#i started this two months ago and then never wrote again and then came back to it today and tripled the word count

[ox-imagines]

In the Vault

Tohma Ishibashi x f!reader

2.5k words

CW: smut. sex. MINORS DNI!!

“Come with me,” your boyfriend’s voice was hushed, unusually urgent, his arm hooked tightly to yours. Tohma had asked you to meet him at Frostheim’s dorm; you’d barely made it through the door before he’d latched to you to whisk you away. He led you to the grand, icy staircase, taking you downstairs. To the Vault, you presumed. Your feet moved quickly to keep up with him down the stairs.

“Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes fixed ahead. Once you reached the hall at the end of the staircase, he wasted no time in pulling you through the door. As soon as the door was closed your back met the cold wall. Tohma had you caged, his steely gaze darkened and locked to yours, his chest rising and falling harder than it should’ve been. “I’m- sorry for this lapse in judgment, but…” his eyes trailed down your form before his lips met yours roughly. Your head was pressed back to the wall for a brief moment until his hand replaced the hard surface, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you more insistently. Though shocked, you yielded to him, your hands running up his back as you parted your lips enough for him to slip his tongue in. He groaned into the warmth of your mouth and fully pressed his body to yours. The unmistakable bulge already tenting his pants rubbed against you and he huffed softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his hips harder against yours. When he was out of breath, he pulled away and began loosening his tie. “Here,” he panted, gesturing toward his desk.

A shiver of anticipation ran through you and you did as you were told, moving to sit on the edge of the table. 

His sharp eyes darkened predatorily and he shook his head slightly. “Oh no, love. Turn around.”

His words went straight to your core and blood pounded in your ears as you turned to face the desk. He hummed appreciatively, the sound accompanied by the soft fabric rustle of him discarding his jacket and top on one of the chairs. You expected the sound of his belt next, but instead were greeted by the warmth of him behind you. His large hand moved your hair over and his lips connected to the sensitive skin of your neck, his other hand intently fondling over your hips and breasts. He began unbuttoning your shirt, the Vault’s cold air embracing your skin as he revealed it. After a moment, he released you and stepped back. “Finish undressing.” The tone he used made it clear to you he’d be watching you do so, his voice dripping with piquant lust. 

While you did as you were told, the sound of him undoing his belt finally greeted you. You trembled, an innate, unintended reaction to the noise. You could imagine the hungry smirk on his face as he watched. Ignoring your better judgment, you stole a glance behind you at him. His pants were undone and pushed down enough to free his bulge, veins faintly trailing paths up his defined abdomen from under the edge of his boxers; his muscular forearms flexed as he removed his monocle and gloves. He caught you looking and raised an eyebrow. 

“Did I say you could turn around?” Though Tohma’s tone was soft, you knew better than to trust it. It was the voice of a shepherd addressing his flock, but you were a lamb being led to slaughter. You immediately faced away from him again and the click of his shoes against the tile drew near to you. You’d stripped down to your undergarments despite being instructed to finish undressing. Such impudence wouldn’t be permitted. Two of his fingers slipped between your skin and the fabric at your hip, drawing it away from you. “What’s this?” It was a rhetorical question; you held your tongue. He knew you knew your mistake the same way you knew not to answer the question. Behind you, he crouched slowly, sliding your underwear down your legs. A brief tap on your ankle signaled for you to step out of them. “I’ll be keeping these as payment for your little transgression until I see fit to return them.” Great. You’d be going back across campus to your dorm without underwear, then. He smirked softly at how wet the garment was, the thought of how wet you must be.

You placed your palms on the desk in front of you for support as you began to feel lightheaded. His fingers ghosted just above your spine, sending a shiver through you, then unclasped your bra with practiced ease and slid the straps from your shoulders.

“Bend over.” The statement was nothing short of a command. An ecstatic flurry of butterflies swirled in your stomach as you obeyed, leaning down onto the desk. The icy surface quickly sapped your skin’s warmth, but you didn’t mind; you were far more focused on the fire burning hot at your core. Fingers rubbed carefully between your legs, prodding, teasing, his skin cool against your heat. He didn’t provide enough pressure or depth to give you any gratification, no, only enough to further excite you. Meanwhile, his other hand slipped up your back, lightly and tauntingly, before sliding into your hair. 

All at once, his hand was gone, his torso was pressed to your back, and, consequentially from how he was now laying against you, his arousal pressed against your ass. You could feel his warmth through the fabric of his boxers, the way he was straining against the garment. “Now,” he whispered, his breath tickling your shoulder, “I wish I could take my time with you today, but unfortunately I do have other business to attend to, so we’ll have to make this quick.” As soon as his warmth had appeared over you, it was gone again. Though you missed the feeling of him blanketing you, you wouldn’t trade it for the sight of him. Long, even strides carried him around to the other side of the desk. There wasn’t a single visible sign on his lithe, confident form that would suggest he was bothered by the frigid air of the Vault; just lean, rippling muscle and that perpetual smug smirk. He knelt and opened a drawer, producing a nondescript box. You couldn’t see in it from where you were, but as he returned the box to its spot, you caught the increasingly familiar sight of a shiny square of plastic in his hand.

You stifled an anticipatory whine as you watched him circle back around the desk toward you, condom in hand. “Somebody seems quite ready, hm?” He chuckled, a warm, deep amusement in his voice that belied his usual chilled demeanor. “Don’t worry, love,” he leaned toward you once more, his lips brushing your ear and his voice dropping hair-raisingly. “I’ll give you everything you want and more.” In one swift motion, he tangled his hand back into your hair, his forearm pressing along your spine as he shoved you back down toward the desk. Your breath fogged the polished surface of his desktop. “Look at you,” he purred as he drew back, admiring you. His voice was accompanied by the crinkle and tear of the condom’s wrapper, then a soft hiss from him as he freed his cock from his boxers. You felt his warmth draw near before you even felt his touch. “We don’t have time for the prep I usually give you, love, but you’ll be fine,” his voice was like honey in your ears; thick, warm, sweet; convincing you you’d be fine, telling you you’d be fine. “You always take me so well.” 

This time you couldn’t restrain yourself from letting out a whimper, his words and tone coaxing it out of you almost willingly. 

“Good girl,” he was smiling wickedly as he stepped closer, placing his hands on your waist and lightly squeezing. He leaned closer, kissing your back, the softness of his lips turning into a subtle sting as he marked you. Fresh, purple bruises bloomed on your skin as he worked, scattered among fading yellow ones. As he leaned in to you, his cock brushed against you; it was so deliberate, everything he did was so deliberate. His level of self-control was immeasurable, you figured; how else could he possibly maintain such composure whilst so obviously aroused?

One of his hands left you, his body drawing back from yours, and you tensed in anticipation. A soft, thoughtful hum left him, then he put his hand back, lifting your hips up with ease and using his foot to slide your legs further apart. You sighed eagerly at his effortless manhandling, your eyes fluttering as you let your weight shift more onto the desk.

He set you down, one hand once again moving off of you as the other slid lower, to the side of your thigh. Then he was close again, closer this time, his tip pressing against your slick lips before pushing in. A throaty, appreciative hum escaped him as the wet-hot tightness of your walls swallowed him. Meanwhile, whimpers and whines fell from your lips at the painful sting, as if he was splitting you in half. He pressed in, stretching you, his fingers curling into your plush thigh and his other hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

The pain melted into pleasure as he filled you, a strangled gasp falling from your lips as his length pressed familiarly against your sweet spot. “Tohma,” you breathed his name out quietly as a satisfied ecstasy flooded you. You needed more, so much more, but even now you felt so full of him, and it felt so right.

“I suppose that means you’re ready then, love.” His tone was devious, corruptive; you could hear his expression, his grin and his darkened, narrowed eyes. He knew full well you’d hardly had enough time to adjust to his girth, but it didn’t matter. After all, you were on his time and under his control. Without further warning, he pulled nearly all the way out of you with a barely-audible sough, followed by a marginally louder moan as he thrusted back in, hard. You yelped, but didn’t even have time to recover as he repeated the motion again, and again, and again, setting a relentless pace.

“Such a pretty little slut for me, hm? So sweet and obedient and needy,” the mild degradation was spoken tenderly, more like an admiration even as his words sent chills up your spine and drew more whines from you. Each sentiment was punctuated with another forceful thrust.

You moaned pitifully as he fucked you into his desk without repreive. The sturdy wooden fixture bore witness to nearly every aspect of Tohma’s life with how much time he spent in the Vault nowadays, so it was only right it got to witness and participate in this scene. It supported you as it bit into your thighs, each of Tohma’s thrusts driving you harder against its polished surface, each slam of his hips sending another wave of heat through your stomach and another burst of stars behind your eyes.

His name was drawn out of you incessantly, a desperately mewled plea. By now the side of your face was pressed into his desk, the appliance and Tohma’s grip on your waist the only things holding you up now. Your knees were pressed into the front panel of the desk lest your shaky legs gave out and the top half of you was melted onto the desktop. Despite the Vault’s chill air, a sheen of sweat glistened over your body; drool pooled between the corner of your mouth and the desk as mental faculty gradually gave way to delusion. 

Like a spring being coiled tighter, tension spread through your body, each of Tohma’s thrusts somehow sending even more pleasure crashing through you than the last. “P- pleasee,” you begged to be released from the ever-increasing tautness spreading through every inch of your body, more a noise than a word.

“I know, love,” Tohma’s voice was mildly strained, his breathing ragged, but his tone was still smug, velvety. Of course he knew you were close; you were splayed tensely under him, the exertive tightness in your every muscle causing you to tremble a little more with every second that passed. The hand that had braced him against your shoulder slid down callowly, a sharp contrast to his usual deliberation. His fingers found your clit, rubbing harsh circles against it as he tried to keep the pace of his thrusts steady.

You were gasping for breath, a futile cause as the air you took in left in the form of wanton moans. Shaking uncontrollably, your walls clamped down on his length, drawing a sharp inhale and then louder groans from the ghoul. His lips were on your back again, the softness of the gesture a stunning foil to the intensity of literally every other action between you at the moment. “Good… come undone for me, yes,” he mumbled against your hot, damp skin. You had no other choice but to obey, the words breaking down your final vestiges of control.

Tohma held you as you cried out, his hand leaving your increasingly sensitive nerve bundle so he could wrap his arm around your waist. You trembled violently, clenching rhythmically around him, your hands balled into fists against the desks. Your head began to clear rather slowly, his thrusts easing up without fully stopping; moments later he bit into your back to muffle himself, his moans vibrating against your skin. Panting, he stilled. His softening cock still inside you, he laid against your back, his arms loosely wrapped around you while he calmed himself down.

“Thank you,” Tohma whispered after a long, quiet respite, lifting himself from you. “Here, love, let’s get you presentable.” He tenderly helped you stand up, picking you up once you’d faced him and gently setting you on his desk. After quickly stepping away to retrieve his pocket square from his jacket, he returned and knelt before you, carefully wiping you clean with the rich, soft piece of fabric. It was set aside while he gathered your clothes (besides your underwear, of course) and helped you into them, straightening them out caringly and fixing your hair. With you taken care of, he turned his attention to himself, removing and disposing of the condom and retrieving the pocket square to wipe himself off as well.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and re-zipped his pants, then looked up at you with a fiendish grin. “Since I have something of yours…” he tucked the damp, stained pocket square into your hand, chuckling as he turned to finish dressing. You couldn’t help but watch the way his muscles rippled under his skin as he pulled his shirt on. “Now, why don’t you go home and take a nice warm shower? Have some water or tea after.” He leaned into a sweet kiss, any hint of his domineering facade melted away as he cared for you. “If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll at least make sure to message. I love you.” With one more kiss and a faint smirk, he sent you on your way, leaving you to walk across campus sore and with nothing on under your skirt.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[darnell-la]

Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?

note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.

The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.

He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.

“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.

The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”

Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.

“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.

“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?

She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.

Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.

“I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.

“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.

“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.

“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.

“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.

Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

I Hate You. | F.W.

summary: They had been friends since the moment they met, but what happens when she falls in love with him and he seems to blind to notice?

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: 5718

warning(s): ends in smut

notes: I have not posted in quite some time, nor have I wrote anything in a long time. I tried to avoid the use of y/n. Fred calls her 'little red' or 'red' ocassionally, this is explained in the writing.

masterlist

Six years of friendship. Six years of falling for Fred Weasley, really. If she were to be honest with herself, she knew she loved him two years ago. It was just easier to ignore as a 15 year old girl. She initially tried to write it off as just feeling that way because they were so close already, but she knew that wasn’t true. She was just as close with his twin brother, George, and she wasn’t in love with him. Fred was different. They knew each other on a different level. They could be overly affectionate with each other. When she saw him at the platform this year, she ran to him and jumped into his arms and stayed there despite George whining that he hadn’t seen her in just as long. On the train ride, she fell asleep with her head in his lap whilst he and George started scheming their first prank of the school year. He would hush George any time she would start to stir, then gently play with her hair until she settled again. She had fallen asleep on George’s shoulder once, and swore to never do it again. Whilst he was also one of her best friends, he did not hold the same kind of soft spot for her as his twin did. He had used a spell to turn her hair bright green. She was livid when she realised. Poor George was afraid to turn his back to her for the next four months. She had waited six months for her revenge, perfecting the same colour changing spell, but turning all of his clothes pink. 

