course you fucking noticed.

"Patrick—"

"No, fuck it." He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I’m supposed to be with Tashi, you’re supposed to be with Art, but it was never really like that, was it?"

The words settled between you, heavy and true.

Because you had felt it. That unspoken pull, the lingering stares, the what-ifs that neither of you had ever dared to touch. But now was not the time.

“Patrick, you can’t just—”

“No.”

And then suddenly, you weren’t thinking at all. It was instinct, impulse, desperation. One second, you were standing there, breath shallow, and the next—

You were kissing him.

Or maybe he was kissing you.

You didn’t know who moved first. All you knew was the way his hands grabbed at you, like he was starving, like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime. The way his lips crushed against yours, deep and desperate, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your lungs. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t careful. He wasn’t careful. And after that? The idea of going back was nothing but a childish fantasy.

---

12 years later, that moment is what’s replaying in your mind as you stare out the window, watching the clouds unleash a torrential downpour that might be the only natural phenomenon that could replicate the turmoil in your brain. The rain slams against the hotel window, drowning out the distant hum of the city. The room is too small, too dimly lit, but you don’t mind. You’ve stayed in worse.

Patrick is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, elbows on his knees. His hair is damp from the shower, his skin still flushed from running drills to prepare for the first round of the challenger. He hasn’t looked at you since he walked in.

You exhale, rubbing a hand over your face. You’re so fucking tired.

"Are you just gonna sit there all night?" you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

Nothing.

You swallow hard. Try again.

"Patrick."

"What?" His voice is clipped, irritated.

"Talk to me."

"About what?" He finally lifts his head, his eyes shadowed. "About how you’re the only reason we can afford this fucking room?"

The words cut, sharp and deliberate.

You stare at him, the exhaustion settling into your bones.

"I have never—"

"You don’t have to say it," he mutters, shaking his head. "I see it every time you sign another contract. Every time you win a match. Every time you pay for something I should be paying for."

Your stomach tightens. His failures are eating him alive, and instead of facing them, he’s turned them into a weapon—aimed at you.

"I have never once thrown that in your face," you say, voice trembling.

"Yeah?" Patrick’s laugh is hollow. "Then why do I feel like you’re the only reason I have a roof over my head?"

You freeze. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. It’s not like this is the first argument. It may as well have been the thousandth. It starts with something small. It always does. A forgotten errand, a passive-aggressive comment, a new pack of cigarettes. Suddenly, you feel exhausted. Sick of sitting down, apologizing, letting it happen.

"Maybe because you won’t let me be anything but the enemy," you whisper.

Patrick blinks, caught off guard, but you don’t wait for his response.

You turn sharply, grab your jacket, and storm toward the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" he calls after you.

You don’t answer. You just go.

---

The rain is relentless, soaking you through your clothes, chilling you to the bone. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you can’t be there anymore. The lighted sign of the Best Western you had bought a room in flickers behind you as you walk further away. You’re not sure how long you’re walking, but soon enough, there are more cars, more buildings, more streetlights. After a while, the metallic gold of the Ritz-Carlton sign catches your eye, the white light from behind the glass doors illuminating a figure standing beneath the awning. 

You can’t help but groan internally at your luck as your eyes lock with those unmistakable, piercing baby blues. Art fucking Donaldson. He’s leaning against a pillar, cigarette between his fingers, the ember burning bright in the pitch-black night. It’s a habit that Tashi always used to chastise Patrick for. You can’t help but wonder when Art picked it up. If that’s the only thing he’s been doing behind Tashi’s back. 

You stop in your tracks, your chest rising and falling far too fast. He exhales, smoke clouding his face for a moment as he watches you. And then—

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Your stomach twists. You weren’t expecting to see him at a shitty little challenger like this one. He was supposed to be a big star. A ‘Game Changer’. He was supposed to be way past playing matches like this one, New Rochelle in the middle of Dumbfuck, Nowhere. Phil’s Tire-Town, or something. It’s not like Patrick was good enough for anything better, but Art sure as hell was. Or at least, he was supposed to be.

“Where’s Tashi?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

Art closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling as he rubs a hand over his jaw. “Not here.”

That’s all he says. But it’s enough. 

Your heart is beating far faster than it should be. Your hands are shaking. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold, the walk, or him.

“I hate you,” you hiss. But he sees through you instantly. 

“Then tell me you don’t still think about me.”

You can’t. He knows you can’t. His eyes bore into you. Normally, you’d shrink under his gaze. He’s seeing far deeper into you than you want him to. But maybe the flare in confidence from your argument with Patrick is what’s supporting you. Maybe it’s the ringing in your ears, the pain behind Art’s eyes, or the burning of your skin despite the fierce cold. You’re not sure. But it doesn’t matter. 

There’s a beat.

And then suddenly, you’re on him.

Or maybe he’s on you. You don’t know who moves first, only that one second you’re standing there, fists clenched, and the next you’re colliding—his hands in your hair, yours fisting his hoodie, mouths crashing together like neither of you can breathe without this.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s twelve fucking years of resentment and longing and need colliding all at once.

Art groans against your mouth, pressing you back against the cool brick of the pillar, hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to prove something. You arch into him, gasping when his lips move to your jaw, then your throat, teeth scraping against your pulse.

"You gonna regret this in the morning?" he mutters, voice rough.

"Shut up," you breathe, dragging him back up to your lips.

He doesn’t argue.

His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, sliding under your soaked shirt, fingers tracing the dip of your spine. Yours slip under his hoodie, pushing it up, needing to feel him, needing to remind yourself that this is real.

You don’t stop.

Not when you sneak your way up to his hotel room, avoiding the other patrons. Not when you're in the elevator and he's sucking hickeys into your neck that you'll have to hide from Patrick. Not when he lifts you, dropping you onto the mattress, not when he crawls over you, pressing you into the sheets, not when his hands slide between your thighs, gripping, teasing, pulling a whimper from your throat.

Not even when he pauses, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard like he’s trying to convince himself this is a mistake.

"Tell me to stop," he rasps.

You don’t.

You won’t.

