#this is definitely Not what you asked about but i just kept going

[bucketbueckers]

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

She clicks on the dim lamp at her bedside, her eyes returning to your figure when her vision adjusts. She shakes her head like you’re not real, her hands touching your hips, your waist, your breasts covered by the thin material of your top. You’re sure she’s burning this image into her mind forever – you’re doing the same. You may never be able to forget the image of Paige Bueckers hovering above you, eyes wild and gone, messy like you’re already five rounds deep and not just pent up from fucking around in the club.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise ��� it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

[axetivev]

— Summary: You and Renn are the truest definition of rivalry to lovers. At least, that was your co-workers kept telling you two, after a heated argument. One of Renn's buddies told you to have sex just to tease you two, which ended up with something...

— Warnings/Tags: Mirror Sex, Slight Cockwarming, Degrading(?), Renn is a virgin, Porn with Plot, Rivalry to Lovers(?).

— Words: 2.4k

— A/N: first oc fic + it's long ass fck.... I was actually planning to write something jjk first. but oh how fun of fate to just suddenly make me busy for a lil while. More of my ocs are coming. I hope you enjoyed this fic !!

— Pairing: Oc!Kaede Renn x Male Reader

“You—[L. Name] I’ve already told you. We. Cannot. Take. His. Case.”

“Why then!? Can’t you at least explain why, Kaede!?”

The sound of screams echoed through the firm. As your and Renn’s lighting the room from the once quiet now loud.

Being a lawyer wasn’t really your dream, but your parents forced you to. Working your butt off by so many papers while they talked about how much success their son will gave them when they barely paid attention to you, but who cares? You’ll just cut them off the moment you graduate. And you did. And after years looking for a job, you found yourself working on the top law firm on the city.

Everyone in the firm were better then home. They were supportive of one another, until you finally crossed paths with the man who neither everyone loves him or hates him. Kaede Renn.

Everything was normal when you first met him. But not even a month in, you two found yourselves arguing rather to take a case. Specifically, a case about murder, the client, a girl in her 20s was accused of murdering her brother, when the first time you met her, Renn was there. Even after looking how “innocent” she seemed to be. Renn immediately rejected her, as she left feeling down. There was it. How the tree of argument started, from many and many others coming.

Back to your current position, you and Renn were separated by one of Renn’s buddies, Yoshida Kanade. She stepped between both of you with her hands on your and his chest. Making you both froze, the female looked to both males with a sigh, followed by a disappointed look on her face. “Y’know, [L. Name], if you and Kaede wanted to be loud. I suggest, not here.”

You paused, Renn raised an eyebrow, before he asked, crossing his arms. “And what’s your suggestion?”

“Renn’s bedroom.” Kanade cleared her throat, skipping away like nothing ever happened. Like she never said something. Leaving you and Renn just started at each other, your face red from how bold her choice of words, Renn? He covered his face with his right hand.

“…I’m in for that idea.” Renn’s voice was barely a whisper. You snapped your head at him, jawdropped. “You piece of—” “Language.” With that, Renn immediately grasped for your wrist. Bolting out of the firm like it was the last day on earth.

“What’s wrong with Kaede? Doesn’t he had more work to do—”

“Yeah, in his bed with [L. Name].” Kanade chuckled to herself.

You swore to yourself you’ll kill Kanade after this.

You just casually looked down on the car with your fingers fidgeting. Who’s car? Obviously, Renn’s. His eyes were on the road, not even taking a glance at you making you even more nervous. Fuck, is he going fuck you? By the looks in his black eyes, there’s a chance, it’s a yes. But the term “fuck you” can go by him actually fucking you, making you dumb or him, actually destroying you both physically and mentally. What if he choose—

A hand went to your thigh—immediately making you snapped to reality and gasped as you look straight ahead, seeing that the traffic lights was red light. Renn just continue his silence staring ahead, his left arm resting on the edge of the window. His cheek resting on his knuckles, seemingly unbothered by the fact his hand in your thighs. You found it annoying but made no absolute effort to pray his hand away—you just follow his gaze, looking forward.

“Something in your mind?” Is all he said before the lights go green, he released his grip on your thighs as he continued to drive like nothing happened. You mutely nodded which Renn answered with a grunt. Not wanting to continue the conversation.

“What the fuck—” “I must repeat myself; Language. [L. Name].”

When you made it to the Kaede’s resident. You just stared up to this place he called “home”, this is not a home! But a fucking mansion. Even in the entrance, there a gate in black and even a whole ass garden with a fountain in the center. Renn was just acting casual but this isn’t what you used to. Your childhood home was average to say the least, it’s still livable. Even with some parts broken and your parents making no effort to fix them.

What if he used money and bribe—

“Don’t think too much.” Renn’s voice was calm with a hint of harshness within making your froze. His answer was like he just read your mind which was somewhat scary. Once you two were in front of the actual doors of the house, Renn pulled out his coat and placing in his left arm before using his right hand to opened the door.

…Bigger like expected. You just stared at everything.

The chandelier, which light up the room, the furniture from expensive brands around the place, the two separated stairs in the middle with a damn campfire, pictures of Renn, and four other people, everything about this place just makes your bank account feel insecure.

“I’m home…” With a blink of an eye, a girl, perhaps still 17-18 came from the left side of the stairs, her eyes were similar to Renn, but instead of a navy hair like him, her hair was close to midnight.

“Hiroto is somewhere with Yukii…” The girl looked down before groaning, you honestly felt bad. Wait, who’s Hiroto? And Yukii?

“That kid never listen—” Renn pinched the bridge of his nose, he turned back to face you. Using his palm to show the girl. “That, is Kaede Sukii. She’s the third child of the family.”

He wasn’t like this in the firm… He looked rather calm. Not saying that he wasn’t came in work, but he doesn’t carry that professionalism. That professionalism that lead you to this. You still questioned yourself if he’s gonna fuck you to he is gonna actually fucking you.

Sukii just waved her hand at you with a polite smile. You waved back before she goes back from her room, Renn groaned after she left. Rubbing his temples. “She’s my sister, unfortunately.”

“…Why unfortunately?” Your eyes slightly widened, Renn had siblings?

“Her and Hiroto are my siblings. Since my parents death, I was the one responsible for both.” Renn said calmly, grabbing your wrist before he dragged you without glancing back. “Let’s make it quick before Hiroto knew what will I be going.”

Never in your life you’d be with Renn, even though in the past, you two had little beefs that didn’t let to arguments. You still hated the fact that someone like him, making you sat on his lap, your legs spread as his two of his fingers inside of your rim.

His fingers was long, pushing his digits deep inside of you, brushing over your prostate. His words from earlier replayed in your mind, besides your mind being foggy out of his fingers, you recall Renn saying he was a virgin.

But what virgin fingers someone until they moaned and made their brain almost melt!? It’s not like you didn’t trust him. But his fingers was too good to be called virgin, his fingers stretched your hole, your cock slowly getting close to its orgasm as Renn’s middle finger kept pressing your prostate.

It's more humiliating for the fact you’re already naked while he still wears his white shirt. Your body trembled when the tip of his fingers almost out from your rim making you whimper from the lost. But you tried to breathe, his fingers were rough, when you tried to take a breath—he slammed his fingers back, your back arched as your cock reached its peak, cumming to your stomach, your hand grabbed Renn’s biceps letting out a moan, Renn’s fingers fucking your hole until your dick stopped cumming.

“You… you’re such a slut. [Name].” Renn rested his chin over your shoulder, you slightly jumped by him calling you with your actual name, not your last. But not just that, but the fact he called you a slut.

You felt Renn pulled his fingers out, making you whimper at the lost, his index finger, which had some of your cum, he circled his index round your rim. A gasped escaped your lips, you looked up to look a Renn, you swore you saw a smirk playing on his lips. He then left you rest in his bed for a moment as he gets up, your eyes were still dazed. But at least, you can take a look over the celling of his bed, which in white. You heard a noise which make you slightly snapped, you tried to sat up, only for Renn to pin you down. His black eyes staring at you. He blurted out; “Let’s fuck.”

Your eyes slightly widened by how blunt his words were. You never heard him cursed. Well, technically when he called you a slut but you didn’t count it, he didn’t let you answer. Immediately making you sat on his lap, raising your thighs, were his left arm immediately wrapping around you. You closed your eyes for a moment from whatever he was doing, but it seems he doesn’t want that. Immediately, he plunged his cock inside of you, making you scream his name and resulting you to open your eyes. Where it was, a mirror.

Right in front of your face. Everything about you was captured your very figure, even showing clear as day; Renn’s cock inside of your asshole. But he was kind enough to let you get comfortable, he immediately slammed his hips against yours, he lets out a grunt while you let out a whimper. How big even is he!? You can’t tell, but it felt humiliating that the mirror was in front of you. You felt your ego melting away as he rammed your hole like no tomorrow.

You felt Renn’s hand slowly grasped your chin, hesitantly, he leaned forward—pulling you to a heated kiss. Renn’s tongue was dancing against yours as your moans were swallowed by him. Perhaps, he did so because you were too loud for his liking. This aroused you so much, you never felt this horny for a man, especially Renn. For a virgin, he’s a good kisser. Really.

His hips paused for a moment as you two continue your silly little kiss. You wanted to breath but Renn doesn’t let you. When you tried to pulled the kiss, he just slammed his lips against yours. His cock was still inside of you, you were warming up his cock, bonus points, his cock was also hitting your prostate. That’s fucking hot. And you hated it.

“R–Renn—” You whimpered between his lips, he slowly parted your lips with his, Renn quietly studied your face, before ramming his cock back, even rougher as you gasped. Your second climax was right around the corner.

Renn saw the way your cock twitched. A smile formed between his lips. “Ah, about to cum already? I haven’t even come close yet. You’re just like a bitch in heat.”

“Renn you asshole!” You groaned, his words were so vulgar. Out of control. Unlike his usual self on the firm, but you don’t hate it, you literally made no effort to fight back.

But your orgasm came on quick. You threw your head back, resting on Renn’s shoulder as a loud moan escaped your lips, followed by small whimpered and you calling his name repeatally like a prayer. Cum, specifically yours stained the white sheets. Renn’s sheets—but the man himself just kept thrusting until he followed his own climax. You felt warmth inside of you, you honestly wanted to complain because he didn’t wore a condom. But you just don’t had the energy to do so.

Renn’s cock was still inside, you wanted to sleep. Your eyes met with Renn, it was clear he isn’t tired yet, but he seemed to be slightly concerned by your appearance. Before you got here. You looked tidy, handsome. Just perfect—but now, you were a mess.

“[Name]…” He tested your name on his lips, he slowly tried to pulled his dick, his eyes slowly widened when you pushed him down. A gasped came from your lips, feeling his cock was right on your prostate. “Hey, seriously. If you’re tired we can—”

You shook your head. “One… one more.” Fuck, you were cock drunk. Renn, at first seems unsure, his hand made contact to your waist. Embarrassed, he slowly nodded. “Fine…”

That one more time? Yeah, ended up with a total of four rounds. You slowly woke up from a random dream that Renn confessed to you that he loved you in the firm with everyone watching. You felt all the parts of your body was sore. But at least, you wore something. Perhaps it was Renn’s clothes. When you tried to get up, only to feel Renn’s arms wrapping around your waist. Making you groan, you turned around, trying to pray him off with your hand.

“Renn…” You whispered. He grunts.

You sighed, you then slowly raised your voice. “Renn.”

He shook his head.

“RENN!”

“Tch, fine…” The man, that asshole. Finally let’s you go, turning to the other side of the bed. Renn grunts as he falls back to sleep, you stood up, nearly falling in the process.

