#If you get through this... I'm going to be so impressed

[bunnys-kisses]

viva las vegas

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, team principal au, tp!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), massages, vaginal fingering, intimacy & affection, doggy style

a/n: happy las vegas gp weekend!

max remembered vegas not-so kindly. or rather he remembered the hangovers of las vegas not-so kindly. it was where things heated up depending on a driver's standing. for many years max simply smiled and waved through another race, he always kept a heavy margin between him and other drivers in the points department.

plus he had to give it to the americans, they really knew how to make their races quite the spectacle. and las vegas was no different than miami at the start of the season and austin only a little while earlier. even now as a team principal, he enjoyed the occasional cigarette on a balcony of a hotel room. except this year his head was flooded with less technical information and more the sight of his beloved star driver.

you.

you huffed with your arms crossed after media day. you wore a pout so prettily, it was real princess behavior. and where you were standing right now, you were on your rightful throne at the top of the leader board.

"i don't get why we have to do these last three races. i have this in the bag, i am over a hundred points ahead of the next driver." you pointed in a general direction as you complained to your boss, "this is stupid, give me the wdc and we can all go home."

you were tired. of course you were, he was tired too. the entire team was tired. hell, everyone from top to bottom was tired.

max put his hands on his hips. he tilted his head to the side and exhaled, "treasure." he was a little sympathetic. he remembered being ragged by mid-october, the fact you were only falling apart at the last few races was impressive, "i know, it feels like the victory is being dragged on. that we are just wasting time." he reached out for you and cupped your face with such affection, "but, think about how much you could make that margin grow.' he had both hands on your face. you were in private so he could be a little closer.

you looked up at him with such sad eyes, "it feels anti-climatic."

max smiled, "that's the price you pay you when you're just leagues ahead of them. if you don't race for the points this weekend. then race for home, race for your family... and race for me." his smile grew, "i want to watch the shock on mclaren's face when they see what they missed out on." he chuckled lightly, "the offers you would get from everyone."

you said, "don't think i'm trying to leave verstappen racing." you pouted a little more.

max felt something tug in his chest but he kept his smile, it was endearing to hear those words. that you weren't going to up and leave him. even if your contract was three years, teams had lawyers to the teeth that could easily wrangle you into their grasp. but you had no interest in that. he kissed your forehead, "how about you come to my hotel room tonight, i'll help you relax. make the weekend a little more fun."

it wasn't burdensome to go to max's room. it was often right beside yours. even if the rest of the team were on the other side of the floor. you nodded and let max kiss you in the privacy of the little corner you found yourself in.

max watched you walk through his hotel room, in nothing but an over-sized garishly pink dolly parton shirt. you were bent over at the bar fridge to take a healthy shot of gin and let the shiver run through you. he chuckled into his drink and said, "let's get you a glass for that, treasure." before he got up from the couch, "oh better yet, let's take it easy on the alcohol. you're driving tomorrow." then crossed the room to take the bottle from your hand. he dipped his nose into the back of your neck and said, "how about we find other ways to relax tonight. something that won't kill you come morning"

you looked over at him and frowned, "i could not race tomorrow and i'd still win it all" and leaned into max's touch as he took you by the chin. you turned to look at him fully and crossed your arms.

"i know, being on top does get boring. but why don't i help. after all, that is my job." he held you in his arms and admired you the way someone would admire a beautiful piece of art. you were inclined to melt into his touch. uncrossed your arms and hugged him when your head against his chest.

"i wish there was more a chase for this victory." you huffed. the perfect driver, the perfect car, the perfect team and the perfect boss. it was all to easy.

he chuckled and kissed you, "please, don't get hung up on that. think about what it would mean to have a woman have such a clear victory." he held you, "no splitting hairs with your victory. think about what you could do." he smiled at you.

you held onto the front of his t-shirt and sighed, "i know, i know. first woman and all, but... i wish there was more of a fight."

max smiled, he knew the feeling well as he tenderly held you. he kissed your forehead lovingly before he said, "why don't we forget about that. and no more alcohol." then led you to the grand bedroom of the room. he sat on the bed and admired you.

in the over sized shirt and cotton panties. nothing special, but max ate up every last bit of it. the idea that he got the see you like this. he knew that men thirsted over you. fans that couldn't get it through their head that you'd never be with them.

you were just voted the more eligible bachelor(ette) of formula one. max got a kick out of seeing that when he read in on the way to the track. single, huh? that was news to him. not while you were tangled up in max's love like a spiderweb.

"do you want it off, sir?" you asked as you played with the hem. he had to admit, but up close, he sort of liked the t-shirt. the pink looked good on you. but he liked what was under it even more. men could thirst all they want, but none of them could have you.

not while max was still breathing. he pressed his face up against your middle, he sighed, "yeah, take it off. i want to see everything." everything that belongs to me. the unspoken words. he helped you get the shirt off.

he admired your body, dressed in cotton panties and a sports bra with thick straps. he licked his lips as he went back to kissing your stomach before you ended up on the bed next to him. you helped him out of his clothes just as he did for you. his lips found your heated skin and you arched your back a little at the feeling. it excited you.

"please, sir." you said as his large hands roamed your body, it left you feeling excited all over and touched you. you felt like heaven under his palms you moaned into another heated kiss and let him touch you as he so desired.

"you're perfect for me." he said as he kissed your neck, "perfect in ways i can't even put words to. you remind me of such beauty that it would be a crime for me to deny myself your warmth." he looked at you with those blue eyes, they read so much as he held you tightly, "that's why i want you to win, win, win. when they doubted you, i never did. and i'll continue to never doubt you. i want them to wipe those grins off their faces and see what you are a threat on the track."

you felt your heart flutter as you said, "oh max." before you pulled him into another hot kiss. when he pulled away, he got you onto your back and admired the strength in your back. he licked his lips and you could feel his hot gaze.

"quite the beauty." he said softly before he started to put those strong hands to work. you moaned into the covers and arched your back when he rubbed the skin. he groaned a little bit, his cock twitched at full attention as he massaged your body, "but you need to relax. i know, i want you at your best. but you can't be so wound up. it'll only make you a worse driver." he leaned into your and whispered in your ears, "i know you want to defeat them, make them whimper." his voice hot against your ear.

you whined, "please, max. sir!" you arched your back a little bit, or at least tried to. but he kept you pinned to the bed and continued to rub at your skin.

"i'd do anything to make you win." he said quietly, "i know you're my champion." he moved down your back and you whimpered when he hit spots that made your eyes roll back a little. you looked cute squirming like that. under him beautifully.'

you gasped when he eventually slipped two fingers inside of your soaked pussy and thrusted them slowly as he held you by the small of your back onto the bed. you gasped and arched your back with sexual want as he fingered you. you buried your face into the covers and whined, "max!"

it was music to his ears, he loved it. he loved you. you didn't know how many rules max had to bend for you. he was painfully committed to you, he adored you in ways that he could never say with words. you whined a little bit as he fingered you and he felt the heat in his belly as he played with your pussy.

"there we go. nice and relaxed, perfect for the upcoming race. i know you'll be a good girl for me. right? you'll race perfectly and then we'll come back to this hotel room with more points under your belt and i'll fuck you right up against the window. let all of las vegas see their weekend's star." his voice was filthy, tinged with a heated want. his cock was painfully hard.

he fingered you for a little while long before he pulled out the digits and licked the wetness off of them. but you weren't going to go without for long, not on max's watch. soon he was behind you, with your hips raised as he sank his cock into you.

the future champion felt good around his cock, beautiful in a way that he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. you felt like heaven as he started to rock his hips against you.

he knew you were the best, you were always the best. almost a perfect season, except for a few hiccups here and there. but, those were all ironed out. now he had big hopes for your future racing. racing with his team. he wanted to see you in the lion logo for years to come. and when your eventual retirement came, you'd be working alongside him as his wife. even carrying his last name couldn't keep you away from the track and max would be a fool to force you away from it (except for maybe nine months). he continued to move against you, he watched your ass bounce from his movements as he fucked you.

"shit, max." you whined. you wanted to win so badly, you wanted to be the world champion. you wanted to stick it in the faces of those who doubted you. other drivers, other teams, even your own father. who would have preferred you married a driver rather than be on. but max saw the future in your eyes, you'd be the world champion. and you believed in max. even when he was fucking you with a feverish pace that left you seeing stars and panting into the covers.

max kissed your back as he moved against you. he felt the heat through his body as he worked his cock inside of you. he felt the swell of affection towards you, he felt the heat course through his body. he needed you deeply, he needed you in ways that he never needed another.

"you're insatiable." you sighed as you felt yourself get fucked further into the bed. you gasped a little deeper into the covers as the two of you moved together. you felt the hammering in your chest.

"you feel amazing. i can't help myself." max groaned as he battered your sweet pussy with an insatiable want. he couldn't help himself, that was the god's honest truth. he yearned for you in deeper ways, he wanted to be connected to you in every way he could.

"please, max. i can't get enough of this. you feel so good, you know how to make me good." you groaned through the heat through your body. you pleasure coursed through your body, this was amazing. it was always amazing to be with him. especially when max combed his fingers through your hair and he continued to move against you with a heated want.

"you feel amazing in return, beautiful. my treasure. something i got out of the rough, shined you to your full potential." he hissed through a tense jaw as he continued to fuck you. you moved against him quickly and it made him gasp for more.

max licked his dry lips. the pleasure coursed through his body, it was a throb in his head as he thrusted up against you. he tensed up for a moment when he felt the heat only grow in his core. he really couldn't help himself. he knew that this wasn't exactly the sanest thing to do, fuck a his driver. but when a figure like yours and a winning streak that left him hot and bothered. it would a crime not to claim you as his. you wore his hickies under your collar and his logo over your heart. you were undeniable. you made racing fun for him.

he kissed you back once more, his pace started to stagger. the heat continued to fuel his body. he could hear your heated pants as you felt close to your orgasm. he held onto you tightly and fucked you through a powerful climax.

"i don't want anyone else." you panted in the heat of pleasure. you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed, your hands curled in the sheets as you muttered curses under your breath in your mother tongue.

max continued his heavy thrusts and came inside of you. he slowed his pace to a stop and kissed your back. he whispered sweet nothings against you before he pulled out slowly. you both laid out beside one another and he pulled you into his grasp.

he kissed your heated cheeks and sighed contently against your skin, "there, ready for the weekend?" he asked.

you pulled away to look at his flushed expression. blissed out from sexual heat, you gave him a small smile as you said, "well, if you keep the orgasms coming. i'll be more than happy to widen the points gap." then yelped when he got you onto your back. his heavy kisses soon trailed down heated skin.

you decided right then and there that you got very lucky in vegas.

-

a few weeks later in abu dhabi, you hoisted your final trophy of the season over your head. you were damn near tears as you claimed another victory. like you did in las vegas, then qatar and finally abu dhabi. max felt tears in his eyes as if he was winning the victory too.

you became the best, just like max promised. his driver, his star, his champion.... his future wife. <3

[archangeldyke-all]

wonder how many times reader has had to take super mario privileges away from sev isha and jinx bc they WILL break all of the living room furniture when a game gets too heated

AHAHHAHAHA this is so funny

men and minors dni

sevika's not allowed to play any first person shooter games. she's so fucking horrible at aiming, she's always losing. it stresses her out way too much, and by the time she's shot down she's yelling at the television.

isha had to come get you once, an annoyed huff leaving her lips as she signed. can you take big mama away? i want win a round.

after coaxing your wife away from the living room, giving isha and jinx the opportunity to win without carrying her the whole game, you inform sevika of her situation.

"you aren't allowed to play fortnite anymore." you say, giggling as you guys make out in the kitchen.

"what? why not?"

"you slow the girls down too much, they don't wanna make you feel bad by telling you."

"oh, but you'll just go right ahead and bruise my ego?" she asks with a pout. you grin.

"i'm your wife. that's part of my job, baby."

sevika groans and leans in to kiss you again.

isha will rage about mario cart.

you woke up one early morning to blood curdling screams ringing through the house. you grabbed the bat you keep by your bedside and sprinted out into the living room, ready to fight off whatever's making isha scream so loud.

but the big threat wasn't a person or creature-- it was a blue shell sevika launched at isha from her spot in the 12th place.

isha was blown off the course and finished in 8th, rather than 1st-- and by the time you got to the scene, isha was already flinging pillows at sevika and groaning.

jinx is able to calm her down after a while... but after that there's an unspoken rule in the house that isha's always the winner of every round of mario cart. even if it means you have to sabotage yourself and drive off the track.

jinx is pretty chill with most games-- she gets so into them she gets kinda quiet with her focus-- but you've had to rip her away from her ipad several times over her raging about dress to impress on roblox.

"these stupid little fucks don't know anything about fashion!". "'a torn up circus tent'?-- i'm gonna fucking dox you bitch!", "i'm the only one who wore all black for the goth theme how did i not fucking place!?"

"jinx, kiddo, i think maybe you should give the game a rest." you suggest softly.

"I HATE THESE DUMBASS LITTLE KIDS!" she cries.

taglist!

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@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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[imtherain]

Smeared Lipstick

Still on my Logan nonsense (thank god) and had a round of Patch!Logan feels. I know nothing about him other than what I saw in Deadpool and Wolverine, so sorry if I messed him up somehow.

This is for @likedovesinthewnd because she's the one who told me I should write it lol

Also shout out to @bpmiranda for posting the best/nastiest smut fics that inspired me to go ham and not hold back for once. If you need some more Logan, read mine first but she's got a lot more!

Warnings: Casino, basically pure smut with only a sprinkle of plot, oral (male receiving), some light conartistry, mutant reader, bathroom smut, fingering (both receiving because I'm a feminist lol), sugar daddy but only kinda, Patch!Logan, a touch of 'getting caught', and probably some other stuff. Let me know if I missed anything important.

Word Count: 3473 (don't look at me)

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

“Hit me,” 

The dealer passed Logan another card and he concealed his joy easily. He’d hit 20 for the third time at this table. Lady Luck always on his side.

“You win again, sir,” The dealer said, pushing the new stack chips across the table to him.

“I’m afraid it’s time we close this table, sir,” Your voice always soothed something in him. You’d been working at this particular casino for a few months, and so, Logan always found himself at your tables. No one suspected the truth of why you both were there.

“Pity, I was doing so well,” Logan looked up at you with his one good eye, drinking in the way your glittery red dress hugged every single one of your edges just right. How your hair was done up with sparkly bits to match the shine on your dress. How your lipstick was the exact shade of red as your dress.

You looked good enough to eat, if he were being honest.

“I’m sure I can find you somewhere else to play,” You smile, half customer service, half something naughty.  Logan put the cigar he’d been chewing on away into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d find himself with something better to put in his mouth shortly.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Logan stood, leaving his chips all on the table. “Cash those into my account,” This was directed at the dealer who was just cleaning up his station.

“Please, Mr. Locken,” You urged the dealer. He was a clever young man, one of your best dealers. He’d caught three different cheaters in his time at the casino, and you were impressed that he was so good at catching them. Even the team upstairs, who’s entire job it was to catch cheating, had missed one of the three Locken had spotted.

“Of course, Miss Y/N,” Locken replied, gathering Logan’s chips.

“Thank you,” You said, taking Logan’s arm and leading him away. 

Logan had been staring at the skin exposed that showed over the slinky material of your dress. You knew poor Locken likely knew exactly what you and Mr. Logan were about to get up to. Locken didn’t really want to know, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Mr. Logan, the high roller with an eye patch, were an item. Most of the staff knew, and the rest likely suspected.

But Mr. Logan, being a high roller, got away with all kinds of things. Fucking the floor manager was hardly a big deal or a surprise at that point.

“And where are you taking me, Miss Y/N,” Logan mocked Locken’s tone and you smacked his chest with one hand. “As I recall, there aren’t any tables this way, and the hotel is the other direction too,” 

“I was thinking you needed a little more luck,” You told him. “I heard that another big fish was headed in to drop some cash, and he’s luckier than most who walk through the door.” There was something about you that no one in the building, other than Logan, knew about you… and that was that you were a mutant who could control a person’s luck. You could also see how lucky someone was, just by touching them. It came in all kinds of handy working in a casino, and extra handy where Logan was involved. The two of you having a sort of arrangement in regards to luck.

“What did you have in mind for me?” Logan mused as you led him down another hallway and into a single stall bathroom. It was one of the large single stall bathrooms, where several people could use the two sinks and spacious counter during a wedding or other event, usually to get ready. This particular bathroom was out of the way of the main space though, less likely to get interrupted.

“Lock the door,” You told him with a saucy smirk. 

You and Logan had met originally in a different casino, and he’d figured out that his string of bad luck had been tied to you. He thought, originally, that it was because he’d gotten so distracted by you that he’d lost his edge. You knew it was because you’d turned all his luck to bad and all your own luck to good, hoping to clean house well enough to eat for the next month.

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan turned to lock the door and when he turned back, you were sitting on the counter, skirt hiked up to your knees. Logan took a deep breath through his nose that quickly dissolved into a growl of pleasure as he smelled your arousal. “Never will get over how good you smell, honey,” He stepped between your thighs and tipped your chin up so that you were looking at him.

