#or well she'd TRY at least

[littlemissgeek8]

A few weeks ago, after one of our current D&D sessions, our DM (the same one from our previous NaCl campaign) started talking about some early plans he had for the previous campaign. One of these plans involved us helping a "collector" of various monsters, which would have culminated in him capturing our druid friend Edan, with the intent to trap him and steal some of his Solar powers. Thankfully this plotline never happened because we shattered a pocket dimension and rescued Edan before the plans would have gone into motion, but it was a lovely, angsty plotline.

And well, after playing Baldur's Gate 3, it was basically a Dame Aylin situation, and I couldn't leave the idea alone. So, I had to doodle something, but kinda with the idea of a similar plot happening after the campaign finished. Hey, a girl's gotta draw self-indulgant stuff some of the time, right?

[dapperrokyuu]

Needing a Sua perspective from the ALNST auditions to Round 1. I never put much thought into what happens to the cast post-Anakt Garden graduation (do they immediately go to the auditions? Is there a period of time where they dont see each other until they recognize each other at the audition? Theres a considerable amount of time between the auditions and their Alien Stage season, did they see each other often between then or...? etc.), but regardless, imagine being her and having to choose between sabotaging your own audition so you dont have to go the the Sing, Win, or Die Show or putting your in your all in hopes of winning and spending just a bit more time with this girl you love because you know itll likely be the last time you see her. Imagine...

[britishchick09]

i know it's too early to think about getting a new cat, but my mom has been looking at a shelter nearby in search of tara...

and there's this little shy boy named fern whose face looks just like kitty! a long lost relative perhaps? ;)

[teh-nos]

i can defend the choice but i do wonder what it means that i default to making AU Sylvies 'very goal-oriented'/ruthless. i have not read that many AUs (of the not-canon-divergence type) but i feel like i'd remember if that was what most people focussed on with her in the ones i've read.

also sometimes the goals i make her so set upon have some obvious flaw that she just ignores, but i think i could defend that too if i had to.

i suppose the difference is some people set out to write AUs in which she is happier and thus softer and less stabby, while other people (inc me) don't. the fear she inspires is part of what makes her so hot i mean compelling as a fictional character.

[arolesbianism]

Thinks abt Sif Odile duo looping au. When the two who can't read eachother for shit get thrown into the horrors together

[rook2ii]

i want to put. a bunch of characters from different things that are really passionate about science in a room together. like... some of them would be just interested by each other's creations and scientific knowledge and progress. others would be attempting to LITERALLY DISSECT EACH OTHER- entrapta

[antisocialgaycat]

quite interesting how someone ive never met and probably never will meet knows me better than anyone else

[rosecrowned]

margaery when she heard renly and loras were scheming to get her to court so robert would become infatuated with her and replace cersei with her

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[hasnomoxxie]

PLEASE SHOW US AUTHOR MABEL FROM LEVITY RISES PLEASE

Okay!

My inbox is flooded with messages like these, fun fact- when I started the designs I actually didn't know what to do with her- BUT NOW IK (at least some) OF WHAT I WANNA DO WITH HER.

Still trying to figure out what I wanna do with the design and lore of the bill replacement though- Still a heavy wip!

MABEL ⇆ STANFORD

Mabel takes the role of Stanford in this au! Fun loving and enthusiastic since birth, Mabel was once a budding young photographer who eventually found her way as a newspaper journalist for Levity Rises. She quickly began to notice some of the strange things happening in the town, taking pictures and objects to create her own scrapbooks. She didn't think much of it at the time, but she was certain her brother would've liked the scrapbooks. Maybe if she'd done something earlier, she wouldn't have accidentally ended up in another dimension for 30 years- oh well- at least she knows how to kick ass across 7 different dimensions. Not sure how the identity theft is gonna work yet-

OK REFRESHER ON THE OLD CAST and added Grauntie Mabel too! One of my friends suggested to call Ford 'Sixer' the same way Dipper is named, so that's what's gonna happen going forward just cause it's a cool lil detail (plus in this au Six hides his hands in a similar way to Dipper hiding his birthmark so I think it works). Notes as per usual :]

Also yeah, I put my ussy into that logo, you're gonna see it a bit

I'll still keep thinking of stuff for this au! I have a few screenshot edits planned :D

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[roses-and-revolutions]

After retiring from being a hero, Danny moves to Gotham and opens a little mechanic workshop. He doesn't only fix cars though. Bring anything broken to him and he'll fix it. Upgrade it a bit as well if you're nice.

He's a good guy, much better than your average Joe on the street. But there was something about him that was just... unsettling about him. Maybe it was the way he smiled? It did look a bit weird when you stared at it for too long. Or was it because he was always happy? No one was ever always that happy. No one but...

Anyway, it didn't matter. When people came to him it was to get a job done and to leave. They didn't do much chatting which he didn't seem to mind, he was just happy to do his job. Always happy.

One day Danny closed up shop early. That was unusual. He was open pretty much 24/7. Some people were pretty sure he didn't even sleep. They watched as Danny walked. They noticed that Danny wasn't smiling. He wasn't happy... well fuck.

There's a new psychologist in Arkham Asylum, and apparently, she's very good at her job. Joker has already heard a lot about her. Like how she's tall, very tall. With fiery red hair that falls to her knees, and sparkling blue eyes that speak to your soul. She was a hot commodity around the Asylum. A very pretty doll that he just couldn't wait to break.

He knew that he didn't have to wait long. People like her were cocky. They get bored after figuring out a few crazies and decide that they need a bigger challenge. They think they need to break him.

They never do though. They all either quit the profession after a few weeks or fall into his trap. In the end, they all end back up here and become just like the people they were trying to help.

He couldn't wait to do it. To corrupt her mind and watch her spiral into a web of insanity of their making. What? You didn't think he did it by himself, did you? Both parties were willing participants, he spoke and they wanted to listen. It was an equal exchange. An exchange that never came.

