#I’ve been doing this for like months and somehow I’m still fucking going

[frozenjokes]

if I write another 5k fic within the span of two days I’m going to vomit

[barley-st-band]

hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

[exopelagic]

yeah I have more to say

[voulezloux]

.

[dadbots]

Happy holidays / Yule / upcoming traditions. 🖤

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

────────────

Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

──────────────────

December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

──────────────────

To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[evie-sturns]

Cry - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you and your boyfriend, matt, have spent the day together. you've been snapping at him the whole time, until it gets too much for matt and you accidentally make him cry. you find a way to make everything up to him.

contains: sub!matt, nsfw, blowjob?, matt crying, angst.

------------------≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫-----------------

matt and i have been dating for 7 months, sure, we’ve argued before but it’s never lasted more than a day and it’s never affected us that much. i’ve never seen matt cry, according to his brothers he hates crying infront of people, or even talking about it. 

today we’ve been bickering non stop, i’ve been making snarky comments and snapping at him for pathetic reasons, matt’s just been ignoring it.

9:24pm

i sit on the dining table, matt directly opposite me on his phone as he takes small bites of his dinner. “matt.” i say, my voice almost like a robot.

“mhm?” he hums, his eyes fixed on his screen, i groan, “for fucks sake matt.” i huff under my breath. 

“what is it?” matt asks, his finger continuing to scroll across his screen. 

i don't know why i've been so on edge today, everything matt's done has pissed me off. the way his hand is cemented onto his phone pisses me off.

“fucking stop! you don’t even care about me the only thing you do is go on your phone, your an actual excuse of a boyfriend.”

the words leave my mouth quicker than i can process, i don’t even fully comprehend what i’m saying.

i finish off my yelling fit by slamming matt’s phone out of his hands.

he stands up abruptly, his bottom lip shaking as his eyes well with tears. “don’t fucking say that.” 

i scoff, folding my arms and playing with my nails. matt lets in a sharp inhale, a shaky sob exiting his mouth.

my head snaps up to look at him, he’s got tears soaking his pink cheeks, his lips a raw red. he reaches his ringed fingers up to rub his eyes before speed walking out of the dining room, directly towards our bedroom.

my heart drops, an aching infecting my body. i feel a wave of guilt wash over me, tears somehow prickling in the corners of my eyes. i wipe my face quickly, 

i’ve just made matt cry. shit.

i stand up from my wooden chair, the chair legs screeching on the wooden floor. 

my footsteps tap on the ground as i slowly walk towards matt and i’s shared room, the door is shut. 

i stand outside for a few seconds, pressing my ear, which is decorated in sets of earrings, up to the wooden planks.

i hear sniffles coming from inside the room, and small crys. my heart pounds against my ribs as i twist the door handle.

i’m met with matt’s body which is sitting at his desk, his back facing me. i’m not sure he heard me, so i walk over to him. 

i tap his grey sweater, the cute wool sweater that he wears whenever he’s cold, the sweater his mom gave him in high school, which still fits him.

i feel him tense under me, he swings his head round to look at me, his eyelashes are dark and wet, his cheeks a deep red and his lips swollen. 

i take one look at him and my stomach forms a pit, i wrap my arms around his neck, yanking him into a deathly tight hug as i bend down to his seated height.

matt doesn’t hug me back, his arms hang loosely by his sides. i bury my head into the crook of his neck,

after a few seconds i pull away, visible nerves on my face, matt’s tilts his head down to his lap, where his hands rest, fiddling with his rings.

“matt please, look at me.” i say, my voice barely audible. his head shakes, i nod my head “okay.” i whisper.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean any of that, i promise it’s just the week before my period. you know i get in these stupid moods that i can’t handle.”  i say softly,

matt continues to stare down at his lap.

i get down on my knees my hands resting on his thighs, my nails scratching the material of his sweatpants.

im at the height where i can see his full face, his lips slightly pouted. i stare up at him, his eyes lock with mine for a split second. my hands travel to his waistband and grip the elastic, i look up at him again, asking for permission. matt's gaze drifts to my eyes again, he nods, his top teeth sinking into his lower lip.

i pull down his sweatpants to his midthighs, he's got no boxers on, already half hard.

i brush my thumb over his tip, earning a shaky groan from matt. i maintain eye contact with him, i feel him grow fully hard in my hand. i run my hand up his length a few times before taking my hands off him completley.

"please" matt clears his throat, "please what?" i tease, resting my hands on his thighs, he almost looks as though he’s going to cry again,

i can see his breathing intensify, "tell me what you want." i say calmly, matt lets out a whine, his leg bobbing up and down on the spot, "please." matt breathes out again.

i lean foward, wrapping my lips around matt's tip, a soft moan exits his mouth as he gentley tangles his fingers into my hair. i swirl my tongue around his tips before taking more of him further down my throat.

"close-" matt warns, bucking his hips up as his hands grip my hair tighter. i pull off his cock for a second to catch a needed breath,

"i need to." matt protests as his cheeks flush, small droplets of sweat gathering on his forehead, he runs his hand though my hair. i wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, "i know, i know." i say, quickly wrapping my mouth around him again as i scratch his thighs with my nails.

i bob my head up and down quicker, matts whimpers filling the room. i look up at him with doe eyes, he squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth.

i can see his breathing intensifying before he releases in my mouth, i pull off of him.

matt leans back in his chair, before quickly reaching a hand down under my mouth, i spit it out into his hand "sorry.." matt laughs slightly, grabbing a bunch of tissues and cleaning his hand and my lips.

"don't say sorry matt, my fault for getting you so worked up." i say, standing up and grabbing matts arm, pulling him up onto his feet. i lead him towards the bed, he stumbles slightly as he recovers from his orgasm.

i sit down on the bed, my back resting against the headboard. matt lays down next to me, i pull his head onto my chest.

"matt, i feel really bad." i start,

"what? for what? that was the best fucking experience i've had all month, the nails did somethin-" he rambles, i cut him off.

"no! about the things i said, and.. you know.. making you cry" i say with a small laugh.

"trust me, you made up for it, can you do the same tomorrow so i can get another blow job." matt smiles, i run a hand through his hair, shaking my head with a scoff.

---------------------

[mcondance]

lovely

“You say things with your mouth, cobwebs and flies come out / I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow / Luckily, I can read your mind, flies and cobwebs unwind / They will not take you down, They will not cast you out”

Or, you’re fine. And whatever other words hide behind those four letters. Spencer sees what a piece of you wants to hide from him.

notes fluff (mcondance writes fluff??) but still MDNI, reader is neurodivergent this is for my baby girls (audhd spencer reid kissers), inspired by those lyrics from lovely by twenty øne piløts, do not listen while you read. this is what having a dual tøp-spencer reid era does to a writer. gif from pinterest. also guys please i’ve been experimenting with layouts for my works for like… months now if this layout is ugly just ignore it please please. mcondance capitalizes ?!

word count 1.1k+ (closer to 1.2k hello i am proud)

You lie still on your back in the middle of the bed as you watch Spencer close the door and set his cardigan down on the chair by the dresser. He floats through the dim room, momentarily lit up by the interludes of soft moonlight wafting through the windows. He takes his place beside the bed. Your music pauses.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

“I’m fine.”

You’re lying. Spencer knows you’re lying; it wouldn’t take a genius to deduce that. It’s in your voice, most obviously. But it’s in the other details that only Spencer would notice, too. Not because he’s a genius, but because he’s your Spencer. 

The room is dark. Which wouldn’t be much of a problem, if you didn’t sound so bleak and tired when you spoke. You have your big headphones on, which, again, wouldn’t be so bad if you’d have pulled one back when he walked in, or even just told him that the song’s almost at the good part, and then after it hits you’ll take them off.

The room is bathed in moonlight. The moon, and your Spencer. Two shoulders for you to lean on. Three, actually, with the music you were just listening to. 

But all of the shoulders just aren’t enough to block out the bad feelings you’re having right now.

Overwhelmed. Sad. A little depressed. Whatever. 

“I don't think so, honey,” Spencer speaks softly from where he stands in a split of moonlight, hands in his pockets as he shrugs.

He glows in a silver streak. You sniffle. Fuck.

He allows silence to ensue, obviously giving you time to get your thoughts together. The bed dips to the left as he sits down beside you and props his leg up. A part of you wants to laugh at the common knowledge that if you had the will to look down you’d see an interesting sock and a Converse, but you don’t have the energy to do anything but what you’ve been doing since you let your playlist roll into its fifth run— lay down and alternate between staring out into the blackness of your room and the backs of your eyelids.

“It’s nothing,” you obfuscate. But it’s obviously not nothing.

Again, he lets his silence give you comfort instead of pushing you to talk. You take it gratefully, as it gives you the time you need to collect yourself and try to put words to what’s going on in your head and all under your skin.

You breathe in.

“I'm just… irritated.”

You breathe out.

A bit of weight lifts off of your chest at your short admission, but the elephant in the room continues to perch tall and proud on you, crushing you and leaving very little room for you to exist.

Still, Spencer is silent. The quiet puffs of his breath and the dip in the mattress are enough. Anything else would be too much, and he knows that. So he lets you lead him into the dark with you, he stays still and lets you guide him into the cavernous deep of all that you feel right now.

The fan whirs and cars pass outside the window. The stillness of the night almost laughs at the chaos ensuing in you.

Another breath, deeper this time as you gather the courage to try to express what it is you’re feeling.

“I don't know,” you blurt. “Everything's just too loud and my friends are all annoying and nothing on YouTube is interesting and I feel like I'm gonna explode and crumble all at the same time.” Those tears are bubbling up under the surface of your skin again and threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

And now that you’ve spoken and some of the tension in the air has dissipated, Spencer feels it’s appropriate for him to talk.

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve been working a lot lately without many breaks and now you’ve run out of steam, and that’s okay. It happens. You’re just burnt out.”

Horribly, his sweet words inflame a mean, hot part of you. You scoff, finding the strength to wipe a stray tear as it falls. Spencer knows you don’t mean it, that something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification.

Burnout. You hate that word. You wish it didn’t happen to you. You wish that you were normal and being stressed didn’t mean paralysis and staring at the ceiling like it’ll change and morph into an answer or a semblance of comfort. 

In the dark, you strain your eyes at his form. You can just barely make out the wisps of hair flying in all directions away from his face. His posture is terrible. You can tell he’s looking off to the side of you so you won’t feel overwhelmed under his eyes. Perhaps he was made for you.

The air softens, and you do too. The facade of anger slips away as quickly as it reared its ugly head. You take a shuddering breath and let your head fall towards him.

He moves closer and a beam of moonlight illuminates him as he takes you in with warmth etched onto the comfort of his face.

Something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification. 

Fortunately, Spencer won’t let that happen. 

How grateful you are for this man who won’t let you get the aloneness that some tired part of you craves. He’ll stick beside you and sit in silence for hours upon hours if it meant you wouldn’t feel alone. He has done that before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

With him smiling softly at you even in your cocoon of darkness, that sweet quirk of his lips that is ever-present when he’s looking at you, you feel a little better. Now, he can touch you. Before that thought even registers, he reaches out for your knee and rests his hand there, rubbing his thumb up and down over your skin.

It doesn’t cross the line of overstimulation, and it doesn’t feel like not enough. It’s just enough. Spencer can read you as well as the surplus of books he reads daily. There’s no push to get up, to take your headphones off or turn the light on.

Spencer wants only for you to breathe, and to know that he is here. When he hears your breathing become easy again, and he feels just a bit more of the discord you’re swathed in slip off of you, he knows you know.