“Only for you baby,” You purred back, leaning up so your breath brushed his lips sensually.

“No kissing,” Logan reminded you, and you pouted, but you knew the deal. After he’d found you out as a mutant, you’d both struck a deal. You would give him better luck, and he'd take good care of you, effectively becoming your sugar daddy. Only, if you called him ‘daddy’ he’d bend you over his knee, so you saved that for special occasions. 

“Please?” You begged, knowing that was the only line left in the sand between you. You’d done everything else, had sex in every direction you could think of. But no kissing. Never kissing.

You didn’t like it, but it was easy enough to complain around.

“You know the rules,” Logan growled softly. He ran his tongue along the exposed skin at your throat and you moaned. He chuckled, feeling your vibrations against his tongue.

“Rules are made to be broken, I thought?” You pressed as he stepped forward to bump the hardness in his pants against you. Your hips moved against him as if there was ever any question to what was going on between you.

“I can walk away,” Logan warned and you whined, but nodded to tell him you’d stop asking. “Good girl,” 

“Wait,” You said, suddenly having a sordid idea. Logan rocked backwards on his heel far enough to peer questioningly into your face. “Let me take care of you this time,” 

“You wanna take care of me?” Logan asked skeptically. You reached down to palm him through his slacks. His eye fluttered closed at the contact and he had to brace himself on the counter on either side of you.

“Please, baby? Since you won’t let me kiss you, at least let me taste you?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he knew he was a sucker for giving in to you anytime you did that. Hell, he’d kill a man no questions asked, if you batted your lashes at him.

“Get to it then,” He moved back only far enough to let you slide off the counter and to your knees. You made short work of undoing his belt and pants. You pulled his slacks and boxers down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was already rock hard and leaking for you when you cooed happily and kitten licked the warm tip of him.

He had to grip the counter again to remain in control of himself. You smirked as you did it again, tasting the salty tang of his precum before you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Logan grunted, trying his best not to slam his dick straight down your throat. He knew you could take it, but he wanted to let you get there on your own.

“Want me to stop?” You pause only long enough to ask before you licked a long stripe up the underside of him, tracing the thick vein there from balls to tip.

“Don’t you dare,” Logan pants, cursing again when you go back to the small licks along the very tip of his cock. You always seemed to know exactly how to drive him out of his mind. Maybe that was why he’d give you anything you wanted. Diamonds, jewelry, gold, silver, hotel rooms, a car if you asked for it… He’d give you anything his money could buy. 

Anything but the heart he was pretty sure you weren’t even aware you’d already stolen.

You pressed a small kiss to his angry red tip before sticking out your tongue and sliding him into the warmth of your mouth.

Logan cursed again, his hips bucking once before he could stop himself. You adjusted your knees on the hard tile floor, loosened your jaw, and slid your hands lovingly around his thighs.

With your eyes fluttering softly and the end of his dick in your mouth, Logan was surprised he didn’t cum right there on your tongue.

You looked up at him and gave a slight nod, telling him you were ready for him to take control if he wanted it. Logan felt his heart rate spike as the animal in him begged to claim you. If he wasn’t careful he’d bury his fist in your hair and throat fuck you until you couldn’t speak. But he’d promised to be careful when you were at work, because you needed to look nice for the casino.

When Logan didn’t immediately take over, you leaned forward, taking more and more of him into your mouth, slowly, until he just barely touched the back of your throat. Your throat constricted on a gag and the feeling of your throat closing was all it took for the animal inside him to break free.

Logan’s strong hand cradled the back of your head, trying to avoid pulling out the glittery baubles you’d put there this morning before he’d driven you to work. You leaned back into his palm, trying to ease the sensation in your throat, and you got relief for about two beats before that same careful hand pulled you back along him until your nose was pressed flush with the rough hair at his base.

You knew it was his turn to have his fun now, and you couldn’t help but grin for a moment before you remembered how hard it was to breathe around the girth of his cock.

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs as you focused on breathing while he jerked his hips. The drag of his cock along your tongue made heat pool in your stomach as he abused your throat over and over again.

Meanwhile, Logan was making the most guttural noises while he used your throat. His grunting and groaning echoing in the empty bathroom, occasionally punctuated by a soft curse or two when your throat squeezed him just right. All paired with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

But as much as you’d love to let him stay there in your mouth until he came, you needed a break. You reached up and tapped on his stomach, your agreed sign that you needed air. 

Instantly, Logan pulled back and caught your eyes with his one good one.

“You alright?” He asked and you nodded with a slight cough.

“Just needed to catch my breath,” You admitted. “I’m out of practice,” 

“I know one way to fix that,” Logan said with a cheeky grin.

“Give me five more seconds,” You said, adjusting on your knees again. You took a second to pull his slacks down to his knees. You lean in and give some attention to each of his beefy thighs, kissing the strong muscles and nibbling the soft flesh.

“Don’t tease me,” Logan grumbled, his hand coming back to your head. “Finish what you started,” 

“Yes, sir,” You batted your lashes up at him and his cock twitched next to your face. You took another moment to lick the side of him, rubbing his length against your face, showcasing just how long he was compared to your head. It was a wonder you could fit him all down your throat.

You kissed the side of his dick a few times, preparing you both for another round, and with one last kitten lick to his slit, his dick slid back into your throat.

The second time was always easier for you, and you’re always happy to help when it means he would let out those grunting noises you love so much.

And you knew exactly what would make him whine for you too.

You slid your hands up and around the back of his thighs until you could grip both of his taught buttcheeks in your hand. This distracted him enough from his movements that you were able to swallow around his tip and make him groan again. You bobbed your head as you kneaded his flesh and he got lost in the sensation the exact same way you did when he was face down between your legs. And just like he always did, you carefully slid a finger into his waiting hole.

The noise Logan makes is something you wished you could bottle up for a rainy day. It’s somewhere near a whine and too gravelly to be a whimper. You withdraw only long enough to add some moisture to your digits before working yourself back into him, stroking at that spot deep inside that makes his thighs tense and his knees shake.

Having discovered how stroking him like this made him feel, you understood why he liked to finger-fuck you so much. Making him experience such pleasure, pleasure that only you have brought him? Heaven. Heaven on earth, about to cum down your throat.

Logan never lasted long with your fingers in his ass.

You hold your breath while he comes undone in your mouth, bucking his hips against the swirling of your tongue. You try to swallow it all, but it’s difficult when he’s moving still, so you just hold on until he’s pumped every last drop into your mouth.

Before he can be overstimulated too much, he pulls your hand away from him and slides himself from your soft mouth.

“Fuck, baby, thought you were going to suck me dry for a second there,” 

“I would if you’d let me,” You smiled up at him. He reached down and gently rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip, catching a drip of his cum that you hadn’t managed to swallow. At first you thought he’d press it into your mouth, but instead he brought it to his own and you felt your face flame with unexpected heat.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” Logan helped you to your feet before adjusting himself and pulling up his slacks.

“Wait, you’ve got lipstick all over,” You tried to stop him from tucking himself away hoping you could clean him up properly, but he just chuckled and did up his pants.

“Something to remember you by,” He teased and you rolled your eyes before turning to the mirror to see the state of your own face. It was about what you’d figured but also you didn’t mind in the slightest.

Your red lipstick was smeared all across your cheek, your eyes were wet so your eyeshadow had mostly rubbed off, but luckily your eyeliner had stayed put. You wore super waterproof eyeliner for that reason after all. There was still some of the sticky release of Logan’s painted on your lips and tongue from where you’d failed to swallow it all.

“Look at that,” You mused. “You smeared my lipstick,” Logan chuckled at that, turning you around so that he could see.

“Seems so,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He gently took your chin and held you steady while he soiled the white silk with your red lipstick and the remains of his cum. After fucking your throat like that, you almost forgot he could be gentle too.

You liked it when he was gentle.

When Logan was satisfied with his work, he put his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned down to kiss your cheek, you froze when you felt his lips at the edge of yours. Almost a kiss. 

But he knew better than that. 

You both did.

You whined softly for him, wanting more, but you also needed to get back to work.

“Turn around for me,” Logan said. You raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked, gasping when he pressed himself against your ass.

“Logan,” You chided. “I need to head back,” 

“Just give me a minute to return the favor,” Logan was smirking at you over your shoulder as you watched him in the mirror. “I promise I won’t smear your lipstick this time,” You bit your lip at the thought of him getting you off here too.

“I really should be getting back,” You tried to say, but it was half hearted at best. He smacked your ass and you whimpered at him, terribly needy and terribly turned on.

“Spread your legs for me and lift your skirt,” He commanded against the shell of your ear. “Now,” You jumped at the authority in his voice and moved to do as he asked. You hoisted your skirt up to your hips and let your legs shift apart so that he had room to slide his knee between your thighs.

You gasped as he bounced his leg into your sensitive folds.

“I’ll repay you properly when we get home tonight, but until then,” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me make my baby feel good,” You could only nod as he reached down and slid his hand into your already soaked panties.

“Logan,” You moaned as his finger traced circles around your bud. “That feels so good,” 

“Good,” He nibbled on your earlobe. “Just relax,” 

You were about to give in entirely when the handle to the bathroom jiggled and it reminded you all at once that you were still at work.

“Fuck… Logan…” You tried to stop him, but he just dipped his fingers deeper and you mewled instead.

“Don’t worry about that, focus on me and what I’m doing,” Logan purred. The handle rattled again and this time you heard someone curse about the bathroom being occupied too long.

You jumped when the person outside banged on the door.

“Find another bathroom, bub!” Logan growled loudly as he kicked the door angrily in return. Another curse from outside the door and Logan slowed his movements until he couldn’t hear the person outside anymore. “Now where were we?”

You were gripping his arm, which was wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.

“I don’t even remember,” You admitted with a laugh, which shifted into a moan as he moved his fingers against you again and all at once you remembered. “Fuck,” You moaned.

“That’s it,” He sped up his fingers, watching your face in the mirror as your closed your eyes in pleasure. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” He grunted against your shoulder, his teeth teasing your skin.

It didn’t take much more for you to cum around his fingers, fluttering and shaking in his arms as he held you up.

“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it,” Logan purrs against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my pretty girl,” 

You turned, wanting to kiss him, to thank him for this, but you remembered his rule, so instead you pressed your forehead into his jaw and whined at him.

“I really do need to get back to work,” You whisper. “And you need to go make enough money for that trip we’ve been talking about,” 

“Yes ma’am,” Logan chuckled in your ear as he finally pulled his fingers out of the tight embrace of your cunt. You groaned at the loss of him, but hummed in pleasure when you watched him lick his fingers clean. “Need me to carry you to your desk?” He teased.

“Oh shush,” You stood and adjusted yourself. “I was just enjoying the moment for a little longer,” 

“Could always play hooky and use your key to get us into a room upstairs,” Logan said, like he was nothing but serious. You shove him playfully.

“Yeah, and then I’ll get fired again,” You chided. “We’re going to run out of good casinos if we keep doing that,” 

“So?” He pressed his lips to your temple. “Maybe when we run out of casinos, I’ll make an honest woman out of you,” This makes you pause. Could he be serious? 

“Only once we’ve run out?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“And if we get married, I’ll have to kiss you, won’t I?” It sounded almost like a tease, but there was nothing but joy and mirth in his eye.

And maybe, just maybe, love was sparkling in there too.

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

[sugawhaaa]

☆-txt smut reaction-☆

☆-First time squirting

Warnings/genre:: oral, sex toys, fingering, mentions of porn

Pairing:: ot5!txt x fem!reader

A/N:: I'm trying to post a variety of different groups but man I'm struggling. The parasites in me want to post skz

Soobin

He didn't really have any expectations for what he was doing, all he knew is that everytime he curled his fingers against that spongy spot and flicked your clit with his tongue you'd moan louder and louder. Soobins fingers never haulted their assault as he brought his lips around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, when your moans suddenly increased into a darn near scream, but your voice was filled with undeniable pleasure.

You grab his head forcibly and push his head into your slit. You tried to form words to express what you were feeling inside your weak and swollen pussy but you couldn't, the pleasure took control of every aspect of your body all the way through to your throat. "Cumming!" Is all you could cry out before your juices doused Soobins face and neck. Your body then falls limp, completely loose. Soobin pulls back and licks his lips.

"Baby..." he looks up at you, trying to hide his grin of pride. "I think you just squirted," he tells you and you pick your head up. You were so caught up in all the sensations that you didn't notice the waterlike liquid splattered across the floor and Soobins face.

"Oh my god," is all you can manage to say between heavy breaths. "Can you get me some water?" You pant out and Soobin instantly rushes to fulfill your needs after such an intense experience.

Yeonjun

"Cmon, you can take it," Yeonjun grins as he tilts the vibrator inside of you to hit that sweet spot again.

"I can't! I can't!" You cry out as your hands bundle into fists on his shirt. You were currently covered in toys that were at the hands of Yeonjun who had been overstimulating you for way too god damn long. "Yeonjun...I'm serious I can't," you cry out as tears build in your eyes but Yeonjun just kisses them away.

"Just a bit longer baby, I know you can do it. Deep breaths baby," he says as he slowly increases the vibrations as he rubs your clit in tight little circles. He rests his forehead against yours when you suddenly feel something stirring inside you.

"Y-Yeonjun I think-" you begin to warn him but he cuts you off.

"You can do it baby," he kisses you softly before resting his forehead on your again, except yours is covered in sweat and his isn't. That's when it happens. Something inside you bursts and you let out a pathetic cry of pleasure as your bails claw at Yeonjuns back.

"Yeonjun-ah!" You cry out in a symphony of pleasure as you let yourself go. Yeonjun is surprised at first, watching the fluids soak the bed and his thighs. He then quickly grabs the remote to the toys and turns them down slowly, not wanting to take away any extra pleasure that might be lingering. He then grabs you in a hug.

"You did so fucking good baby," he showers you in kisses as you chuckle softly, your chest still heaving. "I'll let you rest now while I clean up. Catch your breath and relax," yeonjun smiles as he stands up off the bed.

Beomgyu

To be honest, he didn't really know what the fuck he was doing but it seemed to be working. A few nights ago when you left beomgyu all by his lonesome like a big meanie he went onto pornhub to help him get off. While he was scrolling he saw a video about how to scientifically make a woman squirt. He was very intrigued and fell into a rabbit hole about the science of woman's bodies and damn was he impressed. Of course, he was up for the challenge though.

So now he had you on the bed, legs spread wide as he flicked his tongue against your clit and used almost a scratching motion against your G-Spot. He was determined to get you to squirt because he wanted to let you feel this intense pleasure. Then he heard you say the words he had been waiting for all night.

"B-Beomgyu..." you say shyly. "I-I feel like I'm gonna...pee," you admit as you hold back your moans.

"Perfect baby," he smirks up at you as he gives your clit a minute without stimulation, but his breath cools your clit, making your pussy tighten. "Just relax and let it out, I promise it's worth it," he begins to thrust his fingers faster and more forcibly. Your mind then started to go blank, all you could think about was his fingers pounding into you.

"G-Gyu-ah!" You grab a fist full of his long hair and tug on it slightly. "I-I feel-" before you can finish your statement Beomgyu has to squint his eyes shut to avoid liquid in his eyes. He opens his mouth to catch some of your arousal and hums in satisfaction at the tangy flavor on his tongue. When your high is over your body turns to jelly and you melt into the bed, feeling completely weak and immobile. Beomgyu felt overwhelmed with success as he watched your chest heave and sweat build up along your hair line, he knew he succeeded in making you feel above the clouds.

"Here have some water," Beomgyu offers you a water bottle from the nightstand that he had prepared earlier and watched in awe as you drank your water. He pets your hair as you chug it down and let out a sigh as your lips part the water bottle cap.

Taehyun

Terry knew he was skilled in the art of sex but he had never gotten a woman to squirt before, which didn't bother him or anything, but it was just something he noticed. That was until recently. Suddenly women squirting was becoming a trend of porn and started to bother him that at the very least he didn't even know how to do it. So he went to Google.

He watched a few tutorials on how to scientifically make a woman squirt and he understood from the videos that it wasn't something easy to achieve. Pressuring you into trying to squirt would only make things worse; so he decided not to tell you about it and simply ask to finger you. When he started he played it off normal and got you to orgasm once, then he switched tactics and focused on the sponge we call the G-spot.

He flicked your clit with his tongue and sucked on your folds as he flicked his finger back and forth on that spot. You could tell this orgasm was different and you had to tell Taehyun.

"T-Tae...I feel like..." as soon as you began to warn him he looked up at you, eager to hear what you'd say next. "I feel like I'm gonna...pee or something," you blush and cover your face slightly as you speak.

"Perfect...let it out baby," he smiles before leaning down to drink up your arousal again and before you knew it liquid was gushing out from between your legs.

Taehyun was honestly very excited to see that he was able to make you squirt but he focused more on making sure you were comfortable after such an intense experience. He had water prepared because he knew that after losing so much liquid your body would be craving fluid.

"Here, drink up," he encouraged as he helped you sit up on the bed. You were panting heavily, sweating, and your head was spinning like crazy. "Take your time," he smiles, "you did so good baby," he kisses your cheek and sits next to you, holding your water.

