#tris prior x reader

[allthornsnopetals]

Psychotic Blond (J.Matthews)

:Description: You should have never kissed her.

:A/n: This took up a lot more time than I intended. If you want a part II, inform me and I'll do that.

:TW: not proofread, a bit of animal abuse, mention of rape, slight spice, a bit of obsessive behavior, mention of stalking, the reader is a bi female :)

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You could have taken another route to advanced math, but Natalie, your new-found friend, wanted to use the ladies-room. When she had exited the stall, you both said your fair-wells and continued to class. You sped-walked as quickly as possible.

When you stepped into the room, you didn't expect the teacher to be absent, leaving no one supervising the oddly silent room. You shrugged and looked around until your eyes settled on your group of blue and white friends, who wave and prob's you over, showing that they had reserved a seat for you. You giggle at their antics and take David's hand as he guides you up the steps, to your seat, where you sit and take out your books and stationery.

The room is round like a circle with hundreds of seats and desks with rows of them layered after the other, like a layered cake with a large white-board plastered on the far front wall that also acts a projector. It's a strange site not seeing your teacher hunched over his large desk with his computer, typing away like he always does when he is finished instructing your class on what to do.

"Where is Mr. Flee?" You ask with your chin in your hand, your eyes scanning the room.

"Don't know," says Chloe while pinning her urban hair into a knot with her pencil. "Oh my days, why is Jeanine hard-core staring at us? Is she aware she's painfully obvious?" Chloe points at Jeanine.

Your eyes follow her finger. You make eye contact with the blonde and smile, but she turns back around, shoving her nose into her book. Jeanine Matthews is your father's friend's daughter, who you have been aware of since early childhood, but never really became friends with because you were always studying and she's... well, she was strange.

She sat at the front, so whenever she turned around, it was obvious. Was there something she found interesting? Did something poke her curiosity?

Chloe throws her head back as she bellows a laugh that almost sounds like a hillbilly, causing the room to vibrate and wake a few heads that turn to search for the source. Your eyes widen so largely at how many neck cranes that you feel embarrassed and clap a hand over her loud mouth, shutting her up.

You smile tightly. "Sorry, something must have been funny." You croak, your voice barely audible as your cheeks flush a hideous pink.

Once the attention of the others re-directs to their own business, you pull your hand away and wipe it—onto your dress-skirt— clean of her saliva she pasted onto your palm. You grimace in disgust.

"Yuck, you're gross and—."

"She's staring again." Said Chloe, this time sounding irradiated—all humor; vanished and gone.

You just shrug. "Ignore her. She'll eventually stop." You said while winching as Chloe dug her finger nails into your thigh.

You love Chloe, but sometimes she can be intense, especially when she's jealous. Everyone knew you and Chloe were dating. You didn't know when your relationship started, but she kissed you, and you kissed back— after you came out as bi and found yourself stunned when she kissed you.

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It has been seven weeks since the last time Chloe spoke to you. She's been irritated and even snapping more often whenever someone mentions Jeanine and her creepy staring. She was over it, and apparently over with you. So, yes, she broke things off because she didn't like the idea of someone staring?

Did she feel self-conscious? You laugh at the thought, after all, you were together for almost three years.

Are you drowning in your own sorrow at a party you don't want to be at while sitting on the staircase of David's house with a glass of untouched wine? Yes. Yes, you are.

You sniffle, ignoring the presence sitting beside you. It wasn't until the presence beside you asks a question that you then decided to acknowledge it. You turn your attention to it, and to your surprise, it's Jeanine. She smiles, her lips stained cherry-pink with her hair flowing over her shoulders, her blue—tight—dress modest yet scandalous with the open V front—exposing her plump chest.

You scan her, your eyes eating her up as if you weren't weeping over your ex. You felt a tingle of jealousy.

Hell, she looks better than me, and I took an hour to get ready, you thought.

You forget Jeanine was watching you and round your gaze back to her face, your eyes blowing open at the reminder.

You clear your throat. "Oh, sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said. Could you repeat your question?" You ask, watching her lean forward, her cheeks awake with color— she must have caught you basically checking her out.

"I asked if you were okay?" Jeanine repeats, her breath warm against your ear.

"I'm as okay as it's going to get, hon. I'll be fine... Eventually. Are you okay? You seem a bit lost." You said, now staring at her and her lost gaze.

Is she okay? She seems misplaced.

She sucked her bottom lip in, nodding. She's even closer now. She was shifting closer, her eyes drifting to your open cleavage dress and to your lips. You lose yourself for a second, but turn your head forward just as Jeanine begins leaning in.

But that doesn't stop her.

"Do you feel lonely now? Do you wish to forget about Chloe?" Jeanine whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She takes the glass out of your hand, drawing your attention.

She doesn't drink from it but smiles. Her toothy grin was something, not even Chloe could come close to. Before you could stop yourself, you were grinning at her.

She took the opportunity to quickly lean forward and snatch your lips into her own. Her lips were soft, plump, and warm. So you kissed her.

Yes, you felt lonely, and yes, you did wish to forget about Chloe—so, did you kiss her back to hopefully fill the lingering hole in your chest? Yup, you sure did.

You part, taking your glass back and bringing it to your lips, taking some of the red liquid past your lips. You put the glass down and cup Jeanine's cheeks— she opens her mouth and tilts her head back, accepting the now warm contents as you pour it from your mouth to hers.

You grin proudly as she swallows it. "Good, very good. Now sit still and feel me, if you wish." You straddle her lap and lick a rouge drop from the corner of her lip, already feeling her impatient hands groping your ass.

You bring her lips back to yours, kissing her and suppressing a moan as she slaps your ass before gripping it again. Without a fight, she allows you to slip your tongue in, and once you're in; she's diving around, allowing you to take charge. You suck on her tongue, rewarding you with a pleasured moan, tasting the drink.

Her hands climb up your back and feel the opening of your exposed dress —it was exposed in the front and the back. Frankly, Jeanine was enjoying it. But guilt filled the pit of your stomach, painfully burning. You released a sob and pushed her away, stumbling as you stood.

She stares at you with worry in her eyes, thinking she did something wrong.

You shake your head. "I'm sorry... I-." You sob again, hiccuping now.

Jeanine reaches for you, but you pull away. You choke out another apology and make a quick get-away, snatching yourself drinks and chugging them back on your way out of leaving David's.

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The next morning you're pissed drunk and grateful for the weekend. You roll over, now realizing that you slept with nothing but your bar and panties on. You drink the bottle of water on your nightstand with painkillers and roll back over, falling back to sleep until you hear your alarm go off.

You wake feeling a lot lighter in the head and get ready for the day and walk into the kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Isn't it Tulip. How are you, hon?" You smile at the stranger drinking his coffee, hunched over the kitchen island.

"I'm fine, Mr Matthews." You reply, swiftly passing his attempt to hug and go straight for his coffee.

You take a swig and don't give it back until you have your full. He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, Y/n you know my daughter, right? Jeanine stop staring and say hi." He waves Jeanine over and immediately you feel like dying.

You can't tell if she's mad at you but she should be.

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After an awkward breakfast that was filled with Jeanine's strange staring your father allows you and your blond guest to leave. But what were you supposed to do with her? Play chess, read, push her out of your house and never breathe around her again?

Your father takes notice of your weird behavior and says, "Y/n, why don't you take Jeanine to your quarters and hangout there?" He suggests with an eager grin.

You mirror his smile and take Jeanine's hand, taking her up the main flight of stairs. You turn right, down the corridor that leads to your quarters and pause.

"I'm sorry about last night," You blurt out as you face her, fiddling with your fingers. "It wasn't cool or fair for you or myself. I swear you did nothing wrong, I apologize."

You expected her to be enraged, perhaps even yell at you. But she just smiled. "No, that's okay. But I will admit, I did feel a bit hurt when you left me there..." her grin grows wider and larger as she stalks closer to you.

"But I'm sure you can always make it up to me at some point."

Her face was only inches away from yours now. The slightest move forward could cause a remake of last night— minus the crying and running out.

"At some point." You remind her, sterner than intended and continue your march to your goal location.

Your father said quarters, which it was. You push the round double doors open and reveal a living room. In the front right corner lived a fire place with a glass coffee table with a chess board on top of it, a white leather lounge on the left-wide side and two smaller cushion-leather chairs on its smaller length sides.

In the center lives another glass coffee table but bigger in size with a matching lounge like the one in the right front corner, resting on it: is a fruit bowl and a glass water pitcher with three glasses. On the left far corner is a black piano and a harp that you learned to play as a child and still play as a way to learn and cope.

The wooden floor clinks against the footsteps of you and Jeanine heeled shoes. Her eyes look around the room in pure awe and curiosity. It wasn't just a living room but also a library with large shelves, holding all sorts of books. On both sides are round staircases, built into the shelves that lead to the second and final floor of the library, which also acts as more shelves for books.

On the left side is a large round window that stares over the main library of Erudite that is also used as a source for natural light. Resting at the feet of the window is an alcove; a large nook in the window, sprouting out a plush navy blue sofa, complemented with white wood that copies the walls.

Lastly, on the back wall is another set of round double doors that lead to your room.

All families with parents and partners with a high IQ—a sign of high status and wealth, due to work—homes look this way, with living quarters or chambers unlike typical homes or apartments like most factions or individuals with lower IQ's/status. Jeanine is no stranger to the chambers concept, but the way her eyes devoured the room almost made you think otherwise.

You pour her a glass of water while eyeing her, observing her carefully as if trying to figure out what was lurking behind her icy blue eyes. She was strange you knew that as fact. But you never knew her attraction to other girls, let alone you. Her constant starting should have been a tell-tale sign but when you were both still tiny humans, she did do odd things that also should have been a dead give away for affection.

For example, when you were just learning how to cook, you sliced your finger open. It bled all over your new blue and white dress and you wept as a reaction to the pain. But there was nothing to stop the bleeding; no cloth, no tissue. Nothing. Until there wasn't. Jeanine had popped your finger into her mouth and used the leverage to guide both you and her to your father, who stared wide-eyed and slightly amused at the sight of your finger in Jeanine's mouth, as if it were the only solution.