His hand on your knee won’t nurse you back to your functioning form. And it’s not what he’s striving to do. 

And as you look through the darkness into his moon-bathed eyes, you know you’ll have him here with you every step of the way, by some divine power that put him in your life. And that’s okay. You won’t be okay for a while, but you have him to lean on. You’ll always have him to lean on. You feel the love he has for you radiating off of him, pushing into your skin as he caresses it slowly.

Getting out of bed sometime later sounds a little easier, now.

[steddieas-shegoes]

a new bottom in town

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop up event 'anniversary'

rated e | 902 words | cw: references to injury | tags: post-vecna, established relationship, top eddie munson, bottom steve harrington, anal sex

🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃

“Can we try something new?” Steve asks as they finish eating the cheesecake Eddie brought home to celebrate their anniversary.

Six months may not seem like a lot to some, but for Steve and Eddie, it was a major milestone and they wanted to treat it as such. The first four months they spent together was mostly at the hospital while Eddie learned how to walk and talk and eat again.

“Sure, baby. What is it?” Eddie sets his fork down and leans forward so he’s in Steve’s space.

“Um. Could you…could you fuck me?”

Eddie’s heart stops.

Listen, it’s not that he doesn’t want to. If anything, he’s fantasized about doing just that for years.

But he’s still gaining muscle mass back in his legs and abs, and he doesn’t have the stamina he had before the bats took it with their teeth.

“Like…put my…”

“Yeah. I’d really…I’d like you to be inside me.”

Eddie’s not sure if he’s dreaming, but this feels like something right out of his best fantasy. He’s just a little hesitant because, well, he doesn’t want to be a disappointment. Their sex life is great as it is, and changing it up now, especially before Eddie’s back to full health, may put everything to a screeching halt.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to.” Steve continues when Eddie doesn’t answer. “I’m good with fucking you if you prefer that.”

“No! No, Stevie. I want to. Trust me.” Eddie gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just not sure I can?”

Steve seems to realize what he’s worried about quickly, nodding like he understands. But after a few seconds, he’s smiling.

“I could ride you?”

Eddie’s definitely dead and somehow he got into heaven or hell is a lot nicer than people led him to believe.

“You would wanna ride my dick? Like, while I do nothing?” Eddie asks for clarification.

“I mean, I’m sure you could do something. But yeah. I could do most of the work,” Steve shrugs like this is not life-changing to Eddie.

“You want me inside of you that bad?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda all I’ve been thinking about for a while,” Steve flushes as he scoots his fork along his empty plate.

“And you think this is a gift for you?”

“It’s a gift for both of us.”

“Then let’s get upstairs, sweetheart.”

Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes bright with desire and excitement. “Really?”

“It’s not exactly a big ask of me to lay in bed and let you ride my dick, baby.”

Steve is out of the room before Eddie’s even up from his chair. Eddie laughs as he follows him, much slower, but finally able to go without the cane around the house. He doesn’t really mind it, but it’s nice to feel more independent without it for something like this.

By the time he’s in their room, Steve’s naked and pouring lube onto his fingers.

“Damn. Okay. Are we in a rush?” Eddie leans against the doorway and crosses his arms.

“I was gonna prep myself so you could watch.”

“Steve. Baby. Love of my life.” Eddie walks to the bed and sits down, crossing his legs and leaning his face in his hands. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me. Continue.”

Steve flushes from his chest to his forehead and Eddie can’t get enough. He resists further interrupting him, though.

He watches Steve lean back against the pillows at an angle, teasing his own hole while Eddie barely bites back a moan. He’s been hard since he walked in the room and saw Steve’s bare ass in the bed, but now he can feel the urgency of needing to lose his clothes and get inside Steve.

Steve’s efficient and Eddie is definitely asking him about how he’s so good at opening himself up later, and within minutes, Steve’s begging for Eddie to lay down.

Eddie gets undressed as quickly as possible and finds a comfortable position against the headboard.

Steve straddles him, lines up his cock, and slides down before Eddie can even process what’s happening.

They moan together, long and loud.

“Fuck, is this how you feel when I’m inside you?” Steve gasps as he lifts himself and drops back down.

“Full? Hot? Tingly?” Steve nods. “Then, yes. Shit, Stevie, you’re so tight. It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, feels so good.” Steve’s head falls back as he finds a slow rhythm, still cautious as he stretches himself further.

Eddie’s hands rest on his hips, not helping, just holding.

“Wanna do this every night,” Steve groans as his pace picks up. “Forever. Can we?”

“Baby, if I wake up and this wasn’t a dream, we can do it whenever you want.”

“Touch me.” Steve demands, always so bossy even when he’s getting everything he wants. Eddie touches him because he will always do what Steve asks of him. “Fuck, faster. Yeah, like that.”

When they come less than a minute later, Steve collapses against Eddie, head on his shoulder and arms a deadweight by his sides.

“You okay?” Eddie asks as he rubs his back with one hand.

“So good.” Steve kissed his shoulder. “I’m the bottom now.”

Eddie cackles. “We can take turns.”

“80/20?”

“Okay. Let me get my strength back so I can fuck you properly and we’ll see if you still want that.”

Steve pulls back and smirks. “Where’s your cane?”

[eggyrocks]

SICK: KUROO T.

tags/warnings: kuroo x f!reader, coworkers to lovers, new year’s party, throwing up, drinking/alcohol, reader is throwing up from being too drunk that’s basically the plot, it's a little gross

word count: 1.1k

Through the thin walls of the bar’s bathroom, she can vaguely hear the cheers of the crowd, and she can only assume that the clock has hit midnight. It’s the new year, and she’s face down in a toilet, spitting up green tea shots. 

The noise of the crowd fades, and the music gets turned up. But it’s harder to hear now, because she’s heaving and coughing, body desperately trying to expel all the poison she filled her body with, up until about twenty minutes ago. 

There’s a large hand holding up her hair. Because the physical pain of puking in a sticky bar bathroom isn’t enough, she has to endure the humiliation of doing it in front of Kuroo Tetsurou. 

When Kuroo had asked her if she wanted to accompany him to this New Year’s party that his friend was hosting, she didn’t hear him, because she was too focused on the way his hand tugged at the knot of his tie, yanking it away from his neck. When he asked her again, her face got hot and the blood whipped around in her body so fast she thought she might pass out. Naively, she had assumed that after months of festering a fat, blistering crush on her coworker, she would finally have an opportunity to look desirable in front of him. 

She didn’t account for the fact that, out of nervousness, she would compulsively order shots and drink them like water, leaving her with blurry vision and a swayed step before Kuroo even finished his first beer.

When the bile first started working it’s way up her throat, she had tried to excuse herself quietly, without much commotion. But because Kuroo is fucking perfect, and has to be a gentlemen, he followed her to the single-stall bathroom, water bottle in hand. 

A hiccup pops out of her, and she slumps. Her stomach feels almost empty now. And the worst part of it is, the puking killed her buzz, and now she has to face Kuroo that much more sober. With her face still pointed down, and a bit of spit dripping from her chin, she says, “Please don’t get me fired over this.” 

Kuroo laughs, and his hand releases her hair, and travels down her back, spreading out between her shoulder blades. His thumb draws circles over her shirt. “I blew chunks at the office Christmas party, so, y’know, mutually assured destruction.” 

She chuckles, and then regrets it when she thinks she’s going to throw up again. She holds her breath, but nothing comes up. It’s a false alarm. 

“C’mon,” Kuroo urges, and uses his thumb to tap on her back. “You should sit up, have some water.” 

She doesn’t want to. She’s not sure she can look Kuroo in the eye, but she can’t live in the toilet bowl forever, so she lifts her head, and whips off the corner of her chin with the back of her sleeve. His hand slips off of her and settles back into his lap. Her eyes dodge his, and instead they linger on the floor between them. 

His long legs are folded as he sits on the floor, and his knees brush against hers. Kuroo grabs a plastic water bottle, and holds it in her direction. “You should drink.” 

Without any protest, she grabs the bottle and it crinkles under her grip. She uncaps it and swishes water around in her mouth, spitting it out back into the bowl before she takes a good, proper gulp. Once she’s done, she caps it again. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Kuroo replies easily. Neither one of them makes a move to leave. 

“I’m really sorry,” she says. “I know you didn’t want to spend New Year’s with your puking coworker on the bathroom floor.” 

Kuroo smirks. “See, that’s what you would think. But I’ve actually been hoping for this outcome. This is actually really lucky for me.”

Her body is exhausted from the drinking and the puking, but it still somehow finds enough energy to get nervous over this. Her spine straightens out. “Why, you have some weird fetish or something?” 

And Kuroo laughs, but she groans, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. She’s still operating off the whiskey in her body. “Ugh,” she bemoans, “don’t get me fired for that either.” 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a fetish,” Kuroo tells her. “I’m just happy to be alone with you. I can deal with the puking if it means getting away from the crowd.” 

Her face gets hot again. Her whole body gets hot, and her ears start to buzz. “Well, maybe next time you want to be alone, you can be the one throwing up, and I’ll be the cool one with the water bottle.” 

Kuroo nods, and she can almost swear that there’s a tinge of red to his cheeks. “Okay, next time I’ll drink all the green tea shots. Then we’ll be even.” 

She smiles. Her stomach has stopped rolling, but it’s oddly comfortable on the bathroom floor, sitting cross-legged across from Kuroo. And even though her throat is burning and her head is throbbing, she’s content, sitting there with him. She doesn’t want to get up, and she wants him to feel the same. “Do you want to go back out there?” she asks softly, voice hoarse. 

“Nah,” Kuroo replies. “The party kind of sucks.” 

“Maybe you’re not drunk enough,” she rebuttals. “Seemed great to me.” 

Kuroo shrugs. “To be honest with you, I didn’t really wanna come out tonight. The only reason I did was because you said you’d come with me.” 

She swallows thickly, and now she feels dizzy again. “Really?” 

“Yeah. If you had said no, I wouldn’t have come. But you said yes, and I thought that maybe you’d let me kiss you at midnight.” 

She throws up again. 

It comes quickly, and she coughs it up as fast as she can, not sure if it’s from still from the alcohol or now it’s the nerves or it’s some awful combination of both. When her stomach’s emptied again, she sits up so quickly there’s black spots in her vision. “What?” she pants. 

Kuroo looks at her with wide, amazed eyes. “Y’know, that’s the first time someone’s thrown up at the idea of kissing me.” 

“I’d kiss you,” she rushes out. “If I wasn’t puking, I’d kiss you.”

For a moment, Kuroo studies her. His eyes trail over her face and down to her chest that rises and falls with each breath. “Are you sure you’re not just drunk?” 

She nods, almost too eagerly, but she can attribute that to being too drunk. “I’ve wanted to for so long.” 

Kuroo leans forward, and his hand raises to gently cup her cheek. His skin is pleasantly cool, and she leans into his touch, enjoying the way it cools her hot, clammy skin. “Well, let’s get you home, then,” Kuroo whispers, “so you can brush your teeth.”

an: this was stupid lmafo

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FOURTEEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings none! my girls are getting on the right track in this one.

kalena speakss 🪽! this chapter might be a little underwhelming for y’all but it’s so key for the ending of this story and allat!

July 2025 — Kia Forum, Inglewood, California 

I never imagined that singers— especially really fucking good ones— could be so terrible at singing happy birthday.

Backstage at Kia Forum I’m joined by none other than Destin Conrad and Victoria Monet, and multiple other members of my team, just minutes away from going out on stage.

I can hear the crowd and feel the rumble under my feet even though no one is out yet. 