Instead, you drag him down, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, whispering his name like a prayer. It takes barely a moment for both of you to bare yourselves to each other, clothes tossed around the room without a second thought. Art doesn't waste time. He wasted the last 12 years. He wasn't going to waste another minute.

Nothing about this is gentle. He’s biting his way across your collarbone, up the column of your throat, behind your ear. Your fingers are tangled in his silky, golden locks, tugging at them in tandem with the rhythm of the soft gasps and moans he’s drawing from you. His hair is short, now. For a split second, you mourn the messy mop of curls that graced his head 12 years ago, but your thoughts are quickly drawn away when he’s grabbing your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him. 

“Last chance,” he pants. “Tell me to stop now, and we leave like this never happened.”

You glare at him, gripping his hair a little tighter. “Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life trying to forget about me? About Patrick? Trying to forget how you decided the puppy crush you had on Tashi was more important than your best fucking friend?” 

His face hardens at your whispered remarks, each word pushing the knife deeper into his chest. But he wasn’t that stupid. Not anymore. “No,” he frowns. “Fuck, no. I’m never letting you go again.”

You don’t believe him, but you nod anyway. “Okay, then.” 

You aren’t sure what you were expecting him to feel like after 12 years. He used to be soft, always drawing a line before he ever got too rough with you. But being a lapdog for this long had resulted in far too many pent-up emotions, and you were on the receiving end of them. 

It almost gave you whiplash, the contrast of his actions. He fucked into you with an animalistic pace, hand squeezing your throat just enough, but his lips were by your ear, face nestled against your neck as he whispered praises and sweet nothings in your ear. 

“You’re perfect. You always were. Should’ve been mine.”

It’s hard for you to focus on his words because you’re too focused on how his free hand has made its way down to your core, the pads of his middle and ring finger rubbing your clit with so much speed that you’re convinced he’s on drugs. Maybe he was hiding that from Tashi too.

You’re so lost in the sensations that you almost miss it. Almost. You wish you had.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

It makes your eyes fly open. The last thing you wanted to feel right now was guilt, and you knew that if he was feeling it, then it was only a matter of time before he projected enough for it to infect you too.

“Absolutely not,” you growl. “Shut your stupid mouth and keep fucking me.”

He listens. He thrusts his hips harder, faster, breathy moans of your name falling off of his lips with the ragged beauty of a waterfall. He moves his hand off your throat and into your hair, tugging with enough force to rip a cry from you. You’re so close, way faster than you wanted to be. But he won’t have it.

“Art,” you whimper. “Art, please, I’m so close, I—”

“No, baby, hold on. Just a little longer, please. You deserve it.”

He wanted to prolong your pleasure, give you the well-built orgasm you deserved. It was the least he could do, after all. If you wouldn’t let him apologize with his words, then he would make it apparent with his actions. Besides, he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time he’d ever have you beneath him. He had to make it count. And he did.

Soon enough, he’s fucking you through your orgasm, a hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries. God, he’d do anything to hear those noises every night, in his own bed at home, loud enough to make you go hoarse. But that would have to wait. For tonight, he’d take you just as you are. The fact that you were there, that you were really there was more than enough for him. He’d worry about the bits and pieces of it all at another time.

A few hours later, you sneak back into your hotel room. Patrick is dead asleep, his snores filling the small room. You don’t bother to cover Art’s hickeys. Patrick could use the reminder that you could do better. If he wanted to assume everything you did for him was from a place of pity and arrogance, then so be it. There was no reason for you to put effort into trying to pacify him anymore.

---

A couple of days later, the sun shines brightly down on the court of the Phil’s Tire Town Challenger. You make your way into the stands, heading for your usual front and center seat—and that’s when you see her. Honestly, you should’ve expected it. Tashi was Art’s coach, after all. Of course she’d sit in the spot with the best vantage point of the action.

She turns her head, her chocolate eyes locking with yours. That’s when you catch a glimpse of the small reddish-purple splotches just peeking out from the pristine white collar of her button-down dress. You can’t help the way the corners of your mouth curve up into the barest hint of a smirk. She glances down for a split second, clearly noticing the not-yet-faded mark that lingers on your collarbone, not entirely hidden by your clothes. Her eyes shoot back up to yours, a matching expression of mutual agreement on her features as you take the seat next to her.

Neither of you say anything. For now, both of you return your eyes to the court as Art and Patrick get announced, walking onto the court. They both look up at the stands. Patrick’s the first to acknowledge you and Tashi sitting next to each other. A Cheshire cat grin crawls its way onto his face, and he turns his head back to look at Art, who meets his gaze with a simple upward twitch of his lips.

Tashi’s fingers brush your hand as she grips the armrest. Your eyes meet again, both of your gazes charged with a little bit of electricity and a whole lot of sex. There’s a statement hanging in the air between you: ‘Yeah, I fucked your husband.’ There’s nothing particularly malicious about it— far from it, honestly. It’s more like an opening to a contract. A trade agreement. But, you’ll hash out the details later. 

Now was not the time.

[voxmortuus]

Hi baby. Saw the prompt list. 😎 May I have #5 ☆ { calling } them late at night to come over for Jax Teller, please?

Thank you. ♥

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Jax Teller x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ Sons of Anarchy ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 1.1k ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Fluff | Smut | Jax and his filthy mouth (language) | Foreplay | P-i-V | Pull-out Method | More fluff | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ This was found through Google and is not my GIF, if this is your GIF or know whose it is, please inbox me, so I can credit the creator. Thank you! ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

It was just one of those nights, there's only so much scrolling you can do before things become repetitive, and boring in your feeds. Flipping between Tumblr, Reddit, and Facebook, things were becoming boring, and nothing was helping you fall asleep. Tapping the side of your phone, you flip through old photos, smiling now and again looking over Jax's face. Sitting up in bed, you check the time, 12:24 a.m. Sighing, you decide to give it a shot, chances are Jax was up anyway, so why not.

Scrolling down and finding his name, you hit the call button, and wait. Ringing you groan, maybe he was --

"Hey, Darlin'. You alright? What's up?" he asks, you can tell there's a smile on his face.

