#i finished that book and just lay down on the floor for an hour because i had to just absorb it all

[stil-lindigo]

emily carroll has once again permanently changed my brain chemistry

[luveline]

i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE

thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader

The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, it’s nice to be home. 

The living room is clean where it hadn’t been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, he’d die. It must’ve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean. 

“Hey?” he asks into the open air, wondering where you are. 

“Spencer!” you yelp from the kitchen, “Hey, what took you so long? It’s almost seven!” 

He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. “I know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?” 

“I had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.” 

He doesn’t want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morgan’s birthday. 

Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. He’s tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasn’t heard you, but he supposes he shouldn’t. He’d sort of been hoping you’d text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesn’t think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so. 

“Spence,” you say, your smile of a calibre he’s never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, “I hope you know I’ve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, I’ve been waiting all day, but you can’t be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?” 

“Am I ready? What did you want help with?” 

You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. “Tada!” you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. “I rushed to light them when I heard the door,” you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. “A lot of candles, you’re getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I should’ve got you something sophisticated.” 

“You got me a cake?” 

“It’s your birthday,” you say happily. “Happy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, it’s from the Leaven. How fancy is that?” 

“Will you sing?” he asks. 

He doesn’t know why he asks. He’s mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. “I’ll sing. Come stand over here.” 

You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin. 

“Okay, and I got you this,” you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.

It’s a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows it’ll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and it’s in your nature to give him your everything. 

He doesn’t look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. You don’t make him. “Sorry, I just– I–” You’re the only one who remembered. “Thank you for the cake.” 

You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. “Hey, it’s okay. I love you, you’re my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.” You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesn’t know. “But especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.” 

Spencer should let go. Anything you want, you’d said. He hugs you until he’s sure you’re sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“What?” he asks. “For what?” 

“For such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.” 

“The candles are perfect.” 

You lean back in his arms. “Thank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?” 

Spencer really wants another hug. “Um. Cake?” 

“Good choice, handsome.”

His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but it’s the best birthday cake he’s ever had.

[drefear]

Imagine reader artist, who loves to draw Miguel. And the other day she's just drawing naked Miguel's body. He saw it and just smirks and say: "I've got bigger than that" or "I could show/pose for accuracy"

TW: raunchy smut, Dom!miguel, fem reader, smut with no plot.

A/N: I wrote half of this while at work and a little drunk. So here ya go. Also currently in the process of writing a part two.

Miguel’s face filled your sketchbook, his back in his spider suit, his mask, every angle you could find him at. You often sat in his office for hours while he did reports, sketching him and drawing him. You loved using different mediums and colors, giving him new features and styles. You specifically loved practicing drawing his broad body and sculpted as-

Ahem. Legs.

Yes, ok, fine, you had a small crush on your boss, whatever, no big deal.

You would purposefully finish all of your work as fast as possible so you could sit back and draw him. And because you weren’t loud or annoying, and everything was always done on time and orderly, he let you.

But one mission in particular made him stressed out, and as you watched him filling out data about the anomaly he’d just captured, he glitched his suit down his torso and injected himself with that mysterious green liquid, entrancing you for those glorious few seconds.

It was very obvious he had a nice body, duh. But you never let your mind go too far in imagining him out of his suit, scared to go into a territory you couldn’t back out of.

And now you did, drawing his torso and pecks, shading his abs, and this got you curious about more.

Lower.

Biting your lip, you sat in the cafeteria a few days later. You purposefully sat with your back to a wall, making sure no one could sneak up on you and see what you were drawing, as you drew him laying down. His arms splayed behind his head, face relaxed, as you defined his leg muscles. As you finished the piece of art, the only area you’d avoided was his groin.

And now you stared at the empty area of art, knee bouncing from anxiety about how you were supposed to draw this. You had no reference for him. Yes, you’d seen dicks before, obviously. You lived in a universe with unrestricted internet access, so it’s not like you’d never been around the block, but here you were, blushing like a 15 year old just because of a dick.

Drawing and then erasing and drawing, you repeated the process a few times before you heard someone click their tongue in front of you. You’d been so consumed by what you were doing, you didn’t even feel your spider senses or hear them come close.

Miguel stood with an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so jumpy?” He asked and you snatched the book in front of you to your chest, stuttering some bullshit answer about too much caffeine. He just nodded and continued giving you a new order.

You got up from your seat and moved to follow him to his cold, dark lair area. As you were about to step onto his platform, you tripped and your hands flew out to stabilize your fall. As you did, the notebook flew across the floor and slid as your vision blurred from how fast you’d collapsed, getting up slowly and rolling your shoulders. You reached to where the sketch book had fallen, but it was no longer there.

No.

NO.

It was between his fingers, as he flipped through the pages slowly, eyeing your work with his brows furrowed, focused. You jumped towards him and he just turned his back, making you feel like you ran into a wall. You reached around him and he webbed your wrist to the table beside you, still not tearing his eyes from your work.

“Stop, that’s private! Give it back!” You shouted and he rolled his eyes briefly.

“It’s all drawings of me, I think I’m allowed to see-“ and his words stopped as he flipped to the newest page.

The nude drawing of him.

You gulped as his expression became unreadable, stoic, and your eyes flashed between the art and him. “I-I was just practicing forms and poses-“

“It’s… inaccurate.” He spoke lowly before your eyes blinked for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He walked to you and stood tall, bending down slightly to stare directly into your eyes. His mouth turned up at the ends and his eyes glittered with something you’d never seen in him before.

Turning the book back to you and showing you your own drawing, he smirked deeper.

“I’m much bigger.” His eyes were almost challenging you, making your blood run ice cold, and you felt his hands yank your body against his. “Do you want to see for reference?”

And then his watch made a loud sound, Lyla popping up to explain some anomaly on earth number whatever. He groaned and turned to walk out. “I’ll be back once this is done. Don’t go anywhere because When I do return, we’re continuing where we left off.”

Then he was gone and you stood, mouth agape from the whole exchange. You thought it might take a while for him to capture this anomaly, so You’d decided to go back to your own universe in preparation, showering and fixing yourself up. You bit your nail nervously as you thought about it all. Was he serious? No way, right…?

As you stood in the bathroom mirror, the sound of a portal opening cut through your mind like a knife, making your body rush into your living room. You gripped the towel tight around your torso as you saw Miguel walk out of the colorful dimension behind him and into yours. The portal closed and with that, his mask disintegrated so you could see his face. A bit tired, he still had a less-than-enthusiastic expression on.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere.” He repeated and you stood stuff as a board, now a bit scared. He took slow, calculated steps towards you as your head tilted back to continue watching him. “Inaccurate and disobedient. I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” His index finger hooked under your chin as he smirked and grabbed your hand with his free one, pulling you into your bathroom. He looked around for a second before hitting a button on his watch and letting the fabric disappear.

You bit your lip as your eyes took full advantage of his exposed skin. “You- it-“

“Yeah. I know.” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, bending you over your counter with your hand breached against your back. “Now I want you to really study how I fuck you, so that you get a good look at how big I am, and how easy I can maneuver this body.” He whispered into your damp hair and pushed down, then ripping the towel away and throwing it out of the bathroom completely.

His eyes stared down at your weeping cunt and he licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you another time. Today, I want you to really feel my size.” He was cocky, and he had a right to be. His dick was huge, almost alarmingly big.

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you clenched your jaw. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow. That way you can feel good and still learn.” He cooed in a teasing tone and your eyes found his in the mirror, watching intently as he began to push into you. The sudden width he was stretching you to was mind numbing and your knees began to buckle, but he just held you up with one hand, the other still guiding himself into you.

“Coño, your sucking me in so nicely, might not even need to slow down.” He spoke and your eyes were rolling back from his words, to which you snapped out of once his hand that was holding you up held your face harshly towards the mirror. “No slacking, little girl. You better keep your eyes on my cock.”

Halfway inside, and you were already fluttering around him, on the verge of orgasm. “That’s it, sucia, cum on my cock. It’ll be the first time of many.” You shivered at his words, feeling him sink in further and immediately orgasming. The rolls of pleasure washing through you made him grunt as his hips couldn’t help but rut into you harshly. The lack of prep had you feeling everything he was giving you, hyper aware of your insides wrapping around him.

“Mm, wanna fuck me back? Grind back onto my cock? Paciencia, Nena.” He instructed as you kept trying to get him in further. Wrapping a hand around your torso, he tweeked at your nipples and made you gasp from the sensation. “That’s it,” he mumbled.

Finally, smirked, he chuckled darkly as you tried once more to thrust backwards. “Fine, you asked for it.” He met your eyes in the mirror, now blood red and swirling with the threat as he snapped his hips forward and forced the rest of him into you, making you gargle out a strained sound in shock and pleasure. The pain was beautiful, and began to subside quickly as you felt him twitch. He hit every spot and more, feeling new depths and points of pleasure.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he started a slightly faster pace. Your body jiggled from the movements and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your apartment, your mouth hanging open as your eyes never left were his dick was buried into you. He smiled, enjoying the way you watched his cock disappear into you over and over, and you felt the pressure building once more. How he bullied your cunt and grinned while doing it made you burst, tears breaking free and a scream ripping through you as your pussy squeezed him.

“Fuck, so tight.” He groaned, head now falling back and he kept going, beginning to chase his own high. Your mind had shut off now, fucked practically stupid on his cock and he rocking into you mercilessly. His speed was unmatched and he moved to pick up your hips to meet his, closing the gap your height difference had created, and finally having him slam into you until his hips met your ass, making you choke on your own oxygen from the absolute brutal beating he was giving your cervix.

He slid one hand to the back of your neck and pressed you further into the counter top of your sink, forcing your pert nipples to meet the cold marble and you cried out more, barely able to push back against him now as you were trapped between his body and your bathroom’s confinements with only your top toes touching the floor. Your face was streaked with tears as he grunted and let out ragged breaths.

“The perfect little pussy, so perfect for my cock. You can take it, little artist. You wanted to draw my cock so badly, now you have the perfect image to do it. Fucked deep inside of you. Draw us like this for me, yeah? I wanna see it everyday. Or should I just fuck you every day instead?” His words tumbled from his mouth like an avalanche and you could feel his cock about to burst, making you teeter over that cliff as well. “That’s it, strangle my cock. Cum all over me, niña, paint me with your cute cunt.” He demanded and you obliged, feeling a shooting electric sensation rip out of you. Suddenly, you were both a bit wet between the thighs and he was mesmerized by what he saw. Your juices squirt all over him and he came instantly after seeing that, pounding into you as far as he could and forcing his cum the deepest it could be inside of you.

Both of you were unmoving as you caught your breath, a layer of sweat covering you both as you stared at each other in the mirror. No words could describe what had just happened and Miguel smiled once more, which prompted you to ask.

“What?”

“You need to get a mirror by your bed. Because I want to do this to you every day.” He watched your eyes widen in the mirror in front of you both as he licked your neck from behind and sinking his fangs into your soft skin, jutting his hips once more and making you realize he was still hard.