“You guys do know my birthday isn’t until tomorrow, right?” I laugh when the singing comes to an end.

Destin drapes an arm over my shoulder, slightly bumping his hip against mine. “Yes, but it will be by the time we’re off stage.” He responds, squeezing my shoulder gently and leading me closer to that black stage. The instrumental of Unpredictable plays, and Destin is walking out to start his verse.

I shake off any nerves that reside on my mind and adjust the grip on the microphone in my hand.

There’s always a moment of clarity whenever I’m about to go on stage, like the feeling of being so loved by thousands of people is surreal. 

Footsteps grow increasingly louder behind me, I tug out my inner ear monitor to look over at who is behind me.

“Kea?” My eyebrows furrow and I gasp just slightly surprised. I knew she would be here, she made a big deal of explaining how Cameron, Paige, and herself would get comfortable in their suite and cheer for me the loudest of anyone in the arena.

So I fully expected her to be, well, in her suite. Not here.

“Listen—”

“I have to go—”

“I know, just listen. I know about Paige. She told me everything, and I'm not mad it’s just,” Rickea pauses with a sigh and I look at her pointedly, silently telling her to hurry it up before I miss my cue.

“You should hear her out. I know you’re hurting over it all, and rightfully so, but I know Paige. And I don’t think she’s ever been more regretful of something in her life.” She adds.

“Is she here?” I ask.

“No, she thought you didn’t want her here.”

It makes me frown. Because even now, after all the things I’ve said, or rather left unsaid, I still wish she was here. 

When she came and saw me the first time, I didn’t even know she was there and it sucked. It sucked because I was so desperately missing her. My mind was racing over thoughts of her and she wasn’t there. Somehow, knowing that she stayed home tonight hurts even more.

Knowing that Paige thought I’d rather have her at home than here, fucking hurts. I did that. I made her feel like that.

I didn’t think that it was possible to miss someone this bad. Paige had literally weaved her way into my life and in two months had me wrapped around her finger.

She should be here. No matter what. She said she would so she should’ve followed through. Why didn’t she follow through?

I reluctantly nod at Rickea’s words, hearing Destin’s voice echo through the building as my verse approaches. I look back and forth from my sound manager and herself, my words resting on my tongue, mouth slightly parted.

“I— I gotta go.” I murmur wrapping my hand tighter around my microphone and backing up towards the stage, and Rickea looks defeated. I can only imagine how many conversations about me she had to have had with Paige in order for her to tell me to speak to her.

“I will.” I called out. “I’ll talk to her, I mean.”

That’s all I say before beginning my verse, exiting to the stage and being greeted by the cheers of my sold out audience.

—

July 2025 — Two weeks ago

“Your birthday is coming up soon.” Paige mumbles into the air. 

We sit on her couch, my legs resting on her lap while we do nothing but talk. I didn’t want to go home even though I knew I should. After the entire argument I had with Julian earlier, my phone has been blowing up with texts and calls from him. I knew that if I were to go home, I’d be responding and giving him the exact response he’s wanting.

So instead I sit here, letting Paige rub up on my legs and tell me everything I want to hear. All too intimate for two people who aren’t supposed to be seeing each other.

“Yeah.” I respond, feeling goosebumps travel up my skin from the way her fingers play with the charm anklet by my foot.

“Why you say it like that? You ain’t excited?” She asks me, a chuckle tumbling past her lips.

“No, no! I am!” I smile. Her eyes on me are almost suffocating, I still can’t even find it in me to break the eye contact. “There’s a lot to be excited about. The show. Imma drive out to San Diego too.”

There’s a sly bite to Paige’s lip as she looks at me, taking in everything I tell her. “San Diego? Whatchu doin’ out there?” She asks.

“I used to spend my birthday with my grandma. She got this nice ass place in La Jolla.” I start, thinking about all the birthdays I got to spend in California before even moving here. “She passed away a few years back, so I try to stay at her place for my birthday weekend. It’s like she’s still here with me, y’know?” 

Paige frowns a bit, trailing her hand up my leg to squeeze at my calf. It’s comforting, saying all the words she has yet to.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that.” She says, her eyes softening just slightly.

I shrug. “Don’t be, it’s alright.” I slide my legs off of her lap and they drop to the floor. She looks at me almost disappointed that I’m no longer touching her. It’s late, past one o’clock, and the city is nearly asleep. We should be too. “You coming to the show?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, ma.”

That damned pet name is about to make me lose my mind. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she says it. The eye contact and lick of her lip, sometimes she smirks after and it turns me into a puddle every time. It’s almost more sensual than when she calls me ‘angel’. When she does that, I just feel warm inside. Giddy almost. She’s being a sweetheart. 

But when Paige fixes her lips and relaxes her jaw and opens her mouth to call me ‘ma’ it’s raunchy, and I can only imagine how it would sound when she's breathing all heavy. Whispering it in my ear, talking her shit to me in a way that would make me fall apart just for her. On her hands or mouth or literally anywhere.

“We should do sum. Like dinner after the show.” Paige suggests, voice sort of quiet. The sweet suggestion takes me out of my otherwise dirty thoughts. I can tell she’s been thinking about how to bring this up. Like she’s trying to get a feel of whether that would be too forward or not.

“So y’wanna take me on a date?” I smirk, watching the way her face flushes. We sit even closer to one another, my knee pressed up against her thigh as I sit on my haunches.

“I wanna do something nice for your birthday, actually.” She teases. “But if you wanna call it that, then sure. Lemme take you out then.”

I look at her incredulously, this was the same woman who just told me she didn’t want to be a home-wrecker, the same woman that swore she would give me space and time to figure my shit out. Yet here she is, with the bite of her lip and eye contact that makes me feel naked. The words fell from her tongue so sultry, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was blushing so bad that I was pink.

“Stop it.” I laugh, pointing at her with a squint of my eyes.

“Y’ont wanna go out wimme? I thought I was doin’ a great job at being all charming and shit.” Paige leans into me, her head just slightly angled as she bores into my eyes. “I think you and me would have a great night at dinner.”

“I think you are very bold.”

“I think you should kiss me.”

It shuts me up, and I freeze and look at her like she has three heads. Paige, however, looks very proud of herself. Smug, even.

“You’re crazy.” I mutter, sitting up from my spot on her couch to trot towards the door. She follows me instantly, her laugh echoing in my ear. Paige grips my wrist, pulling me to her until my back is pressed against her chest and her arms are wrapped tight around my waist.

“C’mon I’m just kidding.” She mumbles.

“No you’re not!” I laugh, attempting to get her off my back, but really really I don’t want her to move. I like this feeling of Paige all on me like this. Her body is warm, breath fanning my neck.

“Okay, just one last kiss.” Paige turns me around in her embrace. I always forget how tall she is, because most of the time we’re just close enough where it feels eye to eye.

But she towers over me right now, Calvin Klein scent traveling down to my nose, blonde hair tickling her tanned skin. She’s stunning. Gorgeous in a way that I’ve never seen before. 

“Just one, before you go.”

“Are you begging me?”

“Will it make you kiss me if I say yes?”

I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t stop me. I’m instantly reaching for her face, cupping her cheeks in my hands and angling my head towards hers. She kissed me slowly, lips barely even moving against my own as she grabbed my hips.

I don’t think I want this to end, if I could spend the rest of my life kissing her I think I’d be happy. 

“—Good kisser.” Paige groans against me.

I pull back from her sucking on my bottom lip which is now wet from her saliva. “Whatchu say?”

“Said you’re a good kisser, ma.” She repeats. Her thumb traces over my bottom lip. “You break up with what’s his name, and we can do a lot more of that.” Paige shrugs, moving in and kissing me again. It's even shorter, something I could barely consider a peck.

But I’d be a fool to stop her.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

Only I would be distracted by Maraye while she isn’t even in the room.

My flight to Indiana is in the morning and I should be packing the clothes that surround me where I sit on the floor. But I can’t tear my eyes away from my TV, the Amazon Prime replay of her birthday bash playing on my screen.

She looked incredible last night. A long crystallized black dress was what she wore first. Then some baggy jeans and a vintage Atlanta Falcons jersey that was tucked just right where I could catch a glimpse of a new tattoo on her rib. The camera can barely make it out, but I saw it and it was occupying a spot in my brain all night.

I shouldn’t be here. I mean sure, I should be packed and ready to go for the weekend. But I shouldn’t be sitting on the floor like an idiot.

I should be at some fancy restaurant, Maraye sitting across from me in some pretty dress with that fucking lip combo she wears that makes me forget my name. 

It’s her birthday for God’s sake, I should be wishing her a happy birthday and telling her how fucking important she is in my life. I texted her earlier today, first thing when I woke up actually. Just like my other texts, it went unread and unanswered.

I reach for the rest of my clothes on the floor, packing jeans and shorts and shirts into my suitcase haphazardly. It was hard to focus when I could hear her singing in the background. 

SOS. The first song I ever heard of hers, the song that is probably to blame for what became an obsession with her. She sounds just as perfect as she did then. Maybe even more. But I'm not sure if that’s because she’s gotten even better as a musician or if it’s because I’m so embarrassingly down bad that the slightest change in tone makes me think that.

Probably both.

I can feel my phone vibrate against the carpet, my lock screen, or rather the bible verse written on it flashes bright. John 13:7.

I see her contact name almost as bright.

It’s been what feels like forever since she’s texted or called me. Even longer than when I saw her at the gala. My mind short circuits and I haven’t even opened it yet.

When I do, I feel like I can breathe again. It’s minor, not an emoji or exclamation mark in sight but it still makes me feel like everything is right again. 

Happy birthday angel, missin you extra today sent 7:02am

thanks sent 6:12pm

That’s it. Thanks. But it’s something, something that lets me know she knows I exist. That’s all I can really ask for right now.

i miss you

can we talk soon? i know you’re busy with all star stuff but whenever ur ready, i am too sent 6:15pm

That one I didn’t expect. Not in the slightest.

But I smile anyway, staring at my phone like a fucking high school girl with a crush.

i miss you too

i’m free rn, i’ll come over just say the word  read 6:16pm

maraye 🫀 started sharing location 6:16pm

When I click her location I nearly scoff. La Jolla, San Diego. Over 2 hours away. I’d be crazy to get in my car, and drive out there when I have a flight at four in the morning. When I have clothes that still need to be paired together and shoes that need to be picked and toiletries to be packed.

I’d be crazy to drive to San Diego to see her when I don’t know what she wants to say. She could tell me she doesn’t want shit to do with me.

But then there’s that other possibility. The one where she could tell me she wants me, needs me, loves me. I think the fact that there is a chance, no matter how slim, that she could forgive me and that I can fix this means more than everything else.

So I’d be crazy not to go. Right?

—

July 2025 — San Diego, California 

I’m crazy.

I know she’s leaving, maybe tonight, probably in the morning. And I am too. A flight to Indy is waiting for me tomorrow morning. I shouldn’t distract her before the biggest weekend of her life with this. With something that could’ve been fixed forever ago if I just let her speak.

I was going to let the silence go for the rest of the weekend. Talk to her when we get back, maybe even after the game.

Then Rickea got to me, and Paige was texting me happy birthday, and then I saw them.

Texts that started with long paragraphs, apologies that then I would’ve called phony or weak. They dwindled from those long thought out messages to short ones. A few sentences that turned into a few words. 

But they never stopped. She never stopped texting. 

So now, when I read them, I know she was serious. I know she was sorry.

I know that when she texts me, saying she stayed up at night thinking of me, or that she funnily enough thought she was playing terrible without my live texts— she meant it. All of it.

