#I think im talking about the right person when I say:

[gravegoer]

Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe

Sevika's Boss ꩜ part 2

hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist

You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.

Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.

She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.

And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.

She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...

Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.

But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?

This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.

"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.

She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.

"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.

"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.

You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.

Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are you— Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"

"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.

The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.

"Im in—" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'

"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the time– hell! You talk to her all the time."

You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?

"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do it—"

She attempted to cut you off with a meek,

"Sevikas—"

"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.

You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.

Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."

Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.

Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."

You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."

You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.

"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.

"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.

You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.

poor sevika

Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.

She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.

You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.

You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.

Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.

"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.

"No—well.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.

You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.

She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.

"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."

How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?

"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.

The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.

"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.

(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.

Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.

Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.

Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.

Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"

Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.

She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.

"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.

She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.

Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.

She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.

At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.

thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love

[nejiverse]

KIDS AND CARS

Toji Fushiguro

In which Toji who has been a father for six years is bested by his own girlfriend who has never been a mother. Fem! Reader

cw: none, im starting the ‘megumi being an expressive kid’ agenda 🫡

700ish words

Megumi was at that age where he rebelled against everything and anything Toji said or did. Frankly, it was starting to annoy Toji, he was starting to think his own son was trying to make his life a living hell on purpose

Then there was you who made it seem so effortless. Toji couldn’t comprehend why his six year old son only listened to his girlfriend

This particular day, Toji had an unimpressed look etched on his face as he folded his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was clearly fed up

“You have to put your toys away Megumi, I keep stepping on them”, he tried to be somewhat nice, he really did. But the boy just flat out ignored him as if he was deaf or something, continuing to bash his toy cars against each other while mimicking explosion noises. He was sat comfortably on the living room carpet with not a care in the world

Toji felt like a vein was about to burst as his brow twitched involuntarily. “I’m talking to you brat”, he spoke sternly, his patience drawing thin

In Toji’s defence, the little boy’s cars were scattered absolutely everywhere, it was hard to walk by without stepping on one. Besides, he was only playing with three out of the millions of toy cars on the floor

“Don’t wanna”.

Toji itched his head and clenched his teeth. Since when did his little boy upgrade from a simple ‘no’ to a ‘don’t wanna’?

Without a doubt, out of all the opponents he had faced in his lifetime, Megumi had to be his biggest challenge yet

“Yeah well I don’t give a fu—”, before Toji could finish his sentence, a hand came over his mouth

“Be nice”, his beloved girlfriend had a frown on her face because of his vulgar language

Toji sighed, relaxing his facial muscles and unfolding his arms. “Yeah yeah”

The woman approached Megumi, crouching down beside him with two of his little toy boxes in her hands after overhearing the whole situation while she was tidying his room.

“Say Megs”, she started with the nickname he loved to hear. “I’m really bored right now, can you play a game with me?”, at the mention of a game, Megumi perked up, turning to face Y/n

“What game?”, he asked, curiosity evident in his big blue eyes

“Whoever can pick up the most cars and put them into these boxes in 30 seconds wins!”, she explained before feigning a sad expression. “Oh but I don’t think you’ll be able to beat me, I am a faster runner than you after all”

Megumi felt challenged. “Liar! I’m the fastest!”, he boasted proudly

She smirked. “We’ll see about that….3, 2, 1, go!”, and the both of them scrambled to pick up as many cars as they could from the ground

Toji watched in amazement how good she was with him without ever having any experience with kids. He definitely chose the right person to date

Later that evening, after Megumi was tucked into bed and the house was quiet (finally), Y/n got comfortable between Toji’s legs as he threw on a random movie.

“Thanks for earlier, I feel like Megumi has a secret vendetta against me at the moment”, he commented

She laughed. “Im sure he doesn’t, you just have to know how to approach him”, she leaned her head against his chest. “He really is a good kid”.

“Mhm”, he hummed against her neck as his head moved to rest on her shoulder, his arms slithering around her waist

“Makes me think we’d do alright with more, y’know?”, his hands moved under her shirt and massaged the flesh around her stomach

She couldn’t resist the smile that creeped onto her lips as she turned around in his arms. “Toji Fushiguro are you asking me to have your kids?”.

“Is that a yes?”.

Well, is it?

a/n: off topic but kinda wanna start writing for bleach now that im caught up with the newest season 🤭 (requests opened btw)

masterlist :)

[punkkture]

how i view simon riley

for a second, let’s just forget everything about him that actually is true and let me lie . . .

simon riley is 6’5” and is chubby with hella muscle underneath. hes got a lot of tattoos covering his arms and hands, and one on his torso thats battered with scars. i like to think he has dark brown hair, its just my type okay? his eyelashes are sooo long and his hands are always washed, he hates having dirty hands.

simon is a good leader, he kind of has to be. he is an amazing man when it comes to his job and his teammates, but when he gets home, thats the only chance he has to just let go. there isnt some persona he has to put on when hes home. his temper gets the best of him sometimes and hes lwk toxic asf.

“baby c’mon you know i didnt mean to, ‘m sorry” — “dont be dumb sweetie you know im busy right now, go somewhere else and leave me alone” — “stop acting like this, im tired of you right now”

but he will always come to bed with you. always kiss you goodnight. always fixes the covers back over you when he gets up in the morning. its not his fault that he just has some anger issues he never got over when he was a kid. simon is either a big teddy bear or a stone wall. hes hard to read on most days but his tone will always give it away. mf has an awful tone problem when hes having a bad day. simon’s words are often harsh when hes having a bad day but his physical nature says the complete opposite.

“just shut up baby, you sound so stupid” he’d groan at you, but at the same time he’d pull you closer into him, kneading your soft skin in his hands gently. as if he is always apologizing after every mean phrase that comes out from those parted lips. and when that hurt whine comes from your lips hes already ‘shh’-ing you and rubbing your side.

my simon riley is infatuated with his sweetheart being all dolled up and dumbed down. he loves himself a stupid dumb girl that just cant do anything by herself. of course he knows hes needed for work, but simon has never felt needed outside of his job title. even if he’d never admit it without some emotional talks, he could cry over the fact that you need him. that something as precious and pure as you needs a man as rough and battered as him. he knows deep down youre not a stupid girl, youre bright and just curious, as he likes to put it. he loves being able to explain simple things to you, loves that you call him because you forget how to turn the oven fan off and how to cut a mango. hes so thankful that hes not needed for life or death situations with you like he constantly is for work.

my simon riley is obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. he is a sucker for breeding. when hes left alone in thought he always, without a doubt, thinks about you having his babies and forever being in his life. he just knows you’d be such a good mom. you are the only person he can even picture caring for his own. your sweet and kind nature on the daily shows how maternal you are and it just makes that soft spot in his heart swell and get bigger every time he pictures it. hes also smitten with your waist line. oh god dont even get the man started on your back dimples and the curves of your hips. simon’s lips are always on your abdomen and tummy.