Ever since, she kept her distance. Only appearing when you need help or comfort like last night.

"Odd, girl." You mutter under your breath while drawing Jeanine's attention with a slight 'ahem'.

"For you." You offer the glass and sit, tucking your long blue skirt under your buttom.

She takes it with a grin and joins you.

"I like your living quarters, especially the roof," she points up at the painted ceiling. It was a clear blue sky with doves and ravens. "It's beautiful." She compliments.

"Thank you, it took me almost a year to finish."

Jeanine stares at you, wide open, revealing her pink tongue and pearly-white teeth. "You painted that masterpiece?" Jeanine shrike, her finger still pointing upwards.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her surprise. Of course she wouldn't know, she has never stepped into your living quarters before.

You nod. "Yes. I used to paint a lot when I was younger, before my tastes changed and I moved onto music." You explain, pointing your index finger to the two instruments in the room.

"You're a true source of talent, Y/n. You're beautiful, intelligent, and a real aesthete." Said Jeanine while taking a short sip of her water before placing it down on a blue coaster, on top of the table.

Your cheeks burned with color, it made your stomach clench and flutter. Jeanine Matthews: a flirt, who would have guessed it. Your lips curl into a smile, hands shaking as you try to drink from your glass. But her words ring your ear like a broken record, making you feel shy and even slightly giddy.

"Are you blushing, Tulip?" She teases, her delicate fingers caressing your hot cheek.

"Do you need glasses, Jenie?" You say with a laugh, gaze shifting to hers. She laughs with you, her head resting on your shoulder.

Through the fits of laughter, she gazes up at you, her eyes speaking all types of 'I love you's'. But of course you don't see it and place your glass on a coaster.

Resting your head on hers, you enjoy the silents, forgetting last night's fuse and the years lost to a possible friendship. You felt it but didn't register her actions. Her lips devour an exposed patch of skin on your neck, kissing gently. It wasn't until you felt her fingers working at the sleeve of your blouse on your shoulder; do you then register her actions.

You ease her hand away with a polite smile. "Would you like to play chess?" You offer but she shakes her head.

She slams her lips to yours in seconds, forgetting her manners of asking for consent. You groan at the force behind the impact and try to lean away but find her hand in your hair, untying the blue ribbon and holding you in place. Her tongue slips past your lips, entering and consuming whatever it can touch.

Before you could even think straight, you kissed her back, meeting her intense desires. You cup her cheeks and relish in her gentle moans as you suck on her tongue, demanding control. You win but it's short lived when she parts for air.

Your hair falls as the fabric loses its hold. She grins, her lips plush. She drops the ribbon to the wooden floor. "First piece of fabric to go. Several more left." She says before latching her lips on the bare part of your neck, kissing and occasionally sucking. But not enough to leave a mark.

She kneads your clothed chest, cupping, groping. You huff and puff, still trying to take in breath into your lungs as you feel her unbuttoning your blouse.

Stop her, she'll get the wrong message; the voice in your head beckons. But you push it back and allow her to open your blouse, exposing your chest and belly, so she can get a better feel of your tits. Your head falls back at the sensation of her mouth on a tender spot on your neck, shutting your eyes. She doesn't stop, especially when you rack your hand through her hair and hold her hand in place with your free hand.

You didn't want her to stop and neither did she, it felt too good. For Jeanine it felt victorious. Years of waiting and she finally gets to feel you, kiss you and indulge in your small whimpers, moans, and small inhales for air.

"Jeanine, we're leaving." Her father calls, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

You shoot your eyes open and Jeanine stops, pulling herself away while you button up your blouse with shaky hands. He was drawing closer and the door was wide open, so time was ticking. Jeanine takes charge and buttons up your blouse before dealing with her disheveled hair as you pick the ribbon.

"Forget about it." She mutters, taking it from you and stuffing it into her pocket before dropping beside you, glass in hand.

You mimic her actions, running your fingers through your hair.

Jeanine's father leans against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze scanning over the room. His eyes glint with what can only be described as; curiosity. "Come, Jenie, we must go home. The Aptitude test is tomorrow. Let's leave the L/n's to mentally prepare." He grins before starting his walk down the corridor.

Jeanine pouts. "Bye, Tulip." She says disappointingly.

"Bye, Jenie. Good luck on your Aptitude test." You say equally disappointed.

Before she leaves though she cups your cheeks and kisses you, fiercely. You part with a trail of saliva, hers icy blue eyes drinking you in.

"See you tomorrow." She says over shoulder as she struts out, chasing after her father.

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You in fact didn't see Jeanine the following day. You did, however see Chloe and she seemed a mess. Everyone, especially yourself did as you recall your result: Candor.

Of course that was what your results were. You were blunt, transparent and far too honest. You didn't care who you were honest with, no one was safe from your silver tongue. You were always genuine with your words, especially when you apologized to Jeanine.

You felt like weeping, crying, sobbing. You'll have to leave home and all its familiarity. A tear drove down your cheek as your body shook. You were in the school cafeteria, everyone can see you, especially your friends who now stare at you as your body shook with tears.

You didn't know who pulled you into their arms but you were grateful and didn't care. You wept into their chest, sniffling in a familiar scent that made your stomach curdle. You look up and find Chloe's hazel eyes, staring at you sympathetically.

You knew she wanted to ask why, but the rules were clear. No one is supposed to share their results. But she comforted you anyways and so did your friends as one by one, they cradled around you, holding you. You may never see them again.

Jeanine sat with a bitter scowl on her face. She was sitting with the students who have yet to be assessed. She watched Chloe ditch her friends to comfort you, pulling you into her arms, making her skin crawl. She truly didn't understand what a deal was.

Chloe screams, her eyes puffy and red from crying. "Please. Please stop!" She cries, trying to fight her restraints.

Jeanine shook her head with a disapproving tsk, tsk. "You know pets are forbidden in Erudite." She said with a wicked grin, batting the small dog.

It whimpers in pain, ears tucked behind its head with his tail mirroring its actions, binding it between its legs. Chloe cries again, her throat dry from sobbing and shouting. "Please, I beg you. I'll do anything. Just please stop harming him."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything. Just, please stop."

Jeanine got what she wanted and Chloe's barely walking dog got to go home. But as Jeanine observes the interaction, she imagines shooting the dog in the head. We had a deal, Miss Brum. Your dog will pay for your failure to stay away. Jeanine thought, clenching her fists until her knuckles were pasty white.

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Life in Candor was not easy at first, especially during your initiation; where you had to spill your guts. But things went on and no one seemed too distraught about your inner thoughts and sexuality, especially your now husband: Jack Kang.

He found you even more fascinating when he heard about your sexuality and how it affected your life in Erudite. What he didn't expect was: "I had a fling with Jeanine Matthews. That's why I don't want to attend the faction representative meeting. I can't face her, not now." You confessed with ease and without the slightest hesitation.

Jack's mouth flaps open. He was more than shocked, perhaps stunned. You, his wife had some sort of fling with the Erudite rep. You're just telling him now?

"Why are you just informing me now?"Jack spits, pointing his finger, visibly angry, losing his placidness.

"You dated my cousin before being with me. Past relationships mean nothing, or do you not remember saying that," You retort, now challenging him.

Of course he remembers. He was being honest with you at the moment, at the time. You were finding it hard to adjust to your new life, especially after the final stage. Everyone knew about your taste for both genders, everyone had their own opinions, even the boy you fancied before Jack, which was not too good.

Past relationships didn't matter. Jack loves you and he wasn't planning on letting you go, so he said what he knew was true; what was on his mind and heart. Nothing about your sexuality was going to chase him away, make him love you any less.

"Or were you just lying to me."

Jack falters, eyes visibly hurt. "No, my love. Not at all," He calms down, sitting beside you on the couch and wraps his arms around you, shielding you.

You rest your head on his chest, allowing him to inhale your scent: tulips. He relaxes. "It's just... Jeanine makes my job harder. I was under the impression that she was challenging me—pushing me. I thought it was a teaching method, not bullying or disrespect. But I should have known. The signs were there and I didn't question them enough." He sucks in breath, calming himself, trying to prevent another roller coaster of anger.

"What does that have to do with me? What are you talking about?" You ask, pulling away, now frustrated.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at you through his fingers. He huffs and slumps forward, elbows resting on his knees. You nudge him.

"Jack." You try to catch his attention, rubbing his back and kissing his shoulder. His muscles fall, he's relaxed.

Before you could ask again he opens his mouth: "It wasn't a fling to her, you maybe. But not her. She's in love with you. You... my wife," He spoke, his tone harsh and irritated.

You froze, stunned and a little guilty. Jack has been stressed out and even hurting because of you. Because you ignored the voice in your head.

Stop her, she'll get the wrong message.

You mentally curse yourself, wrapping yourself in your arms. Now feeling as if it's wrong to touch Jack— the man you loved so much that you said 'I do' and started a family with him.

"Jeanine Matthews has been making my life as the representative of Candor so much harder. She's been bullying me and I didn't even think of it as that." He sounds defeated.

Jack should be yelling, screaming and tearing into you but he doesn't. He just sat there, feeling like a fool.

"Then switch positions with me. It's time that you rest and I fill in the space as the representative." You spoke without thinking.

He stares at you like you were some sort of mad man with two heads. But before he can object, you jump in.

"The reason you took the job was because I was pregnant. It was because I couldn't lead with my mind unclear and unfocused. Let me take the burden off your shoulders, my love." You spoke with ease and care, caressing his cheek with your thumb and kissing his cheek.

God, how you loved this man. His broken eyes tore into you.

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No one was surprised by the switch of leadership. Jack was losing it and your eldest was fifteen with the life of Erudite ahead of him by how much of his dorm was filled with books, instead of people.

So when the announcement was made, you were welcomed with ease. You were the first to be seated, so you fixed your hair up with a black ribbon and drank some tea, waiting for Marcus to stop chatting to a young Amity girl who serves drinks and unfortunately has no will power to tell him to fuck off.