Shit, how are you gonna work now? Your face was flushed from embarrassment. Your legs just trembled, refusing to walk when you heard a moan—you snapped your head to the door. You rushed (suddenly making you able to walk) to see what’s going on, you bursted into the room next to Renn’s. You found…

Fuck.

You found a male, fucking maybe—a trans man. Maybe you were dreaming. The first male was similar to Renn, you suspected it was Hiroto. And the man who was below him. You don’t really know who, he just had black hair and his left eye was covered. A smirked played on Hiroto’s lips. “Oh? You must’ve be Renn’s fuck buddy, yeah?”

Before you could say something—literally even to breath, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Renn, already wearing something, he dragged you back to his room. Leaving a glance at his brother. “Keep your boyfriend’s voice down…”

“Ohhh, Yukii’s? Alrighty, boss!” Hiroto giggled, you looked at Yukii who covered his face out of embarrassment.

What an odd morning to start your day…!

[pagesfromthevoid]

Tagging in here for the Bob discussion. But imagine after a few times together he gets the confidence to be on top but he is a complete service top (still whiny though)

You’re so right, anon. So very right (this got. Very away from me).

The first few times, he’s so awkward. He’s worried he’s not doing it right, or he’s bad at it. He’s so timid and awkward, and he waits for you to make the first move because he knows what he wants but he doesn’t know what you want. What if you don’t want him touching you there? Or what if he does something you don’t like but won’t say anything so you don’t upset him? So he lets you make the choices.

But after —let’s say, the fourth, fifth time (and a few shattered windows because, well, turns out he doesn't know how to control his powers just yet when he's worked up) —he realizes that…you want him just badly as he wants you. Actually, you might be even more desperate than he is, honestly. Because you’re the one being patient with him. You’re taking everything by his pace; stopping when he needs to stop. Only touching him when he’s made it clear he’s okay with it. While he’s the one “in control,” it’s not really control —you’re just you, and you’re willing to take it slow and take care of him over yourself instead.

And now all he wants is to give you everything.

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

He missed his sweater.

You only look up when the door opens because there’s a shift in the air; not a bad shift. Just...different suddenly. You put the book aside as he walks in, hands behind his back. He looks a bit rigid; stiff, uncomfortable.

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly.

You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

“Uh, Bucky and Walker took it,” he explains but that sounds bad so he explains further. “Training. We were training and they didn’t want me to train in it. It’s…weird, right? The shirt? I’m not used to wearing things that are so…I don’t know, tight?”

You just hum, tilting your head to the side as you look him over. He looks down some, feeling like he’s being ogled (well, he is. But he's still not used to you staring at him like this).

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance."

"You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

Bob is staring you down, definitely short-circuiting because neither Bucky nor Walker advised him on how to handle anything you just said. How is it fair that you’re just so…good to him?

But then...he takes a step forward. You don't move; that shift in the air suddenly makes sense and you let Bob decide what he's going to do now. His hands clench into fists a few times, trying to coax himself forward.

You take just barely a step towards him —not even an inch. Something instinctual; something gravitational. Then his hands are on your hips, and his lips are on yours, and he’s pushing you towards the bed. It’s the first time he’s initiated a kiss without outright asking. You melt into the touch, sighing into his mouth as the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise.

"I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he only let's you get a quick peck in before he's pulling away. You whine a bit, sitting up on your elbows to complain —but you can't find anything to complain about as Bob is slipping his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless. But it's the first time he's taken his shirt off himself, without prompting. Usually he wants to wait until you ask, or you're the one playing with the hem of the shirt and trying to get it off. But the confidence in his movements is both amazing and distractingly attractive, and you're staring unabashedly with lust blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.

Your eyes trail over his skin —the freckles and scars that letter his collarbones, the flush that's spread from his throat down over his chest. Down to his abs and following the V that leads below the waist of his sweats —which are straining from the hard on that's hidden beneath.

"You're staring," he teases, and it's a shaking sort of tease —like he's unsure of if he should be speaking.

"You're hot," you confess, but it's not really a confession at this point.

You've told him he's hot before —he doesn't believe you usually. But the little grin on his face suggests that maybe today, he does.

"You're too good for me," he counters as his hands slide up your thighs and over your hips. Then he's leaning in closer, pressing his lips to your jaw and peppering kisses over your skin.

You buck slightly at the touch, chasing it, and he immediately gives in and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings. You suck in a breath, and he pauses, but you lift your hips in response, a silent plea to continue. He doesn't hesitate and pries your clothes off of you, tossing them to the floor, before settling between your legs on his knees. You move to take off your shirt but he stops you, one hand holding you down.

"Don't," he warns, puling away to look down at you. "Let me do this for you."

You watch him for a moment but nod, pulling your hands away from your shirt. Bob's hands are slow —not teasing, not purposely at least —dragging up your hips to your waist, pushing your shirt up as he goes. His fingers trail along your ribs, just grazing the edge of your bra. You briefly wonder if he'll try to take it off or if you'll need to do that yourself —but he settles on pulling your shirt over your head first.

Your skin is warm and soft against his fingers, and he's watching as your chest rises with each breath you take in anticipation. You're still sitting up on your elbows, waiting, watching, when he leans down and pulls you up against his chest. One hand is bracing your lower back as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra.

Confidence doesn't matter when it comes to bras, because they're evil, he decides as he sighs in frustration. He almost caves into the embarrassment, worried he's ruined the moment. But you reach behind your back with ease and unclip it, and toss it away. He wants to complain, and you can see he does, but you wrap your arms around his neck again and pull him into a messy kiss.

It's all teeth and tongues, deepening each second his hands grip you tighter. Then he's laying you back down, dragging his lips from yours to your jaw. Then down your throat. One of his hands holds your hip, but the other is trembling as it approaches your breast and tentatively squeezes it. You hum in response, and his mouth is on your nipple now, grazing it with his teeth.

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

Though you certainly wouldn't refuse one or two of those.

Perhaps he can read your mind, or maybe he just knows what he wants —it doesn't really matter —because he gives your breasts one final squeeze and nip then trails his mouth down your stomach. The closer he gets to you, the more fidgety you become. You can feel his lips smile against your skin.

"It's okay," he promises, breath fanning over your thighs as he parts them slowly.

His fingers are trembling slightly, pressed into your thighs just enough to leave marks. Like he's scared that if he lets go, you're going to pull away from him. But he shakes those thoughts from his head, shifting down the bed until he's sitting on his knees on the floor. You're about to argue, to ask him what he's doing, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and yanks you down the bed until your legs are over his shoulders. You gasp, and his nose just barely presses above your wet core.

He groans, pressing his forehead into your thigh, fingers tightening around you. "God, you are...you're so wet."

"I told you," you sigh, running a hand through his hair, guiding him to look up at you through his lashes. "You're hot. This is hot. Everything you're doing is just...hot."

He melts into you, taking a moment to ground himself in your touch. "You have no idea how much you do for me," he admits, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh softly. "But I'm...I'm going to try to show you."

"Oh, Bob, you don't —,"

But you cut yourself off with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his face in between your legs. Your hips move involuntarily, chasing his tongue as it swipes through your folds. He doesn't stop you, only presses his tongue flat against you before he sucks on your clit.

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

"Oh-oh," you sigh, involuntarily clenching around his one finger. "Oh, god, more —please —you're doing so good.."

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

You cry out his name, back arching off the bed as you beg for him to go faster. He pulls out, just briefly, and you swear you hear him groan again. But you're too distracted by his fingers pressing up into you once again to notice any sounds that aren't the sounds of him finger-fucking you and him whining as he sucks on your clit.

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

And that tips you over the edge, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out as you ride out your orgasm. You're crying out his name, begging him to stop because it's sensitive —fuck, your nerves are on fire —but he knows you don't actually want him to stop. It feels so good —the wave after wave of your orgasm washing over you before you hear him cry out himself, his body jerking against yours as he cums all over his hand.

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

When you've finally come to your senses —a solid five minutes later —you pull him up to lay beside you, pushing his hair out of his face. He's smiling at you lazily, hand laying against the base of your throat to feel your heartbeat.

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,

"I think I might start believing it soon."

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @myrrh-dock

[kanerallels]

RebelCaptain "and they lived" au? And/or "had a special but forgotten meeting as children" au (is that a thing xD) 🥺 Happy Star Wars Day!

OHHHHH FRIEND. That is DEFINITELY a thing and it happens to be a thing I DEEPLY LOVE so I hope you enjoy this:

“Our contact is on Pantora.”

“Pantora?” Jyn sounded taken aback, and Cassian glanced at her.

“You know it?”

She nodded, slowly. “My—I’ve been there before. When I was little. I only remember parts of it.”

When she was little. So with her parents, Cassian guessed, and didn’t press the issue. “Well, you’re about to go there again. Should be a quick in and out mission. The contact will leave the intel at a dead drop spot, and we’ll pick it up. Got it?”

Jyn nodded, her expression going serious, the way it always did before a mission. “Got it.”

They came out of hyperspace above Pantora minutes later, and had landed within half an hour. It was odd, Cassian reflected, how a place came back to you, even if you’d only been there once or twice, far younger.

He’d been to Pantora on a few runs with Maarva and Clem, when he wasn’t much older than seventeen, to sell what they’d scavenged. Apparently they’d had a good buyer there, because it hadn’t been near Ferrix. But whoever had bought from them paid well enough that they’d returned quite a few times.

Now, he wondered who it was. If they’d been connected to the contact they were following up with, or if it was just a coincidence. Less and less seemed that way these days—but despite Chirrut’s best attempts, Cassian usually wasn’t one to believe in fate, or the will of the Force. Not most days, anyways.

As they moved through the streets, he saw Jyn looking around, studying the sturdy but beautiful buildings around them. Pantora wasn’t Naboo or Alderaan in its natural beauty, and it certainly wasn’t Coruscant, but there was still something about it. Or maybe it was just the memories Cassian saw in so many of the street corners.

“See anything you remember?” he asked as Jyn paused, studying a tea shop thoughtfully.

“I think…we stopped there,” she said, voice distant. “I didn’t like the tea I got, so Papa drank it for me, and promised to get me another treat. Mama said he’d spoil me, but…I remember her smiling.” She shook her head, glancing at Cassian as if waiting for a reprimand, a reminder that they should focus.

He didn’t want to offer one. He wanted to say that they could stop on the way back, have tea, and spend a little time looking for more memories of the family she’d lost far too young. He understood what that was like.

But he also knew they had a contact to meet and an Empire to avoid, and with Skywalker’s destruction of the Death Star things were more dangerous than ever.

So he met her gaze, let her see that he wasn’t impatient or judgemental, then quietly said, “This way. We’ll cut through the square.”

She nodded, the smallest hint of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth, and they kept going.

The square was another one of those uniquely beautiful places on Pantora. For one thing, it was an actual square—a wide expanse in the middle of all the buildings and shops of bricks, bracketed in by flowering trees and lined with benches, a fountain in the middle. The bricks that made up the pavement were brightly colored, and asymmetrical in shape, like each one had been handcrafted by someone different. It was a patchwork of colors, and Cassian remembered Maarva had loved it.

He felt himself slow a little as he crossed it, almost coming to a stop by the fountain where he’d tossed pebbles—credits were too scarce to waste in water, and pebbles were common enough—just to see the water stir.

As he moved level with the fountain, he sensed the absence of someone at his side. Turning, he saw Jyn had stopped between two of the flowering trees, staring at the brickwork.

Moving back to her side in a few strides, Cassian said, “Hey. Everything good?”