“gonna have my babies in here one day sweetie, youre gonna look so pretty all knocked up” he mumbles in between warm open-mouth kisses right under your belly button. his heavy fingers digging into the dips of your back as he pulls you inexplicably closer to him.

he really is such a sensitive man under all that scar tissue and bulky muscle. in my head simon is an april taurus sun, pisces moon, and rising gemini. so basically, the taurus in him showcases he has a very rough exterior that is great at displaying leadership and grounding skills, but the pisces on the inside makes him sensitive and he has a lot of emotions, then the gemini in him makes him come across as independent and deceitful at first. i could go on forever about this mans astrology chart.

simon riley who always brags about you to his friends. he’s very careful with talking about you at work though. he would most definitely set the world on fire if anything bad happened to his sweet angel girl. when he’s back from deployment, out at some shitty pub with johnny . . he can’t keep his lips sealed about you.

“i know ‘m gonna marry that girl. i know it, gonna give her my last name and at least four kids . . you wanna know what she made for dinner when i got home from the last deployment?” he rambles to poor soap who just wanted to get out of his apartment.

[al0velyuniverse]

thoughts thoughts college student!reader finally gets to meet the 141. turns out she's price's daughter. they're shocked. price is like 'when you said you didn't need money from me anymore you meant you were dating someone?? you're dating my LIEUTENANT???'

it's just very funny to me idkk. like he wasn't attracted towards reader when simon was yapping about her but he did have a sneaking suspicion that she sounded very similar to a certain daughter of his

Okay so this was not the original direct i was gonna take the ‘series’ in and it’s probably not gonna be how it goes down in the official pt.2 but ohmygod im dying thinking about it actually. Seeing as Ghost and Price are relatively close in age it’s probably surreal for them😭😭

- Price never actually looked at the photos that Gaz and Soap begged Ghost to see. Just listened to the three of them be horny toads over some sweet young thing. Of course not all of the things Ghost talked about were vulgar, he clearly cared for whoever this sweet little bird was.

- He ignored the similarities, or rather tried not to think about them. Any hint or implication he brushed off as sheer coincidence, the alternative not a pleasant one to consider.

- You were nervous about meeting your boyfriend’s team, how could you not? You barely knew anything about them “it’s Garrick and Jonny, and the cap’n” was all he told you (well he also told you the first two found you awfully pretty) So you put on your nicest dress for the dinner and joined Simon at the restaurant dutifully

- the other boys got there first, clearly eager to meet the little bird. Your nervous jitters slowly dissipate clinging to your boyfriends buff arm as you walked through the restaurant

- however, any sense of serenity and casualty go out the window when you finally walk up to the table. Before Simon can get anything introductions in Captain John Price is saying your name and your calling the man sat across from you “dad”

- it was in this moment Price regretted keeping his personal life this much of a secret, maybe if he hadn’t…well even if he hadn’t you still probably would have fallen right into the arms of his Lieutenant

- the rest of the dinner goes surprisingly smooth. Though you have to complain that Simon isn’t nearly as handsy as he usually is when you go out to dinner, and any flirting you expected from Gaz and Soap doesn’t happen. Probably for the best though, with your own father sitting there watching the four of you

- Gaz and Soap are constantly about five seconds from bursting into the most atrocious fit of laugher for the entire dinner. Neither of them can really believe what they’re witnessing

- Simon probably brings you home after and you two playfully get into it, accusing both of you of being blind to the glaringly obvious truth that day in front of you, and of course as soon as you’re dropped off and Simon drives home you’re getting a phone call and an earful from your dad about dating an older man like Simon

- even though he gives you shit for it, Price is secretly glad Simon is the older man you’re dating. He’s someone on his team, someone he trusts, if anyone is gonna take proper care of you it’s Simon



[vatelixx]

In the crooks of your body (I find religion),

mid-seasons Spencer Reid x afab!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, lots of fluff. no angst this time, mostly for damage control) ─── soft love & early mornings. idk it’s just domestic bliss for a change.

Warnings: light d/s dynamic (sub spencer, im predictable), low-key praise for both parties, pre-established relationship, they’re soooo in love, they’re also domesticated, morning sex (but there’s no penetration, just oral), they’re both nerds, their pillow talk is science, autistic spencer always (it’s canon to me) greek mythology references, probably the nicest thing i’ll ever write.

w.c: 3k

a/n: post-prison (as requested by many) is still being worked on. it makes me sick. i wrote this to improve my mental health. i’d apologise for being inactive recently but it was necessary, ohmygodihavesomuchcoursework.

──────────────

Saturdays are for this. Waking up to no obligations, work tossed aside, Spencer’s state of impending doom reduces to something distant, untouchable. Barely dawn, there’s a level of domesticity to the art of sleeping together.

Sure, he could go on tangents, disbelieving that he’s allowed to attain this. But it’s futile, he’s long grown tired of exhausting the how to your dynamic, the statistic improbabilities, he always thought you would be reserved to his fantasies. Pandora’s box, a hypothetical kept under lock and key.

But no— he’s willing to accept that, on this one off occasion, he’s made an error in his calculations. An illogical anomaly.

Draped in the mantle of sleep, he feels the soft push of cotton sheets first, then the warm-blooded body curved around him. There isn’t traces of a case lingering at the forefront of his mind when he shifts, drawing himself closer, almost subconsciously, by guided instinct.

Touch. Touch, a natural, biological need. Something Spencer has always shied away from, finding nothing but hurt at the double-edged sword of intimacy. It’s not like he has much experience to base this on. And yet, right now, he’s not thinking factually, from a logical standpoint. Because, okay, there’s comfort in knowing the person that touches you is in fact supposed to touch you.

His hands find your body, his movements still slow and weary, thumb brushing the edge of your vertebrae, the divot just below your shoulder blade.

Spencer is many things. He’s obsessive, incessant, obstinate on occasion. Difficult, to put it bluntly. But despite all that, despite his complications, he’s here, touching, trusting, because for the first time in his life, it feels good.