I’m otw

Traffic is shitty but I’m coming

Stay up for me?

Omg I just triple texted like an idiot.. ignore all that sent 8:00pm

i’m waiting :) read 8:01pm

That’s all I really can do. Just wait. 

And when I do hear that knock or get that phone call I know where I’m going. I’m going back to her. Because it’s always going to be her.

Paige is my person.

[fleur-bbyy]

I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE

playlist

⭒pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader.

⭒wc: 4.8k

⭒warnings: SEX (MINORS DNI), continuation of the porn!au, characters are aged up to 21+, reader is not of a certain skin color, use of names like ‘bunny,’ daddy kink, spanking with belt, live camming, mentions of; onlyfans, pegging, plugs, fingering (f! receiving), cunnilingus, slight breath play, small part of m! receiving oral, degrading, if I forgot anything I will update this later on!

⭒author’s note: y’all the amount of times I had to change the fake usernames to not accidentally tag someone is crazy. will scream, cry, and throw up if I still somehow managed to.

part one.

“you still wanna go through with it?”

“fuck yeah. show that fucker what he’s missing with us.”

it’d been a few months since you and katsuki had professionally filmed together for the first time. watching the opportunity for a decent cash flow get even bigger after more and more sick bastards wanted to see the two of you together. becoming a little more than professional acquaintances as you filmed together more and more.

it felt like the two of you could only keep growing until that douchebag that calls himself a director publicly shit on both of your names. calling the two of you ‘unprofessional’ and a slew of other names, even going as far to say he could’ve ‘done it without the both of you’ whilst he basked in the glory of his first successful porno. your ranks and ratings didn’t drop that much, but it was enough to piss the two of you off.

so now here the pair of you are, about to prove to that dickhead director that you didn’t need him, he needed you.

“it’s just been a while since i’ve cammed live. I feel like i’m back at the beginning again.”

“i bet. we’ve all come a long way though.” he stood up from where he was sat at the laptop perched upon your desk, angled towards the chaise lounge in your room. everything was set and ready with a timer counting down from five minutes. for some reason you were nervous about camming again.

maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t done so in so long.

or maybe it was that you didn’t know what the hulking blond standing over you had in store.

“we still have four and a half minutes left,” he rough hand stroked your soft cheek, “wanna let me get a little taste before you start, bunny?” his free hand cupped your cunt covered with white lace.

“nuh-uh. don’t spoil yourself now or you’ll have nothing left in you in a few.” you pushed him off and walked over to where the laptop was set up to check the countdown once more. making sure to shimmy your hips as you walked to show off your cute ass to him.

he already felt quite feral just looking at you. body clad in skimpy, white lingerie with cute little bunny ears on your head and a cotton tail attached the the back of your thong. the thigh-high socks squeezed the fat of your thighs so perfectly his cock was already straining against his jeans.

“have it your way, princess, but remember who’s in charge today. no shitty scripts to follow, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” you didn’t know whether you should feel more aroused or terrified at the thought. you’ve seen his videos from when he was amateur. unscripted, he was ruthless. fucking whoever was with him in the most insane, body-contorting positions, having them drool all over themselves. you weren’t ashamed to admit that you had touched yourself many times before to the sound of the filth that he spoke into the mic.

“it’s almost time, bunny. c’mere and sit with me.” he beckoned you over to the lounge with a wiggle of his index finger. he was shirtless with his chest lightly oiled. you eyed the way his pecs and stomach glistened under the light every time he shifted. he switched out his jeans and boxers to just a pair of grey sweats with nothing underneath. you loved the way his trail of wispy, blond hairs started just below his naval and disappeared below the waistband.

he had you sitting with your back to his chest. he held you tightly, already copping a feel on your chest. kneading and pinching the fat of your breasts. he had your legs placed over his spread ones, making you completely open for the camera. your little thong barely covered a thing and was getting eaten by your lips. he used his other hand to slide down your body and gently rub your clit over the cloth.

you almost forgot what you were about to be doing until you heard the familiar pinging sound from money being sent in. this little cam show was pretty well advertised on both of your socials and even by some of your friends in the industry, so it was really not surprise that people were already sending tips in. you soon heard bakugo pipe up. his voice moderately loud so the microphone could pick it up.

“awh, bunny, hear all those horny bastards that already are spendin’ shit on you? we’ve barely done anything yet” you quickly nodded your head, wiggling your hips to try and get his hand to move faster.

“where are your fuckin’ manners?” he took the hand that was kneading your tits and brought it up to your neck, fastening his thick fingers around and lightly squeezing. you let out a small ‘thank you’ which you thought wouldn’t be enough. thankfully, bakugo had mercy right now.

he kept toying with your cunt, continuously growing wetter and wetter. your arousal now seeping through your thong and spreading onto your plush thighs. also dripping down onto bakugo, leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“already makin’ such a mess. you want it bad, don’t you?” he lightly slapped your already sensitive clit, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and do your core.

“yes. so bad.” you felt like a virgin that couldn’t make a complete sentence and your cheeks started to burn. it was kind of hard to feel embarrassed when you’re in your industry, but the way he toyed with you flipped a switch inside.

“yes what?” he stopped touching you and roughly pinched your nipples, eliciting and piercing whine from you.

“yes daddy.” his cock twitched beneath you at the sound of your voice.

“good fuckin’ girl. why don’t you turn around and show them the pretty little ass of yours?” he unhooked your legs from his and brought them together so you could stand. you slowly got up, making sure to not lose your footing since your legs already felt like jelly. you heard the pinging start up again when you turned around and bent over slightly, wiggling your hips back and forth causing your ass to shake.

“come sit back down on me. daddy’s gonna play with you too, yeah?” you straddled his still-spread legs and his hands instantly found place on the fat of your ass. kneading, pulling, and squeezing every inch. you could feel his hard-on pressing right against your clit and you dared to start grinding down on him. because of that action, you were met with a harsh slap to your ass.

“who the fuck said you could grind on me? needy fuckin’ slut.” he roughly slapped your ass again and tips started to roll in at the sight of the bright red hand prints now adorning your backside.

“oh fuck, think these bastards are gettin’ off to the sight of you gettin’ punished, huh? who wants to see some more?” he was wearing the charming smirk on his face as he soothed the burning, red spots with his hands. rubbing circles on you and tilting his head to kiss and nip at your neck. the pinging sound that rolled in again signified that people did want to see more.

“alright, little bunny, all fours f’me.” you rolled off of him as he stood up, the obvious tent in his pants making your mouth water. he sauntered his way behind the lounge as you got in position. you could see out of the corner of your eye that he had picked up the belt he was wearing half an hour ago, striking the sides of the belt together to make a loud slapping sound as he approached you once more.

you felt his hands run over the spot where your lower back curved as the fabric of the lounge dipped down behind you. he caressed your smooth skin for a few moments more before he spoke up again.

“you’re gonna take ten of these yeah?” he leaned down and gripped the sides of your chin, turning your head to look towards him and the camera. “and you’re gonna count, lose your place and we start over. don’t fuck up and you get a reward. got that?” you furiously nodded your head and he cocked a warning brow at you. he let go of the death grip he had on your chin and lightly patted your cheek two or three times. you heard the leather of his belt slap against itself one more time before it was striking you.

your legs and cunt were both quivering as he delivered each blow to your sensitive skin. every strike was met with more pinging sounds as money was sent you way. your ass was covered in red spots and sore to the touch. he wasn’t entirely a monster, though, rubbing each area he hit with the palm of his hand after you struck you. despite the challenge, you didn’t lose your place and even thanked him afterwards. after the tenth was delivered, he pressed his soft lips to the spots most red and placed feather like kisses on you.

“so good f’me. so fuckin’ good f’me. daddy’ll give you what you want.” and with that he pushed your panties to the side and plunged two of his thick fingers in your wet heat. rapid fire fingering your aching pussy as he used his free hand to continue soothing the hot spots left on your ass from his belt.

the sight of your cute tears leaving mascara tracks down your pretty face in the screen of the laptop was enough to make him want to bust in his pants. the moans and whimpers that left your parted lips sounded so sweet, delicious even. and the feeling of your slick running down his middle and index finger was enough to make him lean down to lick your juices from the source as he replaced his fingers with his long tongue. his fingers found purchase again on your swollen clit, aching to be touched and he tongue-fucked you.

his movements were skillful. rubbing circles on your clit in a way the stimulated your nerves in just the right way. he worked his tongue oh so perfectly inside you, causing you to writhe under he touch. his free hand fisting at the fat of your ass.

he could tell that you were getting close by your moans increasing in volume and the way your pussy fluttered and clenched around his tongue. the pinging sound had slowed, pissing him off a bit.

“you wanna see this slut cum? pay the fuck up. we’re not doin’ this shit for free.” you whined when he pulled away from you, getting whatever the female equivalent of blue balls was. you dropped your top half down to the lounge, just leaving your ass in the air. you wiggled it a bit for the camera and for the blond staring at you through the laptop screen.

“shit, 15,000¥? these motherfuckers really are desperate. 20,000¥ and i’ll make this slutty bunny squirt.” he lightly ghosted his fingers over your pussy before deciding he wanted your panties that were still pushed to the side off. the strength of the explosive blond before you made you gush another bout of wetness as he tore them at the hips and pulled them off. even though you were desperate, you quietly whines at the loss. you really liked this lingerie set.

“oi, heard that shit. quit your bratty bitchin’ or you won’t cum until I do.” at that, he looked to the laptop and saw that someone had sent in the amount he requested and smirked.

“make sure to say ‘thank you.’” he dived back in your pussy, one hand on your clit, two fingers back in your cunt, and using his tongue to drink up any of your dripping slick. it wasn’t long before you felt that familiar pressure in your stomach and your hole started to twitch. shit, you were right there.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck thank you.. fuck.” your speech was slurred and words were jumbled together as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. he growled at the way your cunt gushed for him and all over him, drinking up as much as he could.

“shit, that’s my good fuckin’ girl. stand up f’me and show them your drenched pussy.” you did as he said, already feeling so fucked out to disobey. he held you by your hips as you stood, steadying your balance. using one of his big hands to spread your cheeks apart to show off your fucked hole, groaning at your reflection in the camera.

“d’you bastards miss when she was a cam slut? because i sure fuckin’ do.” he rubbed the side of your hip and ass as he pressed little kisses to your skin. it wasn’t long before the chat was beginning him to take his dick out and for you to take your bra off.

“awww. they want you to get naked too.” you teased, ruffling his blond hair.

“‘m sure they just want my cock out because that means i’m closer to destroying your insides.” he teased right back at you, softly smacking your backside.

you felt gracious about him giving you a little breather. you loved your work, loved making people feel good, but you hated how everything was go, go, go once the camera started rolling. sometimes having to just stay in bed the next day so the poor spot between your legs could take a break. when you felt ready, you tapped his shoulder and gave him a quick nod when he looked up.

you straddled his lap once more and pawed at his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. you just wanted him to stuff you full and you were willing to act out to get it.

“needy little whore arentcha? not fuckin’ you yet. on your knees.” he patted your face once more and got up with you to get you closer to the camera. only his lower half was in view, but your face and still-covered chest was on full display. you were visibly excited when he tugged his sweatpants down enough to free his rock hard dick. taking it into his hand and pumping it a few times before slapping your cheek with it.

“be a good bunny and open wide f’me.” as soon as you did so, he was shoving his cock in your mouth. fucking your face for true audience you’d garnered. you thought all you’d be getting was a rough face-fucking until he pushed his length all the way in. the tip of your nose was touching his groomed, blond hairs that grew from his pelvis. tears once again started to stream down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe through your nose.