“For art purposes.”

Part two is out!

[morverenmaybewrites]

Once they are in a relationship, do you think Jason would be more comfortable sleeping in a bed with reader or alone? I could imagine either for various reasons

I think for a long time, Jason would be more comfortable sleeping alone, all the while desperately wanting to physically sleep together.

At any stage in the relationship, but especially in its early stages, Jason would be deeply insecure about how his trauma and his work could affect his partner.

He'd come home at odd hours: at dawn, just before the sun rose, perhaps midday after a particularly long case, reeking of blood and gunpowder. And he'd find himself moving as quietly as he could in his own home, doing his best not to disturb you. He'd probably just collapse on the couch than risk waking you.

Then, there were the nightmares, the ones that would have him wake up with a scream still lodged in his throat, the ones that would have him rising from the bed on shaking legs, so that he could vomit in the bathroom sink.

The ones that he would do anything to hide from you.

Because while he trusts you, there is a part of him—the part that had once been Robin, the part that had been left alone to die in the dark—that is terrified you will leave when you find out just how broken he is.

I think for the most part, he'll want to sleep alone, even when he needs the comfort.

There might be days when you catch him off-guard, though. Perhaps after a particularly rough case, one that has him stumbling through the doors of your shared home, already half-asleep with exhaustion. Perhaps he'll find you reading a book in a patch of sunlight by the window. Perhaps you had just finished baking, and the house smells like coffee and freshly-risen dough.

And for a second he'll think that he doesn't want to be alone.

"Busy?" he asks in a voice so ragged with exhaustion that it doesn't even sound like him.

When you shake your head, he'll find himself sitting right next to you on the couch, still reeking of blood and gunpowder.

When you try to ask about the case, he briefly considers lying.

But when he looks at you, he finds that he doesn't want to lie. Because even through the thick leather of his gloves, your hands feel warm against his. Because you look beautiful in the honeyed light.

Because, he thinks, that maybe you will not leave him alone in the dark.

"Can I stay here?" he asks.

"Jason," you say. "this is your home, too."

Home, he thinks.

He hasn't had that since Wayne Manor burned down.

This time, he does not move quietly as he removes his helmet, his gloves. They hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thump.

This time, he does not move away.

Instead, he lays his head on your lap, and lets himself melt against the warmth of your skin. He watches the sun dance across the ceiling of the apartment, and he inhales the scent of coffee and freshly-risen dough and the sweet scent of you.

He feels your hand gently stroking his hair and he thinks: yes, this is home.

This time when he sleeps, he does not dream.

[ivysangel]

READ BETWEEN THE LINES (JASON TODD)

NOTES/CW - continuation of this post, literally just straight up porn, fem!reader, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, -17 dni, my first time writing smut in this format so plz be nice this shit is NOT for the weak !!! (1.7k)

It's about an hour before Jason caps the highlighter in his hand, having skimmed over the entire book in record time, picking out five or six quotes that would boost your essay into A territory. Except, you weren't concerned about the essay or what grade you got. Yeah, sure, when you had first invited him over, it was genuinely because you needed feedback, but now you have the feedback

"It's written well, only problem is that you need better quotes."

You remember his words as clear as day because they're the reason why Jason had been occupied with your assignment and not the ache between your legs. Now that his perusal of quotes was over, finished, done, and the book was closed, you could finally get relief from something other than your thighs being squeezed together so tight the blood flow was being cut off from your lower extremities.

He carefully cleans up the area, stacking papers strewn across the table and putting pens away. It may have seemed like he was just tidying the table, but you knew that he was messing with you. Typically, you wouldn't give in so easily, but your body was getting hotter by the second, and there was a thin sheen of sweat forming on your back.

God, it was hot. The room was hot, your sweater was hot, and your boyfriend was so fucking hot; and so fucking annoying.

"Jason," you murmur, shifting in your seat as his eyes rake up your figure, shrouded in cozy brown wool. "you said...please, can you just-"

A breathy laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head, raking a hand through jet-black hair. He slides the chair back, stands up, and walks over to where you sit. Hovering over you and looking down at your face, which could only be described as pitiful. Your eyes are wide, and your mouth's parted slightly as you manually breathe. Yeah, you look pathetic, but it's not surprising, given the tortuous amount of arousal you were feeling and how badly you needed to get it out of your system.

"Jason." you say again, needier this time. "you said you would..." You trail off, pleading eyes find his as he looks down at you amusedly. His hands make their way to your cheeks, and he tugs at your head ever so slightly, prompting you to stand up.

"You're cute when you get like this," he says before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. You bring your arms around his neck, tugging him closer to you and deepening the kiss. It very quickly devolves into a mess of tongue as your hands eagerly roam his body, sliding up his shirt and running over the rippled abs he keeps hidden away.

"Woah, easy girl," he says, pulling back, and you whimper at the sudden absence of contact between you. "I'm not gonna fuck you standing up." He looks up for a second, seemingly in thought, "At least not today."

The next part happens fast. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and around his waist, and you gasp at the sudden lack of floor beneath your feet. One hand stays on your leg while the other finds the small of your back, and he walks you over to the couch, laying you down gently.

"You're so impatient sometimes, you know that?" his hands push your sweater up a bit, and you grab the hem, pulling it over your bra and holding it at your neck. "I waited for like two hours." you breathe out as he places a few wet, open-mouthed kisses on your stomach before moving downwards and unbuttoning your jeans, tugging them and your underwear down in one swift movement. "oh, but I'm the impatient one."

He comes back up to your face, a dumb fucking grin playing on his lips, and he kisses you so gently you're slightly taken aback. "I love you," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck and breathing in your scent.

"Love me so much you're skipping the foreplay?"

"Watching you try not to finger fuck yourself for two hours was the foreplay, babe."

You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he gets the message, sitting up for a second and pulling it over his head. He tosses it over the side of the couch, then climbs off you to move onto his pants, and you take the opportunity to lift yourself slightly, removing what was left of your outfit before looking over your shoulder and tossing it behind you. When you turn back around, you're met with the bright pink tip of Jason's cock, white beads of pre-cum collecting on his tip. You've seen him naked dozens of times. Touched him, sucked him, fucked him; dozens of times. But you never really get used to how attractive he is and how much more turned on you get when you see how turned on he is by you.

He pulls you towards him by the foot, and you giggle, knowing what's to come. A calloused hand grabs hold of one of your legs, lifting it up and exposing your cunt. The inside of your thighs, already soaked from the sheer amount of wetness coming from your pussy. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, tilting your head down to see what he sees. Even you're shocked at how much your own folds were glistening. You glance up at him, and he gives you a questioning look, a silent "Do you think we need to prepare?" and you take another peek in between your legs, decidedly shaking your head no.

Still holding your leg up with one hand, he grabs his cock with the other, stroking it a couple times and coating it in pre-cum, before lining it up with your entrance. You feel his tip prodding at your hole, and you bite down on your lip, already imagining how good it'll feel when he's inside you.

"You ready?" 

"Do you even have to ask?"

He slides inside of you with little resistance, but you still feel how agonizingly good the stretch is. He lets out a long, drawn-out groan, stilling completely before pulling out and pushing back in all the way. He moves steadily, rocking his hips back and forth, in and out. Each stroke hits deep, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. The thickness of his cock giving you an ache so good you think you might die if you never got to experience it again. He quickens his pace a little, your tits bouncing every time his hips make contact with your pussy, and your hands find the cushions of the couch, gripping them every time he hits your sweet spot.

His free hand grabs your other thigh, pushing it towards you, and you hook your arms under your knees, bringing them to your chest, allowing him to reach even deeper than before. He leans in closer, pressing your legs further into your body, and your thighs ache. Still, the pleasure you feel overshadows the pain by a long shot.

A few groans escape Jason's lips, he's never been much of a talker during sex, and you've never really cared because the sounds he makes are enough to keep you clenching around his dick until the end of time. "Fuck." he mutters, and that alone is enough to make the familiar knot in your stomach start to unravel. You unhook one of your arms and squeeze your hand into the incredibly tight space between your legs, rubbing fast circles around your clit, while you feel Jason's pace start to falter.

Your back arches, and you lean your head so far back into the couch that you can't see his face anymore. The lewd sounds of your cunt sucking up his dick fill the room, and it's only a few seconds before you start seeing white. An overwhelming sense of euphoria washes over your body as you dig your nails into the soft cushion of the couch, and he fucks you through your orgasm, continuously kissing your cervix until you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he spills hot streams of cum inside your cunt.

Your lungs painfully expand as you try to make up for the lack of oxygen from holding your breath through your orgasm, and you tilt your head forward into a position where you can see him. Your hand makes its way up into his hair, his head hanging low, face out of view as you both catch your breath. You tug at his locks lightly, and he lifts his head, following your eyes to the legs that were squished between the two of you. Pulling back from you and holding himself up with his arms, he gives you space to stretch out on either side of the couch. You finally get a good look at him as he sits above you, hair clinging to his forehead, cheeks flushed red, and light-catching on the little bit of sweat clinging to his skin. God, you could fuck him again right now.

"You need to be spayed. This can't keep happening," he says, knowing exactly what you're thinking.

"What am I, a fucking cat?" you ask, feigning offense.

"No, but you have the libido of one in heat." he leans down again, hovering above your face, breathing out a shaky laugh. And even though your legs have gone limp, and your lungs hurt from how heavy you've been breathing, you still clench around him, seemingly ready to go again. "Nope," he says, climbing off you and gently pulling out. You wince, the sudden emptiness unbearable. He's right; you do need to be spayed. 

"I know you have the stamina for it," you joke, eyes following him as he picks up various articles of clothing off the floor before taking them to the hamper in the bathroom. You hear the sound of water running, and he returns with a wet rag in hand. "I know I do," he walks over to you, lifting one of your legs to give him better access to the mess between your thighs. "the question is, do you?"

You let out an airy laugh, watching him furrow his brows as he wipes down your legs, intent on cleaning you up. "Wanna find out?" you ask; he looks up from the mess to see the grin on your face before returning to the task at hand. 

"There's something seriously wrong with you." 

i hope you guys enjoyed this, it literally stressed me tf out !! again, my first time writing like a real smut scene so if it's not good then yk why. tell your favorite smut writers you love them because i can tell you from experience, this is much harder than it seems !!

[the-au-thor]

Hii! Can you write a little something with Spencer Reid who doesn't know yet he's in love with his best friend? Maybe she works with him in the BAU or something?

I like your story with Eddie Munson and I'm reading La Chispa trying to practice my spanish. Thanks!

Holaaa! It's great to read you want to practice and i helped you with that. I don't know if I can take requests, because I'm not sure I can do a good job, but you asked politely and you shall receive! Here's a little something with Spencer Reid x bestfriend! Reader

Bestfriend Blurb

words: 1k

Warnings: go to this link!