“Moonless earth theory,” he says, moving to accommodate when you decide to lie on your side. Face to face, in hazy, dimmed light. He stares. “Okay, Abian, Alexander Abian, claimed that blowing up the moon would solve every problem in existence.”

Selfishly, unabashed, he slips his hand beneath your top to trace halos across your skin. “It’s so dumb. If that happened, tides would decrease. And, and, the moon's presence has a partial correcting effect on any instabilaties that arise in a non-homogenous, non-symmetrical—“ he sighs, presses his lips together for a moment, “Basically, the earth would wobble. Which… uh, isn’t very good?”

You’re still half-asleep, dreary to his random information. It takes a moment for your brain to settle, to comprehend what he’s saying, and then another, longer moment, to respond.

“Mhm. Days would be shorter,” you respond before laughing. “This is what you think about when you’ve just woken up? I’m basically a walking lobotomy until at least 10AM. And that’s providing I have a shower, feed my caffeine dependency, et cetera et cetera.”

You look at him, observe the sight: tousled hair, swollen lips half-parted, dilated, heavy-lidded eyes that stare back back back.

“I think about a lot of things in the morning,” he mutters, “A lot of things in general.”

When he leans in to kiss you, it’s languid, slow, he’s still in stasis, a state of suspended animation. Tenderly, as if the contact could break, he parts your lips with his own, his breath warm against your mouth, slow, like he wants your touch burnt into him.

Inevitably, your tongue slides against his, and he moans. Hot. It’s so slow, slow enough that time feels warped, nonexistent, like the universe has just stopped without warning.

He feels you shifting, the movement subtle, legs intertwining, hips flush. Good. So good. His lips break away, only to find their way across a cheek, along the column of your throat, further, over the curve of your collarbone.

He’s pressing kisses anywhere his body allows, touch lingering against your skin, tracing invisible imprints. “Sometimes, well.. um, most of the time, I think about you.”

He laughs, shifting to press his forehead against yours. “It’s a huge interference on my routine. And yeah, there’s also the facts, and the statistics. But then my mind will betray me, and i’ll just think about how you might respond, if I told you them.”

This information isn’t exactly new; you’ve woken up to random, impromptu messages regarding space, earth, philosophy, facts that you can never quite place at such an early hour. Then, there’s the phone calls, the dumb, domestic phone calls, ringing you just to over-explain some new hypothesis he’s studying.

Starry-eyed ambition. Sometimes it hurts to think that the job, the BAU, the nature of the cases, will inevitably warp his softness.

You cup his face, palm pressed against cheek, watching as he melts, molten gold, into the contact. “Yknow, I’d really like to study you in a lab.”

“Mm,” he hums, a sound that translates to please don’t put me in a lab.

His hand wraps around your wrist, preserving the contact, holding onto it like there’s a possibility, an actual chance, fact and figure, that he could lose it.

“I’d just be your lab rat? And they say romance is dead,” he scoffs, “You would commit so much medical malpractice.”

“Pft, medical malpractice. That’s made up,” you silence his protests before they can leave his lips. “I think it would be fun to preform experiments on you. Though, i’m not sure I should be trusted with a scalpel. A law probably needs to be put in place. Yknow, for the safety of the people.”

“Ah, ha.” he’s quick to respond, “It’s the scalpel you’re worried about? You’re forgetting the needle, the drugs, the restraints? You cannot be trusted, you’re a danger to society,”

Spencer pouts, features creased. “And your idea of a fun Saturday morning is committing violent acts against your oh so innocent boyfriend. I see, I see where your priorities lie.”

You grin, press a light kiss to his cheek. It’s soft, tentative contact, and yet he still shivers. No dignity. “Sorry, sorry. What was that last part of your sentence? I zoned out after you said restraints.”

“Right. That’s uh, well. That wasn’t the point I was… trying… to make?”

“Yeah, yeah. Medical malpractice. Evil girlfriend. I get it. You’ve made your point. I am very very ashamed of my hypothetical actions.” you say, hooking your leg around his waist, drawing him onto his back. Spine meeting mattress, your body on top now, straddling him.

You hike up his sweater, running your hand across his torso. There’s something obscene to the way he blushes, draping an arm over his face, as if your movements physically pain him.

“Stop acting coy. I’ve seen you in this position before. Worse ones, if we’re going to be honest here—“

“Hey, hey, hey— I’m not acting coy!" he protests, unconvincingly. He’s breathless, attempting to hide the way his body reacts. As if the slight friction warranted from the movement doesn’t grant him fleeting bliss.

The contact is intense, fervent, your body flush with his. “We really really don’t need to talk about the other occasions.” his eyes shut, head falling back against sheets, lips parted, hands gripping the skin of your hips.

“You’re uh, you’re really unfair,” he mumbles, “And beautiful. I should tell you that more often.”

“You tell me every day.”

Moving off his lap, he’s accommodating as you help to untangle clothes from his body, raising his hips when needed, lifting his arms when necessary. Your touch has him compliant, obedient, eager to fall pliant, beneath you. The sight, god: slender, pale skin, faint blemishes staining his thighs from previous nights, matching with the few that adorn his neck.

“I don’t say it enough, then.”

You laugh, “Oh, you’re such a sap.”

It’s a process: getting Spencer to sit up. Because he doesn’t seem to comprehend your intentions, to realise what you’re trying to imply here. Still, when he’s finally perched on the edge of the bed, you rise, shifting to stand between his legs, to look down at the picture of him, bare, undone, so pretty just for you.

He stares up, eyes wide like marbles. “Hi.”

You card your hand through his hair, strands falling between crevices in your fingers. It’s soft, the movement, the gesture, you’re not sinking down to the root yet. “Hi.”

Your name falls from his lips. And yeah, there’s something reverent to the way he says it, the pained whisper. Something that dissolves into a messy, unrefined whimper when you sink to your knees.

“Oh, god. I—,” he swallows, his voice rough. “I, I love you so much.”

There’s this repeated question on your mind, the same one that loops into existence every time you’re in a compromising position: how loud is Spencer going to be today? Because, objectively, he’s loud. It demeans, ruins the chances of abrupt, clandestine touches in semi-public places. In sneaking around. Even when you’ve got your palm against his mouth, he somehow manages to combat, to prevail the suffocation.