In time the Dauntless leadership rolls in with your own slowly filtering in with them. Sometime later the Amity rep: Johanna and her team walk in with Erudite behind them, chatting and enjoying each other's company.

When everyone is seated, still waiting on Marcus to take his seat at the high court seats with his team, you grow impatient, feeling a familiar set of icy blue eyes staring right at you.

"Stop talking to the poor girl, Marcus. She wants not your attention but to do her job and move on with her life. So, please do us all a favor and take your seat and perhaps start the meeting." You spoke, eyeing Marcus and his red cheeks.

He grumbles and waddles to where he must be stationed. "That's not very Abnegation of him. Wasting our time is selfish, not selfless." One of your members whispers in your ear, rewarding her with a laugh.

She nudges you with her elbow and you nudge her. Kathy, she's your sister-in-law. A real Candor with the most bluntest of tongues and a life of the party. She always made a way to make you laugh or smile during the worst times. You weren't close but knew each other well enough to like one another's company.

She managed to have four kids before ending her marriage with her ex-husband, who used to be a part of Candor's leadership group before the scandal he pulled. What a shame, he was caught five inches deep inside a drunken prostitute. A shame for him but a winning case for Kathy.

The meeting begins and immediately debates break out, mainly from your team who seem to be having the upper hand and winning, while Marcus and his team are stammering. He wanted to reform laws, regarding marriage and age. In other words nuptial law.

He wants to make it possible for children to marry, due to the faction-less situation. The current problem is that the faction-less young girls, under the age of ten—not women, largely—are becoming pregnant at a rate that not even Abnegation can support. The pregnancies are occuring, either through zero education about sex or unfortunately, rape.

But changing the law, itself affects all of society. It would only lead to immoral and unjust marriages to occur between all age groups, perhaps even trapping young boys and girls into situations that would mark them for the rest of their lives. It could even create child slavery and abuse in the marriage; making it immoral, unjust and unlawful.

This is the wrong solution, made by the wrong man.

"What is needed is better education, for these children." Kathy voices, her tone stern and strong, sending you into cardiac arrest.

You admire her and her talent to say 'fuck you and hell no', without actually saying it. Before you could stop yourself, you're admiring her. Your eyes widen, like a cat finding something interesting. Then she is staring at you, your entire team is and you smile.

"What are you grinning at? Continue with your speech and kill this fucker." She whispers harshly, pulling at the ribbon in your hair until it loses its hold. Your hair flows out, in a river meant to shine and get you in the game.

You nod and your team sits, all visibly angry.

"Understand this, Marcus. Law is for every citizen. We cannot change a law to fit your factions ideals. Yes, marriage is necessary for the Abnegation, in order to produce off-springs. But I don't see how marriage is going to fix the problem," You laugh, with your fingers running through your hair.

"These young girls are either mothering children as a result to no education about sex or unfortunate acts of rape. Which is all proven by the Dauntless police force and the Erudite reports. Anyways, how are these fathers, supposed to financially support a marriage when they haven't any money?" The question hangs in the air with no answer.

You stand waiting. But with no answer, you continue.

"Why is this up to debate? Why do you ruffle our black and white feathers? Why, Marcus? Isn't it your faction's, selfless duty to care for those babies?" Once your words were out, it became clear that he had stepped into the wrong battle.

His own government and friends were whispering among themselves. Their 'solution', now proven foul. But you're not finished.

"Abnegation, I speak with no disrespect but only respect. As a woman of the law—once lawyer, then judge and now Faction rep, I speak only the truth. It is a self indulging thing you are all trying to string together, for the Faction-less. It is admirable, what you do for them. But to issue a change in law for young boys and girls to marry, under the age of eighteen to fit your ideals... it's selfish." You finish and take your seat.

The tension is high as the Abnegation whisper to one another and even argue. It seems that not all agree with Marcus and it's showing.

Jeanine couldn't stop her grin, gracing her lips. She hasn't seen you in years, well not without you noticing. She likes the new you and sees how your test could conclude to Candor. She has missed you dearly and does not blame you for your endeavors.

If I just kept you closer, she thought, eyeing you hungrily like a starved animal.

But Jeanine never miscalculates. She is always accurate.

In time, my Tulip. In time

[edgessunflower]

Staying together

Pairing: Tris Prior x Fem reader

Description: You and a girl you meet before your faction ceremony make a promise after choosing Dauntless

A/N: Y/P/N = Your previous name

You felt nervous as you walked with your family for the faction ceremony being the youngest of your siblings and the last one to choose your faction having your siblings in different factions. Your mom was in Amity followed your dad and eldest brother in Abnegation then by your eldest sister in Erudite, and your other sister in Candor leaving plenty of choices for you in factions, you accidentally bump into someone as you walk pulling you from your deep thoughts smiling at the cute red haired girl a few feet from you falling into conversation immediately after introducing yourselves learning her name was Beatrice and that it would be her and her brother's faction ceremony along with yours which eased your nerves as the two of you walk in and sit near each other with your families holding your parent's hands as you watch each person choose their faction, you gently squeeze beatrice's hand while she watched her brother go and choose Erudite before she goes and chooses Dauntless trying to compose yourself as you go up the podium for your turn. You were torn between Amity and Abnegation as you cut your hand feeling tears pore down your face as you move your shaky hand until you felt something pulling you away from both wells to Dauntless slowly looking back at your family after the decision, you wrap your hand before leaving with the rest of the chosen Dauntless looking ahead to see beatrice tapping her shoulder and suddenly hugging each other climbing up the railway posts and running to the train hand in hand being pulled on the train by her learning her name was now Tris just like you had changed your name from Y/P/N to Y/N looking out the view and the sun shining feeling a hand on yours turning to see tris "No matter what happens from this point on, we stick and stay together" you squeeze her hand sealing the promise with a tight hug before you hear yelling and hand in hand with Christina jumped from the train to the rooftop of the building leading to the first half of the day and night in your new faction both of you keeping up the promise from day to night always being seen together wherever one was the other was next to or not far behind whether it was meals, training, the medical room when one was hurt, or the rooms where everyone slept the two of you were glued to the hip in terms of friends and being the only one in each other you each could count on and truly trust.

[zelcii]

love me anyway | peter hayes

peter leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched you from across the pit. you were laughing with the others, your smile wide and effortless, but something about the glint in your eyes always seemed bittersweet. it was as if the laughter was a mask, hiding the truth of your candor-born honesty that seeped through every gesture and expression. you could never quite hide the truth seeping behind the way you smiled, another layer of your candor-born honesty peeking out from under every facade you put on. not that it could be helped. the truth bled from the very way looked, very words you breathed. 

he loved it. how you were basically an intricate scrapbook, pieced together by every person who had ever touched your life, every place you had ever belonged to, and every passion that had ever stirred your heart. you were a patchwork of experiences, raw and honest, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the way you carried all of it so transparently, even when you tried to hide.

he had always been a problem. for many people, but especially for you. you were no stranger to peter hayes, growing eerily familiar to his sharp edges and cruel humor as it had been a constant presence in your life. after all, you were born in the same faction, hung around the same groups of people, followed the same set of rules. even more, your mother had never liked him. since the two of you were young he'd seem to constantly be one second away from breaking whatever—or whoever—it was in front of him. you used to think you hated him for his arrogance. for how cruel he could be, his tendency to belittle the people that cared for him.

but then you chose dauntless. with one swift cut of the ordaining knife, it wasn’t just your tender, naive skin that was cut—it was every tie to the life you once knew. suddenly, peter hayes, the only person you’ve ever despised, became the only constant factor in your life. he was the one unchanging thread that connected you to both your past and present. you tried to forget your life from before, how things were. but it was hard to admit that the only person you could blame was yourself for wanting to leave.

"staring again," christina’s voice sliced through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present. you blinked, reluctantly tearing your gaze away from peter, who was leaning casually against a wall. he was like an island of calm amidst the chaos that spread across the dauntless pit, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable.

"i wasn’t," you insisted, but the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. your candor was a relentless betrayer, with every twitch of your mouth or flicker in your eyes revealing the truth you tried so hard to conceal. christina’s gaze sharpened with amusement, catching the subtle giveaway in your demeanor.

"right. c’mon, candor," she quipped, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm as she nudged you gently with her elbow. "may the truth set you free," she mocked with a smirk, her tone light but knowing. “you’ve got it bad.”

you shook your head, trying to mount a defense. "i don’t," you said, but your protest lacked the firmness you’d hoped for. peter had been the object of your intrigue since you’d met him in summer camp, the boy that used to look at you with such passion. the boy you promised your mother that you’d never even think of talking to. that undeniable truth seeped through the cracks of your words, finding its way into the spaces you desperately tried to guard. still, from across the room, he stared with that familiar passion.

christina’s grin widened, clearly finding amusement in your discomfort. she followed your gaze back to peter, who remained fixed on you with a knowing smirk. it was as if he thrived on every flicker of attention you gave him, the curve of his lips revealing his awareness. he seemed to relish in the fact that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, savoring the way his presence bothered you.

"besides, he’s a total jerk," you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to mask your uncertainty. the effort to convince yourself sounded more like a feeble excuse than a genuine assertion. you fixed your gaze away from peter, forcing yourself to focus on his flaws—his arrogance, the cruel edge in his humor, the narcissism he wielded with such practiced ease. yet, despite your best intentions, all you could think about was his lingering touch and your stolen glances. you failed at every attempt to distance yourself. it was as if he was fully aware of the internal battle you were waging and took a twisted pleasure in it.

you remembered an instance from a few nights ago.

you’d been crying in the communal bathrooms, the cold tiles beneath you doing nothing to ease the burning sensation behind your eyes. it had been a bad day—training had pushed you to your limit, the weight of your decision to leave candor pressed down hard, and the overwhelming newness of dauntless was closing in from all sides.

the tears had come suddenly, without warning, and once they started, you couldn’t stop them. you didn’t want to cry—not here, not in a place where showing weakness was as good as painting a target on your back. but you were alone, or so you thought, and it had been too much to keep inside.

then you heard the door creak open. you immediately wiped your face, hurriedly trying to compose yourself, when you heard his voice.