Spencer rose slowly from his chair, letting his muscles adjust to the new posture after hours of sitting, filling out reports for the latest case. He checked the time on his watch to confirm he still had time to complete everything before his date. The girl he was meeting had worked as a consultant on one of their cases, and they had bonded over discussions about science fiction and mathematics. He was on the verge of giving in to Morgan's persuasion and asking for her number, but she did it first. Two weeks passed, and the night before, she had called him for a coffee and a donut. Nothing extravagant, just some conversation to see if they were still as compatible as he had initially thought. He was excited, but he knew the excitement stemmed more from the fact that his last date had been ages ago, and it felt good to be able to do something like this again.

He began to put one of his books in his leather bag, along with the fountain pen that accompanied him everywhere and that he would never leave at the mercy of a stranger's use. He opened the drawer of his desk to look for his old notebook; his palm shuffled a couple of loose papers until he found that worn leather notebook that had been given to him a couple of years ago. He closed the drawer and tossed the notebook into his bag while something floated gracefully from its interior to the floor. He bent down to pick it up and examined it carefully, turning the white side to discover one of your photos.

He could easily recite endless skills of yours: you were truly intelligent, sweet, capable, and empathetic. You were also incredibly fast, especially when it came to paperwork. You usually finished first with enough time to go for coffee for everyone, sit in your chair, and stroll with your camera while subtly taking photos of everyone. They hardly noticed as you captured each team member immersed in their own work.

You had been taking photographs forever. Hotchner had decided that as long as it didn't interfere with your performance, you could take your little camera anywhere. Far from being annoying, everyone could admit that your little hobby brought a certain sense of calm to the constant storm that meant working on one of the BAU cases. In the midst of the ugliest of human nature, there you were with your camera, gathering the small scraps of beauty that they couldn't see, but you could.

Spencer caressed the photographic paper; you had taken that photo after a particularly difficult case. Spencer and J.J had fallen asleep in his favorite seat on the jet, both heads resting on each other while the files from the finished case lay on the table in front of them. Spencer had heard the movement you made when removing the lens cap from your camera, had opened his eyes alertly while J.J continued sleeping with strands of hair on her face and an impassive expression. Seeing you hidden behind your camera and about to shoot, he relaxed and flashed a lazy, relieved smile, and then you took the photograph.

Spencer smiled at the reminiscence and heard your laughter from the coffee machine. Morgan had said something that seemed funny to you, and you briefly covered your mouth with your hand. Spencer put away the photograph and watched you until somehow you felt his gaze while Derek continued talking to you. Your eyes met Spencer's, and a few seconds passed. You raised the corners of your lips, curving them into a smile, and your eyes arched with a mixture of affection and admiration. Your gaze was calm, and you didn't seem upset because he had canceled your Doctor Who Friday at the last minute for the date with the consultant. At this moment, Spencer couldn't think of a single valid reason to go that was more important than all the reasons he had to stick to his Friday routine of pizza, chess classes, and a marathon of his favorite show with you. Not when you smiled at him like that for a few seconds, and everything he felt just for that brief moment made him think he would be stupid to let go of the opportunity to prolong that feeling in the pit of his stomach all Friday night. Just for that smile.

He approached you while you tried to stop laughing at whatever was so amusing coming from Morgan's mouth, and you diverted your attention to him with curiosity.

"Shall we?"

Your forehead wrinkled slightly, somewhat disoriented.

"Don't you have a date?"

Spencer shrugged with a half-smile.

"We rescheduled," he explained, although the truth was that the girl still hadn't responded, but he hoped not to disappoint her too much.

You frowned. "Are you sure?"

Spencer nodded with the same smile. "Of course, dates can happen anytime, but Doctor Who, pizza, and chess?"

You smiled amusingly. "Only on Friday nights," you murmured in response, and then you said goodbye to Derek, joking about a date he had had the previous weekend. You circled around Spencer, walking toward your desk to get your things while Morgan watched Spencer, following you with his gaze. When Spencer met his friend's careful scrutiny, he saw him raise a little smile and shake his head amusingly.

"I see," he patted Spencer's shoulder. "Now I see it very clearly."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do," he said as a farewell, moving away from him with a relaxed posture just as you approached him with your bag on your shoulder and your camera hanging from your neck.

"Ready?" you asked, and Spencer nodded.

"Ready."

Bestfriend Blurb Masterlist:

#1- When he preferred your smile

#2- When he proved he knows you well

#3- When he wanted you to choose him

#4- When you wanted to make him smile

#5- When you he loved you and you loved him back

[dotster001]

The collapse one was really good! Can I get riddle, Cater, Azul, malleus, and Kalim too?

CW: burnout (obviously), passing out from burnout, References to drinking/overdrinking in Kalim's part

Part One Part Two-Malleus is in here

Riddle's overblot is a textbook case of gifted child burnout I'm not projecting. How! Dare! You! However, you don't learn anything until the third or fourth breakdown. Not projecting. So while he's better, he's not super aware of your feelings and mental state. He tries! He's just not good at it yet. 

So when you're homework load gets exponentially higher after you hit a wall in your studies (due to not knowing anything about this fucking planet) he thinks you've got this under control. Plus he's got his own homework, and his job as housewarden, so he's kind of just hoping if you need help, you'll just outright come to him.

Then he finds you passed out on his bed, face pressed painfully into your books. He panics. Probably runs to get Trey, because he has no idea what to do.

Trey checks you out, then says you'll wake up on your own time, he should just let you rest for now. Riddle tucks you in, then kisses your forehead, and spends the night sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of his bed, hoping you'll wake him when you're up.

You wake up to see your sleeping queen, his  neck in a position that will definitely be sore when he wakes up. You coax sleepy Riddle into the bed with you, and you snuggle the rest of the night away. 

He's pretty smart, so he's been trying to distract you from your stress for a while. If he thinks you're getting too tense, in comes Cay Cay to save the day! But he's about to learn that "distraction" only works for so long.

You're doing homework, while sitting in his room. He's been editing a photo of the two of you, as study buddies, for the past hour, and telling you he'd be right with you every time you asked for him. It's not that you need the editing, but the lighting on him is just off enough…

Once he finishes, he turns to you triumphantly, only to see you snoozing away on your textbook. It's so cute that he has to take another picture! He's so lucky to have you and get to experience moments like these!

It's after the picture, when he tries to gently wake you enough so you can at least get to his bed for the evening, that he realizes you're non responsive.

He panics and does the first thing that comes to mind. Call Trey. Trey calms him down over the phone, then tells him to stay in place until he gets there. He arrives and helps Cater carry you to the hospital wing, where the nurse says that you over extended yourself, and that your body took matters into it's own hands. He sends Cater to get a snack and drink so that he can feed it to you when you wake up, and tells him it'll be best if you stay here for a while so he can ensure your body recoops.

Cater sits on the edge of his chair for hours, his phone scarily unused as he just stares at you. Once you wake up, he wraps you in a hug, explains what happened, and then waits on you hand and foot. He's much more of a nervous mother hen about you from now on. But you know he means we'll.

He's one who it would take a lot for him not to notice. He has had his own collapses, in the time he's spent making himself into his ideal person, many of his tactics not entirely healthy. And he works very hard to make sure you never go through that yourself.

But let's say he's been busy with the opening week of the second lounge location. And he'd normally have the twins…um…observe you from afar, but they are also busy with opening week buzz. So the most he sees of you is a kiss on the cheek in the morning, before he runs off.

Enter a certain crow. To Azul, it doesn't matter what the task was, or how important it was. What matters is that he got a call in the middle of the day that you had passed out in alchemy, and he happens to have lots of dirt on the bird he can give to the school board. When he sees you laying on a medical bed, non responsive, and a sickly color, all he sees is red.

He trusts the nurse to take care of you while he handles some…business…and he and the twins take a trip. Based on what he was told, he has plenty of time before you'll wake up.

When you wake up, Azul is sitting attentively by your side, stroking your hand, the twins standing by the doors. He sends them to get you food and water, and stands patiently as the nurse checks you over. The next several weeks, he keeps you in his room, and treats you to anything you could possibly want, freaking out a little every time you get up. He's just so benevolent, but if you truly want to pay him back, he'll offer a great deal. All he wants is to hold you and remind you of your worth.

O sweet oblivious baby. He has no idea the workload you are dealing with. Partially because when he invites you to a party, you always come with a smile on your face. So the thought that everything you're dealing with is too much…it just never occurs to him.

And he still doesn't really get it. You're asleep at the party, and he's pretty sure you're either worn out, or drank just a little too much. So he sits next to you to stand guard, and potentially snuggle if you wake up and sleepily ask for him.

It's not until Jamil, who is carrying a trash bag full of empty cups and wearing a scowl on his face, points out that you look off, does he start to even question anything. He asks Kalim a lot of questions, and it's through answering that he starts to come to the conclusion that maybe you're not too tired/drank too much. He kind of just stares at Jamil with wide eyes. He has no idea what to do.

Jamil sighs heavily, and scoops you up, carrying you to Kalim's room. He tells Kalim he'll make you some tea, and gives him a cold cloth, telling him to place it on your forehead, and the back of your neck if you start to get hot. He comes back with the tea, assuring Kalim it has healing properties, and then leaves the rest to him.

Kalim watches you for hours, but eventually he falls asleep, his head resting on your stomach. You wake up to him there, drink the tea you assume is yours, and then feel immediately better. You run your fingers through his hair, and he smiles and mutters something happily in his sleep. You smile at him, and drift off into real sleep.

The Asim family donates enough money, the next week, to allow Crowley to hire an assistant.

[evsstolenhearts]

Summary: Spencer comfort you after you have a nightmare

Spencer Reid x gn!BAU!Reader | roughly 900 words | no y/n

Warnings: semi graffiti mentions of blood, a bomb, intrusive thoughts.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

The red and blue lights flash through the windows as you walk through the old school. Gun pointed down and FBI vest too tight. Everything is quite as you walk alone.

You turn the corner to what looks like an identical hallway, rows and rows of doors fill your vision. The lights from the cop cars can no longer be seen from the window. Your legs move on autopilot, your adrenaline rapidly pumping but with every passing second it's as if sludge is filling your brain.

As your body moves on its own, you enter a set of double doors leading to the gymnasium. The lights are off but in the middle of the room is your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. He sits tied to a blue desk chair, hair disheveled, lip split, black eye resting on his beautiful face, and blood running from what is probably a broken nose. But the worst part isn't his injuries, but the bomb strapped to his chest. In a panicked haze, you run to him, dropping your gun as you rapidly inspect the contraption. The timer ticking down from 10.

Crying as you desperately claw at the bomb, all logic being thrown out the window. The tick of the timer rings in your ears, getting louder and louder as the timer gets closer to the end.

Four, three, two, one. Just as the timer finishes, you wake up. Lungs dying to breath, sweat lining your hair line, hands shaking, and heart threatening to beat out of your chest. The fog of the nightmare slowly dissipates, your brain understanding that it was fake.