“you want this bitch to breathe? 5,000¥. simple enough? ‘m lowballin’ because the slut seems desperate already.” he punctuated his last few syllables by lightly thrusting back and forth in your mouth. it still wasn’t enough for you to get a deep breath, but enough for you to not pass out.

as he looked at the screen, a specific ping of a donation caught his attention.

105,000¥ - fuck her now.

he pulled out and leaned down to where his face was in view. he gave you a moment to sputter and catch your breath before he was gripping you by the jaw to look at the camera.

“see how much they wanna pay for that sloppy cunt? whad’dya think?”

“mmmm, 20,000¥ more. my pussy’s worth it.”

“you fuckin’ heard her, pay up, bastards. or i’ll just fuck her off camera.” he finished his last word with another slap to your ass. his rough hand still had you by the jaw as he showed off your messy face. makeup smeared and mascara stains running down your hot cheeks. you smiled into the camera when you saw the notification come up that someone had sent the remaining amount of money.

“thank you, baby. bet you wish it was you here and not him. you’d treat me nice, right?” bakugo’s gaze bore into the side of your head as he listened to you flirt with whoever threw money your way. anything word you spoke that sounded remotely suggestive was like a buzzword for more tips to roll in. “mmm you want him to take my bra off? you’d better ask him nicely.”

he fixated his gaze off of you and onto the comments rolling in in the monitor. another 10,000¥ rolling in with the nice request that he strip you some more.

“you bastards are so fuckin’ desperate. bet you’re all touchin’ yourselves right now. waiting for her tits to be out before you bust.” he was standing behind you, unhooking the clasps on your bra and letting it drop to the floor. you were fully exposed for the camera now. the only thing remaining from your costume lingerie were your sheer thigh-highs and the bunny ears atop your head.

he reached around you tweak your hard nipples and play with the fat of your breasts, eliciting little moans from you.

“so fuckin’ pretty. she’s a pretty, pretty girl isn’t she?” his hand traveled down to your pussy and he ran a finger through the slit to assess if he needed to prep you or not. you were practically still dripping from earlier, slick running out of your needy cunt and spreading onto the insides of your thighs.

“time to make their money’s worth, bunny. ride my fuckin’ cock.” he sat back down onto the chaise lounge and beckoned you over with the curl of his index finger. the sight of him comfortably sprawled out with his sweatpants just lazily pulled down enough for his cock to be out made the ache between your legs throb even more.

“d’ya bitches wanna see her ass or tits bounce?” he kept you from sitting, rubbing up and down the side of your hips as his eyes focused in on the chat. responses were mixed with people who wanted to see either. a few comments sprinkled in about yours or his looks.

“looks like they can’t decide, we’ll do both.” he pulled you towards him and you straddled his lap in regular cowgirl. he rubbed the tip of his angry, red cock up and down your soaked slit. the look in his eyes was enough to make you gush another wave of arousal as he slowly eased in you. the stretch of him was welcomed by your warm walls and he bottomed out rather quickly from how horny you were. his tip lightly brushed your cervix, marking you squirm above him. he grabbed your hips and you kept an agonizingly slow pace.

“if you want him to split me open, i’m gonna need a little more from you, babies.” you looked over your shoulder and winked. your reflection in the screen was pretty, beautiful even. one of his hands was lazily placed on your hip and the other placed behind his head. the sight of him slowly disappearing and appearing again was a spectacular sight to see. the way his heavy balls lightly slapped your ass was heavenly and the taut muscles flexed on his spread thighs was probably enough to make someone cream in their pants.

the pinging had begun once again and you increased your pace each time a donation came through. he eventually was gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to thrust into you, hard and fast. your moans were already pornographically loud when you were at a slow pace, but now they filled the room with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“shit bunny, this cunt is so fuckin’ good. i can’t wait for you to make a mess on this dick.” you clenched down on him every time he spoke the filth that had gotten you off so many times before. your legs were beginning to tremble and your pussy was twitching in a way that told him you were close, right there even.

“fuck yes. cum on my cock.. ride that shit. show them how much of a dirty fuckin’ slut you are f’me.” his words coupled with his rough thrusts to punctuate the syllables sent you over the edge. your stomach felt white-hot as you creamed on him. he removed the hand from behind his head to spread your pussy lips and watch the glistening arousal flood his dick. the ring of your cum gathered on the base. that and your tits knocking together in his face made him slow himself to keep him from cumming too.

“hope y’got another one in ya. turn the fuck around and sit again.” you quickly got up and whined at the loss. katsuki growled at the sight of your hole already gaping for him.

you let out another whine of pleasure as you sat back on his cock again. your knees and shins were placed on both sides of his thighs and his arms were wrapped around the front of you to play with your tits as he started thrusting again.

he was rougher this time, removing one of his hands from your chest to move back down to your hip to keep you close to him. his feet were firmly planted in the carpet below you to keep up his pace without fault.

“play with your tits, sweets. show them how horny you are for daddy.”

“shit.. i love when daddy fills me up… fuck fuck fuck.” you brought your hands up to your chest to play with yourself and he brought his now-free hand to toy with your swollen clit. you loudly whimpered at the sensitivity when he was touching and fucking you at the same time.

“i feel you clenchin’ my shit. already gonna cum again? you really are a desperate slut for the camera.” he started slamming his hips into yours harder and you began to bounce at a pace that met his thrusts. he felt impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy squelched and gushed around him. he was now focused on your reflection in the screen. his eyes moved back and forth from the monitor to the real you. he loved being able to see your expressions whilst also being able to watch the way your peachy ass rippled and bounce as you met his rough thrusts.

“tell me.. fuck.. tell me how bad you want it.”

“daddy please I want it to badly. I need to cum and I need to be filled with yours.”

“oh, slutty bunny wants me to breed ‘er, that’s it, yeah?” you whimpered and nodded your head as he began to thrust even harder and deeper. hitting that special spot inside you that made your whole body feel like it was on fire. the crescendo of your moans and your pussy once again tightening on him told him you were almost over the edge, he was glad because he didn’t think he’d last much longer with the sight to behold in front of him.

after a few more rough thrusts and his cock dragging against your g-spot, you were once again coating the man in your release. squirting once again as he continued to ride you through your orgasm. your juices slid down his muscular thighs and onto the fabric below the both of you. you heard his growls get louder as he used your body to chase his own high. practically losing himself at the sight the clear liquid spewing from you.

“fuck bunny, y’gonna let me cum in you? fuck i’m gonna fill you up.”

a little ‘please’ was all you could get from your lips as your spent brain wasn’t thinking too clearly. he gripped your sore hips one last good time before he was spilling the contents from his balls into your overused hole.

“‘m cummin’.. fuck baby, god you feel so fuckin’ good when i’m flooding this pussy.” your body shivered as his words and the shallow thrusts he continued to pump into you. you felt impossibly empty when he slowed and lifted you off of him. that feeling soon being subdued by his thick, calloused finger tips collecting the cum that had leaked out and pushing it back into your cunt.

“know you’re fucked out, but bend over ‘n show them how pretty that pussy looks filled with my cum.” although tired, you gladly obeyed his request. standing up on wobbly legs to turn around and bend over like you’d done earlier, holding onto the edge of the lounge for stabilization.

“mmm, bet you guys wish this was yours stuffed in there, yeah?” you giggled and waved your ass back and forth as the pinging increased for a final time. katsuki grabbing your face and showing the audience how debauched and fucked out he had made you. you finished off the stream with a flirty ‘goodbye babies’ and a seductive wink before covering the camera with your hand and ending the stream.

you both watched the screen go black and light up again as the total revenue flashed across the screen. both of your eyes widened as you saw the number. you both expected into six fugures, you didn’t expect to be that well into six figures. it was more money made in a single stream than the two of you would made from a few pornos. the two of you decided the split the money equally as it made the most sense and was only fair.

the screen blackened again, this time the transcript of the comments lit up the screen. you decided to sit and read whilst the blond got up to redress.

“hey kats, they want me to peg you!” you say in front of the laptop, still naked as the day you were born minus the thigh-highs, and read through the comments. a lot of them complimenting the pair of you or offering you guys money for sex. sometimes you came across comments that made you audibly laugh, this being one of those moments.

“fat chance. most that’s been in my ass is a plug.”

“I could change that.” you wiggled a brow at him and he dramatically rolled his eyes. he stood in the corner of your room and you watched him tug a white compression shirt on.

“adventurous thing, arentcha?”

“adventurous is my middle name.”

“yeah, okay dumbass.” it was your turn to rolls your eyes as you went to your twitter to tweet about the success of the stream, definitely showing up the director that dared trash yours and bakugo’s names. after tweeting, you decided to scroll your feed a bit to see if anyone had said anything yet. if the money you guys make didn’t show the success of the stream, the slew of people tweeting about it sure did.

@better-luxe-next-time: made more in one stream with @.officialdynamight than that slimeball has made in his whole career <3

@.officialdynamight: wanna see my POV with @better-luxe-next-time? unlock the videos on my onlyfans @.dynamight.

@.alien.queen.pinky: wettest i’ve ever been from watching a stream. 3some? @better-luxe-next-time @.officialdynamight

@bigredriot: I couldn’t tell who I wanted more 😫

@chargeboltt: she could step on me and i’d say thank you!

@chakoraka i’d kill an elderly woman to be sandwiched between them.

@sticky-sero: not even gay but i’d suck his ween ngl

you smiled at the tweets your fellow stars had posted. it some sick, weird way it warmed your heart that they all had your backs and watched the stream to help you prove a point. you even noticed some of them donating their own money. the smile that grew on your face slowly drooped again once you saw another tweet posted 7 minutes ago from dynamight himself.

@.officialdynamight: 50 retweets and we’ll stream weekly. @better-luxe-next-time

“seriously, katsuki? 50 retweets?”

“i’ll take any excuse to get inside you. got the sweetest cunt i’ve ever fucked.” you took the bunny ears off and slid your stockings off your legs as he handed you his t-shirt. it fell right at your mid-thigh and swallowed your torso whole. “and trust me, i’ve fucked a lot.”

“me too, we’re in the same business, y’know,” you let out a light giggle at his exaggerated eye roll, “but yeah, best dick i’ve ever had.”

“so we can agree, one retweet?”

“sure, kats, one retweet.” his vermillion eyes darkened and his lips contorted into a cheshire cat-like smile as he opened his twitter app and turned the screen to face you. the tweet already have over 100 retweets and it’d only been up for 10 minutes.

“looks like you might wanna start getting comfy with me, bunny.”

part one.

[beloveds-embrace]

Heya Noon!! So recently I’ve been thinking nonstop about tf141 x special forces/venom! reader. Let me explain! Tf141 found the reader on a mission and the reader was an in progress experiment. Kinda like Hydra with Bucky if you like marvel. So they save the reader and they thought it was just going to be normal after that and somehow she gets added to the task force. And over the few months of bonding and missions they’ve had together the guys realized she would often talk to herself (to venom), eat much more than you could expect her body to be able to contain, etc. but pushed it off as nothing but when the guys get hurt on a mission the reader protects them and ends up letting venom come out. What do you think their reactions would be? Would they still like the reader? If you have time I love to see an imagine from your point of view with this idea!

Lots of love🫶

Enjoy!! <3

Maybe it’s routine extraction turned into an ambush. Trapped, surrounded, and outnumbered, and to top it all off Gaz is injured. All of them are, but his injury requires him to be pulled back to to take cover.

Your breaths came ragged, your heart pounding in you ears. The world slowed, each gunshot a distant echo. Then, you heard it- the familiar deep, guttural voice rumbling from within.