He waited, for days and weeks. He waited for months, and there was no sign of the red-head that plagued his thoughts. He waited for almost a year... she wasn't coming to him, was she? It was a bit strange, insulting really. Was she not intrigued by him? Wasn't his case the least bit interesting? What if it was that... she found him... well... boring? The thought pissed him off a bit. That couldn't be the case, could it? Well, he wasn't going to know like this. She wouldn't come to him so he'd just had to go to her, didn't he?

It was quite easy to find out where she lived. She was with the Robin he killed. And wouldn't it be a cruel twist of fate if your girl were to die the same way you did? Who knows, maybe she'd come back wrong too?

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[misaerabl]

RIDING/GRINDING ON ELLIES TITS

spoiler: she cums first!!!

ellie x reader

CW: established relationship, reader riding/grinding on ellies tits, e! cums and r! doesn't (or at least it's not mentioned) ,mentions of readers tits bouncing (doesn't necessarily mean she's supposed to have big boobs?), not proofread

"You want to what?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion, staring at you as if you've just made the most outrageous request imaginable.

"Ride your tits"

Ellie blinks, her gaze flickering between you and your words, still hanging in the air. You're perched on the edge of the bed, your lips forming a subtle pout, waiting for her to process it all.

She couldn't quite wrap her head around where this idea had come from. Of course, she'd never deny you anything; she'd move mountains if you asked her to. But... wow, she hadn't realized you harbored these kinds of fantasies.

You two had always been open with each other. She knew how much Ellie adored—no, obsessed with your breasts. But you? Well, that was a different story altogether.

"I mean... I just want to try it, but if you're not into it, I totally get it," you said, your voice soft and sincere. You never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. But Ellie quickly shook her head, her expression softening.

"It’s not that, babe," she replied, her tone gentle. "I’m just... honestly shocked that you want to try something like this."

"But I really do..." you mumble, your voice soft but determined. You slowly crawl over to her on the bed, where she’s sitting with her back propped up against the headboard. Leaning in, you gently tug at her hoodie, your breath brushing against her ear as you whisper, “I want to ride your tits"

Without much more hesitation, Ellie’s on her back, stretched out across the bed. Her hoodie lies forgotten on the floor, and her undershirt is bunched up enough to reveal her tits.

Her breath hitches as you slip off your underwear and position yourself on top of her. She notices how wet you are. She could’ve sworn it was glistening under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, catching the light just right like it was begging to be touched.

Ellie's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of you, straddling her with your most intimate area just inches from her chest. She swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper, "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

You don't answer, instead you just look down at her and lower yourself.

Her breath catches in her throat as she feels the warm, wet sensation of your clit pressing almost directly onto her nipple. Her hands instinctively move to gently grip your thighs, holding you in place as she looks up at you with lidded eyes.

Ellie's nipples harden beneath you, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips involuntarily bucking slightly. She can feel the heat radiating from your pussy, and it's driving her wild. She swallows hard, trying to find her voice.

Fingers dig into your flesh as she tries to remain still, knowing that any movement on her part could send you both over the edge. "Fuck," she hisses under her breath, her gaze flickering between your face and the contact point between your bodies. "This is insane."

Ellie can feel your breath growing faster and shallower as you slowly shift your hips, trying to find the perfect spot. She can see the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, chuckling slightly at your concentration.

Ellie's eyes roll back slightly as she feels you finally find that perfect spot, your clit grinding down on her hard nipple. She lets out a loud moan, her back arching involuntarily, pushing her chest up further into you. "Shit, right there..."

"Yeah? You like that too?" you ask, breathless, your voice low and a little shaky.

"Fuck yes..." she pants out, her voice thick with desire. She can barely think straight with the way you're riding her tits, you wetness smearing onto her chest. "You're gonna... fuck..." She trails off, losing her train of thought as another moan escapes her lips.

Picking up your pace, your movements growing more desperate as your hands find her arms, gripping them for support—pinning her down gently, but with purpose.

You lean down, your chest hovering just above her face, close enough for her breath to ghost across your skin. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, wide with something between awe and hunger.

Ellie's eyes flutter closed for a moment as she lets out a deep moan, your movements driving her wild. She can feel your wetness coating her nipple, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. Her hips buck up slightly, meeting your rhythm as she whispers, "Holy fuck..."

Her gaze is firmly locked on your own bouncing tits as you ride her. She watches, mesmerized, as they jiggle and shake just inches from her face. Her mouth waters at the sight, and she can feel her own desire building to an almost unbearable level. "Jesus Christ..."

Suddenly she cries out, her body convulsing beneath you as a powerful orgasm crashes through her. Her pussy clenches around nothing, aching from the intense stimulation received solely from your breasts grinding against hers. Panting heavily, she grips your arms tighter.

“Did you just—?” you ask, breath hitching as your body keeps moving, grinding down without pause. Your voice is soft, airy, nearly lost in the heat between you.

You glance down to meet her eyes. She’s already looking up at you, flushed, chest rising and falling fast. Her fingers tighten around your waist, grounding you—and maybe herself.

She lets out a breathy laugh, barely a whisper. “Y-Yeah.”

A dazed smile pulls at your lips, the haze in your mind making everything feel warm and weightless.

And then, in that small space between heartbeats, Ellie says it—gentle, reverent.

“You’re so pretty.”

[ellieputellas]

fine line | paige bueckers x reader

Your brother’s best friend Paige Bueckers has hated you for as long as you can remember but when a game of Truth or Dare stirs something neither of you could ignore, the fine line between loathing and lust begins to blur. — inspired by welcome to the party tags: smut (18+), brothersbestfriend!Paige, mean!Paige, Paige and reader grew up together / hating each other for no reason, enemies-to-??? + this is my first paige fanfic so pls be nice </3, didn’t proofread… contains: femme!reader, making out, slight teasing, fingering r!receiving, cunnilingus r!receiving, drunk sex, alcohol use, foul language, toxic portrayal, has a slightly longer lead up to the smut | 7.3k words

Paige couldn't tell why she hated your guts. She just knew she hated you from the moment she met you. 