As you begin to calm down, you sit up, looking over to your boyfriend, seeing him sound asleep in his own world. With a shaky sigh, you gently move the blanket off yourself and swing your legs off the edge of the bed. Grabbing a blanket off Spencer's reading chair he keeps in he corner of the bedroom. It's the fluffy green one you've come home to see laying over his lap as he is completely captivated by some book in Russian many times.

You walk into the kitchen, grabbing a cup, pouring ice and water into it. Sitting on the couch, watching the ice slowly swirl in the cup, moon light coming through the windows, being the only light in the apartment. Putting the cup on a coaster on the coffee table. Staring off at the stacked book left on the floor by both you and Spence, your thoughts begin to wonder.

What if that was a real situation? You cant react like that- you and Spencer would die in that situation. What if Hoth of JJ was in his position and you couldn't save them? They have family's. They have people to go home to. To take care off.

While you sat and stewed, Spencer awake due to your absence. Getting himself out of bed, and padding through the apartment to find you. Once the living room is in view, he finally sees you, making his way way to sit next to you.

"You know, the average adult needs seven to nine hours of sleep to function at top performance. " Spencer softly brings you out of your thoughts, hand rubbing your arm, "and with our job I'd say that functioning at top performance is extremely useful."

Your thoughts calm as you look at Spencer, the adrenaline and anxiety remaining from your dream finally seeming to leave. A barely there smile forms at his facts, "Then why are you awake?"

Spencer's smile copys yours, his only being laced with worry, "Because I couldn't find you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry for worrying you." Your voice lowers as you lean up against him, bringing the blanket over both your laps.

"You don't seem fine." His voice lowers as well, "did you have a nightmare again?"

There's a beat of silence before you sigh, the remnants of your smile falling, "yeah, I did."

"You know, the study of dreams is rather interesting. When it comes to nightmares, they could be caused by a multitude of things, from anxiety, trauma, watching scary movies, stress, poor sleep, or for some people just eating before bed." A small smile forms back over your face as Spencer takes your hands, gently rubbing over the back of them as he talks.

"So, you say my nightmare could have been caused by dinner last night?" You move your head on his shoulder, looking up at Spencer fondly.

He laughs a little, "I'm saying that your nightmare, despite probably being scary, isn't likely to come to fruition. And it's not suprising you have them. We see tragic and gruesome things daily. Everyone in our line of work will get nightmares, it would concern me if they didn't. What matters is that you don't let it affect you in the feild." Spencer's hands haunlt their movements as he looks back down at you. "I love you, Spence." Your voice is barely above a whisper, as if your love is the most sacred thing in the world. And to Spencer? It definitely is.

"I love you too." His volume matches yours, holding onto the moment between the two of you, "do you wanna try and sleep again?"

"I don't wanna, but I will." You mumble.

Spencer guides you from the couch, leaving your cup to be delt with to tomorrow as you go back to bed. Legs entangled and arms holding one another as you doze off to what is hopefully a peaceful sleep.

[letterstotheflre]

cw: a little angsty. hurt/comfort. 18+ plus [sexual situations, mention of scars and child abuse, daryl has body image issues :((]

a/n: ummm this was supposed to be a cute little blurb. maybe 4-5 paragraphs. it became this angsty mess tho </3

thinking about how daryl never takes his shirt off during sex bc he doesn't want you to see or feel his scars </3 he thinks you'll be disgusted by him, that you'll think he's damaged goods. maybe you never want to touch him ever again. maybe you'll never want him to touch you again.

and at first you don't even realise he's doing it because you don't have the privacy or the time to get fully naked. most of your hook ups consist of quickly scurrying off your jeans and underwear to your knees. if it's summer you might get to lower the straps of your tank top to free your boobs. but being so out in the open, so defenceless, doesn't allow for complete stripping.

it's not until alexandria that you start to notice the fact that you're always naked and daryl always keeps his shirt on. sometimes his vest, too. you don't ask though, wouldn't ever pressure him into doing anything he's not comfortable with. you guess he might have his reasons.

until one time when he's buried so deep inside you that you just might lose your mind so you grip his shoulders to keep some of your sanity. and he keeps thrusting, keeps hitting that spot and god, you want him even closer. you don't want him to move an inch away from you. so your hand slips. down to his waist, where his shirt rode up just a little. and he's so warm. so you keep touching him, hand spread open as it moves up to his shoulder and that's when you feel it— the raised, jagged skin.

and the size of it is not even small to have been from an accident or a fight. it throws you off completely. "daryl, what's that?"

he's tense above you. "nothin'," he grunts and nearly slaps your hand away from his back. he pins both of your wrists above your head and thrusts again, hoping that he might be able to make you forget about it.

"daryl—" you gasp when you feel the spongy tip of his cock nearly in the back of your throat from how deep he's fucking you.

"it's nothin', don't worry about it."

"but—"

"jesus, i said it's nothing, woman!" he nearly screams at you. he pulls out completely and looks for his jeans, quickly getting dressed. "that so hard for ya to understand, huh? need me to spell it out for ya?"

"no," you say quietly, looking for some of your own clothes to cover up a little. "i just want to know if—"

his boots slam down on the hardwood floor as he finishes tying the laces. "there's nothing to know!"

you know daryl would never, ever hurt you. still, you can't help but freeze at how loud he's being.

the room is completely silent for the first time in an hour. daryl watches as you stand there in just your panties and tank top, right next to the soft bed, and use the tip of the nail on your pinky finger to pull at the skin around your thumb. he swallows down his shame. "i'm going out," he states and walks out of the room.

you let him go, knowing that he's feeling caged in right now. that his emotions are too big for him sometimes and he needs to get out because he might explode from the sheer size and weight of his anger. it's almost like little daryl was never taught how to process his emotions safely, how to avoid reacting with rage at the first sign of a confrontation.

it's late at night when he sneaks back into the community. if you had to guess, the front door opens at around 11pm. you hear him take off his boots and pad to the living room, where you're sitting cross-legged on the couch with a book laying on your legs.

he's dirty, that's your first observation, but when is he not? he takes his crossbow off and places it on the coffee table then holds a string of 3 three dead squirrels and a single rabbit with his whole fist. "brought dinner," he says.

you look at the pot of cold spaghetti on the stove. you might be able to cook the rabbit and then reheat the pasta in the oven. when you look back at him, daryl is shifting his weight from one leg to another, clearly uncomfortable with the tense silence.

you close the book and stand. "you wanna skin the rabbit?"

he nods. you touch his shoulder in passing and offer him a comforting smile. he follows you into the kitchen and gets to work with his knife, quickly cutting the best pieces of meat on the chopping board and storing the remaining bits he knows you won't eat in a tupper that he'll put on the fridge for another day.

you eat in silence. daryl practically swallows the entire plate in under 10 minutes, sauce splashing into his shirt and all over his face. a light orange hue tints the area around his mouth.

you wash the dishes in silence. you brush your teeth in silence. you get ready for bed in silence. you're about to turn the lights off and go to sleep with your back facing him when he finally speaks. "it was my dad."

he's not looking at you as he talks. instead, he stares at a random spot on the wall in front of him. "he drank a lot, y'know? used, too. didn't matter if it was pot or cocaine or heroin. anythin' he could get his hands on. sometimes he'd be in a real good mood 'n he would take merle and i out for ice-cream. other times... most times," he corrects himself, "he'd be real pissed off. he'd lock me up in a room, no food, no water, and let me out the next day." he gives you a melancholic smile. "s'how i learned how to hunt— had to eat somehow. taught myself how to shoot. found some survival books at the public library that said a lot of useful shit."

he sits up, back facing you completely, and takes his shirt off. you cover your mouth in shock at the sight. three scars in the shape of an 'x' cover most of his shoulderblades. there's others too, smaller only in comparison to the huge ones, littered across his lower back. tentatively, you reach forward and trace the shapes, the puckered skin somehow very soft to the touch.

"when he was really mad, though, he'd use his belt and just... hit." he takes a shuddering breath and rubs his face with his hands, feeling a little wetness around his eyes. "anyway, this ain't even the worst he's done. merle had it worse. spent a lot of time alone with him before i was born and even after he'd try to get him to leave me alone. tried to protect me," he laughs like the sheer idea of someone wanting to keep him out of harm's way is ridiculous.

you scoot forward and hug him sideways. you gently turn his face to you, thumb rubbing soothingly on his chin. "i'm sorry, daryl."

"s'not your fault," he says immediately.

"that's not what i meant. i meant," you pet his head and look him in the eye, "i'm sorry for what happened to you. you didn't deserve any of it, you were just a kid. merle too," you add, knowing how important his brother was to him, even after everything. you kiss his sun-spotted shoulder. "it wasn’t your fault.”

he swallows down the lump in his throat. “i know.”

you keep stroking his hair. “is that why you never took your shirt off? because of the scars?”

“yeah.”

“why, baby?” you whisper incredulously. he shrugs one shoulder. “were you embarrassed? scared i’d say something?“ he is still for a few seconds, almost like he’s considering telling the truth, but ends up shrugging anyway. you know you hit the nail, though.

you shift and sit on his lap, holding his face with both hands so you can look him in the eyes. "those scars... they only show how brave and strong and resilient you are. they're part of you. and you're beautiful, dayl." you kiss him once. "i love every inch of you, including those scars, even though i hate the reason you have them in the first place."

his eyes gleam with tears. they gather in his waterline and he tries his best to keep them away. one manages to stream down his cheek. you brush it away. "it's okay to cry."

almost like he was waiting for your permition, daryl breaks down in a second. he hides his face in your chest, wetting your skin with salt streams. his shoulders shake so much with the force of his sobs that he ends up shaking you, too, caged inside his arms that circle around your waist. there's nothing else for you to do but hold him, allowing him to process his pain for perhaps the first time in decades.

it takes him minutes to calm down. half an hour maybe. when his sobs subside and his hold relaxes, you kiss the top of his head and lay him down on the bed with you. while he's usually the one who holds you at night, this time you are the one holding him. you fall asleep like that: with daryl's face tucked in your chest, your fingers combing through his long hair, nails scratching idly at his scalp.

when you wake up in the morning there's no sign of daryl. you go downstairs, following the sounds of a pan hitting the stove with a little too much force and daryl's loud curse. stepping into the kitchen, you see him, shirtless, throwing away the egg he attempted to crack. you can't help but giggle quietly in amusement— he always underestimates his strength and ends up breaking the entire shell instead of creating a crack big enough to let the gooey egg fall onto the pan.

"morning," you greet, picking up another egg and breaking it for him. the pan sizzles.

his smile is crooked. a little shy. "mornin', sunshine."