“I…remember this place,” she said in a slow, wondering voice. “I stopped to look at the bricks because they were so pretty, and when I looked up…Mama and Papa were gone.” She looked up at him, brown eyes meeting his, and said, “And then…a boy found me. And helped me.”

For a moment, Cassian didn’t know what she was saying, and then it hit him. Because he remembered this, too.

He was waiting for Maarva and Clem to get back from their meeting, tossing pebbles into the fountain aimlessly. The sunlight was warm on his back, and he’d only been keeping half an eye out for stormtroopers when he saw it.

Or rather, her. A little girl, on her tiptoes, picking flowers from the trees. A brilliant smile lit up her face, like she had no other care in the world. Like the sun above them could never cast a shadow. 

It had reminded Cassian of his little sister, who he’d lost, and he’d watched just a heartbeat longer than he usually would have.

Which had turned out to be a good thing. Because the next thing he knew, an Imperial patrol was marching into the square. Everyone else knew to move, to keep their heads down. But the little girl didn’t move. Her head held high, she kept about her business, and Cassian had known it was only a matter of time.

Sure enough, one of the passing troopers pushed roughly past her, and she felt with a cry, the flowers she held scattering to the wind. Cassian had been on his feet before he knew what he was doing. Closing the distance between them, he’d pulled the girl to her feet and out of sight behind the fountain, away from the Imperials.

She wasn��t crying, even though the heels of her hands were scraped, and there were tears in her eyes. She looked angry, more than anything else. “You okay?” Cassian asked her, kneeling in front of her, and she nodded in a little jerk.

“They made me drop my flowers,” she said, her crisp Core World accent sharp in every syllable, and Cassian wondered who this girl was, what she was doing here. Where her parents were.

“I know,” he said. “But you can still see them in the trees.”

“It’s not fair,” she muttered, blinking hard.

“They never are.”

“They should be.”

Cassian had to smile at her vehemence. “They should. Maybe the only way to make things fair is to do it yourself.”

She nodded, ever so serious as she blinked away the tears, and Cassian asked, “Do you know where your parents are?”

She shook her head. “They were walking ahead, and I wanted to look at the trees. So I stayed here.”

Not a hint of fear in her voice, and Cassian couldn’t help but admire it a little. “Let’s go find them,” he said, and she took his hand without prompting.

Maarva and Clem had been furiously worried when he got back. But it was worth it to see the little girl’s delight when she saw her parents. None of her emotions seemed mild—all bright and crackling like lightning. And her parents were equally relieved to see her, her father sweeping her into his arms.

He’d left them like that, remembering the little girl’s bravery and ferocity. But only for a little while. Soon the memory faded away. Until then.

Cassian stared at Jyn, seeing the echo of the little girl she’d been in her eyes.  Still fierce, still brave. “That was you,” he said slowly.

A breeze caught a few of the petals and tangled them in her hair as she nodded. “It was. I remember telling my papa how nice you were…” she trailed off, and Cassian could see a hundred unspoken thoughts in her eyes. “You came for me, even then.”

“I always will.” The words slipped out, simple and true as all the other things he’d never said, but always meant. There seemed to be far too many, and he couldn’t carry them all forever.

A smile crossed her face. “I know.”

Another heartbeat passed, and then Jyn spoke, her tone back to normal. “We should keep moving.” Before Cassian could even move, she had, stepping past him and sweeping her hair back behind her ears, sending the loose petals scattering to the ground.

Cassian caught one as it fell, and tucked it into his pocket.

[shadowwolfmemes]

Hey, if it isn't too much of a bother can you explain the how rainbow drama? I heard you had to block her? if anything this vaguely reminds me of the Haily situation where she got mad at you, don't wanna bring that up tho I'm just confused

Look, I said it multiple times and it's frankly getting tedious to repeat. I'm tired of people downplaying my feelings by saying I'm 'overreacting' yet I'M the apathetic one. This is starting to piss me off.

IT WAS MORE THAN JUST RAINBOW LYING ABOUT HER AGE.

That wasn't the sole reason I blocked her! I mean, yeah, it's absurd to lie about age just to fit in, but the root goes deeper than that.

Sundecline was in her community and so were a few other minors like @scally-wiggles716. She kept on saying her community is full of adults, but there were still minors inside of it. I knew something wasn't right, but I kept my mouth shut because I was still her loyal guard dog. If that isn't a red flag, then I don't know what is.

They were removed from the community specifically after proshippers tried to shit on Rainbow's name.

I don't agree that she's a groomer, I know that's not true. But that's not what I was upset about.

It seems like this person is trying to shit on Rainbow, but what they're saying is actually true. She DID go after people when she didn't have to. Rainbow shamelessly disregarded her DNI to argue with proshippers, which not gonna lie, is pretty hypocritical.

I know I disregarded my own DNI a few times, but I'm trying not to do that anymore because it's not doing me any favors. I got to admit I'm not proud of that and told myself I should NOT go down that path or else I'm a hypocrite.

Meanwhile, Rainbow does it for the sake of arguing. I tried giving her advice more than once so that her mental health doesn't get damaged even more, but it never worked. Rainbow herself admitted to being reckless.

Not only that, she put @altlololsstuff on blast because she accused them of being a proshipper. I don't know what led up to Rainbow doing that in the first place. When they tried to talk to her in the DM's about it, she screenshotted them to not only ridicule them, but twisted the narrative to make herself look like the hero with her mighty savior complex.

When I was still Rainbow's guard dog, I thought it was okay to make fun of them because I was blinded from loyalty and believed everything Rainbow said. It's like I was a puppet attached to strings, no thought of my own.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Take a good look at this screenshot.

[If you want more context, you can ask them, but don't be rude towards them.]

With that being said, I'm fucking tired, Dani. I want to move on already. I tried moving on, but people like forgotten-latte just had to bring it back.

She could've just asked like you did, but no, she doubled down and called me apathetic after ignoring EVERYTHING I covered in my post. She tried to do that with Sundecline and she did it to @syltheanti.

I guess she realized I'm no longer Rainbow's gullible guard dog, so I'm assuming she wanted to take that place willingly. When will she realize that she cannot force people to forgive Rainbow just like that? Unfortunately for her, it doesn't work that way. You don't just demand respect how you want and whenever you want.

Just like loyalty, it has to be earned. I don't give a rat's rotting ass how old someone is or how mistreated they are. I would definitely feel bad if I hurt Rainbow deeply, but we both know she did this to herself.

Of course, she makes mistakes like everyone else does.

Of course, mistakes make up for who we are.

Of course, I want her to learn and grow as a person.

This is just the consequence of repeating those same mistakes. Now I obviously don't agree with people harassing Rainbow for anything, she's still a human being behind the screen.

Just because I want nothing to do with her anymore doesn't mean I want her to get bullied into oblivion.

I know this is a long ass rant, but I really need to blow this frustration off. If you still think I shouldn't have blocked Rainbow for those reasons, block me if you want. I don't fucking care anymore.

Just please stop assuming I 'overreacted' over that...

[fuck-customers]

TW: potential sexual harassment, adult in diaper, potential exposing of oneself, aggressiveness,

This is a really weird and long one so I totally understand if it doesn't get submitted. A couple months ago I was working as a pizza delivery driver. I knocked on this guys door (as I had his pizza delivery) and he opened the door wearing a diaper and a short shirt (almost crop top length). I saw that a bit TOO much was hanging out of the diaper. I won't go into detail but I could see his genitals and felt very uncomfortable and afraid. Anyway, I went to hand him his pizza and I said the total. He had a card ready and I said "oh was this meant to be cash?"

So, this is my mistake here - our dockets said 'cash delivery' in big font at the bottom of every order not paid online, but when it was to be paid on the portable card machine there is a smaller text below 'cash delivery' that says 'eftpos machine'. I hadn't seen the 'eftpos machine' text when I was getting in my car so I didn't take the eftpos machine with me.

When the guy brought out the card, I looked at the docket and said 'I'm sorry, I've misread and not brought the eftpos machine, I'm going to call my store and ask what to do' (just as an add on, this was during my second week working there so I was relatively new which was why I didn't know what I should do in this situation). He was starting to get agitated and kept staring at me so I just called my store, and my manager told me that the customer could either pay over the phone with his card number or I could come back to get the eftpos machine. I told the customer this, and he started yelling at me, saying things like 'you're trying to rob me of my fucking money' 'what is your problem are you stupid' and 'how are you going to make this up to me' and heaps of random shit. I just stood there in shock and tried to calm him down but he kept going and going. I kid you not this guy probably yelled at me for like two-four minutes straight.

I ended up saying that I would drive back to the store to get the eftpos machine (the store was literally the street over from this guy's house) and that I would be back in 5 mins. He started yelling at me again saying that I was going to take his pizza and that his food was going to get cold. I told him that I wasn't going to take the pizza and that I was going to leave it with him, and then I left to get the machine.

When I got back to the store my manager was pissy with me that I hadn't brought it in the first place. I told him that the customer had made me uncomfortable because he had pretty much exposed himself to me and then yelled at me for about five minutes (which my manager heard all of over the phone call!) and my manager said he didn't give a fuck and told me to go back to the house.

I came back to the house, and I knocked on the door. The guy called out 'come in!' and I'm thinking hell fucking no I'm not walking into this guys house. He keeps calling out 'just come in! come in!' but I just stand at the door. Eventually he comes to the door and I hand him the eftpos machine. He looks at me and he says 'you know, you have to be better at your job, because SOME people would yell at you for something like that'. And then he closed the door.

I have had no idea what to make of this situation. I really want to believe that this guy had something like dementia which could cause him to not realise that his attire was inappropriate and could also cause the aggression and feelings of persecution. He looked to be about 50-60, so this could definitely be the case. When it happened I felt so uncomfortable and scared, which was mainly because I could see some of his genitals. A part of me is afraid that he had malicious intent behind opening the door to me with his stuff partially hanging out, but I'm just not sure. I know that I fucked up with not reading the docket correctly but I just really don't think that I deserved all of that for that mistake. I think I'm actually more mad at my manager who just told me to go back there alone, even after I told him what had happened and that I was uncomfortable. Also for context I am a 22 year old woman so I was quite afraid lol. Anyway, I've quit now, so thank god for that.

Posted by admin Rodney

[thefloorisbalaclava]

can you write something about making frank laugh? i dunno why but i think it would be the cutest thing.

A smiling Frank is a rare thing. It could be the eighth wonder of the world, honestly. But that's what made the smiles so special. That and he seems to save them all for you. The ones that reach his eyes are your favorite. The shy ones are second best.

But the greatest moment was the first time he laughed in front of you. You two had been sitting together at home together just enjoying each other's company. Neither of you had to say a thing, just being in the same room on the same sofa was enough.

"Want something to drink?" he asked, breaking the silence. You nodded. "Beer?"

You shook your head. "Soda, please."

"Mkay," he said, groaning as he stood up.

"You sound like an old man," you teased, and he froze.

"Don't start," he said with a smile.

He walked to the kitchen then returned with a Pepsi for you and a Coors for him. He was already drinking when you popped the can open, soda spraying you in the face. Frank tried to swallow the beer in his mouth quickly, but the laugh wouldn't let him. Beer sprayed out of his mouth, getting on him and you, adding to the mess the soda made.

You turned to him silently and he laughed loudly.

"This is funny to you?" you asked, face serious.

He cleared his throat and tried his best to stop laughing but failed. He laughed from deep in his belly, making you smile as you watched him. Soon, you both were laughing until you couldn't anymore.

But even when you stopped, he kept going. Leaning back against the sofa, he grabbed his stomach and finally calming down. Little laughs continued to bubble forth. You just watched him and he looked at you.