Now at 17, her feelings were harder to hide. The pangs of jealousy at every Gryffindor party after a quidditch match when girls would shamelessly flirt with him. And he seemed to love it. Tonight was another one of those nights. Gryffindor had destroyed Slytherin on the quidditch pitch and were, of course, throwing their usual celebration. She sat next to George and Angelina on the couch, her eyes following Fred. Her gaze only left him as Julie came up to him and was heavily laying on the charm. She felt the jealousy bubbling in her like a failed potion about to go horribly wrong. She felt George shift and wrap an arm around her shoulder, giving her a slight squeeze. “Love, why don’t you talk to him?” Angelina asked, reaching over George to squeeze her hand. Her gaze moved from her knees to her two friends, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “I couldn’t possibly talk to him about this, Ang. I’d tell him everything and feel like an absolute git after.” She admitted, letting out another huff. George shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but quickly closing it. Ever since the start of the year, she had grown closer to George and his girlfriend, Angelina. Unfortunately, closer than she was with Fred. They were definitely still close, but something was different between them this year. And it wasn’t that she was head over heels in love with him. It was him that was keeping a distance between the two of them. Every year, she sat with them at the Gryffindor table. Her Ravenclaw robes made her stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of red, but Fred and George were her best friends. In fact, she only ever sat at her own houses’ table a handful of times. The sorting ceremony, the last day, and that couple of months last year when Fred had a girlfriend who absolutely hated her. She had friends in Ravenclaw, but she wasn’t as close to anyone as she was with Fred. George was a close second, but her and Fred always just clicked. They clicked from the first train ride to Hogwarts they ever had. They were nearly inseparable. If Fred wasn’t with George, he was with her, or they were all together. She spent a few weeks with the Weasley’s every summer. Molly was like her second mother at this point. She loved spending time with all of them. She loved answering all of Arthur’s questions about the muggle world. She loved hanging out with Ginny, the only other girl around her age in the Weasley household. It was usually the highlight of her summer.

A loud cheering pulled her attention away from her two friends as they all turned to the source of the noise. It felt like her heart shattered into dust. Don’t cry. Do not cry. Not here. “I-, I have to go.” She quickly stammered, slipping away from her friends and blinking back tears. There he was. Fingers tangled in Julie’s hair, kissing her passionately. She tried to keep her head down as she pushed towards the door. She knew better, but she looked up anyway. Another stab to the heart. Her tear-filled gaze met the eyes of Fred Weasley. Fred Weasley, best friend, heartbreaker. She tore her gaze from his and moved as quickly as she could without running. She pushed out of the door, finally letting a tear fall as the door shut behind her. She could’ve swore she heard George yelling at his twin as she stepped out, but she could be wrong. She stood in the hall for a moment, unsure of what to do. Her feet were moving before she registered that she was moving. She knew Fred, she knew he would try to come after her. He was her best friend, after all. Part of her wished he would push through the door, catch up to her and wrap her in his arms. The other part of her, the hurt, told her to stop hoping he would feel the same way. Though, he would ask George what happened first, which bought her some time, yet not enough to get to her common room before he caught up with her. Even if she ran, he could easily catch up to her. Before she knew it, she was standing in the middle of the hall, watching the door to the room of requirements take shape. She heard him calling her name, and heard his footsteps. She didn’t want him to see her like this, not right now. Not when it was so fresh. She shouldn’t be crying. They were only friends, she was the one hopelessly in love with him. She reached for the doorknob, sliding into the room and quickly shutting the door behind her. Merlin, please let the door disappear before he gets down here. She slid down the wall next to the door. How absolutely foolish could she be? Her and Fred would never happen. It was clear at this point. She was terrified that if she told him how she felt, it would ruin their friendship. Not only would she be heartbroken, but she would lose her best friend too. 

She had no idea how long she sat there for. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? It took nearly another hour before she gathered the courage to leave. Even if he had seen her, she doubted he would’ve waited for her. Maybe two years ago, but not now. Not with this weird distance between them. Definitely not after close to three hours of her hiding. She could still confidently say that Fred was her best friend, but it was different. It wasn’t like before. They weren’t joined at the hip anymore. This summer made that clear. She spent most of her time with Ginny and Molly. The few times they had spent together went from comfortable and playful to awkward. There were moments when it felt like he may also feel the same way about her, but he always seemed to pull away a little more after. She could’ve sworn he was going to kiss her one night, her heart felt like it was beating in her throat. But he just cleared his throat and awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he took a step back from her. Maybe she should’ve just kissed him then, and let whatever would happen just happen. At least she would’ve known how he felt. She might have lost her best friend, but she wouldn’t constantly feel this hurt and jealousy. 

 She pressed on the wall, waiting for the door to appear to make her exit. She slowly pushed the door open, only then realising she should have left from the other side of the room. There he was. That beautiful, heartbreaking idiot. His head leaned back against the wall, mouth slightly open as he slept. She realised she really had been in there for much longer than she thought and it was a miracle Fred hadn’t been found by Filch or Mrs. Norris. She kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on his knees. “Freddie.” She whispered lightly, pushing against his knees to hopefully wake him, but she knew he could sleep through the whole castle crumbling to the ground. “Freddie!” She whisper-yelled, shaking him harder, earning a groan from him. “Fred Gideon Weasley, get up before Filch comes and kills us both!” She whispered harshly, causing Fred to finally open his eyes. His sleepy gaze quickly turned to a soft look when he took her in. She knew her eyes had to be slightly puffy and her nose was red. It always turned red after she cried, and she hated it. She also hated that Fred always knew when she was upset or had been crying, and he always knew exactly how to make her feel better. Whether she needed a hug, or to be held, or if he needed to go to ridiculous measures just to make her laugh. Fred reached out and pulled her to him, stretching his legs out so she was in his lap. She fell forward against him as he hugged her. She let her head rest against his chest, feeling tears threaten to fill her eyes again. “C’mon little red.” He whispered, moving to get up. “I don’t have red hair.” She mumbled, she didn’t know where the nickname had come from. Fred had just started calling her it one day. The only answer for why she ever got was that she was now an honorary Weasley and she was tiny. It used to annoy her to no end, which is probably why it stuck. Fred loved getting reactions out of her, because even if something annoyed her when it came to him, she secretly loved it. It was like he knew it.

She walked next to him, keeping her head down. She watched her feet as she walked. She wasn’t paying attention, she just let him lead the way. She figured they would go to his dorm. It was the closest and safest bet. The chances of not getting caught on the way to her common room were slim to none. It was way too late to even consider being out of the common room, everyone was most likely asleep by now. She knew they were entering the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady had long ago stopped putting up a fight about her being snuck into the common room after hours. It happened so often that it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t bother to look up, just followed Fred to the stairs. The floor was a mess and she was afraid to look up. She didn’t want to relive her most recent memory in this room. She followed Fred into his dorm, noting that it was empty. He shared a room with George and Oliver Wood. Neither of the other two boys were here. She stood there silently as Fred moved around. He pulled out a jumper and handed it to her, turning around for her to change. The normalcy of this pained her. She knew Fred had seen her almost completely naked. He had stayed with her when she was sick last year. She had a fever that wouldn’t break and she had stripped out of her shirt and pyjama shorts in her sleep- with Fred sharing the same bed. She pulled the jumper over her head before pulling her jeans off. The jumper hung down to her knees, Fred was nearly a foot taller than her, if not more. She didn’t say anything as she climbed into his bed, only huffing as she rolled over to face away from him. 

She felt his weight as he slid into his bed, turning to face her back. “George told me what happened. She kissed me, and I didn’t…” He whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. Her whole body seemed to tense as she registered what he said. Of course George told him. Bloody hell. She felt Fred’s hand brush over her arm. He grabbed her shoulder, gently trying to turn her to him. She fought him on it, but it was no use. He was stronger than she was, no matter how determined she was to keep her back to him. “You know you can tell me anything. Hell, you’re my best friend.” Fred whispered, his eyes on her face. She stared at the ceiling, feeling tears well in her eyes again. “That’s the problem, Freddie. I’m your best friend.” Her whisper was soft, not trusting herself to speak without starting to cry again. “And I hate it.” She finished, closing her eyes tightly to press the tears back. She could still feel his eyes on her, but she knew she couldn’t look at him. She knew she would break. She knew he would hold her until she either calmed down or fell asleep. Merlin’s beard, they were more than just friends. Friends don’t do this. Friends don’t share a bed. Friends don’t sleep in nothing but the others jumper and their underwear and cuddle. Friends don’t wake up wrapped in each other's arms. Friends don’t cling to each other the way they usually do. She loved George like a brother, he was one of her closest friends. Her and George are not friends like she and Fred are. She felt a tear squeeze its way from her eye. She let out a shaky sigh as she felt Fred brush it away with his thumb. He pulled her into him and she hated him for it. She hated him at that moment. She hated that he made her hurt, but he was the only one that could make her feel better. A sob escaped her lips as the tears began to fall. “I hate you. I hate that you’re so damn oblivious to me. All I am is your best friend and I’ve been in love with you for two years, you idiot.” She cried into his chest. He cradled her head with one arm and pulled her closer with the other, holding her there as she cried. “I’m sorry, Red, I-i didn’t know.” He held her tighter, placing a kiss on the top of her head. His fingers drew circles on her back as her cries slowly stopped. He hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep until her grip on his shirt slowly loosened.

She woke up pressed to Fred’s chest and her legs tangled in his. His fingers were drawing slow shapes on her side. God she was still so hurt. The image of him kissing Julie replaying in her head. She went to pull away from him, only to be pulled against him tighter. “Let me go.” She mumbled, pushing against him again. “No can do, doll.” He mumbled back. “I still hate you.” She bit back, trying her best to ignore the comfort she felt being pressed against. “You don’t mean that.” His voice was gentle. He was used to her little fits. She had told him multiple times over the years that she hated him. The first time when he accidentally broke her brand new quill that her father had sent her as a gift when she found a new hobby of writing. It was their second year. He had saved up anything he could get until Christmas that year to buy her the same one. She had cried then too, but those were happy tears. She had told him she hated him the day he told her that he couldn’t come see her that summer, that was year three. Then she wrote to his mother and asked if she could come there to see him and George. Of course, Molly said yes. She was so delighted to finally meet the twin’s best friend. She was glad they finally had someone to level out their antics, but that didn’t last long. They were always up to something. She had told him three times in year four that she hated him. Once was when he had her pinned down and was mercilessly tickling her. She gasped it out between laughs. She even used his full name. He couldn’t help but smile, only to stop tickling when she rushed out that she was going to pee her pants if he didn’t stop. But he kept jumping at her, pretending he was going to tickle her again. The second time was when he was dating Hannah. They had gotten into a fight, screaming at each other. She was sad because she felt like she was losing Fred as a friend because Hannah hated her. And he called her bitter and jealous that she had never had a boyfriend. It was then that she told him she hated him. He could see the hurt in her eyes. That was the first time it truly hurt when she said she hated him. It felt like she meant it that time. The third time was towards the end of the year. They had made up and were thicker than thieves once again. She had conned him into going to the library to study. He was messing around the whole time and trying to make her laugh. He took it a little too far, accidentally hitting her inkwell. It shot across the table, they both moved to catch it and they both missed. It had spilled all over her skirt. She said she hated him then and told him he was lucky he was her best friend, otherwise he’d have to buy her a new skirt. Last year, year five, there were odd bits of distance between them, but when he thought about it, they weren’t odd. They were distant every time he had a girlfriend or was chasing after some girl. He had been slightly jealous of George since last year. She seemed to latch on to him, but it all made sense. She was distancing herself to protect herself and George was there for her, probably to tell her that Fred was an idiot and he’d come around one day. 

“Look at me.” He said as he rolled on to his side, sliding her off his chest. She stared at his chest, not meeting his gaze. “I am.” She mumbled and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Her full name left his lips as he gently pushed her chin up to force her to look at him, but she kept her eyes trained on his chest. “I swear, you are so stubborn that I wonder how you weren't sorted into Gryffindor.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “What Fred? What do you want? I don’t care if she kissed you. You didn’t have to kiss her back.” She bit out. He had to hide his smirk. If she wasn’t so upset with him, he knew she would’ve rolled her eyes and made a ridiculous comment on how she was surprised he wasn’t sorted into Slytherin. He suddenly missed her jests, wishing he could rewind to before the party. George had told him that someone they knew was pining after him. He just didn’t think it would be his best friend. But then again, how could it not be? They spent most of their time together, either alone or with George. If he wasn’t with George, he was with her. People often commented on them acting like a couple. Fred would walk her to class, arm slung around her shoulder. “I’m an idiot-” He started, only to be cut off by her. “I know you are. You’re the biggest idiot I know.” She tried to hold her glare, fighting a small smile. “C’mon, little red, let me finish.” He raised his brow as she opened her mouth to talk then closed it. She let out a sigh, waiting for him to continue. “You say I’m the biggest idiot you know, which may be true. But I’m the most handsome idiot you know.” He paused as a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. You could’ve just told me. Could’ve said ‘hey, you big, handsome, idiot, I love you’.” He paused again, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I would’ve said, ‘hey, little red, I love you too’.”

“Stop calling me that.” she mumbled and Fred let out an exasperated noise. He noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “I still hate you, at least for the next five minutes.” Her voice was much softer this time. “You’re so stubborn.” he mumbled, smiling when he felt her fingers grasp his shirt. “And you’re an idiot for not kissing me.” She mumbled, her gaze still locked with his. He slowly leaned in, his nose brushing hers as her eyes fluttered shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” She whispered as he leaned in. Her lips just barely brushing his as she spoke. He paused for a moment. He knew she had never dated anyone, but he didn’t think she had never kissed anyone before. He closed the gap, gently kissing her. The kiss was slow and soft, until she took him by surprise when she nipped his bottom lip. He groaned, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. “Never kissed anyone before, unbelievable.” He mumbled against her lips. She pulled on his shirt in a futile attempt to get closer than they already were. It was when she slid her hand up her chest and around his shoulder up to his hair that the door to his dorm opened. He reluctantly broke the kiss, looking up to see George standing in the doorway. “Well, I was coming to tell you that no one has seen our little friend here since last night, but I see you’re snogging her.” George grins. You roll over at his comment, turning to look at him. George winks at you and then turns his attention back to Fred. “I am now obligated to help her hide your body, doesn’t matter that you’re my brother.” George states, causing her to laugh.

“George, leave. Please.” Fred groans. “I think he should stay. This is fun. Hey, Georgie, isn’t Fred the biggest idiot you know?” She asks, smiling sweetly at Fred. “That’s likely!”

After George had left, they spent the entire morning in bed. Fred stealing kisses from her when she wasn’t dozing back off. “Freddie?” She whispered, curled into his side, her head laying on his chest. He hummed an acknowledgement. “Did you mean it?” She asked, her fingers grasping his shirt again. A small chuckle came from him as he squeezed her to him. “I love you, I have for some time. You’re also my best friend and I didn’t want to lose you.” He said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, you big, handsome idiot.” She said as she lifted her head to look at him. “Don’t think I won’t ask George to help hide your body.” She grinned as he laughed. 