"didn’t expect to find you here," peter’s voice was low, casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. you assumed it was taunting.

your first instinct was defensiveness. after years of being taught to hate him, after years of believing he was nothing but cruel and self-serving, you bristled at his presence. you had no idea why he was here, and the last thing you needed was to deal with peter hayes right now.

“go away, peter,” you muttered, not even bothering to look up at him. your voice came out more bitter than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. it was habit. you’d spent years convincing yourself that he was the last person you could rely on. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. you expected him to leave—maybe with a sharp remark, something that would sting, something that would remind you exactly who he was and why you should stay far away from him. but he didn’t. instead, you felt him sit down beside you, close enough for his presence to be known but not close enough to make you uncomfortable.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t tease or push. he just sat there, quiet, waiting.

you didn’t want to give in. you didn’t want to let your guard down around him, of all people. but the longer he stayed, the harder it became to keep your defenses up. the weight of the day, the exhaustion, and the relentless pressure of everything finally caught up with you. you couldn’t hold back anymore.

before you even realized what was happening, you leaned against him. your body moved on instinct, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, the sobs breaking free as the tears fell hot and heavy.

to your surprise, peter didn’t pull away. he didn’t make a comment or a joke at your expense. instead, his arm came up, hesitating for just a second before wrapping around you. his grip was firm, and he pulled you in close—just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours. he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pry or ask questions. he just stayed there, silent and steady, letting you cry.

it wasn’t what you expected. peter was supposed to be cruel, detached, distant. but in that moment, none of that mattered. he was just there, holding you together when you felt like everything else was falling apart.

you didn’t know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your body trembling from the release of everything you’d been holding inside. but eventually, the sobs began to subside, and you found yourself breathing a little easier, the storm inside you starting to calm.

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes still red and swollen from crying. “why do you do this?” you asked, your voice small and hoarse from the tears. you genuinely didn’t understand. “why do you… why are you here?”

peter’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw, something unguarded in his gaze. then, with a small, almost playful smirk, he shrugged. “don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “you know i love you.”

the words were so simple, so casually said, that they took you by surprise. but there was no sarcasm in his tone, no bite to his words. he was sincere, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear as if the words were meant to be a secret shared only between the two of you. then, with a sudden rush of either reckless confidence or desperate longing, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss just behind your ear. the tenderness of it sent a shiver down your spine. “let me be here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, though it carried a note of quiet vulnerability. he was trying to convey reassurance, but the raw emotion in his voice felt closer to a quiet, earnest plea. 

christina said that that was when you started staring. 

you’d seen a side of him you never thought to imagine and you craved for more. but he was peter hayes. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. not for you, not for anyone. he tried to convince himself that as well as he savoured the feeling of your soft skin on his lips. yet, there he was, aching for something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. something that made his heart race every time you was near, something that made him want to push you away and pull you closer all at once. your love.

he turned to you then, his hand brushing yours just barely, but it was enough to make his pulse quicken. you locked eyes, and for a second, and suddenly everything else that happened outside of the bathrooms faded away. he could feel your heartbeat in the air between you, the way your breath hitched, the way you wanted him to say something, anything. but he couldn’t. not yet. so he just sat there, his lips twitching into a smirk, masking everything he wasn’t ready to say.

christina’s expression shifted to one of knowing amusement, her eyebrow arching in a way that made it clear she wasn’t buying your story. "yeah, and yet here you are, still thinking about him. denial is just another form of obsession, you know."

"i am not obsessed," you snapped, a little too loudly. you tried to sound more forceful than you felt. but even to your own ears, the argument wore thin. the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, peter had managed to engrave himself into your thoughts, lingering at the edge of your consciousness like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

christina’s hand landed on your shoulder, the gesture both comforting and teasing. her eyes held a mix of sympathy and amusement, as if she could see right through your carefully constructed facade. "sure, keep telling yourself that," she said, her tone light but tinged with a gentle sincerity. "but pretending isn’t the same as believing."

you didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap. christina wasn’t wrong. the tension between you and peter was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to vibrate with an intensity everyone could feel when the two of you were near. 

glancing back at peter, you found him still observing you from across the pit. his gaze cut through the chaotic swirl of faces and noise, landing squarely on you with an intensity that felt almost tangible. it wasn’t just a casual glance; it was as if he was deeply engrossed, his eyes soft and thoughtful, carrying an unmistakable trace of what you dared call admiration. the smirk was gone now, replaced by an expression that seemed to reveal more than he usually let on—a look that made your heart flutter against your will. 

you shifted uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that his gaze was dissecting every fragment of your carefully guarded emotions. in that moment, the air between you felt charged, filled with something unspoken that neither of you were ready to confront. and even as you tried to look away, his eyes seemed to follow, holding a soft, thoughtful reverence that you found both disconcerting and oddly comforting.

you reminded yourself that, no matter how warm you felt under his gaze or how infatuated you were with him, peter was still peter—the same boy who had mocked your family’s dedication to order and laughed at others’ missteps under the guise of “honesty.” his usual sarcasm and cruelty were just parts of his carefully constructed facade, a shield designed to guard against any real vulnerability.

but the way he treated you was different now in dauntless. there was always a softness in his gaze, a subtle consideration that contrasted with his usual demeanor. it made you question if beneath his cold exterior, there was a part of him that genuinely cared, revealing a side of him that was far less indifferent than he let on. it made you wonder if he wasn’t as cold as he wanted everyone to believe.

regardless, you knew you would never, in every sense of the word, let yourself fall for peter hayes. he was supposed to be a horrible person.

… but on one particularly exhausting night, after another grueling day of training, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any solace in sleep. the unfamiliarity of dauntless gnawed at you, and the weight of leaving candor behind seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. not that you’d ever blatantly admit it, but the new environment was overwhelming. despite your best efforts to adapt, the relentless pressure was starting to crack your composure.

in the dead of night, you awoke with a start, your heart pounding and a deep sense of unease settling over you. you stumbled out of bed, the darkness amplifying your anxiety as you wandered through the dimly lit corridors of dauntless. just as the silence seemed to stretch endlessly, a soft knock broke the stillness, echoing against the cold concrete walls. there, at the end of the hall, stood peter. he stood as tall as ever, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle. his hand brushed lightly against the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer, and the warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of the night air. 

though your eyes were still heavy with sleep, you could see the rare softness in his gaze, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. “hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and raspy, but surprisingly soothing. “you okay?”

“just can’t sleep,” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes. you could’ve been meaner, you could’ve tried harder to push him away but you convinced yourself you were too tired to. 

even you knew you were lying. 

without a word, he guided you back to the rooms, his hand resting steady and reassuring on your waist. the warmth of his calloused skin against your arm was comforting, sending a shiver through you. your heart ached to lean more of your weight against him, to feel the full press of his body against yours. each touch felt intensely intimate, grounding you in a way that made your heart race. his calm presence was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal walls of dauntless.

as he guided you back to the room, his touch so comforting and warm, memories from your younger years resurfaced.

you recalled how, even then, there was a strange tenderness in the way he interacted with you, though he never showed the same kindness towards others. peter was always rough with the other kids, his teasing and taunting often crossing the line into childish cruelty. 

your mother had noticed, warning you to stay away from him, claiming he was a bad influence. she saw the way he bullied others and feared that his harshness would rub off on you. so, you had learned to hate him, to see only his rough edges and disregard his rare moments of gentleness. now, feeling his warmth and seeing the softness in his eyes, those old judgments felt shaky and uncertain. It must’ve been a trick—a game he was playing. but in that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, revelling in the way his skin brushed against yours.

as he helped you settle back under the covers, his touch was deliberate and achingly tender, causing a warm flush to spread through you. you wondered how you managed to muster enough hate to stay far enough away from him. the brush of his fingers against your skin, as he tucked the blankets around you, felt both intimate and possessive, sending a shiver of through your body. each contact, from his fingertips grazing your arm to his palm pressing gently on your shoulder, was charged with a longing intensity.

“you need to rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, nearly a whisper. his gaze lingered on you with a softness that was rare for him. before he turned to leave, he gently swept a few stray strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed, sweetheart. we all are.”

you looked up at him, the tenderness of his touch and the care in his eyes sending a rush of warmth through you that made you slightly breathless. his eyes, usually so sharp, were softened by a rare, gentle affection that made your heart flutter. “thanks, peter. you didn’t have to.”

“yeah? well, i did,” he said, a crooked smile playing at his lips, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. he held your hand in his and refused to let go, like he wasn’t ready to leave. you didn't want him to leave. “deal with it.” his voice was smooth, his tone almost too casual, as if the closeness was natural. as if he wasn’t acting completely out of character. his hand remained lingering by your jaw a moment longer than necessary, his touch longing like a secret between you.

you remembered early in high school, when peter had asked you out to the dance and confessed his feelings, saying he loved you. without hesitation, you’d turned him down, following your mother’s wishes. even then, he didn’t seem upset. instead, he simply promised that you’d end up loving him one day.

at the time, you didn't believe him, dismissing his words as just another piece of the game he constantly played. now, as you felt the warmth of his touch and the gentle care he’d shown, you couldn’t ignore the echoes of that past moment. you were falling for him. despite everything, you were falling for him. 

and after all that time, he was right.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tired, and raspy, but caring. it summoned butterflies to your stomach. he said it like you were the only girl in the world. suddenly, you felt like you were in middle school again, getting flustered over a boy. your mother would be so disappointed.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” you said, though your eyes betrayed you as they stayed locked with him. out of a force of habit you continued, “don’t wanna talk to you.” you didn’t mean it, of course.

he let out a tired, amused laugh before bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand. you melted. “i love you anyway.”

threw 3.5k words on a tumblr post and called it a fanfic </3

[lilithslittleworld]

Should be me fr (in the middle because they’re both so hot)

[theblackhate]

MATERIALIST

-Eric Coulter

Knowledge: Prologue, pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11

-Four

[acinematicworld]

divergent series.