"What?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"I just...I don't think I've ever seen you laugh," you said, smiling.

He grinned. "It's been such a long time..."

"I think it's my new favorite sound," you told him, and he gave you one of his shy smiles.

"What was your favorite sound before?" he wondered.

You pretended to think. "Definitely not your snoring," you joked.

"Very funny." He rolled his eyes.

"Um...your voice," you admitted.

"Really?" he asked.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Another shy smile. "No one's ever told me that before."

"Well, now they have."

"Yeah," he said smiling, "Yeah, they have."

[notapradagurl7]

Just Us.

Black Fem! Reader x Kevin Awater

Summary: You had a surprise for Kevin while he was being stalled to not arrive yet to the hotel. Little did he know, he wasn't ready.

(Requested by @keyera-jackson )

Warnings: dirty talk, surprise, use of ice, love-making, ties for hands, oral, use of ice, a blindfold, ties for the hands, rubbing all over, kissing, dirty talk, sweet nothings, oral, and slow, soft but rough thrusting.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @secret89sblog @ranikyani

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @kindofaintrovert

—————

The sun began to set, casting a warm hue over the city as you hurriedly set the final touches in the hotel room.

Tonight was going to be special—a surprise for Kevin Atwater. It was his birthday to be exact and you wanted it to be special.

You wanted to embrace your spontaneous side, and what better way than to create an intimate setting in the hotel just for him?

With the help of your friends, you transformed the room into a cozy retreat. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, and the delicious aroma of creamy mushroom risotto.

You had arranged everything meticulously, knowing how much he loved this dish. The table was set with a crisp white tablecloth, and the sound of water running in the bathroom signaled that everything was almost ready.

“Is everything perfect?” one of your friends asked, adjusting the candles.

“More than perfect. I can’t wait for him to see it,” you replied, excitement bubbling within you.

As Kevin’s shift came to an end, your friends, Adam, Kim and Kiara, kept him occupied, allowing you to make the final preparations.

When you received the text that he was on his way, you quickly slipped into a plush bathrobe, a playful smile on your lips. Your friends finally left.

You wanted to add an element of surprise, something that would make the evening even more memorable. Black lingerie, hugging around your frame.

When the door opened, Kevin stepped inside, his confusion turning to awe as he took in the romantic setup. “Wow, what is all this?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Just a little surprise, I wanted to do something special for you,” you said, your heart racing.

Kevin’s mind off lingered to the date, it was definitely your anniversary of dating each other. Nine years.

He stepped closer, pulling you into a warm hug before kissing your lips. “You ain't have to do this, but I’m so grateful you did.”

Dinner was delightful, filled with laughter and beloved memories.

After finishing the meal, you playfully suggested, “Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

As he stepped into the bathroom, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. You knew you wanted to make this night unforgettable.

While he showered, you slipped out of your bathrobe, revealing a sexy yet comfortable black lingerie set that hugged your curves just right. “Damn, he mumbled under his breath. The blindfold blocking his vision.

When he emerged, the steam from the bathroom enveloped him, and his eyes widened at the sight. “Wow, you look gorgeous,” he breathed, taking a moment to drink you in.

“Thank you. I thought I’d add a little spice to the evening,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Kevin stepped closer, his hands reaching out to caress your waist. “You definitely did,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “What else do you have planned?”

With a mischievous smile, you pulled out a blindfold and some soft ties, holding them up for him to see. “How about we take this up a notch?”

His smile widened, and he nodded eagerly. You gently placed the blindfold over his eyes, leading him to the bed.

The room as you secured his hands with the ties, making sure he was comfortable yet restrained.

“Just relax,” you whispered, leaning in to plant soft kisses along his neck and shoulders. He shivered under your touch, the heat of the moment enveloping you both.

You began touch his body with your hands, rubbing over his chest and arms, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers. “You’re so strong, baby,” you murmured, planting kisses along his collarbone. The sweet nothings spilled from your lips, fueling the passion in the air.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he replied, his voice with desire. You rubbed the ice on his nipples, they went erect. He shudder from it.

With a playful grin, you slid down, teasing him with your lips, kissing along his thighs, inching closer to where he wanted you most. Kissing his tip, before wrapping your mouth around his dick, bopping your head, spit trickling from your lips. “Fuck,” he grunted deeply. The blindfold fell from his eyes.

Your head kept that pace, his wrists pulled but kept him still. He wanted to touch you, you moaned at the thickness of his dick, his eyes rolled back at the vibration. “That’s my girl..”

But then he was close, his dick twitched in your mouth eliciting you to come up for air, and collapsed on the side while his tip spurted a thick amount of cum on the sheets, both of you panting. “Fuck..”

“How was it?”

“Good as hell, baby, come here and ride this dick,” Kevin replied back.

His grip on your hips tightens slightly as you slid down his dick while he hissed sharply. he gently pushed his dick between your slick folds, "F-fuck...Kevin." you gasped softly, by your instructions, he gently buckling his hips upward.

Taking his time to ensure your comfort and pleasure. Your ragged breath hitched with every thrust, “That pussy too tight..fuck..” he moaned, while his head thrashed on the pillow. “You like that?” you groaned, rolling your hips. “I love it,” he replied back, his strokes were slow and rough, as if savoring every moment.

The sounds he made sent shivers down your spine, and you reveled in the pleasure of giving him joy.

As you both reached the peak of your desires, Kevin pulled you close, whispering, “I love you. I’m so grateful for this moment, for you.”

You untied the ties, and he stood up from the bed, pulling out a small red velvet box. “I love you too,” Your half lidded eyes locked with him, once he pulled it out.

“What are you doing, Kev?” You asked

Kevin grinned, he pulled up his sweatpants. And he was kneeled down on one knee, “Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

Tears falling from your eyes, nodding your head frantically. “Yes! I will marry you!”

You slipped on his tee shirt, and jumped into his arms, hugged him right while he caught you immediately. Carefully, he slipped on the ring.

He settled you onto the edge on the bed, kissing you multiple times. “I love you Y/N,”

“I love you, too. Kevin.”

————-

[partyluvr]

MULIEBRITY, mark lee

in which mark lee falls in love with his bisexual bestfriend.

downbad!mark x fem!reader

status: on going

chapter iii. suits & fine dining

prev | next

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆

"yo, can i borrow your suit?"

mark rummaged through your closet while you kept yourself busy in the kitchen.

"sure.” you replied. your small apartment was an advantage to not having to scream even when you were in separate room. “i only have one clean, though. the other one's in the laundry."

mark’s hands are busy making a mess in your not so tidied closet, looking for the said black suit. his eyes finally fell upon the clothing he had been searching for, he took it out of the hanger and straightened the crinkled material. he needs to iron it himself when he gets home.

"found it."

walking out of your bedroom, mark was met with you who was busy cutting what looks like chicken patty. knowing your diet, he knows that's got to be a substitute for chicken—definitely cauliflower, mark remembers you making a vegan chicken sandwich using cauliflower, it tasted pretty good, to his surprise. he remembers you feeding it to him, your eyes sparkling with excitement, eager to brag to him how the cauliflower taste just like a chicken patty. he remembers it vividly, you feeding it to him and he tries so hard to be normal about it.

"got it?" you questioned, briefly looking up from her busy hands.

mark raised the suit in his hand for you to see, in which you took another brief glance before dropping your gaze back to the cutting board. mark took a split second to take in the way you look right now. a baggy pajama pants, a white t-shirt, and an apron. how badly he wanted to get behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. he, also, would like to kiss your neck and have you writhe under his touch, but that’s a fantasy for later.

"what do you need it for?" you asked, breaking him out of his trance.

"my mom asked me to come have dinner with the family since it's been a while."

"fine dining?"

mark nodded, eyes still examining the suit in his hands. 

"ooh, fancy."

"do you want to come with?" mark asked, finally putting the suit down, laying it neatly on the sofa. he's thinking as to how to bring it home without ruining it. he's too lazy to iron it himself. "my mom would love for you to come."

you chuckled. “mark, it's a family dinner. as much as i want to, i'd hate to feel out of place."

"don't be silly,” his voice soft. “you're like a family to us."

that was the truth. you don’t have the best relationship with your family and mark has took it upon himself to make sure you know that you can always turn to him and his family anytime you need.

your parents are religious and you are far from it. that’s one of the first thing mark noticed from you when you first started being friends. your lack of faith is so contrast to him. you have always had problems being emotionally connected to your religion, and as you grew older you realized that maybe you’re just not a spiritual person. mark had no problem with that. he’s very comfortable with his faith and relationship with god that your atheist beliefs don’t bother him. if anything, he admired your bravery for being honest with yourself.

it took awhile for you to open up about your complicated family relationship to him. he was glad you trusted him enough to be open to him. ever since then mark would try and get you involved with his family. at first he was worried that he might come off as pushy and condescending, but he knew he made the right decision when he noticed that you were getting closer and friendlier to his mom. you get along really well, and mark hoped his mother could somehow temporarily fill the gap of the lack of parental figure in your life.

"thank you, lee, but it's fine. you go have fun wearing my suit." you chuckled.

mark sighed softly. he would love for zo to tag along, but forcing you and making you feel out of place is the last thing he wants. he understands that no matter how close you’re getting with his family, it still won't feel the same. the invisible barrier would still be there, and he understands that you would never feel completely at home.

"okay." he sighed once again. "it's this friday night if you change your mind, though."

"aw, shit." you whined. "then i really can’t go. i already got plans for friday."

mark simply nodded at that. usually he would ask you to elaborate what plans you’re having, but he doesn't feel like getting his heart crushed at the moment. he knows you’re probably going out with someone, someone that was not him. usually he would understand, but he doesn't feel like being so understanding at the moment. he wants to be selfish, to have you all for himself.

"we can hang out on saturday night, though." you suggested.

mark nodded again, more excitedly this time. "sure. in or out?"

"let's just plan it last minute."

chuckling, he responded. "yes, ma'am."

"you go have fun friday night. don't ruin my suit, though. that one's my favorite." you glared at him playfully, pointing a knife—she was so conveniently happened to be holding—at him.

mark furrowed his eyebrows. "how the fuck would i ruin a suit?"

"i don't know." you shrugged. "remember when you borrowed jaehyun’s tuxedo and you burned a hole through the sleeve?”

"it was one time! i didn't know johnny was holding a cigarette." mark protested, throwing his arms up in defense. "dude, if anything, we should be glad i didn’t get burned.”

it wasn't fully mark’s fault. he remembered it was taeyong’s wedding. him and a couple other guys were outside the ballroom just after they cut the cake. mark hadn’t realized johnny was standing beside him holding a cigarette, not until he heard a hissing noise.

jaehyun wasn't mad about the tux. his parents could pay him to get another one custom made if he wanted to. sometimes mark envies being that wealthy.

you squinted your eyes at him, enjoying poking fun at the boy. "right. don't do that to my suit."

"dude, i doubt anyone would be smoking in a fine dine." he rolled his eyes. 

"oh yeah, i keep forgetting it's fine dining." you chuckle before putting a serious face and once again pointed a knife to his face. "behave."

"you're so fucking annoying." mark rolled his eyes once again, turning his heel to walk away from you who clearly were having a good time teasing him.

"i mean it, lee, behave!" your voice yelled from the kitchen as mark entered your bedroom. he could almost hear your smirk from the tone.

"fuck you!"

"i love you too!"

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆

[lucydixon]

Basement Betrayal pt.2

Summary: Øystein wakes up after the two of you have your worst fight yet and finds you gone. When he finds you, he realizes very quickly just how badly he fucked up. Warning: Hypothetical SA

In the morning, you were gone, and Øystein stood behind the counter, blinking at your empty bed. 