The rest of the year seemed to breeze by. Two months of Fred pulling her into random broom closets between classes and sneaking into the room of requirements before curfew. Countless nights spent in there, hidden away among the mess. Before she knew it, everyone was packing and getting ready to leave for the summer. 

“Fred, I’m too tired, carry me.” She whined as he gently woke her when the train finally stopped at the station. He let out a sigh as George laughed at him, shaking his head. She was going to the Weasley’s for the summer as her parents were away until November. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking up at Fred. “After we get off the train, then I’ll think about it.” He reached a hand out to her, helping her up. The journey to the Weasley’s was rather quick. They travelled through the floo system. She dramatically collapsed into Fred’s arms when they got back. “So tired.” she mumbled. “You’re going to kill me.” He laughed, picking her up. This wasn’t entirely unusual for the two of them. Everyone was used to Fred and her clinging to each other. Molly would often give Fred a knowing look when she would walk into the den, finding her sleeping with her head in his lap or curled up against him. Molly also knew that, most nights, if she were to peek into Fred’s room, she would find the two of them together. She often heard them talking in loud whispers and trying to hide their laughter in the middle of the night. It didn’t dawn on her that only a handful of them knew they were together, not until George opened his mouth. “Hey ma, did you know that Freddie has a girlfriend?” A groan left Fred as he stared his twin down. She buried her face in his chest, trying to ignore the slew of reactions from the older Weasleys. Molly was utterly delighted, commenting on how she was surprised that it took this long.

The days seemed to fly by spending them in the Weasley household. Lots of stolen kisses and sneaking around. It wasn't until mid-July that her and Fred were alone in the house together. Everyone had gone out for one reason or another and it was just the two of them. They spent the morning in Fred’s bed, tangled together. She was constantly falling back asleep and Fred was just content to hold her. It wasn’t until she was the one to lean up and kiss him that the day seemed to take a slight turn. They had shared a bed countless times, kissing had almost turned into more countless times as well. But this kiss was needy and built a fire in the both of them. She started the kiss. It was soft, loving at first. Then she nipped his bottom lip and a groan left his lips. His fingers dug into her hips, the feeling giving her the courage she needed in the moment. She moved to straddle him. His hand pushed up the jumper she stole from him, revealing her bare thighs. She really would be the death of him. She never seemed to wear pants. Just his shirt and a pair of panties, she was a constant tease seemingly unknowing to the fact. The kiss was still innocent enough, until she ground her hips down on his. The almost whiny moan that left her lips had him flipping them over. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, most likely leaving marks in his wake. The sounds that left her lips were driving him wild. “You’re killing me.” He mumbled against her neck. His hands slid around her body. He gripped her hips before sliding a hand up her shirt. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, a lewd moan leaving her lips. 

“Freddie, please.” She whined, pushing her hips up against his for any sort of friction. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up until he reached up to pull it over his head. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She deepened the kiss, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. He still found it hard to believe she had never kissed anyone before him. Not when she kissed him like this. She continued to grind her hips against his, moaning into the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers hooking under the waistband of his pyjamas pants. She started to push them down when Fred broke this. “Baby-” He started only to be cut off by her leaning up and kissing him again. He knew she was virgin, while he may not be, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to do this. He was content just being with her. “Freddie, please. I want you. I-,” She paused, looking up to meet his eyes. “I want you to be my first.” Her breathy proclamation almost made him groan, but it was her reaching down and palming him through his pants that made a groan fall from his lips. Fred reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor. His eyes dragged over her body. She was perfect. “So pretty, baby.” He groaned, she would’ve thought he was talking to himself until his eyes met hers. His hands slid from her hips and over her stomach before he leaned down, kissing down her neck to her navel. It was then that her nerves started to build up. His lips pressed to her hip as he looked up at her. “If you want to stop, we will. At any point, baby.” He nipped at her hip as he pulled her panties down. She felt her cheeks flush, suddenly feeling exposed. Fred’s hands sliding up her legs seemed to calm her nerves. He pressed a kiss to her knee first, then trailed kisses down her inner thigh. It was the kiss that he placed closest to her sex that had the first moan falling from her lips. She gasped when she felt his tongue against her clit. He slowly added more pressure as he worked her clit. She didn't know how much more she could take, every pass of his tongue on her was overwhelming. Her hips bucked into his face. She was sure if she wasn’t so consumed by the building warmth in her abdomen that she would have been embarrassed. His name fell from her lips as he slowly worked a finger into her. His pace was painfully slow but every move made her feel like he already knew her body better than she ever could. It wasn’t until he worked a second finger into her and sucked her clit between his lips that she felt like she was falling apart. His name left her lips in succession until all she could do was moan. She moved her hips against his fingers, riding out her orgasm. 

“Please, Freddie, I need you inside of me.” She let out a breathy whine. This girl would really be the death of him. He turned his head, leaving a hickey on the inside of her thigh. His lips were on hers in an instant. When she reached to push his pants down, this time he let her. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her bottom lip. He slipped his tongue against hers, taking his time kissing her. He ground into her, sliding his dick through her folds. He teased her with his tip before gently pushing into her. She gasped into his mouth, her body tensing at the intrusion. “Relax, baby, okay?” He whispered, kissing her jaw. He didn’t move his hips, but his hand snaked between them. His thumb pressed against her clit, causing another gasp to leave her lips. He continued to toy with her clit as she looked up at him. The look in her eyes as a quiet moan fell from her lips had his resolve wavering. It was when the next breathy moan fell from her lips that she took him by surprise. She pushed her hips up, taking more of him in. His ministrations continued as he tried to ease any of her discomfort with pleasure. She rolled her hips into his, fucking herself like she had done on his fingers. Fred moved his other hand to her hip, holding her hips in place. It was then that he pushed into her until she took all of him in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, then her lips. The kiss was slow, gentle as he gave her time to adjust. She broke the kiss, brushing her nose against his. “Freddie.” His name left her lips in a breathy moan as she pushed against him. His thrusts were shallow at first, his forehead resting against hers. They moved slowly together, quiet moans falling from her lips. His name fell from her lips as he thrusted into her harder, faster. Her hands ran up his back, her nails digging into his skin as she gripped his shoulders. “O-oh, Freddie.” She gasped, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. She could feel her orgasm building again when he slid a hand between them, pressing his thumb to her clit. Fred could feel himself getting close to the edge. 

“Fuck, baby, cum for me.” He groaned against her skin. His thumb pressed into her clit harder, circling until she threw her head back. His name fell from her lips, her nails digging into his back. The feeling of her walls clenching and spasming around him as she came sent him over the edge. Her name fell from his lips as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Freddie.” Her voice was a whisper. She leaned up to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he could speak. “I love you.” He mumbled between kisses. 

They spent the next few hours tangled in each other, whispering sweet nothings, and her dozing off a few times. Fred woke her when he heard the first noises in the den below. Fred scrambled to find his clothes as she waltzed around his room to find hers. She pulled on a pair of leggings and his jumper. Her fingers slid across his sides as he pulled his shirt on. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. His arms snaked around her, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

[leclarifies]

i love you. it's ruining my life. (MV33)

✰ max verstappen x popstar!ex!reader ✰

summary: you and max have been broken up for four years now, going no contact for the entirety of those years. never bothering to contact eachother but he invites you to one of his races one day after the last show of your tour, who were you to say no?

genre: angst (im sorry)

wc: 3k

a/n: AHHH, THIS WAS WAS A DOOZY!!!!! i loved writing this (i mostly just like hurting myself more than anything). kind of dark themes tho, ooc max bc he vvv loving and would never cheat on his lover. thank you so much for 100 followers btw!!!!!! i wrote this as a 100 follower special :3 thank you so much for my supporting my short journey as a tumblr writer, you guys inspire me to write even more for you guys. can you imagine that's it's been a week of writing and i've already gained 100 followers?? i love you guys so much.

warnings: mentions of existing relationship with kelly, cheating

"thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up. another fortnight lost in america." - taylor swift, 'fortnight'

isn't it ironic that careers can really separate you from what truly made you, you? being a popstar, touring for months on end, surrounding yourself with new people, new opportunities, made it hard for you to reconnect with the people that helped you from day one.

it wasn't like you cut them off, or stopped talking to them. you tried. you really tried, but sometimes life goes on and people forgive and forget. your old life before you started your career was slowly being etched away and replaced with new pieces.

and maybe that was a bad thing.

"on stage in 2 minutes," a voice snapped you out of your trance, you looked up. you looked amazing in your sparkly dress, it was the last leg of your tour and you were touring in europe.

you had been offered to attend a formula one race this weekend after all of your shows had been concluded, you've been thinking about it, but you're not sure you want to go. one of the people from said past was in attendance and you're not sure if you wanted to immerse yourself in that again.

you didn't think about it for long though, you were due for a show and a show was what you're going to give.

it wasn't long until the weekend, friday to be exact and you had accepted the offer of being on the formula one paddock, you knew that a certain ex-boyfriend was going to be there, racing on the track and you were invited personally by him, which was why you were so skeptical to go.

POPSTAR Y/N BREAKS UP WITH F1 DRIVER MAX VERSTAPPEN.

you remembered the headlines, you remembered what you let go of but seeing someone you still loved after your break up almost four years ago stung a little bit.

you couldn't blame him though, you were the one to break things off all those years ago. it wasn't because you had a terrible relationship with him, but it was more because you both didn't have time for eachother and you could see it in his face everytime you came home to monaco after a long show.

"i miss you, when can you finally stay and actually stay awhile?" max's face looked pitiful and you could only look down at your feet, you felt guilty. you wanted this career, he pushed you for this career but sometimes you wished that you could split yourself in two to cater to both his needs and yours.

you look back up at him, locking eyes with his stormy blue eyes, "i don't know maxie, maybe next month? i don't really have a schedule for next month, i can stay in monaco with you for awhile—"

"you said that last month, when are you actually going to be free schatje?"

"max, i can't give you a definite timeline—"

"what's the point of me being in a relationship with you when i can barely see you?"

it hurt to hear those words come out of his mouth.

maybe that's when you finally realized that he deserved someone normal, someone who wasn't a famous singer and could actually spend time and be there for him.

but here you were, amidst the paddock with a singular security guard because you didn't think you needed more than one, considering security around the paddock was tight in of itself.

the red bull's garage had been nice to you, offering you anything you possibly could need while being on a grand prix, you had politely declined any type of special treatment though, wanting to feel like a person for once in your life.

you wouldn't say your job is the hardest in the world, never. doing what you loved while meeting all of your fans was going to be the highlight of your day, but sometimes the job came with crazy fans that would invade your privacy for selfish reasons, and it made you a tiny bit stressed.

you remember starting out from the netherlands, starring in small gigs before getting signed to a mega corporation in america, which was when you moved. you slowly lost contact with your friends, but you were sure they were proud of you although you weren't proud that you lost contact with them.

you knew that if you contacted them that it would be awkward, there was just no way they would even remember you, right?

you were walking about aimlessly around the paddock, it was free practice day which meant that after the allotted time of the free practice, drivers were free to roam around the paddock however they wanted. you were scared on what you had to face today.

you told yourself to just keep calm, take whatever you got this weekend and just react like a sane person.

saturday came and went, you attended the paddock to watch the qualifying session, of course, max came out on top. was it even a surprise to you? you knew he was the best of the best, you never expected less of him, even after all these years.

sunday was here and maybe it was the anxiety, but you felt like throwing up when you saw max approach you.

"y/n, it's good to see you."

god, those eye-smiles. you could never get tired of them.

"hi max, congrats on starting out pole for this weekend," you told him as you shook hands with him, he was all smiles.

it felt good to see him happy.

"how has the paddock been treating you?" max asked, gesturing all around him, "have you tried the food? it's really good."

you nod as you let go of his hand, clasping it with your other hand, a nervous habit, "yeah, the food's good. how have you been? i haven't talked to you in awhile," a nervous laugh bubbled up from your throat, you were nervous to see him, maybe it was those damn butterflies in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of when he looked at you with those blue eyes of his.

"i know, you've been quite busy right?" max laughed at you, he felt silly conversing with his ex-girlfriend like this, like they didn't have a past.

you could only nod and smile back at him, shoulders tense, "yeah, touring's been eventful. it's the last leg of the tour so i decided to come, thank you for the invite by the way, i really appreciate—"

"max, who's this?" a voice came from behind you, quite condescending if you did say so yourself, cutting you off, you turned your head around to see his girlfriend and his girlfriend's child coming into view, walking towards max and wrapping max with her arm as a possessive embrace.

max kissed her cheek, and that hurt. you didn't want to know why, but you knew. he spoke up afterwards, "this is y/n, she's a singer. i wanted her to come because she had a show here, thought the timing was quite convenient for her. y/n, this is my girlfriend, kelly piquet. she's a model."

you extended your hand as a form of hello before introducing yourself, "hello, i'm y/n—"

"yeah, i know who you are," kelly cut you off again, you were quite taken aback by the hostility, your hand left hanging but then again, max was talking to one of his ex-girlfriends. you thought you would react the same way, so you didn't take it too much to heart. her face was something you'd describe as an angry, possessive tiger, brows furrowed, frown on full display.

"i didn't mean to take time away from your boyfriend. i was just having a little chat pre-race," you tried to give her a smile while returning your hand back to your side, but kelly was adamant about standing her ground.

little penelope was looking at you like she had stars in her eyes, you smiled at her. as if it was a sign of whether she should speak up, she starting speaking to you directly, "hi, i really love your songs. do you think you can stay in the red bull garage and we can take pictures together?"

you giggle and bend down to her level and pat her head, "hi little p, of course we can take pictures together— that's if your mother lets me," you acknowledged that this little girl was no ordinary little girl and was your ex-boyfriend's girlfriend's child.

"can we all talk in private please?" kelly excused the three of them away before you could even give her a response but you understood her. standing back up before walking off deeper into the paddock.

MAX'S POV

"i don't understand why you would invite her!" kelly was pacing around the motorhome, here we were fifteen minutes before race start and here my girlfriend was still yelling over something that happened two hours ago.