Kai

As much as Kai will try and deny it he really doesn't know that much about sex. He knows the basic stuff obviously and he's seen a lot of things on porn but there's still a lot he doesn't know the science behind; like squirting.

Conveniently though he knew where your G-spot was and that when he teased it you would lose your mind in pleasure. He used this to his advantage by getting a little internal vibrator that is aimed to go on the lower part of the G-spot, meaning that if he did this right, he could make you squirt. Did he know that? No. But point is he knew it'd make you see stars.

He placed the toy accordingly and turned it on, the buzzing shooting up your body in the most pleasurable way you knew, before beginning to eat you out softly. You lay comfortably against the pillows on the headboard of the bed and moan your little heart out. However, after a few minutes, something started stirring in your stomach, something indescribable.

"Kai..." you brush back some hair out of his face and he looks up at you.

"Yes baby?" He looks up at you attentively.

"Never mind..." You brushed off the feeling and let him continue but that sensation doesn't fade and suddenly you can't hold it. Your back arches off the bed as you tangle your fist in his hair. "I-I'm close!" You cry out, as if it wasn't obvious, and experience squirting for the first time.

Kai was caught off guard, not expecting to be able to achieve this level of pleasure in his performance. He's not really sure what to do but he turns the vibrator off and let's you catch your breath.

"That was..." he chuckles softly. "Amazing, how do you feel?" He crawls up to lay next to you.

"Exhausted," you laugh and kai brushes your hair back with a smile.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Four

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake's masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine's masterlist

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

The first thing Ivy felt as she stirred awake was a dull, satisfying ache between her thighs. Next was the naked, muscular body enveloping her from behind, full lips brushing her shoulder. Twisting her head, she found his handsome face peering down at her, his crinkled eyes soft and his voice softer against her skin. 

"Morning, baby girl," Roman murmured, muscular arms tightening around her, “How ya feeling? You sleep good?”

Gingerly, she shifted around to face him, noting how he instinctively moved his body closer to hers, her loins clenching at the feel of his flaccid yet impressive length pressed against her stomach. “I did…after you let me,” she replied, relieved to find that the feeling in her legs had returned and her voice was still intact. “Don’t tell me you’ve been watching me sleep,” she giggled.

“I plead the fifth. You’re too beautiful not to watch, sweetheart,” he chuckled, sliding his hand down her bare back to grip her ass as his face nuzzled the crook of her neck. His touch sparked memories of their wild night; the havoc his hands and mouth and his stunning weapon of a dick wrecked on her body, his voice deep and rough and authoritative as it coaxed her through literal waves of unforgettable pleasure that had him changing his Egyptian cotton bedding afterwards:

“Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick…ffuuck, Ivy…”

“I love the way you moan for me, baby girl, you sound so fuckin’ sexy…”

“Haha, look at you shakin’ and leakin’, fucking up my sheets…It feels good when I'm deep like this, right, baby?”

“Relax your throat so you can take more of my dick…yeah, just like that, mmm…”

“C'mon sweetheart, let Daddy make you come on this dick one more time…”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a content sigh leaving her as Roman gently kissed her lips and rubbed his hand up and down her back. “I wanna make you breakfast…whenever we get up, of course,” he said, looking down tenderly at her features. She looked so gorgeous in his arms, her hair tousled from sex and sleep, her body soft and warm. She belonged right here with him and if he had his way, she’d never leave his bed.

As much as she longed to spend her day like this, one glance at the clock on the wall advised otherwise. "Sadly, I gotta go. Zaia and Duchess will be home soon.” Also, she would very much rather not have Gemini find her here and start another lecture like she was her damn mother.

“You can shower here to save time, get cleaned up…We did…a lot, last night,” Roman grinned, mischief dancing in his warm brown eyes.

Blushing, Ivy rubbed her nose on his chest, breathing in his scent, “We did, and my body is feeling all of it right now.”

His brows furrowed with concern. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Not at all. And either way, I wanted it.” Easing herself upright, she glanced around the room, getting a good look at her surroundings for the first time considering how��occupied they were all night. “My dress is laying somewhere and I know the zipper’s busted, no thanks to a certain someone.”

“My bad. I’ll buy you a new one. I got a spare dress shirt you can wear,” Roman offered, letting her wiggle out of his arms and the cocoon of his bed to head to his bathroom, his gaze fixated on her naked glory all the way.

His shower was spacious, the water was warm and his sandalwood body wash was gentle on her deep brown skin. Yet it still couldn’t compare to the heat that filled her body thinking about their antics last night. The line had finally been crossed. Weeks of sexual tension had given way to giving in to her sexy-as-fuck next door neighbor. Cliché in the best and worst way. The pragmatic side of her was keen to overanalyze her actions, to pass it off as scratching an itch and be done with it to be never revisited again. The other part of her, the grieving, lonely young woman, had never felt this good, never felt as wanted and desired as Roman made her feel, and she wanted more. Needed more. For her pleasure. For her wellbeing. She would deal with the emotions when she was ready to cross that bridge. If ever.

Lost in her thoughts, she did not pick up on Roman joining her in the shower until his arms circled her waist. His long hair tickled her skin as he suckled the base of her neck, his mouth widening over the sensitive spot he'd become acquainted with, big hands roaming her body with purpose. As he turned her around, her eyes naturally fell to the shaft dangling menacingly between his tree trunk-like thighs. Even semi-erect, he was intimidating as hell. But even more intimidating was the predatory look in his eyes as he invaded her space with his big strong body, the swish of his tongue making her pussy quiver as she was reminded of how he’d worked it on her and in her until she saw stars…

The memory made her knees weak, and they just about gave way entirely when he smashed his lips to hers. His chest mashed against her hardened nipples, his fingertips grazing one before curling around her throat, soft groans exhaled in unison as the now familiar heat sizzled between them. They delved into each other’s mouths, lapping and sucking sloppily, heads twisting from side to side as he kicked her feet wider apart and grinded his erection against her mound, sending a fresh flood of wetness that had nothing to do with the running water.

“I’m gonna be late,” Ivy breathed out, an absurd statement considering that her home was literally across the street. Roman thought so too, easily dismissing her half-hearted protest with a laugh as he lifted her up against the marble wall.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he groaned, silencing her with another heated kiss, keeping her trapped between the solid wall and his equally solid muscles. Her shaky moans were his oxygen as he grasped his dick and pushed it inside her, letting out one of his own as her slick heat welcomed him. He reveled in the stunned look on her face, her jaw dropping as her pussy stretched open for him, compelling him to drive into her with hard yet measured thrusts of his hips. His haughty smirk was wide as she shuddered from pleasure, her nails scraping his broad shoulders, her thighs tightening around his waist pulling him deeper into her.

“Ssshiiit, Roman…”

“That’s right, baby, call out my name while I pound this sweet pussy…”

His arm latched protectively around her waist as he walked her to his front door. As they approached the foyer, Ivy looked up at him, her heart thudding from his smoldering gaze that always seemed to reach the depths of her soul. 

“Thank you for last night…for dinner, for the dick…It was amazing,” she whispered, pushing a stray lock of his hair back into his neat ponytail. 

As her hand dropped to his chest, Roman realized he couldn't let her leave without one more kiss. Caressing her chin between his long fingers, he molded his lips to hers, savoring the taste of her, ensuring to slip her some tongue before pulling back.

“Baby, you don’t ever have to thank me. I got you. If you or Zaia need anything, let me know. If you need to talk…or fuck…” he added slyly, Ivy gasping into his chest as he squeezed her ass, “Or both…just ask. I don’t care what time it is. Call me and I’ll be there,” he promised.

One of the perks of mutual attraction was the insane chemistry between the two parties. Having lacked this for years had almost made Ivy forget how good it felt to want and be wanted. How it felt for just one look to make her heart pound and set her body on fire. For her senses to be awakened with one touch. The butterflies, the schoolgirl-like giddiness…Roman reignited all of that in her in just a matter of weeks.

Having her all to himself seemed to unleash something in him too. Unearthed a sexual spontaneity and adventure that Ivy hadn’t experienced since her college days. Nowhere was too risky and no position was off limits; Perched on the sink in the tiny restroom of a diner, her moans hushed and his thrusts deep. On a deck chair by his pool, her legs on his shoulders, leaving her a sopping, sobbing mess. On all fours in the backseat of his Range Rover in the hospital’s parking garage, the fear of getting caught evaporating with each luscious plunging stroke inside her. Her pussy was his for the taking. Sex with him was so intense and breathtaking that she couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been her whole life.

“So are y’all dating now?”

Startled, Ivy glanced up from her phone so fast, whiplash was in her near future. She cast a nervous glance around the spa's relaxation lounge. It was empty and quiet save for the serene background music and the soothing trickle of a water fountain nearby. But for all Ivy cared, Gemini had uttered the question with a megaphone. "Do you have to be so loud?" she yell-whispered, quickly putting her phone away.

Picking up her complimentary glass of champagne, Gemini shrugged nonchalantly. "What? I'm just asking a question. You’re going on dates. You’re fucking, and the dick is obviously top tier cuz look how big your smile is from just texting him. And the feeling’s mutual, cuz your pussy got that man paying for your hair, your nails and this spa session.”

“Oh my god,” Ivy groaned, the clay mask on her face preventing her from burying her head in her fluffy white bathrobe from sheer embarrassment.

Ignoring her reaction, Gemini leaned back in her lounge chair to observe her best friend. “Look, Ivy. I’m glad you’re getting your back broke the way you deserve, girl. I really am. But I still can’t help but think you’re moving really fast with Roman.” 

On closer introspection, Ivy would agree. From the outside looking in, she was letting another man slot into the vacancy Angelo had opened up with his passing. But no one knew her life, especially not his mother Gloria, who still had nothing nice to say about her or Roman since confronting them at her son’s funeral. If only Ivy gave a shit. The woman turned a blind eye to everything her son put her through, thus, her opinions didn’t matter. No one was going to dictate how she grieved or moved on or how to raise her daughter and that was that.

And it wasn’t like she was moving on with Roman. She just felt so…connected to him. Long before they became two bereaved souls that lost their life partners in tragic circumstances. Plus, it wasn’t even all about the sex. He tapped into her desire for comfort and companionship that had eluded her since her relationship with Angelo collapsed. And unlike her ex, Roman appreciated her, and it was evident in the way he treated her. Making her laugh when she was having a tough day. Checking in on her regularly. Talking with her for hours and listening to her. She liked listening to him too; the stories he shared about growing up in Pensacola, Florida, the way his eyes lit up discussing his family with so much love and adoration. And then there were his other little thoughtful gestures; the care packages with soothing teas, bath salts, scented soaps and candles. The playlist of songs that “remind me of you” as he had named it on Spotify. Bouquets of flowers delivered to her workplace that had her fellow nurses ooh-ing and ahh-ing, not excluding her boss, Lilian. 

“Whoever this man is, do not let him go,” the Head Nurse had advised as she admired the soft pink roses perched on Ivy's desk. 

She didn’t plan to. Not when he was hitting every sweet spot she owned, literally and figuratively. Maybe Gemini was right. Maybe she was dickmatized. But she couldn’t really be blamed, could she? Roman was a smart, sexy man with a soft side and a protective nature that she found extremely appealing and was drawn to. 

“You’ve zoned out on me again.” Gemini’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You are dickmatized, girl. The sex is that fire, huh?”

Yes! Ivy thought, a small smile on her face as she tried to articulate her feelings. “It’s not just that. He’s been…really good to me, Gem,” she confessed, sipping pensively on her mimosa. “I feel like grief has kinda brought us together in a good way. Like it was meant to happen like this. Yeah, he’s…passionate. And I know you’re worried about his temper. But he’s been so gentle with me. He’s attentive. Affectionate. He…cares. And it feels good. Really good,” she went on, her eyes fixed imploringly on her best friend as though trying to plead her case. 

Gemini was silent as she took in Ivy’s assessment, the skepticism on her pretty features slowly melting into sympathy. “Well, in your defense, you do look…happy,” she admitted, “Happier than I’ve ever seen you with Angelo or anyone else. But I won’t stop begging you to keep your eyes open, babe. It won’t speak well of me as your friend if I don’t.” She was yet to find anything on Roman other than the fact that he had no social media presence of any kind. Odd as that was, it wasn’t a crime. Gemini truly wanted to believe she was overreacting about him, but her gut pushed her to keep looking just to make sure, for Ivy’s sake at least. And she would. Ivy didn’t need to know. If there was indeed nothing, she would let it go and forget all about it. “Angelo just passed. Your emotions are elevated. It’s okay to take things slow and not rebound so quick.”

Ivy pleaded the fifth on that. He was a welcome distraction from losing Angelo. A reprieve from her other reality of coming home and finding traces of her child’s father around the house. He never got round to taking all of his belongings with him when she kicked him out for good, which meant she was still kicking up the occasional item of his here and there that brought fresh waves of sadness each time. 

But no one was taking his death harder than Zaia, who had essentially abandoned her bedroom for her mother’s. More heartbreakingly, she was crying in her sleep almost every night, calling out for her daddy. Ivy was worried and planned to book an appointment with her pediatrician, Dr. Zayn. 

Again, Roman came to her rescue, arranging movie nights with her daughter, the two of them cuddling up on her couch and bonding over buttered popcorn and Disney’s iconic characters. As Halloween approached, Roman joined them in decorating not just her yard but his own as well, creating a festive atmosphere that brought joy to their little community. He even took them on an outing to Dave & Buster's, where his playful and attentive interaction with Zaia stood out. It was quite heartwarming how hands-on he was with her little girl; he would make a great father someday.

Ivy knew he was only trying to help; in no way did she expect him to replace Angelo because he never could. No one could. That was Zaia’s daddy, no matter what. And though Ivy acknowledged that she may like Roman a little more than the boundaries of mere physical attraction permitted, she knew better than to let those feelings cloud her judgment when it came to her baby. Angelo would always be a part of her life. She hadn't completely shoved him all the way to the back of her mind, but at least he no longer dominated her every thought. It was getting better, and better was better than worse.

An attendant entered the ladies’ space and set a tray of assorted fruits on their table. Gemini snatched up a strawberry and dropped it into her drink. "Anyway, you're gonna be at my party, right?" she asked, “What are you wearing?”

Gemini’s annual Halloween party was a highlight of the social calendar year, and it made Ivy cringe to know she’d forgotten about it. “Fuck. I’ve been so busy with work and everything else that I haven’t thought about it. I only got Zaia sorted out for her trick-or-treat party. I’ll find something for myself this week.”

“Good. Can’t wait to see what you do this year. Your Storm cosplay last year was fire.” A long, tense beat crawled by before Gemini cleared her throat, her next words tentative and begrudging. “You can bring Loverboy along, if you want,” she grumbled.

Smiling, Ivy raised her champagne flute to her lips. “I’m sure he’d like that. I want you to get along with him. No more tiptoeing around another man in my life.” Sitting upright, she moved in for the kill. “And what about the man in yours anyway, huh? Officer Hayes, hmm? If you don’t focus on that fine ass man and leave me alone…”

Eyes wide, Gemini avoided her friend's teasing gaze. “Ion know whatchu talkin’ about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Ivy smirked.

Nobody threw a party quite like Gemini Beaufort. Her Halloween bashes were the stuff of legend, with an over-the-top grandeur that seemed to escalate with each passing year. By the time October’s final night arrived, the anticipation was palpable. Securing an invitation to her party was almost as difficult as getting into an elite club. Hosted in the grand, sweeping mansion that had been in her family for decades, attending a Beaufort party was a badge of honor in this town, an unspoken acknowledgment that you were now part of Hartford’s elite.

Hand in hand, Roman and Ivy climbed the winding stone steps. The dark silhouette of the house framed the towering trees draped in cobwebs. Skeletons hung from the eaves, their bony hands outstretched in eerie welcome, while carved, glowing pumpkins lined the path like sentinels guarding the front door. Fog rolled across the ground, and a ghostly figure swayed in the breeze, making the mansion feel like something out of a haunted tale.

As they neared the entrance, Ivy noticed Roman fidgeting with his costume. He was dressed as Aquaman, the golden, two-piece spandex clinging to his chiseled body like a second skin, his trident gleaming in his hand. But despite the impressive Jason Momoa-esque look, Roman seemed uncomfortable, adjusting the tight fabric around his torso. “You good, babe?” she questioned.

“I don’t know, Ivy,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “This thing is skintight. I feel…exposed. Like it’s showing everything.”

His nerves were a sharp contrast from Ivy’s, looking effortlessly stunning in her Clovers cheerleader uniform from Bring It On, the iconic green, yellow and gold ensemble accentuating her curves. She smiled softly at him, her eyes warming. “Well, it’s showing all the right things,” she joked, biting her lip when he frowned. “Relax. You look great. Like you just stepped off a movie set,” she reassured him.

Roman exhaled sharply, his gaze shifting toward the house where the party raged on inside. “It ain’t the outfit,” he admitted. “It’s more of the people, I think. I’m not…great with crowds.”