"Hey, Baby. I know it's kinda late, but would you mind coming over... I can't sleep... and I could use the company." you bite your lip a bit.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be over in 15." he stated.

After the brief conversation and a quick I love you and a hangup, you go unlock your door, knowing he'll lock it when he gets here.

Hearing the motorcycle approach, and the engine turn off, you feel this bubble of excitement pulse through you. It was a matter of time before you heard your front door open, close, lock, and the sound of boots headed your way.

Peeking his head in, he looks over you, and you smile, moving over you pat the empty space in your bed and gesture for him to join you. Taking the hint, he makes his way over, slipping off his vest and coat, tossing his hat on the table, and kicking off his boots and socks, he slips into bed.

"Your pants... your shirt... are in the way." you smirk.

He chuckles and standing back up he takes them off, dropping them to the floor before climbing back in under the covers. You scoot yourself closer, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close.

"Can't sleep?" he asked you.

Nodding, your fingers move over his chest as you look up at him and smile. "Thank you for coming over."

"It's nothin' Darlin'. I've always told you I'm a call away." he kisses the top of your head.

A soft smile graces your lips as you scoot a little closer to him and let out a small satisfied smile. But you seem you can't keep your hands from wandering on him. Slipping under the blanket, you keep your gaze on him as you move over his boxers. Smiling, you bite at your lip and kiss him sweetly.

A slight chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls you closer to him, his hand roaming your figure as he moves you to lay on top of him, holding you close, his hips move upward a bit, kissing you deeply, and he slips the shirt from your body and tosses it to the floor along with his clothes.

Pressing yourself against him, your hands move up along his sides and find your way to get tangled in that love head of golden locks. The kissing gets a little heavier between you two, the touching, how you press your hips against him, feeling him harden against you. You move your hand between your legs as you grip him through his boxers. He groans against your lips as he grips your breast, pulling you closer, and kissing you deeper.

The kissing, the touching, the grunts, and the groans were enough to send you into a feral mind. Moving his boxers down, you slip him right between your lips, your hips press yourself down, pressing him deeper inside you. You both end up groaning in unison.

His grip on your hips is tight, his fingers pressing hard against your flesh, indenting as he thrusts upward just enough to finish that last little bit you wanted to slip inside you. The streetlights are the only thing illuminating the room, your shadow cast on the walls. Looking over, he watches your shadow as you brace yourself against his chest and begin to move up and down on his cock.

Holding your thighs in his hands, he watches the way you move against him, your hands pressing into his chest as he moves his own up your body, feeling your flesh under his hands was a sort of high for him. He presses a hand against your chest, between your breasts, as he slowly guides your motions as he thrusts upward.

As you are being guided with a hand on your chest, one on your hip, and his cock between your legs, your head falls back as you let out a loud, long, drawn-out moan. Your body trembles as you pick up on the sounds, the smells, the way the air tastes. Listening to him grunt and your own moans fill the air. It's all palpable. Erotic. Addicting.

The way you both work against and with each other, it sends these shockwaves through both of you, a genuine quickie, you feel yourself building, but of course, it doesn't help with his own buildup, you can tell in his tone, in how frequent his groans become, in how his breath smells. Leaning forward, you moan against his lips. And that's when he tells you to finish with him. He lifts you up, and you grip his cock as he works your bud.

Before you know it, your whole body trembles, feeling those hot ribbons of white pour against you. Whimpering and trembling against him, you begin to pant. Achieving your desired goal, he leans against the pillow but grabs something to clean you up.

There was hardly anything spoken between you two. But you lay there, holding him close, you look up at him as he stares down at you.

"You feel good." you chuckle.

"What even was that?" he chuckles.

"I think it's called a quickie. You should be used to those." you poke.

"Ohh, is that what that was? I like those... but next time... we do a longie... not a quickie," he smirks.

"I'll play with your longie." you chuckle.

"No, Darlin', we call it a cock, longie.... please no." he chuckles. "Besides, I like the way the word cock escapes your lips." he smirked.

"You like your cock between my lips Jax..." you joust.

Gasping he chuckles. "That is true... gotta say, you're a good cocksucker." he winks.

The night continued into the morning, and eventually, you had both fallen asleep. His arms wrapped around you, his face in your hair, and you clung to him like your entire life depended on it. You were glad you called him over, much needed, and the sleep was much better with him there.

[maidragoste]

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

part of the universe of the parent trap au

I hope you all like it because I really enjoyed writing this!

Please, if you liked it, don't hesitate to leave a like, comment and reblog because that motivates me to keep writing 🥰🥰💖💖

I remind you that my inbox is open if you want to send me ideas for more drabbles from this December special 🤗💖

Anyway I hope you have a good read!

You walked into the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate. One for you and one for Aegon. You raised an eyebrow as you noticed that your stocking, which had been empty just a few minutes ago, now looked like it was about to overflow. Of course, he took advantage of your trip to the kitchen to put your gifts in. You felt your heart warm at the gesture. For a moment you couldn't help but feel bad for only giving him one gift.

"I knew we should have put a limit on gifts," you said as you handed him one of the mugs and sat down next to him.

It's the night before Christmas and the two of you are finishing wrapping the last of the gifts sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. Aegon took twice as long to wrap but you didn't care. It was funny to see how dedicated he was to this task, sometimes he seemed so focused and stuck his tongue out without realizing it. In the end, his wrappings looked more precise than yours.

"I'm just making up for lost years" he replied with a smile. You knew he didn't mean to make you feel bad but again you couldn't help but feel guilty for disappearing for so long. It wasn't his fault that things with Aemond had ended badly. "Hey, we talked about it, we're fine" he reminded you pushing his shoulder against yours.

"Silly, you'll make me throw everything away" It was obvious you weren't seriously complaining from the affection in your voice and the way you looked at him with shining eyes. "I'm sure there are more than two gifts in there," you said looking at your stocking again.