[c1oud999]

hi

i just wanted to come on here and talk about my experience with spirituality. warning: longggg post ahead.

basically ive been in the spiritual community for YEARS now. ive had existential crisis since the age of 11 and ive gone through many phases of many different spiritual trends. from law of attraction, to witchcraft, to religious devotion, to law of assumption and now finally non dualism. i read books, meditated for hours and hours, talked to spiritual ppl from all walks of life and watched all the episodes of ganga upanishad (a show i still highly recommend, you can watch on youtube). all this childhood trauma and mental illness made me crave for sweet relief. but nothing really made sense until law of assumption. i thought that that would be it yk. i thought i was done searching but i think that was when i was searching for things the most. i do know i have it in my 4d, when will i see it? i thought i would get all my desires but did not meet success. and then the non dualism trend began and i hopped onto it like pretty much everyone else. i was bewildered at the stuff teachers kept saying. what do you mean everything's an illusion? there's no way that's true. my very real surroundings are causing me VERY real pain and suffering. oh no no there must be a deeper meaning behind all this. and so i read all the books in 4dbarbies drive, but nothing clicked. yes it made sense intellectually, but i didnt want to believe it bc where is the materialisation satisfaction here? also i felt none of the euphoria that was supposed to come with self realisation. which means i must not be a realised being. and then i cried and cried and cried, isolated myself, literally stopped going to school and just lay in bed all day. but ofc, i continued to read the tumblr posts like i had been doing for the past several years. and yesterday i read 4dkelly's post about giving up. it made sense. by the time i had finished reading the post i had truly given up on everything. on wanting, hoping, fearing, striving etc etc. i was SO tired. so i gave up. fell asleep. i woke up really late as usual and missed the school bus. i ate breakfast in silence, switched the tv on and lied down on the couch like always. and like always out of compulsion and force of habit i reached for my phone and looked up non dualism on twitter. and then i came across a tweet that said a simple sentence only- "nothing is ever actually happening." woah. that kinda drove me to the edge of the cliff i desperately wanted to jump off. i turned on some dnb background music and turned the shower on. i stood under the boiling hot water like some dramatic bitch and started piecing together the "puzzle". it all made so much sense now. i got out of the shower and left the house for the first time in months with a cute outfit and makeup on and everything. i went to the mall, bought candles, stickers, eye masks, coffee, and a doughnut with absolutely no social anxiety at all. i sat by window, read some poetry on my e-reader, cried, peered down at the floor below me and cried some more at the sight of little kids sitting on santa's lap and taking pictures and marveled at all the christmas decorations around me. it was insane. i decided i was going to be neutral towards everything but im in love. maddeningly so. in love with this dream that i thought did not love me back. but love is all there is. I AM ALL THERE IS. and i need you to take this literally. there is nothing happening. there is nothing here except you. nothing to fear, nothing to desire. ik a lot of people are going to dismiss this post because it's not a "materialisation success story" but i honestly dont think i can ever want anything physically bc in all its true essence, what is there to materialise? i am already whole and complete. i am lying on this cold hard floor, but i have never felt warmer. also ik there may be a lot of things ive written you might not agree with but again, this is NOT REAL. I AM. i hope this post helps you.

thank you to all the blogs ive come across and all the pointers they have shared: @se1f @realisophie @itgomyway @4dkellysworld @4dbarbie-backup @infiniteko @iamthat-iam and many more i cannot thank enough.

lots and lots of love (more than you can ever imagine), and good luck.

[hannie-dul-set]

YOU’RE MY BUCKET LIST.

p — SHEN QUANRUI x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, lovestruck! ricky trying his darnest to be cool. w — swearing, secondhand embarrassment what did you expect from me. 2.8k words.

note — rewriting the backstory of his leopard print shirt. my loser idolverse is expanding. no one is safe. who should i throw into the depths of patheticness next.

ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists.

what need is there for a list of things he wants and wants to do before he dies when he can get and do everything he wants in an instant? if he wants to go bungee jumping, he can go to gangwon-do this afternoon. if he wants to date, he’s got a couple dozen numbers he can pick and choose to call. if he’s craving for authentic italian wine right out of the cellar, he can book a flight and visit all of europe with his phone as his only luggage. 

he lacks nothing, and therefore he wants nothing. ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists— he didn’t believe in bucket lists. at least not until that damned day of reckoning, when the nonexistence of his list suddenly came to existence, harboring one thing and one thing only. 

there’s only one thing he’d like to tick off before he dies. one thing he wants as soon as possible. something that isn’t instantaneously achievable. something that unfamiliarly feels out of his grasp.

ricky, more than anything in the world, wants you to take him fucking seriously.

“you’re so pretty today.” 

is what he says, the moment you enter the office. well, two moments after you enter the office because he had to take the first moment to admire how pretty you are before verbalizing it. he’s down horrendous, he knows— totally outside of the image he’s perfectly curated for the past six months since entering university. you’re the chair of his department’s council, a third year, and by some mystical force or another (read: being stupidly whipped) he volunteered to help prepare for a department event and managed to drag the rest of his friends into it.

said friends being gyuvin and gunwook, who are looking at him in judgment and disgust after completing his daily routine of complimenting your face.

“aw, how cute,” is your reply. ricky wracks his brain for another word for pretty, but you’re quick to move one and leave him in the dust. “thank you, ricky! you’re so sweet. anyway, matthew, how’s the—”

gyuvin snorts. “hey, at least she thinks you’re cute.” ricky throws him a punch but it falls weak from the mental damage. 

cute. he hates it. he’s grown to hate it after it became the symbol of you thinking of him as nothing but your cute junior. are his daily compliments not enough of a giveaway that’s he’s lowkey fucking in love with you? what else do you want? a truckload of roses? a barbershop quartet illustrating through song how stupidly down bad ricky shen is for his unbothered senior?

knowing you, even if he gets on stage in front of the whole university and perform a three-act play of how he fell, head first with scraped knees, into the tunnel of torture that is you and your pretty smile, you’d probably just ruffle his hair and coo, “good job! you’re so talented, angel!” because he’s so cute, so lovely, so never going to be boyfriend-able in your eyes and it eats his despairing soul.

maybe if he rips his heart out of his chest and you see the gaping, you-shaped hole it’ll leave behind, you might finally get the idea.

“quit being a drama queen,” gunwook says, throwing a ball at ricky’s bedroom door that’s been locked shut for a good hour now. it bounces right back into his palm and gyuvin is laying flat on the floor next to him. “it could be that she knows you’re into her, but she’s just trying to reject your advances gently because she doesn’t want to hurt you.”

gunwook and gyuvin hear a crash from inside ricky’s room. 

“that’s— that’s, no. i don’t even want to think about that!”

they’re waiting for him to finish changing (if he is just changing. the crashes in his room are becoming sources of concern). you invited them for a nice buffet dinner to celebrate the success of the event. however, the three of them are already thirty minutes late for the restaurant appointment, and hanbin had to come over and pick them up with taerae in tow after hearing the news that ricky shen— cool guy extraordinaire— is having a breakdown over a girl. 

there are now four men waiting in front of ricky’s locked bedroom. gyuvin gets sick and tired and starts banging on the door. “hurry up! do you want to keep the love of your life waiting?”

“damn, you guys were serious,” taerae posits. “is he actually in love with her?”

“i’m afraid so,” gunwook solemnly shakes his head. 

hanbin hits another concerned knock on his door, and lo and behold, ricky finally cracks open his bedroom door and walks out—

walks out in an ensemble that they can only unanimously describe as jarring. 

leopard print. leather pants. gold chain necklace. a pair of shades are hanging on the way too low cut shirt and they wonder if he’s gonna wear them indoors. he’s got a leather jacket folded over his arm and it’s twenty four fucking degrees.

“what do you think?” ricky asks, eyes proud, expectant, and sparkly. hanbin doesn’t have the heart to break it to him. “i read somewhere that the pattern symbolizes, uh, confidence and sexiness, i think. this will make her stop thinking that i’m cute, right?”

“yeah,” gyuvin replies. “she’ll think you’re hideous instead.”

“google tells me that the leopard print is a symbol of, and i quote, absolute femininity.” gunwook has his eyes trained on his phone. he looks up and gives ricky a once-over. “if you’re trying to go for the femme fatale look, then you’re doing a good job.”

it takes a moment for ricky to react.

when he does, his reaction consists of grabbing onto the hem of his allegedly ugly shirt and starts pulling it over his head.

“whoa, whoa, whoa— what are you doing?!”

gunwook quickly tries to stop him from stripping. gyuvin is laughing his ass off. taerae has a hand covering his mouth. hanbin is stressed. “quit picking on him! ricky, you look fine!” ricky is not fine. his styled hair is not disheveled and he’s visibly upset and sulking. gyuvin is losing his mind. he’s on the floor and hitting the ground.

“are you trying to be cute right now?” taerae asks. this just scrunches up ricky’s brows even more and makes his bottom lip jut forward.

“n...no…?”

“well, shit,” taerae laments. “it’s a genetic disease. she’s never gonna take you seriously.”

the only emotion ricky knows is despair.

he’s supposed to be hot and sexy and handsome, why can’t you see that? do you have a pink filter when you look at him, or something? is that it? that’s gotta be it, right? because why else would you be so unaffected when he feigns nonchalance, brushing through his hair at a precise timing when he notices you starting to turn to his direction. it’s your heart that should be beating like crazy when he greets you with a half-smile and a nod— not his, not his, not his when you return it with a full-smile, so bright and beaming, of your own.

“oh, you’re finally here!”

ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists. he lives in the moment. he doesn’t want things so desperately to the point where he writes them down on a checklist taped to his desk. the list definitely doesn’t have the words “get miss department chair to fall in love with me” written on it with scrawled letters. and he doesn’t didn’t give himself a deadline to date you by the end of the year.

he’s given himself until the day he dies because the moment he met you was the first time he imagined watching someone walking down the aisle. 

yes, he’s down bad. yes, he sings hopelessly devoted to you in the shower five times a week and replaced the word you with your name. yes, gyuvin has a recording. 

“ah, we’ve been waiting for you, kids,“ you say once they’ve all settled on their seats. kids. he scoffs. insult to injury. he’s pouting and picking on a plate of galbi. he feels like shit even though you’re sitting right across him all pretty and sweet like the strawberry shortcake you ordered— which he’s trying his damn best to not steal a slice from because he’s pretty sure you’re just gonna go, “oh! you really like strawberries, don’t you? so cute,” and he’d much rather choose physical over emotional torment, thank you very much.

“they were caught up in something,” taerae responds to your initial statement. your eyes gloss over them with curiosity.

“why? what took you guys so long?”

four sets of eyes are on ricky and his patterned shirt. the bossam wrap in his mouth won’t swallow down his throat. it was too late for him to change out of the symbol of femininity. mid-strip, hanbin got a text from you so he got dragged out, guilty in leopard prints and gold, out of his apartment.

don’t you fucking dare, ricky glares at the suspicious look gyuvin is wearing as he brings a glass of water to his lips. gyuvin clears his throat, “we had to wait for ricky who was dressing to impress y—” and is subsequently elbowed and chokes on his water.

hot. ricky feels hot. not the sexy kind, but the icky embarrassing kind because he wants to cover his burning face and stab gyuvin with a fork in the process.