When you met, you were eight and she was ten. She was your brother's best friend growing up. That meant she was always at your house — shooting hoops or playing video games with your brother. She loved hanging out with your brother and she loved bumming out in your house but she also never liked it whenever you were in the house too.

It wasn’t even like you were an annoying kid.  You were never too loud or annoying like other younger kids. You mostly kept to yourself, often reading novels or locked up in your room. You only interacted with Paige during dinners and on rare occasions, your brother would ask you to hang with them. But still, Paige hated you.

She hated the sickeningly sweet body spray you wore… the kind that reminded her of cheap scented erasers. She hated the little bows you clipped into your hair and the stack of kitschy bracelets you made jingling on your wrists. She hated the way you’d often hum to songs from Barbie movies. But most of all, she hated your laugh. It just seemed too melodic and rehearsed to her. It felt fake. 

Even as you grew up and ditched the bows and Barbie obsessions, Paige found new reasons to dislike you.  

She hated how you traded your frilly dresses for cropped tops and short skirts, how your outfits clung a little too well. Whenever you left the house in one of your skimpy outfits, Paige would glance at your brother and scoff, “You’re really letting her go out like that?” even if your brother couldn't care less.

She hated the stories she heard in high school too. You were always being pursued by loser douchebags. Every time someone mentioned your name, she'd roll her eyes and mercilessly insult whichever guy was interested in you. She found it irritating how you even bothered to entertain such losers.

But when she found out that girls were also growing interested in you and that you had expressed possibly being queer, the intensity of her hatred reached a new level. She didn’t know why, but the idea of it just frustrated her to no end. She reacted worse about her teammates liking you than she did about the ugly, loser guys you were entertaining. It pissed her off so much that she even wondered, just for a second, if she might be homophobic. (She wasn’t. She just hated you. At least, that’s what she told herself.)

Paige never bothered hiding her disdain. If you said anything, even something innocuous, she’d roll her eyes or glare at you like you’d just sprouted a second head. When you passed her in the hallways and offered her a polite smile, she responded with a scowl. Her favourite thing to pick apart though was your wardrobe. She often made snide comments about your “desperate” and “slutty” outfits, as if you were constantly fishing for attention, even when your clothes were perfectly normal.

Her animosity became so unbearable that you stopped trying to get along with her. Any attempt at civility was met with such blatant hostility that you decided avoiding her altogether was your best option. That was easier to do when Paige and your brother went to college. Your brother went to UCLA while Paige headed to UCONN, which meant that you didn't have to put up with the blonde menace anymore.

When it was your turn to choose a college, you stayed close to home in Minnesota, a decision that came with an unexpected side effect: witnessing Paige become a household name in your city. She wasn’t just your brother’s annoying best friend anymore; she was a bona fide hometown hero. Everyone knew her name, and they weren’t shy about their excitement when she came back to visit.

Before the holidays, your brother and his friend group decided to meet and hang out during the winter break. To make things even more interesting, your brother decided to host a party for their homecoming.

You didn’t mind. Your parents were off in Europe celebrating their anniversary, and the house felt too big and too quiet when it was just you. Besides, you got along well with your brother’s friends. They were friendly, funny, and easy to get along with.

Well, all of them except Paige.

“Bean, did you grow taller since the last time I saw you?” Luke teased, grinning as he used the childhood nickname he’d given you back when you were the smallest kid in your class. Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground slightly.

You laughed, swatting at his shoulder. “Luke, it’s been six months and no, I didn’t magically grow taller.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I missed you, though! Please tell me you brought some In-N-Out back for me?”

He snorted, setting you back down. “Seriously? You think I’m gonna shove greasy burgers into my suitcase?” He shook his head, amused. “I told you, Bean, you’ve gotta visit California. You’d love it. We’ll hit up In-N-Out, Disneyland, all that fun shit.”

You nodded with a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… things have been crazy,” you admitted. “Sophomore year is no joke. I’m drowning in schoolwork. It’s such a hassle”

“I can’t believe my baby sister is in her sophomore year of university.” He pouted and pinched your cheek. You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away. “Look at you, all grown up and girl-bossing and shit.”

You snorted. “Please, I’m just trying to survive.” You responded. “Meanwhile, you seem to be living your best life in California. Is senior year treating you right?”

Luke and you exchanged college stories – his frat life, life in California, and your lack of a dating life contrasted by his seemingly unending roster. Even though you were both in college, some things stayed the same: he was still the social butterfly while you mostly still kept to yourself. 

“I’m so jealous,” you groaned as he launched into yet another story about a girl he dated. “I want to get into the dating scene so bad, but it’s just… frustrating. Like, why does nobody seem hot to me anymore? Am I turning asexual or something?”

Luke chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “No surprise there. Pretty sure you broke half my friend group’s hearts back in high school.” He smirked.  “Not that I ever minded… those dumbasses needed some humbling anyway.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Might suck seeing all the guys who crushed on you at the party later,” he commented. “Or… it might be pretty entertaining.”

You gave him a pointed look, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “That aside, I am excited to see your friends again,” you admitted, your smile faltering slightly. “Except… Paige.”

He laughed. “You might be the only one who isn’t excited to see Paige. Everyone’s geeking over seeing her again,” he responded, referencing Paige’s rise to fame. “I still don’t get why you two loathe each other.”

“Ask her that.” You groaned. “I guess I’ll just avoid her like I always used to do.”

You underestimated your ability to ignore Paige. The moment you spotted her, you couldn’t help but become hyper-aware of her presence. She still looked like she did before – the same tall, blonde menace you grew up with – but she looked more mature, more self-assured. Paige had never been awkward or insecure, but now she carried an undeniable confidence that felt almost magnetic.