Let me help.

“No,” you hissed, eyes wide and wild. You felt it stirring, the dark entity that lived beneath her skin, the result of twisted experiments you barely survived. For months, you had kept it at bay, refusing to become a monster, to potentially hurt the ones who had saved you and given you your life back. But now…

Your gaze flicked to your team- yours- pinned down, bleeding, fighting for their lives. The choice was no longer yours.

Do it.

You closed your eyes, and when they reopened, they were no longer yours

Venom erupted from you body, a mass of writhing tendrils and razor-sharp fangs. You and Venom moved as one. Bullets bounced off your shifting form. Enemies screamed, weapons falling uselessly as they were lifted and tossed like ragdolls. Venom’s laughter echoed, a terrifying symphony of power and rage.

When the dust settled, the battlefield was silent. They stared, wide-eyed, weapons half-raised. Your body trembled, the monstrous form receding as you fell to your knees. Venom’s voice, now a whisper, coiled in your mind even as you begin to sob and heave.

You needed me.

You glanced at your team through teary eyes, fear and shame warring within you. Would they see you as an ally still- or a monster? John stepped forward first, his expression unreadable, and then he knelt down to drag you into his arms.

“I’m sorry- John, please, I’m so sorry. Don’t hate me, please-“

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “We don’t hate you. We don’t. But for now, we need to leave. Though… thank you.”

The others nodded, their trust tentative but present, still there and none of them looking at you like you were a monster. Johnny even came to hold you instead of Price, patting your back gently and mumbling about how ‘fucking sick ya looked, bonnie’. You exhaled, relief mingling with exhaustion and leaning your weight against him.

Today, and hopefully for far longer, you will not be hated or seen as a monster. They will not abandon you.

[ghostofhyuck]

His Car isn't Yours

He’s Mark Lee. He’s smart, handsome, a gentleman — everyone’s ideal boyfriend. He’s everything. Oh my god, girls would die to be in your spot. And yet, you felt uneasy as he took you on a date. 

Oh right. You remember. Mark Lee is not him. 

Word count: 2.5k 

Tags: Fluff, angst. Mentions of NCT Dream Members. Mentions of sexual innuendo (just a few!)

Song Inspiration: His Car isn’t Yours by Wendy

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“How about this?” you asked over the video call. It’s almost seven in the evening and you’re still in your bathrobe, raiding your closet while showing it to your best friend. You couldn’t help it. You’re sweating and nervous. 

“Did he mention where he’ll take you?” your best friend Donghyuck said over the phone. 

“It’s a surprise he said, he just said dress pretty — what does he mean by that!?” 

You heard Donghyuck’s hum for a minute. “Okay, ditch the pants and wear a nice dress and sandals.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver Hyuck,” you said to him before proceeding to find the baby blue summer dress that you rarely wear. It was adorned with white flowers, the skirt being just above your knee and hugging your figure perfectly. 

“Well of course! I couldn’t believe it!” Donghyuck squeals, you can see him jumping in his bed excitingly. “You’re going on a date with Mark, everyone wants him, you know that?”

Your smile faded when you heard your best friend’s comment. As the dress fit onto yours, you couldn’t help but to stare at the mirror. Suddenly, this idea was bad. 

“Yn, don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,” Donghyuck asked. 

“What?” you only laughed, trying to brush off Donghyuck’s words. “No, of course not! You’re crazy.” 

“Great, because this is the perfect opportunity for you to get over that jerk.”

Right. Donghyuck’s right. It’s time for you to get over him. It’s been a few months since you two broke up. It was a disaster and you remember crying in your best friend’s arms for a few hours until you passed out because you were too dehydrated. Donghyuck cursed him and you swore that that night Donghyuck swore all the curses that he could think of because of your ex-boyfriend.

It took you a while to pick up yourselves. Slumping yourself on your academics and studies just to get over him. But no matter how much you tried, there were nights that you cried and wondered, what went wrong with the two of you? You never attempted to move on from him. You’re still holding onto that small hope that maybe. Maybe. He’ll show up in your footsteps and ask for another chance. 

But he didn’t and instead, Mark Lee somehow waited for you outside the hallways of your building, asking you if you two can go out for some coffee. Schemingly, Donghyuck agreed on your behalf, convincing you that you should just try it. 

It was the first time you smiled in months. Mark was nice. He was easy to converse with, and he’s also good-looking to start with. You two enjoyed the cup of coffee, and it ended up with you asking what was his intention. 

“I thought I was being obvious,” he laughs. A shy smile formed on his lips. “I’ve liked you ever since yn.” 

You remember being caught off-guard with his sudden confession, you don’t know why but you feel your cheeks heating up because of it. Maybe, you were flustered by his sudden confession. You watch as Mark shyly looks away, and you don’t know why but a part of you wants to know where this will end. 

That’s where you are right now. Wearing your baby blue dress, doing some finishing touches on your makeup while you’re waiting for Mark to pick you up. You agreed to have a date with him, and for once, you wanted to not mop around because of your ex-boyfriend. 

“Oh wow, you look gorgeous,” Donghyuck compliments. “Hope you get dicked tonight.”

You laughed as you sprayed your perfume on you, “I’m not planning to.”

“That’s sad of you boo,” Donghyuck sticks out his tongue and as you put on your shoes, you hear Mark’s car parking in front of your place. 

“Fuck, okay I got to go,” you said, grabbing your phone to say goodbye to your friend. 

“Goodluck on your date! Tell me the deets tomorrow!” your best friend said one last time before hanging up. You only smile as you grab some few things and place them in your bag. As you went out of your place, you saw Mark leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone. 

You stop midway, remembering that it was Mark who’s picking you up, and not him. It’s Mark, who’s hair is dyed blonde, leaning against his Honda Civic which is a different model that your ex-boyfriend drives. 

You watch as Mark glances at you and does a double take, he puts his phone on his jean’s pocket as he approaches you with a smile. 

“Wow,” he breathes. “You look so beautiful.”

Right. You remembered. That tonight isn’t about him, it’s about you and Mark and the hopes that you may find someone better than your ex.

“Thank you,” you only said. “You look handsome too.” 

Mark lets out a chuckle, “should we get going?”

You only nod as Mark guides you towards his car, opening the car door for you which makes your heart flutter. The seat was comfortable and the interiors of the car looked interesting. Your eyes scanned the inside and noticed how it’s polished clean. Even the smell is nice and not those heavy air purifiers that pierces through your nostrils. 

Mark enters the car, and his hands trail towards the seat belt, placing yours first before his. 

“I’ll just put the music on shuffle, but if you want, you can connect your phone if you want to play any songs that you want,” he said, pressing play on the car’s stereo. 

“I love this song!” you said, humming along the song. 

Mark only smiles as he watches you dance lightly to the song, he revved the engine and started driving. He taps on the steering wheel as you continue to sing. He finds you cute, enticed by the lyrics of the song and even attempting to hit the high note. 

“Oh by the way, where are we going?” you asked.

“It’s a surprise,” he teased. 

“Any hint at least?” 

Mark hums for a moment, “it's outskirts of the town.”

You became quiet, wondering what he means by outskirts. It’s either on the hills where the grassfield is clean and a perfect place for a picnic. Donghyuck gossips to you that it's supposedly a perfect hideaway for hookups and sex. 

You glanced at Mark for a second and your heart started beating. There’s no way he’s going to bring you there. It’s too early! But a part of you thinks that Mark isn’t that type of guy who wants you for sex, so maybe it’ll be a wholesome picnic. 

Hopefully. 

But as your mind starts to panic, he turns left which is the complete opposite towards the side, your eyes widen. You know where this is going. 

“We’re here!” he said, parking his car in front of the restaurant. As you step outside, you can feel the wind gently sweeping your skirt. You glanced at the sign. It was neon green, blinking due to its weariness. It’s been years since you went here and a sense of nostalgia hit on you. 

“I can’t believe you brought me here,” you said with an amused tone. “I loved this place when I was a kid! I hope they still have their karaoke here.”

“I’m sure it’s still here,” Mark said. “Should we get inside?”

The interiors are still the same as when you were kids. The smell and the vibe, it’s all there! You see the karaoke on the diner’s corner and you can see that it’s still working, just waiting for a patron to drop a coin and pick a song number. 

You and Mark chose the seat on the corner of the restaurant. It has a couch instead of the usual chairs, that’s why it’s more comfortable for both of you. The restaurant wasn’t that crowded with people, but it was still bustling with noises. 

After the waitress wrote down your orders, your eyes couldn’t stop scanning the place. It is a memorable place for you. Your parents always bring you there on your birthdays or whenever you get good grades. You weren’t able to return to the restaurant ever since your parents moved to another country for work. You long forgotten about the restaurant too, that’s why it was a surprise that Mark brought you there. 

“How did you know about this place?” you asked. 

“This has been a popular restaurant ever since I was kid,” Mark explained. “I was craving their chicken and fries that’s why I brought you here.”

You laughed at his explanation but you saw his genuine side about it, “thanks. It’s been a long time since I went here.” 

Mark only smiles. “Well, I’m happy that you loved it.”

As your order arrived, you and Mark downed on the food while at the same time continued your conversation. You two recalled the memories you two had when you were kids. Even listing down the songs you used to sing at the karaoke. Mark was convinced that at some point, when you two were kids, you two met at the restaurant. 

Halfway through the slice of strawberry shortcake that you two ordered. You decided to be bold, standing up and approaching the karaoke. 

“Are you going to sing dear? The songbook is on the side,” the waitress said with a bright smile. 

You gave her a smile, “I hope my favourite song is still here.”

As you pressed the number, you were surprised that Madonna’s Crazy for You is still listed. You placed down the coin and the familiar tune began to fill the air. Applause from the customer began as you sang the lyrics.

You swayed along the song. You watch as the customers stood up and danced along with you. You turned around and saw Mark, smiling at you and even mouthing “wow” making you smirk as you winked at him. You continued to sing, feeling the rhythm, and then a bright idea popped into your mind. 

Slowly, you approached Mark, who at first was embarrassed, but after much convincing from the crowd, he stood up and danced along with you, earning cheers from everyone. As the song ends, you let out a small bow and were about to return to your seat when Mark pulled you. 

“Hey, sing with me on this one?” Mark said. You watch as he pressed some number and as soon as he dropped the coin, your heart shrunk.

You know this song. You know damn well this song. Because this is your song with him. The upbeat song of Starship’s Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now filled the room and you watched as Mark sang the first line. Fuck. He used to sing it with you, because he likes the song so much.

It quickly grasped into your mind that it was Mark who’s you’re singing with, you plastered a smile as you sang along the lyrics. In the eyes of the crowd, you two look like a couple. Two teenagers in love and having the best moment of their life, especially when Mark grabs your hand and twirls you before singing the bridge of the song. 

You managed to finish the song, and the crowd cheered, even shouting “Kiss!” from them. Mark tried to brush it off, and you only let out a bitter chuckle because of the awkward situation. 

After that whole singing session, you and Mark have called it a night. You were in a daze as you two exited the restaurant. You only snapped out of it when Mark held your hand and intertwined his fingers around it. 

“Did I startle you? Sorry,” he was about to let go when you squeezed it lightly.

“No, it’s okay, my energy was just low because of the karaoke,” you explained, smiling at him.

“I had fun,” Mark said with a sincere tone. “I’m really glad that we went there.”

“Well, thank your chicken cravings then,” you teased, making him laugh. 

As you two drive to your place. You two fell into a peaceful silence. You only watched as you passed by around the town. You couldn’t help but to lean on to the car window. 