Your lips press soft kisses along his thigh, touching those marks now, the ones you must’ve left last night. No? Maybe yesterday afternoon? It’s hard to keep track. “I love you.”

He melts.

“Such a pretty cock. All for me, hm?” jesus christ. You’ve always been so blunt, outward, inherently shameless. Spencer thinks he might die, divine madness. Theia mania.

When you drag your tongue along the length of his cock, there’s a current, sharp, sending his hips bucking. They arch forward, into you, into the contact. Sight shuttered by swollen eyes, he thinks about regulating his breathing, inhale, exhale, the concept falls on deaf ears.

“All yours,” he whimpers, “Yes. Only,.. only you. Always.”

It feels like devotion. The way he confirms vocally, the way you sink down, take him deep into your mouth. His head spills backwards, baring his neck, indiscernible noises bleeding through the open air, sunlight touching his skin, highlighting his intemperate demeanour in diluted canary.

He’ll apologise to the neighbours later.

Shaky, fumbling hands reach out to brush loose strands of hair from your face, to grip, the pads of his fingers meeting your scalp. He would never push, he just needs something firm, solid, tangible to hold onto.

And when you hum around him, just to mess with him, just to hear those sounds, to draw those pleasure-soaked, beautiful noises out of his mouth—

“Oh, oh oh— that’s, yeah. Mhm, yeah. Just… ruin me.” he’d probably thankyou after. Because he’s polite.

You draw back from the contact to catch your breath. Lips stained, now bruising, emitting soft little gasps. There’s tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, reducing your vision to a distorted haze. Blurry traces of reality that all seem so inconsequential now, now that you’re here.

“I love the way you sound for me, Spence. So pretty.”

“Well,” he huffs out a breath, “I’m uh, being taken care of… very well.”

You lean forward to press a kiss against his tip, as if that’s the most innocent, innocuous gesture imaginable. “You deserve it.” your nails run across his thigh, leaving faint white lines in their path. “Exploding that genius brain of yours yet?”

“That shattered the moment you got down on your knees. Maybe, um… okay, possibly earlier.”

“Earlier?”

“Way earlier..”

He whimpers when you drag your tongue across his tip. There’s a plethora of please please please he shamelessly emits, only somewhat satiated when your lips are wrapped around his cock, when you’re demolishing his sanity, and everything else in the process.

He doesn’t even realise how lewd he is, most of the time. It’s not like he’s making a deliberate effort, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to attain that skill anyway. It’s just… him, raw and unbridled, so delirious from pleasure.

His eyes, dilated, gone, are half-lidded, watching you through thick curls of messy hair, damp with sweat and morning light.

“I’m trying, I’m trying so hard,” he moans, and then words are destroyed, obliterated, as you gag, taking him down to the hilt. “Oh,” he says, “Oh.”

It never lasts long. Not where he’s concerned. Features creased, pleading, you have to restrain him from bucking, nails burning crescent marks into his skin. “Please— please, ‘m gonna…”

He looks done. You hum, oh, silent confirmation, the vibrations stimulate his cock, and then he’s shapeshifting, morphing, transcending into something blissfully gone, releasing deep into your throat.

The orgasm has him ruined, undone. Barely conscious, just floating like something inviolable.

Afterward, he’s urging you to drink water, soft kisses pressed down the curve of your neck as you both readjust. When his phone, his outdated, underused phone lights up, artificial haze, he curses Prometheus for giving humans fire, for hiding it in a stalk of funnel and allowing them to inevitably create technology.

The phone gets locked away in his drawer. He’s half-scared of it anyway.

Spencer has never quite understood the appeal of mornings, but he’s starting to see the merit in them, with you. He’ll tell you that sometime, maybe. One day. Soon.

Right now, however, he descends down your body, lips dragging a path from collarbone to the space between your thighs, where he actively groans.

“Best Saturday morning ever,” you remark, helping him to remove your shorts, then the offending panties that prevent his mouth from working you to ruin.

It’s almost domestic, the way you mirror his actions, feeding your hands through his hair, supporting him as he slips a pillow beneath your hips. Sprawled out across tangled sheets, flushed and restless, you let out an appreciative sigh at the reciprocation.

“Definitely,” he agrees, blowing cold air against your core, just to watch the way you curve, contort. “Though, uh… every morning with you is the best morning ever.” It’s dumb, and god he’s blushing between your thighs.

But, Spencer likes to thank you. Because all in all, he considers himself a well-mannered person. So this, he parts your thighs further, applies slight pressure to your clit, is completely necessary. Mandatory, he’d argue. Something that needs to be embedded into daily routine.

Usually, it’s a slow, methodical process. He can be a perfectionist, a completionist, but he doesn’t mind. He trails his tongue across the inner sections of your thighs, to catch the wetness that stains your skin there.

“You are so perfect,” he regards, pressing a kiss to your clit, mirroring your actions. “So pretty. The prettiest— i’m going to, yeah..”

His tongue moves in languid circles, in soft, calculated motions, before finally delving inside of you, tasting you, drawing a moan, a plea, a muffled prayer from your lips. Okay, alright, maybe his lips too.

“I could do this all day, I want to, I—“ And he doesn’t really have to finish the sentence, because you know him too well, and it’s implied. Implied that he’d spend ceaseless hours here without complaint, oh far from complaint.

He likes to have something to focus on. A task to preform. It distracts his mind, and this one? Yeah, it reduces his thoughts to only you.

If he had it his way, his current mental state would be permanent.

“On your back, pretty boy..” you watch with soft eyes as he mindlessly obeys. Legs bent, pressed against the mattress, you sink down onto his face, getting off from a new angle. Your back instinctively curves, arches, a series of warped moans ripped straight from your throat.

“Just like that— mhm..” you mutter, gripping his hair tighter now, mostly for stability. It’s hard to look down, to see the obscene sight he’s been demeaned to.

His thoughts are always haywire, spitballing off one another. It’s a constant cycle of overthinking, over-analyzing, brain fried beyond reason. But you? You make him feel grounded, tethered, to the very world itself. You’re the one constant that he can predict, and yet, oxymoronically, still so unpredictable in the same breath.

So human..

When you begin to rock against his face, to take the initiative, using him, he simply reaches down, hands trailing across his overstimulated body to stroke himself because of course he’s hard again. How could he not be? He’s at the altar of your body, and god he knows how to serve.