You were already dressed for the party — a cute denim skirt, a cropped shirt, and sneakers. The outfit struck a balance between casual and flirty, one that usually earned you compliments. But not from Paige. When her eyes landed on you, she gave you that familiar annoyed look, the one that always seemed to come with judgment.

Paige was sitting with your brother, already helping with the table setup. When you passed her, she let out a snarky chuckle.

“Did your sister forget her manners or something?” she quipped, referring to you not bothering to greet her. Your brother sighed and shot you a look, clearly tired of the back-and-forth between the two of you.

You paused and turned to look at her. Paige was dressed in a casual hoodie and pants, exuding an effortlessness that somehow felt intimidating. Her tousled blonde hair framing her sharp features only added to her annoyingly attractive presence. Heat crept up your ears as you quickly averted your gaze and mumbled a small “hey”  before focusing on setting up the snack bowls.

Her gaze swept over your outfit, pausing at the sliver of skin revealed by your cropped shirt. She rolled her eyes, trying to seem unimpressed. “Is that a kid’s shirt? That thing’s way too small for you,” she commented. “Looks like you raided a Baby Gap.”

Luke elbowed Paige, giving her a look of disapproval. “Be nice, blondie.” He reprimanded. “You’d think college would have matured your ass enough to stop picking on my sister.”

Paige rolled her eyes, her annoyance barely concealed as she continued setting up the cups. But she was clearly distracted, her gaze flicking toward you more often than she liked. No matter how hard she tried, her gaze always seemed to find you. She couldn’t help it. You had changed so much since high school, and it was driving her crazy.

No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Paige had always known you were attractive; there was no point pretending otherwise, especially when all her friends had crushed on you at some point.

But now, it was different. You weren’t just pretty anymore; you were so fucking hot to her.

Your cheeks had lost their softness, replaced by sharper angles that gave your face a more mature, striking look. And your body… Paige cursed herself for letting her thoughts wander there. Your legs looked impossibly long, and your waist… she shook her head, refusing to dwell on it.

She clenched her jaw, trying to focus on the task at hand but to no avail. When you reached up to grab something from the counter, her eyes betrayed her. They darted back to you, tracing the small glimpse of skin revealed by your cropped shirt. Her throat went dry, and she gritted her teeth, frustrated at herself for looking.

God, why does she have to wear such tiny fucking shirts? She thought to herself. So fucking annoying.

Paige fumbled with the bottle in her hand, using it as an excuse to keep busy. But even that distraction didn’t hold for long. Every time your mini skirt lifted a bit whenever you’d reach something or you bit your lip whenever deep in thought, her resolve crumbled a little more. No matter how much she tried to act indifferent, her gaze kept drifting back to you.

It went on throughout the night. Paige would be catching up with old friends, playing drinking games, or basking in the praise for her performance at UCONN, but whenever you were nearby, she couldn’t focus. She’d watch you laughing — the same melodic, carefree laugh that she always hated — and it only frustrated her more. Her fingers tightened around her beer bottle, almost like she was trying to keep control of her temper. When you danced, she couldn’t help but make a snarky comment to her friends about how silly you looked, but no one paid her any attention. She was the only one hyper-fixated on every small movement you made.

There was no reason for her to hate you now – she never had one in the first place – but she still could not help but be consumed by the irritation you stirred in her.

While Paige was getting a drink, her high school friend Derek approached with a cheeky grin, obviously tipsy already. “Paige, you have to join Truth or Dare,” he chuckled. “We need you in on this.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Truth or Dare? We in fucking high school or something?” She chuckled, remembering all the times they played the game in high school with cheap liquor Derek’s older brother bought them.

“C’mon, we’re all here so might as well live like high schoolers again,” Derek said, ruffling his brown hair. “Don’t go all Hollywood on us, P. Just ‘cause you’re a basketball star doesn’t mean you can’t be one of us.”

Paige let out a small laugh, rolling her eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m in.” She sighed but couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she followed him into the living room. The house was packed, and they had to weave through the crowd. Paige found herself laughing, feeling nostalgic for all the times your brother held parties growing up. But that smile was quickly wiped off her face when she sat down on the carpeted floor of the living room and saw you sitting directly in front of her. She clenched her jaw.

You uncomfortably shifted in your seat, biting your lip as you tried to avert her gaze. Why can’t she act civil or normal for just a second?

The game started slow – drinking challenges, goofy tasks like smelling each other’s feet—but as the night wore on and the group got drunker, things got more playful. You were having fun, but it took a lot of effort to not acknowledge Paige’s piercing gaze every time she glanced your way.

Then suddenly, it was her turn.

The blonde chuckled, shaking her head. “Uh, truth, I guess.”

“Lame as fuck,” your brother commented with a slight slur in his speech. “Since when did Paige Bueckers chicken out of a dare?”

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning back. “I’m not sniffing anyone’s armpit, okay?” she laughed. “You guys can bully me all you want, but I’m sticking with truth.”

The room erupted with questions, eager to get the inside scoop on the UCONN star. Even the non-participants hanging around the edges of the living room jumped in with their questions. 

“Any celebrities slide into your DMs?” 

“Have you ever slept with a teammate?” 

“How much do you earn in a year?”

The questions kept coming with no sign of stopping soon; each question seemed more intriguing to the group than the last, making it harder for them to settle on one.. You gulped the last of your drink that had been swirling at the bottom of your cup, the horrible jungle juice mix burning as it slid down your throat. Your cheeks grew warm as you felt a surge of liquid courage.

You took one deep breath before you straightened up your posture and asked loudly, “Why do you hate me?”

A sudden silence fell over the room. The usual hum of chatter disappeared, leaving an eerie quiet. Then came the murmured “oohs” from the group, everyone fully aware of the tension between you two. They’d seen the subtle tension in the past, the way Paige’s eyes would narrow when you were around, but no one ever quite understood why. Your brother’s friends adored you with most of them even getting crushes on you. So, the question lingered: what was it about you that had Paige so irritated?