Ivy’s smile grew, her heart softening at his vulnerability. She had seen this side of him before—strong but uncertain. Needing assurance. “Remember how you stood by me at Angelo’s funeral? You defended me in a room full of strangers,” she reminded him. “Well, I’m gonna do the same for you tonight.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “You look sexy as hell, babe. You’ll be fine, because we’re in this together. And if all else fails, we’ll just drink the night away.”

At that, Roman’s posture relaxed, the tension eased. He smiled at her, his expression grateful. “You right. Thanks, baby.” He paused, the gratitude in his eyes shifting to something else as he looked her over. “You look beautiful, by the way. Really beautiful,” he drawled, licking his lips. “You sure we can’t go back home and have a party of our own?”

“Down, boy,” Ivy giggled, swatting his creeping hand away as she glanced toward the door. The brass knocker had been replaced with a creepy, oversized spider, its legs curled around the handle. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and grabbed it to knock.

The door swung open, the soft creak of the hinges drowned out by the thumping bass of music from inside. A wide smile lit up Gemini’s face as her eyes fell on Ivy, her jaw dropping as she took in her outfit.

“Ivy! Girl, you look incredible!” Gemini’s voice rang out with warmth, her own costume, a curvaceous Lola Bunny from Space Jam, hugging her voluptuous shape enticingly. The white crop top, matching shorts, and knee-high socks paired with her signature bunny ears made her look every bit like the cartoon character. “I’m so glad you made it!” She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Ivy in a tight hug, the scent of lavender and cinnamon swirling between them.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ivy grinned. “You woulda beat my ass anyway if I did.”

Gemini stepped back, eyes flicking over Ivy’s shoulder, her smile faltering at the towering figure behind her, his sharp features and easy smile that seemed just a little too practiced. He was dressed as Aquaman—predictable. Her eyes lowered to his hand on the small of Ivy’s back, possessiveness radiating from the man that the attorney was yet to warm up to. But she was quick to recover, plastering on a welcoming smile.

“Hi, Roman,” she said coolly, stepping aside to let them in. 

“Hey, Gemini,” he replied smoothly, his voice cheery as he looked around. “Thanks for inviting me. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” Gemini answered. “I’m glad you both could come. It’s gonna be a fun night.”

The entire space of the mansion’s grand foyer had been transformed, an intricate web of cobwebs draping the walls, bats dangling from the ceiling, and pumpkins carved with jagged smiles glowing from every corner. The scent of mulled cider and spiced pumpkin filled the air, the low hum of conversation and laughter drifting in from the next room. Before they parted ways, Gemini’s eyes met Ivy’s again with that disapproving look that Ivy was starting to tire of. In turn, her eyes narrowed, a subtle, silent warning. Roman, however, seemed oblivious to the tension, scanning the room with that same cautious gaze. Watching them slip further into the crowd, Gemini’s eyes lingered on the big man and suppressed a sigh, deciding to focus on the party. Tonight wasn’t about him. It was about having fun, celebrating with the people she cared about, and being a good host. 

The vibrant energy soon took over, the lights, the laughter, and the familiar hum of a good time. Ivy showed Roman around, introducing him to other neighbors and a few other friends of hers, including local cops Officer Gable and Officer Hayes, the latter looking spectacular in his Killmonger armor. Dinner was a vibrant mix of the ordinary and the macabre. Alongside the classic chicken, beef, and vegetarian dishes, the buffet featured quirky options like graveyard chocolate pudding cups, bloody finger hot dogs and cheesy pizza skulls. The bar added a playful twist, serving drinks in boozy blood bags and Jell-O shot syringes, alongside cocktails inspired by iconic horror villains like Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers and Chucky.

At the table, conversation flowed freely, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Ivy sat sandwiched between Roman and Raquel, a paralegal at Gemini’s law firm.  The hostess herself claimed the head seat, with Officer Hayes right next to her. Ivy noticed how Carmelo had stuck close to Gemini all evening. It wasn’t subtle, and Ivy was certain they were sleeping together. They were undeniably cute, even if Gemini would never admit it. Ivy smirked to herself, already planning how she’d tease her friend about it later.

She turned her attention to Roman, checking on him. He’d been quiet, not saying much, listening to other people’s chatter as he picked at his food. “How’s your food? Good?” she asked, eyeing up his half-eaten plate of shrimp fried rice and garlic butter salmon.

Roman nodded, leaning close to her, “It is. But I’d rather be eating something else cuz it looks so fucking good.”

Before she could ask him to clarify, he snuck his hand under the table to rest it on her leg, moving it along her inner thigh.

"Roman!" Ivy hissed, shocked at his boldness. Surely he wasn't going to try to do what she thought he wanted to do in the presence of all these people, dimmed lighting or not. Her eyes widened as Roman tugged her panties to the side, teasing her folds with his fingers, gathering the growing wetness.

At that exact moment, Raquel decided to steer the conversation to them, leaning forward on the dining table with a sly grin. “So, Nurse Jones, we see you’ve been scooped up by the handsome new neighbor over here,” she teased, her voice brimming with curiosity. “Tell us all about it. How did this beautiful union happen?”

Ivy opened her mouth to answer, but any attempt at forming a coherent thought was derailed by two thick, long fingers suddenly plunging into her, sending shockwaves all over her body. Grabbing his wrist under the table, she struggled to keep a straight face, a sharp contrast from Roman as he stepped in smoothly. “It’s pretty straightforward, really. I came over to hers, asked to borrow some sugar, and she gave me a cookie recipe along with it. The rest, as they say, is history,” he announced, his voice warm and effortlessly charming.

The table erupted into a mix of laughter and ‘aww’s. Ivy’s flushed features were for a far less innocent reason than his sweet comment as she shot Roman another warning look. He merely raised an eyebrow as if daring her to lose her composure, his signature smirk firmly in place as his fingers pumped inside her, making her squirm in her seat as she fought to suppress her moans.

A clueless Raquel nearly spilled her wine as she clutched her stomach. “A cookie recipe! Classic! That’s so cute,” she exclaimed.

Carmelo chimed in next, his tone gentle but curious. “And Zaia? Has she taken to you?” His eyes flicked to Ivy, aware that her little girl had been the center of her world since day one.

Roman’s countenance shifted then, the playful air giving way to something softer, more sincere. “Zaia is the sweetest little girl,” he said, his voice unwavering. “She’s so smart, and she has her mama’s kind heart. I’m blessed to get to know her. Ivy’s an amazing mother. It’s been a tough year for me, and I’m so glad I’ve met them, and all of you as well. I can tell that this town will be good for me.”

The warmth emanating from him seemed genuine, and even Carmelo appeared won over. There were murmurs of approval around the table, heads nodding in silent agreement.

But not everyone was convinced. Gemini sat quietly, her glass of wine untouched, her sharp eyes flickering between Roman and Ivy. Unlike the others, she wasn’t laughing or nodding. Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest, her face a careful mask that betrayed nothing except a slight tension in her jaw.

As Roman continued to field questions and charm the room, she remained silent. Her piercing eyes took in every word, every gesture, every touch. Something about him just did not sit right with her. His words felt just a little too smooth, too charming, his timing just a little too perfect.

The others were too busy to notice Gemini’s quiet skepticism, but Ivy could feel it, even if she wasn’t looking her way. She could only imagine her indignation if she knew that Roman was currently fingering her under the table. She forced a smile as Raquel launched into another question, fighting the urge to scream as her orgasm loomed. But right as she made it to the brink of euphoria, Roman stopped, pulling his fingers out of her.

“We’ll finish this later,” he growled, kissing her cheek and patting her thigh, refocusing on his food like nothing happened.

Infuriating.

Intoxicating.

After dinner, the guests gathered in the cozy, candlelit den. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the room. Lounging on plush armchairs and sprawling rugs, the drinks continued to flow and loosen people up more and more. Someone had started a risqué game of “Truth or Dare,” but Roman seemed uninterested in the group activity, his attention wholly fixed on Ivy.

Her seat was his lap, her laughter chiming through the room as someone recounted a particularly embarrassing dare. Roman’s arm remained draped possessively around her waist, his fingers idly tracing circles on her hip. His gaze, though lighthearted, was sharp and territorial, shooting silent warnings at anyone who dared look at Ivy for more than a fleeting moment. Most irritating of them all was Damian, a mutual friend of Gemini and Ivy’s whom Roman noticed had been eyeing her up all evening, seated next to them in a gaudy vampire rockstar getup as he made conversation with her. Then for some reason, he dared to address Roman himself, nodding in his direction. “Hey, great costume, man,” he complimented.

Plastering a plastic smile on his face, Roman leaned forwards, his tone deceptively casual as he responded loud enough for the entire room to hear, “Thanks man. Ya know, I almost didn’t bother with a costume this year. I considered dressing up as a homicidal maniac.” He paused, letting the room go still for a moment before adding with an airy laugh, “Ya know, cuz they look like anybody?”

The room’s energy froze for a beat, the humor landing awkwardly. A few people exchanged uneasy glances. Damian looked flabbergasted.

Roman clapped his hands together, his grin widening as if to erase the tension. “Come onnnn, relax, people! Lighten up! Anyway, I think I nailed the Aquaman look, right?”

Laughter rippled through the room, hesitant at first, but it grew louder when Roman flashed his megawatt smile and raised his drink. The moment passed, but Gemini wasn’t laughing. From her seat on Carmelo’s lap, she studied Roman with narrowed eyes, her suspicions too great to hold in any longer.

A little while later, as guests migrated to refill their glasses and raid the buffet table for more snacks, Gemini saw her chance. She waited until Roman wandered into the kitchen alone and followed him from a distance.

“Roman,” she said, her voice sharp and deliberate.

He turned, his smile immediate but calculated. “Gemini! What’s up? Great party-”

“What kinda creepy ass comment was that, huh? Homicidal maniac? Really? After everything that’s been going on in this town? Could you show your ass anymore out there?” she accused.

“I was just trying to be funny. Sure, it didn’t hit at first but I think I recovered. If my joke was perceived as offensive then I-”

“Cut the shit,” Gemini snapped, stepping closer. Her voice was low but firm, her eyes boring into his. “I’m a goddamn attorney, Roman. Your passive-aggressive bullshit don’t work on me. I see through it, and I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

Roman’s smile didn’t waver, but it shifted into something colder, crueler. He leaned casually against the counter, swirling the drink in his hand. “Ivy is a grown woman, Gem,” he said, his tone almost too calm. “A mother, with her own family. Something you don’t have, and with that attitude, you probably never will.”

Gemini’s composure faltered, just for a second, at the scathing jab. Roman caught the slip-up like a cat catching a canary, and his smile widened, his voice softening mockingly. “I’m sure Ivy can make her own decisions without her lawyer friend hovering around.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve tolerated your hostility long enough. But let me give you some friendly advice, sweetheart. You don’t wanna get on my bad side, ever. I promise you that.”

Before Gemini could retort, the sound of approaching footsteps made them both pause. Ivy appeared in the doorway, her brows furrowed in confusion as she took in the tense scene.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her gaze darting between the two of them.

Gemini straightened, her tone as lighthearted as possible. “Just having a chat with your boyfriend.”

Roman immediately softened, his expression shifting into one of wounded innocence. “I think I’ve upset her somehow,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “I’m not sure what I did but whatever it is, I’m sorry, Gemini. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

Stunned by his complete 180, Gemini opened her mouth to respond, but Ivy got there first. “Gemini, can I talk to you for a second?” she spoke, more a demand than a request.

Roman stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said smoothly, pressing a light kiss to Ivy’s cheek before slipping away.

As soon as he was gone, Ivy turned on Gemini, her eyes blazing. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem?” Gemini shot back. “I’m trying to protect you, Ivy! I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either!”

Ivy’s shoulders sagged slightly, exhaustion and grief creeping into her demeanor. “I don’t need this from you right now, Gem. I’m barely holding it together after Angelo, and Roman…Roman’s been there for me in a way no one else has.”

“Exactly!” Gemini said, her tone urgent. “Don’t you think it’s a little too convenient? He shows up out of nowhere, swoops in while you’re at your most vulnerable, and suddenly he’s everywhere in your life? Doesn’t that raise any red flags for you?”

Ivy’s jaw tightened. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not Angelo. I’m not a case you need to solve, Gemini. I’m a grown ass woman and I can decide who I want in my life. Roman’s good to me and Zaia. That’s all that matters.”

Gemini stared at her, her frustration mounting. “You’re not seeing the whole picture, Ivy! Please, just—”

“Enough!” Ivy snapped, stamping her foot angrily. “You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s done nothing but protect me and be there for me! Just cuz you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I'm the same!” She trailed off. Reeled her temper back in. Ignoring the hurt in her best friend's eyes, she addressed her with a clipped and cold tone. “I’m only gonna say this one time. Stop trying to interfere in my life. If you don’t, I might have to reevaluate our friendship.”

Gemini’s eyes widened. “And what does that mean?”

“Figure it out. You’re the one who knows everything,” Ivy bit back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Over a nigga you just met?” Gemini shook her head in disbelief. “Wow, Ivy. Wow.”

Ivy stood her ground. “I said what I said. All I know is I can’t go on like this. This constant back and forth with you. I’ve made up my mind about Roman and clearly, so have you.” She shrugged. “The only difference is I don't care what you think anymore.”

Gemini swallowed the lump in her throat as Ivy turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the counter. Roman’s words kept echoing in her mind, chilling and deliberate. 

You don’t wanna get on my bad side, ever.

Gemini wasn’t scared of his threats. But she was more certain than ever: Roman was hiding something. And she wasn’t going to stop until she found out what it was.

Ivy stormed out of the kitchen, her sneakers pounding against the hardwood floor. She pushed her emotions down, forcing herself to breathe evenly, to shake off the lingering sting of her gut-wrenching argument with Gemini. The music from the den grew louder as she approached, but it all felt like static compared to the turmoil in her chest.

Roman spotted her immediately. He was lounging against the wall near the fireplace, sipping from a glass of bourbon, his Aquaman costume catching the firelight. His sharp eyes tracked her as she neared him, his expression shifting into one of concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, setting his drink down. He reached for her hand, pulling her close. “You okay? What happened back there?”

Ivy avoided his questioning stare, her expression tight. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just…I want to leave.”

Roman frowned, tilting his head. “Leave? Why?”

“Because,” she said, her voice faltering, “I’m not in the mood anymore. Gemini…She thinks she knows everything! She’s just trying to protect me, but I can’t deal with it right now. I don’t want to ruin your night, Roman.”

“Ruin my night?” Roman chuckled, the sound low and warm. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Baby girl, don’t let her ruin your night. This is meant to be fun. You deserve a break…you’ve been through so much.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, firmly but kindly. “Stay. Forget about her. I’ll handle her if she steps out of line again, okay?”

Ivy hesitated, her eyes searching his face. Something about the way he looked at her—the unshakable confidence, the way he made her feel grounded—settled the tension in her chest. She nodded slowly. “Fine. Get me a drink. A strong one.”

Roman’s lips curled into a pleased smile. “Comin’ right up,” he said, kissing her softly before heading off to do as she asked.

Deeper into the night, the party reached a fever pitch. The music thumped louder, a sultry beat that made the air feel electric. Ivy, emboldened by her third cocktail, shepherded Roman to a corner, away from the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. Backing up on him, her movements were fluid and teasing, her body swaying to the rhythm of Chris Brown and Davido’s “Sensational”. Her head tilted back, her laughter loud and uninhibited, her eyes locked seductively on Roman’s. He gripped her hips, pulling her flush against his crotch, biting his lip as she bent at the waist to grind on him, her ass gyrating obscenely against the thick bulge of his erection. A low groan slipped from her lips when he yanked her back upright, brushing her hair out of the way to nuzzle her neck, his mouth hot and greedy on her heated skin.

The other guests watched, some whispering to each other, some pretending not to notice. Ivy was putting on a show and she knew it. Her grief, her frustration, her lingering anger with Gemini—all of it melted away as she lost herself in the music and Roman’s presence. Turning around, she wound her arms around his neck and captured his mouth with hers, absorbing the alcohol lacing his tongue. His hands traveled underneath her little skirt, grabbing and squeezing her ass cheek in large handfuls, his body rocking with hers in time with the music. 

Roman leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re full of surprises tonight, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone heavy with amusement—and something darker.

Eyeing him through her long lashes, her hand trailed down his chest, her touch deliberate as she stroked his visible hard-on through the stretched fabric of his costume, loving the feel of him throbbing in her hand. 

“I need you. Need your dick inside me,” she whispered to him, lust simmering in her brown eyes.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Roman cupped the nape of her neck, his lips brushing her ear. “Where’s Gemini’s bedroom?” 

Ivy froze for a half-second, caught off guard by his question. She pulled back slightly to look at him, a curious smirk tugging at her lips. “Why?”

His grin was devilish, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Where better to fuck you than right under her nose? Let her hear just how much you need me.”

Ivy’s heart raced, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness and alcohol twisting in her stomach. She glanced around the room, the other guests oblivious to their conversation, and then back at Roman. He was watching her expectedly, intently, his darkened eyes filled with a dangerous kind of charm.

“You nasty motherfucker,” she slurred, her full lips curved into a wicked, excited grin.

Roman leaned in, crushing his mouth to hers, his kiss laced with carnal, tantalizing promise. “Only for you, baby girl.”