"kelly, i just thought it was a good idea. i wanted to invite her because i know p was such a big fan of hers—"

"she's your ex for god's sake, max!" kelly yelled out yet again, "why would i ever approve of her coming to one of your races? let alone be near to p??" her pacing was more feverish now, like she was scared.

i could only sigh, honestly i wasn't too worried about this problem at the moment. the only thing on my mind was the race and only the race.

"look, can we talk about this when i've finished with my race? i really need to focus and you keeping me locked up in here isn't going to help with it," i stood up from my seat, i didn't want to hear anything else come out of her mouth other than a 'okay' and letting me walk out of here.

"don't you think our relationship is at stake here—?"

"if you don't let me go out into the garage, then we're nothing kelly," i say with finality, i wasn't going to let her ruin a race, "i told you, we will solve and talk about this issue later, but you chose to lock me up in here. there will be nothing to salvage if you don't let me do my job."

kelly wordlessly stepped out of the way of the door and let me go, thankfully just with enough time where i could run down and get into the garage, getting me in racing gear.

thankfully the red bull mechanics and officials were understanding enough to let me rush and get inside of my car, getting into the chasis just at the right moment where we would need to drive out.

it was going to be a fine race for me. i knew it. i had enough confidence in myself to know whether i could win a race, and this was one of them.

"and that's p1 max, great race," gp was in my ear, i was proud of myself for winning, but kelly was gnawing the back of my mind. although, the first face i saw when i got out of the car was y/n's.

it felt like my heart stopped beating, i thought i got rid of those stupid butterflies ages ago, but nothing ever beat seeing her smile after i finished a race. she looked so beautiful, so ethereal but i washed those thoughts out of my head.

i had a girlfriend.

i can't run up and hug her because she's my ex. i have a loving relationship in front of me. what was i thinking?

kelly was nowhere to be found in the celebratory pit, i thought that maybe she was still too angry to face me at the moment. it stung a little bit, but she'll get over it. i'm sure.

the night moves on fast, and somehow i found myself still in the garage fixing a few things with the sim, most of the mechanics and staff were long gone. with kelly nowhere to be found. sometimes i felt bad, for still harboring feelings for an ex that left me four years ago.

my relationship with her felt so different with kelly's...

she was like fresh air you would breathe after exiting a club in the middle of the night, the smoke that clouded the air dissipating almost instantly after that fresh air hit your lungs. somehow, even four years later i still find her in little things i do everyday.

against my better judgement, i picked up my phone and i gave her a call.

"hello?"

i breathed out a sigh of relief when i realized she hadn't changed her phone number yet.

"it's me," were the words that left my lips, "you wanna come celebrate with me tonight?" i was picking on my jeans, i didn't want her to say no. i just wanted to spend a little time with her.

"what about your girlfriend? isn't she going to be even more upset with you—"

"can we not talk about her right now?" i closed my eyes and leaned back against the chair i was sitting on, hearing her voice again after a long time just... it felt right.

"max..."

"don't... just don't. i know what you're gonna say and i know it's wrong but i just... i can't do this today. i just won today and the first face i saw was yours, she didn't bother to show up. you can't tell me how to feel, y/n," i rubbed my temples, "meet me in the lobby of my hotel tonight. i just wanna see you."

"if i say okay, will this be a one-time thing?" y/n asked, i could hear the soft rustles of her moving things around, she was probably already in her hotel, resting from her tour when i had called.

"better yet, just drop the address of where you're staying. i'll come to you."

the first thing max did when he saw you was crash his lips into yours, you wanted to push him away, be the better person and tell him that he has a girlfriend but your arms couldn't do it.

your lips disconnected after awhile, he was breathing heavy, face flushed, hands all over you, "i've missed you."

you hum a response, you could barely get out a response when you feel his lips on yours again, this was wrong. all the alarms in your body were telling you to push him off, to yell at him, to reprimand him for basically cheating on his girlfriend.

but you didn't.

and maybe that made you a bad person, but at the moment you didn't care. you just wanted to feel him once more.

you woke up the next morning, cuddled up against max, both of you bare and indecent. he hadn't left yet, maybe he didn't want to leave.

the reality of last night crashed down onto you as you realized what you've done.

"max?"

"yes, schatje?"

the little nickname he gave you never went away. he used to call you that all the time but the feelings that came with it was no longer endearment but horror.

"you need to get back to your girlfriend, i don't think i can do this," you unwrap yourself from his grasps and sit up, back facing him, tears filling your eyes.

"woah, woah. schatje—"

"please, max. i feel like shit. you have a girlfriend and i just slept with you. last night was a mistake," you breathed out and hugged your knees close to your chest. you felt his hand on your back.

"y/n, what are you saying—" you cut him off before he could say anything else.

"i can't give you what you want max. we can't be together anymore. our story ended four years ago, please don't make this mistake. you're going to regret it," you quickly got up and away from his close proximity and got dressed.

you didn't know how to face him anymore.

"can we please talk about it at least? you can't lie and say that you don't feel the same way i do," max's voice came from behind you, you were pacing around the room, you were stressed. he was sitting there, shirtless with his pants on now.

"i do max! and that's the worst part because i knew you're in a relationship but i still let this happen. i am a horrible person. i love you and it's slowly ruining my life. i should've known better!" you turn around to face him, your face red, tears streaming down your face.

max could only sigh and raked a hand through his hair, "schatje..."

"we can't be together max, you know it. i can never give you what she gives you. she can be with you almost all the time max, you threw that all away for me? for someone who can't give you time of day?!" you sob into your hands.

you felt arms wrapping around you as you sob into his embrace.

MAX VERSTAPPEN BREAKS UP WITH GIRLFRIEND KELLY PIQUET ONLY AFTER A FEW MONTHS OF BEING TOGETHER.

you scroll past that headline as you got ready for your appearance to promote your new album, it came out two days ago and you were to debut the new songs on jimmy kimmel.

the tortured poets department.

you hadn't talked to max ever since that night, ever since he tenderly kissed your forehead and told you it was going to be okay and that he would figure it out. he had been blowing up your phone, asking to meet but you didn't have it in your heart to meet him after destroying his relationship like that.

that was two months ago.

you were due on stage in around an hour and that's where you would sing your heart out, leaving whatever pieces of your old self behind when you slept with max for the final time.

"i love you, it's ruining my life. i touched you for only a fortnight."

hello! thank u for reading this fic hehe, hope u guys enjoyed it. thank you again for 100 followers!!!!

[cherryredcheol]

little guy shelf

tldr: what the hell is a 'little guy'? an: i literally do not know where this came from.

when jihoon hears you huff for the fourth time in just as many minutes, he knows something must be wrong. after pausing the music coming out of his speakers and minimizing the tabs of production software on his monitor, he turns his chair to face you and is not surprised to hear you huff again. 

“bee,” he waits for you to look up at him before he asks, “what's the problem?” 

you huff again, but quickly pull yourself together and explain to him, very calmly, “there’s too many little guys on my shelf.”

jihoon blinks, sure he misheard you he asks again, “what is the problem?” 

you’re starting to get exacerbated, he can see it in the way you take a deep breath before explaining yourself, “my shelf, where i keep my little guys, there’s too many of them and now i can’t fit this one but this one is perfect! it has to go on my shelf.”

“i’m sorry, bee. i’m still confused. what is a ‘little guy’? and why does he have a designated shelf?” you two were still on opposite sides of the universe factory, and although the room was not big, he could not see the self in question from where he was, leaving him even more confused. 

“just come over here and look at my shelf, zi. you’ll get it if you can see it.” you could see the hesitation in his eyes at the thought of taking a break from production, but you were not above guilt-tripping. “come help me, zi. i need you,” you hoped your puppy-dog eyes still worked on him. 

turns out, they do. he got up and shuffled over to where you had squat down next to the second-to-bottom shelf on his wall. he’d never noticed before but the little shelf he’s offhandedly told you could be yours many, many months ago had been filled with little trinkets, or ‘guys’ he guessed. he wasn’t sure why you were so upset about this, though. 

“bee, i’m still confused. what exactly is the problem with your…guys?” he gestured vaguely to your plastic army.

“they’re all you! little tiny versions of you. and i’ve been collecting them but this one,” you lifted your hand to jihoon’s face. a tiny green man, bent over a barbell was staring back at him, his eyes were almost crossed trying to look at it. “this one will not fit! they all keep tipping over and then i stand them back up and then they tip over again! but he belongs here with these other little guys, zi. he belongs.” 

he gently pushed your hand out of his face, “yeah, bee. he totally belongs.” jihoon was still confused, but a little less so and terribly fond, “who else is there? who else represents me?” 

you lit up, clearly excited to explain your thought process to him. you turned, hand gently reaching into the molded infantry and remerging with a…grumpy penguin? 

jihoon was still confused but was ready to listen intently to your enthusiastic explanation, “tell me everything, bee.” he was doing this mostly to humor you, but he was intrigued.  

holding the little penguin out in front of you, you said, “this is badtz-maru. he is a penguin. he’s perpetually stuck in the first grade and wants to be the big boss of everything when he grows up.”

jihoon plucked the little plastic toy from your hand, turning it over to inspect it, “that's nice. but why is he me?” 

“well, he has black spiky hair, like you do,” you paused, looking at his long black hair, “sometimes.” you smiled sheepishly before continuing, “and penguins give rocks to their partners to show love. and you wrote ‘ruby’ and a ruby is technically a rock so…” you trailed off, embarrassed about your ramblings. 

jihoon had never thought you cuter. he reached the hand not holding his penguin self onto the shelf and pulled out a pokémon. “why flareon?” 

“oh! other than the sheer cuteness?” you were really on a tangent now, “‘flareon tends to isolate. and it’s in their nature to be lonely, so–”

jihoon interjected, “i am not lonely. nor do i isolate.” 

“well, that’s not true. you do isolate, don’t lie. and maybe not lonely per se, more of a loner. which again, you kind of are. plus, this little guy is spitting fire, which again, you do, so yeah. flareon, obviously.” 

“obviously.” jihoon was thoroughly amused. he had no idea any of this was in his studio. you’ve been hoarding toys here. toys that reminded you of him, “show me one more, bee.”

you pulled out, “a little baby, with a vegetable hat?” 

“no, zi. this is not any baby with a vegetable hat. this is the cabbage sonny angel. technically it’s the wrong kind of cabbage to make kimchi with but i’m choosing to let it slide because it’s little face looks just like yours!” 

you were very passionate about these so-called ‘little guys’ and although jihoon didn’t really get it, he loved you. and he loved that you thought about him so much that you would collect these little toys in his honor. 

“here,” he grabs the green weightlifting one off the discard pile on the floor and stands up. he rounds the corner to his desk and, “it can live here. since it’s ‘me’ and all.” he places it right next to his monitor, right in his line of vision, but not blocking anything important. 

you got up from the pile, leaving your little guys on the floor to see where this little guy had been placed. 

coming up behind jihoon you siaid, “zi! he looks perfect there!” you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

he blushed but still said, “you don’t have to keep the little guys just on that one shelf. use the whole wall, bee. my space is your space.”

[lqveharrington]

If Only | L.M.

summary: You and Lucifer were bond through the soulmate system, but how could you be soulmates when he had Lilith?

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fallen seraphim!reader

includes: kinda soulmate au? fluff, angst, mentions of death, lucifer feeling like a bad parent (that’s pretty much it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i wrote this at night the other day. toward the very end i was very proud of what i wrote 😭🙏 time for my requests i’ve gotten !!!

Ever since Lilith left Lucifer seven years ago, he never expected to meet another who made his heart soar. He fell into a deep state of depression and only started to get out more when Charlie invited him to stay at the hotel after the latest extermination. He got his own royal suite and joined in on Charlie’s lessons, but it still wasn’t enough to keep up with his daughter’s upbeat attitude every day.

It wasn’t enough to help pull him out of his depression until you came along to the hotel.

The moment you stepped into the hotel and greeted Charlie with the same enthusiasm made him smile. It was just another plus that you were a fallen angel, more so a fallen seraphim. And he swore that when you first met his gaze for that split second your eyes glowed pink as he felt his eyes do the same. He thought that would never happen again, but here he stood with an adoring face while you spoke to his daughter like you’ve known her since she was a child.

Soon enough, you and Lucifer were introduced to one another properly, the pink glow in both your eyes returning.

“It’s nice to meet the head man himself.” You grin as he kisses the back of your hand. “And such a gentleman as well.”

“What can I say? I’m quite the ladies' man.” He winked as he saw you burn bright.

As months passed since your first official interaction, you and Lucifer grew closer, bonding on your similar and different experiences. Whether you bonded over one of Charlie’s redemption activities or relaxed in his suite, you both found contentment in each other, letting each other enjoy the company.

“You know, I’m not going to relax when you keep tugging my book away.” You grab his wrist as he reaches for the book for the nth time in thirty minutes. “I’m going to leave your room.”

“Please don’t.” He tugged you closer to his side, head resting on your shoulder. “I don’t want to move from this spot again.”

You tilt your head toward him, eyes glowing a faint pink. “Then let me read.” You let a small smile slip through when he grumbled an incoherent sentence.

Lucifer’s eyes softened when you returned to read your book, watching your eyes scan the words in front of you. His mind and heart racing a million miles per hour whenever you were around. He couldn’t decide what was right. Was his heart telling him to move on? Or was it just aching to be affectionate with another?

The signs were pointing in different ways, but surely the answer was right in front of him. He just had to understand what it was before the magic between you two would fully disappear.

“Staring is highly distracting, Luce.” Your eyes flit up to meet him again. “I can’t focus.”

“You must really like me then.” He gave you a cocky grin

You roll your eyes, shutting the book. “You’ve ruined the book for me. I’m never going to finish that book now.”

“That book wasn’t good anyways.” He brought the comforter up and over the both of you. He locked his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his front. You felt yourself loosen up by his touch, letting out a small breath of exhaustion. “I’m spent after all the bonding activities today, beautiful. I think we can skip our kitchen run tonight and just go to bed.”

“Were you really waiting for me to finish reading so we could sleep?” You murmur as you feel him nod. You let out a small laugh, “Wow, I would have never stooped so low.”

Lucifer shushed you, “I’m sleeping, good night.”

A soft smile takes over your burning face, turning in his arms to face him. “Good night, Luce.”