Paige’s smirk widened, but it looked more tongue-in-cheek. “I’m not answering that,” she shook her head firmly, looking away from you.

“Why?” you jeered, your confidence spiking. “Scared you’d have to admit you’ve been a bully all along?”

The crowd erupted in surprised laughter, clearly shocked by your sudden shift in attitude. You weren’t known for being confrontational, but the alcohol was making you bold. Your brother sighed, exasperated. “Alright, alright, no need to dig up old drama. Let’s just have some fun.”

But you weren’t letting it go. You locked eyes with your brother and shook your head at him, then turned back to Paige. “No, Luke. I need Paige to answer.”

Paige shot you an incredulous look. “You seriously want me to waste my turn on this? This is so dumb…” She tried to play it off but she was obviously getting riled up.

The crowd paused, muttering about what else to ask but you needed her to answer. “Why? What are you hiding, Paige?” You taunted, feeling your ears burn up. “Scared to admit that maybe you just hated me all along because you had a crush on me?”

Your words were meant to be playful, teasing, but something about them struck a nerve. Paige’s cheeks flushed, and her jaw tightened. The group took notice, sensing the tension. They started to tease her for it, but Paige was having none of it.

“Fine, I’ll answer,” she snapped, her voice biting. “I hate you because of how big-headed you are. You think everyone wants you — you even think I want you. You’re always sauntering around, being cute to everyone. It just pisses me off. You think you’re so hot but you just look like you’re making a fool out of yourself. Sorry to end your delusions right here but I don’t want you. I doubt anyone here actually does. Frankly, I wouldn’t touch you even if we were the last two people on earth. “

The room went silent for a moment before the sound of sharp exhales and hushed whispers filled the air. Your face flushed red, the embarrassment mixing with the sting of her words. You had expected a teasing response, not that.

Your brother hushed everyone and urged the game to move on, shooting you an apologetic look. “Alright, let’s keep it moving,” he said. 

The game went on but you were still pissed off and fixated on her answer. Several people had their turns but you were too distracted to focus on whatever anyone was doing. The alcohol didn’t help either; if anything, it just intensified your emotions.

Derek must have noticed your agitation because he slid over and handed you a fresh drink, then settled right back beside Paige. You chugged the drink, hoping the alcohol would numb whatever you were feeling.

“Bean, it’s your turn.” One of your brother’s friends nudged you, using the nickname they’d all called you growing up. You sighed and shrugged. You didn’t want to choose truth; honestly, you’d rather drink a shot out of someone’s dirty belly button than answer a question involving Paige.

“Dare,” you said flatly with a shrug.

Everyone seemed disappointed. It seemed like not all of your brother’s friends were over their crush on you like he had predicted; they all wanted to find out who you liked most between them, hoping they’d still have a chance at possibly rekindling a spark.

Derek cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “I dare you…” he grinned mischievously, “To kiss your brother’s hottest friend.”

Your brother groaned, visibly uncomfortable. “Ew, I don’t wanna see that.” 

“Then cover your eyes, fool,” someone chimed in, making everyone laugh.

You glanced around the circle, scanning the faces. Your brother’s friends were, without a doubt, attractive. After all, they were a popular group growing up. But none of them sparked any real interest in you.

You thoroughly looked at the circle of your brother’s friends. A lot of them were actually good-looking. Peter, with his striking blue eyes and dark hair, was the one everyone had a crush on growing up – especially during the era when everyone was obsessed with Logan Lerman – but he just didn’t seem like your type. Tanner was the typical heartthrob jock type but his muscles were too much for your taste. Bethany had also pursued you in high school. You always thought she was kinda cute but you were never actually interested.  Then you looked at Derek who always gave a cute puppy boy energy. You never really felt bad rejecting your brother’s friends – a lot of them needed serious humbling – except for Derek. He was always the nicest one among all of them. You bit your lip, scanning the circle once more.

But then, your eyes shifted to Paige.

She was sitting across from you, still wearing that scowl, the one that made her look like she was constantly annoyed by you. She took another swig of her beer, clearly uninterested in the game, but something about her caught your eye. Even though she drove you insane, there was no denying her looks.  

Whenever she was around the house growing up, you always felt yourself flush and grow hyperaware of your actions. When she made snarky comments about your slutty outfits, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel pride knowing she was riled up by seeing your body. Even looking at her now made your cheeks flush a bit. You thought maybe it was the annoyance you felt for her but something about her made your heart race in a different way, different from anger.

Then it hit you… is Paige my brother’s hottest friend?

Her eyes, which had been darting around the group, suddenly locked with yours. Her face froze, and you could see something shift behind her eyes. You gave her a small smile, subtle but playful enough for her to notice. She didn’t give anything back – not a scowl or a mutter or even an annoyed look. Paige just stared at you, startled by your fixated gaze.

You slid forward, crawling towards her slowly, the crowd howling in amusement at the unexpected twist. When you stopped right in front of Paige, kneeling in the space in front of her with a playful smirk, she didn’t move. She seemed frozen, the usual fire in her eyes replaced with something unreadable. You bit your lip, deciding to take it a step further.

With a sudden boldness, you reached up and grabbed the collar of her hoodie, pulling her closer to you. The audience’s teasing faded into the background as you closed the space between you. The air felt heavy as you inched closer to her, lips so close that you could feel her heavy breath graze your lips. Paige’s eyes fluttered as she fought to hold onto her usual defiance against you. Her mind screamed at her to push you away, to give you a disgusted look and say something demeaning and rude enough to kill your spirit but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

Your lips were practically grazing against each other. Paige’s eyes were slowly fluttering, almost closed. Just at the moment that Paige looked like she was about to give in, you pulled back abruptly, your voice low and teasing. 