He hadn’t really thought about it before, but you rarely left the store alone, and you definitely never left without saying anything. 

He glanced out the front windows to try and see if he could see you outside, but the streets were entirely barren. 

The shop owner gnawed on his bottom lip, but got on with his day, opening the store and letting Faust and Occultus in to set up. 

They’d asked where you were and he had to tell them that he didn’t know while trying not to look like he’d been thinking about it all morning. 

Faust had made a comment about it being weird that you just disappeared, then went to look over your bunk. 

“Uh, all her stuff is gone?” He looked up at Øystein like he should’ve noticed. 

“What?” he frowned. Looking it over for himself. 

It looked the same as it usually did, but when he looked closer, he saw that all your jewelry was gone from the windowsill and your sketchbooks weren’t sitting on the shelf above the TV. 

“Her clothes are still here.” He pointed out. 

“She doesn’t give a shit about her clothes.” Faust shook his head, already looking a bit concerned. He was obviously trying to hide it, though. “She took all the important stuff with her.” 

“For fuck’s sake.” Øystein muttered under his breath, “We have rehearsal this afternoon.” 

“Maybe she’ll be there?” Occultus shrugged, picking out a record to play. “She’s never late for anything, ever. It’s like her thing.” 

“So is wandering off.” Øystein reminded himself. “I’m sure she’s fine. Probably just out robbing a bank or something.” 

Occultus laughed, but Faust didn’t. 

When he got to the henhouse, you were, in fact, there, chatting with Jan Axel as if everything was normal. 

He almost made a comment about your disappearing act, but held back and just started setting up, doing all he could to act like he didn’t give a shit. 

He told himself that you were just being sensitive. 

That you needed to toughen up if you were going to keep hanging out with them now that they were getting into the hard stuff.

But he knew that it was just him trying to convince himself. 

“Are you two done fucking around?” He snapped once he’d gotten set up. 

You and Jan blinked at him before taking your places. 

You gave him a sharp look, but turned your attention to your instrument, eager to get this over with so you could go back to being alone. 

The beginning notes of ‘funeral frog’ began to play, and you let your stress dissolve into the music, bobbing your head to the beat, hair blocking all views of Øystein and anything else that might distract you. 

The session was tense, but the music was there. 

Øystein had been planning on asking you if you’d record the next album with them, but your spat the night before kept him from opening his mouth. 

“Do you want a ride back to the shop?” Jan offered, able to feel the animosity between his bandmates from across the room. 

“No thanks.” You gave him a warm smile and went back to packing your things. 

He hesitated in the doorway, about to insist, but thought better of it and left. 

“So, Jan drove you out here,” Øystein spoke finally, shouldering his guitar case. 

“No,” you didn’t look up to meet his gaze, “I met him here, same as you.” 

“How’d you get here then?” His brows pulled together slightly. 

“I took the bus.” You shrugged. 

“The closest bus stop is a two-hour walk from here.” 

“That’s right.” 

“And you did all that just so you didn’t have to sit in the car with me for twenty minutes?” 

“Mhmm.” You just hummed, heading for the door. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” He told you, doing all he could not to apologize. “Just get in the car, I’ll drive you back.” 

“I don’t need you to.” 

“So you’re gonna be a brat and walk to the bus stop just to prove a point?” 

“No,” you frowned, looking at him finally. “That would be silly. I don’t need you to drive me back to the store, because I’m not going back.” 

“What?” He couldn’t help the shock in his voice, “Where are you going then?” 

“I moved back into the house,” you pointed across the lot at the decrepit farmhouse that looked about the same as it did when you’d left it months before. “I’ll keep coming to practice until you find someone to replace me.” 

“And what?” Øystein leaned back against the Volvo, looking at you in disbelief. “You’re just never going to see any of us again?” 

“Of course not.” you sighed, “They’re still my friends. I’ll be at gigs and stuff, I just can’t live with you anymore.” 

“All this because Varg asked you to strip and I asked if you and Faust were fucking?” He scoffed, leaning into the anger instead of the ache in his chest at the thought of not having you around anymore. 

“That’s an awfully simplified version of what happened last night, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah? How did it happen inside your head? Huh?” He asked. 

“Inside my head,” you repeated slowly, shaking your head. 

“I’m gonna continue this conversation only because if I don’t I’m gonna be all pissed off and I’ll do something I'm gonna regret.” your jaw flexed “Let's start with Varg.” 

“He did not just ask me to strip.” You fought not to start screaming at him. “He demanded it, just to see if you would let it happen, and you did. Keep that in mind when we get to the next part.” 

Øystein watched you rant with a frown on his face. 

“You were about to sit there and watch me take all my clothes off, in front of him, another man, and let him do god knows what he was planning. But I sit upstairs and watch a movie with Faust, who has never done anything to me, hasn’t so much as hurt my feelings while you’ve been a raging asshole from the minute I met you, is just too much for you to handle?” 

“I wouldn’t have let Varg do anythi-” He started, but you cut him off. 

“I don’t believe you,” You told him seriously, a slight rattle in the back of your throat. “That shit last night scared me Øystein. You just fucking sat there and watched. I don’t trust you anymore.” 

You felt vulnerable and unprotected, which felt insane to think since you’d spent most of your life watching out for yourself. To be fair, you’d been lucky enough not to experience anything too scary. Devastating and upsetting, sure. But last night in the basement had been the first time you’d felt genuine, cold fear in a very long time. 

Your switchblade could only do so much. 

If Varg had decided to tear it out of your hands and risk slicing his hand open, he could easily overtake you, and you knew it. 

You’d never actually had to use any of your blades on people, the threat had always been enough to scare them off, but Varg was around all the time. You couldn’t get away from him and genuinely feared the inevitable moment where the two of you found themselves in a room together alone. 

If Øystein wasn’t willing to get in between the two of you, then you’d be fucked. 

As much as you hated to admit it, and how it went against everything you’d stood for up until that point, you knew that not all that deep down, you wanted Øystein to protect you. 

And he didn’t. 

“You can trust me.” He insisted, finally feeling the severity of what he’d done. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.” 

“I genuinely, with everything in me, wish that I believed that,” you smiled sadly. “But I don’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” He told you, looking genuine and a little panicked, “For all of it. I am. I don’t know what to do to help you trust me, or why I’m such a dick to you all the time. I don’t even realize what I’m doing is wrong half the time until you bring it up.” 

“So you mean to tell me that when you were sitting there with Varg, waiting for me to take off my clothes, you didn’t fucking feel anything?” you were angry now, spitting your words through your teeth “No part of you thought that it might be wrong to just sit there?” 

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Unable to argue. 

“Imagine being me.” You told him seriously, your tone ice cold “I’m a lot smaller than you, I don’t have anywhere near as much muscle as you do, and I have to live with the knowledge that if you or any other man decides that they’re going to switch up on me and try to hurt me, there’s really not a whole lot I can do about it.” 

“Think about that, then put yourself in my shoes last night. I’m standing there with someone that I’m close to, someone who I trust because I have no reason not to,” you continued, staring directly into his eyes. “Then that person sits back and watches while some guy he barely knows demands that I take my clothes off. Imagine the tone of his fucking voice.” 

“What did you think was going to happen if I hadn’t left? If I’d been too scared to after being spoken to like that? Were you going to watch me take off my clothes, shaking in fear? Would you have watched him fuck me? Even if I was crying?” 

“Stop.” He physically flinched just thinking about it “I never would have let-” 

“But you let it get far enough that I had to pull a knife on him.” 

“I knew you could handle yourself.” Øystein told you, his eyes swimming with regret, “I shouldn’t have let it go that far, I know that. But if he had tried to touch you, I would’ve done something. I swear.” 

“I don’t know what I can do to fix it.” 

“You can’t.” you scoffed, “It happened.” 

“Wait.” There was a slight creak in his voice, desperate and pleading as he started to really panic. He wasn’t going to be able to talk you out of this one. “Just come back with me, I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!” 

You could see that he really was this time, but it didn’t bring you much comfort. 

“You want me to go find him right now and beat the shit out of him?” He asked seriously, “Cause I will. I’d do anything for you.” 

“What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone, Øystein.”

You left him standing there and hauled your Bass back up to the house, not looking back even once.  

You realized very quickly that moving back into the house was a terrible idea and that you’d yet again made an impulsive decision and immediately regretted it. 

The power was out since nobody had been paying the bill. The only place that had any was the Henhouse, but only because of the generator that had ben hauled out there long before you met the boys. The water ran, but only because it came from a well on the property, and it certainly wasn’t warm. 

Aside from the logistics, you were acutely aware that you’d never actually been completely alone in the house before. There was always someone there. 

Now, it felt haunted and hollow, and you felt like tearing your hair out. 

It was pouring rain outside and far too cold to go out without a coat, which you hadn’t thought to bring with you. 

You hadn’t really brought any of your things with you. 

Just some sketchbooks and your jewelry

Your bass lived in the henhouse usually, so you didn’t have to haul it around. There was one back at the shop that you used to practice.

You hadn’t thought to bring that either. 

You stood near the window until you couldn’t tell what time it was. It only seemed to be getting colder, and after a certain point, you had to give up and go up into your old room. 

You didn���t even make it to the top of the stairs. 

Your eyes landed on Pelle’s door, and you just froze. 

You couldn’t do it. 

Instead of spending the night in the living room and waiting to take the bus in the morning, you stashed your belongings in the henhouse and started walking towards Oslo. 

Ten minutes in, you thought about turning around. 

Your clothes were wet, and you were cold, but you thought about the house and Pelle’s door and couldn’t make yourself do it. 

An hour in, your clothes were soaking wet. 

Another, and you could feel the weight of the water. 

You could barely see out in front of you, and by the time you finally reached the edge of the city, you couldn’t feel your nose or fingers. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[sachikokuroichi]

Little Perks of Dating the Radio Demon

It was a recent development. Alastor had known that Lucifer tended to be vocal, not able to shut up and exist in complete silence for any amount of time. But even though he had come to terms with all his quirks and habits, this one was new.

No matter what he was doing, whenever he stopped concentrating on something, be it an activity or a conversation, he would start humming.

Sometimes, mostly while he was tinkering on the newest duck or cooking for the hotel staff, he’d even sing underneath his breath, only single words clearly audible. And Alastor was on the brink of going insane. What was this weird behaviour?

“Can you cease this nonsense?”

Lucifer, who hadn’t paid any attention, whirled around, kinda surprised to not be alone in the kitchen anymore, as he’s currently busy with today’s lunch.

“Huh? What do you mean? It’s my turn cooking today – and we talked about this! You said I should cook this!”

Now it was on the overlord to be confused, “Who is talking about the food? I’m talking about your nonsensical humming!” “Humming?” “Yes! You’re doing it nonstop! For the last week! You really want to tell me you didn’t notice?”

Lucifer stopped and thought about it. “Sorry! I had this song stuck in my head for quite some time. Maybe that’s the reason. I wish I could remember the whole song.”

Alastor felt a vein pulse angrily on his temple. All that nonsense just because his stupid king couldn’t remember a song and had a bit stuck in his little brain? And to add insult to injury, he didn’t even think of asking him, the radio demon, his fucking partner for two and a half years, to help with that certain request?

“Okay, you look pissed. You wanna tell me now, or let it simmer for some time before you explode on me, like you always do?”