He didn’t say anything else but quietly played with your hair, listening to your steady breathing as sleep consumed you. Lucifer always made sure you fell asleep first, wanting you to get a good night's sleep before he did. Yet, he didn’t exactly know when you both went from friends to whatever this was, but he wasn’t complaining if he got to see you sleep in his arms every once in a while.

And it wasn’t like Lucifer was the only one to notice your unusual relationship with one another. You noticed it as well. From the soft touches to the sleepovers at his suite, you knew it was more than just a simple friendship. But what could you do when he still wore his wedding ring?

“What’s happening?” You lay your legs across Lucifer’s lap, taking a glance at the news channel cast upon his suite’s television.

Lucifer rubbed your calf, golden ring a cold contrast to his warm fingers. “They’re interviewing Charlie for her hotel. They know how the extermination happened this year, so I’m hoping the questions are more targeted toward how her hotel will work than how it was fighting angels.”

You frown at the feel of his ring, even more so when he mentions the death of angels. “What happened the last time they interviewed her?”

He scoffed, “They were so rude to her. I mean, I understand we’re in Hell, but she’s their fucking princess. They only brought down her ideas, not asking enough about how she intends to accomplish redemption. I wish I could have done something back then, you know? Show them why I’m the King of Hell.”

You reach across to link a hand with his, giving him a small smile when he meets your glowing pink eyes that match his pair. “Luce, you’re a wonderful parent. I know you want to protect your daughter, but it’s in the past. She knows you love her and look at you two now! You’re supporting her dreams and whatever lies in store for them.”

“Thank you…” He felt the golden ring become heavy on his finger, an uncomfortable weight that was never there appearing. “You’re not half bad of a parent yourself.”

“What?” You let out a confused laugh, thumbing his hand. “I’m not anyone’s parent.”

“Yeah, but—“ He gestured toward the television where they switched the camera toward Charlie before switching to a quick commercial break. “—You've been more of a mother to Charlie than her biological mother in one year. The second you stepped into this hotel, she lit up around you.” His downturned smile grew bigger when you tilted your head. “Charlie may be a very trusting person, but she knows when someone is going to support her with anything she accomplishes. You were one of those people.”

You feel yourself warm at the small confrontation, “I’m sure she thinks of me as any other resident at the hotel, Luce. Don’t boost my ego, you have enough for the both of us.”

“Hey now.” He squeezed your leg. “I’m being nice, and you’re just hurling insults at my face.”

“Me? Never.”

He continued to rub a small pattern, thoughts running back and forth before turning back to you. “I’m serious though. She really loves you… Almost as much as I do.”

Your eyes widened, meeting his eyes that were now glowing a much brighter pink than usual. “You… I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I admire you a lot, beautiful.” He confessed, confidence boosting his voice. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you, and not just because of your looks. You handled Charlie better than I did in the last seven years, and I couldn’t ask for a better person to let her be herself when I’m not around.”

Your eyes glowed brighter at his words, squeezing his hand. “Lucifer, I admire you as much as you love Charlie, but it’s a matter of soulmates versus those of the past.” You gesture toward his ring, pursing your lips at the sight. “Are you sure you’re truly ready to move on? From the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never taken that ring off.”

“I’m sure.” He let his hand holding yours drift up to cradle your cheek, snapping his finger to get rid of the ring and away in his back drawer. “She’s left me for almost a whole decade, I think I have the permission to move on.”

You melt into his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “If it’s what you really want, Luce.”

“It is.” He left a small kiss at your temple. “Because I know you’ll still be with me when all of Hell falls apart and all my magic is gone.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You lean back on the couch, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Will you officially be mine, Lucifer Morningstar?”

“Always, beautiful.” He kept your hands linked as he pressed a promise kiss to your ring finger. “Always.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[avaf00rd]

Behind the scenes

Leah Williamson x matildas!reader

Tiny little blurb I wrote last minute as I rewatched the show

“Hello you” you grinned as you opened the front door, a smiley Leah behind it with her large suitcase and England hoodie on. The Disney plus camera crew behind you. Pretending as if Leah had just gotten home from England camp and you hadn’t seen her yet. Well she had, about an hour ago though.

You grabbed the suitcase from her hand, and pulled her in from her other free wrist, placing a short kiss on her lips and hugging her tight. “How was it?” You asked excitedly whilst you both made your way to your living room.

“Yeah really good, great to see everyone” your girlfriend explained to you leaning against the large book case near your couch. “Plane was quicker than I thought though, only like an hour and a half”

The camera still following both of you “oh yeah wow that’s not bad at all”

“Suppose I had it a bit better than you travel wise” she chuckled, folding her arms now. Nothing to your 20 hours of travel to and from Australia for your own international camp.

“Certainly” you laughed back with Leah.

“Ladies that was actually really great for a first take so we probably won’t need to do that again. We’ll now just get you both on the couch so we can talk to you both” one of the members of the camera said, holding a clip board and directing his crew to your living room

Leah sat down on the shared couch with you following suit behind. Plopping down next to your girlfriend as she put an arm around you, legs intertwined at the end of the couch.

“You guys wanna stay like this for the clips?-“

“Yes” you nodded fast, as people in the room laughed at your certainty.

“Leah can you tell me a bit about y/n. Like how she is as a person but also a teammate?” The same man asked from behind the camera. They would get her answers and these shots for the docu-series.

It be out on Disney plus just months before the World Cup begins, to help Australia get more of an insight into their team and the players

Leah looked down at you, as you shot her a smile before she started “y/n is such a hard worker. I’ve never met anyone like her. Very funny person to have a laugh with…or laugh at” she nodded

You rolled your eyes “saw that coming”

Leah did one of her wide smiles where her cheeks would go so high and her nose would scrunch up which made you melt completely, “so leading onto that she’s a bit clumsy”

“Not all the time” you mumbled

“Everyone at Arsenal calls her the princess though. Because she’s just the sweetheart of the team, who cares about her team so so much and we get to see that every day here in London” you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the couch while Leah spoke about you to the cameras

“Do you just completely hate this?” Leah laughed

“No keep going” you nodded, making her laugh. Leah often got the sense you got all flustered and embarrassed when she spoke about you so well, to other people when you are in the room.

“Y/n what’s it like getting to train each day and play games with your partner?” The producer asked me

“Yeah I’m extremely blessed, I would say, to be able to basically spend every hour of the day with her. And to put on the Arsenal badge and play for our fans with my favourite person is a bit of a win each weekend for me”

“We’re assuming you two meet through Arsenal?” He asked

“Yeah we met at Arsenal when I transferred back in 2019. And then I went on loan to Barca for a season, but then…yeah I came back-“

“And then y/n asked me out!” Leah cut you off with a grin

“Um okay it was kind of you” you looked up at her with a shake of your head.

“Kinda both of us in a way?” Leah shrugged to camera. Which you just shook your head, to said camera.

“They aren’t gonna understand that” you pointed with both arms to the camera, you and Leah now giggling. You both said a few more things they had asked you before the filming stopped.

“Thanks girls! We will see you tomorrow afternoon for more shots, have a great night, hope we didn’t take up too much of your time” a different lady had said now, as she helped her crew pack up some small equipment.

“Not at all!”

————————————————————————

Being one of the few people in your Matilda’s squad who had been apart of the team for over 11 years, you had been in quite a few scenes in the docu-series. Alongside Steph Catley, Sam Kerr, Caitlin Foord, and more. You got the opportunity to talk about your family’s background in the sport and growing up with the Matilda’s, as well as preparations to win the World Cup.

This morning you had done some scenes at the training centre for your club, along with Cait and Steph as you all talked about playing for Arsenal.

The cameras were with you once again, as Now Leah sat on a small picnic blanket in your local park, late afternoon, where you would often bring your dog, Denny, you were trying to get him to run with the ball at his fist like he was about to shoot.

Leah threw her head back laughing hysterically as you fell over your feet once again, tripping on your own dog, in another attempt to get him to play football. “It’s not going to work” she shouted

“He’ll do it Leah just wait!” You shouted back laughing as you kept trying. When you made it back to the picnic blanket, you did what you were asked to do by the crew which was talk about playing each other in the World Cup.

“I always say it but I really really hope both our teams make it to the final, but I don’t think I could handle versing you in a heated game like that”

“You do it all the time though. We’ve had so many heated games against each other”

“Yeah but a World Cup final though…Hopefully one of us will be out by then” Leah shrugged, looking at you from her position on the rug with her knees tucked to her chest

“Hopefully England” you shrugged back

“No I was joking. I hope both teams are” she laughed once again.

“I think the friendly coming up against England just before the World Cup should be good.” You said as Leah nodded “Most players who will be in the World Cup squad should hopefully be in there so we get a full feel of not just the other team but hopefully our own squads”

“Yeah for sure” Leah said

“I can sense you two have a small rivalry in your own house hold” someone’s behind the camera commented

“Mm I don’t know” Leah grinned as you just laughed

“You know it’s true”

———————————

I’m pretty negative about fics like these that I write. Cause I hate this. But honestly it’s due to some of the recent think about my writing my inbox🫠🫠

So please. If you’re not a fan of it, click out of it!

Luv u all

[themultifanshipper]

You hadn’t seen Oscar in years. Not since the two of you broke up back in 2018. Now it was 2027 and he was holding his hand out to you expectantly, as half the MTC stared at the two of you.

Warnings: Zak Brown, driver!reader, reader is friends with Carlos Sainz², jealous Oscar, Oscar is a real prick in this one, hate sex, rough sex, ROUGH sex, I’m not kidding with this one guys it’s angry rough bordering on noncon painful hate sex, like choking almost to the point of passing out, having no regard for the other person’s comfort/safety, overstimulation, pure unbridled animalistic rage in this one guys, beware, also not a happy ending

Ngl, I wrote the first half of this months ago and it was supposed to be super light-hearted, then the angst overtook my brain last night at 3am so… just beware

He was moving to formula Renault, you were bored of single seaters.

You wanted to explore rallying, he wanted to explore his teammates.

You know, the usual things 17 year olds want to do.

The breakup was mutual, sure, but what it lacked was closure. The two of you drifted apart and eventually called it all off, via skype. But you had never looked back, and neither had he. You hadn’t even really thought about him in years.  

Since then, you had made a name for yourself in rallying, nascar, even hanging out in WEC for a season, before going back. When you got a call out of the blue from the one and only Zak Brown, who had apparently been following your career with interest, you could only accept to meet him. He took you around the MTC and even made you do some tests in the sim, then asked if you would be up for testing the car during the season.

“You are being considered to fill one of our seats next year. One of my drivers is having talks with RedBull and I’m covering my bases.” He explained.

You never registered that Oscar was the other McLaren driver. For the next year, you never saw him, and when anyone mentioned his name, your brain apparently blocked it out.

 After extensive individual testing and sim work to make sure you were ready, the thought that you would even have a teammate had completely slipped your mind.

So, there you were, staring into those brown eyes, a month before the beginning of the season, as Oscar waited for you to shake his hand. You realised you’d been staring at him silently for what must have been well over thirty seconds, as the staff around you shuffled around awkwardly.

Zak, who had just ‘introduced’ you, was just looking back and forth between you two, wondering why the hell nobody was speaking.

“You guys need a minute?...”

Still no answer, so he sighed and backed away from you, grumbling “What have I done?... I miss Lando already.”

Once Zak had disappeared from view, Oscar finally dropped his hand and scowled.

“I thought we were going to be civil about this, but if that’s how you want to play it in front of Zak, then that’s fine.” He started to walk away but you cut him off.

“No, wait! I’m sorry!” you rushed out “I just- forgot you were going to be here”

He scoffed. “Here? At my place of work for the past 4 years?”

“No! I mean- I guess my brain hadn’t really assimilated the fact that we… we’re teammates again…”

Something softened in his features for a split second before his face became blank once again. “Yeah? Well, I’m not the same person I was back then, so try not to get distracted. We’re aiming for a constructor’s championship this season, which won’t happen if you’re too busy mooning over me.”

You were speechless as he walked away smoothly, saying hello to a few engineers on the way. What the fuck was his problem? He had become a right arsehole in the 9 years since you’d last spoken. 2027 Oscar was a dick.

He’d also become the broadest, sluttiest proportioned man you’d ever seen as your eyes roamed over his large shoulders and tiny waist before coming to rest on his full, round behind.

Wow.

Zak Brown finally came back, with a rather large coffee cup in his hands. “Ah good, that’s over! Now why don’t we go into my office and we can go over the rest of the formalities for the new-“     Needless to say you didn’t listen to a word that was said in that office.

The thing about having special dispensation to drive in formula 1, is that there was a lot more scrutiny on you than the other drivers. Never mind the fact you were a woman on top of that. Luckily for you though, you had enough talent to go around.

You were fifth in the championship by the time the summer break rolled around, and you couldn’t be happier. Not that you weren’t enjoying the season so far, but the championship battle was intense. Between Redbull having Charles and Lando, You and Oscar in arguably the fastest car, Ollie and Lewis having as much fun in a Ferrari as expected, and even Kimi and George, who managed to grab a fair few podiums with a shitbox of a Mercedes, the margins separating all of you were extremely small, only forty two points between you and Charles in P1.

And although you hadn’t won a race yet, which was pretty normal given that you were a rookie going against the likes of these guys, the commentators and journalists had nothing but praise for you. And you basked in the glory with unbridled satisfaction.

You were on a yacht during summer break, a two day expedition (more like a two day free cruise) and Carlos Sainz Jr (former F1 driver, and your old rally teammate) was on the sun lounger next to you. His father was on one of the lower decks, no doubt hassling the maids for sandwiches.

“Do not worry muñequita, the season will go fine. Oscar just needs time to adjust to having you back in his life basically 24/7”

He pulled you into his lap and started kissing over your chest. Hands roaming over your body as he grumbled “Just like I need to adjust to not having you around all the time…” His mouth wasted no time travelling downwards, your bikini bottoms soon tossed aside, as he made the most of the temporary absence of his father.

You weren’t together really, but your relationship had grown close ever since his dad had helped you get into rallying and you two had subsequently become teammates when he retired from F1 when Williams didn't pan out. Carlos was an amazing lover, and as a woman in motorsports you couldn’t afford any bad PR being viewed as a slut, you needed convenience and discretion, so the arrangement was perfect.