“oh?” you voice out from across the table. you’re plucking out wads of tissue paper for a dying gyubin but your eyes are trained on him. oh my god. he wants to rip this shirt off and die, but he can’t do that. he can’t. he hasn’t been working out enough lately due to stress. “not everyone can pull off animal prints. it looks really good on you.”

huh.

“and you’re not wearing your usual silver! you look cool today, ricky.”

oh.

what.

“you really think so?” gyuvin, who has now recovered, eggs you on further in behalf of his malfunctioning friend. there’s steam rising to the ceiling and it’s not from the open grill. he exchanges glances with gunwook and taerae. they catch the signal and press on. “doesn’t he look—”

“—would you dare say—”

“—handsome?”

“hot?”

“sexy?”

you let out something in between a cough and a laugh. 

they don’t miss the flustered jitter filtering the sound coming out of your throat.

mission success.

“ahaha, what are you kids saying?” ricky doesn’t miss it either. the initial shock of you not calling him cute has worn off and now it’s up to him to finish what his friends have started. he doesn’t miss the way you try to brush them off while fanning your face with your free hand, the way you reach out for a glass of water with the other and there’s a nervous bob in your throat when you swallow. “a—anyway, let’s make a toast for the success of our event!”

when he clinks his glass with yours, ricky  maintains eye contact amidst the noise of the cheers. his gaze is deep and you’re caught off guard— escaping with a laugh and turning away as you down half of your beer glass in one go. holy crap. holy shit, it’s working.

ricky can see it. there’s hope for his bucket list. he’s gonna swear by leopard shirts and gold chain necklaces if he continues to get this kind of reaction from you.

“it’s not because of the ugly shirt.”

gyuvin snaps him back to sanity once dinner concluded and they start leaving the restaurant. “it’s because we manipulated her brain waves into finally noticing that you’re hot,” gunwook inserts. they’re all outside now. you’re bidding the other members goodbye and gunwook nudges him forward. “you’re welcome. you owe us a meal.”

now, even with the newfound confidence and hope, ricky’s knees still buckle when he approaches you from behind. why is the back of your head still pretty? why?

at the moment, it’s taerae’s turn to receive your goodbyes, wedged between two cars, one of them his. he notices ricky’s looming nervous wreck of a presence from over your shoulder. “ah, and this is my cue to leave,” he says. “thanks for the meal, miss chair. get home safe.”

“you too, taerae! thanks!”

when you turn around, you bump into him. maybe he intended it, maybe not, but god damn the uncharacteristic flutter of your surprised eyes is destroying his plans to act cool, act nonchalant, act totally unaffected with how prettily you’re looking at him under the dim parking lot lights and the night sky. “oh!” you exclaim after reformatting, after putting on your doting senior voice again and it kills him because that’s a night of progress down the drain. “are you kids heading out now? oh, sorry, this is your car, right? i’ll get out of the way.”

he frowns. totally uncool, perfectly non-nonchalant, and completely affected but he doesn’t care anymore. 

“what do you think of me?”

the words jump out before he knows it. screw his bucket list. he’s gonna proclaim his undying love for you even if it kills him.

you blink. “what?” a laugh bubbles from your throat— a mix of trying-to-brush-him-off but nervous at the same time. “ricky, what do you mean?”

his face is knotting up. he’s totally pouting right now which he’d rather be caught dead than doing, but he’s now twice the dead man. ricky takes a step forward. you take a step back until no more steps can be taken because your back hits against his car, and he’s grasping at the straws desperate to get even an ounce of a hint of a sign that you’re finally taking him seriously. “what do you think of me?” he repeats, voice a little lower this time. your expression is completely taken over by peaches of fluster, this time. no sign of the composure you’ve usually perfectly maintained.

“oh, uhm.” your hands are unsure and held hostage in the air because his arms serve as a barricade around you, palms pressed tightly against the cold glass of the front seat window. you’re nipping at your bottom lip. ricky just died thrice. “what—what i think of you? well, uh, you’re a very good, very cute, very hardworking junior that i adore, and i—i appreciate all the help you’ve offered to the counci— oh!”

ricky lets out a noise and buries his nose into the crook of your neck, arms that were once caging you are now completely wrapped around your waist. he’s putting all of his weight onto you. he is a corpse. he mumbles something unintelligible into you skin and you ask him to repeat it. “i don’t like it,” he says more clearly, still muffled, whiney all the same. “i’m not cute. i’m cool and handsome and totally in love with you but you just don’t get it.”

it’s quiet. ricky is anticipating the worst, which would be you calling him lame and a loser, but you don’t do that. you don’t push him off either.

“how can i not think you’re cute when you act like this?”

instead you pull him in closer. his eyes widen, and he feels your fingers digging into his hair, a tender touch on his nape, and he feels himself melting and turning into stone at the same time. 

“i never thought you were being serious every time you greeted me by calling me pretty. i thought you were just being playful and trying to earn extra points from me,” you hum. he sinks further. the only thing propping him up is you. “but calling someone pretty every day is barely a confession, ricky. how was i supposed to get anything from that? gosh, you’re so cute.”

“it usually works,” he mumbles. he doesn’t want to show you his face. he probably looks stupid right now. “i thought my new shirt worked too. gyuvin and gunwook don’t agree.”

“i think it’s cool.”

you finally pry him off, hands on his shoulders and he feels himself buckling. he’s pretty sure he looks stupid right now— pink and flushed and dizzy, but your face harbors no judgment. “i think i prefer the shirt owner over the shirt though.” only a familiar gaze of fondness and god, he’s so in love and you finally understand that. “now, why the hell are gyuvin and gunwook still loitering out here?”

ricky didn’t believe in bucket lists. at least not until that damned day of reckoning, when the nonexistence of his list suddenly came to existence, harboring one thing and one thing only. 

now, he’s got that one thing crossed out. he’s thinking of adding more.

YOU’RE MY BUCKET LIST. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[makncheese12]

Can I request the most cheesy one bed trope with fem!reader x Amber Freeman fluff? Maybe they all have a movie night before? 💙

I love, love, love Amber freeman so yes. I have a thing against one bed trope because it happened to me but I will give you this Anon🫶🏻

Amber freeman x Fem!reader

Masterlist

Warnings: my writing, softy soft amber

A little closer

You sat quietly in the dark room. Eyes reading over the words with the little lighting you had from the dim street lamp. The only sounds heard are the quiet voices on the TV and the quiet snores of the person next to you who began to shuffle slowly next to you.

You look over to see your girlfriend sitting up slowly, back turned to you as she raises her arm up clearly rubbing her eyes before stretching her arms up.

You smiled at the sight of the oh so tough Amber Freeman acting like a cute toddler in her tired state. It was times like these that you appreciated the most, seeing Amber like this when no one else could.

Though you knew you still weren’t allowed to tell anyone else about it or she would in fact kill both you and the people you told. Not that you ever would, you wanted to be the only one to see and know this.

She pats the bed for a moment, head almost yanking to the spot she was patting making your smile grow.

You reach out and touch her back before running your hand up and down on it making her look back at you with half closed eyes.

As soon as she recognized you, she turned and moved you arm with the book in your hand — while glaring at it — before basically laying her entire body on you.

“You moved.” She mumbled as her face buried itself into your neck making you lift you head and put your chin on top of it.

“No, you did. If I remember correctly you said ‘you’re too sweaty’ with sweat across your forehead and moved away.” You stated matter of factly, chuckling when she pinched you stomach.

“Ow.” You mumble as you feel her breath fan across your neck. She sucks in a breath heavily before slowly letting the air out.

She does it again and this time you squirm, the feeling tickling you slightly. “What are you doing, stop it.” You say as you playfully try to push her head away.

A loud whine escapes her throat making you stop. She really must have been tired to be acting like this, even for you this wasn’t normal. “You smell good, I like it.”

“Well, as your girlfriend I would hope so.” You mumble, pulling the book over her back to continue where you stopped while using your other hand to rub her back.

She grumbles quietly before pushing her back up and continues to bump the book, unable to focus on the words you roll your eyes and place a hand on her head and scratch her scalp.

It only helps for a moment before she reaches up and grabs your arm before yanking it down causing the book to go flying out of your grasp and onto the floor with a thund.

“Amber, what the hell!” You say as she moves back to her comfortable position in your neck. You sit in silence as she mumbles to herself.

She stops for a moment as you begin rubbing her back and patting her head before continuing her quiet mumbles

“What?” You ask turning your head, she huffs before her incoherent mumbling becomes louder making you roll your eyes once again in one night.

“Speak up baby, I can’t hear you.” You say making her huff even louder before moving her mouth from your (her) sweat shirt.

“We didn’t finish the movie.” She says, voice raising louder than needed but getting the point across. You look to the screen to see the movie you set had finished just hours before, not playing an after midnight show.

“Correction,” you say as you reach over the remote. “You didn’t finish the movie, I did.” You finish making her pinch you again before snatching the remote.

She mindlessly scrolled through the different movies and shows before glancing toward you.

“Why are you still awake, anyway?” She asks before looking back to the TV before setting on an older episode of sponge bob.

“You’re the one who decided it was good idea to get me coffee before school,” you say watching her throw the remote and settle back into her spot, expect this time much closer.

“You’re to blame.” You finish as you wrap your arms around her, ignoring the third pinch as your eyes focus on the screen and the breathing of you girlfriend.

After a few minutes she began squirming in your hold causing you to look down to see why she was so restless.

“Amber,” you call as she continues to move about on you. “What’s wrong now?”

“You’re not close enough.” She grumbles as she uses her hands to hold herself up. “Get closer.”

“I don’t think that’s possible babe.” You chuckle and as she crawls over you. She glares at you making you smile.

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to be closer to me?” She asks looking down at you, slightly tilting her head.

You smile at the sight, tiredness clear in her eyes. The whole situation was adorable and you couldn’t get enough. If only she were like this all the time. Clingy, needy and soft. It would be perfect with the personality she has.

Of course, she was nicer to you than anyone else. Much nicer, definitely a ‘mean to everyone but you’ type but this was different from how she’d usually act.

“I never said that, I just said I didn’t know if it were possible.” You smile and stare down at you, moments passing before she spoke again.

“Yes it is, I personally can get a little closer.” She mumbled before dropping herself completely on top of you causing you to huff from the suddenly weight and pressure. “Yes, this feels much closer.” You mumble, looking down you see her head resting gently on your chest.

She seemed less restless now making you smile.

You both go back to watching TV before her breath evens out. Your smile only grows as you reach toward your night stand and grab your phone.

You switch it to camera mode and snap a few pictures of her squished face on your chest.

You scroll through pictures and contemplate sending it to Mindy or Tara. Knowing the consequences, it would end badly but it can’t get too bad. For you, at least.

You smirk and open your messages. If you die, you’ll die peacefully knowing you have these cute pictures in your phone, hidden from your raging girlfriend in the private file.

You just had to share how close she thought she could get.