“In your dreams, Buckets.”

Paige blinked, stunned, as she pulled back with a look of confusion flashing across her face. You gave her a mischievous grin, watching her process what just happened. Before she could react, you quickly turned toward Derek, who had been watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and surprise.

Without hesitation, you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss right in front of Paige. Derek’s eyes widened in shock, too flustered to even respond as you kissed him. Your eyes stayed locked on Paige the entire time, a smirk playing on your lips as you pulled away from Derek.

The crowd howled, amused by what just unfolded in front of their eyes. You made your way back to your seat, playfully wiping your lips with your fingertips as you gave a small eyebrow raise and smirk to Paige who look flustered.

“Bro, look at how red Derek is,” Tanner commented, teasing his friend who was growing shy at the attention.

Your brother laughed. “Now, why does Paige look even redder than Derek?”

Everyone turned their attention to the blonde who looked positively pissed off but undeniably flushed. The group proceeded to tease Paige who had lost all her effortlessly chill demeanour and who couldn’t even make a quip back to all her friends teasing her. She just rolled her eyes and sipped more of her drink.

You got her back and you knew it. You won this time.

The game ended later on and everyone dispersed to play other games or drink some more. After the game, poor Derek had been trying to chat you up only for you to politely decline his advances again. You never really liked him. You just wanted to piss Paige off and he was the most convenient option.

After successfully shrugging off the boy, you decided that you had enough of that night, settling on having one last drink before turning in.

As tou made your way to the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of Paige, hanging around near the counter and chatting up a shorter girl you couldn’t recognize. Paige was smiling drunkenly at the girl as she used one hand to hold the girl’s waist. You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you passed by them, heading to the cooler to fish out a beer.

Paige’s ears rang when she heard you scoff. She turned around and furrowed her eyebrows together to look at you. “What’s your problem?”

You turned to look at her and frowned. “What? I can’t get a drink at my own home now?”

She chuckled dryly. “No, I’m talking about that little scoff when you passed me.” She stepped closer to you, almost forgetting about the girl she was chatting up. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous? I know you got a huge crush on me but —”

“Good night, Paige,” you dismissed her with a sharp tone, grabbing your beer. You shot her a dismissive look before brushing past her. It was almost three in the morning, and between the alcohol and exhaustion, you didn’t have the energy to keep bickering with her.

 You took a long swig of your drink as you headed upstairs, the weight of the day pulling you toward your bed. As much as you enjoyed seeing Paige pissed off, tonight wasn’t the night. Besides, you didn’t hate her… well, not enough to waste what little energy you had left.

Paige, however, wasn’t about to let it go. She was practically fuming as she watched you leave, sauntering across the crowd and up the stairs. Her jaw tightened. She hated how nonchalant you seemed, how you dismissed her so easily. She’d wanted you to fight back, to stay and argue with her, to match her energy. Instead, you left her hanging.

She took a sharp swig of her drink. “Hold this,” she muttered to the girl who had been chattering her ear off for the past hour, shoving her beer into her hands without waiting for a response. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but her feet carried her toward the stairs before she could stop herself. Navigating the house was second nature; it was all still so familiar. The creaky seventh step, the faint scuff marks on the wall, even the patched-up spot in the hallway from the time Luke drunkenly pushed his head through the plaster. So, even if she was plastered, making her way to you was easy. She was convinced she could even do it blindfolded.

When she finally reached your room, she hesitated for only a moment before turning the knob. Unlocked. Typical.

It was dim in your room. All you had on were the fairy lights you had set up in your room from your teenage years. When you heard the faint creak of the door, you quickly grabbed your discarded shirt to cover yourself.

“What the fuck?” you blurted, your voice sharp and unsteady. “Get out!”

You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see your brother or a random drunk. Instead, you saw Paige, standing by your door with a smirk on her face. She didn’t answer right away, instead closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her movements were slow, deliberate. You could tell by her gait and her demeanour that she was drunk. 

“Door unlocked, shirt off,” she commented as she continued to slowly walk to you. “Expecting Derek already?”

Your brows furrowed. “What?” you muttered, too tired and tipsy to process her words.

She took another step closer, and then another, her smirk widening. “You look disappointed to see me.” She mumbled. “Just thought you might be expecting someone else.”

“Paige,” you warned, clutching the shirt tighter against your chest. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, she was right in front of you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off her. When you tried to step back, your legs hit the edge of the bed, trapping you.

“God, look at you,” she murmured, her voice low and almost reverent, though her expression was anything but. “I fucking hate that face.”

Her eyes roamed over you, lingering on your collarbones, your bare shoulders. She tilted her head, studying you as if she was a predator ready to pounce on her prey. The smirk on her face grew. You gave her a confused look.

“Don’t look at me like you don’t want this,” she said, her voice dropping. “Like you didn’t want me to follow you up here.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the haze. “You’re drunk. Just… go back to the party, Paige.”

Paige didn’t budge. Instead, her hand slid to your waist, her touch firm but not rough, pulling you closer. “You’re drunk too, babe.” Paige cooed as she pushed her body against yours, closing the space between you two. “I saw the way you looked at me earlier. The way you grabbed me. You want this.”

You tried pushing her away but she stayed put. She was way stronger than you were. “Fuck off, Paige.”

“Now, I didn’t like that trick you played with Derek,” You shivered as she traced the contours of your back with her cold fingertips. “You had me thinking that you really wanted him…”

Paige leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on your neck, just underneath your ear. “But then I saw the look in your eyes when you were teasing me… and no one can feign lust like that.” She whispered before planting another kiss a little lower down your neck, closer to your collarbone. “You can’t deny it.”

You tried to push Paige feebly but her grip was tight on you. She chuckled at your lame attempt. “If you don’t want me, just say so and I’ll fuck off.” She moved away from your neck and flashed a serious look at you, tilting your head up so that you would be looking her in the eyes.