Tonight was fun. Being with Mark was fun. But as you sit there in silence your heart couldn’t help but to yearn for him. It’s hard. You wanted to cry and to let out all of your emotions. You wanted to blame him, because right now, he’s occupying your mind when it should be Mark who’s sitting next to you. 

And as soon as Mark parks his car in front of your place, you couldn’t help but to stare at your apartment. 

“You okay?” Mark asked. 

That made you glance at him, “me? Of course, why?”

“You seem to be in very deep thoughts earlier,” Mark explained. “Wouldn’t mind telling me what it is?”

Mark is sweet. He was a gentleman, not to mention, a really popular guy in your university. Everyone wants him. Girls are lining up for him and would die to be in your place. And yet, you couldn’t find yourself lucky that he likes you. 

Because Mark is not him. No matter how nice, sweet, and good-looking Mark Lee is. He is not the one you love. And you hoped that this night may change it, but no. He’s still occupying your heart. 

“Listen Mark,” you breathe out. “You're sweet and caring, I had fun tonight but…” 

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to hurt him, you couldn’t bear to hurt Mark after you two just went out. It felt like a jerk move to do so. 

But a part of you wants to be frank with him too. 

“I just, I don’t think I’m not ready to be in a relationship,” you confessed. “If ever we’ll be together, I wanted to make sure that I can give myself to you but right now —”

“You haven’t moved on from Jeno, haven’t you?”

There it is. Mark mentioned his name and you can feel your heart beating nonstop. God, your ex-boyfriend had you wrapped around his fingers

“I’m sorry,” it was the only thing that you could say. 

“No, it’s okay yn,” Mark chuckles. “It’s my fault too, I pursued you too early.” 

“No, oh my god. It’s just —-” 

“It’s fine yn no worries,” Mark gives you a smile, making you feel more guilty. “But that doesn’t stop me from pursuing you, you know that? I’ll be waiting until you’re ready.” 

You could only let out a small smile, but in a split second you leaned onto him to give him a quick kiss on his cheeks. “Thank you Mark, I enjoyed our date tonight.” 

“I’m glad you did.”

You bid goodnight to Mark. you gave him a smile one last time before going inside your apartment, as soon as you close the door, you couldn’t help but to lean against the door as you hear his car’s engine slowly fade into the background. You can still feel the coldness of the ac, and the scent of the lavender purifier of Mark’s car lingered on you. 

But it felt different. Weird. Unfamiliar because you know that Mark’s car isn’t his. 

Pt. 2 Jeno’s POV see here.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Nine — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Roza’s arrival in Windhaven brings some home truths crashing down on Reader. She just needs a hug, someone to talk to, but it all goes very, very wrong…

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: None.

Chaos evades logic.

There is no rationality to be found here. No sense to be made of the ample feelings that begin to chew you up and spit you out.

All you know, as you lace your breeches up and correct yourself, is that you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“Are you decent?” Roza calls, her back still to you.

You tie the last lace. Clear your throat. “All good.”

The closest person you’ve ever had to a mother figure turns on the spot. She’s absolutely beautiful — fucking glowing — her swollen belly visible through her thick coat, and her eyes alight with a quality you’ve never seen before.

Rhysand really is the mirror image of her.

“I actually cannot believe I just witnessed that.” She grouses. “And just when I thought the morning sickness had finally come to an end, too. My poor, poor eyes.”

Cassian makes a noise. “Roz, that’s a bit dramatic—”

“You be quiet.” She points a finger at him. “Your mouth has done quite enough tonight, thank you very much.”

The two of them stare at each other — Cassian wanting to be a little shit and push his luck, and Roza wanting to…

Well, to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, probably.

But then Cassian cracks a grin, and he’s bounding over to the female like an excitable pup. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Watch your language.” Roza scorns, but she happily accepts the hug that Cass yanks her into. “Gods, you’ve grown even more.”

You…you are rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

You want to go over there, too. To embrace her. But…but just seeing Roza makes the previous couple of months come hammering down on you in an unwelcome downpour of unwanted realisations.

You think: Roza caught me fooling around with Cassian.

And then you think: Fucking hell, I fooled around with Cassian again.

And then you’re wondering how — how you’ve let the recent events of your life veer down such a beaten, broken path.

It’s like Roza’s appearance brings a clarity that has been very much absent as of late. She’s always been a figure of reason and wisdom, always stopped you from spiralling.

And now she’s here, you’re looking at Cassian — your damn friend — and wondering just how much damage you might have caused.

He’s mid-conversation with Roza when he seems to notice you staring at him. Roza notices, too.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says.

You open your mouth, unsure how you intend to respond. All that slips out is a rasped, “I’m just…so glad you’re here.”

Cassian snorts. “Tell that to your face.”

You can’t bring yourself to laugh at the jibe. And it would seem that Roza can’t, either. She’s studying you in that assessing way you’ve seen her wear a thousand times before — the one where the motherly instinct kicks in, and she’s sensing something is wrong. It seems to be a subconscious act, the way she slides her hand over her bump.

“So what are you doing back here, anyway?” Cassian asks her, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “I thought the High Lord wanted you to stay in Velaris for the pregnancy.”

“He does.” Roza says. “But then I found out Y/N had somehow ended up homeless and that he hadn’t bothered to help, so he and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” She eyes you again. “I’ve come to move you properly into the cottage — including retrieving your belongings from your father’s house. I will not have you freezing your ass off in this dump.”

Gods, you love her.

She’s so fierce, so passionate. This is a female who housed three lost, rowdy children under her roof and offered them the same amount of love as she felt for her biological son. This is a female who does what she believes is right and damns the consequences. This is a female who doesn’t hesitate — not for one second — to help somebody in need.

She’s the exact kind of female you want yourself to be. And she’s the only person you wish to see in that moment.

“Perfect.” Cassian chirps brightly. “I’ll help. Let’s go fetch Y/N’s stuff from the bastard’s house right now.”

He takes a step towards the door, but Roza is laying a hand on his arm. She doesn’t look away from you once. “Cassian, my darling, I love you endlessly. And so, I say this with the greatest of adoration — fuck off to the mead hall, or something, and leave Y/N and I to have some girl time alone.”

“What?” He squawks in outrage. “But you just got here.”

“And I promise you we’ll catch up properly later. But right now, Y/N and I need some time alone.”

“But—”

“Do you want to stay and discuss the ins and outs of childbirth?”

Instantly, he falters. The change of tune would be comical if you were actually capable of feeling anything but despair in that moment.

“You know what?” He cracks a grin. “The mead hall sounds great right about now.”

Roza chuckles. “I thought it might. I’m taking Y/N back to the cottage. I’ll come and fetch you when we’re done. And if you see Az or Rhys, be sure to tell them to stay away, too.”

Oh.

This is going to be a serious talk.

You can’t remember the last time Roza was so insistent about it just being the two of you.

Probably when you got your first ever cycle, and she held and soothed and bathed you through it.

Will she still be so tender when she hears of the full scope of the mess you’ve created for yourself? You’re not sure you’d deserve it.

“Go easy, Cass.” Roza warns. “Don’t get into any fights.”

“Pff. As if I would.” Your friend lands a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Roz.” He says, and then he’s bustling out of the door without a care in the world.

You stare after him. Wish you could be that carefree. It feels…it feels impossible.

Gods, you just want to fucking cry.

Roza can see that. She holds a hand out.

“Come, my little dove.” She says. “Let’s get you home.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It kind of feels like walking into the cottage for the very first time, all over again.

You remember that night like it happened only yesterday. Remember how the cold had felt as you’d followed Azriel through the snow. The noises of bickering coming  from behind the door.

Even at eleven, Az had always seemed so much taller than you. You’d noticed that as he’d strode ahead and led you inside.

Roza had been standing in the kitchen, and she’d turned to you with a curious expression. “Oh.” She’d chirped, with more warmth than you’d ever heard from your own kin. “What have we here, then?”

You, Azriel had explained to her, had been set upon by a group of males far older than you. Az had defended you, and then he’d invited you to share his dinner.

Roza had taken one look at the dirt packed beneath your fingernails and told you to thoroughly wash your hands before taking a seat. You’d done just that.

And it was at that very table that Rhysand had introduced himself.

“I’m Rhysand. My father is the High Lord.”

Roza had scolded him for showing off.

And it was after that that Cassian had eyed you with a wild, feral look and simply said, “I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat everyone.”

“Not at my dinner table, you don’t.” Roza had put a stop to that immediately. And then she’d placed a steaming pie in the centre of the table, and High Lords and arm wrestles were all but forgotten, and Azriel had been quiet and shy at your side, but dutifully offering you different foods before he took any for himself—

Standing at the threshold of the cottage, now…it’s like watching that entire scene play out before you. The ghosts of your younger, wayward selves feast greedily on a wholesome meal that lets you forget your harrowing experiences for a little while.

How things have changed.

You finally step in. Kick the door shut behind you. The smells and warmth of your sanctuary envelop you, and you know — you fucking know that you won’t be able to keep a lid on your tears for long.

“Don’t know how many times I’ve told those idiots to put the fire out before they leave the house.” Roza mutters, but she goes striding straight towards that burning fire and welcomes its warmth. “Although, I must admit, I’m a little impressed. I expected this place to be far messier in my absence than it is. Don’t tell me they’ve actually been cleaning—”

“Roza.” You cut in, your voice shaky, desperate. “About what you saw—”

She turns back to you. Says nothing as concerned, violet eyes sweep the length of your body. She’s letting you speak, but you don’t know what the fuck to say.

You open and close your mouth as though the act will make some sense of…any of this.

It doesn’t.

“I didn’t realise you and Cassian were…” Roza clears her throat. Pauses. “I just…what of Azriel, Y/N?”

You blink at her.

Roza’s very good at knowing things she hasn’t been told, but for her to know about you and Az when she’s been in Velaris this whole time, and when, as far as you’re aware, these things have been strictly kept between you and Azriel only—

“What?” You breathe.

“Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I always suspected that you and Az would be…something more. Your connection with him has always run a little deeper than with anyone else. That’s why I was so shocked when I found you…and Cass…”

Is she wrong?

No.

And fucking damn you for taking all these years to see it. Fucking damn you for only realising you wanted Azriel as more than just your friend when somebody else began to recognise his brilliance.

Fucking damn you for all of this, and damn Azriel, too, and damn everyone.

It all comes showering down on you in an instant, harsh and unwelcome.

You love Azriel. Not just in the way you love Rhysand and Cassian. You’re in love with his soul, his spirit. Who he is will always be tethered to who you are, even though he isn’t yours to cling onto. It’s been that way since you were old enough to harbour such feelings, and you’ve been burying it all these years, burying it under bad choices and regrettable actions, because all of that seemed easier to face, than…this. The fact that you were never able to control your heart, stop it from feeling such things, and now you feel them so intensely that it hurts.

Had your deal with Az ever really been about helping him, or had it been a selfish ruse under which you could have some small experience to remember him by when he inevitably gave his heart to somebody else?

Because you are just Y/N. You’ve always just been Y/N.

You are not Kaeda — Kaeda with the wings, and the strength, and the excellence.

Just Y/N. Just Y/N—

“Speak to me, my love.” Roza steps closer. “I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes blur with tears. Your legs buckle, and you’re bracing one hand on the back of the couch while the other flies up to cup over your mouth.

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” Your voice breaks.

“Speak to me.” Roza says again.

“This is all such a mess.”

“What is, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what—what to do!”

“You need to breathe.” She responds firmly. “Deep breaths. Now.”