Alastor took a deep breath, before crossing the kitchen in a few strides, invading Lucifer’s space, effectively cornering him against the counter, before answering,

“You’re way too lucky that there are some endearing qualities to your person, mon étoile, because let me tell you, your intelligence is definitely not one of those.” “Hey! I was only humming a song! No need to be so mean-!” “Yes! A song. That you couldn’t remember. But here’s an idea: Why not ask someone, who’s whole reputation is about radio, a medium that mostly features, could you guess it? Exactly! Songs! You get it now?”

Lucifer’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning, “You would do that for me? Really?”

Alastor sighed, posture deflating a bit and leaning into his stupid angel.

“Who else would I use my powers for, if not for you, Lucifer.”

A little cuddle session later, the king resumed his task of cooking, while Alastor watched.

“So… what do you need to find the song?” “Simple. I usually ask for the name or the artist, but seeing that you don’t have that, we do a reverse approach. You know some parts of the song. Sing them to me.”

A pretty easy request, at least in Alastor’s eyes. What he didn’t expect was Lucifer to gain a significant uptake in golden colour in his cheeks. Almost like…

“Are you blushing? What kind of song are you thinking of?!” “Nothing what you think! It’s just… one of the newer genres? And… maybe I only remember… a certain… part…”

Alastor shrugged, “Well, it can’t be that bad then… sing, my angel of music.”

Looking like a deer in headlights (it felt strangely nice to not be the one doing that for once), Lucifer kept silent for a few heartbeats. That’s before he turned around again, refusing to look at Alastor while doing this, forcing himself to keep all his focus on the lunch preparations.

He took a deep breath and started humming the tune, building up the courage to actually sing the words stuck in his head out loud.

“In the dark - I see your smile Do you feel my heat on my skin~”

But with every word spilling over his lips, the songs energy, the very thing that had captured his attention, (mostly because it reminded him of all the things Alastor made him feel on a daily basis), came back to him and made him sing the following lyrics proudly,

“Take off your clothes, blow out the fire Don't be so shy, you're alright, you're alright Take off my clothes, oh, bless me, father Don't ask me why, you're alright, you're alright~”

Alastor in the meantime hadn’t been prepared for how those few lines could possibly hit him.

The way Lucifer had just sung them to him, his beautiful voice, full of dark promises and temptation, serenading such lecherous words to him… it made him feel things.

Things he hadn’t been prepared for feeling anytime soon.

“So? You think you can work with that?”

Lucifer’s question ripped him rather violently out of his inner turmoil. Shaking his head, he hummed, pretending to have to think about it. Not like he was already a couple steps ahead, plotting, scheming.

The song? He already knew which kind of abomination had taken root in his beloved’s brain. But in this very moment Alastor had other concerns. Besides that, Lucifer wanted to hear that song again? Well, that could be arranged. And then… then he would make him sing to it.

A few days later, Alastor had requested Lucifer to meet him in the throne room of the palace. An unusual request, but the king was pretty used to his lover’s weird antics at this point.

Opening a portal and stepping through, his ears immediately picked up on the long lost music echoing through the vast room.

“Hey! You did manage to find the song after all! Good job!”

But weirdly enough, Alastor was nowhere to be seen.

“Alastor? Where are you?”

The song was still playing all around him, so he had to be here.

~Home I stay, I'm in, come in Can you feel my hips in your hands? And I'm laying down by your side~

And just then he felt a presence at his back, a very familiar power signature.

“I taste the sweet of your skin~”, Alastor purred against his neck before following through with his words and licking it, slowly, sensually, causing Lucifer to shiver. Before he could respond or react, the presence had vanished, melted into the shadows, and while he would’ve been able to sniff his love out, he felt like playing. The song was going strong still.

This time, Alastor’s voice was mingling with it, still from the shadows, following the chorus, and boy, did that dark voice do bad things to him.

That thought paled to the sight he was gifted in the next moment. Alastor, appearing right in front of him, in the very same nun-outfit he’d fought him in the first time they had met, before taking another step closer and – “Take off my clothes, oh, bless me, father” – going on his knees, hands folded like he was praying to him, “Don't ask me why, you're alright, you're alright~”

And let me tell you… there were no questions asked after this.

If you liked it, consider giving me some love on AO3 as well - link is in the title <3

[write-here-n-now]

a lovesick fool's guide to skating for beginners

C.(S). Sunghoon x GN Reader | WC. 1431 | G. Fluff | Prompt: Wearing down your partner to go skating with you| 

∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘

You knew Sunghoon loved to skate, and you loved that he loved it, but you didn’t have the best memories in all the times you’ve been.

“Please, please, please”

“Sunghoon you know I have two left feet and no stability”

“I’ll make sure you don’t fall~”

Park Sunghoon never begged, but that was before he became a simp—for you.

You were aware of your partner’s many talents. Even taking part in some, but after your disaster of a second date, he never brought up skating—until now.

For the past week all that has been on Sunghoon’s mind was taking you skating, as in he’s been seriously daydreaming about holding your hands to guide you on the ice, BGM playing, dream sequence montage vibes and all. 

After his most recent appearance on Kangnami’s Let Try-nami , it got him thinking as to why he was only ever teaching his members or other people how to skate when he could be teaching you. He was definitely not influenced at all from TikToks of cute couples skating together that he’s saved on his phone since December. 

Sunghoon’s entire cool, nonchalant, “man-of-few-words”, ice prince façade crumbled early on into your relationship but his eagerness to take you skating was something else entirely. 

Plan A. Bribes

It started with your favourite treats—drinks, pastries, candy, chocolate—with some sort of decoration or aesthetic related to skating and ice. But then, he even went as far as getting the two of you custom skates that he just “happened” to see on sale? Why in the world would they make skates with your initials and then put them on sale?

Plan B. Exposure therapy 

Sunghoon was convinced that if he showed you ENOUGH videos of couples or just people skating, eventually you would be enticed. Yet, all that you pointed out was how people kept falling or how you were sure you’d twist your other ankle (re: second date where you twisted an ankle and Sunghoon had never been more terrified of you dumping him before you two even became exclusive). Needless to say, you did not find the videos convincing to try skating, however, you were now well aware of his desperation—how long could you hold out?

Plan C. Nostalgia (Sunghoon POV: Why haven’t you been convinced yet??!?!)

Maybe you just needed a reminder of Sunghoon’s ability, and then maybe you’d trust him again so what did he start doing? He sent you old videos of himself skating. You were a sucker for baby Sunghoon at his skating prime and it was getting harder to resist—he looked so cute and his skating always left you in awe. You knew his angle, it was obvious when the videos he sent had captions like, 

“Wow what a professional!” “I’ve been practicing since I was a child, you’d be in good hands you know…” “Look at how good I look, wanna look good with me?” “Oh how I miss the ice, I want to show you my tricks :( “

You decide it can’t be as bad as you remember and that your boyfriend should be put out of his misery, may as well make use of those custom skates. As fun as it was to watch Sunghoon come up with new ways to convince you, the way his face lit up was incomparable. He may be a simp for you but you’re no less. 

--------

When Sunghoon told you to be ready for 7, you spent the entire day mentally preparing yourself to get back on the ice, but when he asked you to dress up a bit fancy, that threw you off completely. You complied though, opting for something thicker but fancy to keep the cold at bay when skating. 

Prompt as ever, you received a text from Sunghoon at 6:57 p.m. to come down, so you grab the bag of skates and head out—it would be ok-ay.

The drive from your home to the rink is a little longer than you expected but eventually the two of you reach an unfamiliar looking arena.

Sunghoon insists you close your eyes as you two step inside on the way towards the rink, complying, you close your eyes and cover them with your right hand as the left grabs his arm as a guide, him already holding onto your bag of skates with a free hand. 

“Careful, we’re going up some stairs ok…”

You can feel the chill of the presumed rink nip at your cheeks and exposed hands, heart beating fasting in anticipation and perhaps also the loss of one of your senses.

“Wait…wait…” …. Clap.Clap. “Ok ok, now OPEN~!”

The first image that greets your eyes is an array of golden fairy lights decorating the ceiling overhead the ice like a canopy, their fluttering light reflected in the smooth, untouched ice below. Scattered amongst the lights are pink lanterns hanging above, like your personal cherry blossoms. 

Unbeknownst to you, as your eyes observe all the details, the twinkling of lights reflected in your eyes, Sunghoon has a knowing smile on his face, a feeling in his heart that you liked the surprise. 

Your trance is interrupted when Sunghoon tugs your arm to sit down and put on the skates.

“Time for the fun part!” he exclaims, patting the seat beside him as he fishes out his skates.

“Can’t we spend some more time admiring all the pretty lights…?” You bat your eyes, trying your best to convince your boyfriend.

Tsk “We can admire the lights from the ice silly” he replies, patting your head before putting his second skate on while you sat beside him, bag of skates in hand, still hesitating. 

With a deep breath you take out the skates, undoing your own shoes and slipping on the skates. As you bend over to tie them, a pair of hands are already there. Switching his seat from beside you to infront, he pulls up your leg to his lap, 

“Babe, I can tie my own shoelaces…” You whine, trying to pull away but his thigh locks your foot in place.

“Can I not spoil the love of my life a bit?” he huffs, giving you a look that's a cross between pleading and stern, and suddenly you’re unsure if you’re cold from ice or starting to heat up from his gaze. 

You opt to look away, feeling shy under his unwavering gaze. “...fine…”

In no time, both of your skates are tied with a cute bow. With a pat to your skate, he gently lowers down your leg before standing up, offering you a hand to which you graciously accept.

The gate to the rink is open and Sunghoon steps on first while you’re still standing outside the edge, gripping the rink sills. 

With both hands extending towards you, Sunghoon looks at you grinning ear to ear, eagerly waiting.

“I won’t let you fall, I’ve got you,” he assures, voice laced with the utmost sincerity. 

You slowly release the grip you have on the sills and move your hands to hold Sunghoon’s. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, with your umpteenth deep breath of the day, you take your first step onto the ice. A slight shift of your skate causes your hands to tightly clasp onto Sunghoon, whose arm has already adjusted to quickly grip around your torso, making sure you remain upright. Finally both your feet on the ice and get a feeling that maybe this time you’d actually have some fun.

Once he’s sure you’re stable and balanced, Sunghoon grabs onto your forearms, urging you to grip his as well,

“You ready?”

“I better not fall tonight,” you warn, not looking to end up at the ER again.

“Don’t worry, the only thing you’ll fall for is me!,” he assures, adding a wink for effect.

You roll your eyes at the line, but it takes your mind away from any scenarios of falling and breaking a limb.

“OK, I’m gonna start to skate, just hold on yea?” 

“Let’s do this...”

You’re not sure where the music starts to play from but with Sunghoon holding your gaze the two of you begin to move, slowly at first but increasing the speed to match the tempo of whatever tune plays in the background. 

As you make your way around the rink, you think that maybe you should’ve accepted Sunghoon’s offer earlier because you’re sure you never want this moment to end and Sunghoon, well he’s making sure he keeps you on your two feet, otherwise you’ll definitely reject the next surprise he has planned.

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Thinking abt the concept of a twst!au...

Universal love!reader?

Like think about it...

Let's say this could happen after years of trauma in your world... like suddenly, you have no motivation to do anything, no brushing teeth, no showering, no nothing. So then you slept that night. Right? So you're living in your apartment, low minimum-wage of salary in your part-time job, an apartment that (thankfully) had a clean bathroom and other rooms. And a left necklace... huh? So, you've asked the apartment manager abt it, they said they didn't know at all. The previous homeowners did not have that, sparkly magica-madoka looking necklace. So, of course you've kept it with you since it reminds you of Magica Madoka. And you wore it. Now, time to sleep...