Without further hesitation, she grabbed his hand and dragged him off the dance floor. As they disappeared from view, the music continued to pulse, the party continuing without them.

They stumbled up the staircase, Roman watching her ass sway from side to side as she moved. He made an impatient sound and swiftly scooped her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way up. Giggling drunkenly, Ivy tucked her face in the thick column of his neck, licking that one protruding vein that made her crazy for him. “You smell so good, handsome,” she purred, latching her mouth to his throat with an almost vampiric hunger, her clit pulsing in anticipation for the naughtiness about to transpire.

“Which door?” asked Roman.

“Last one on the right,” she murmured, wiggling out of his grasp and mildly surprised to find the door open as she turned the knob and dragged him inside. Roman looked around with a raised eyebrow at the spacious master bedroom, sleek and organized and fitting for an uppity bitch like Gemini. His gaze cut back to the sexy little MILF before him, her dark eyes glazed and stormy, her ample chest heaving in shallow breaths. He eagerly closed the gap between them, his hands finding her hips and yanking her to his chest. Cupping his bearded face, Ivy pulled him in, her mouth meeting his with heated eagerness. Roman maneuvered them to the bed and shoved her onto it face-first, his eyes blazing as he ogled her exposed derrière.

“So fucking sexy. The things I wanna do to you in this little ass skirt,” he murmured, his hands all over her ass, smacking the plump cheeks. “Come here, baby, let Daddy give you what you need.”

In what felt like record time, she was on her hands and knees on Gemini’s king bed, her back arched, panties tugged to the side, deep, powerful backshots making her scream Roman’s name into the comforter lest all the guests downstairs would find out exactly they were up to in here.

“You feel that dick, baby girl? You like that?” asked Roman. His body weight damn near had her face disappearing into the bed. Flat on her chest, ass in the air, barely able to keep her eyes open as he dug her out from behind, forcing his dick deeper into her with tantalizing rolls and snaps of his hips. 

“Shit…I feel it, oh fuck!” Ivy cried, wanton, breathy pants punched out of her by his dizzying length and girth tunneling in and out of her, nudging against her g-spot, right where she wanted it. Fuck, he was so deep!

He liked that she couldn’t seem to control her noises because she was taking him so fucking well, his pelvis smacking loudly and lewdly against her ass, a mesmerizing sight. He grabbed the soft flesh, using his strong grip to rock her back and forth on his dick, making her meet his deep thrusts. Her pussy was so wet that it lathered the entirety of his cock, dripping down her inner thighs and onto the sheets. “Mm-hmm, make a mess on my big dick, baby. Getting fucked on your bestie’s bed like a nasty slut…You love this shit, don’t you,” he taunted her, wrapping his fist around her pigtails and using them as a steer, controlling her. 

“Yes, I love it…unnh, fuck my pussy, baby, don’t stop!” She was definitely under a liquor spell that had her talking and acting reckless tonight. This was one of the few reasons she didn’t drink much. No way in her sober mind would she have agreed to desecrate her best friend’s bedroom like this.

But right now she didn’t want to think about Gemini or anything else except the feel of this hot, big man and his even bigger dick all up in her like it was now.

Sitting up straighter, Roman pulled out and flipped her roughly onto her back. Climbing into the bed, he yanked her closer to him and hoisted her shaky legs up on his shoulders. Ivy tried not to scream at the maddening, deliberately slow wind of his hips as he forged his way back inside her. 

"Awww, right there," she whimpered, head thrown back, her mouth falling open in ecstasy, "Oh my god, your dick feels so good..."

Roman grunted, weaving his hands inside her top to massage her breasts. “Been wantin’ to fuck you all damn night.” He groaned as her walls clung to his dick, squeezing every inch as he maintained his pace, keeping up his relentless strokes inside her pussy. So wet, so warm and tight, a wonderful sensation. “Shit, this pussy too good. You’ve put a spell on me, baby girl. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, day and night.” He bent down to lash his tongue inside her mouth, his eyes filled with a fire that matched the burning in hers. 

“You belong to me,” he growled in a dark and possessive whisper, his fingers shifting downward to play with her pussy. “You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Forever. You understand me?” 

“Yes, baby,” Ivy moaned back to him, delirious, her body on fire, the flames fueled by his other hand gripping her throat, applying a little pressure as the bed shook and rattled under the strain of their coupling. Above her, Roman’s eyebrows knitted, his hold on her tightening as for a brief moment, his vision blurred, distorted, and suddenly, it was Gemini lying beneath him instead, her eyes wide and bulging with sheer terror, the light in them slowly fading away as he choked the life out of her.

The image, so vivid and palpable, made him fuck Ivy harder. Squeeze her neck tighter.

She was a moaning, mewling, soaked mess underneath him, her essence smeared all over both their lower regions. Overwhelmed by the thrill, the pleasure, the power of his deadly thrusts absolutely ruining her sweet spot. This was exactly how he wanted her, powerless and compliant to his will, and there was nothing she could do about it, nor did she want to. She looked into his eyes, his gorgeous face twisted in an erotic mix of concentration and pleasure. Her nails dug into his broad back, keeping him close. Body to body, skin on skin. So good; he felt so good on her, in her, and she was on the verge of explosion.

“I’m gonna come,” she whined, her breaths joining his in bursting expulsions of air as he pounded her into Gemini’s mattress. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she came apart, her body convulsing from the orgasm to end all orgasms, robbing her of all her senses. She was all nerves and sensation as Roman continued pumping into her at blistering speed, gasping and growling against her sweat-slick skin. 

“Let me come in you,” he beseeched her with a sloppy, tongue-laden kiss, groaning at the feel of her rubbing the firm flesh of his backside, amplifying the already intense sensations coursing through his massive frame. 

"Come in me, Roman. I want all your cum," she encouraged, her fingers tangling in his long locks to anchor him to her, inhaling his sweat-slick, sweet scent. A feeling like this could never be replicated—this animalistic passion, this wild and primal need for each other. Every touch, every stroke was magic, a fountain of bliss and ecstasy that Ivy was drunk off of and she would be for the foreseeable future.

A jumble of expletives along with Ivy’s name tumbled from Roman’s lips as he came hard, his hips jerking, releasing all he had inside her. He remained on top of her when his orgasm ebbed away, shifting so that her legs slid from his shoulders and settled around his waist. He kissed her softly and relished in her satisfied sighs and the sensual brushes of their lips together. Sitting back on his heels, he studied her with a wipe of his brow, biting his bottom lip cheekily before they both burst into soft laughter as the gravity of their misdeeds sank in.

“Let’s take this party home, beautiful,” he breathed, slapping her backside lightly before helping her out of the bed. “Best believe I ain’t done with your fine ass.”

Thank goodness that Zaia was having a sleepover. “Sounds good to me, babe,” Ivy concurred as they adjusted each other's clothes before sneaking out of the room, not bothering to straighten the rumpled sheets and pillows scattered on the bed.

Thanks for reading! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Also keep your Asks coming, we're loving all the theories!

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[nottswitch]

Hey love, i was wondering if you could do 22 and 24 with sub Draco :) ? Absolutely loooveee ur work and I'm super curious to see what you come up with !!

hi babe, i’m so happy you like my work, and thanks for your request!! 💘 it’s my first time writing for draco, so i’m a bit nervous, but also excited. hope you enjoy :)

prompt list

22. "not here, please."

24. "it’s all over."

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; draco m.list ; how to request

18+ smut

dinners at the malfoy manor had always been a fancy occasion, even with just draco’s friends – he was a bit of a show-off, or a lot, depending on his mood at the exact point in time. you were sitting next to him at the generously served table, sipping on the most expensive white wine one could find in the entirety of britain and listening to the guys discussing something quidditch-related.

his suit caught your eyes again, and you turned your head to have a better look – not that you hadn’t already seen it from all possible angles, but there was something about this particular piece that made you want to ruin the perfection that was the smoothness of the designer fabric. and you knew just the way to do it.

pretending to listen to mattheo’s endless rambling about the latest falmouth falcons win against appleby arrows, you casually slipped your hand under the table. it found draco’s thigh with practiced ease, softly caressing the silky-smooth leg of his trousers. immediately, you felt his muscles tense under your touch, which made your lips tug in a smirk around the rim of your wine glass.

"not here, please," draco whispered in a strained voice, trying his best not to look as your hand started traveling up, up, up, your fingers skimming and kneading his inner thigh. you raised an eyebrow, the gesture subtle, but obviously catching his attention even from the corner of his eye. draco swallowed, obediently spreading his legs a bit further apart to grant you access – the look in your eyes told him everything he had to know, and his cock, already half-hard, twitched at the realization of what was about to happen.

you watched the situation sinking in for him, and without further ado, placed your hand right on the tent in the black, silken fabric of his pants. draco’s fingers tightened around his own glass, as tight as his teeth were clenched – he prayed to everything that was holy that none of the guys would have an idea to ask him a question right now.

you slowly palmed him through his trousers, the time spent to get him fully hard being comically short. you felt the flutter of his pulse nearly beating out of his cock under your hand, making you feel even more powerful than you already were. draco’s thighs tensed at each movement, and you could hear his breathing getting more shallow – a sign that no one but you could understand.

a few torturous moments later, his trousers were unbuttoned, the bulge in his briefs now bared to the chilly air inside the dining room. a shiver ran up draco’s spine at the sensation, and he took another sip of wine to at least appear somewhat nonchalant. his gaze was fixed intently on mattheo, who was in the process of demonstrating a particularly impressive movement of his favourite beater during the game. under the table, hidden by the cloth, your index finger was circling the tip of his cock through the briefs, feeling the spot rapidly dampen with precum.

"f-fuck," draco quietly stuttered out, immediately washing the word down with a sip of wine. your eyebrow quirked up, and the next second, your palm landed silently but firmly on his thigh, giving it a punishing slap. draco closed his eyes, his hand almost squashing the glass, to stop himself from flinching. his cock didn’t listen, though, twitching eagerly at every single brush of your hand, be it a gentle caress or a smack.

"quiet,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the chatting guys across the table, blissfully unaware of what their friend was going through. draco swallowed and nodded, leaning back against the leather of the chair and pretending to keep up appearances.

your hand went back between his legs, continuing the up-and-down movements over his warm length. you knew it wouldn’t take long for him to cum, not when he was in public like that, so to say. he kept still, but you could see tears starting to well up in his eyes from how painfully aroused he was and how much he was already aching to come undone.

a squeeze, and there it was. you could see draco’s legs shake under the table as his cock was nearly bursting out of his briefs, string after string of white seeping through the thin fabric and staining his pants. your hand was safely out of reach, so you didn’t even have to wipe it, just pull it up and rest it on the table. draco didn’t have such a privilege, discreetly glancing down and realizing he would have to either clean all of this up somehow or stand up with obvious white stains on his crotch. he glanced at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something, but the only thing you gave him was a small shrug. however, the sight of his glassy eyes made your expression soften just a bit.

"it’s all over," you murmured quietly, so that others wouldn’t hear. you leaned in, your lips brushing against draco’s ear and making the tiny platinum hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "if you clean yourself up nicely, i’ll give you a reward once everyone leaves."

it took everything for draco not to whimper at your sultry words. he knew exactly what you meant – the night was going to be a long one.

[postracehair]

say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

three times george curses. or, a beginning, a middle, and a future.

cw: george cursing. a few scrapes and a little bit of blood, some kissing, and a love confession to boot.

a/n: this kind of ran away from me, especially in the middle but every time george russell says fuck an angel gets its wings. written ages ago but posting in honor of Las Vegas.

---

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

You've only been here a few times, but a match day spent with your coworker and some of her friends is better than sitting on your couch alone, right? Wine and cookies in hand, you trudge up two flights of stairs to her flat. By the time you reach the landing, you can already hear the chatter and the TV.

No one seems to hear your knock so you push the door open and gingerly step in. The kitchen is on the other side of the flat, and you assume everyone is somewhere between there and the television.

But when you pass the living room where the TV actually is, there's just one guy on the couch. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees watching a penalty get called.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says to no one.

You snicker. He whirls around. "Hello," you say.

"Sorry," he says, standing immedietly. Wow, he's tall. "Sorry, hello."

Oh, and he's familiar. You know him, kind of. He's -- god, he races cars, right? Shit, what is his name? Your coworker has social connections you barely understand so it's not really a surprise to find someone who is probably famous in her flat.

"It is just you, then?" you ask. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Dressed in jeans and a team jumper, his casual outfit is at odds with the severe cut of his jaw, his cheekbones. He just looks expensive.

"No," he says. "No, everyone is putting plates together. I'm afraid I might be the one most interested in watching the match."

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

He rounds the sofa, hand out. "Could be better," he says. "I'm George."

You readjust the items in your hands to shake his and tell him your name. He repeats it, and you smile.

"Let me go put these down," you say, "and then, um. Do you want some company, George?"

Honestly, you're not sure where that came from. But, though you came here to escape the smothering loneliness of your own flat, something about him makes you want to stay here rather than go into the kitchen with everyone else.

"'Course I do," he says. "I promise to tighten up my language. Won't do for that to be my first impression."

You wave him away though your cheeks feel a little hot and head for the kitchen.

Your coworker brightens at seeing you and takes your hostess gifts with ease.

"The match is on in the other room," she tells you, "but most of us are drinking in here."

"I saw," you say. "I met George."

She hears something in your tone that turns her expression something between amused and calculating. "You did, did you?"

You just nod, loading up a plate with the various nibbles. "How do you know him, anyway?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know." No, you don't, but she plows on. "What did you think?"

"Taller than he seems on TV," you mutter. "But very polite. He shook my hand."

That gets her to laugh. "Oh, of course he did. Well, don't stand around in here with us. Go chat up a Formula 1 driver!"

George is back on the couch when you return, arm stretched over the back of it, brows furrowed.

"Has anything exciting happened?" you ask him, sitting down with a perfectly responsible distance between you.

He grimaces. "Nothing good. Wolverhampton, bless 'em, are quite bad."

That might explain why no one is watching this match with him, but you keep that to yourself.

"I see," you say, solemnly. "But loyalty is loyalty, I suppose, if they're your club."

"Exactly," George says. "It's suffering but it has to be done." Someone on the screen triggers a free kick and George leans in until it's over. He starts talking about one of the players being traded, or his contract being renegotiated, or something. You nibble on your plate and just watch. He's animated, this man. Fringe falling over his forehead the more he gestures, blue eyes wide and serious. It's all very endearing.

"Sorry," he says suddenly. "I'm being so rude. You don't want to hear about all of this, do you?"

You smile at him. "I don't mind. I came over for some company more than anything else."

He sinks back into the couch a little, hand running through his hair again. "Well, lucky for me that you did," he says.

Your face feels hot and you don't want to mistake this for flirting if it's not. He is a world-famous athlete, after all, but here you are on the couch next to him. "Lucky for you, indeed."

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

This is not how you saw your life going, but maybe that's just the nature of it. Big moments happen just the same as small ones and we have to handle them regardless. The trajectory of your life shifted just a little bit when you sat down on someone else's couch to watch a football match with a stranger.

Because that stranger -- George -- is now much more than that. He asked for your number that day before he had to leave earlier than everyone else, and has been speaking to you ever since. Texts, phone calls, FaceTimes. And, when he's not driving hundreds of miles an hour halfway across the world, he likes to spend time with you.

They're dates, you know they are. But things are still casual, immensely so. Coffee, dinner, long walks through the park. It's probably past due that you ask him what he'd like out of this, but your friends tell you to just have fun for the time being. You've learned a lot about him in the last month or so, both from him directly and by doing your research.

You'd watched a few Grand Prix before meeting him but not with any kind of rapt attention. Now, obviously, you watch with purpose. See him zip around the track, read his radio messages, hope desperately that he'll be alright. He's a big mix of things, George Russell. Witty but determined, thorough but reactionary, polite but intense. You want to keep getting to know him on a personal level and measure that up to how he appears to the world.

Today, you're on one of those long walks. George is recounting the last race at your request. It's always more interesting to hear him talk about what happened than watching it, though you're really growing to love that part, too.

It's a bit chilly and he's got a scarf on in addition to a nondescript hat pulled down low over his eyes. You're used to this by now, though you wish you could see his face more fully.

"And then -- well, I'm sure you saw this bit -- he turned right into me like I wasn't even there!"

"But you avoided it," you remind him. "I saw that, too." A cold wind blows down the path and you shiver a bit.

"You alright?" he asks. "Nippy, huh?" He stops walking and turns to you, his huge hands coming to rest on your shoulders before he rubs them up and down your arms.

"A bit," you agree, a little breathless. God, you really need to talk to him about what this is. You're thinking about him all the time, which is a bit of a nuisance, as you're not sure he's feeling the same. But, a small voice in your head tells you, you can't be too far off in thinking that it might be based on the way he's looking at you right now.

Even under the cap, you can see the soft set of his brow, the way his eyes are shining. The gentle quirk up of his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he let you?

George stops his warming efforts, catching your hands in his. "Better?"

All you can do is nod. He grins, looking a bit too pleased, and starts walking again, you in tow. This is something else you've learned about him -- he really can be a cheeky bastard. He must have more than some idea as to how he affects you and enjoys it. It's somewhere between a game and a challenge.