[888sss]

Words he never said

Soo I never write, but I was about to go to sleep, and this popped into my head, so I thought I'd write about it. Also, I'm not new to Tumblr, but this is my first ever fic so pls don't judge. (not grammar checked)

1068 Words / 6 minutes estimated reading time

Four (Tobias Eaton) x reader

The last test of my fear simulation was over. I jumped out of the chair I lay on, and blink a few times trying to adjust to the bright light hitting my eyes. The echo of people clapping erupted from all corners of the room, and as I finally took a step and could actually look around, I saw Four standing off to my left. My head turned and he was smiling as he walked over.

He came over and reached out his arms for what I understood to be a hug, so I took a few more steps toward him, but he went around me. He passed me to go hug Tris. I saw as he effortlessly picked her up and spun her around, and when he placed her down he gave her a kiss on her forehead, as she started telling him God knows what.

I love Tris, she's my sister, but of course, she would be the one to replace me, for what only felt like the hundredth time ever. I wasn't mad at Tris though, I was furious as Four. He was the one who told me to keep things private.

"Private, but not secret."

I remember the words he said to me. The words he promised me, while we lay tangled in his sheets, discussing what label we wanted to put on ourselves.

"Four! What the hell?" I aggressively pushed past Tris to get to him.

"Oh no, here comes your shadow." Tris taunted, and I shot a glare at her.

"Y/n, your simulation went better than I expected!" Four said with a sarcastic tone behind it.

"Don't avoid the ques- wait what?" I started to process what he was inferring with his remark. "What do you mean, 'better than you expected'?" I asked as I took a step closer to him, with an insulted look on my face.

"I mean you did better than what I thought you could do, based off of how horrible most of your other abilities are. Not to mention you have possibly the most forgettable personality, and you always complain about 'What if I don't make the cut?', 'What if everyone thinks I want to be like Tris?', 'What if everyone thinks I'm lame?', but what you don't understand, y/n is that we all already think that."

I felt the room get a little smaller, and everyone was so silent you could hear a feather fall. All of a sudden applause burst out from the people in the room, surrounding the three of us, and seemingly agreeing with what Four said.

I stood there, in shock, jaw dropped, waiting for him to say he was just kidding, or for me to just drop dead.

I confided in Four, I trusted in Four, and I would argue I loved him. I told him the 3 things I hated the most.

Public degradation, Being yelled at, and being compared to Tris.

Somehow he had managed to have done all 3 of those things in a matter of seconds.

"Four.. say you don't mean it." I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, and off my chin. I'm not sure when I started crying, but now I was more upset, that he had to have gotten the response he wanted from me. Why else would he say those things.

"Four." My voice was weak, but his stare was strong and cold. He looked me up and down, before turning around.

"Pathetic." He managed to say just loud enough for me to hear, as his back was turned, and he walked away.

I lost him in the crowd in a matter of seconds as I decided I needed to calm down before more people can see that I'm crying. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, and focused on the feeling of the cold air of the room against my tear-stained cheeks.

I opened my eyes, and there I was, back in the chair, in the middle of the normal-sized room.

Again I was blinded by the lights and tried to blink them away. They were brighter than they were the first time. People began clapping again, and before I could even take a step off of the chair I was laid in, Four had reached me and took my hands in his.

"Y/n, I would never betray you like that." He was trying to look me in the eyes, but I avoided his gaze. He lifted one of his hands to make me look at him. When my eyes met his he smiled and I opened my mouth to talk, but he hurried and put a finger over my mouth.

"Y/n, I don't want you to be scared to tell me things, I care for you very much..."

I was getting Deja Vu. Not the kind that's like been there done that, but the kind of Deja Vu, that leaves you with the same empty mysterious feeling of nothing in the pit of your stomach. I remembered when I told Four I loved him, and his response was, "Thank you for loving me", that was enough for me to understand he wasn't ready yet, but now it had been almost a year, and he still couldn't say the words.

"Four I know, it's okay, I don't want to force you to say things you don't mean." I looked at him with a peaceful rage in my eyes, hurt he couldn't say the words, and upset he wasn't as committed to me as I was to him.

He tilted his head to the side with an offended look on his face, "Don't do that y/n, you can't do that. Don't push me away, not now." He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Not now, not ever." He was begging at this point.

"Why? Why not now?" I was confused by his sudden specificity in time.

Four grabbed my hands again, as he leaned in to place his lips on mine. I wanted to resist because I was angry at him, he wasn't committed, he didn't care. But I could hear him reassuring me. He wasn't speaking out loud, but he was speaking to me. He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead on mine, taking a breath.

"Because I love you."

[effystnoem]

I never thought I’d be writing Divergent fan fiction in 2024 but I’m bored and recently rewatched the movies so! Also has anyone noticed there’s a real lack of peter fanfic? Am I the only one who loves an extreme enemies to lovers?

Anyway! If y’all like enemies to lovers, slow burn, and drama for no reason at all then check it out <3

[fandomnerd9602]

Tris Prior x reader (fluff please)?

Tris: what if I don’t fit anywhere?

Y/N: then you’ll always fit in the one place that matters, with me. And I fit perfectly with you.

Tris: what if I get dauntless?

Y/N: then I’ll be cheering you from the sidelines because I’m terrible with heights

Tris: yeah. you’re terrible at parkour but a great cuddle giver.

Y/N: oh really?

Tris: yeah

Tris giggles as Y/N pulls her a kiss…

[allthornsnopetals]

{Hello, everyone I am allthornsnopetals, and welcome to my garden of mentally-ill fanfiction. Here you find a mix of Fandom's I write for. I am a bisexual mess of a woman, and I have no reason to not brain-rot, so here is my garden, enjoy!}

[ Rules ] [ Fandom's/Characters I write/Master lists ] [ Prompt list ] [ Writing tips found on Tumblr ]

[edgessunflower]

Tris Prior Masterlist

Staying together

[rxmye]

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . . 

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

prev. | next

KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[atrwriting]

terrible company — logan howlett x reader

secret time i never used to like wolverine because i thought i was cool and then i saw deadpool 3 and my jaw dropped and i watched most of the x men movies in like three days and now here we are

side note the tiktok edits went absolutely crazy with this scene

back at school needed to write something to keep me sane enjoy

barely edited we die like overworked students men

minors fuck off plz n thnx

as always, warnings: smut smut smuttt, enemies to lovers, fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, light face slapping (trust me!), logan's a dick

—

“what, sweetheart? — afraid you might like it?”

you rolled your eyes at the man before you: logan howlett, the most obnoxious and formidable man you had ever met. his eyes twinkled with mischief, but his smirk hinted at so much more. this was the fifth or sixth time or so that he had flirted with you outright since you had first met him, and you had still found yourself being caught off guard from his honesty and lack of embarrassment.

he was an enigma to you — such terrible company, always brooding over something. then, randomly, he would see you and his eyes would get that look — as if he forgot what made him so miserable — and flirt with you so inappropriately that you didn’t know what to do, nor feel.

you sighed, staring at him. “can always count on you for shock value, can’t it?”

he smirked then, and you rolled your eyes. continuing, you spoke, “i’ll never get you. you are so mean to everyone — besides the people you want to fuck, of course.”

you turned away then, shaking your head. you didn’t hear him follow you. you grew angry after that realization, causing another sharp breath of air to leave your nostrils in a huff. you weren’t sure if you were angry at the fact that he didn’t follow you and immediately apologize even though he would never do that, or if you were just angry at how you were upset he didn’t follow you.

you tried not to think about it. you had work to do.

your next mission would be based out in the north somewhere — cold, dark, barely any service or electricity, and horrific weather. all of that would’ve made anyone groan, but none of that was the worst part.

not even close.

the worst part was that logan was your partner.

it made bile rise in your throat at the thought.

you generally didn’t mind him — he was grumpy, sure, but someone like old yeller would be grumpy after how many years he’s been alive and after what he’s been through. what pissed you off and what you couldn’t forgive — is how he treated different groups of people. he picked on a lot of people, and even if it was just “harmless hazing” — you didn’t care. it wasn’t cool and it definitely wasn’t hot. it was hurtful and you didn’t like it. he made fun of your friends, and that was where the hate began — and there was no end in sight.

but the best part? oh — the fucking cherry on top? his endless flirtation. he flirted with you shamelessly as if he wasn’t ruthless with your friends moments prior. did he think you void of loyalty? did he think you would sleep with him after he roasted your friends just because he threw a few sleazy comments your way? how little respect did he have for you? or, worse — how little respect did he think you had for yourself?

made your fucking blood boil.

that no good, rotten, fucking —

“hey, sweetheart —“

when you were within fifteen feet of him, it felt like all you did was roll your fucking eyes and bite back a quip. all you wanted to do was put him in his fucking place, or stay as far away from him as possible. however, with a mission so important — so dire — you couldn’t ask for a reassignment and make the team succumb to immature whims. you put up with logan because neither you, the team, nor the government had more options or time.

“what, logan?” you spat, pursing your lips as you turned around to face him.

fuck, he was so goddamn handsome. his skin was tanned from constantly being outside, looking perfectly aged. his facial hair and hairstyle were out of the ordinary as well, but it only kept your attention on him longer. he was strong — so strong. his muscles could kill in mere seconds, and you realized you hated yourself for thinking this way. for falling into the trap of a man so annoying — so undeserving of your attraction — your only response was to clench your jaw and fucking glare at him.

he raised his eyebrow at your attitude. “others already took the cars and helicopter. looks like we’re takin’ in my chopper.”

he didn’t wait for you to disagree. in fact, as you were winding up your “aaaabsolutely not” he immediately turned around and left towards the front — where his motorcycle was parked outside.

you stared at him as he walked towards the bike — broad shoulders clad in the leather jacket he always wore. his legs, even covered in jeans, were so trim and muscular that you could see the power behind each stride. when he swung one leg over the seat, and two hands gripped the handle bars — you would’ve said he was attractive if it wasn’t for how horrendous he was. you would’ve bit your hand at how broad his shoulders were and the strength behind them. you should’ve torn your gaze away from him — because at that moment, the moment where you were contemplating your attraction towards him and how it worked with your hatred for him — he caught you staring.

he caught you staring — and the fucking bastard smirked.

you cursed then, and then started towards his bike. like he once did, you swung your leg over and wrapped your arms around his midsection.