A/N:

The end is a tad bit rushed I’ll fix it later<3

[fandomnsfw]

Pack Mom pt.2 - Derek Hale x Reader

Pairing: Derek x Reader

Prompt: Request! – Liam starts getting jealous when Isaac gets more attention than him, soon it becomes a competition between them that you decide to indulge in. (Also inspired by Woman – Honne.)

Warning: None! Just FLUFFFFF!

ENJOY!!

*****

“Isaac honey can you pass me the butter.” You muttered as you grabbed the bread from the cupboard.

“Okay Mama!” He smiled as he grabbed the butter from the fridge bouncing over to you as you grabbed a knife out the draw.

“Thank you baby.” You smiled at him softly ruffling his hair. You started buttering the bread placing different ingredients on each sandwich. Lydia and Erica had a BLT. Liam, Mason, Cory and Stiles had a PBJ and Derek, Isaac and Jackson all had plain cheese and ham. You had a peanut butter and Nutella fried, kind of like grilled cheese. When you were frying your sandwich you heard yelling start from the front room.

“No fair! It’s my turn!” Liam screeched.

“NO IT’S NOT!” Scott scoffed before you heard more shuffling.

“Ow don’t bite me!” Liam whined making you wince slightly.

“Actually I think it’s my turn.” Derek deadpanned as you heard more movement.

“Listen old man!” Jackson yelled angrily.

You switched off the hob before storming into the living room to see Scott, Liam, Jackson and Derek rolling around on the floor fighting over the Xbox controller. Your hand immediately went to your hips as you waited for them to notice you. Lydia was sat reading but she looked up to acknowledge you before going back to her book.

“DEREK!” You screamed eventually when you realized they weren’t going to notice you.

“Shit!” You heard him muttered before de-tangling himself from the boys.

“Scott get off your brothers!” You snapped as you tapped you bare foot against the floor. Once they were all stood in front of you, head down in an attempt not to test what patience you had left.

“Every time I start making food somehow you always seem to interrupt me by acting like morons!” You huffed angrily.

“The Xbox can go off now. Derek you can come pour me a glass of wine. Lord knows I need it. Scott you can finish the reading you have for school. Jackson how about you study for the maths test coming up. Ask Lydia for help if you need it. Liam you can come sit in the kitchen.” You ordered pointing at each one of them as you snapped your orders, Scott and Jackson groaned but did as they were told. You made you way back to the kitchen Liam following closely behind. You told him to sit at the breakfast bar while you got out the first aid kit. You wiped always the blood noticing the bite mark almost gone completely, which you were thankful for.

“Mama?” Liam murmured softly, a blush on his face.

“What baby?” You said as you threw the used antiseptic wipe in the bin.

“Can I have a hug?” He fiddle with the bottom of his shirt nervously as he waited for your response. You smiled but leaned over to hug him tightly. His head laying against your chest probably able to hear you heart beating. He hugged you back but the moment only lasted a few more seconds because you heard Isaac start talking.

“Mama I’m hungryyy.” He whined, a pout gracing his face. You pulled away from Liam and nodded before you went back to making food.

You glanced at Isaac and Liam as you went to turn the hob back on. You noticed that they were thoroughly glaring at each other which you thought was weird, shaking your head you chose the let it go.

After the pack has finished eating they went back to their houses, except Isaac who went upstairs to study, leaving you alone with Derek. You had college tomorrow but you didn’t feel like staying in your dorm with your overly happy roommate. You cuddled into Derek as he flipped through the films that were on the TV, his pick of film made you laugh. As much as he a Stiles bicker their love for Star Wars was always what had them chatting like they were best friends.

“I think you should move in with me.” Derek spoke after half an hour of silence through the film. You looked up at him shocked by the sudden statement, his eyes still glued on the TV like he felt embarrassed somehow.

“Oh really? Would you like to look at me and ask me instead of telling me?” You snorted, crossing your arms in playful anger.

“Y/N Y/L/N will you move in with me?” He huffed with false confidence as he gazed in your eyes.

“I would love to Derek. Now I need to sleep because I have class at 8. Night Der.” You muttered as you wandered up the stairs. You stopped at Isaac’s room to see him sprawled over his bed with his homework thrown everywhere which made you smile to yourself. You carefully moved the papers to his computer desk and threw his covers over him, brushing his curly hair away from his face. After making sure he was okay, you went to yours and Derek’s shared bedroom getting dressed into one on Derek’s tops before getting into bed.

*****

“Isaac breakfasts ready!” You screamed up the stairs as you checked the time once again. Isaac ran down stairs dressed and ready for school. He kissed your cheek before he sat down next to you digging into his breakfast.

“Thank you Mama.” He said with half of a piece of bacon hanging out his mouth.

“Isaac don’t talk with your mouthful. It’s rude.” You instructed your voice soft yet stern. He nodded and continued chewing his food before you realized it was already 7.30am. You got up and kissed Derek on the cheek, who was sat silently with a coffee in his hand. Isaac followed closely behind hoping into the passenger seat.

“I need to talk to Derek about getting you a car or a bike.” You muttered as the pulled away from the Hale house.

“I don’t need a car mama I’m fine.” Isaac whispered slowly like he was worried about how Derek would react.

“Yes you do and don’t argue with me. Derek will agree too. Everyone else has a way to get around so which would you prefer bike or car?”

“Mama I do-”

“I think a bike since you love riding with Scott.” You interrupted before he could reject the offer again. After that you and Isaac chose to stay quiet for the rest of the time in the car. When you arrived at Beacon Hills High School you got out the car to greet the pack which was making their way over to your car.

“Ma-Y/N shouldn’t you be at college?” Scott voiced as they stopped in front of you.

“I’m going after this. Derek said he would drop him off but it’s on my way so I thought I’d do it today. Plus I have some good news.” You stated before ruffling Liam’s hair which made him preen.

“I’m moving in full time with Derek.” You added after pulling your hand away from Liam.

“That’s awesome!!” Erica screeched making Stiles roll his eyes.

“Right I’ve gotta go. Liam be good everyone else looking after him and make sure you don’t fight. You know it may seem like play fighting to werewolves but to humans it looks brutal and I’m not dealing with another call from Natalie telling me you’ve earned yourself detention for 2 weeks!”

“Yes Mom.” They are voiced sarcastically.

*****

When everyone came over for dinner that night it wasn’t just the pack but also the parents, who had yet to find out about your new name. It happened when you were helping Melissa cook while the Sheriff, Chris and Derek sat around the breakfast bar chatting away.

“JACKSON GIVE IT BACK! MAMA!!!!” Stiles screamed as he chased Jackson into the kitchen. Everyone stopped to stare at you but you paid no mind.

“JACKSON! Put that down before I take away your new phone!” You yelled as you stirred the chicken pieces around the wok.

“What you didn’t buy that though!!” Jackson screamed angrily his foot stomping angrily.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You responded, your tone calm with a sickly sweet smile joining as you turned to look at him.

“I mean! I’m sorry Stiles here’s your comic book and I love you Mama!” He replied in a rushed way that made you smirk.

“That’s what I thought now, boy’s front room I don’t wanna tell you twice.” You added as you watched the boys bicker as they walked into the front room. You turned your attentions to the 3 sets or wide eyes staring at you, realizing what you had done you blushed and picked up your glass of wine.

“I think we should leave the kids here and go into early retirement.” Noah snorted making Derek go deathly pale.

“So your pack mom now?” Chris added nodding in agreement as he did, you nodded before going back to food. Once dinner was ready you all moved to the dining room to sit down but then just like every aspect of your life turned into another argument.

“But you always sit next to Mama I wanna sit next to her today!” Liam whined his bottom lip sticking out slightly.

“No it’s my seat pipsqueak.” Isaac mocked as he made his way to the seat.

“Isaac you can sit next to Melissa.” Your voice made no room for arguments with made everyone stop awkwardly.

“Bu-”

“Isaac.” Was all Derek said as everyone finally started to situate themselves.

During dinner everything was full of chatter and laughs except Isaac who sat there pushing his food around his plate aimlessly. You knew what was happening Isaac had been the baby of the pack for years until Liam came along. You could tell he was jealous and they were competing but you also knew that you loved everyone in this pack equally, well except Peter because he’s a maniac and Derek who is possibly the love of your life.

You knew Isaac felt left out but he had to learn you weren’t just his. After dinner you started cleaning up but Chris and Noah quickly took over saying that you and Melissa should rest, so you did. As soon as you sat down Liam began speaking to you.

“Mama would you like a drink?” He asked hopefully.

“I can rub your feet if you want?” Isaac tried to interrupt.

“I could put on your favorite film if you want.” Liam grit his teeth as he smiled, as if trying to control his anger.

“Boys just sit down.” You groaned before flopping onto Derek’s chest.

That night the entire pack stayed over, the big house full of giggles and teasing but what got you the most was every 5 minutes Liam and Isaac asked if you wanted anything or tried to get your attention. By the time it was midnight you had enough of the bickering so you told everyone to sit down and watch a film or they could go to their own rooms. Thankfully they listened.

“Mama would you like some popcorn?” Liam asked gently as the movie got to about half way through.

“Mama doesn’t like salted popcorn.” Isaac snickered making you pause the film and tell Erica to turn the light on.

“Right I’ve had enough of this competing! I am not a toy that you can fight over nor am I everyone’s favorite lamppost to piss up!” You screamed angrily as you threw the remote controller onto the couch.

“I love you all equally! You are all my baby’s in some way! If you had two babies would you love them differently?” You added, your arms crossing over your chest as you tried to maintain calm.

“No.” Isaac muttered, his cheeks glowing red.

“Well then don’t expect that from me! I love you all the exact same amount!” You huffed before hearing Derek re-enter the living room. Everyone was staring at you with sad eyes but you knew it was because they all felt bad.

After everyone had gone to bed you and Derek made your way up to your bed room changing into one of Derek’s tops before sliding into bed with a sigh. Derek got in without a word kissing you passionately which made you squeak in surprise. One he pulled back he smiled down at you lovingly his thumb tracing circles on your cheeks.

“Thank you for being the best Pack Mom ever.” He whispered gently, his hands making their way into your hair.

That’s night Derek made love to you over and over again his love pouring out over and over until you were overloaded with his feelings.

This man is the love of your life and he gave you everything you ever wanted.

A family.