Spencer’s pretty certain he’s forgotten how to breathe, and it’s a hard, harsh gasp when he has the chance to drag air into his lungs — before diving back down to you, because yeah he needs it, he needs you.

It’s messy, muffled whimpers, and desperate sounds emitted from both of your mouths. A constant onslaught of him, his tongue working halos against your clit. When he comes, he’s got his face buried into your heat, obstructing all of his senses. Delirious. Pussy-drunk.

There. There. There. He makes sure to prolong the pleasure, to work you through the bleeding mess of stars, and cosmos, and heavenly bliss, until you’re squirming away from overstimulation.

There’s a set routine when it comes to aftercare. One that both of you fail to adhere to, every. single. time. You’re both firm, assertive, in the belief that you should be the one to look after the other, so it ends up being a lazy, mutual act. Showering, the way he buries his face into your shoulder, naked body pressed against naked body. Hydration, soft touches, muttered words that help you return from the astral plane.

“I can’t believe we’re getting back into bed,” you say after you’ve changed the sheets, traded your ruined clothes for fresh pyjamas. You’re wearing Spencer’s shirt, fumbling buttons, half sealed, exposing your collarbone, draping over your shoulder when you preform any sort of physical movement that requires arms.

“No complaints though.” by nature, your body finds his beneath blankets. “I’d happily rot here. They could make a shitty reality show, it would be good entertainment.”

“I think I’d get fired from the BAU,” he protests, “You know, the first reality TV show aired in 1948. Candid Camera, on ABC, the premise was uh… hidden-cameras? So, yeah, the usual invasion of privacy, sounds entertaining.”

“Mhm. Sounds like something you’d hate.”

You’re lying face to face, arms draped over each other. The Lovers of Valadro position, he calls it. You’re not sure if that’s romantic, or slightly morbid.

“Here’s the plan,” you press your forehead to his, staring at those doe-wide eyes, “We’re going back to sleep. Then, I guess you can be a rule-abiding FBI agent, or whatever, and finish up your reports. As long as you’re done by 4. Because I want to see a movie,” he laughs, in that knowing way. “Yes, yes, i’m aware it’s your turn. Which means we’re gonna end up watching some documentary. Just uh? Make it space themed, yeah? Or, dinosaurs. I can settle for dinosaurs.”

His lips meet yours, abruptly, and he’s grinning into the contact. “I love you so much. I, we, still need to watch MoonWalk One. The Mars Underground, um.. The Valley of the T-Rex? There’s another that I read about yesterday. The Universe at the Edge of Knowledge. Oh, or Dark Universe. You’ll really like Dark Universe, and Edge of Knowledge has this, this cool segment on —“

“Okay, nerd.” you laugh, “Whatever one you want, we’ll watch. I’m still halfway through Paleoworld right now, 30 episodes in.” he knows that, because you’ll message him through the duration, make use out of that untouched (borderline) dusty phone he neglects.

He intertwines your fingers, presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “Yup. Yup. Whatever. Can we nap now?”

[rafesweetie]

⋆˚࿔ espresso ꥟ ˚⋆ — sunny!reader x rafe

“ walked in and dream-came-trued for ya! “

i believe the saying goes, “she was like a shot of espresso.” rafe didn’t think that saying could fit a person more than it could fit you.

he’d see you at parties, dancing with his sister or giggling with the pogues. you never could seem to pick a side. this whole pogue vs kook rivalry never crossed your mind, for you were simply friends with everyone in kildare. he’d see you at the beach with your friends, tanning while listening to silly pop music and sipping on a fruity canned drink. you reminded him of the sun.

there was one night where sarah cameron invited you to her place for a start-of-summer party. rafe was dealing some coke, as per usual, and his eyes followed you as you walked in, holding hands with sarah while she led you inside. he’d never understood why girls held hands with each other, but wheezie said that it’s a universal girl thing, and he ‘would never get it.’

topper elbowed rafe out of his trance, laughing about how rafe had a little crush.

“nah, nah,” rafe denied instantly. “isn’t she a pogue?”

topper shakes his head. “nope. she just hangs out with them. her parents own that flashy smoothie shop, she’s a kook,”

“…oh, that’s good,” rafe mutters. he can’t quite avert his gaze from you.

“aw man, you’re desperate,” kelce is on his other side, patting his back, making rafe grunt and shoo him off. rafe can’t relate to desperation.

his night goes on per usual, getting bundles of cash handed to him as he deals. until topper speaks up after a bit. “she just broke up with pope,” he informs rafe. “she’s on the market,”

“yeah?” rafe checks.

“yeah. you should go talk to her,”

rafe hesitates, staring at you again. you’re not a dancer by any means, but both you and sarah are wiggling your shoulders a bit when a good song comes up. rafe would assume you’re drunk, the way your giggles echo through the room and the way you spill your drink when you stumble into sarah. but he thinks that’s just you, drunk on life. he eventually speaks. “no fucking way, she’s with my sister right now. sarah would lose her shit if i talked to little miss sunshine over there,”

“yeah, well, need i remind you i’m dating sarah, so i’ll just get her away, go make out for a bit, she looks drunk,” topper offers.

“…a’ight. yeah, lets do it bro.” rafe agrees, and they both get up off the couch. rafe stands a little bit away as he grabs another vodka pink lemonade for you, maybe a subtle bribe into talking, and a beer for himself. topper talks to sarah for a bit, greets you, then leads sarah away.

rafe’s literally directly behind you, when suddenly you’re already talking to someone else. you’re pretty chatty, it seems. rafe hangs around to catch you after your next conversation. but then he looks away for one second, then you’re gone again. he spots you on the balcony, with jj maybank. then a couple minutes later, you’re with kie carrera. then you’re shotgunning a drink with sofia. holy shit. you’ve got him wrapped around your finger already, and he looks so cute chasing after you. if he’s not pushy, he’ll never get his chance. so, channeling his inner ward cameron, he spots you with ruthie (who he never would’ve assumed you would associate with. maybe you’re just being polite), and he puts a hand on your shoulder from behind, spinning you around. “y/n. right?”

you blink, not expecting the sudden interruption. but you regain yourself quickly, smiling. “hi! yeah, i am,” you say. your voice sounds as sweet as honey. “you’re rafe cameron?”

you know who he is? he shouldn’t be surprised, you seem to know everyone, but he likes that you know, anyway. “uh, yeah, yeah, that’s me,”

“well it’s so nice to meet you,” you smile up at him. “it’s funny, sofia used to mention you a lot, and obviously im close friends with your sister. but i’ve never met you before,”

“..you’re friends with sofia?” is all he can think to ask.