"Shhh, just let me spoil you," he said before taking some hot chocolate. He looked at you confused when he heard the distinctive sound of the camera clicking. You just smiled at him before showing him your phone. He was there with a cream mustache on his face. He let out an exaggerated groan and watched with a small smile as you covered your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing out loud, probably to avoid waking Aemon up. "Just don't upload it anywhere, you'll ruin my image."

But you both knew you would never post it anywhere just like he could never upload all the pictures he had with you and Aemon. When his family asked him how your holidays were Aegon couldn’t proudly show them the pictures Laenor had taken with his phone when Aemon, him, and you were making snowmen or when the three of you were baking cookies. That was the deal if he wanted to stay in your life. No one in his family could know that you two were back in touch. Much less Aemond. So you and Aemon became Aegon’s secret. He thought he would become your secret too but you surprised him by inviting him to spend Christmas with you and your family.

"I don't think this will ruin your image. You look cute. You should upload it on your Tinder." The instant the words left your mouth you wanted to hit yourself. Did you just flirt with your ex-brother-in-law?

“I deleted Tinder,” Aegon said, trying to focus on wrapping the gifts and ignoring the way his heart raced at a simple compliment from you. He should be used to the effect you had on him by now, after all, he’s been pining for you since before you were with Aemond.

“Why? Did you meet someone special?” you asked curiously.

You were surprised that he hadn’t told you before and you couldn’t help but feel weird at the idea of ​​him being with someone. You assumed it was because you thought you knew everything that was going on in Aegon’s life like he knew everything about you. Ever since you two got back in touch you talked every day, so you were surprised that he didn’t tell you that he had met someone.

“I don’t feel alone anymore so I don’t need it” Aegon replied telling the half-truth because he couldn’t tell you that you were the special person who had returned to his life. He wouldn’t let his feelings for you ruin things between him and you. As long as he could still be in your life and Aemon’s then he would settle for being your friend.

“It’s good that you don’t feel alone anymore but I don’t think you should give up on love,” you said “Who knows maybe next year you’ll find your special person and spend Christmas with them”

Aegon looked up from the gift he was wrapping to look into your eyes. You couldn't decipher what was in his eyes but his gaze was intense and it made you feel nervous for a moment. Not because you wouldn't like him looking at you like that but because you could already feel like you would spend the rest of the night without being able to sleep because you were thinking about how he looked at you.

“Maybe” he simply said, trying not to get his hopes up when he saw how you suddenly blushed.

What neither of you knew was that you weren't wrong. Next year you would both stop hiding your feelings for each other and next Christmas you would be celebrating together but this time as a couple. You and Aegon would be wrapping gifts again, only it would take longer to finish because Aegon would distract you by kissing you.

Taglist Parent Trap

@papichulo120627   @apollonshootafar   @jasminecosmic99  @diorchaiamet @partypoison00   @camy85  @rebelliuna   @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @savagemickey03 @nyenye @krokietino @natashaobo @lizlovecraft @aleemendoza2425-blog @snh96 @angeliod @thegirlnextdoorssister @targaryenmoony

@queen190 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fan-goddess @saltyllamakidwombat @love-romancebooks @ilovetaquitosmmmm @justsumtuffstuff @afro-hispwriter @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @marytargaryen @namelesslosers @rosey1981 @joyouart @starkjedi @Nockerin @snowprincesa1 @ichanelvxgue @watercolorskyy @Delaneyquill @avitute   @ExoticCow @tita004 @cicaspair418 @crystal-faith @Peakybutterfly @st4rhrts @jojoesq @Sakuramochi1921 @alisoncdariel @fudge13

hotd masterlist

[fraugwinska]

If it’s okay, can you do Alastor x Reader where Alastor catches you relapsing after a fight with him? If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it. Just wanted some comfort for what I’m going through. You’re also a very good writer! Keep up the great work! xx

Hey anon - I hope you are doing well. I couldn't let this one sit too long in my inbox... Whatever you are going through: I hope this will help you with a bit of comfort. (I do hope I didn't misinterpret your ask...) I send you the biggest hug, my dearest! <3 TW:Self Harm,Depression,Angst - Minors DNI - 1.3k words

You were doing so well. So, so well.

Arguments with Alastor occurred from time to time, but you had done so well in not letting them become full-blown fights. His rationale and your restraint had always managed to hold the worst at bay and settle any troubles with a few deep breaths, calm words and a compromise. It was something you were hugely proud of, something you had never been able to do before, and with him - you finally seemed to manage.

But now, after a tirade of harsh words, hurtful remarks and slammed doors you are alone in your room, curled up in a bed that feels much too big and streaks of cold tears on your cheeks. Immediately after you stormed out Alastor's radio tower you regretted your tone, regretted what you said, the way you got irrationally upset and how you provoked him - just to hurt him. You were unfair, cruel even, and the worst part was you didn't mean a single thing you said in the heat of the argument. Of course, Alastor said some choice words to you too, nasty things said in cold calmness, but only in reaction to your emotionally charged onslaught. And it didn't change the fact that you had done him wrong, over a fucking triviality that spun out of control.

It doesn't change the fact that the feelings and thoughts you feared slowly return, thoughts of your inadequacy, your worthlessness, your shortcomings all coming back into your head in one big punch of guilt and insecurity. Spiraling, you feel yourself getting more and more tense, like a pressure cooker without a valve, ready to burst. Your chest hurts - no, everything hurts: Your chest, your arms, your head, your heart.

You had done so well.

But you are desperate, panicked - you've pushed the one person away that was able to ground you, the only one that could make you feel safe and strong enough to withstand this urge, this need to hurt, to release. You bury your nails in your thigh, but it is far from enough. He must hate you now, and could you blame him? No, no you couldn't, and you push yourself off the bed, almost frantic.

Release, release, release - where is it? The shame you hid when you first moved into the hotel, the valve you had used so often to momentarily drain yourself from this burdening pain, the tool you had to use because you weren't reborn in hell with the fortune of sharp talons.

The loose floorboard creaks under your erratic steps. Ah. There. Hidden under your feet, untouched for so long. You start to cry again as you kneel down, lifting the panel. You feel like a failure.

Sorry, I am so sorry, your head chants as you reach for it with trembling hands, please just let it be a little less, just a tiny, little...