“hold on tight, sweetheart,” he spoke, the vibrations of his deep voice felt against your chest. “can’t say i’d let anything bad happen to you, though.”

“just drive, logan,” you spat through gritted teeth.

he chuckled darkly then, revving his engine. “yes ma’am.”

with his back to you, unable to see his reaction — it was the one moment, the one fucking time that you didn’t roll your eyes at him. your reaction to his words — yes ma’am — was raw and surprising, unsettling almost. you shifted in your seat and adjusted your grip on him as a warmth settled in your stomach, and on the apples of your cheeks. your breaths turned shallow, too, as your whole body succumbed to the blush that overtook.

no, you thought. you think he’s hot. that’s fine. assholes can be hot — we just can’t act on how hot they are. that’s fine. it’s fine. everything is fine —

but the way he smelled? oh god, the way he fucking smelled? logan was what bath and body works modeled those mahogany or whisky or leather or whatever-the-fuck candles after. part of you wanted to curse him out, making up something to be mad at him for — but the other parts wanted to wrap your arms around him tighter and stick your nose in the back of his neck like a depraved lunatic.

but you couldn’t. you wouldn’t let yourself. you sat up straighter then — trying to put as much space as possible between you and him on a vehicle that was not meant for a rivalry between driver and passenger.

you were disgusted with yourself. so, so disgusted with yourself.

fuck, you thought. this is going to be a long night.

when you reached camp, you immediately began setting up. you set up shelter and got your supplies in order, and logan went out looking for food. that was logan’s one quality that not even you could take away from him — he was an excellent hunter. you tried to busy yourself as best as you could — setting up the tent, starting the fire, the works. the sun would almost be down before logan came back.

when you heard his footsteps, your head immediately flicked up towards him. there he was — dinner thrown over his shoulder, clad in a white tank top, and cigar in his mouth. a cloud of smoke followed behind him as he walked towards where you had set up camp.

“showing off?” you cast your gaze down, putting another log on the fire.

“…is it working?”

you couldn’t help it. you let out a small laugh.

fuck.

you cleared your throat immediately, hoping he didn’t hear it. unfortunately, there was no use in that. fear struck you when you saw the tiniest smirk on his face. you brushed it off, leaving him to go get a sweatshirt as he dressed and cleaned the animal.

“scared of a little blood, sweetheart?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comment. “it’s an animal, logan. not our enemy.”

“…fuckin’ vegans.”

“okay, old yeller —“ you quipped, poking at the fire. “you don’t feel a drop of sadness when you go after bambi?”

“it’s meat,” that was all he said on the subject, and you didn’t feel like poking the bear.

you ate in silence and went to bed in silence. actually — you went to bed. logan stayed out by the fire until you retreated to your tent. you left him with a bottle of jameson on his right, and a cigar in his left hand. his eyes were trained on the fire.

you didn’t like the look on his face. it was either an expression of zoning out, sadness, or a mixture of both — you couldn’t be sure. any time someone had asked logan what was on his mind, it was usually met with some rude or mean insult from logan. old yeller didn’t like feelings, and that worked out well for you — because you didn’t want to hear about his feelings.

you thought he would stay out all night if he could, never sleeping. however, he did end up going to bed — but you only knew that because he woke up screaming from a nightmare.

him yelling was extremely inconvenient and frankly dangerous — it could blow your cover. in your exhausted state, you sprung up and out of your tent and dashed over to where logan was curled on the ground. he was thrashing at the air — knocking over his bottle of whisky and kicking at the fire.

“logan!” you hissed, trying to force yourself out of your discombobulated state. the thrashing continued, and in a moment of desperation — you got on top of him.

straddled him, to be more exact.

in a moment, his eyes snapped open. your back was on the ground and he was above you — one of his claws at your jugular. logan’s instincts woke up before he did as he laid on top of you and over you, breathing heavily as he kept his blade drawn at your neck with his eyes blown wide.

“you were having a nightmare,” you choked out. “you’re okay —“

he was still staring at you and breathing heavily. it was like he was in a trance — unaware of how to navigate the feeling of peace and a fight or flight response. his pupils, blown wide, showed no sign of calming down.

you reached both hands to grasp at his cheeks, feeling the tickle of his beard on your palms. “you’re safe — it’s alright.”

he dropped his head then — on your collarbone. it hung in shame, guilt, and exhaustion. the unholy trinity that followed logan howlett around for his entire life. one of your hands slid to the back of his neck, cupping the base of his head as his thumb stroked his skin.

“i’m sorry,” was all he said, head still in the crook of your neck.

“you’re good — i get them, too.”

“i’m not looking for a pity party, alright?” he snapped, pushing himself up.

that was it. the final straw.

you reached forward them, yanking him by the shirt so you were nose to nose — tongue on fire, throat hoarse with anger and tight with sadness. “you’re such an ass, you know that? all you do is insult my friends, expect me to sleep with you, and then the moment — the one fucking moment — you show any sign of humanity, i extend a fucking olive branch, and you snap at me? — the fuck is your problem, logan?”

he raised his brows then, almost in a beckoning fashion. “you think i need a shoulder to cry on, huh, sweetheart? — that’s the thing with you young people, why your friends annoy me so much — there’s no fucking time to spend whining when there’s a fucking job to do.”

“jealous, logan?” you spat, still gripping his shirt. “can’t stand the fact that i would rather console the people you insult rather than let you fuck me?”

“what you do in your spare time is yours, sweetheart —“ he scoffed. “if you want to spend it with people who don’t respect you, fine by me.”

“don’t respect me?!” you spat. your face was red and hot now, burning with rage. every word that left your mouth was coated in venom hoping to strike him like his words struck you. “you’d fuck me, leave, and then probably treat me with as much disdain as you treat everyone else — how the fuck is that better?!”

oh — you shouldn’t have.

you really, really shouldn’t have.

you felt the regret as soon the word “better” left your mouth — only a moment before you saw something switch in logan’s eyes. the switch was followed by a twitch in his jaw, the movement he makes before he basically uses someone’s spine as a tooth pick. you knew he wouldn’t hurt you — he couldn’t, he wouldn’t — but damn, the realization of how much weight your statement held in his chest concerned you.

you watched his nose crinkle in anger.

he let out a frustrated, slow breath.

another.

and another.

and then another. he was still on top of you then — staring down his nose at you. you were cocky, cocking your chin up at him — trying to feign looking him in the eyes despite your lack of height. you didn’t want to be a sexual object, there for his free use. you didn’t want to be something he could discard, worthless. you didn’t want logan to give you the same treatment he gave your friends — because that would mean you were no longer worth anything to him.

you braced yourself for his words — what you always thought would come, sooner or later. the end of flirting, and the beginning of rejection and hatred.

“that’s it, huh?” he spoke low then, fighting back anger. “the princess thought i’d leave?” his lips were barely touching yours then, threatening the barrier and final boundary of air between you two. your chest was rising and falling with every word, unable to keep your cool. he continued, “maybe i should — since now you sound like your friends — bunch of fucking whiners.”

you slammed at his chest then, trying to push him off for his hurtful words. he didn’t budge — he was the fucking wolverine, what could you do that would get him to actually move?

“the problem is, doll —“ he took both of your hands and pressed them down next to your head. “i know you’re not like them — and i like you too much to leave.”

you scoffed, gritting your teeth. “stop fucking —“

he let go of one of your wrists and grabbed your chin in his strong hand, silencing you. he stared down at you then, and no words had the chance to leave your lips. anger sent daggers from your eyes to his, but something swirled within his irises. something worse than anger — darker. stronger. harder.

“are you going to stop fucking whining and let me kiss you?” he spat. “or are you going to crawl away with your tail between your legs and be forced to use that stashed vibrator you keep in your bag?”

you sucked in a sharp breath then — eyes going wide as your lips fell open in surprise. he smirked then, obviously pleased. your chest was still rising and falling, but now it was with shallow breaths as something else filled your lungs and abdomen.

heat. pure heat. warmth spread throughout your ribs, abdomen, and core once you absorbed logan’s words. he was so mean — so fucking rude and mean — but his “no bullshit” attitude forced you to keep out of your own way in a way you didn’t want to admit you liked. you were still then — and all you could do was stare up at logan with your big, dark eyes as a smirk crept onto his face.

“that’s it, baby,” was all he whispered before he kissed you.

the hand that once held your face slid around the back of your head, holding the base of your skull up and out for him. he planted his spread knees in between your thighs, cementing himself in place as his other arm held himself up.

logan kissed you with demand in every movement. his lips lead you in a fashion that so passionate and so dominant that your brain and body were fucking putty — his to mold in his hands as he deemed fit. you should’ve been disgusted, tormented by the fact that he would do such a thing — but you couldn’t keep up the act any longer. having logan so close, so warm — it was the ultimate act of comfort.

men had kissed you before — but no man from before could kiss you like this. this. no man had the power to claim you in the open, dangerous air while on top of you and still making you feel so safe and protected. you didn’t feel the need to go out of your way to show dominance — and it felt so fucking good to turn your brain off, even for just a moment.

and logan? fuck — logan? he had wanted nothing more for months than to be exactly where he was now; on top of you, tongue exploring the mouth that loved to insult him. he knew how on edge you were, how you were always caring about everyone but yourself — he just wanted to see what you were like when you could only think about one thing, and one thing only: your own pleasure.

it started with his fingers tightening on the back of your neck ever so slightly. your throat let out a quiet sort of mewl — like he had squeezed the last shred of focus out of you. he wanted you out of focus — not necessarily under his control, he just wanted you to lose control. crying, screaming, taking out your anger on him for all he cared — but he just wanted to be the one that made you forget about everything for a little while.