“mhm. i’ve known her since grade 5. we’re not like, super close now, but we were when you guys dated,” sensing his sudden aversion to talking about her, his ex girlfriend, you shut up. “um, wanna go grab a drink?”

“oh— shit, yeah, um, brought one for you, actually,” he hands you the vodka pink lemonade. “saw you drinking one earlier, so..”

“oh my gosh, thank you so much,” you say. is he that sweet? you guess so.

“yeah, ‘course. heard sarah talk about you, and it’s all been good things, so i figured i’d try and meet you myself,”

“well now you have. i’ve heard her talk about you too,” you don’t have the heart to say it hasn’t been very good things.

it feels like this awkward small talk is going in circles. but maybe that’s a good, slow way to start something.

your name is suddenly called by a group of girls a couple meters away. “it was so nice to meet you rafe. i should go, they want me,” you say softly, reaching for his hands. he remembers when you came in holding sarah’s hands. it seems to be your thing. “i’ll see you around?”

“yeah—“ he clears his throat, gaining the courage to hold yours back. “yeah. see you around, y/n,”

you smile. you could swear he’s blushing. “you’re cute,” you say softly, squeezing his hands once more before retreating away.

he feels like he just took a shot of espresso, and now he’ll be thinking of you every night.

[uceyliyahh]

SOMETHING BOUT’ US

Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3590

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Yasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

7.

YASMINE It was Crown Jewel day, and I was nervous to say the least about tonight's main event, which involved me going against Liv Morgan for her title. I couldn't believe that I'd be having my first PPV tonight; thinking about it gave me butterflies in my stomach.

I was in my hotel room watching TV while eating some food that I had ordered from the menu that they had in the room. I haven't heard from Jey since we last saw each other, and I started to miss him because he normally doesn't go days without texting or calling me.

That's when I felt my phone buzzing as I grabbed it from the dresser, seeing that Trinity had texted me.

Trin🤭🫶🏽 sent a message.

IMESSAGE 💬 Trin🤭🫶🏽: Hey, girly I was checking up on you to see how you were doing? Minnie🧃: I'm doing fine just nervous about today Trin🤭🫶🏽: girl, you're going to be fine just bring that title home for us Minnie🧃: Trin, you know I got'chu if you want a title shot Trin🤭🫶🏽: fasho girl I know Minnie🧃: also have you heard from Jey? Trin🤭🫶🏽: last time I check him and Jon were heading to the gym together then hangout with some friends before the show Minnie🧃: oh okay Trin🤭🫶🏽: did something happen? Minnie🧃: nah I just wanted to see if you have heard from him since he hasn't text me or called me at least Trin🤭🫶🏽: hm, that's not like him I'll see what's going on but I'll see you later girl byeee love you Minnie🧃: love you too

After texting Trinity, I decided to munch on my food while continuing to watch my show on Netflix. Jey and I have been doing this friends-with-benefits thing ever since we met.

I knew he was my person, my peacemaker, especially whenever I'm feeling down or about to panic. He's always right there to fix it, no matter what, but for some odd reason, I started to feel more for him than I should.

Maybe it was the dick that was making me feel this way about him, not knowing how he felt entirely, but it was odd not hearing from him all day today.

I'll probably see him at work or something, then we could talk about it, hopefully.

✧˚° I finally made it to work, seeing everyone that I was cool with backstage. Meanwhile, I was looking for Jey, hoping that I'd see him and greet him with hugs and kisses like I normally do.

As I was walking down toward Montez's locker room, I caught something. It was Jey speaking to Liv, for whatever reason, so I went behind the corner and watched them.

His energy seemed a bit flirty, and the way he felt up on her like he did with me almost shattered me. I sighed deeply, getting out of the corner and continuing to walk towards my brother's locker room.

Walking past them as Jey made eye contact with me before I rolled my eyes at him going towards Montez's locker room. Maybe he didn't feel the same way like I did.

As I walked in my brother's locker room I saw Bianca sitting on the couch gazing up at me with a smile as I did the same to her.

I sat down on the couch, looking up at the screen and seeing the commutators speaking about the matches for tonight. Bianca could sense my energy seemed a bit off as she nudged my shoulder.

"You okay Minks?" Bianca asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine just nervous about my match for the main event," I said while having flashbacks of seeing Jey with Liv being all up on her.

"Are you sure? You seemed pretty uncomfortable about something," I said, shaking my head and telling her that I was fine and just needed a moment by myself.

That's when I felt my phone vibrating, seeing a text from an unknown number that seemed like they had sent me a picture.

When I opened the message, it felt like my whole world had stopped spinning. It was a picture of Jey and Liv, with him having her in a back-shot position and the message saying, 'Hey, girl.' I didn't want to express those feelings toward Bianca, so I went out to the locker room for a moment, trying to calm myself down before I had a mental breakdown.

How could he? Why would he do this? I went inside the bathroom, went inside the stall, and began bawling my eyes out in silence so that nobody would hear me.

I put my trust into a nigga that would just do me dirty now everyone is going to be looking at me all weirdly.

After I was bawling my eyes out, I opened the stall and looked inside the mirror, touching up my makeup, praying that I wouldn't see him again or anymore. Ion even wanna tell Montez about it. Hell, he probably knows.

I walked out of the bathroom and toward Ms. Kim to check on my gear and make sure everything was okay. When I went that way, I saw Carmelo talking to somebody, but I didn't pay attention to him.

He saw me walking past him and tried to grab my arm, but I quickly snatched it away.

"Are you good, Yasmine? " he asked. I just rolled my eyes at him, wondering why he cared if I was okay.

I just nodded my head and walked away because I didn't want to engage in the conversation anymore. I honestly didn't want to talk to anybody.

Ms. Kim saw me walking toward her, and she smiled at me.

"Hey, Yasmine, I see that you're here for your attire?" She said.

"Yeah, I just wanted to come pick it up so that I could have it before my match," I said as she nodded her head and gave me my attire.

My eyes sparkled with excitement. I love the detail of the gear; it just suited me so well. I thanked Ms. Kim before heading back toward Montez's locker room.

✧˚° I sat in my brother's locker room, lost in thought about what I'd seen while watching the matches on his TV.