"Darling..."

You freeze. His voice is quiet, tune- and toneless echoing from behind you. It sends a new shiver through your tense, quivering body. Your hand hovers over the small object but you can't move it away, eyes squeezed shut in defeat. Your brain races, thinking of anything to say but coming up empty.

"My sweetling, whatever you're looking for under there...", he continues slowly, softly, each step of his dressing shoes against the parquet resounding painfully loud in your ears. You're so mortified by him catching you in the act that the tight coil in you seems ready to snap. "...will not do you any good."

He halts when when he is next to you, kneeling down. You feel his shoulder brush your back as he lays a clawed hand on yours and gently pulls it away from the hole in the floor. Your shoulders begin to shake with ragged sobs and his tender touch on your cheek prompts you to tilt your head, face hot, and to look him into his eyes that seem both understanding and sad.

"Harming yourself will only make you hate yourself more than you regrettably already do."

You try to breathe, but fail miserably, choking on the air around you. How could you justify what you were about to do, how could you hurt him again like this, with this action, with this thoughts, after everything you both have worked for? You had done so well - Why didn't you have it more under control, like you should?

"I'm sorry, A-Alastor... I'm sorry, s-so sorry, please..."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, steady embrace. One hand comes up, stroking your hair in tender movements, shushing you quietly as he lets you sob into his shoulder. The longer he holds you the easier it gets to draw deep breathes, until you finally manage to draw in the air that your body lacked so much. With each rise and fall of your chest, you feel a tiny bit of the panic fade, as if his soothing static draws it out in humble waves, soft and soothing around and inside you.

"I know, darling...", Alastor murmurs, kissing the top of your head and tightening his hold, "It's all long forgiven already."

A shattered sigh escapes you. How could he do all this for you? Accept you, with all the flaws and mistakes and shortcomings? How can he forgive you with such gentle ease? And still care for you, despite and including it all, why? How?

"Please don't hate me..."

He only loosens his grip when you stop trembling, carefully taking your chin between his claws, prompting you to break the chain of self-degrading thoughts and silencing the whispers in your head as he locks his eyes on yours.

"I could never, darling, even if I tried. But you need to understand: You are fighting the most vicious and cruel enemy there is, my love.", his face is void of the smirk he often wore, the one he doesn't use to tease or ridicule, or mock, it's his serious smile. The one he wears when he's about to be blunt. "Yourself."

A sudden rush of fresh tears cloud your vision. He's right, you know he is - you have always been your own worst enemy. Never giving yourself a fighting chance, the help and care you didn't feel you deserve. It felt so tiring, hopeless, in these moments where you fell victim to your weakness and turned it all onto yourself.

"I'm... so weak."

"We all have our battles. And this happens to be one you exhausted yourself to win on your own. However...", he offers you a sweet smile, taking your hand, "...it's a battle you don't have to fight alone anymore."

He takes your face into one of his large hands - the warmth of his palm is soothing against the rawed skin of your cold cheek as you instinctively lean into it, chasing the gentleness of the touch. The smile he gives you is more serious than you've ever seen before, and he lifts his other hand, waving his fingers for a split second in the corner of your eyes - the loose floorboard squeaks as it magically sets itself back into its place and seals itself with the flooring, eliminating the option of taking it off again. Alastor sighs, tilting his head to recapture your gaze.

"Whatever angry words are exchanged and however vexed we might be with each other... please, my love, let me hold you together in my arms when you threaten to fall apart like this."

How long he held you in his arms that night, settled in your bed instead of his as you usually did - you didn't know. How many soothing touches he planted on your body – you didn't count. All that mattered were the soft kisses that he pressed on your cheeks, the way he held your hand, fingers entwined with yours, and the soothing words he repeated to you, over and over like a mantra.

"You are doing well, my love."

[lukas-and-pama]

!ASKS ARE CLOSED TILL INBOX IS EMPTY!

########—Bweeepp. . .

Accessing local database. . .

[||||||||||||||||||||||||||] 100%

Initialized . .

“PAMA.. what’re you doing now?” - Lukas

“I am accessing a local social media platform.” - PAMA

“And.. why? How is that gonna help us?” - Lukas

“I am not sure, but we might find these peopele.. USEFUL for information.” - PAMA

“You just want their data, PAMA, not information.” - Lukas

“But data IS information. Data is USEFUL.” - PAMA

“Not when you want it all to yourself. If something comes up, just please, for once, let me know.” - Lukas

“. . . Affirmative.” - PAMA

———

OOC:

Plot:

Lukas found himself deserted in the middle of a desert biome after getting separated from his friends. Accompanied by PAMA, who is now degraded into a small computer. They both traverse the vast and deserted lands with only one goal in Lukas’s mind: Find a way to get out and reunite with his friends to figure out what happened and what’s going on.

Background:

Lukas was revisiting Crown Mesa to help Harper with moving her stuff to Beacontown— something about moving in with Ivor. While he was halfway with moving, a sudden burst of energy from his portal home knocked over Lukas, sending him flying into the portal behind him. Lukas ended up in a deserted, remote world with nothing but sand—cacti and tumbleweeds. The computer Lukas was carrying before, suddenly sparked to life from the blast. The energy was powerful enough that it powered the computer. Revealing that it was PAMA—a miniature version of it—Lukas decides to bring it with him, hoping it would help with the isolation.

Timeline:

After season 1 & 2

Relationship:

Lukas isn’t very fond of PAMA, therefore he dislikes them.

Lukas still has PTSD from getting chipped.

PAMA doesn’t have much data than it was before when it was in full control. But they’re still kinda.. useful.

PAMA still regains their desire to make everyone useful, but due to their small state, PAMA does not have access to anything unless either someone/something is chipped or they’re connected to something like a PC.

PAMA does regain their lost memory data, meaning PAMA remembers everything before they were deactivated by Jesse.

PAMA will do its up most best to maintain Lukas’ health in order to keep his brain intact.

PAMA likes Lukas because he has “gained new data” throughout is later adventure with Jesse—Petra and Ivor.