Her lips curled into a small smirk, waiting for you to say something. “But we both know you won’t say that.” 

“I know you want me to make you feel good.” She leaned forward, closer to your ear again. Her breath tickled your neck. “And I can make you feel good. I’m so fucking sure of that.”

Her closeness, the warmth of her breath against the crook of your ear, the intoxicating smell of her perfume – it was driving you insane. Paige looked at you, waiting for you to give in. She leaned in even closer causing you to gasp as your eyes fluttered. Yet, you said nothing still.

“Fucking knew it.”

And just like that, Paige was pulling you close, crashing your lips together. She grabbed your shirt from your hands and discarded it, freeing your hands so you could hold on to her as you kissed her with reciprocated hunger and desperation. Paige impatiently guided you to your bed, crawling on top of you, not allowing her lips to leave yours. 

You’ve kissed a few people before but no one kissed like Paige. She kissed like she was devouring you, desperate and needy. Her lips were constantly battling against yours as if wanting to assert her dominance over you.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, you gasped for air. Paige’s lips then took refuge from your lips to your delicate neck. You moaned as her lips wrapped around the edge of your collarbones, sucking and biting them with her warm mouth. There was no doubt that she left a mark.

Her hands made their way to your chest, cupping you with her long fingers. She hummed under her breath as she pulled away from you. She bit her lip as she looked at the soft flesh in between her hands, squeezing them slightly. Paige sighed. “Fuck, they’re prettier than I imagined.” 

She leaned forward, wrapping a mouth around your erect nipple. You moaned as soon as you felt the warmth of her mouth wrapped around you as she started sucking. She kept a hand on the other breast, using her fingers to alternate between rubbing and pinching them. It felt so good that you were unconsciously grinding your core against the knee she slotted in between your legs.

“F-fuck, Paige,” you breathed out at the feeling. “Feels so good…”

She chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by your reaction. You moaned again as soon as her tongue pressed against your nipple, drawing circles with the tip. 

Her free hand moved down and gripped your waist, holding you down as you squirmed with pleasure underneath her. Soon, her hand found its way under your skirt, pressing her fingers against your core. You could feel her mouth curl up into a smile against your chest. 

“Wet already? And for me?” She chuckled. “Thought you hated my guts.”

You moaned under your breath as she pressed two fingers firmly against your clothed wetness. “You’re so fucking annoying,” she mumbled before capturing your breast with her mouth again. “Makes me wanna fuck you even more.”

You whimpered as you felt two of her fingers rub circles against your clothed, throbbing cunt. You felt conflicted and confused. Paige always disliked you; she was always rude and crass towards you.

Yet, here she was, just a thin fabric away from taking you completely.

“You want more, babe?” She moved her mouth nearer to your ear, planting kisses on your jawline. “Tell me you want me… as much as I want you.”

Before you could even respond, she pressed harder against you, causing you to moan out loud. You furrowed your eyebrows together, overwhelmed by the sensation. You nodded your head as you bit your lower lip.

“Use your words, baby.” Her breath warm against your ear.

“Paige, I w-want — fuck!” Her fingers pressed harder against your clit, sending a small wave of pleasure, enough to distract you.

“Come on, you can do it…” She teased. “Beg for me.”

“Paige, please… I want you. Please.” You begged immediately, whimpering under your breath. You fluttered your eyes and bit your lower lip as you stared up at the blonde girl with her half-lidded eyes and eager lips. “I want you, Paige.”

She smiled, pleased by your reaction. Seeing you that desperate for her and hearing you say those words… it felt a thousand times better than the time she made you cry when she pulled on your pigtails. A million times better than seeing you get riled up when she made snarky comments. Infinitely better than fucking any other girl ever. 

“Please, Paige… please, baby. I need you.” Your voice came out so soft and needy that it practically trembled. The sweetness of it made Paige freeze for a moment, her jaw tightening. Normally, she’d crack a joke or tease you for acting so cutesy, but now? Now it just drove her feral.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against your jaw in a fleeting kiss before sliding your soaked underwear down in one swift motion. A shiver ran through you as the cool air met your bare skin, quickly replaced by the overwhelming heat of her touch. You silently thanked the loud music thumping and the sound of the drunken chatter downstairs, masking the sound that escaped your lips when Paige slipped two of her fingers inside you.

Her fingers were much longer than yours, reaching way deeper than you ever could with your own fingers. The sensation of her digits burying deep inside and the feeling of her weight on top of you — it had you grabbing onto her wide shoulders, burying your face in the crook of her neck as she relentlessly pounded into you. You wrapped your legs around her, holding on tightly as if she was a lifeline

"God, you're so fucking wet," Paige growled, her voice low and rough. She bit her lip, watching the way your hips bucked against her hand without any restraint. "Look at you. Grinding on me like this. Fucking desperate, aren't you?"

You felt your cheeks burn as she said it. The feeling of humiliation and arousal swirled in your body, leaving you breathless. You tightened your hold around her neck, moaning into her skin. 

“Fuck, you really must be a slut,” Paige said through gritted teeth, her tone teasing but sharp. “This fucking wet and submissive for someone you don’t even like? I make you feel that good, huh?”

You ignored her, continuing to savor the feeling of her fingers curling in with every thrust. ButPaige grew frustrated as you failed to answer her questions.

“Fucking answer me.” She said through gritted teeth as she began to fuck you even deeper, slamming her fingers from the knuckles to the tips with every thrust.

Her words pushed you off the edge, groaning as she said it. It wasn’t just arousal; it was frustration. You were enjoying having her touch you like that but Paige always had to be Paige. She always knew how to fuck up a perfectly good moment with her big mouth.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you spat out shakily, trying to catch your breath as her fingers plowed you. “S-so fucking obnoxious.”

Paige's lips curved into a wicked smirk, her fingers not slowing down for a second. "Yeah? Keep running that mouth, baby," she taunted, her voice dripping with arrogance. "I fucking dare you.”