You're thinking about ways you can get him back, ways you can flirt mercilessly. His hand is in yours and he's half a step ahead of you when suddenly your fingers are ripped from his and you find yourself on your hands and knees with a gasp.

George is immediately there with you.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I--" You're a bit too stunned to say anything. George rarely curses, which is funny given how you met, but it unsettles you a little bit as much as it warms you. "I think I tripped?"

"Let me see your hands," he says, gently tugging at your wrists with his long fingers. He sucks on his teeth when he sees your palms. "Not too bad, but a little scratched."

You rearrange yourself so you're flat on your bum, legs in front of you. Your hands might be alright but your knees are another story. The fabric of your jeans isn't ripped but you can see the bloodstains already.

"Oh," you say. You look up at George, feeling a bit pathetic. "This is embarrassing."

He scoffs. "No, it's not," he says. "I do think we should get you cleaned up, though."

"We can go to my place," you suggest. The sting sets in a little more, but mingles with your chagrin and you just set your jaw. "Help me up?"

"Brave girl," George says. He presses his lips to the base of your wrist and stands, tugging you up as he goes. "Have you got first aid things at your flat?"

You nod, running through the contents of your bathroom in your mind. It occurs to you that George has not been to your place before, and you did not mentally prepare yourself to bring him there today.

George gently says your name. "Let's get a cab, shall we?"

It takes no time at all to flag one down. George removes his hat in what you can clearly see as an effort to get the cabbie to hurry along a bit, but it seems to work. He takes one look at you, one more at George, and steps on it.

"Let me get your belt," George mutters, making quick work of the buckle.

"I don't think I've ever worn a seatbelt in a cab in my life, George," you reply. He just pats your thigh.

"Think we've had enough injuries for one day, don't you?"

George and the cabbie chat about the race season, about how hot it really is in Singapore, about one of George's recent podiums. He keeps you tucked into his side the whole time -- he's ignored his own seatbelt, you notice -- hand on your thigh. You keep your palms turned up on your knees and wonder how on earth you got here.

The city flies by and you lean your head on his shoulder. You can feel something shifting between you, something clicking into place that wasn't entirely settled before. It's scary, it's exciting, it's big. It's something you're going to have to talk about.

George pays the driver in some large bills and helps you out of the cab and up the steps of your building.

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

"Pardon my reach," he jokes, and lightly rests on palm on your hip and slides the other into your pocket to find them. He tugs the keyring out and winks at you before unlocking the door. Up the stairs, into the flat. Shoes toed off, coats on the hook after George helps you out of yours.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," you tell him. He clicks his tongue.

"We don't want blood on this nice coat of yours, do we?"

You roll your eyes. George glances around your flat and smiles. "This is very you."

Dishes on the counter, the pillows a mess on the couch, your books and trinkets on every flat surface -- you suppose he's right.

"Thank you?" you say. He taps your chin with his knuckle.

"It feels like a home, I mean." Your cheeks feel warm and your heart sighs. God, the things he says.

"Oh," you breathe. "That's kind."

"And does this home have a first aid kit?" The reminder brings the dull sting of your scraped skin back to the forefront of your mind.

"Bathroom cabinet," you tell him. George nods.

"I'll get that. Why don't you change into something loose so I can get to your knees?"

In your room, you tug carefully tug on some sweatpants, mindful of your palms, and let yourself marvel at how today has gone. You expected to have George here someday, but certainly not like this. Will he want to see your bedroom? You shove some dirty laundry into the hamper and thank past you for making the bed this morning.

"I think you should sit on the counter," George calls. "Whenever you're ready."

You pad out to meet him in socked feet. It's quite the sight, him in your kitchen. He's bent over your sink, washing his hands. His sweater has been tossed over a chair and you can see the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

"Do you need help getting up?" he asks. You nod. Together, you get yourself on the counter, making you about eye level.

"Hello," you say. His hat is gone, too, so his fringe falls across his forehead in slightly curled strands. When you've cleaned yourself up, maybe you'll work up the courage to run your hand through them.

"Hello yourself. Right hand, please." You hold out your palm and George gets to work. He cleans it, getting all the bits from your skin, and then uses an alcohol wipe.

"Do you have a special interest in first aid, or something?" you ask to distract yourself from the sting. His thumb strokes your pulse point as he works.

"I guess you get beat up a bit in karting when you're young," he says. He wraps one palm in gauze and moves onto the other. "I suppose i just like knowing how to take care of people."

"God," you groan. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

He looks at you then, hair falling into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh," he smirks. "Plenty, darling." He finishes up on your other palm and holds it in his for a moment longer than you expect. Then he slowly brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the bandage.

You might gasp, You're not entirely sure, eyes glued to his lips like nothing else exists. Then he kisses the other palm. Your gaze flicks up and George is looking right at you.

"Knees," he says, voice a little hoarse. "Alright?"

"Alright," you breathe. You stick one leg out just to see what he'll do. You're learning that he rises to the occasion, and that's exactly what happens. He cups your ankle, places your foot on his thigh, and slides your sweatpants up above your joint.

"That's gnarly," he says, breaking the tension. You laugh and tap his leg with your other foot. "You ready?"

"I'm ready."

He makes quick work on it. One hand on your calf, the other gently cleaning and bandaging. The silence is comfortable, familiar, though you've not been in this situation before. It's not until George is almost done with your other knee that he speaks.

"You know," He says, lightly. "If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask. The tripping wasn't entirely necessary."

"George!" you gasp. He squeezes your calf.

"I'm just saying, darling."

He ties off the gauze and rolls down your pant leg. You widen your knees and he steps between them immediately, hands resting gently on your thighs. It's absolutely electric -- going from shy, appropriate touches to being in your flat together, his hands all over you. How are you going to go back?

Maybe you can't.

George's eyes rake over your face. You inhale his exhales, feeling them on your lips. His pupils dilate.

"What is this, George?" you whisper. His fingers press into your thighs a little harder.

"Well," he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly. He is not dissuaded, does not back away. He must know that this is hard for you -- his life is so different from yours. As it is, you avoid social media so you don't see pictures of you splashed across gossip accounts. It's impossible to totally stay away from it but you try, because you really like being with him.

"Shall I tell you what it is for me?" George says.

You nod.

He cups your face in his hands, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under your eyes.

"Every second I am not with you I am thinking about when I'll see you next," he says. "I store up things to tell you and take photos to show you and I have a bag full of things I've bought you but been too afraid to give you. Beautiful things, things that remind me of you."

"George--"

"I worry about fucking up your life," he continues, and you fall silent. "This is a lot. I am a lot. My life is not simple, and you've already seen that. But I want you in it. I want you in it however you want to be there, though I have my suggestions. I promise that if you let me, I'll treat you so well, because you deserve everything, and --"

Your heart is going to explode if he goes on any longer, so you close the gap between you and kiss him. Finally.

It's just the press of your lips against his for a few seconds, your eyes fluttering shut, before George catches up to what's happening and angles your faces a little bit to make it deeper. Your bandaged hands rest on his elbows and you swallow a sound from deep in his throat, something that lights a fire in your belly.

"Blimey," George says, leaning your foreheads together.

"What, no curse for me?"

His eyes sparkle and he wrinkles his nose at you. "Fuck," he says. "I've been thinking about that for weeks."

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "That's more like it."

BLOODY HELL

What the fuck was that? Is he serious? Keep focused, George. This is fucking ridiculous. Head down.

It's a bad day. Not as bad as it could be -- George does not end up in the wall. But he ends up way further down the pack than he should, barely scraping together a few points. It's the car and everyone knows it. The bouncing, the drag, the understeer. A showing far too poor for this late in the season.

And George is pissed. It's not often that you see him this way -- he's fairly levelheaded, even when things get tough. Something about him causes conflict to lull, things to fall into place, but even that can't fix the silver arrow.

You slip out of the garage during the last lap to sit in his driver's room and wait.

This isn't your first race. Far from it, by now. Things got official halfway through the season after that day in your flat, and you've been coming to as many as you can. It's a rush, really, to see him work. Scarier than anything, but when it's good? It's amazing. You love the energy of the garage and everyone seems to have taken to you, too.

So much so that they know to send George right to his room before the media pen so you can calm him down.

You sit on the bench and wait.

He comes in, closing the door firmly but never slamming it, and sighs. All the tension melts from his body and he looks defeated. Sweaty, annoyed, and defeated.

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

You love how George looks after a race. Hair a mess from his helmet, skin beaded with sweat. He unzips his race suit and lets it hang at his hips and you can see the outline of his muscles through his fireproofs. It's genuinely swoonworthy, even with his visibly bad mood.

"Are you alright?" you ask. He shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and winces.

"Bloody hell," he curses. "My back is killing me."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he says automatically. "You're perfect just as you are."

It's a reflex he has -- not to ask for things. You're still working it out, poking and prodding to find the cracks. Maybe, with time, he'll loosen this grip he has on his desire to make your life as comfortable and wonderful as possible without thinking of himself. There are moments when it's best to just let him fuss, but right now you think you can push back a little.

"George," you sigh. "Come on."

He hides his face behind a sweat towel for a breath, then tosses it aside. "Alright," he says. "Just sit with me for a bit."

You scoot over on the bench and he flops next to you, head back against the wall and eyes closed. His hand fumbles around for yours, pinching your thigh when he overshoots, which makes you laugh. He cracks a smile and opens one eye just enough to see your grin before settling back into his rest.

He breathes deeply, fingers entwined with yours. The line of his jaw is pronounced in the awful lighting of the room and the shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. A few more races and then he can rest. What will you do in the off season? Maybe a vacation. Hopefully a vacation. You imagine George in swim trunks on a beach somewhere, dozing in the sand. Rubbing sun tan lotion on his back and his shoulders and his nose, reading books for hours until he convinces you to run into the water. Lazy days on a balcony or in a bed with all the windows open, never being far from each other --

Someone knocks on the door.

"Christ," George mutters. "Let's ignore it."

"You need to go to the pen, darling," you whisper back. He squeezes your hand and presses your legs together.

"Just a few more minutes," he says. "Eventually they'll just come in."

"If you say so."

You press a kiss to his tacky cheek and lean your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

George takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says.

The words stretch into the silence that comes after, the moments it takes for you to process it. They fill the small room, sneak their way into your bloodstream, your lungs, all the way to your heart.

Part of you is waiting for the follow-up. I know it's too early, I know it's a lot, You don't have you say it back. But George doesn't deal in excuses. He feels it, so he says it.

You lift your head to look at him and find him already staring at you. Not expectant, just looking to look.

"I love you, George," you say.

He grins bigger than you've ever seen, bigger than after your first kiss, than the days when he's on the podium.

Someone knocks on the door again.

"Oh, piss off," he mutters and leans in to kiss you.

[vinelark]

I've been going through ur fic recs and after binging through "A Meditation On Railroading" and "The Long Way Home", I'm now obsessed with Jason and Tim. Something about hating each other but not really, all the bad blood and hurt and still becoming brothers bc how couldn't they

I wanted to ask if you know any other fics that are about them?

Thanks! :)

i had to make a real effort to keep this (relatively) short or it would just be hundreds of fics long. here is a very incomplete list of old favs and recent reads! i've definitely rec'd some of them already, but i think others are new to my fic rec tag.   you already mentioned a meditation on railroading and the long way home; i’m linking them again here for anyone else who wants them, because they are two of my favs and would kick off this list if you hadn’t already read them.   robin!jason era   Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding one of the most impressive things a story can do, imo, is pull off a really believable kid/teen pov—this does it twice, for both tim and jason, and it’s one of my fav rereads.

Like a Hinge, Like a Wing by @bonesbuckleup i’ll always be reccing this one; it’s one of my favorite slow-burn hurt/comfort fics, and the tim & jason relationship in this context is very sweet + compelling as they deal with some rough edges unique to this story.

1-800-ROBIN by spqr jason volunteers for a mental health hotline, and this leads to bonding with tim. this has some incredibly tender moments and a great robin!jason pov.   red hood!jason era

cake is a four letter word by @sonosvegliato jason just wants to make a loaf of bread. then tim shows up. i love when a writer nails tim in peak Annoying Mode (❤️).

geolocation by @envysparkler i love a good forced-to-work-together oneshot, and this one gets bonus points for the sheer amount of “actions speak louder than words” going on with every single thing jason does.

Tim in a Bottle by @coyote-nebula (wip) angst and humor galore; tim and jason and their giant pile of unresolved issues all get locked in a walk-in freezer together. need i go on?

the trolley problem by @silk-scarlet-ribbons this is—i say with full appreciation—an absolute pangfest. jason is taken by an enemy, and that enemy has kidnapped a "random civilian" (you guessed it: tim) for leverage to get jason to do what they want. (also check out requiem for the forsaken by the same author, which is the fic that finally got my best friend to start caring about robins with me.)

Short-Term Memory Loss (Leads to Long-Term Sibling) by Vamillepudding a bittersweet + hopeful story in which red hood!jason gets temporarily whammed back to robin!jason, and bonds with tim.

Say Uncle by @megaerakles an incredibly fun twist on tim’s fake uncle with layers upon layers of identity shenanigans.

of crime lords and literature by @adelfie a wonderfully angsty, plotty fic in which tim ends up in danger as himself, and—after a very rocky start—jason is somehow the one who rescues him.

unequipped by Valkirin there’s a lot of jason saving tim on this list, and this story is a delightful reversal of that trope. red hood’s in trouble, and tim shows up to bail him out.

For All The Just Alike Birds by @sunflowersandink tim breaks his arm, and jason makes it his problem. featuring some excellent begrudgingly worried jason pov!

alternate universe

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (wip) i adore this jason-joins-the-family late AU; the central robin!tim & sort-of-civilian!jason dynamic is so compelling. marked as a wip, but currently leaves off in a very satisfying place!

[hope-vs-disbear]

My new personal theory for why isagi has become Like That since the match against barous team (i remember three team names and refuse to learn any more) is because he misses bachira as much as we do

No genuinely the biggest changes to his personality came after his match against fc barcha (and manshine but that was more reo going back to his so so ex focused To Me)

I'm convinced this man just misses his boyfriend

He hasn't been able to call bachira perfect or be impressed by his growth or get into shenanigans with him in Ages

Frankly I think playing a match or practicing with bachira could fix him

That's why he's trying to so hard to connect to other men and failing miserably bro is desperate and cannot replace bachiras whimsy and general freakiness (in the most positive way possible he is my beloved little freak)

He's loosing his mind a little being away from bachira for so long and that's the theory I'm going with and I refuse to let it go

If the manga won't give me bachisagi crumbs I'll make my own through sheer delusion

Thank you for coming to my crackpot theory time

[missshinazugawa]

I normally don't post anything about controversial subjects, but this time as one of the member in Love and Deepspace community, I wanted to speak up about this horrible issues going on currently.

I've been in the LnD community for a while, from February 2024 till now, it is sad that CN server is spreading hate about Sylus just because they think Sylus 'plagarized' Zayne. While in reality, I know damn well they most of them came back to the game BECAUSE OF SYLUS

Be fucking for real, no ML has been plagarizing any ML. I'm Malaysian Chinese, even me myself felt so embarassed for yall CHINESE PLAYERS to spread hate about one of our beloved. Imagine how devastated Sylus will be if he's real and when he knows this.

Fuck yall mean Sylus doesn't deserve to be famous because he was released late?? This is something that an uneducated people sounds like. I don't see yall hating on Caleb? Cuz tell me why yall want your ADOPTIVE BROTHER to be one of your love interest, its fucking weird. Not to be racist, but yall Chinese glorify that indirect sibling relationship as romance so much.

I will stand for Sylus bcuz he loves us just as much CN Sylus fans loves him. Imagine it's your fave ML, Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier getting hatred, would you guys want that? Seriously isn't Confucius our ancestors? What did he taught us? Yall should be ashame. TRULY AND REALLY, REALLY AND TRULY ASHAMED.

Sylus is the fucking reason LnD blows up. Yes, before he was released, we thought he is the villain in the storyline, but as we play through the game, we do realized he's actually a sweetheart, he is our beloved. But no, yall clearly wanna headcanon him as a red flag, he's a bad guy, he doesn't love MC. Excuse me, are we playing the same game?

It is clear, as we play the game, our first impression on different LIs is different, Sylus looks like he's a bad guy, a villain that likes forced love but actually someone who will do anything to us, no forcing us.

Zayne looks cold outside, but deep down he cared for MC so much, he's willing to love us in every single universe no matter Astra cursed him to not love us. He's warm inside.

Rafayel carefree and often bratty and petulant personality on the surface, but when he's with MC, his beloved, he can be childlish, whiny and all pouty.

Xavier looks like an honest boy, a golden retriever,acts clueless but he's the most possesive LI ever.

From all of this, didn't we already know, or obviously know that all LI have something beyond the surface? Don't villainize any of them for fuck sake. Pls use the brain.

No one is forcing anyone consume other's content, if you love Zayne, then look at Zayne's content, but if you love Sylus too, you as a Zayne main can go look at Sylus's content too, IT IS THAT SIMPLE.