I'm still puzzled. What did I do wrong? Did he not see me as good enough? I guess it shouldn't bother me since we're friends with benefits, right?

As I watched TV, a knock on the door signaled someone to come in, but I didn't look at them until they were right in front of me.

When I looked up, I saw that it was him—the person I didn't even want to see at the moment.

My eyebrows furrowed a bit, and I sighed deeply. " What? Why are you in my face for?" I remarked, giving him an attitude.

"Let me explain, Minks," Jey begged as I rolled my eyes at him.

"There's nothing for you to explain, Josh. I thought I could trust you, and I gave my BODY to you. Is this what you do? I understand that we are friends with benefits but damn," I wanted to lash out on him so bad but it just wasn't in me I didn't need this when I have a match coming up.

I got up from the couch, not wanting to speak to him anymore when he grabbed me by the waist and looked deeply into my brown eyes.

Those same eyes that captured me hypnotized me.

"C'mon, don't do this. She doesn't mean anything to me, mama." I wanted to give in so badly, but he didn't deserve it. He can be with her instead of me.

"Let me go, Ion' have time for this. We are only friends with benefits, right? It shouldn't matter anyway; I have a match to go to." I pulled away from his grasp before going towards the gorilla, trying to pump myself up until I saw her walking past me with a smirk.

She was mouthing, "he's mine now," I wanted to knock the brains outta her so bad but I kept it professional smiling at her as her music began playing.

I had to keep my emotions together putting them to the side for right now not wanting to mess up my opportunity to take away that damn belt from her.

My music began to play as the cameraman was next me while I mouthed, "it's show time yall," while walking out the gorilla hearing the people cheering for me.

Just reminded me when I was in NXT going against Roxanne for her title, I blew kisses to everyone while skipping towards the ring.

"And her opponent from Brooklyn, New York weighing in at 148 pounds YASMINE!!!!"

I smiled at waved at everyone giving them a high five before flipping my hair in the process I know that this was getting underneath her skin.

I got on top of the ropes sitting on them while I flipped over them landing a spilt on the ground before getting back up.

"Yasmine is honestly a very talented athlete Cole,"

"I agree with you hundred percent Graves she's going to be the next face of the company,"

I took off my jacket and cap throwing it outside of the ring. I hyped myself as the referee held up the title before ringing the bell.

"1!" "2!" "3!"

"Oh my god! She did it! Yasmine is your new women's world champion!"

"She honestly deserves it,"

I was absolutely stunned when I defeated Liv Morgan. Although Dom and Jey provided some interference, I still managed to emerge victorious in a fair manner. The look of despair in Liv's eyes was evident. Perhaps this was Karma's way of teaching her a lesson, but let's not dwell on that. The referee presented me with the title, and as I held my hand, I couldn't help but feel a pang of pain in my stomach.

Hearing the crowd screaming that I deserved it made my heart warm. I blew them kisses before rolling out of the room and heading towards the gorilla.

I saw Bianca, Trinity, Montez and Jon standing there waiting on me as I walked inside they all came up to me hugging me tightly.

I cried happy tears while embracing them together; I looked up for a second, seeing Jey standing there with his arms crossed around his chest.

He seemed proud of me for what I had accomplished.

"We are honestly so proud of you, baby girl!" Trinity said.

"Girl, ion' know you be doing them moves when you're so little bro," I shrugged my shoulders at her telling her that it's just a skill and learning mechanism for me.

After they congratulated me, I saw Jey walking up towards me, and I rolled my eyes at him. "Can we talk alone?" I sighed softly, nodding my head as I followed him toward his and Jonathan's locker room, which they shared together.

We both made it to their locker room as he opened the door for me to come in first before him while shutting the door behind him. I sat down on the couch, placing my championship next to me.

It was nothing but silence. I don't think I have the energy to deal with this, especially after tonight's match.

"You wanted to talk so speak up," I retorted while folding my arms.

I knew that he liked my sassy attitude, but I was honestly dead-ass serious about this one, hearing a light, dark chuckle escape his lips.

"You wanna fix that tone of yours, little mama?" He questioned me.

"No, I will not fix my fucking tone nigga. I have every right to have this funky ass attitude with yo' ass playing in my fucking face," I was lashing out at him badly, knowing that what he did really did shatter me and now made me more closed off.

"Like, why me? What did I do so wrong to deserve that? When I saw you as my peacemaker, someone I could go to without feeling guilty..." Jey listened attentively, hearing me lash out at him.

"It was a mistake, Minks. I swear it wasn't supposed to go that far." I shook my head, knowing that he was lying just to get out of it.

"It was a fucking choice not a damn mistake, you know my fucking brother trusted you? And now you have broken that trust for some whore," I vented while wiping the tears away from my cheeks.

I got up from the couch, holding my championship on my shoulder and staring down at him deeply, "Maybe I was a fool to fall in love with you, maybe it was dick that was making me feel this way or something, but I hope you and her both have a wonderful life together I'm gone Josh," before I could head out the door I felt him scooping me up by the thighs causing me to yelp as he took us over to his couch keeping me place on his lap.

His arms snaked around my waist, and I placed my championship next to him, wrapping my arms around his neck for support.

"Don't go please minks, You know I love you," Jey said placing soft kisses on my neck.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be with Liv Morgan now, would ya?" I tried to resist his wet kisses trailing down my neck because I didn't want to give in; that's how it'll make me look dumb.

"She doesn't mean anything to me like you do," I said, turning away from him, not wanting to listen to anything else he had to say.

He continued to give me wet soft kisses on my neck while placing his hands on my ass cheeks squeezing them both.

I didn't know if this was his way of saying sorry it's definitely working because I am starting to give in to this man as my anger started to go away.

My body didn't operate properly whenever he touched me, Jey gazed up at me seeing me trembling under his touch.

"C'mon you know you love this shit," this was manipulation at this point but he wasn't wrong about that. I managed to push him away while getting up from his lap grabbing my title in the process.

"T-this doesn't feel right at all Josh, after you fucked her now you wanna get into my panties? Nah I'm not doing this with you anymore I'm out," I said as I left his locker room leaving him dumbfounded.

✧˚° OMNISCIENT Yasmine been getting a bunch of miss calls from Jey ever since she left the arena, she was in her hotel room with the blankets over her body watching a movie that's when she heard her door knocking.

She groaned deeply feeling annoyed as she got up from the bed while going towards the door looking through the peephole to see who it was.