Just as your lips parted again, Paige pressed harder against you, now pressing her thumb on your clit as she continued to curl her fingers inside you. Her lips found their way back to your neck, wrapping her mouth around the tender flesh before eagerly sucking. You let out a loud moan as you felt her teeth slowly sink into your flesh. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to leave a nasty bruise.

“Paige!” Her name slipped out of your mouth loudly before you could even think about it. “Fuck!”

Her chest grew warm at the sound of her name coming out of your mouth. She inched away from you again, looking at you vulnerable under her touch. She bit her lip as her eyes looked at your face. That fucking pretty face. 

“Say my name again,” She ordered in a quiet, low tone. “I want to hear you say it.”

Your eyes fluttered open, slightly glazed. Your lips curled in between your teeth as you saw the hunger in Paige’s eyes. 

“C’mon, baby.” She whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll make you feel even better if you do.”

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you furrowed your eyebrows together once more, still overwhelmed by the sensation of her touch. Growing impatient, she pulled out her fingers before roughly inserting them back inside of you, curling them inward to press against your most sensitive spot.

You moaned out, arching your hips causing her fingers to bury themselves deeper into your g-spot. “Paige!”

“Good girl.” She smirked before swiftly moving down you, slotting her head in between your legs. She wasted no time, sticking her tongue inside your wet folds.

The slick and warm sensation caused you to arch your back, pressing yourself against her. You cursed out loud as you felt her move her tongue inside you. Your hands gripped her head, pushing her closer to your warmth.

“God yes, keep fucking me with your tongue, please.” You gyrated your hips against her mouth, practically riding her face.

Paige slowly moved up, taking her tongue out from inside of you before wrapping her mouth around your clit. Her mouth was impatient, sucking and flicking her tongue against you with a relentless hunger. She hummed against your core, obviously pleased with your reaction.

You barely had time to completely adjust to the new sensation of her mouth on you. Paige was already teasing your entrance with her fingertips again, getting them wet with your slick. She hummed in delight as she felt more of your nectar drip from your core as she continued to use her tongue to draw shapes against your clit. 

A whispered chain of incoherent curse words and please’s escaped your lips as you felt her finger enter you at an excruciatingly slow pace. You reached your hands down, trying to grab her own to shove it back in you already but Paige refused to let you get what you wanted that easily.

You whimpered as soon as Paige inserted two of her fingers inside you again. The joint sensation of her digits filling you and her warm mouth pleasuring your clit was enough to drive you absolutely insane. The blonde girl moved with such precision and skill; it felt like she already memorized how to make you feel good without having done so before.

Paige practically moaned feeling your walls clench around her and her face get even more soaked with your slick. It didn’t help that such sweet moans and whimpers filled the room, causing her to feel even more aroused. She pushed against the hood of your clit with her mouth, allowing her tongue better access to lick the most sensitive parts of your clit.

It didn’t take long until you were feeling the pleasure inside you build up, working towards the peak. It felt like every muscle in your body was contracting and tense as Paige picked up the pace with both her fingers and her tongue.

“Fuck!” You moaned out as the sensation grew more and more intense. “Paige, I’m going to — I’m gonna —”

Before you could even finish your sentence, you stiffened up before melting into your bed as the waves of pleasure rippled through your body. Your brain felt empty, devoid and incapable of thought as you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling. You were already drunk a while ago but now, you felt completely and utterly intoxicated with pleasure.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t even move. You felt frozen until Paige collapsed onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight. Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with yours, both of you still catching your breath. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the muffled music from downstairs and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

You turned your head to look at her. The soft glow of the lights traced her profile, highlighting the sharp lines of her jaw and the curve of her lips. The way the warm light caressed her pale skin made your chest tighten. You swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what just happened, of how everything between you had unravelled so quickly.

“Paige, why did—”

“No,” she interrupted, dismissing your question before you even had the chance to answer it. The words hung heavy in the air as she stared straight ahead at the ceiling. Her lips parted like she wanted to say more, but instead, she let out a shaky breath. 

Finally, she turned her head, her eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

You blinked, confused. “Oh…”

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply. You could see it — how the realization of what just happened was crashing down on her, the same way it was on you. The heat, the urgency, the way you’d both given in so completely to something unspoken—it was all so raw, so real. It was as if you both were sobering up.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she repeated, but it sounded more like she was convincing herself than you. Her voice cracked slightly. “This never happened.”

Her words hit you like a slap in the face. You stared at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, for something that might soften the blow. But she didn’t waver.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice barely audible. You nodded, more to yourself than to her. “It never happened.”

The silence between you was deafening. You both stayed like that, lying side by side, staring at each other without speaking. You tried to study her face, her microexpressions… but there was nothing you could decipher. It seemed like she set her walls back up as soon as she could. 

Eventually, Paige sat up, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached for her phone which she accidentally dropped on the floor earlier, the faint glow from the screen lighting her face for a moment. She didn’t look back as she stood up and made her way to the door.

The door clicked shut behind her, and you let out a long, unsteady breath. You stared at the ceiling, feeling an unfamiliar, icky feeling settle into your chest. The horrible sensation started to spread and fester inside of you like a parasite or a disease.

You knew you fucked up, allowing all of that to happen. But what could you do about it now? It was done and no amount of regret could undo it. There was a line you two never seemed to cross but now… you just erased that line altogether.

You took a deep breath and sighed. “Fuck.”

a/n: i’m back from my long break! still having a major writer’s block so no futfem or alexia fanfics yet. idk why but writing this paige fic is surely helping me get back into writing in general. this is my first time writing for a non-football player and mostly a result of me getting a crush on her after my other friends started making me watch her play lmao. idk if i will write more for her soon since i’m not really an avid basketball fan but who knows?

not sure if there'll be a part 2 but just in case, i'll add it to the masterlist!

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.