Sylus didn't ruin us, as a Zayne main before, I can assure you, he didnt ruin me. It's just that I prefer Sylus because he is my type, I love his reassurance on Mc's insecurities, I wish I have someone like Sylus beside me, I still love Zayne regardless. It's called OTOME GAME for a REASON.

Please don't give up on defending our beloved as Sylus's fans. We love him and seems like we are the only one that knows him deeply.

If you're a player in LnD, we should stand together, no matter which character we love.

fuck CN antis

Humans doesnt want each other to enjoy A GAME in peace clearly speaks about how childlish we are as mankind. I don't see yall fighting for women's right that much since yall CN people likes Trump.

The post in the ss is from X user @sub_textually

[ebenelephant]

Look, I think you're misconstruing some of my points and since this is reaching way farther than I wanted I would like to clarify for a second. This was kind of a bit of a rant post which I didn't expect people other than like 4 mutuals to... see? So as you can imagine I wasn't exactly my best articulated. Some of my points have definitely come across wrong, so to try and explain what I mean a little better:

I'm not saying we should see more flashbacks to Tom's life. This is a criticism I have of this plot point not being thought through, more than anything. It tells us something other that what was probably intended because you get the impression that Rowling didn't really consider the wider implications of what she was saying in the time period it was set. I'm not suggesting this should be delved deeper into, I'm just suggesting that it wasnt the best thought through.

With the Weasleys I just messed up the timeline on this one. I do genuinely have issues with some of the portrayal of the Weasleys which I won't get into, but this one is my mistake.

The Snape one is more of a personal gripe. My tongue in cheek remark about being "surprised you caught onto that" is in reference to the fact that I have heard/seen multiple people just glossing over that context to his life entirely - either because they missed it of because it was too minor for them to care.

My issue with the Hermione thing isn't actually that she obliviated her parents – as you say, this makes sense with her character – but rather how underutilised they are. We meet the parents and guardians of other, less important characters when they're thematically and narratively relevant, and given how important Hermione's status as a muggleborn is in the books you would think they would be both. It always seemed a weird choice to me that her parents are practically non-entities, spoken of occasionally but never seen. It's the show-don't-tell thing: we are told that Hermione loves her parent a lot, and of course we know this to be true, but the biggest time they are really relevant is when she obliviates them. Even if Harry had just seen them once, maybe sending Hermione to platform 9¾, and had seen them in contrast to the Dursleys this would have given them more weight. Hermione is distraught, but we as the reader are much less emotionally involved because we have no idea who these people are.

The Lily point honestly feels like a bad faith arguement, because she was never just 'the main character's long dead mum', she was the person who saved him, who made him the chosen one, who is referenced throughout the series, and who is directly related to the actions of multiple characters. I would literally just like consistent characterisation for her, because the way she is spoken about doesn't align with the ways we see her acting in the few scenes she has, and even in those scenes she is somewhat contradictory. This is never addressed by Harry the way it's addressed when he learns the negative qualities of his father – though in a book targeted at a 9-12 audience you would certainly expect it to be. This makes me think, again: oversight. Kids books have to guide the reader somewhat, and this aspect doesn't really do that. Could've been a great addition to that "nobody's perfect" theme JKR had going, but wasn't executed in a way properly accessible to a nine year old as opposed to other points in the series.

thinking again about jk rowling being a bad writer. like, we all know about the massive flaws in her worldbuilding and i hope by now it's clear she's a bigot on basically every front. (hello, regular reminder that she doesn't even actually like women.) but like. she's especially good at dropping bits of lore and then those not being relevant in the fucking slightest. riddle was told to go home to his orphanage in london during what would have very much been the blitz? whatever. the weasley's are so strapped for cash that they're sending their son to school with a potentially dangerous broken wand? of course they're spending their lottery winnings on visiting their adult son in egypt, what else would they do. snape grew up in what was likely a dying northern industrial town with abusive/neglectful parents, largely cut off from the magical world? almost impressed you caught on to that, with how little it's expanded on. yes hermione has a supposedly good relationship with both her parents, no we're not going to show you it at all, yes she's going to wipe they're memories like it's nothing. lily evans is the moral compass of james and basically the most important person in the series but fuck you if you want to actually know anything about her lmao. even what little we see is wildly inconsistent.

[lullabyes22-blog]

I was already super impressed with Forward but Never Forget for the way it handles each character. After Season 2, I'm even MORE impressed. Your understanding of all their personalities was already perfect, but seeing the way canon puts its characters through trauma, and how it changes them (Jayce becoming disillusioned and breaking up with Mel....Viktor going back to Zaun to fulfill Sky's dream.... Jinx becoming suicidal and losing her identity) really gives me faith that you'll make this amazing story even more amazing. I don't know how, but you make the canon characters even better.

I hope you keep doing what you're doing because I don't think I'll ever get tired of reading a new chapter, or your meta on tumblr. You are truly a master of both fanfiction and canon lore. Thank you.

Fhfdsfd

That means a lot. Thank you 😭😭😭

I have...opinions.... on certain narrative choices in S2, and they involve the breakneck pacing rather than the character trajectory itself. Maybe at some point I'll make a post about it.

But I'm so glad you're enjoying FnF, and hope you stick around for all the drama and trauma to come. It truly is its own AU now, and canon says that's ok💖

[crownmemes]

Relationship Advice Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences for those in need of relationship advice, and those that like to give it. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Do you think I should ask him to marry me?"

"Men are like dogs - they like being stroked, but for God's sake, don't let them hump your leg!"

"There is one infallible method of indicating to a girl that you love her: don't eat any dinner tonight."

"I'm uncomfortable about sex."

"Give and take is the foundation for any working relationship."

"How are you ever going to find your soulmate if you won't go and talk to anyone?"

"It's important to keep eye contact with your date."

"Once he's got whatever he needs, he'll cast you aside."

"Even love has a dark side."

"I love this ship. I have from the first moment I saw it."

"Falling in love is like jumping off a cliff; you just have to believe and let go."

"Soppiness is at the very heart of a successful love letter!"

"Whatever gave you the impression that I was remotely interested in your private life?"

"Yearning won't make it happen."

"You don't have to fall in love at first sight, you know."

"What if he won't forgive me?"

"Can I give you a little advice about women?"

"She's just what you need - someone who can see right through you!"

"The trick is not to think about it."

"Don't let love make you out to be a fool."

"You can love someone and not like them."

"I suppose you're going to suggest I try online dating next?"

"How do you convince someone that you're not cheating on them?"

"Marriages don’t fail because couples get bored. They fail because, while they’re dating, people pretend to be the person they think their partner wants and then, well, there’s only so long you can keep that up."

"You probably don't believe that love at first sight exists, but I assure you, it does."

"Just because you say something to a person doesn't necessarily mean you mean it."

"Men often say that, but they don't mean it."

"This is just you projecting your own intimacy issues on everybody else!"

"They say that you can't love two people, but they're wrong."

"Never underestimate the female of the species. It won't end well."

"All you need to do is love him. You can figure out the rest as you go."

"Just tell her how you feel! If you won't, then I will!"

"All relationships hit speedbumps."

[fereldanwench]

the assumption that anyone who is dissatisfied with lucanis' romance expected it to be like z*vran's is hilarious in my case bc i could never get into z*vran's romance specifically bc he comes on way too strong lmao

i knew 3 things about lucanis going into the game (besides the big stuff, like being an assassin possessed by a demon): he likes coffee, he's supposed to be a little aloof and socialyl awkward, and mary kirby tweeted that she wrote him specifically to be "the sole bisexual disaster" of the crew

so i went into this full expecting a slow burn with him being afraid of his feelings because of the possession and The Horrors™️ he's been through in general

but instead spite is like the third-wheel comic relief half the time and in lieu of slowly building tension we just have to wait longer to trigger fewer scenes lmao

and there very much seems to be missing content. i think there are official artboards floating around that show a sexy lake scene with him that was cut, so that's great, but just looking at what's in the game gives that impression. like after he gets his first talon title, he says something like "i have other plans for tonight" in a low voice when you ask if he wants to leave in the middle of the celebration--i thought we were finally gonna get a proper smooch at the very least! but no! nothing!

and i took this screenshot earlier today when i think i kinda just had it. finally do get a 'confirmed-romantic-date' scene with him and he just comes and stands next to you while spite drinks ??? his coffee

THIS IS VERY SILLY!!!!

anyway

i might come back to his romance later now that i know what I'm in for, but i have been very disappointed. all signs pointed to a character and romance that is 100% my jam, but instead i just got a really disjointed experience that left me wondering if i borked his romance until, like, the beginning of the 3rd act when i had already committed 60-70 hours to this run

[avatar-of-pride]

"Oh, you want to talk about things that hurt people? You want to talk about get out of jail free cards, Prince of Devildom?! I'm not using it as an excuse and every damn time I try to explain myself that is what I get! 'Lucifer stop using excuses!' 'Lucifer you have to try to be a better person!' 'Lucifer stop trying to defend yourself!" Lucifer mocks. "When all I'm trying to do is give a FUCKING EXPLANATION FOR MY BEHAVIOR!"

"I'm a terrible person! Don't you think I know that? I'll push anyone aside, hurt anyone, just to climb another rung on the latter of respectability! And fuck me because of it! But God damn it, can't I, for once in my fucking life, do something and not have everyone up my ass for it!"

Lucifer breathes heavily as he pauses his rant. He runs a hand through his hair. "All I want is to be allowed, just once, to act like myself. But I haven't been able to in thousands of years. Because of my pride and my brothers and Michael and Metatron and you! Every day I have to impress you! I have to be good enough! I have to be perfect! Perfect Lucifer so that the prince can go run around doing jack shit all day because his dad left and his mom died! Well, fuck. You. I'm tired of being a parent to a man who hasn't grown up! I'm tired of being responsible at all!! I just want to-" Lucifer groans in outrage and slams his hands on his desk. "I don't know!" He slumps into a chair and rests his head against his desk.

We need to talk, Lucifer. Whether you're busy or not.

- @https-diavolo

…why

[emeritusemeritus]

hi hun, i have a story idea for you, reader and fred weasley if that's alright. reader is pregnant and is due to have her baby on new year's eve but she goes into early labour alone after an argument with fred and gives birth on christmas eve just as fred arrives to make up with her⁷

Hi Anon! Wow when I tell you this has consumed me for days, it’s taken so long to write but I just couldn’t stop! Side note, the name of Fred and Reader’s child is a name I’ve loved since I was a kid and finally got to use it in a fic where it fit perfectly. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: pregnancy and childbirth. Graphic descriptions of pain and labour but not of actual birth. Fast labour, precipitous labour. Reader has the pregnancy emotions. arguments and shouting, minor swearing. Reader hits Fred in the arm. Molly Weasley being the OG midwife. I may have some unresolved birth trauma of my own apparently. Happy ending I promise. Not beta read or spell checked.

Word count: 5.5k

Hark now hear the angels sing [Fred Weasley]

"And... that is the last one, we are officially ready for Christmas!"

You beam as you turn towards Fred, having tied the last bow on the last gift you had to wrap. You look at the pile of gifts and smile, partially because it meant that you no longer had to wrap a single other thing but mostly because it was a stack of gifts for your loved ones. You'd be going to the Burrow tomorrow for Christmas Eve to spend a big family Christmas back at the Weasley home and had made sure that not a single person would be missed in the gift exchange.

It was December 23rd and you couldn't be more excited for the holidays. It had snowed overnight making everything seem so much more magical and it would be the last Christmas as a couple before the little one arrived.

With one final proud look towards your pile, you gather the scissors and tape into the little bag to store them and tried to stand up from your place on the floor, realising quickly that it probably wasn't the best idea to wrap the gifts on the floor at 39 weeks pregnant. You wince at the sharp pain that runs down the length of your back at any form of movement and momentarily swallow your pride as you call out your husband.

"Little help?" You asked Fred who was sat on the sofa in your little home, tinkering with a string of lights that just didn't seem to want to work. He looks up and starts chuckling at your pathetic attempts at getting up and stretches his hand out for you to take. He lifts you with ease, something you're very impressed by factoring in your current size and giggle when he places a delicate kiss onto your nose. His hand wraps around your waist, his palm pressed against the curve of your belly with his thumb stroking the stretched skin through your T-shirt.

"Did we wrap anything for Fred jr?" He asks, smirking at you with those mischief filled eyes that you love so much.

"No. Mainly because there is, and will be, no such person."

"Oh come on sweetheart, don't you want a tiny little me running around?" His eyebrows jump up and down for effect, fingers still lovingly stroking your bump.

"I'm hoping for a George," you deadpan, breaking into a laugh when he suddenly pulls you gently towards him by tickling your side. "Anyway, she's a girl."

"Oh yeah? Mother's intuition?" Fred teases, his eyes gazing over your bump as if he's trying to see something that's not there, like an obvious clue of what gender your baby will be.

"Something like that," you smile, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his smiling lips.

Suddenly, you pull away from Fred with a brief push to his chest, showing your panicked face and the tears that are starting to well in your eyes, all glimmer of happiness gone.

"Princ-."

"I didn't get her anything!" You suddenly cry out, cutting Fred off as he notices the rather sudden change in your demeanour, your voice trembling as the feeling of complete grief consumes you. "What if she comes early and we didn't get her anything? She'll think that we don't love her! Or she'll think that Santa forgot her!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, your breaths coming quicker and quicker as guilt and shame fill your mind. What kind of mother doesn't buy her own baby a Christmas gift?

"Between the cot, the pram and the clothes we've bought for them, plus not to mention the entire house we bought after finding out they were on the way, I'd say they've had enough."

The glare that you shoot at Fred is enough to silence him instantly, the venomous look in your eyes rivalling his own mothers as he quickly realised this is not a time to make jokes.

"This little one isn't due until after Christmas," he says with a much gentler tone now, placing his hand back onto your bump. "They don't need a Christmas present, they'll already have everything they need when they pop out." He regrets his choice of words the second your eyes shoot up to his, knowing that 'pop' made it sound like an easy thing to do, which he'd been warned from almost every female member of his family that it was far from easy.

"When our baby's born," he says, trying again. "They'll have me and their beautiful mummy. And a whole family that loves them, what else could they need?"

Surprisingly, his words do offer comfort and a wave of relief washes over you as you feel calmed by the idea that the baby really did have everything they would need.

"Sorry," you say, feeling a fresh wave of shame taking over you at your slight overreaction, but Fred steps in again to give you a tight squeeze.

"Already the best mum," he whispers, rocking you gently as you stand holding each other, the Christmas lights illuminating the room in a magical display. You feel a little wiggle in your tummy and smile to yourself, your hand slipping down to cradle the spot where you could feel your little one stretching and rolling.

Everything was set for your arrival at the Burrow in the morning, the suitcase was packed with a mixture of your clothes and Fred's, everything down to your spare toothbrush. The gifts were wrapped and the cookies you'd baked earlier that mornings had been placed into a cute metal tin with a bow, placed on the table beside the front door so that you wouldn't forget them.

"Want me to load the car now?" Fred asks, poking his head around the bedroom door.

"I can help," you offer, only to be shut down a moment later by your husband.

"You will do not such thing," he says firmly, though his eyes are soft. "You are going to park your gorgeous little bum down onto the nearest, softest surface and rest."

"But."

"Doctor's orders princess," he winks, making you smile and relent, though you were hardly going to turn down the offer of sitting down for a while before bed, knowing you'd have an early start in the morning. Your back was twinging with discomfort, a crampy feeling radiating between your pelvis and your hips that made you curse yourself for the stupid idea of wrapping presents on a hard floor.

You walked downstairs to grab a warm drink and sit on the sofa with the hope of a warm fire and a Christmas film, stopping to peek out of the Christmas light filled window to watch Fred trying to fit all the presents in the boot of the car. Since you were so far into your pregnancy, almost every magical transportation option was now deemed unsafe, leaving you with only a handful of options for reaching the Burrow. Percy had very graciously secured a ministry car for you to borrow over the holidays, a fact that he was insistent upon repeating whenever it was even vaguely mentioned in conversation, including the precarious nature of securing the car during the ministry's busiest season. Regardless of your brother in laws self importance, you were thankful for his gesture and though the drive would be long, you were actually looking forward to it. You'd prepped snacks, both muggle and magical, had ensured to the point of obsession that the radio was fixed upon the muggle Christmas station so that your entire drive down would be filled with only the cheesiest Christmas songs and you'd even prepped some hot chocolate for the drive, placing two matching Christmas travel cups beside the kettle ready to make just before you left.

A loud crash pulled your attention right back to Fred as you watched him scrambling onto his feet, an array of once neatly wrapped packages on the floor around him. He looks around nervously before catching sight of you in the window, eyes widening, before he attempts to pick up the dropped presents.

Instantly you were moving to the door, your mind spiralling at the idea that they might be broken or wet from the snow, or if Fred was hurt in the skirmish.

"Are you okay?" You ask slightly breathlessly as you scramble to the door, trying to place your shoes on as quickly as you could.

"Sweetheart stay inside, it's icy and you're not coming out here until I can clear it," he says holding up a hand, eyes fixed on your bump as if you accentuate his words.

"What happened?" You ask, trying to steal a glance around his body to look for any damage to the presents that he was slowly picking up, stacking them high in his arms as he attempts to talk to you through a vision blocking stack of presents.