It was Trinity standing there along with Bianca she opened the door seeing them look at her. She let them in as she went towards her bed sitting on it.

"Girl, what's is going on with you and Jey?" Trinity questioned her.

'What the fuck did he tell them?'

'Ion' even wanna bring his ass up after what he did,'

"I'm not speaking to him anymore after what he did," She said folding her arms in the process.

They both looked at each other then back at her with a confused expression on their faces. "What do you mean?"

That's when she explained to them that Jey had been fucking around with Liv while showing them the picture that she had gotten from Liv's phone number.

They were shocked to say the least even Trinity knowing that Jey was a loyal man but this was something surprising to her.

"Did you at least hear him out?" Yasmine shook her head.

"No, I refused to listen to him whatsoever because he didn't seem trustful," Yasmine replied as she heard the girls sigh.

Yasmine eyebrows furrowed slightly as she looked at them with a perplexed expression before saying something. "What y'all?"

They both looked at each other and then back at Yasmine.

"We feel like y'all should talk things out—" That's when she lost it.

"IM SORRY? I AM NOT GOING OUT MY WAY JUST FOR HIM TO FUCK ME AND THEN BE WITH THAT WHORE LIV. TALK THINGS OUT TUH." She lashed out at them, running her fingers through her hair, feeling frustrated.

"We understand that, but at least hear him out. Minks for us, please," Bianca begged, seeing Yasmine in disbelief.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing right now, her best friends telling her to listen to a man who fucked another girl and played in her face.

The only way she could listen to what he had to say was if he was going through something or feeling bad about it.

"No, no, I'm not going to do that respectfully. I love you guys, but if you're going to take his side, then all can leave." With that, Yasmine got up from her bed and went towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind her as she slid down on it.

Covering herself in between her legs along with muffled cries and tears coming down her cheeks, she didn't want to speak to him.

She didn't want to deal with him any further, but her heart said something different. She knew that he meant well and didn't want it to happen, but it did.

Yasmine knew that she loved him, that he was her peacemaker, especially when dealing with complicated things like this.

She sat there for a while in the bathroom before hopping in the shower, trying to clear her thoughts.

After taking a shower, she put on some comfy clothes while picking up her phone, debating whether to text him or go see him in his hotel room.

Biting her fingernails she looked at the time, all she could think 'damn he's probably sleep right now,' But she decided to say fuck it and go see him to hear what he has to say.

She put on her slippers and Hoodie while going towards the elevator since his room was on the second floor. Yasmine waited patiently for the elevator to go up to the second floor remembering his room number.

The elevator doors opened as she walked out, heading towards his hotel room. When she approached his room, she knocked on the door, waiting for him to come open it.

Yasmine had her arms folded around her chest as she heard footsteps from behind the door. When the door swung open, he was standing there towering over her 5'2 "figure.

He was shirtless, with his Cuban gold chain around his neck. He was also wearing some sweats and his slides.

"What'chu doing here this late, little mama?" He asked, looking around the hallway.

"I came to see you...I wanna hear what you have to say Josh..." Yasmine said gazing up at the fine Samoan specimen.

He nodded his head while stepping aside for her to come into his room as he shut the door behind them. She sat down on his bed, which smelt like him. His scent put her in a trance.

"You want something to drink, little lady?" She nodded her head as he gave her a cold water bottle.

Once he was settled in, he sat down next to her, admiring her features while he placed his hands on her thigh, rubbing it and letting out a sigh. "Look, what I did was wrong, and I didn't mean for it to happen but she kept pushing me and pushing me until I couldn't anymore without even thinking that it would hurt you minks,"

Yasmine was listening to him attentively, gazing into his brown, pretty eyes.

"I was planning on coming to see you, too, but she came in the way, and I didn't know about the picture she took either. Like I said before, you mean way more to me than her," Jey said, intertwining his hands with her small ones.

"I'm sorry, mama, like for real." She looked into his eyes to see if there was any sincerity behind his words, and there was.

She turned around to face him while sighing deeply, "You know how much that hurt me, Josh? Seeing you in that position with her? It felt like a bullet shot me dead in the heart after seeing that," Yasmine heard her voice crack a little bit.

"You're my peacemaker, and I felt like I lost my person," his eyebrows began to furrow a bit when she said that.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

Yasmine was very hesitant to express her feelings to him because she wasn't sure if he felt the same way as she did, so she just left it alone. She opened her mouth, beginning to say something, but nothing came out, so she closed it while avoiding eye contact with him.

That's when he grabbed her by the chin, placing his soft lips onto hers. This caught her off guard, but she managed to catch on as their lips moved in sync.

Wrapping her arms around his neck as he placed her onto his lap, causing her to grind on him while he gave her ass a smack.

"Fuck, I love you so much, Minks, you don't even know," He confessed as her facial expressions became perplexed.

"Y-you what?" She questioned him.

"You heard me, little girl. I said I love you like you're in love with me, right?" His statement shocked her.

Was this true? That he actually loves her?

"You playing right?" Jey shook his head, gazing up at her.

"No, I'm not. I'm serious, mamas; I'm serious about us," that made her heart flutter as she smiled at him, knowing how he loved it whenever she smiled.

For the rest of the night, they made love, embracing each other's scent.

SOMETHING BOUT' US

A/n: sorrrry for the late update I've been busy at work this past week but I'll be updating again but I hope what Jey is saying is true because ion like it when Yasmine is getting played especially after dealing with Mello ass.

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[bi-buck-coded]

how many countries are in this country

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

[unnonexistence]

hermann thoughts: if i discredit newton and his approach enough, the martial won't give him the equipment for his kaiju drift, and i can protect him from himself. if he despises me for it, so be it. there is little i wouldn't sacrifice to see him safe.

newt thoughts: this is a Best Science competition and i have to Win

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Okay challenge mode. You are a therapist and Eridan Ampora from Homestuck has just walked right out of his intro page into your office. How do you fix him?

put him and karkat in a room with a pile of stuff and tell them they can't leave until they've jumped into it and talked about their feelings

[camelhaircoat]

got to the end of my re-read 👍

i love them so much

[samarecharm]

Love being able to write. I can do whatever i want. I can make Ryuji interact w Lala-chan and u literally cant stop me.

[mamawasatesttube]

i have to speak my truth. i think timkon clone baby aus fucking suck

[lesbiantrish]

i think i could heal if people were more crazy about spydoc. btw

[daily-hanamura]