Important note:

Anything you say might possibly be remembered and progresses the story!

[godricgryffinsnore]

Harry and YN building up their dream home.

[a random 4 am request]

Blueprints, Blunders, and Butterbeer ♡ : A Harry Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : A whimsical and heartwarming tale of Harry and his love building their dream home from scratch—complete with laughter, mishaps, and magic—proving that the best kind of home is one built together.

warnings : Pure fluff and domestic chaos, Light comedic injury (hammer vs. thumb), Excessive use of charm, puns, and enchanted vegetables, May cause uncontrollable smiling and the urge to redecorate with your partner 🧱💫. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : Currently only focusing on emptying my inbox. Please feel free to send more requests <3. Hope you enjoy!!

word count : 0.8k

main master list <3

banners : @anitalenia and @cafekitsune

🪄✨

You’d always thought building your dream home with Harry Potter would be a romantic whirlwind of soft music, shared paintbrushes, and spontaneous kisses under newly installed doorframes.

It was not.

It was chaos.

“I thought you said you knew how to use a hammer,” you muttered, arms crossed, staring down at your boyfriend, who was currently sprawled on the floor with a bruised thumb and a look of betrayal.

“I do!” Harry insisted, looking deeply offended. “Just… not when the nails are acting like Slytherins.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“They keep dodging my strikes and judging me.”

You snorted. “Pretty sure the nails aren’t judging you, sweetheart.”

He looked up at you mournfully. “They definitely are.”

🧱

It all started with an ancient cottage on the edge of Ottery St. Catchpole—ramshackle and vine-choked, with more personality than practicality. You and Harry had fallen in love with it immediately. It needed “a bit of work,” which you now understood to mean: it needed everything.

Day one had been about demolition.

“I don’t know if this wall is load-bearing,” you’d said.

Harry, wand in hand, beamed. “There’s one way to find out.”

Three loud cracks, a puff of plaster, and a very angry gnome later, you had discovered it was, in fact, load-bearing.

“We’ll fix it,” he’d promised sheepishly, brushing dust off your head and kissing your temple.

Day five was the plumbing disaster.

Harry had insisted on trying a Muggle method, “just to learn.”

You were still not over the geyser that had burst from the kitchen sink, soaking you both and leaving you looking like wet rats huddling over a how-to YouTube video. He handed you a cup of tea afterward, his hair still dripping. “I think we invented a new water feature.”

You almost hexed him.

But then he grinned, wide and hopeful, and you forgave him again.

🖌️

By week three, things started coming together.

You painted the bedroom a warm, golden hue, and Harry spelled the ceiling to look like the night sky, complete with a little enchanted shooting star that zoomed by every hour.

“I named that one after you,” he said one night, pointing at a sparkling star near the center.

You looked up at it, breath catching. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s the brightest. And slightly chaotic.”

You smacked him with a pillow, and he cackled.

🌱

The garden was your pride and joy. You planted wildflowers and grew your own vegetables (or tried to).

“Why are the carrots floating?” you asked, peering over the raised bed.

Harry scratched his head. “I may have used Wingardium Leviosa instead of fertilizer.”

“HARRY.”

He dropped the carrot mid-air. It bonked him on the head.

He pretended to die dramatically in your freshly planted dahlias.

“I’m not helping you up,” you said, but you were laughing too hard to sound convincing.

🎶

Then came furnishing day.

You discovered Harry had absolutely no taste in furniture. He wanted beanbags in the living room. Bright orange ones.

“Why orange?”

“They’re like the Chudley Cannons!”

“They also look like pumpkins that lost their will to live.”

After a passionate debate that may or may not have involved you threatening to transfigure them into literal pumpkins, you compromised: one sad orange beanbag in the corner—“The Timeout Chair”—and a proper sofa you picked together.

He sulked dramatically in the beanbag for an hour and only came out when you made hot cocoa and told him he was your favorite wizard, even if his interior design skills were suspicious at best.

🔥

The final touch was the fireplace.

Harry insisted on building it by hand.

“I want us to have a place we sit by in the winters,” he said. “Where I propose. Where our kids fall asleep with cocoa mustaches and Christmas jumpers too big for them.”

You blinked, trying not to cry.

That was how you found yourself handing him bricks and biting your tongue every time he placed one crookedly.

“Are you crying?” he asked one evening as you both sat in front of the finished (and slightly uneven) fireplace.

“No,” you sniffled, tucking your face into his jumper.

He pulled you into his lap, kissed your forehead. “You’re thinking about the cocoa mustaches, aren’t you?”

You nodded.

“I’m thinking about our kids stealing biscuits before dinner and blaming the dog.”

“We don’t have a dog.”

He looked very serious. “We’ll need one. For the blame, obviously.”

🎇

The first night you stayed in the cottage, it still smelled like paint and plaster, and half the wardrobe doors were missing. But you were curled in bed beside Harry, wrapped in a blanket, his arm tucked tight around your waist.

“Think it’s perfect,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against your shoulder.

You looked around your slightly crooked dream home—your scratched floorboards, your starry ceiling, your half-working plumbing—and smiled.

“It is.”

He grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Just wait ‘til I install the quidditch pitch in the backyard.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Too late, already drew the blueprints.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him anyway.

After all, it was your dream home.

And it was filled with love, laughter, magic—and one very determined, hammer-incompetent Harry Potter.