…so when he felt your hands running up and down the length of his upper body, curious as to the muscles of his shoulders — he knew what to do. he couldn’t help himself, should’ve asked —

he lowered his lower body down and ground against your clothed core.

instinctively, your legs tried to wrap around his — trying to bring him closer. you were struggling, it was so cute to him. he thought about how mean it would be to tease you, even if it was for a little bit — but would quick fun honedtly help you? the stick up your ass would probably never leave, he thought — he had to do this right.

and when he did it again — the smallest whine built in the back of your throat, sending vibrations throughout your body and senses. logan’s hyper sensitive hearing sent shivers — actual shivers — up and down his spine, and right to his cock as his strained against his zipper.

he felt you clam up then, tighten — insecure. he could sense it. smell it.

“don’t you dare —“ he breathed, demanding another kiss from you. he would swallow you whole if given the choice. “those whines you make? those sweet, little noises? — they’re mine, doll. mine. you don’t get to take what’s mine, do you?”

“no —“ you whimpered, shakily. “but — i — i thought —“

he let your neck go, much to your dismay, but that empty feeling was replaced by his large, flat palm pressing against your clothes core. you jumped for a moment, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you peered up at him through your lashes.

“thinkin’ i hate whiners?” he laughed, biting on the skin of your neck as he kept palming you. “not when they sound as pretty as you, doll. ‘m so hard for you — gotta know you want this as much as me.”

you almost let out a struggled gasp then, close to tears. he was so mean. the stress and pain of waiting could be felt all over. he was being so sweet — so generous with his touches — but you wanted more. needed more.

“wan’ it so bad, logan,” you gasped, almost hiccuping. “don’t fuck with me anymore, please — no more games.”

you felt his hand slide your zipper down its track, smirking. “no more games means you’re mine, doll. i don’t fucking share.”

you watched as his large hand — calloused from years of war, labor, and pain — found its way under your pretty, lacy thong. he wanted to rip it off you, free you from the tight clothing — but he needed you now. you needed him now, and he wouldn’t deny you any longer.

you were soaking wet when you felt two fingers slip in between your folds, sending a sharp breath to be sucked in between your lips. logan watched in awe as the flames of the fire caught the glistening wetness on his fingers, illuminating the reflection for both of you to see and witness.

it was obvious to him now — you wanted him so badly, for longer than you had ever let on.

he should’ve been slow, loving, maybe even tender — but that wasn’t him. never was, and never would be. your grip tightened on his as he slipped two fingers inside your pussy, sucking him in desperation.

you immediately tried to bite back a squeal when you felt his fingers finally slide all the way inside you, leaving no space undiscovered. the pads of his fingers were nudging at the roof of your pussy as the meat of his fleshy palm rubbed against your lonely clit — pink, puffy, and pathetic. so desperate. you were biting your lip now, screwing your eyes shut — trying to fight the urge to scream his name.

“oh, i don’t think so, doll,” he grunted. “look at me.”

you tried to look at him. you really did. when you couldn’t manage it, your eyes blurry — you couldn’t believe it: he lightly smacked your jaw.

it should’ve sent you reeling, absolutely fuming — but it only caught your attention. he was glaring down at you, fuming, with a pink hue on his cheeks. “what did i say, huh?”

you couldn’t respond. he had halted his movement, leaving you to buck into his hands.

“those moans are mine,” he spat. “you’re goin’ to be loud, and you’re goin’ to let me know exactly how it feels, alright?”

“okay,” you whimpered. “please just —“

“fucking christ —“ he spat exasperatedly. his movements were rougher now, more than ever — sending you closer and closer to the edge. “your wound so tight, you know that? so fucking concerned and always thinking — you’re goin’ to let go for me, doll, and i’m not taking my eyes off this pussy until it sings for me.”

“fuck, logan —“ you threw your head back, screwing your eyes shut.

“you wanna close your eyes, baby, huh?” he grunted with cockiness in his voice. “too much for you?” his voice was low and guttural, turning you on more and more. “need to see what it’s like when you break for me, baby. — lose it for me, yeah? come on — that’s it — that’s a girl —“

every muscle in your body was tightening with every word. you were straining against him — wanting to pull him close and push him far away at the same exact time. you wanted your orgasm, he wanted your orgasm — and you both fought the other for it. you were grinding your hips up to meet his hand — and he was pushing you back down to the ground so you’d sit-the-fuck-still and take whatever he gave you.

logan hovered over you, knees still planted between your thighs. he still worked at your pussy, still forcing it to consume everything he had to offer. his free hand grabbed at the hair at the top of your head, pulling it back so you were at his complete and total mercy, gasping and whimpering for him — and only him.

“yeah, baby — get lost in it. show daddy how much you needed this.”

you couldn’t take it anymore. you couldn’t. you just couldn’t. the relentless need to stay strong, to keep your cool, always remain calm — gone. all of it — gone. shockwaves went up and down your body, every muscle now taught. your neck stretched back and your back arched up into logan’s chest as your orgasm ran up, down, and through every vein. your throat was dry and cracked — as were any and all coherent words that left your mouth. gasps, cries, whimpers — they all went straight to logan’s cock the minute he smelled the sweet and tangy scent of your juice flowing onto his hands and palm. he wanted to lick you up and down, swallow you whole — but logan wasn’t a patient man, no — never.

and there he was. smirking, above you — not even slightly tired.

he kept up his torture — hand still working at your pussy.

“that’s it, baby — ride out that high,” he grunted in your ear, biting at your shoulder. “nice and easy. come down for me, sweetheart — daddy’s not done with you yet.”

you fell back against the dirt, gasping — wondering where the fuck you were and how logan got you there. everything about you — blurry. your eyesight, your hearing, your sense of smell — all of it: blurry. numb and tingling. you could feel everything and nothing all at once, all while trying to catch your breath.

the only thing you could do, the only thing — was reach for logan’s belt buckle, whining for more.

he smirked down at you then once more, taking his cock our for you to wrap your small, weak hand against its girthy base. you were still reeling from the orgasm, but he didn’t mind.

“greedy girl.” he kissed you, mouth hot and demanding. “pussy feels empty without me, huh? gotta change that.”

he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, your muscles stretching and conforming to his will. you pulled him close to you, whining into his kiss. he swallowed every feverish moan with everything he had, his mind now also buzzing with pleasure.

“bet your pussy feels so warm and wet —“ he breathed. “gonna let me use you, baby? hmm?”

you shook your head feverishly, tears coming to your eyes. “please, logan — please use me.”

that’s all he needed. he slid his long length inside you, and he felt every stretch. your pussy was so sweet — ready to mold to whatever he gave you. he heard your head fall back in pleasure, a loan erupting from your chest — but logan couldn’t care about that right now. all he could focus on was how your pussy opened wide for him, sucking him in like if needed him as much as he needed you. he felt himself grow longer and thicker inside of you, almost painfully.

“jesus fucking christ —“ he hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and shoving his face into the crook of your neck. his guttural, deep moans were sent straight through your ear and down every nerve in your body. he grunted, “gonna let me take what i need, baby? let daddy use you?”

“yes, please —“ you cried. “need it so bad.”

he bent your leg back to your chest now, and suddenly the head of his cock was hitting a spot you had never felt before. so deep, so hidden — hot tears sprung to your eyes when he found it. every part of you was sensitive, buzzing for his touch — and all you could think about how there was more and more to give to him, only his to take.

“right there —!” you sobbed.

“that’s your spot, huh?” he spat through gritted teeth. “no boy has found that, i can tell. i can fucking smell it. you want me to pound into you there, baby? gonna let a real man show you how he fucks his girl?”

you were sobbing at this point, pulling him closer and closer into you if there was any space. you couldn’t respond. you didn’t have the strength or the brain to do so. all you could do was bite down on logan’s shoulder as he fucked into that spot — that one fucking spot — as he let out animalistic groans in your ear.

“all mine.”

“my fucking pussy —“

“good fucking girl —“

“gonna cream in this pussy until you can’t take it.”

your second orgasm ripped through you then as tears leaked from your eyes. your teeth broke logan’s skin, blood flooding your mouth as he moaned. the pain coursed through him with the pleasure, mixing within his veins until everything else and around him was forgotten. the only thing that mattered was the greedy pussy sucking him in, and the sweet girl beneath him.

logan was a fucking animal with how he chased your high. he ripped and clawed at the dirt as he drank in your second orgasm, feeling you go limp beneath him. the adrenaline coursing through his veins had a mind of its own — he wrapped your arms around his neck as he took your hips in both of his hands. he held you both upright then — smashing your hips down to meet his as you hung on for dear life. deep, broken grunts were pushed through his gritted teeth as he fought tooth and nail for his orgasm. he dove head first into it, letting you both fall to the ground.

you felt logan’s body shake — fucking shake. you had never known him to succumb to something so peaceful and powerful — so demanding of him. his muscles strained against the control like they were chains and he needed to break free. he groaned into the crook of your neck and tresses of your hair as he fucked himself into your puffy pussy, your cries mixing with his groans. logan’s thrust were desperate as he fucked his cream inside you, part of it coming out and leaking onto his cock as it mixed with your juice. the sight of it ripped through him as the want to claim you again and again took him too. he found your lips once more, both of you gasping into a kiss as you both settled back into the dirt.

it was going to be a long, long night...

[winnie1emon]

✧.* what happens if you see your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott, at a halloween party?

ex!bf!theo x fawn!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.7k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, tit sucking/fondling, oral sex (f receiving), praise, rekindling

a/n: last minute, sleep deprived, and not proof-read halloween treat ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

You stirred awake as you heard your dorm room's door click shut and saw a glimpse of your roommate's hair disappearing from view. She was undoubtedly headed to the infamous yearly Halloween party in the Room of Requirement.

You had previously declined her offer to go with her, deciding to spend most of your time moping over your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott.

Two weeks prior you had your heart broken when you called things off with him. Your peers had convinced you it was the right thing to do at the time as he never paid you any attention, seemingly avoiding you constantly for no good reason, sometimes days at a time. Although you initiated the separation, you wasted no time in mourning the early stages of your relationship; the moments where you would be alone with him, talking to him, kissing him, and the times you guys almost said you loved each other.