"Well I was trying to balance these ones and the bottom one slipped."

"You can't stack that many! No wonder they bloody fell!" You say, anger simmering under the surface as you watch more and more presents dangerously wobbling in his arms, swaying with the wind and from every movement he makes. "Stop stacking them so high."

"I can do it."

"Obviously you can't!" You snap, feeling the anger rising now from his obvious lack of care to the gifts that you had so painstakingly picked out and wrapped. "What if they're all broken?!"

"They're not all broken," he snarks.

"All? You mean there's broken ones?!" You exclaim, hardly able to push down your anger anymore. You and Fred hardly every argued, but when you did it was almost always a big one that lasted no more than five minutes before you were making up, sometimes longer if he was in the mood to sulk. Uncaring about the ice, you step outside and rush over to the back of the car where Fred continues to pick up the last of the presents from the ground, cringing at what follows when he picks up the very last one.

The telltale sound of damaged box fills your ears at a painfully ironic moment, the sound so obviously being something broken, shattered with the pieces rattling about inside. You gasp as you look upon the misshapen box, seeing the distinctive green wrapping paper all torn and wilted from the snow, knowing instantly what was inside, undoubtedly shattered beyond repair.

You're completely heartbroken at the sight before you and more angry with Fred than you ever remember being.

"You stupid git!" You say, hitting his arm as he turns to you with a look of apologetic shame, though you don't even remotely fall for it, too enraged to give a single thought to his feelings. "I told you that you couldn't carry that many! Now look what you've done!" The box falls from his hands again and lands in a heap on the floor, an ominous rattling crying out all the way down until it crashes upon making contact with the snow.

"It's just a present," he mumbles, trying to downplay the situation as he turns back towards the car, away from your body. His words and aversion to the situation only fuel your anger in the moment, seeing visions of his younger self so uncaring for the consequences of his actions even if it both directly and indirectly affected others.

"It's not just a present you git! It was Fleur's only Christmas present! You have no idea how long it took me to find it," you say, tears welling up in your eyes again as the anger turns to sorrow.'you knew how much she adored snow-globes, something from her childhood that she'd told you about in great detail one night at the Burrow. You'd gone searching around muggle antique stores for something within the brief and had been completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the snowglobe you found for her. It was a little over the budget but you didn't care, knowing how much she would love the beautifully ornate pink and gold filigree on the side, the tiny carousel horses inside that spun around with fine gold glitter covering the beautiful scene. It was decadent and beautiful, and now shattered in a box on your front drive, the glittery water leaking out of a large crack in the box and onto the snow.

"Just give her one of Ginny's," he says defensively, the hint of a shrug ghosting his coat-covered shoulders.

"Oh yeah perfect, because I'm sure she'd love a mug that says Mrs Potter to be!"

You march away from him in a foul mood, stomping your way back into the house as you close the door with a resounding slam, the wreath on the door quivering with the force.

It was the evening before Christmas Eve, you didn't have anything else to give her and you certainly couldn't show up empty handed for only one person, especially one that had become a good friend to you and who had admittedly struggled to fit in with the family at first. You felt wretched and suddenly wanted to stay at home, the idea of going to the Burrow now making you feel physically sick.

You winced as the pain in your back suddenly increased, making you grab ahold of the table beside the door for support as you felt it radiate through your back and settle into your pelvis.

"Look, why don't we just drop by somewhere on the way to mums? See if we can get a replacement." Fred says as he steps through the door, inevitably trailing snow throughout the hallway. You straighten up, recovering from the cramps and turn to him in disbelief, fresh annoyance consuming you again.

"It can't be replaced it was antique!"

"Well something similar then," he mumbles. You don't even fight his words, realising that he didn't have any semblance of idea of how hard you'd worked to make everything perfect for Christmas.

"You haven't even apologised," you huff, kicking off your shoes and wandering towards the kitchen, cringing at the pain that still remains in your lower back.

"What for?!" He asks, sounding mystified. "Hardly my fault I slipped, ice is icy funnily enough."

"Oh piss off Fred, you know it wasn't the ice," you spit out, reaching for a mug as you flick the kettle on again.

"I've had enough of this," he says angrily, marching right back out of the hall towards the front door that slams shut behind him. The silence that follows is almost suffocating as you stand looking at the place he stood only moments before.

The tears flowed freely now, though the gut wrenching sobs had stopped eventually. It had been around half an hour since your argument with Fred when you walked over to the door to attempt to reconcile, not wanting the stupid argument to ruin the last night in your home before tomorrows journey. It was getting late and you wanted to go to bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally and knew that stopping off somewhere tomorrow for a replacement gift for Fleur would only make your wake up call earlier. You sucked in a sharp breath when you stood up from the sofa, feeling a sharp pain shoot right up your pelvis and down your leg right to your toes, the cramping immediately resuming. You let out a few steady breaths and grabbed hold of your bump as if to help calm the pain and waddled towards the door.

When you saw that the car was no longer outside, with no sign of Fred anywhere and only tyre marks in the snow as proof, you knew instantly that he had left. Tears began to prickle at your eyes and you closed the door slowly with a weak shove, the tears coming once again. Fred had never left during an argument, had never just upped and decided to flee. You felt miserably guilty for your overreaction, even if it did seem deserved, and wished more than anything that you could just fix it and go to bed.

You went to make another cup of tea, needing the warmth and the comfort from the drink, the fire having long since died and the room feeling uncommonly chilly. A sharp pain suddenly radiated through your lower abdomen, like a crushing pain that tightened around your hips like a belt that was too small and you gasped, clutching hold of the counter as you waited for it to disappear. During your scramble to reach out for something solid to rest upon, the mug had been knocked to the side and you watched as your favourite mug tumbled to the floor, splintering at your feet into little ceramic shards.

The pain was increasing rather than disappearing and you felt the tightness all over your bump now. When it finally began to abate after a few seconds, your legs felt wobbly and you felt shaken, heart pounding and breathing unsteady as you tried to calm yourself. You barely managed to make it over to the sofa when the pain started again, radiating through your body with increasing intensity that felt like a wave slow building until it crashed upon the sand. You gripped the arm of the sofa as the apex of the pain consumed your body again, this time lasting even longer than before.

When the pain peaked, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the floor in front of the sofa, you realised with a sheer sense of panic that you were completely alone. You couldn't use the floo, couldn't apparate and now you also had no car to get you anywhere or to anyone. Your owl was delivering a message to the Burrow and still hadn't returned, clearly having flown to Wheezes instead, leaving you owl-less. You took long steady breaths when you could, relishing in the few moments of relief that came between your pains. It couldn't be labour, it just couldn't, even though logically you knew that it was more than possible as babies came when they were ready, not when you wanted them to.

You sighed when you felt another wave of pain starting in your extremities, rapidly increasing to a crushing pain around you back and in your last parts. The pain made you breathless and you could hardly believe how quickly things had escalated as you knelt on the floor trying to keep yourself calm but failing miserably in the middle of what you absolutely would not believe, but logically knew, was labour. You choked on a sob when you thought of Fred, that he'd left you at your most vulnerable time, that he'd miss the birth of your child and that you'd have to do this all alone. The plans you'd made for your birth were now completed ruined and you would no longer have the support of Molly, who had been overjoyed at being asked to support you. She was more than just your mother-in-law and after birthing seven children, there was no one else you trusted to guide you through labour. But now completely alone and trapped at home, would you survive? Women died in childbirth all the time, especially when birthing alone. What if the baby didn't survive? What if the cord was around their neck and you didn't know?

Almost like a switch had gone off in your mind, you focused on the task at hand, pushing all fear inducting thoughts out of your head and focused instead of what would be needed if you were going to do this alone. Warm towels, water, somewhere comfy for you to labour, somewhere warm and soft for the baby, baby clothes and a multitude of blankets. You looked towards the stairs and took a deep breath, trying your hardest to time yourself so that in the brief moments of reprieve you could climb the stairs to fetch what you'd need.

It took much longer than expected to collect everything you'd need, having to stop multiple times to cling onto the nearest surface and ride out the wave of pain that you could tell was getting worse and closer together. You'd barely made it down the stairs when another wave of pain hit you, making you stumble down the last step. You cried out at the searing pain that shot through you at the inadvertent step you'd taken, a lighting bolt of agony coursing through your pelvis, around your bump and settling deep in your groin. Your breath was shaky as you tried to recover from the pain but it didn't wane this time and instead focused purely in the centre of your pelvis. You notice by chance that it's past midnight now, the jingle of the little Christmas-themed muggle clock taunting you as to the announcement of a new day. Christmas Eve and you were alone, left to give birth entirely alone.

It takes everything you gave no to cry out, focusing instead on taking deep breaths and emitting a low groan as a way of vocalising your pain. You eventually make it back to the sofa, surrounded by all the things you'd need and allow yourself a little sob as you look at the equipment surrounding you, like an ominous scene of foreboding. Whatever motivation and strength you had previously momentarily slipped away and you allowed yourself to cry, both for the unrelenting pain and for your heartbreaking situation.

You let out another cry when a pain much stronger and more direct than before hits you full on, a crushing feeling from the inside that makes you feel lightheaded. You scramble to look down when you suddenly feel something wet beneath you, bringing your hand up to your legs to try and decipher what had caused it. You fight through another pain to pry off your wet bottoms and cast them aside, praying that you don't see any blood between your thighs. It's clear, the liquid that drips down your thighs, small sudden gushes turning to small drops as you battle to get a towel underneath you.

You're on all fours again, trying your hardest to take stabilising breaths when you hear the sound of the front door open.

"Fred!" You cry out in hope and desperation, the wail that falls from your lips an accumulation of the physical and emotional pain. It's the scream that you had wanted so desperately to let out as your body burns internally.

He's beside you in seconds and couldn't have been quicker if he'd apparated between the door and the living room. Your head falls forward as another contraction takes over, the sudden need to push consuming every instinct within you.

"I'm here sweetheart, I'm here it's okay," he coos, his hand instinctively reaching for your lower back as you circle your hips, trying desperately to bring relief.

You look up into his eyes and can see that he looks completely torn, eyes washing over your form as his mind whirls trying to formulate a plan. He looks completely overwhelmed under the surface, as much as he's pretending to be calm, panicked by the sudden chance in circumstances.

"Look sweetheart, I need to fetch mum, I'll be back in five minutes tops, I'll apparate right there and right back, can you handle that?"

He barely gets the words out before you scramble to reach out for him, clutching the bottom of his shirt desperately as you cringe from the movement of your torso.

"No please Freddie, please don't leave me alone again," you beg, already crying from the thought alone as you cling into him, tears streaming down your face. You're terrified of being alone again, desperate for him to stay by your side. You're scared and in pain, unable to think clearly.

"I won't leave," he says with a nod, trying to calm you, his brows knitting together as he tries to think of a backup. It's too late to drive you to St Mungo's and there's no way to side along apparate with you safely, especially now that labour had begun.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls out his wand to cast his patronus, watching with a dwindling sense of hope that it would reach its destination quickly.

He pockets his wand again and turns his full attention back to you, trying to push some pressure into your back to relieve the pain in anyway he can, gently reminding you to take slow and deep breaths. There's so much that he needs to say to you, to apologise for, but that can wait until later, knowing that his focus had to be on you right now.

"Fred I need to push," you say with staggered breaths, a thin sheet of sweat covering your forehead.

"I know sweetheart, just a couple more minutes okay?" He says, still squatting down beside you. He prays to Merlin and to anyone else that might be listening for this to go well, for his patronus to have worked and failing that, for it to be an easy birth. He wasn't prepared for this, just a prankster turned businessman that had no knowledge of women's bodies beyond putting the baby there... getting it out was a completely different matter. 

"That's it sweetheart, you are doing so well, I'm so proud of you," he says, pushing back your hair that had stuck to your sweaty head, reaching for one of the little hand towels towels and enchanting it so that it was wet and cool before rubbing it softly over your forehead. You moan out and he hardly knows if it's because of the cooling sensation or because of the pain, but when you pull his washcloth holding hand back up to your forehead, he's pretty sure he has an idea.

"You are so strong princess, you're doing so well," he coos, trying his hardest to support you in your time of need. Truthfully, he was baffled how your body was doing this. You looked like you were in excruciating pain but yet you still carried on for the sake of the baby, your strength and resilience astounding him.

He jolts when he hears the telltale roar of flames in the fireplace and his heart leaps at the thought, had his patronus worked?

"Where is my, oh my dear!" Molly Weasley steps out of the floo induced flames of their fireplace and directly into the living room, giving herself a good shake as she spots her daughter in law on all fours in obvious labour. She pulls out her wand and casts a spell over herself that cleans off any sign of fireplace soot, then blasts the fireplace so that the regular flames resume to heat the home.

"Oh my dear," she rushes over, moving to kneel beside her daughter in law whose face scrunched up in pain, a silent scream of anguish falling from her lips.

"You should have got me sooner!" She points an accusing finger at her son who looks equal parts guilty and mortified as she strikes your hair out of your face, her eyes flicking between concern and anger between the two of you.

"I... I told him it wouldn't be yet," you stammer, hardly able to form the words. "I need to push!"

"Fred make yourself useful! Just like your father sat idly about, fetch some more towels and pillows from the bed, honestly you men." Molly surges into caring mode and for once Fred does exactly as she says without any backchat or hesitation. Her very presence is reassuring to you and you feel instantly calmed just by having her by your side.

"Well I have to say it, you do make beautiful babies," Molly coos as she looks at the three of you huddled together on the bed. Fred looks tired but peaceful, his arm wrapped protectively around you as your new baby stays latched on to your breast, bundled in soft blankets that her grandma had knitted especially for her. You're exhausted but overwhelmingly happy, and perhaps a little bit shocked by how quickly everything had progressed throughout the day and night.

"Right I'm off, as long as you're all okay? Oh I can't wait to tell your father he'll be overjoyed! I'm only an owl away if you need anything and I mean that, yes?"

"Thank you, for allowing me to experience this. I have a feeling this little one will be my favourite yet," Molly smiles as she leans down to glide her fingers across the little one's cheek lovingly. She looks up to you and smiles warmly, leaning down to give you a kiss on top of your head. "And very well done dear, you did brilliantly."

Fred walks his mother out, knowing that she had never liked apparating and would be using the floo to get home. You can hear their voices as they go downstairs but you can't hear what's being said and you look down at the cooing baby in your arms, watching her closed eyes and quick but steady breaths. She really is perfect, her little button nose, long lashes and tuft of distinctive red hair that was currently hidden beneath her little hat. 10 fingers, 10 toes and a striking resemblance to her dad that after the intense labour you'd just endured felt like a hilarous but tiny smack in the face.

When Fred returns, he's beaming. He pauses, leaning against the doorframe as he looks at the sight before him, his girls.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" He asks, gently climbing onto the bed beside you.

"Exhausted," you say with a laugh, trying hard not to jiggle the little one too much with your laughter. "But I'm happy."

"Me too. Here, let me take her so you can get some rest."

You want to protest but you're worried your eyes will close at any second even though you're trying your hardest to keep them open, your body just too exhausted. You hand Fred the sleeping baby, passing her over gently like she could shatter at any moment from being so fragile and within moments of your head touching the pillow, you're out like a light.

"Wait till you meet your uncle George, and auntie Ginny, and uncle Percy, and Ron, and Charlie and Bill... there's a lot of them to remember I know, but it's mainly uncle George and Auntie Angelina you have to remember kid. Don't even get me started on the others, aunt Hermione, uncle Harry, auntie Fleur and then there's your granny and grandad."

"Trying to bore her back to sleep with your family tree?" You smile, noticing Fred and your little girl cuddled together in the little armchair in the corner next to her bassinet. He huffs a laugh, turning to you with so much adoration in his eyes that it momentarily leaves you breathless.

"Just getting her up to speed," he smirks, reaching down with his hand to grab her hand gently, "you going to say good morning to your beautiful mummy?" He gently manipulated her hand so that she gives you a little wave and you laugh, sitting up in bed with a slight wince.

"So I guess Fred Jr is off the table now eh?" He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he stands up from the chair, bringing your daughter over to you, her face a perfect picture of contentment.

"It was never on the table," you say with a smirk, greedily reaching for your daughter.

"Well you surprised us little one," Fred says to his daughter as she begins to stir. "Thought we'd be naming you something new yearsey, but you're a little Christmas Angel."

As if the concept of time and days had just returned to you, you realise that your daughter was born on Christmas Eve, your own little Christmas miracle.

"Holly?" Fred suggests, your nose scrunching up at the suggestion, not liking how obvious it was.

"What about Evangeline?" You ask, looking down at the sweet face, trying to weight up what name suited her the most. "Nickname Eve or Evie?"

"Evangeline Weasley..." Fred muses, as if trying it out for himself, "I love it." He beams, as if the missing puzzle piece has just slotted in to place.

"Merry Christmas little Evangeline," he coos, watching as she yawns, her eyes opening with a little squint as if by some miracle, answering to her name. Fred kisses you and you're happier than you've felt in a long time, the heartbreak of yesterday long forgotten and forgiven as you celebrate your first Christmas together as a family of 3.