Part 1 <- -> Part 3(fin)

[slashers-and-rats]

I’m gnawing at the bone for any kind of Brahms Heelshire x Reader content 🙏🏼🙏🏼

-🔪🩸

rat chat: first off, excited for my first ever tagged anon. v cool. secondly, i hope this satiates your needs.

brahms heelshire x gn!reader | nsfw |

brahms wasn’t a social man, if that wasn’t obvious. even after he had revealed himself to you, and you had accepted him with open arms, he found himself struggling to be in your presence all the time. there wasn’t any doubt he liked you, that wasn’t the case. he was comparable to a cat. he curled up on your lap, and pestered you for pats and scratches, and when he was finished, he’d disappear for hours on end with little regard for your own needs. it was something he was working on. consideration didn’t come naturally to him, especially after so much of his life was spent worrying about how he would survive and nothing else.

that’s not to say brahms didn’t want you around. he desperately craved you, just in different ways. while he felt anxious being around you physically, he kept himself close to you within the safety of his walls. anywhere you were, he was there too, just stowed away within his passages.

he enjoyed keeping an eye on you, and observing the way you went about your business. you were an alien to him, a new species, and he was your observer. you kept to a tight schedule, and he memorized your routine down to the last detail.

he also had a small habit of stealing your things. to him, these were specimens; they were little items for him to study and examine to understand you better. he liked nabbing things you wouldn’t miss. sometimes it was pieces of jewelry you never used, sometimes it was books he’d seen you finish, sometimes it was even the cutlery you had used and put away for cleaning. he added it all to his hoard. if you had seen it, he was sure you’d think it a shrine, but it wasn’t as simple as that. it was a nest. being so close to these things you had interacted with made him feel warm inside, comfortable, and he liked laying among them as if to pretend you were there too.

brahms had a habit of getting carried away, though. during the night, when he had no real reason to watch you for more than an hour or two, he’d crawl back to his little sanctuary and lay among his collection. he’d stare up at the ceiling, and grab his most prized possession. it was a pair of your underwear, taken off the floor of the bathroom during one of your showers. he was sure you would’ve noticed, but you had been tired that day, and didn’t check your clothes before throwing them into the hamper.

they smelled of you. they smelled of sin, and of naughty thoughts, and of dark desires. when he rubbed them against his face, and breathed your scent in deep, he’d feel dirty but alive. there was something about the shame of it all, about how if you saw him you’d be disappointed, that made it all the more delicious. those moments when you chastised him for something bad he did were his favourite, because it meant you were giving him your full attention. that’s all he really wanted, to be seen by you. he wished it didn’t involve so much… physical presence.

this was good enough for him. these little moments, when he would yank his pants down his hips and reach his hand down, and pretend it was yours; when he’d grip hard at his base, and stroke up and down slowly, and pretend you were sitting on his face, it was good. it brought momentary bliss. he’d smother himself with the fabric of your underwear, and use it to muffle his wanton moans. he’d fuck into his hand, and pretend you were the one bouncing recklessly on him.

he had such a specific fantasy. he wanted you to find him stroking himself, indulging in the dirtier things in life- and he wanted you to relieve him. he wanted you to walk up to him when he hadn’t even realized you were there, and take over for him. his hands were too rough- yours were so soft and gentle. even when you were mad, you had such a caring touch about you. you’d wrap your hands around his cock, and pump him slow, and watch him writhe and whine for you. he’d be so surprised, but so happy. he wouldn’t fight. he might beg for you to go faster, or plead that you use more than just your hand, but you wouldn’t budge. he didn’t deserve it yet, not after stealing your things and using them for such nefarious purposes.

you’d massage his balls, and praise him. he wouldn’t be able to look at you. even thinking about it made him embarrassed, and made him push his face further into hiding. he tried to mimic what you would do to him, how you’d squeeze your hand around him, and rub his balls until he felt tight. he tried to be good for you even then, by whispering your name and promising he’d be good. sure, he was speaking to nothing but air, but it was the thought that counts.

brahms would shove his shirt and sweater high up on his chest, letting himself feel the cool air hit his skin. he was so hot, so needy as he stroked himself. he could barely focus on his own fantasies. he kept getting lost in the feeling, lost in the very idea of you being there. he could imagine you smiling down at him, so smug. he liked it when you looked cocky, like you knew exactly who he was and how to press his buttons.

he’d cum hard. his load would spread onto his stomach and part of his chest, and it would feel scorching against his skin. it would make him sob, shaking and fucking the last aftershocks out of his cock until he was soft. he’d let go, panting like a dog, tired. with a huff, he’d remove your underwear from his face and discard it into its special place in his nest, careful to keep it somewhat hidden in case you ever did stumble into his little sanctuary.

brahms liked you. he liked being around you. he liked what you did to him. he knew if you saw your effect on him, that you’d like it just as much.

maybe one day he’d show you.

[hope-drunk]

abbys the type of gf who, if you started to slack off in class or with homework and stuff, would withhold kisses or touches until you got your shit done. shes hard on you but its only bc she wants to see you thrive in your academics, because she knows you can do it

okay we already know that i think abby would withhold intimacy as punishment (per my abby and doggy drabble)

but this is like a new level! she would do this even though it hurts her too. i'm gonna rope clingy!abby into this too... she misses your touch so bad but she knows that it's the best way to make you do your work.

you go to abby's dorm after a long day of classes and she lets you relax for a little bit, you lay on her and she rubs your back, tries to get out a bit of the stress that the day has caused. but after an hour or so she's telling you it's time to start doing your work.

"c'mon, kid. up. i know you've got some stuff to get done."

"but i spent all day in classes, abs. wanna lay down."

she lightly pushes you off her, making sure you sit up. your hair is a bit mussed from how you were laying, and you look so cute that she's already regretting making you get up.

"nope, work time. gotta stay on top of it. you know that."

you groan, but listen. pulling out your work from your book bag on the floor. you know the drill by now. abby works at the bottom of the bed, you work at the top. no touching, because you'll both get distracted. and you do good for a while! you don't touch her or complain, you just do your work. and she's about to tell you that you're doing a good job, until she feels your socked foot come to poke at her thigh.

she ignores you, trying to get you to settle down on your own, but you will not stop kicking her. you're making little huffs and sighs from her lack of attention.

"i'm gonna ask you once to stop." she says, not even looking up from her computer.

"can't we take a break? miss you." you pout, crawling down towards her to try and persuade her. you're inches away from her face.

she looks up to meet your eye, "baby, be a good girl and get your work done, yeah? know i'll reward you later if you behave right now. you want a reward, don't you?"

her words make your brain a bit fuzzy. you nod your head and lean back on your heels for a second. she shoots you a smile and shifts her eyes to your work then back to you. you understand her point and sit all the way back. putting all your energy into getting the assignments finished.

safe to say you got a really good reward that night.

[ughitsnic]

Lingerie: Robin Buckley x reader

Robin Buckley x Reader smut

I got kind of carried away with this one, and originally it was just going to be something cute… but I guess it’s smut now lol

Also if you can think of a better title for this please let me know because I struggled, big time I’m talking 20 minutes of me staring blankly at a wall

“I’m just popping out to the store to gets some bits for dinner” your mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. “You girls have fun!”

“Okay mom!” You shout back from your room. You lay on your bed, watching Robin snoop around your room. Running her fingers across the spines of your books, blowing the trust of her finger tips, her eyes lighting up pulling one out.

“I didn’t realise you liked spooky books” she flicks through the pages of pet semetery. “You haven’t even finished it” she says in disbelief. You sit up and bring your knees to your chest.

“That’s because it was too scary” she nods, putting it back in a different place before looking at your little trinkets. You had a handful of porcelain cats, that she made sure to poke eachone before leaning against the bookcase to face you.

“I’m learning so much more about you y/n”

“Like what?” You were intrigued.

“You’re a wimp for starters. Second you really love pus- Holy shit! Is that your diary” she rushes over to your desk holding up a beat up pink journal. You bite your finger to stifle back your laughter. Her eyes dart around each pages, scanning throughyour deepest darkest secrets. Nothing she didn’t already know. A smile tugs at her lips. She continues to read, before holding up a Polaroid picture, it was a picture of her with big pink heart snapped sunglasses on, in the passenger seat of your car. She flips it over and grins. “My love” she reads out loud. “You are such a cutie babe” She beams.

Robin then opens bedside drawers. Holding up a battery, placing it on top. Before pulling out a few more, confused. You hide your face, waiting for her to realise. “You have a lot of batteries” she laughs, before sliding them back in and shutting it. She then pulls open the top draw of your dresser, pulling out you baby pink lingerie.

“Oh- wow- I… are these?” She struggles, swallowing. You watch her shift uncomfortably on her feet. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out, it wasn’t very often your girlfriend was speechless. You just nod, encouraging her to say something, but instead she stayed quiet as you watch the blush creep up her neck to her freckled cheeks. She takes a breath and tries recomposes herself. Now even more curious, she looks and pulls out a red pair, her face almost a matching colour, taking a second to feel the material through her fingers, quietly appreciating them.

“Robin baby, if you keep rummaging through there you’ll find what those batteries are for”

“What?- oh!” Her eyes wide, the dime had finally dropped. She carefully places your underwear back in there, pausing. “This is super irrelevant but how long until your mom is back” she didn’t look back at you

“About half an hour” you say looking at your watch, you get of the bed and snake your arms around robins waist.

“No reason- it’s- uh” you loved it when Robin gets flustered.

“Go on” you encourage, sliding your hands down her stomach, your fingertips toying with the elastic band of her panties,

“I- Fuck y/n” she leans against you, your hand travelling futher south, your hand cupping her heat, immediately feeling how wet she was.

“The sight of my underwear really got you that worked up huh?” You question teasingly, pressing a wet kiss below her ear.

“Please” you remove your hand, Robin letting out a small whimper. You lay her down, knelt on the end of the bed, as she unbuttons her jeans, discarding them on the floor with her underwear. You pull off your T-shirt, chucking it to the floor, you grab her legs pulling her down the bed and she lets out a squeal.

Trailing wet kisses teasingly on her inner thighs.

“You’re so wet for me” you whisper against her folds.

“How can I not be y/n knowing about what you’re wearing, fuck please fuck me” her voice was so raspy and so needy. “When we’re at work, and you bend over, all I can think about is how your ass looks in that red thong. Please” you run your tongue, swirling around her clit, sucking before letting it go with a pop. “Y/n stop teasing me”. You sit back on your knees, lewdly spitting on two fingers.

“Can I?” She quickly nods, closing her eyes. You slide your fingers into her wet pussy, slowly in and out, curling them, and watching how her face twist with pleasure. You continue at the slow pace, her hips grinding against your fingers, her bottom lip between her teeth. You lean forward, your tongue darting across her clit quickly as you speed up, your fingers slamming in and out of her wet pussy robins whiny moans, filling the room, as she grips the sheets.

“Y/n” she repeats over and over, closing her legs around you. “Don’t stop” you feel her pussy tighten round your fingers, ignoring the burn you continue. The sounds of her angelic moans made your stomach flip, feeling your own panties grow wetter. Robin throws her head back a high pitched cry leaving her mouth, as her legs begin to shake. “I’m coming” she chokes out, curling her toes. She whines, as you pull away, sitting up against your head board, watching you, her mouth slightly open as she watches you lick your fingers clean.

“You taste so good Robin” you moan, your clit throbbing, grinding against the duvet, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Come here, let me help you” before you could oblige youre internally scream as you hear the front door shut.

“Can you two come help me with the groceries!” Your mom shouts, the worst cock block im maybe all of history.

“Just a second” you groan.