You try. Gods, you try. But your chest is constricting, and the air won’t reach your lungs, and all you can hear on a constant loop inside your head is one, bellowing sentence.

Everything is irreversibly changed.

Roza closes the gap between you and cups your face. The touch is soft, but firm. She forces you to look at her, and her face is blurred by your tears, but you know she’s looking at you how she’s always looked at you — with love.

“Tell me what’s going on, and I can help you through it.” She pleads.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You sob back.

She yanks you close, arms wrapping around you. She’s held you like this through so, so much. This is no different.

But it feels different, in that it feels worse. Not only is it possible that your actions could change your relationships with both Cassian and Azriel, but also that they could change their relationship with each other, too — change the strong, steadfast dynamic between your three closest friends.

You tremble, clinging to Roza like you may just collapse. Your heartbeat gallops in your ears like rhythmic footfalls.

“Y/N—”

“It all turned into a total mess.” You choke out. “I was feeling things — I am feeling things — and then Azriel had Kaeda and I was jealous and stupid and I — I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have slept with Cassian.”

“You did what?”

Those three, outraged words are not spoken in Roza’s voice. The sudden interjection of Azriel’s is enough for your sobs to catch in your throat.

Every single inch of your body goes cold as you step back to look at him. Blink at him. Roza fights to keep hold of you.

Normally, he would have hurried over to embrace her. But he stays rooted to the last step of the staircase. He’s staring at you. Only you.

You’ve never seen him look so pale.

“Az.” Roza sighs softly. “We didn’t realise you were home.”

He doesn’t look away from you — not once — as he asks, “What did you just say?”

Roza inches towards him. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about this—”

“You fucked Cassian?”

Tears spill over, roll down your cheeks. Your voice doesn’t want to show itself as you croak out, “Az, I can explain.”

“You fucked Cassian?” He’s repeating it like…like he needs to. Like it won’t get into his head any other way. “You had sex with him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Around the time you and I were doing similar things?”

Roza’s head whips round to you in surprise. You’d failed to mention that bit. After a moment, she rights herself once more. “Azriel, you should let her speak.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Letting you speak is the last thing on his mind as he steps down, storming past the two of you. You reach out for him, but he’s jerking away, heading for the door.

“Azriel, please.” Your voice cracks. “Let me explain.”

“Explain that you fucked Cass? At the same time that I was sharing such…such huge things with you—”

“At the same time you were sharing them with Kaeda!”

He falls still, hand faltering on the doorknob, shoulders hunched.

And then he glances over his shoulder at you with an expression so bleak, you’d do anything, make a bargain with anyone, to wipe it from his face.

“Except that I’ve never touched Kaeda like that.” He says. “Not once. I couldn’t.”

Before you’re capable of summoning an answer, he’s yanking the door open and thundering out into the snow.

Shock pulses through you, ice-cold and harrowing. You blink, and blink and blink and blink, and you think Roza might be saying your name, but you can only choke out another sob that grates against your throat, and then your legs are moving forward, stumbling out of the door.

“Az, wait!” You cry, but he’s already striding far into the distance. “Please!”

You try to move, but it’s like the snow is binding your ankles, grounding you firmly to the spot. You sob. Try to move. Fall. Get up. It’s cold and wet. You’re hurting. Everything’s hurting.

And somebody’s yelling — yelling at you.

“Hey!” You know the voice. It’s a voice you don’t like. But you can’t put a face to it until its owner is stopping in front of you, sneering at you. Lord Devlon. “What did I tell you about staying away from these parts, girl?”

You’re incapable of answering him. You’re not even looking at him. You just stare and stare in the direction that Az disappeared in, fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m talking to you.” Devlon grabs your chin between his fingers, hard. “Insolent female—”

“Remove your hand from her face at once.”

He blinks at the sight of Roza stepping out of the cottage. Clearly, he had no clue she’d returned. And even he won’t speak out against the High Lord’s pregnant mate.

He drops his hand immediately.

Roza steps up to your side and narrows her gorgeous eyes at him. Her hand sits on her swollen belly. “Look at you, Lord Devlon — following orders like a good dog. Now, go on. Fuck off.”

There’s a slight twitch of a muscle as he clenches his jaw. He hates every second of it, but he obediently turns away from you.

“Oh — Lord Devlon?” Roza calls after him.

He stops. Turns. “Yes, lady?”

“I decide who can and cannot live in my house.” She stares him down. “That call is mine and mine alone. And if I hear of you giving Y/N any more trouble? I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

She turns her back to him with utter dismissal. If you weren’t so devastated, you might laugh at his stunned expression.

But Roza sees the pain in your eyes, and she pulls you into her arms.

“Come, my love.” She murmurs  softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

[astonmartingf]

VOODOO DOLL ; LH44

lewis hamilton x mercedes driver!reader

. . . hamilton is a penchant for opposing teammates, and after the previous one he somehow got stuck with another, but after years of dominance new emotions develop between the two.

amgf i am a sucker for yearning and fluff and this is exactly that, lewis the man that you are... also if the format is different from previous posts it's because i'm testing out formats

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2025]

“You called us for this?” Alonso raised his brows looking pitifully at you sharing the same expression as Nico from the left side. You groan in your palms, hiding your face from the two men.

“This is a big deal okay. Why are you invalidating my feelings?” Mumbling under your breath, you reason out hoping for a sliver of understanding. It’s been so long since you bottled your feelings, and as much as you hate to admit it, you might start-

“No one is invalidating your feelings other than yourself amor, otherwise why would you call us to convince you that you actually like-”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up will you, it’s like you want the whole world that I like…” You turn around, checking the surroundings. “Lewis.”

Nico pressed his lip into a thin, a short sigh leaving his mouth, “You’re in denial and in love.”

You shot Nico an incredulous look, a scoff escaping your lips, “I am not in love. Alo, tell him.”

The older Spaniard grimaced, shaking his head. “At this point, you may as well be- four years? He’s already moved to Ferrari for God’s sake and you have yet to make a move.”

You groan once more, reminding yourself of the signs and signals you missed or accidentally dropped towards Lewis. “I have made a few moves…” Your voice thinning as you feel two pairs of eyes staring right at you.

“And I’m embarrassed to say that they also flew over Lewis’ head. So no, don’t ask me what I said, or did- just ignore what I said.” You rest your head down on the table, sad and moping.

Nico laughs at you, “Look at the state of you, hung over a boy.”

“He’s not just any boy Nico, gosh you’re acting like you moved on quickly from him- this is Lewis we’re talking about. Heck that was a semi-platonic relationship you had going on there, how am I supposed to cope with actually knowing that I can’t be in a romantic relationship with him?”

A gasp left your lips, hands shaking as your cover over them. Avoiding Nico’s gaze who was still laughing at you, despite your jab at his relationship with Nico and Alonso who took a sip from his cup of tea.

“So you admit it…”

Alonso broke the silence leaving you nodding to yourself.

“I actually- Fuck.”

[2023]

Lewis sits in silence, watching Nico squint his eyes from the other side of the table. “When was this?”

Gulping, Lewis didn’t think this far. He was ranting first, and then eventually spilling in some white lies in between before Nico filled in and connected the dots. He should’ve known Nico would catch on- Lewis is being too obvious. At least that’s what he thinks.

Sighing, Lewis mulled over his thoughts gathering his words before speaking it out into existence. The three words he’s been replaying over his head for the last two years- When did things get complicated?

“Two years ago? I thought about it far longer than I’ll admit. But I’ve recently come into terms with it…” Lewis nods his head, sitting in silence with Nico.

“And what happened? What’s different?”

Smiling to himself at the thought of you, Lewis goes through all the times you’ve managed to tug the tiniest of his heartstrings causing him to malfunction like the current state of their engine. It was pitiful, not just the team, but the state of his heart.

“I don’t even understand… Which makes me even more furious! How could she do that to me? I think about her all the time, she’s not even racing anymore. She’s nowhere near me, yet she’s all I think about, it’s driving me insane. And don’t get me started on whenever she’s actually on the paddock- I see her what? Once a month, I go to the F1 Academy races to get a glimpse of her. I'm such a loser. And her face! How could I not stop by and greet her, she’s always enthusiastic whenever I’m there- Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty good company, and we are friends but God I wish she’d take in the signs I’m putting down. I like YN- too much at this point, I can’t believe it. And you! You’re laughing at my misery.”

Lewis raises his head, far too into his thoughts only realizing that Nico has been laughing at him for the past minute. His back flushed into the seat, legs crossed with arms resting on the table.

“At least one of us is enjoying this, because I’m a suffering loser, who can’t get a grip. She’s actually doing things to my mind. I’m acting crazy because of her.”

Nico bursts into laughter, “You’re- you have a lot to say about YN.”

Lewis scoffs, giving his friend a pointed look, “That’s all you have to say? Wow, I miss talking to you, but this- this is a personal attack towards me.”

Shaking his head, Nico wheezes at Lewis, “No, no, no… Think about it- look at you. It’s just funny to me, I remember when you first talked about her. You said, and I quote, “I will never like her as a teammate.” and you also compared her to me. Look at you now. I think it’s funny.”

Lewis shakes his head, disappointed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”

“No- you’re not taking all that back. Go on- tell me more.”

Lewis raises his brows suspiciously, “What? So you can tease me?”

Nico raises his hands in surrender, “Hey if not me who else would listen to you talk on and on about YN?”

“I know Seb would listen to me without judgment, and maybe Charles…” Lewis lists the few people in and out the grid who are aware about his feelings towards YN.

Nico raises his brows laughing to himself, “Oh Lewis, you truly are living in your own bubble- you’re too good for yourself. Guess how I know what you’ve been talking to Seb about? Right, he calls me to check on you.”

Lewis pales at the realization, how Nico is somehow always available, how he calls on the right time.

“And Charles, who calls Seb, who calls me. Right Lewis, there’s three of us- and you’ll always end up with me if you don’t get your act right.”

lewishamilton

liked by nicorosberg, charles_leclerc, and 21,582,953 others

lewishamilton me when my crush finally noticed me...

view 1,648,592 comments...

user1 EXCUSE NE? WHAT HAPPENED TO HELLO AND HI?

user2 am i seeing this right?

user3 the power of yn

user4 why would you assume it's yn?

user5 i mean who else could get lewis to post like this?

user6 bro got 21 million people watching this confession

nicorosberg this is what you got from our conversation two years ago? embarrassing, even i can do better than this

sebastianvettel5 he's trying, leave him be

charles_leclerc is this what we've been waiting for the last four years? the bar is actually low

user7 what do you mean 4 years?

user8 HELP, they're actually implying that this is for YN

user9 there goes the lewyn fans going crazy it could be anyone 🙄

user10 can't a girl have their fun, jeez leave people alone

user11 it's embarrasing

user12 they're actually eating lewis up with this

nicorosberg this is your plan?

lewishamilton yeah, it's working is it not?

nicorosberg i don't think so man

charles_leclerc is she even on instagram?

lewishamilton ...

sebastianvettel5 for someone who has a crush on this person for the last 4 years i might add this is actually embarrassing behavior

user13 what is happening?

user14 i love this too much what the heck

user15 i know they're grilling him in the messages

user16 another one for the history books 😤✍️🔥🔥🔥

user17 it's blow after blow for hamilton

user18 he's a loser in love actually, does it make you stupid?

lewishamilton i don't care if i look stupid i want her to see this

amgf ahahahahaha the end! uhm... enjoy 👍 this actually had me giggling and shit wtf, maybe it's lewis maybe it's the fluff but /sighs/ the lore i can add to this fic... just you wait 😤