Suddenly you wake up, roll over your bed, and get teleported magical-girl transition style. Into the fucking aesthetically pleasing location of the sea. Of course, you had no clothes on (how did that happen??), BUT then, you get suddenly pushed up, and you met with a bathtub in the center of a beautiful-looking gazebo. And when you lay back down to sleep again, you felt a very comfortable and soft pillow-headrest. WTF? The water you were I was somehow connected to a very clean and sparkly river. And the petals around you were your favorite flowers. And two space-like hands, gentle, firm, and soft. The hands of a woman. But from where? The cracked seams of reality BEHIND YOU? Uhm, well shit, where was this spoiling when you were born???

So after that luxurious bathtime, you fell into the waters (again), but the background was new. IT LOOKED LIKE BARBIE'S WALK-IN CLOSET FROM BARBIE'S DREAMHOUSE??? YAAA- Anyways, you were met with a shit-ton of aesthetic college uniforms that definitely matches your taste and make your classmates jealous. So, of course, like the universe itself is reading your mind (bc it is), dressed you up in a comfortable clothing of your uniform. Before it could finish giving you socks/shoes of your choosing.

You were on your bed. With your bag leaning sideways on the bed beside you. So, enough of this bullshit where you were on drugs early morning. You grabbed your bag, checked your mirror to see if you were high or something.

You weren't.

So after a hectic and diabolical day of college, you of course, slept (after the magical-whatever thingy happened again) since you were tired. (The classmate you hated tripped down the stairs as you were praying for it, that one teacher you hate suddenly got sick and had gone absent, gym was dismissed early bc of an incident, and the other subjects like math were a bit easier to understand), so when you slept AGAIN.

Okayyy, so... Maybe it stopped now? Nope. You went to the kitchen to take a quick breakfast since you MIGHT be late to school (secretly you weren't but shh), then you see. On the counter, a freshly made breakfast of your favorite dish. You tasted it ofc. Bc it smelled so nice. And surprisingly it wasn't poisoned! Yay! You went to school, tripped over air, but vines had shot out to catch you? Oh, well things just got even weirder. Until it happens everyday. Everytime you mentioned or even THOUGHT of getting your favorite fashion clothes (look those styles ESPECIALLY MORUTES OR ANGELCORE OR OR EVEN CUTECORE, CELESTIAL CORE-) and whatever, suddenly you have a closet JUST FOR THAT. Huh...did the universe finally take notice of you? Yay! (And maybe other multi-universes justttt incase you suddenly go to their world, haha.)

...You were transported. (And it wasn't the universe or ANY universe doing that...) to... Twisted Wonderland? What. Are you in a kids cartoon show... (no you aren't bby🫶 your in a psyche ward). And after the whole Showdown in that ceremony shit (dark mirror saying you have no magic in the MOST respectful ways possible while still sounding nonchalant and mysterious, the whole showdown with Grim happened and blah blah blah). You get sent to Ramshackle's. Yikes. Oh, but instead it kinda works. Just looks like a doll-house of sorts. Creepy but aesthetically pleasing.

Wdym it wasn't supposed to look like that, Crowley?

So, imagine this, you can ask the dark mirror whatever you like, and it'll answer you (not abt your home though... smh), and whatever you do in school (directing this to the ghosts and whoever works there), actually treats you nicely! (When you and Grim were assigned as janitor you didn't do any of the work. The broom was doing it for you... IS THE TRASH PICKING ITSELF UP?)

How would YOU think the cast will react to that? (Not taking requests rn! Just talk with me please 🙏)

[laurynjc-art]

Trial Separation: A BMC One-Shot

I watch as Jeremy hoists the box into his arms and shoves it into the back of his car with the other piles of junk he’s lugging out to college. I’m honestly a little surprised that he’s kept up the whole “impure thoughts = push-ups” thing his squip forced him into last year, but old habits do die hard. I don’t mind. He can finally be useful when we’re at my place and I get a sudden desire to rearrange my bedroom in the middle of the night. And his girlfriend Christine certainly doesn’t mind, either. I have plenty of blackmail from knowing Jeremy for thirteen years, but I’m sure he’ll do anything I ask if I ever threaten to tell Christine why Jeremy wound up a beefcake overnight.

I wish I could say I was part of the junk Jeremy was bringing up to college, but earlier in the year, it was made pretty clear that Jeremy was flying out in the world solo. This was an upsetting realization for both of us- “Jeremy, I don’t think I even know what I want to do with my life.” I’d told him at some point after we took the SATs.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “You’re not going to kill yourself, are you?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know what I want to do with my life.” It was some decision paralysis, mostly; I could do just about anything. Math, science, coding, I know computers inside and out. But the question was: what skills needed more refinement? What could I get by on? Like how I was already taking Calculus 1 as a junior, which is a lot more than some people can say. And what if I wanted to try and learn about something completely new? I’m not much of an artist, my writing is abysmal by Jeremy’s standards… I got to a point where thinking about it for too long made me want to start screaming.

But then at some point I remembered: oh yeah, high schoolers aren’t legally mandated to be shipped off to college as soon as they graduate. And my decisions began to clear up.

I thought about staying home for another year or so to work, bulk up my savings, maybe take some community college classes if I’m really bored. And school blows, maybe breaking up my theoretical sixteen consecutive years of education and giving myself a break would be better for me.

We had a really long discussion one night about this, Jeremy and I. About our lives and what the future might look like. Which sucked for him, I know I was the one hyping him up about college, and now I’m the one having second thoughts and backing out. There was a lot of weed and a lot more crying, all the while my Wii’s menu music served as the background track to our bout of vulnerability.

Eventually, after a good while of silence, Jeremy lit up a roll and said, “You can do whatever you want.” His phrasing and tone scared me, as did the fact he took a long drag on his joint without saying anything else. I worried this was going to be Jake’s Halloween Party all over again, but then Jeremy grinned and looked back at me with more tears in his eyes. I’m not sure if they were genuine or a result of him getting too high. “I’ll always be behind you. And hey, maybe a trial separation is a good thing.”

“You were the one who made me swear that we’d be going together,” I joked.

“Because I’d miss you!” Jeremy wailed. I chuckled, he was definitely too high. “I can’t stand it when you’re home sick from school, what am I supposed to do when we’re actually God knows how far away from each other?”

“Hey. Hey.” I put my arm around his shoulders. “We’ll figure it out. No matter where we end up.”

And finally, I cleared my decision with my moms, who were more than thrilled to let me stay a basement dweller for another year or so.

Jeremy slams the trunk of his car shut and leans on it, looking at me like he’s expecting me to say something.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“Mm-hm.” Jeremy nods, but his lips are pursed in his “I’m sad but don’t want to talk about it so I’m going to just run away and cry” way. Like he thinks I can’t see right through him.

“Do you want to talk?” I ask him.

“No,” is all he says.

“Do you want me to leave so you can cry into your porn?”

“Shut up.” Jeremy takes a swing at me, but I catch his arm and pull him into an embrace. He hugs me back just as hard.

“It’ll only be a few months, Jer,” I say.

“I know,” he replies. I could hear that he was crying, and I might’ve accidentally made it worse by rubbing his back. He sobs, then says, “I’ll just miss you, man.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Jeremy lets me go so he can wipe his face, and a thought crosses my mind that I worry is a bit too coupley, but hey, who decided articles of clothing were only supposed to be exchanged with a significant other, anyway?

So, as if I’d been planning it all day, I untie my jacket from my waist and hand it to Jeremy.

“Here. Now I’ll be going up with you,” I say. Jeremy gasps.

“B-but Michael, this is your favorite!” He objects.

“Well, you’re my favorite.”

Jeremy laughs in a way that’s more like another sob, then says, “What are we, dating in middle school?”

“Good point,” I joke along. “I wouldn’t wear that around Christine, she might get jealous.” Jeremy laughs, really laughs, which makes me laugh, and then I get this pang in my heart because I don’t think it actually registered until now that oh, yeah, we’re not going out into the world together. I don’t know the next time I’ll get a moment like this. I start tearing up a bit and pray that Jeremy doesn’t notice, but of course he does.

“No no, stop,” Jeremy cries, throwing his arms around my neck. I cannot resist picking him up and spinning him around, and we could have stayed locked in our embrace all night if a cold evening wind hadn’t started cutting through us.

“I guess I better go,” I tell him. “Don't… do anything stupid.”

“I’m pretty sure I already cashed in my stupid,” Jeremy smirks, “but yeah. Obviously.”

One more hug, then I’m in my car and waving goodbye to Jeremy through my rear-view window. For a moment, a pit in my stomach forms at the fear that this might be the beginning of the end for us, but I banish it. We’ve separated under worse circumstances and came back together regardless. It’s just a year. He won’t be that far away. And besides, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

[bluem1lls]

hii tthere, i love ur fics so much oml especially the one that's like a toxic relationship with se-mi, I was wondering if you could write something where f-reader sucks se-mi's strap? like giving her a whole show and everything, you can add anything you want weather it's rough or softer, include degradation etc, however you prefer i just can't get the idea out of my head and i need it lol ✨

you get me closer to god.

toxic situationship! se-mi x reader - summary: you’re not allowed to be jealous but oh, she definitely is. and she’s about to show you how bad it can get. - content: smut mdni, strap sucking (s! receiving), degrading, face slapping, fingering, toxic toxic se-mi but we know that already! - author's note: HI BABIES!!! i love u yall and ty for the request andddd tysm for reading me another night n another smut!

the ambience was tense.

after the fight last night, you and se-mi weren't exactly on speaking terms. clearly, she kept pretending you were, because the way she kissed you, hugged you, and touched you was the same as always.

she tried to play it cool in front of her friends, make it seem like nothing’s wrong. she ended up drunk, sitting in a circle playing spin the bottle with everyone —knowing damn well that if she got paired with a girl, she'd have to kiss her.

and that she did.

and of course, she's so used to seeing you mad and jealous that she thought it’d be over when it was done. like, c'mon, she knew she messed up big time, but you’d forgive her eventually.

but when she turned? oh. it was nothing like that.

i mean yeah, the jealousy was making your blood boil. but you’d learned your lesson.

se-mi doesn't get mad if you ignore her, or if you spit your entire feelings at her, nah, she couldn’t care less.

wanna know when she gets real angry?

when you're online but don’t answer her texts.

like, who are you texting???

or when you're out with your friends and don't answer her calls.

why the fuck are you so busy? doing what?

so you figured... what better way to give her revenge?

when the guys ended their cheering, their eyes went to you. you quickly erased the angered expression, changing it for a smirk as you slowly approached the circle. your half-smoked cigarette was left on the ashtray as you sat beside se-mi, who was staring at you like you'd grown two heads.

why weren't you going all psycho mode?

"am i allowed to play too?" your voice came out silky, almost provocative, as you stared at her them.

"are you—" se-mi was about to ask, bitting the inside of her cheek as nam-gyu interrupted her

"join us! it’ll be fun!" he said. se-mi stared at him with anger in her eyes. he knew you were hers. why would he insist on you playing a game where you could cheat on her? was he insane?

it doesn't matter if she played it! like, you knew she only loves you, duh.

but if you did it???? now thats another business. because you were always a one-person kind of girl.

so what the fuck???

your hands slowly settled on the bottle, spinning it around. her heart beat like it was trying to escape from her chest.

so, imagine her surprise when the bottle landed on mi-na.

the same girl she had just made out with.

mi-na felt like she'd won the lottery.

"babe, you don't have to do it" se-mi chuckled anxiously, her hand grabbing your thigh and giving it a rough pat —kinda like a stay in your place.