[bunny-jpeg]

earl grey and frozen latte with george russel please!!

if i could please request she’s a very stressed out grad student and he decides to roleplay hot dark academia professor to get her to relax🙂‍↕️

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? the hit up the menu! the inbox is still open! so please send me your orders! these are posted almost daily! thank you! i see it's just a drink order, but don't worry that's perfectly fine! i love what you picked and the suggestion you made, thank you!

and to all of those in their studies right now, i believe in you! remember to take breaks, have something to eat and drink water. and don't drink caffeine on an empty stomach!!

earl grey: big cock + frozen latte: dumbification served by george russell (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, roleplay, "professor"!george, uni student!reader, big cock!george, office/desk sex, praise (kink)

"fuck me.. fuck me stupid." you swallowed, you practically were on your knees. you had been working so hard with your graduate studies, but you felt like you've barely made a dent. when an assignment was finished, it felt like two more appeared out of thin air.

and with george home, you needed something to take your mind off of everything. even for a night. it was impossible for you to turn your brain off sometimes, the only thing that seemed to make it slow down was george's cock.

he looked at you with a bit of shock, usually he was a gentle lover. but, he could see the dark circles under your eyes. the light in your dimmed while you focuses all your energy on studies. when you looked down in shame, he took you by the chin and made you look up at him. he'd do anything for you. he pulled you close to him, "fuck you stupid, huh? well, i might have something that could make that happen."

the blouse you wore was a big restrictive. and the skirt showed off your curves. you were invited to professor russell's house for the evening. you were told it was to discuss your upcoming assignments, he told you he had high expectations for your final assignment in his course.

you walked through his house, the lavish home he lived in. you were surprised that a university professor could afford to live somewhere so nice. it was late into the evening, most of the house was lit with soft lights as you crept through the house. you knew that if you moved the wrong way a button would break on your blouse. you felt the heat in your cheeks as you called out, "professor russell."

"in here." he said and you followed the sound of his voice. you found yourself in the doorway to his home office.

"you know it's not nice to leave a guest alone in your home." you remarked as you stepped through the doorway. he looked nice behind the desk. the wall of books ranging in all kinds of topics were at the far wall and you could see out into the dark night through the window. raindrops hit against the glass.

he chuckled, "you act like you've never been here before. you know where the spare key is and the layout of every room. you're familiar with my house as i am your body." he leaned back into the office chair and looked up from his laptop, "i was seeing if you did as i asked."

you looked down at yourself, "i wore the shirt you picked out." even though it was a tad too small. it highlighted your chest perfectly, even if it did make you feel flushed all over.

"i mean your assignment, miss." he replied, "it's not in my inbox. i invited you over to discuss it and it's nowhere to be found." george played professor very well, it made you rub your thighs together. a motion that he noticed. he did promise anything to make you relax.

you could hear the rain patter against the window as you approached him. the room bathed in a warm light, he looked even more handsome behind the desk. while he mostly used it for very long zoom meetings with the team, he was more than happy to use the space to make you finally relax.

"you've made me very proud so far, miss." he said as he closed his laptop, "but i can feel you're slipping." he rested his elbows onto the sturdy desk and smiled at you. he looked like an angel, but something lurked under the surface, "we've grown familiar with one another while you've been at this school i'd even call you my prized student." his gaze beckoned for you, something about his praise lured you in.

you approached him and he pulled away from the desk to make room for you. you swallowed, "mister russell."

he smiled a little as how well you folded into him, "always with your nose in a book. i wonder what you read about when i'm not looking. you bury yourself in the classics, but i wonder. what do you do to relax, do you touch yourself? do you have any toys?"

you ended up seated on his desk, he admired your for a moment. his cock nudged against the front of his slacks. he dressed for the part too, a white button up with dark brown slacks. the watch he wore shined in the low light, a symbol of all his wealth. you were the poor graduate student and he was your professor.

you replied, "i sometimes touch myself."

"do you ever have a little help? a boyfriend maybe." he asked as he pulled closer to you on the chair and gazed up at you. he could see that the buttons of your blouse were fighting to stay together, "i guess if you had one you wouldn't have worn the top i picked out for you." his hand grazed your thigh, pushed the skirt up. he could feel the heat of your inner thigh.

"no boyfriend, sir. i don't have the time." you replied, "your assignments keep piling up and it leaves me little time to do anything else."

"except pleasure yourself, of course. there is always time for that. your hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit." he leaned in and kissed the top of your thigh over the skirt, "your core throbbing with need."

you admitted, "i think about you, sir. when i touch myself. they say a man with big hands has a big... cock. and it never left my mind." you watched him stand up, then slowly zip the skirt down. you got it off of yourself and george was sweet enough to undo all the pesky buttons to free your poor breasts.

he cupped your chest in his hands and admired the weight of them, "maybe i should give you more work, so you'll have even less time for boys..."

you swallowed, "professor russell." you leaned back a little, more room on the desk now that the laptop was moved. you watched him take off his belt and unzip his pants to get his cock out. you swallowed at the sight of it, "i was right."

he smiled, "of course. only the best for my prized student." he then peeled off your panties, the white cotton ended over over the back of his leather office chair. he slotted himself between your legs and kissed you. the wind hit against the house and you felt warmed against him as he took you and slipped his cock into you.

the stretch made you dig your nails into his board shoulders. the stiffness of his button up could be felt under your hands. you placed a tender kiss on the side of his neck as you moaned, "russell... george."

he chuckled lightly as he moved against you. his large hands on your hips as he moved against you. he was encouraged by your sweet moans. you were the personification of honey, gooey between george's fingers. he loved you, you were so hard working for your degree. so of course he was more than happy to do a little roleplay.

the kisses continued as he thrusted against you. his pace was slow, but had force behind it. your moaned were breathless and they enticed him more. you felt like a dream around him, you were heaven in his arms. when he kissed you between heavy moans, he tasted sweetness. once again, you were like honey.

"you're doing so well in your courses. you are such a bright young woman and i see the future in your eyes. you will be writing the new classics eventually." his words made you blushed and when you tried to hide your face, he took them and placed them onto the wood of the desk. his hand held yours. he said softly, "don't hide from me, love. i want to see it all." he smiled a little bit as he continued to move against you.

he looked at you with a heated gaze, he could feel the sweat on his back and his rapid heartbeat in his chest. he kissed you once more as the two of you fucked on the desk. you held onto his hands as he moved against you. he loved the feeling of your cunt around his hard cock. he was big, but it hit against the perfect areas. your noises got a little more desperate the more he moved against you.

"please, professor." you whined. you could feel the stress of your semester melt off your back as you got closer to orgasm. your voice was strained and george adored it.