Unfortunately, the next day paparazzi showed up and got some pictures of the two of you. Nothing explicit of course, but it was enough to fuel a few rumours and spice up silly season until the end of the summer break.

During the week leading up to the first race, Oscar was a real sour puss (more than usual anyway) and he kept giving you dirty looks. And he was distracted to the point where his sim runs were just getting worse and worse.

Then there were the snarky remarks. Like when you’d spilled a water jug in the cafeteria and he’d said something like “Messy in all aspects of life, then?”. Or when your car got scratched while parked in the MTC parking lot. He walked past, saw the scratch, snorted derisively and said “Karma’s a bitch, ay” before getting into his own car and driving off.

You had no idea what had gotten into him, but this had to stop, one way or another.

You cornered him in his driver’s room on Sunday morning before the race.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped, storming into his room without even bothering to knock.

He looked up from where he was sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, but he didn't look phased in the slightest.

“I don't know what you're talking about”

“Oh fuck off! Ever since I joined McLaren you've been a complete dick to me and since we came back from break it's been getting even worse!”

He shrugged and looked back at his phone, which enraged you.

So you did the rational thing and walked over to him, ripped his phone out of his hands to see what could possibly be more interesting than-

You froze upon seeing his screen.

It was one of the more… interesting shots of you and Carlos on the yacht from a few weeks ago.

He stood up and grabbed his phone back, but the damage was done.

Not only was it a picture of you and Carlos, but it wasn't on social media, it was in his camera roll.

He'd saved it onto his phone.

The cogs started turning in your head.

‘Messy in all aspects of life’ he’d said.

This was what he was referencing.

You looked into his eyes and they were filled with thinly veiled rage.

“Is this why? Are you fucking jealous?”

He scoffed and pushed past you.

“I most certainly am not. I hope you and Carlos are very happy together.”

He took his shirt off as aggressively as he could and started putting on his fireproofs.

“Me and Carlos aren't together you prick.”

“Really? So what's the deal then? Does he just get to fuck you?”

“What's it to you? You scared of playing second fiddle to Carlos Sainz?”

That made him halt his movements.

“What?” his hands balled into fists.

“You fucking heard me” you spat.

He turned around slowly, his shoulders tense and his nostrils flared.

“You'd better not be suggesting that he's better than me”

You crossed your arms in defiance. “We were 17 and inexperienced, Oscar, it's not hard to do better than that.”

Something animalistic flashed in his eyes. “I guess I need to change your perception of me if you're going to compare me to that fucking loser”

You laughed in his face, but under the surface you were uneasy at the implications.

“Good luck with that one mate”

“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow as he prowled towards you menacingly. “Is he that unbelievable? Does he make you come? Does he fuck you like he means it? Does he make you tremble with need underneath him? Does he make you scream his name?”

He towered over you, only a few inches separating your faces.

“Because I guarantee, once you get a taste of me you won't be going back to him.”

“Do your worst” you whispered, fully turned on by this angry side of Oscar.

“Oh I’m going to” he smirked, “but right now I have a race to win”

And with that he backed off, leaving you unconsciously gripping the edge of the table you’d been cornered against.

As you crossed the threshold of his doorway on your way out, you muttered “coward”, fully intending for him to hear it.

And thank God Oscar didn’t, because if he had, you wouldn’t have been able to get in a car after he’d had his way with you.

You were distracted the whole race. Nerves ran down your spine as you took each corner, not wrong enough to hit a wall, but wrong enough to slow you down.

“Concentrate, please. Leclerc is closing the gap, we don’t want to endanger Oscar’s chances” your engineer muttered over the radio.

“Fuck Oscar” you said, which was entirely unhelpful, and if aired was going to attract quite a bit of backlash.

Fortunately for you, Oscar seemed to be having similar difficulties. He’d dipped his rear tyres into the gravel a couple of times, and with 39 lap old mediums, that meant he was becoming significantly slower than you, being on slightly fresher ones.

You eventually caught up to him, and Charles caught up to you.

You should have been let past. You were faster, you could guarantee a McLaren win. Oscar should have listened to team orders. You shouldn’t have forced him wide to get past when he refused to listen to reason. He shouldn’t have hit you while defending his inside line. You shouldn’t have ended up beached in the gravel trap, Oscar’s car spinning alongside yours. Charles shouldn’t have won that race.

You and Oscar shouldn’t have started brawling on the edge of the track.

Alas...

The loud slam of your driver’s room door against the wall startled you, as if you weren’t expecting it. As if you hadn’t been waiting for him.

As if Oscar hadn’t spat ‘you won’t be able to walk tomorrow’ at you as the marshalls dragged you apart.

As if you weren’t already dripping at the thought of Oscar taking his anger out on you and making you pay for what happened.

His hand was around your throat before you could think too much about it. You were pinned down on the table, nails scratching at the arm that held you down against the cool wood.

The fact that you were soaked was evident as soon as he forced his other hand into your underwear and felt how slick your folds were, and he immediately used his fingers to make you fall apart at the seams as he found the spot that made you weak and abused it repeatedly, his thumb pressing rough circles onto your poor clit.

Only when you’d come twice from his fingers alone was he satisfied.

He’d changed into sweatpants at some point, making it easier for him to pull his hard cock out while still holding you down.

You were used and oversensitive, and the sight of his thickness made you squirm and attempt to tell him to stop, but you didn’t get the chance.

The fingers around your throat were barely letting you breathe, much less get words out, not to mention that you were getting so lightheaded you doubted if your words would even be comprehensible if you did manage to utter them.

When his tip breached you, you tensed, waiting for him to go all the way, but he didn’t.

He waited until you relaxed before he slammed into you, probably bruising your cervix and making sure he made good on his trackside promise.

If you’d been able to make a sound, you would have probably been heard all the way across the paddock. The aching pain just served to add to the fog that was slowly invading your mind as he wasted no time pulling out and thrusting back in with even more force.

It was brutal, uncaring and relentless.

This wasn’t for your pleasure, nor even for his. This was a painful reminder for you both, that you were at the mercy of the sport you dedicated your lives to. You were puppets, made to compete in the most expensive dog fight in the world and you couldn’t do anything to change that. You just had to take it, until you triumphed, or drowned in the condolent applause of failure.

These were the sort of wild thoughts a person could have after being deprived of air for long enough.

Oscar hadn’t even noticed the state you were in until your grip on his arm weakened, and he panicked slightly and quickly loosened his grip, allowing you to heave in the first proper breath you’d had in minutes.

The reprieve didn’t last long though, because he leaned over you and kissed you, more teeth and tongue than a real kiss, but it was all either of you could manage, being so close to the brink of extasy you hadn’t even noticed you’d been nearing. Your body rocked against the table with the powerful movement of his hips slapping yours, the combined sweat of your bodies making the surface slippery.

Your throat was sore, and all you could manage was a pitiful whine as you were tossed over the edge of the precipice, and Oscar jumped with you, both of you panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as he filled you to the brim.

He didn’t stop though. He kept fucking you through it, overstimulating you and himself, both of you crying out into the stale air of your driver’s room.

His anger and desperation could be felt in his unrelenting pace, frenzied thrusts pushing you further and further up the table each time.

Your shared tears mingled with your sweat, clouding your visions as you just kept going.

 It hurt, but that didn’t matter when it was just the two of you, together, bodies colliding, unspoken words hanging between you.

It hurt, but it felt good.

The pain grounded you, making sure you stayed locked in even when you couldn't breathe.

He filled you up again and again, until he physically couldn’t anymore. He pulled out without care and pulled his sweats back up.

He took in your appearance: skin flushed, glistening with sweat and tears, bruises forming around your neck, puffy cunt leaking onto the table… pathetic.

He made his way to the door but stopped just as his hand touched the handle.

“Don’t try that shit ever again” and the next thing you heard was the door slam behind him.

You both knew you would do it again. And he would do it as soon as he got the chance, probably leading to another crash.

And you would probably end up right back here, used and spent, unable to move.

Tears sprang to your eyes, anyone could walk in and see you like this, utterly destroyed physically and mentally by your teammate.

It took you several minutes to gather the energy to move, and when you did the pain flashed across your body once again.

He'd used you, made you take it until he had nothing left to give. Until you lay there, broken like a discarded toy.

But God, you both knew you craved it.

[dprvivi]

„IS THIS OKAY?“

jongseob x fem!reader

fluff, angst/comfort

summery: you and your boyfriend finally talk about going further in your relationship

a/n: i got feral for the idea of jongseob as a first boyfriend so I wrote this.

warnings: suggestive but no smut

Jongseob and you have been together for a few months now, you didn’t specifically know why sex never really came up in a conversation so far but let’s be real you also didn’t jump at the opportunity to talk about it either. Have you thought about having sex with him? Definitely,but we’re you to shy to initiate anything? Also definitely.

Nothing has ever really happened more then some making out but you could also count the times that you two really had a hot and steamy Make out with one hand. Was he just shy or did he not want to have sex? Also a question that you probably should have talked about weeks ago.

Tonight was the first time in a bit that you were over at the p1h dorm. They have been working so much that you didn’t have time for a sleepover.

You were currently snuggled up to jongseob on his bed playing Mario Kart against each other.

„oh my god can you at least give me a chance“ you pouted jokingly at him, not looking up from the screen.

„just admit I’m a better player then you“ he said with a smirk on his face that you luckily could see right now because at the pure sight of that you would have melted.

„Stoooop“ you whined, putting your hands on his eyes so he couldn’t see the screen. He tried to move his head but you kept moving your hands to block his vision. „y/nnnnn I’m losing, this is not fair!“ he said while giggling and laughing so hard you could barely focus on what he was saying.

He moved his hands up to yours trying to move your hands from his eyes. At this point both of aren’t paying attention to the game as you two stated play fighting.

He had your arms in a tight grip, teasingly pocking your waist because you couldn’t fight back. You both were laughing so hard, he took his chance and got on top of you but the mood really shifted when he did. He kissed you once pulling away looking into your eyes for permission that you happily gave him.

He kissed you again, this time much deeper. His one hand started wondering up to your shirt, staying above it tho, using the other hand to hold himself up.

After looking at you and waiting for permission, you gave him a nod and he continued to explore your body with his hands.

His hand slipped under you shirt reaching up to your bra and caressing your soft skin. He started lowering his hand, going lower and lower until he was at your pajama pants, waiting for your slight nod again before pulling them down.

He threw your pants to the side not looking away from you once, not paying attention to anything but you.

He took his shirt off and you could have melted right that second. Your hands moved to his body, touching every inch of his chest and stomach.

Your heart was racing, when he started to kiss your neck you couldn’t hold back anymore. „Seob…“ you moaned, he stilled his movements for a moment, looking you into the eyes „is this okay?“ he looked at you in such a caring way, ready to pull away the second you are uncomfortable.

Saying you were shy when it comes to intimacy was an understatement but it just felt so right when you two were together.

„yes…“ taking a second looking into his eyes „ I don’t know“ you said quietly.

He pulled away a bit more, his eyes shifted to a very worried gaze but at the same time you knew that he knew exactly what you meant. You have never talked about this before and in that moment you two were really aware of that.

You were … scared? Was this what you were feeling? You weren’t sure but you didn’t have another word to describe what you were feeling.

He moved to sit besides you, noticing that tears have formed in the corners of your eyes and you have moved your arms to cover your stomach.

„hey hey hey it’s okay sweetheart … it’s a lot I know“ he said while giving you a little smile and moving some hair from your face.

You moved towards him hugging him tightly. That was really what you needed in that moment and he did two. He hugged you tightly, rubbing circles on your back.

„have you…“ you started stumbling over your words not really knowing how to ask if he has ever had sex before. „i mean… well“ „have you ever“

„had sex?“ he said. Pretty much just as shy and nervous about the topic as you were.

You nodded, both of you shifting positions, so that your head was on his chest and he was resting his body against the wall. He was still holding you tight and you started playing with his hands.

„…no“ he said, you can tell he was trying to not make it awkward and he was honestly doing pretty well.

You took a breath finally relaxing against him „me neither“ you chuckled softly. You both were kind of realizing that you should and could have talked about this way sooner.

„do you want to take things slower?“ he asked. „I don’t think so, I think I was just a bit overwhelmed. Do you want to take things slower?“ you answered, playing with his hands and finally interlock fingers with him.

„i just want you to be comfortable, we can go your speed, okay?“ he said. you nodded, being so grateful for how he is reacting right now. „thank you seob�� you said as he kissed the top of your head from behind.

„Can I ask you something?“ he asked nervously. You nodded, turning around to face him.

„Are you on the pill? Is that weird to ask? I’m sorry“ he rambled. „No no it’s fine“ you cut him off. „I’m not on the pill“. You answered him.

he was silent for a moment „do you want me to take the pill?“ you said. „No… I mean if you want to… but you definitely don’t have to! We can just use condoms… I mean if we… you know“ he quickly answered kind of stumbling.

You brought your hand to his face, rubbing circles on his cheek with you thumb. You kissed him to stop him from circling. It wasn’t the kind of steamy one from before, it was one full of your love.

„Do you want to watch movie?“ he asked with his hands still around you and your faces close together. „Yes but I want to pick“ he laughs at your response, as he gave you another quick kiss on the lips before releasing you from his tight grip.

„Okay cmon“ he chuckled as he reaches for the remote.

a/n: i am still new to writing feedback is appreciated! Also I definitely wrote this with my love @kisseobie in mind!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 2: Lactation kink

A/n: I have wifi again so I don't have to panic about writing and posting these anymore :)

Warnings: Smut, lactation kink (I hope I wrote it right), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

James had made sure to get all his work done before the baby came, the rest of the band took on as much work as they could so he would have even less to do before the baby came. He wanted to be able to spend as much time with you and the baby as he could.

He was so very involved, coming to all the classes he could, reading any book on parenting he could find, finishing up the nursery. When the baby finally came he was right beside you the whole time, excusing when he left to get you food and water and anything else you needed.

The months wore on, James had started getting back to band stuff, though he never took on more than one or two things a week, even then they weren't big things. He was more focused on your new baby, singing them to sleep and then falling asleep in the nursery.