"it's fine. mi-na doesn't mind, right?" you shrugged, staring at the girl as the strawberry blonde nodded with eager. se-mi shifted in her seat, clenching her fists when you stood up to get closer to mi-na.

your hands slowly settled on the girl's backneck, pulling her in to smash your lips together. mi-na tried to follow the rough pace —and i say tried because the way her body was becoming hot with only one kiss, wasn't allowing her.

se-mi's blood seemed to boil. your lips on mi-na, her hands moving all around your body and the kiss turning more—

she couldn't take it anymore, god.

"hey, that's fucking enough, don't you think?" she said, her hands gripping harshly at your waist, pulling you away. you turned around to meet her, only to find dark eyes filled with rage and…

oh.

something more.

you could hear the guys as a distant background noise as she pulled you toward the first room she found in the apartment. her grip was surely gonna leave a bruise. she closed the door behind her and turned to stare at you.

you felt her cold hands pushing you onto the bed, making you sit on the edge as she stood in between your legs. the thrill of seeing her angry made you press your thighs together, looking for some relief.

her eyes drop to watch exactly what you’re doing, making her chuckle dryly. "you're getting off from this? fuck. you love pissing me off, huh?” she licked her lower lip, her pale hands grabbing your thighs, slowly reaching upwards to meet where you needed her the most.

thank god you decided to wear a skirt for easy access.

"so i have to be okay with you kissing her but if i— o-oh my— fuck." you couldn't even finish your sentence because two of her fingers slowly moved your thong aside, teased your entrance and push themselves inside. her palm hit your clit, making your eyes roll back.

"finally you shut the fuck up.” she mumbled as she kept her pace, going in and out of your soaked hole, slowly lifting her stare. her other hand left your thight to give a soft slap to your face, making you whine.

her hand went from your cheek to your hair, grabbing a fistfull of it. she removed her fingers from inside, making you cry out from the loss. she quickly pulled you forward to make you kneal in front of her.

"there's nothing i love more than having you like this" she whispered, caressing your face like she loved you. your doe eyes followed hers.

althought one of her hands was still on your hair, her other went to unzip and lower her pants, leaving her in some grey boxers —wait, was that...

you could feel yourself drooling. the boxers revealed a bulge in between her legs, one you knew very well.

"did you actually brough the—" you asked, staring at her.

"maybe." she snickered as she lowered her boxers, exposing the big black strap that quickly went to rest on your lips.

"open up." she said, tapping two of her fingers on your lips. you opened to let them in, and she quickly followed. you obeyed, licking them for a few seconds before she removed them, replacing them with her cock. fuck, it was big.

your eyes never left hers as you went up and down the silicone toy, and god, it made her feel like she might break into pieces.

you removed it from inside your mouth to wrap your hands around it, giving it a few strokes. your tongue gave a slow lick from the base all the way up to the tip, circling it around the head a few times. her eyes become darker as she caressed your hair away from your face.

her hand went to the back of your head, guiding you to take her cock as deep inside your throat as you could.

this act was making you soak your —already ruined— panties. her eyes were fixed on you, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

god, she was poison—but right now? you wanted nothing more than to please her.

your head bobbed, trying to take her even deeper, making her moan as if she could feel your lips wrapped around it —she swore she could tho.

"c'mon, keep taking it." she said, moving you to her own rhythm and making you gag. "drooling already?" she cooes, a teasing smirk on her lips.

you slowly pulled away, releasing the strap with a 'pop', giving her a stare with half-lidded eyes.

but she wasn't having your teasing tonight.

her hand grips your hair harder, making you whine. the minute you open your mouth to complain, the toy enters back to your mouth and doesn't stop till it reaches the back of your throat. this time, she starts fucking your mouth at her pace. everytime you took all of it, the base hit her clit, making her moan louder and louder.

it made you throb. fuck, you needed her, anything she could give you; her fingers, her cock, her tongue. your cunt clench around nothing at the thought. your panties felt uncomfortable and the fact that she wasn't touching you right now made you ache.

too bad she was focused on the sight in front of her; your lips wrapped around her cock, the mascara tears that ran down your cheeks, the drool that kept falling from the sides of your mouth.

“love this” she heard your small mumble, too cock-drunk to say it louder. “having you in my mouth. love this. w-want you in every hole” you muttered, still with her strap in your mouth, and god, the words had her moaning.

"yeah?" she answered breathless while moving her hips. you can feel yourself choking on her cock, so you tap her thigh, making her pull away for a few minutes so you can breathe again. one of her cold, pale hands takes your face and squeezes your cheeks together, making your lips pout. her eyes scanned your entire face. she seemed like she was making fun of you; probably because she was. i mean, you were a mess. "you know, if i could, i'd cum all over your face.” she whispered, you could feel her lips almost on yours. almost. her words went straight to your clit, making you let out a pornographic moan. such a whore.

her eyes darted from your face to your pressed thighs, half-covered by the mini skirt. oh, you needed to cum so badly, poor thing.

she pulled you up, making you stand up with a hiss of complaint as she had grabbed you from your hair. she guided you to the side of the room, where the desk and study chair sat.

her hands slowly gripped your waist, turning you around, making your back hit her chest. you closed your eyes, moaning at the feeling as her hands pressed you against the desk, making you bend over. your lips let out a small gasp of surprise. she reached the end of your skirt, lifting it and leaving you exposed, revealing your already soaked cunt.

"since you did so good, guess it’s your turn now”she whispered in your ear, softly biting the lobe. she alined her strap to your already dripping pussy, going inside with no warning.

oh. it's gonna be a long night.

[anythinggoesbutme]

A “Quiet” Morning

Nash Hawthorne x Libby Grambs

Warnings: Family fluff, tired parents, mention of pregnancy, mention of morning sickness.

Synopsis: On Mother’s Day, Nash tries his best to let Libby sleep in for once, but with their energetic three-year-old twins, Hannah and Holden, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Word Count: 1,012

The sun had barely cracked the horizon when Nash Hawthorne stepped on a plastic dinosaur.

“Son of a—” he hissed, biting back the curse, balancing on one foot in the hallway outside the twins’ room.

From inside, giggles.

“Daddy say’d a bad word,” came Holden’s proud whisper.

“I heared it!” Hannah chimed in, from where she was definitely not still lying in bed like she was supposed to be.

Nash rubbed his foot and leaned in through the door, grinning despite himself. “Now what’d we say about listenin’ at doors, huh?”

Hannah, in her pink pajamas with the sparkly stars, sat cross-legged on her bed and blinked at him like a confused owl. “We ain’t s’posed to.”

“That’s right,” Nash said, already walking into the room to scoop Holden up like a sack of sugar. The boy shrieked with laughter, arms flailing.

“Daaaaddy, I’m flyin’!”

“Flyin’ straight to the kitchen,” Nash told him, hoisting him over his shoulder while Hannah hopped off her bed and grabbed his free hand. “Today’s a very special day, remember?”

“B’cause it’s Mommy Day!” Holden crowed, upside-down and delighted.

“Mother’s Day,” Nash corrected gently as he plunked the boy onto the kitchen island stool. “And we’re gonna let your mama sleep in while we make her breakfast.”

“What we makin’?” Hannah asked, dragging her little stool over like a tiny determined general.

“Well,” Nash drawled, ruffling her blue hair—just like her mama’s—“I figured y’all could help me stir up some blueberry muffins, then maybe we do eggs and bacon and some of that fancy juice she likes.”

“PINK juice!” both twins shouted in unison.

“Right, pink juice,” Nash said, fishing it out of the fridge. “Pomegranate somethin’ or other. Tastes like cough syrup if you ask me, but don’t tell your mama that.”

“Secret,” Holden whispered, nodding solemnly.

Nash started mixing the batter, handing each twin a tiny whisk and assigning them the all-important task of stirring while he cracked eggs with one hand and kept the other ready to catch any flying bowls.

“Be gentle, not like we’re wranglin’ goats,” he reminded, glancing toward the hall. “Mama’s sleepin’, remember.”

“She sleeps like a dragon,” Hannah whispered knowingly. “Don’t wake the dragon or she’ll breathe fire.”

Nash chuckled, setting the eggs to sizzle in the pan. “Y’all sure do listen to them bedtime stories, huh?”

Truth was, Libby hadn’t slept well in weeks. Not since the nausea hit and stuck like an unwanted houseguest. This baby—still only the size of a grape, according to her tracker app—had already thrown her body into full rebellion. Nash had lost count of how many times she cried in the bathroom at 3 AM or fell asleep sitting straight up in the middle of folding laundry.

That’s why today mattered.

He was gonna give her one damn peaceful morning if it killed him.

They finished the muffins—one-third of the batter ended up in toddler mouths, of course—and Nash let the twins pick out a tray. They loaded it with wobbly scrambled eggs, slightly crispy bacon, pink juice in a wine glass, and one lovingly crumpled flower from the backyard stuck in a jelly jar.

“Ready?” he whispered.

“READY!” came the very loud reply.

Nash winced. “Soft feet. We’re trying to be sneaky’.”

“Like Ninjas!” Holden yelled, earning a loud shush from Hannah.

They tiptoed (or at least attempted to) down the hall, Hannah hummed the “sneaky song” she’d made up on the spot. Nash pushed the bedroom door open quietly, heart lifting when he saw Libby still curled under the quilt, her blue hair spilling across the pillow, lips parted in deep sleep.

Perfect.

He nodded at the twins and gestured for them to climb up on the bed. They did—expect it was directly onto her legs.

Libby jolted upright with a grunt. “What the—ow—!”

“Happy Mommy Day!!” both kids shouted, throwing themselves at her with glee.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” Nash said, coming around the bed and setting the tray down before she got muffin crumbs in her hair.

Libby blinked, dazed and wild-haired, one hand instinctively on her barely-there bump. She looked like she’d been hit by a very cheerful truck.

“I—what time is it?”

“Too early,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes, then smiling slowly as Holden placed the jelly jar flower in her lap. “Oh.”

“It’s breakfast!” Hannah said proudly. “We made it but Daddy didn’t let me crack the eggs, but I did stir.”

“You’re such a good helper,” Libby said, kissing her cheek. “All of you.”

Nash bent down and kissed her forehead, then whispered, “You look real cute when you’re disoriented and overrun by gremlins.”

She snorted.

“You eat,” he said. “We’ll supervise.”

Which meant the twins tried to “help” her eat by poking her food and stealing bites and spilling the pink juice all over the comforter.

Libby didn’t mind.

Eventually, the tray was empty, the kids were sticky, and Libby was leaning into Nash’s side, content and full and tired all over again.

He rubbed her back gently. “You doin’ okay, darlin’?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering shut again. “I love you. And I love them. And I love muffins. And I’m gonna cry for no reason in like five minutes.”

Nash laughed, kissing her temple. “Sounds ‘bout right.”

“Can we get the baby a muffin?” Holden asked suddenly.

Libby opened one eye. “I don’t think Baby Grapefruit can eat muffins yet.”

Hannah frowned. “It’s Baby Grape.”

“No,” Holden insisted, serious. “It’s Grapefruit.”

“Grape!”

“GRAPEFRUIT!”

Nash sighed, chuckling as he slid off the bed to corral them. “Okay, okay—let’s go make another batch and name the baby somethin’ else while we’re at it.”

“Can we name it Pickle?” Hannah asked.

“No!” Libby called from the bed, already laughing through tears.

Nash looked back at her once more—her eyes tired, her smile real, a little life growing inside her while their other two ran wild.

He grinned, utterly and hopelessly in love.

“Muffins and mayhem,” he muttered to himself. “Best Mother’s Day there ever was.”