"i'll forgive you for not sending me your assignment. since you've been so sweet to me tonight." he looked you in the eyes and went in to kiss you one more time. you felt a little dumber than when you came into the office.

there was something about george's larger cock and the way he brushed against you that it made you see stars. your nails bit into his hands as he took you faster. the heated moment between you two as the rain hit the window on a cool fall night. you felt euphoria, eventually you clenched around him and came with a sharp moan.

george basked in the feeling. he groaned against your lips as he kissed you. his breathing was heavy and his body was hot. he held onto you tightly as continued to work his cock against you.

"shit, george." you said, you felt out of this world. somewhere else as any anxiety was long out of your mind. replaced with the heated pleasure of sex with your lover.

he chuckled as he gave his hips a few more thrusts. eventually finishing inside of you quickly. he let go of your hands and held you face tenderly as the kisses grew hotter. he groaned against your heated flesh as he slowed to a stop. but the kisses continued for a few moments longer as you melted against him, in nothing but your bra.

when he pulled away, he looked into your eyes and said, "i expect the assignment in my inbox tomorrow. but for now, tonight is all ours." he smiled at you, a promise of a long night to come.

george would happily play your professor any day of the week, as long as he got to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. after all, you were his prized student <3

[cloudcountry]

hiiii Auburn!! I saw you opened up some requests and I immediately thought that it would be so nice to see jealous/angsty Ritsu after you return from the mission in ep. 17! Or maybe just how you think he would react to this specific inter-house mission. I am thinking likely not established relationship, maybe heavy pining? (Could also turn into a confession moment???)

I'm kinda thinking out loud in your inbox haha, but this is something I would be interested in seeing and I am hoping it's something you would be excited to write:)

SUMMARY: ritsu is not very happy with the mission they sent you on (without him.)

COMMENTS: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING RITSUUUU TT0TT I WAS SCREECHING WHEN I SAW THIS AAA

its also kinda funny because i literally . sent a request of this kind of concept to a friend of mine ... we are all hiveminding right now ASGDJAHSGD i wrote this so quick holy shit

The bombardment of texts and missed calls that popped up on your phone after you had regained cell service should have clued you into your business partner’s mood. Usually very effective at communicating, only keeping his thoughts in a single message, he had messaged you multiple times over the course of your mission, inquiring about your current state and sending information he found about recent anomaly cases on islands.

It was helpful and sweet—you simply never received any of it. Ritsu always took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t there to do it physically.

You read through each message with a smile and liked each one with the hearts he usually claimed were unprofessional. Seconds after your first heart appeared, Ritsu was typing a new message.

Come see me at the diner at 7pm tonight. I have much to discuss with you.

Oh no. Your smile falters. Is he truly angry with you? It’s not like you had control over the situation. Texting him back, you explain that the anomaly affected your cell service, and that you would have contacted him sooner if you could.

He leaves you to read.

You would have called him every night if they’d let you. What part of that does he not understand?

You part ways with everyone and make your way to the diner, arriving approximately twelve minutes early. Ritsu sits in his usual booth, empty coffee mug at his side, pouring over his textbook with a furrowed brow.

“Ritsu? I’m back,” you pipe up, clutching the straps of your bag nervously.

“Please, have a seat,” he says, all business and no friendliness.

You sit down, pressing your lips together. He doesn’t look up at you, opting to focus all of his attention on the book instead of acknowledging you.

“If you want to talk to me, then talk to me. I didn’t come here just to sit with all this tension,” you say softly, coaxing him to give you something, anything.

Ritsu clears his throat, finally looking up at you. His face is impassive, but something is wrong—you can’t tell if he’s frustrated or angry. Embarrassed, maybe? Whatever the case, he would no doubt tell you if you kept up the pressure.

“Is it about the mission?” you ask, leaning a bit closer, “Come on, you can tell me. I won’t laugh or anything. Promise.”

“It was brought to my attention,” he blurts, adjusting his tie with a steady hand, “That you went on a reality dating show with our fellow ghouls as contestants to win your heart.”

You nod slowly, unsure as to what about that would make him so upset. When you don’t speak, Ritsu continues, busying his hands with the pages of his textbook, flipping through each one at random.

“Have you become distracted while you were there? It would do you well to not forget our goal of reinstating the Gala, and Sinostra obtaining the Laurel Crown.” he reminds you, almost scolding you amidst the soft humming of the refrigerators in the kitchen.

You hear the question that remains unspoken.

Did any of them successfully win your heart?

You lean back in your seat, sighing deeply in relief. He wasn’t angry with you—Ritsu was just worried that you actually fell for one of them.

What a silly thing to stress about!

“Ritsu,” you smile, reaching across the table.

You grab his hand and he stills his meaningless flipping of pages. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, eyes trained on your hand.

“I don’t like any of them like that. You don’t need to worry about any of the ghouls distracting me from you,” you chastise him gently, squeezing his hand, “You’re my favorite.”

At those words, you have a great pleasure of seeing fire blossom across his cheeks, his hand shaking ever so slightly underneath yours. His chest is heaving and this time you know it’s embarrassment—he’s practically shaking at the praise, even if he's hiding it well.

“Are you positive?” he asks, voice firm as ever but inexplicably soft at the same time.

“Well, I’m with you right now, aren't I? I think I’m pretty sure,” you point out.

His shoulders relax a bit with relief. You open your mouth, then close it, hesitating.

“I would have called you,” you murmur, “If I had cell service. I tried to, actually. So...since I can tell you everything now, thank you for taking care of me. I read through some of the files and articles you sent. You’re quite kind to me, Ritsu. You’re irreplaceable.”

“Then—Well, we should meet tomorrow then, too.” he huffs, fumbling for his recorder (which was undoubtedly recorded the whole thing, and you hope it is so that he can listen to it over and over and know how much you love him.)

Even if you have yet to say it.

“I would love that,” you smile, giving his hand one more squeeze before you pull away, “Don’t forget what I told you. I’ll always remind you, though. If you need me to.”

Ritsu nods far too robotically—it’s as though he didn’t expect communicating with you to be so easy. You just gave in, explaining the feelings he could not reach, peeling over your very rib cage so he could catch a glimpse of your heart.

You hope he noticed how much of it was occupied by him and him alone.