James was always willing to take care of the baby whenever you needed a nap or bath or anything, however, when it came to feeding time he'd always get you.

You weren't sure why, he loved doing everything else, you had bottles to give your baby and he never even left the room while you fed them, but he was adamant on you doing it.

He'd made up some excuse about breastfeeding being better for the baby, that it was better this way... but the bottles were also full of your breastmilk so it still didn't add up.

It confused you but you didn't mind, you loved feeding your little sweetheart.

You were sat in the corner of the nursery in the armchair, it was almost their bedtime so you were giving them a last feeding. James had come in not long ago but didn't say anything and was just sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, elbows resting on his knees as he watched with great interest.

When you were sure the baby had had enough you set them down in the crib, tucking them in and kissing their forehead sweetly. James was already behind you, hands on your hips and as he leaned down to kiss the baby you felt him pushing against you, hard-on poking your ass.

"You know, I'd prefer if you didn't get horny in front of my sweetheart." You teased. You knew he was pent up, hell, you were too. When you first had the baby you were too sore to do anything and babies are a lot of work but once you settled into a schedule... it didn't get much better, really.

"Not my fault you're too damn sexy." He muttered, planting a kiss on your neck before nipping at your earlobe, slowly guiding you out of the nursery and back to your shared room.

He had you sat up against the headboard, both your clothes scattered across the room. Your lips were bruised and your neck was littered with love bites, more beginning to form as James kissed up your stomach.

"Fuck, I missed this." He groaned, large hands coming up to cup your chest, squishing and massaging the tender tissue as you'd asked him to do a few times before.

You couldn't help but notice the extra attention he was paying to your chest, always reaching for it, staring at it whenever he had the chance.

James wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him so you were straddling his lap, bringing him eyelevel with your tits. His skilled tongue swirled around your perky nipple before he took it into his mouth.

You stared down at him, hands in his hair as he sucked on your tit.

"Jamie... what the fuck are you doing..?" You asked with a soft chuckle. Your laughter stopped when you felt that tingly feeling in your tit. "Jamie-" James cut you off with a hand over your mouth.

He pulled away from your chest and moved up to kiss you. "So pretty just like that for me." His hand moved from your mouth and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

You felt his hands on your chest again, groping you once more, this time closer to your nipples and causing more milk to squirt from them.

Normally you loved when he played with your chest, this time wasn't much different really, it was just a new feeling, a tingly one that ended with James's hips bucking.

You took it upon yourself to line him up with your hole, sinking down on him and moaning at the familiar stretch you'd been missing this whole time.

James wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you tight as he thrust his hips up into yours. It had been awhile, you didn't blame him for being eager and needy, you were the same, but you weren't the one sucking a swollen tit and massaging his chest.

Fuck it, it felt good, the baby was sleeping, and you were already so close as James hit that same spot over and over, rocking your body on the bed.

You could feel his thrusts losing their rhythm but you couldn't bring yourself to care, his tongue on you, his hands on you, your body shook with pleasure as James released himself in you.

Your eyes shot open. "James! Condom!" You exclaimed, his head, in the crook of your neck.

He pulled back slowly, eyes raking over your body, his hands still on your chest, cupping your tits. "What about 'em?" He asked, not taking his eyes away from your red nipples. "Why not get you pregnant again? I like your big belly." He said with that horse smile of his. "Besides, I can't get enough of this..." He trailed, squirting more milk from you, watching it trickle over you.

[lokis-army-77]

OK, so I know I *could* write this, but my WIPs are ridiculous, and you wrote Demon Eddie so well that he lives rent free in my head.

I was thinking Incubis Eddie, where reader thinks shes just having very horny dreams with this thing, and then he visits her when he thinks she's asleep but she's not...

Feel free to add your own flavours, or ignore this horny thot entirely up to you babe x

Hunger

Incubus!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2k

A demon awaits you in your room when you arrive home from a night out.

Warning: 18 +. multiple orgasms, some licking (f reviving), fingering (vaginal and anal), CNC?, some hair pulling, blood.

And thank you to @lofaewrites for beta reading 💗

Masterlist

He had started showing up in the dark corners of your room only a month ago. It was after you had watched some horror movie with a friend and instead of being afraid like every normal person in the theater, you were turned on. 

In the dreams you had of him, you weren't scared either even when he came into the light and bared his two rows of needle-sharp teeth, even when his horns made him appear taller and the wings stretching from his bare back made him look broader. 

Each night he visited you was another wonderful exploration of your wants and desires. You couldn't get enough of him and when you woke only to find that the pleasure and the pain had all been a dream, you sulked to yourself as you missed the feel of those long, clawed fingers scratching at your skin.

You had come home way later than you usually would on a weeknight. Only coming through your front door at around three in the morning. A long-time friend of yours had gotten married and the reception had gone on longer than you would have liked. The bride and groom had left at around twelve but the party raged on without them. You called it quits when the ache in your feet could no longer be ignored and instead of conversation, all you could do was yawn. 

Trudging through your front door you kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the table in the entryway. You’re exhausted and all you want is to go to bed.

As you walk through your house, everything seems normal, until you flip the lights on in your bedroom. You freeze when you see it. A dark mass by the head of your bed bent over and pulling at the clumped-up sheets. 

The creature whips around, its hair falling into its face as it growled. Its wings spread out to make itself look bigger and it bared its rows of sharp teeth.  You take a step back, fear gripping onto you. But then, as you look at the strange form, you are met with a familiar feeling. This wasn’t a strange creature, no it was what visited you in your dreams. 

Confusion fell over you then. He was just a dream. He wasn’t real so why were you seeing him in your room? You don’t remember falling asleep anywhere. Shaking your head, you pinch your arm, thinking it might wake you up like it does in the movies but all you feel is the sharp pain it brings to your forearm. 

Cautiously, you take a step forward, hands out, showing the creature you didn’t intend to do anything rash. “Hello,” you speak softly. His eyes slit as he stares at you. “Uh.. what are you doing here?” You ask. He had never really talked to you in your dreams before but it didn't hurt to try. 

“You aren’t supposed to be awake.” He answers, voice deep. 

 You take a deep breath. "What do you mean?" you ask.

He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. "You know what I mean."

When he steps toward you, you step back, only to run into the door. Where there should have been a sense of dread, there was only a spark. A tingling sensation coiling up inside of you the closer he came.  

He reaches out his hand, claw-like nails giving him a more sinister look, and brushes back the strands of your hair that had fallen out of the updo you had been wearing for the wedding. You shiver when you feel his nails tickle your skin.  

You can feel your heart beating faster as he shuffles closer to you, his larch body towering over yours. A gasp leaves you when he unexpectedly grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavers as he walks you over to the bed and throws you down. Your body bounces at the force and once you settle, you try to back away from him. 

He huffs, frustrated. “You aren’t this much of a hassle when you’re sleeping.” He takes hold of your ankle and drags you back down the bed. You try to wriggle free, but he is too strong. He grabs the other ankle and pulls you towards him, trapping you between his body and the mattress. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming over you. 

You can’t help the flood of arousal that washes over you as you struggle against him. He’s smirking like this is a game to him and it’s only making you more flustered. 

Leaning down, his lips press into yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. It’s forked, just like in your dreams, but now, with what little he’s said, you wonder if they were really dreams at all. 

The kiss is fierce, full of strong emotions and wandering hands. He tugs on your dress and you can hear the fabric beginning to tear. You try to pull away and to stop him but he’s so much stronger than you. 

You feel the needle-sharp tips of his teeth nip you, drawing blood from your bottom lip. He laps it up, humming at the metallic taste. Your fingers drag lines over his back and sides as you fall deeper into the feral, primal instincts now controlling you. 

His hardened length can be felt pressing into your thigh as he ruts into you. His kisses are rough and desperate, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pulls you closer. He whispers in your ear, "Let me take what I need and I will let you sleep.” 

You’re nodding before you can stop yourself. The growing need for him is too much to resist now. 

The creature hums, satisfied at your submission. Soon, your dress is finally ripped off of you, along with your undergarments. You are left completely bare to him, nipples pebbling in the cool air of your room and thighs snapping shut at being so exposed. 

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest and he’s quick to open your legs up. Long, deft fingers trail down your exposed skin, goosebumps coming up in their wake. He takes his time, coaxing you into a more relaxed state with gentle caresses and warm lips sucking marks into your skin.

“Ah.” A moan leaves you when you feel him bite at your collarbone. Tiny pinpricks that draw the smallest amount of blood. His tongue laved over the wound and he let out a groan. 

His hand finally reaches between your legs and you let out a cry of relief when his thumb rubs over your clit. His other hand moves up to cup your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth moves over your neck and he whispers in your ear, “You are so sensitive.” His fingers slid through the wetness faster over your clit. 

Your hips move in tandem with his hand, bucking and writhing. He lets you take what you need.  His fingers move faster still as you begin to moan and gasp. His other hand moves down to your hip and grips as your body jerks with each wave of pleasure. “Fuck-” you breathe. You can feel the all-too-familiar sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“That’s it. Give it to me.” He whispers into your ear as your back arches and your toes curl.  

Your breath hitches as your body tenses. Your voice breaks and you cry out in pleasure as you reach your peak. His grip tightens as you collapse onto the bed. 

The creature moans into your neck and he keeps rubbing his fingers into you, slowly moving them down from your clit to circle around your soaking-wet entrance. You whimper in his strong grip. 

“Please,” you gasp. He doesn’t stop, he pushes two of his fingers into you, pulling a wail from your lungs. You are clamping down around him, cunt practically sucking his fingers. 

There are squelching sounds coming from the fluid motion of his fingers roughly bounding into you. Your pleas and moans accompany the sounds and it’s like music to the creature's ears.   

He fingers you with abandon, pushing and pulling with force and speed. Your orgasm builds with each thrust of his fingers, your pleasure becoming more intense with each passing second. Your body goes rigid in his hold and as you cum for a second time. 

“No more,” you mumble, spent and exhausted. 

You hear him chuckle, “I’m not done with you, pet.” 

When his fingers leave your used cunt, a whine leaves you at the loss and you feel yourself clamping down around nothing. He is turning you onto your stomach before you know it. Your head is buried in the sheets and your body lies like a board. 

With closed eyes, you can only assume what he is doing behind you as you feel his body atop your own. Thick fingers push apart the fat of your ass to expose you. The tickle of his hair as he leans down to lick a thick stripe from your pussy to the tight ring of your ass makes you twitch, a small bit of exhausted laughter pushing through you. 

He pulls back and you can feel his thumb toying with your ass, circling and pushing in just slightly. He has moved to his legs are on either side of your closed thighs. You can feel the hardness of his cock resting along the seam of where your legs meet. He’s hot and leaking pre-cum. 

Wiggling your hips, you encourage him to keep going. He then guides his cock closer, pressing the tip through the sticky wetness and into your waiting pussy. 

You moan into the bed at the stretch, hands gripping the sheets. He’s so big that he makes you feel so full without being completely inside you. 

He keeps pushing into you, grunting and hissing at the feel of your cunt spasming around him. Once he is fully sheathed inside you he begins to piston his hips. In and out in and out. He’s fucking you at a brutal pace. Giving you pleasure but also taking what he wants from you. 

His thumb is still circling your ass but as he keeps going, he finally pushes past your tight rim. You cry out into the open air of your bedroom. His thumb is thick and stretches you open where you have never been stretched before. 

“Fuck, yes.” You mumble into the sheets below. 

He grins. “You like that pet? Like when I use this pretty ass?”

You nod, hair tangling under your face as you do. “Yes, yes, yes.” It's the only word you can get out of your mouth. 

Listening to your words he begins to thrust his thumb in and out of you at the same unwaveringly fast pace that his hips have set. 

You can’t help the guttural groan you let out. It’s all becoming too much. So many sensations are filling your body, some familiar and others new. The strings of your orgasm have been pulled taut and are slowly breaking one by one. Your fists clench and your legs spasm. The creature reaches to your head and pulls on your hair at the base of your neck. Your head is forced up and with a half cry half moan, you cum around him as he releases thick stream after thick stream into you. 

As he keeps himself buried within you, he leans down and bites at your ear before speaking. “I may have to visit you when you are awake again, pet. You take me so well.” 

He pulls out and moves away, fast and unexpectedly, leaving you to drop, spent, and used on the bed. You turn slowly to look for him but your eyes find him nowhere in your room. It was empty, he had vanished into thin air. 

Soon he will return, hunger no longer sated by the sexual energy that you have given him tonight.  

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[nikkento-writes]

Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble. 

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. “There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.  

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk [part 2 | paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige reunite, but in the worst way possible

a/n: i wrote this part like a month ago but i never posted it. im not sure about continuing this series because i dont have a vision for how i want it to go

word count: 3.4k

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You shut your eyes, exhaling. The breath that came out was shaky, and you hated it. You hated feeling this weak and unstable before a game, when usually you were all collected and confident.

Your brain was a battle of emotions. Your school, USC, was facing off against UConn in a pre-season match today, and since it was the first game of October, the administration on both teams had agreed to dedicate this game to Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

In a kind gesture that had left you at a loss for words, your head coach Gottlieb had organized custom pink shirts for the entire team to wear during warmup, with a painting of your grandma’s face in the front and one of her quotes on the back - “Strength is not the absence of fear, but the courage to confront it.” Your grandma had been a force in the basketball world, being one of the founders and fighters of the WNBA, and you knowed that part of the reason why both USC and UConn were rallying so hard for breast awareness was because both coaches knew of your relationship with your grandma.

After taking a few more deep breaths, you felt calm enough to rejoin your team as they warmed up their shooting. Looking around, you laid eyes on Paige, who was silently stretching in the corner. You took her in - her blonde hair was up in her typical game day do, with her braids in the front and the rest of her hair collected into a tight ponytail. She looked good, her cheeks slightly rosy, her eyes concentrated. You felt your heatt flutter as you examined her, but your heart suddenly dropped when you realized what she was wearing.

You knew this was bad idea, but you couldn’t help yourself. You found your legs pacing towards Paige, carrying you with a level of authority you didn’t know you had.

“What the fuck is this?”

Paige turned around, her resistance band now hanging limp in her hand. She did a double take once she realized who’d just spoken to her, her eyes carefully and unashamedly taking you in. “What?”

You gestured aggressively at her ahirt. “Take it off.”

Paige’s eyes hardened as she leaned back from you. “Excuse me?”

“I said, take it off.” Your voice was icy and unfamiliar to your own ears. In your peripheral vision, you saw heads starting to turn, as girls from both teams watched with curiosity as you stepped closer to Paige, anger drawn on both of your faces.

“Where did you even get it from?” Your voice trembled as you studied Paige’s shirt again. It was familiar to you, because you had the exact same one, just in different colors, hanging up in your room. It was your grandma’s jersey, from her high school team in the 1960s. As far as you knew, she only had a few, and she’d given one to you, one that you’d viligantly taken care of since you’d received it.

Paige raised her chin defiantly. “She gave it to me.”

Those words knocked you off your feet, and you stumbled even though you’d been standing still. “No, she didn’t.” Paige only gritted her teeth without responding. Desperate for a reaction, for anything than just silence, you continued, “She wasn’t even your grandma.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. Over the course of your friendship and then relationship, Paige had gotten almost as close to your grandma as you were. They had adored each other, and back then you had loved the way they loved each other. But now, you couldn’t seem to hate anything more.

You were spiraling, a destructive disarray of grief and bitterness and jealousy. When your grandma had died two months ago, you’d wished that Paige would’ve done more then send a couple of DMs on Twitter. But she didn’t, hadn’t reached out after that, which you couldn’t exactly blame her for because she owed no obligation to comfort you. You guys weren’t even dating anymore. But you’d hopelessly wanted Paige to do more, to show up on your doorstep and take you into her arms.

Paige, seemingly unaffected by your desperate words, regarded you coolly. “How would you know?” she asked menacingly, the hostility in her tone sending shivers down your spine. “You weren’t even there for her in the last few months.” She paused before landing her final blow. “But guess who was?” Her eyebrows cocked as she brushed past you and went back to her team on the court.

It felt like Paige had physically hit you, the way your heart stuttered and your mind reeled. You clenched your first, wishing you’d never came over here in the first place.

“Hey.” A gentle hand brushed your shoulder. Familiar perfume filled your nostrils, and you turned around to see Caroline.

Holding back a sob, she opened her arms and you fell into them. This was too much. Your nasty exchange with Paige, combined with the loss of your grandma still achingly fresh in your mind, along with the guilt of seeing the team that you’d left without so much as a goodbye. You’d been avoiding their looks the entire warmup. Nika had tried to talk to you earlier, but you’d brushed her off. And now, Caroline was standing in front of you, with the softest smile on her face as if you hadn’t ghosted her for the last year.

Caroline, one of your closest friends from your two years at UConn, comfortingly rubbed your back as you embraced her. When you pulled back, you almost couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry,” you rasped, looking down.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” The kindness in her tone almost sent you into another fit.

“But I do.” You bit your bottom lip. “I transferred to USC without telling any of you guys. And when I left, I didn’t even bother to say goodbye. All I did was send a stupid text.” You kicked the ground, chastising yourself for how you’d treated your closest friends.

“You were hurting.” Caroline squeezed your arms. “We all understand. None of us are mad, alright? We all just miss you.” When you didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed with guilt, she nudged you. “You wanna make it up to us?”

You nodded quickly. Anything.

“Come hang with us after. At my place. No bar, nothing public. Just you and us. We can catch up, you can tell us all about USC and we’ll give you all the latest drama here.”

Thoughts of Pauge flashed through your mind before you shut it down. It was time to stop putting your feelings over Paige before your friends. You had to rebuild the gap, for the sake of the girls that you loved. “I’ll be there,” you responded, and Caroline’s eyes lit up with a grin.

“Great,” she beamed. “And about your grandma. I’m so sorry, babe. She was a really good person.”

You nodded. “Thank you. She really was.” Caroline gave you one last hug before you both parted ways to finish warming up before the game.

———————————-

Sweat dripped off your temples. You blinked roughly, trying to stave off the fogginess creeping in at the edge of your vision. Your muscles ached, screaming for oxygen and a break from the constant back-and-forth of the game. Whenever you opened your mouth, your throat burned from all the screaming you’d done over the past hour to attempt to communicate as well as UConn was doing.

It was no use. You’d been part of the UConn system before, and the drills that Geno had spent hours on, making sure you guys talked through every play, calling out unders or overs on screens, back door cuts, and picks, made the defensive coordination of UConn the best in the nation. Your team was starting to loosen at the seams and fall behind, and you could sense it.

The entire game had been intense, a battle of aggression between the two teams seemingly fueled by the personal vendettas between you and Paige, each captains of your respective teams. She was relentless, having scored 30 points with 2 minutes left in the last quarter. You’d yet to defend her, which was a relief. You didn’t know if you could bear all the aggressive contact, the tensions, the overflow of emotions that would occur once you started to guard her.

After Aaliyah posted up to score another latup, Gottlieb signaled for a time out. “Alright,” she declared, focusing her eyes on you. “You’re taking Paige. I want you to press her hard. Keep your weight off your heels and don’t cross your feet.”

You squirted water into your mouth, nodding. You guys were down by 5 points, and shutting down Paige was the main priority right now. USC broke, but Juju grabbed your arm. “Hey,” she said lowly. “Keep your emotions out of this, alright? Focus on the game.”

You clenched your jaw, avoiding eye contact with your best friend. “I got it. I want to win just as much as you do.”

“Okay.” Juju clearly didn’t believe you, but she released your arm and jogged back to her spot. You rolled back your shoulders. Right now was not the time to think about how Paige was looking at you, or how her girlfriend was sitting court-side, just a few feet from your assigned spot. You wiped the bottom of your shoes, trying to get rid of the sweat in your palms and add some traction to your feet. Leslie eyed you the entire time, smacking her gum loudly. “Come on, Paige!” she cheered with an obnoxious grin as soon as she made eye contact with you. You clenched your jaw, feeling Juju give you a warning look from across the court.

One of your teammates unbounded the ball, and you took off across the court. Rayah stepped out to set a screen, but you drove baseline away from it. You received the ball as you reached the post, and you passed it to Juju, who was waiting at the 3. The play ran beautifully, but as the ball arched towards Juju, a hand reached up and knocked it down.

Paige grabbed the ball and passed it down the court to Nika. You sprinted to defense, heart pumping, fueled by the humiliation of getting a pass intercepted, and by Paige of all people. You reached Nika, lunging for the ball in a desperate last second attempt, but she side stepped you for the layup, sending you flying across the floor.

You heard the oohs of the crowds as you landed hard on your butt, your ankle twisted underneath you. Biting your lip to muffle your shout of pain, you clenched your jersey to try and assuage the throbbing in your tailbone and leg.

You heard a commotion around you, and suddenly there was Paige, standing above you, concern etched into her eyebrow. She held out a hand, but Juju quickly appeared, bending down to touch your elbow and offering her own hand. Ignoring Paige, you wrapped both of your hands around Juju’s as she heaved you up.

Paige stepped back, her mouth in an unforgiving line. “You okay?” she asked, tone haughty and neutral.

“She’s fine,” Juju snapped, stepping protectively between the two of you. “Give her some space, will you?”

Paige held her hands up in surrender and took a couple steps back. Her gaze on you stayed with unwavering intensity, though. But you avoided it, like you’d done the entire game, and let the trainer examine you.

“You good?” Nika ran up to you, chest heaving. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah.” You smiled in reassurance at her. “Not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

Nika nodded as the trainer helped you up and led you off the court. Paige’s gaze burned into your back, but when you turned around, she quickly averted her eyes.

You hadn’t injured yourself, only taken a rough fall, but you still sat on the bench for the remaining minute of the game. Unfortunately, with your dominating presence out, USC couldn’t catch up, and your team lost by a single heartbreaking point.

You walked slowly as USC and UConn formed lines to wish each other a good game. You’d been nervous beforehand, thinking about what to say to the girls, but Caroline had told the truth. None of them seemed to have anything against you, all pulling you in for a tight hug and telling you how good you played and how much they missed you. So although you were exhausted and your ankle was starting to throb again, you knew that you had to go to Caroline’s hangout.

—————————-

“Oh my god, come in!” You chuckled as Azzi opened the door and practically started jumping on her heels from excitement. You grabbed Juju’s hand and led her in from behind you. She was there for backup, a familiar face in a sea of once familiar faces. When you’d asked the Uconn girls if she could come, they’d all happily agreed, saying that they’d been wanting to meet the freshman phenom that had taken the basketball world by storm.

The girls were scattered around Caroline’s apartment. Some of them were sprawled on the couch, watching an NBA game as if they hadn’t had enough basketball for the night. Others were drinking wine in the kitchen and picking at a charcuterie board. Thankfully, you didn’t see any sign of a blonde when you scanned the room, and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“Hey guys, this is Juju.” Juju waved her hand shyly, and everyone clambered up to meet her. You smiled at the scene. Despite rivalries on the court and the vigor that UConn played with, you knew they left behind all of that once the shot clock buzzed for the final time. These girls were the nicest you’d ever met, welcoming everyone as their own.

You and Juju found a spot on the couch. You were almost getting comfortable before the door swung open and a familiar laugh filled the room. You didn’t bother to look up, trying to play it cool, but when Juju laid a hand on your arm in warning the same time an unfamiliar voice resonated, you realized that a certain brunette had came too.

Masking your face with indifference, you congratulated yourself for having the power to control your facial expression once Paige and Leslie tumbled into the family room, Leslie’s hands attached to Paige’s waist as they both laughed, obviously already having put some drinks into their system before coming here. You ignored the silence that had fallen over the rest of the team as they realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” Caroline mouthed from her spot on the armchair. “I didn’t know she was gonna be here.”

You only shrugged, your eyes focused on your lap as you tried to maintain your facade of apathy. Juju shifted closer to you in support, and you’d never loved her more.

“Okay!” Caroline said brightly, cutting through the heavy tension in the room. “Who wants a margarita?” All the girls cheered, and the ambience in the apartment returned as conversations resumed.

This is only awkward if you let it be awkward, you thought. You and Paige had broken up over a year ago. You could be civil. You were so over her. But you knew you were lying from the way your insides jolted when Leslie leaned in to press a loud kiss on Paige’s cheek.

Soon, some of the girls started recording Tiktoks and doing silly dances. You turned down their offers to make a cameo in their videos, content with just watching. As you observed rhem, it dawned on you how much you’d missed them. Their silliness made you laugh in a way you hadn’t laughed at in a long time. Throughout the entire night, you tried to pretend as if Paige and Leslie didn’t exist, although it was hard with the exuberant amount of PDA they were showing. They were sitting on each other’s laps, their hands wandering, and they weren’t making out but you almost wish they were so that you wouldn’t have to see either of their faces.

“Paige! Did you come here to celebrate or eye fuck your girlfriend the entire time?” KK yelled, waving a Nintendo controller. “Come play Smash Bros.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she caught the controller that KK threw at her. She wrapped around Leslie, who was still on top her lap, and started to press buttons on the controller as she chose her chatacter. You stiffened at the memory of Paige doing the exact same thing with you, all those late nights she’d played Fortnite with the team, you falling asleep with your head in the crook of her neck as she gamed. It’d always ended with her carrying you to bed, tucking you in and wrapping her arms around yours.

“Watch out KK,” Leslie joked. “P is a beast at Smash Bros.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at smashing,” Paige teased, her words dripping with sexual undertones. Everyone groaned, and Leslie giggled, a high pitched and screeching noise that you thought could be used as torture for prisoners if put on replay.

Leslie reached for her margarita, but her movements were sluggish from her tipsy state, causing the alcohol to slosh over the side of the cocktail glass. Immediately, Paige jumped up, hurriedly removing Leslie from her lap as she examined herself. It was only then that you realized that Paige had taken off the sweater she’d arrived with and was now in your grandma’s jersey, a jersey that now sported a large wet stain.

“Leslie, oh my god.” She yelled, her voice panicked. “I told you to be careful.”

“Oh shit, my bad.” Leslie set down her drink and reached for Paige, who stepped backwards and away from her touch.

“You fucker.” The words were out of your mouth before you knew it, and all eyes in the room turned to you. Juju kicked you nervously, but you ignored her. “How could you?” You rushed over to Paige, looking closely at the jersey now reeking with alcohol. You held back tears as you saw the print already starting to fade. The jersey was 60 years old, already fragile and old, and you knew that it was now as good as ruined.

Paige turned to Leslie. “I thought I told you not to fucking drink while you were around me. You know how important this jersey is to me.”

Leslie stood rigid, her expression now calculated. “You guys are being so dramatic. Let me have the jersey. I’ll go wash it and bring it back good as new.”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch it.” You turned from Leslie, gently touching the frayed ends with shaky fingers. “You can’t just wash it. It’ll fall apart. Oh my god, you just ruined one of the only things my grandma left us.” Your voice was choked now, tears forming at your eyes. “Shit!” You slammed your first into the ground in anger.

The team exchanged hesitant looks, worry clear in their eyes. Juju came up from behind you. “Come on, babe,” she whispered. “I’m sure we can do something about it. Let me take a look, hmm?”

You moved aside, but from the look on Juju’s face as the faded patches and stressed seams became visible as she studied it, you knew there was no use. The tears started falling then, an uncontrollable stream that left you feeling broken. “Excuse me,” you whimpered, and you ran into the bathroom, locking yourself inside.

You heard murmurs of the team outside. You heard the front door slam. Soon, someone knocked softly on the door. “It’s Juju,” your friend called, and you resignedly unlocked the door and let her inside before shutting it again.

You slumped down on the ground, you face in your hands. “Oh,” Juju whispered, and she knelt down next to you as you started to sob.

Another knock came in, followed by a tentative voice calling your name. You exchanged looks with Juju, who got up and slipped outside.

“Are you serious right now?” Juju’s voice was muffled, but you could still hear the fury radiating from her words. “You know you’re the reason she’s crying right now?”

“I know.” A pause. “I need to apologize.”

“She doesn’t wanna see you right now.”

You heard Paige‘s sharp intake of breath. “Juju, please.”

You could practically feel Juju’s hesitance, but she must‘ve relented, because when the door opened, it was Paige who stepped in.