You fluffed up your pillows, preparing yourself to lay down and think of Theodore until you slept like you had been doing for the past week when you heard more shuffling outside your dorm room. It seemed like everybody would be attending the Halloween party.

Dreading the idea that he'd probably be wooing someone new, you sat back up and groaned, forcing yourself up onto your feet and into your bathroom. You stared back at yourself in the mirror; puffy-eyed and your nose tinged pink. You felt the sudden urge to go, feeling your time would be better spent seeing a few familiar faces and dancing out your blues.

You had a small problem though.

You vaguely recalled seeing the bustling students leave wearing costumes, but given the spontaneous nature of your new feelings, you had nothing to wear. You tentatively looked around your bathroom and then at your full dorm, hoping for a costume to spawn from thin air. Biting your lip, your eyes landed on a headband of fuzzy deer ears and short plush antlers.

Theodore had bought you the headband in Hogsmeade during your first date as a way to poke fun at your meek demeanor. You contemplated wearing the headband, allowing yourself a quick Halloween if you simply did the makeup. Against your better judgment, you put it on before propping yourself in front of your vanity to do the deer makeup you so saw often on your Pinterest feed. Luckily, your closet consisted of many warm browns with white accents, granting you the ability to not have to freak over finding matching clothing.

You took a final breath before walking out the door, headed towards an evening of branching out.

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

Theodore's gaze lingered around the room, his face stoic, as he seemingly tried to look for someone.

"Someone missing his girl?" Draco teased, pinching his cheek.

Shoving him lightly with his shoulder, Theodore turned his face towards his pestering friend. "Don't smudge m'fucking makeup." He groaned inwardly as he saw no sign of you after his eyes finished their fourth round around the room. "I'm not looking for anyone either. Don't got a girl."

"Ohh yeah, we forgot," Lorenzo snorted beside him. Theodore seemed unamused, brushing past him and bumping his shoulder on the way.

"Seems angry," Blaise said, stifling a laugh.

"Would be too if I lost what he did," Draco shrugged.

Theodore Nott stalked around the perimeter of the large crowd, avoiding the large wings and costumes present. He took a swig out of his red solo cup, about to give up before seeing you walk in.

Seeing your face illuminated in the party's dim lighting, his lips parted slightly, soaking in the way you looked so graceful when entering, yet so lost.

Your headband piqued his interest. His brows furrowing, he tilted his head slightly to get a better view. Definitely his.

You walked around the room, the heel of your shoes clicking. You caught a glimpse of someone with their face completely obscured by their skeleton makeup, but there was no mistaking those eyes.

No way were you going to purposefully talk to him, the sting of your breakup still apparent. You headed towards the drinks, acting as if you were in your element when truth be told, you didn't care for drinking. You stood awkwardly at the table, looking for your friends to no avail.

You saw him striding towards you in the corner of your eyes and quickly scattered to an area with a larger crowd. Planning to circle back to the drinks table to throw him off, you weaved through the people, getting small peeks at different costumes; an American cowboy, a devil, and a very strange furry octopus.

You grabbed a red cup from the table, bringing the emptiness to your lips to fake a sip, your eyes scanning the room intensely, relieved that you lost him.

Your heart was beating faster than usual, a small bead of sweat forming on your forehead. You adjusted the headband to not fall off and straightened your top.

Coming was a mistake. The dark lighting made it difficult for you to locate your friends, Theodore was looking as handsome normal as ever, and the room seemed to shrink with each step you took.

A bit jumpy from nervousness, you started to fill a cup of oddly green punch before feeling a large hand clamp down on your wrist. Flinching, you immediately looked at the one responsible and met their piercing blue eyes.

"Avoiding me?" he said.

The way he said it like he didn't really care, only bothering to use two words like you both hadn't been pretending not to stare at each other for two weeks made you uneasy.

Pulling your hand away, you swallowed before answering. "No."

Your voice made him smile, his face clearly finding humor in your denial.

God, he looked so handsome with the skull makeup.

He placed his hands on both of your shoulders, pulling slightly away from you to get a better view of your face. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"

Unconvinced by him, you looked at him suspiciously, your body taut. "No," you said again. Frowning slightly, he dropped his hands to his side and said,

"I'm serious. I really did."

Your face started to heat up and you bit the inside of your cheeks to contain yourself. You knew that if you didn't restrain yourself, you would immediately jump up into his arms and embrace him like old times.

"Okay," you said quietly. "That's cool." You tried to sound casual, pretending like you didn't notice his gaze flickering to your deer ears and antlers.

"I like the uh, the makeup," he complimented you, gesturing towards his own face.

"Same to you. Skull-- very nice." You nodded slowly, unsure of the conversation's direction.

"Thanks. That mine?" he asked you, pointing at your headband.

Turning pink, you gave a small chuckle. "Uh yeah, just you know--" you said dismissively. "No costume..."

"Ah, I see I see. So, you here with someone?"

"No, no I'm not." You felt a bit surprised by his question, it seemed somewhat bold in a way. You both stood around some more, staring at each other and then looking away only to subtly shift your arms together.

"Alright well, I'm gonna ask you again," he suddenly spoke up. "Did you miss me?"

You didn't want to answer him truthfully, yet you didn't want to just lie to him.

"I did."

It seemed as though those two words were all he needed to hear to do what he did next. Immediately moving his hands to your face, he leaned into a kiss, wasting no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It was far more different than the kisses you guys shared before, this time it felt like your mouths were on fire and the other person's was water; the only way to extinguish it. Your hands were still at your side, allowing him to do most of the work.

Pulling away, you swallowed thickly, trying to process what had just happened. He gave a small, amused huff before dropping his head down to face the ground as you stood there dazed.

"I don't think we should..." you started, trying to find the words. "Like just not here right...?"

Theodore looked at the lively party and nodded as he looked back at you. "You're right. Let's find someplace else."

He grabbed your hand lightly, walking you out the door, and leaving the party. You weren't sure why, but you let him, trailing behind him, trying to keep your steps light in the corridors.

"Come on, there's this classroom-- always unlocked," he smiled at you. "Bit far though," he added. You didn't mind. The anticipation and excitement of getting back with Theodore fogged your mind, shooting out every other piece of information that ever resided in your brain.

He brought you to the stairs and you started to descend, but your heels echoed loudly. "Careful, it's past curfew," he said, bringing a finger to his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry!" you whispered. "I can't it's my shoes."

Theodore stopped mid-step and so did you. His head darted around in all directions looking to see if someone was approaching. "Up you go," he said. Before you could possibly protest, he picked you up off the ground, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. He placed one of his hands around your back to support you, the other on your ass.

Despite the extra weight, he seemed to have no problem walking at his normal speed, quickly going down the many flights of stairs until you both reached the ground floor. He opened the door to a classroom, shutting it behind you guys before placing you to sit on the teacher's desk in the front of the room. You observed the classroom, your mouth slowly growing wider.

"Theo-- this is McGonagall's room! She's going to fucking kill us!"

He shook his head to reassure you. "She's not going to find out, don't worry."

You looked uncertain and he said nothing, trying to give you some time to believe him.

"Theo?" you piped up.

"Mm?" he answered, leaning on his hand placed on the table you sat on.

"Why did we break up?" you asked him.

He had a smirk on his face, but you could tell he felt as bad as you did. "What do you mean? You broke up with me."

"No I mean, why did we break up? Why did you start acting like that?" You drew invisible circles on the desk, adverting eye contact.

"I was an idiot," he scoffed. "I just- I just got scared. Always felt bad you were too good for me," he said, starting to get agitated with himself. "You're so sweet you know. I'm," he shrugged. He cupped your face with his hands, making you look at him.

"Didn't wanna drag you down with me."

You opened your mouth again to argue, but he brought his finger to your lips before leaning back in for another kiss. You felt his hands all over your body and you brought yours to his jawline. The kisses started soft, clean. But they became sloppy as he went down to kiss your neck.

"I'll be different now," he breathed out. "I promise."

His kisses grew more intense and you couldn't help but let out low whimpers as he reached the top of your chest. He took your shirt off, taking a step back to admire the view of you in your lacy white bra. He unclasped your bra, hanging it on the handle of McGonagall's closet next to her desk.

Never having gotten this far in your previous relationship, he gave a low gasp, cupping one of your tits in his large hands. Fondling you lightly, he then pinched a nipple between his fingers, suppressing his laughter as he watched you squirm on the desk. He bent over slightly taking the other nipple in his mouth.

Having his hand on your tit, combined with him gently sucking the other, you gave out quiet moans, clawing at the edge of McGonagall's desk. Pulling his head away, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to your nipple, he stood back up, bringing his hands to your waist.

He pulled your skirt down your thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. He kneeled down on the ground, shuffling closer to you.

The sight of his face between your legs, his face with the skeleton makeup on, practically had you shaking in excitement. He kept his eyes on you the whole time; as he moved the underwear sticking to your wet cunt aside, lightly trailed a finger over your wet folds, and as he moved his head closer, slipping his hot tongue into you.

"Mmm, T-theo..." you whined as he brought his tongue deeper inside of you. He flicked his tongue around, exploring freely, the sounds coming out sounding far more erotic than what you were used to.

His tongue slipped out of your cunt, and he used it to circle around your clit, eliciting shaky moans from your mouth as you bought your hands to his hair. Your eyes began to water and you felt your orgasm nearing. About to crush his skull with the way you wanted to squeeze your thighs together, your legs shook against the sides of his head.

Theodore placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs further apart, continuing to travel around your folds with his tongue with increased speed. Before you could orgasm, he pulled away suddenly, making you whine loudly in surprise.

"Theodore..." you said, tugging on his hair. He stood up and began to unbuckle his belt, slipping his pants off.

"Be patient sweetheart," he smiled. His boxers fell down his legs next, his glistening cock springing out. You placed your hands behind your back on the desk to support yourself as you stayed seated and he guided the tip of his cock with your entrance.

You felt a bit afraid, this being your first time having sex with Theodore, and it seemed like he could tell because he tilted your chin up softly and said, "I'll go slow okay?"

You nodded sheepishly, letting him push into you slowly. A tear rolled down your face, some of your deer makeup coming off. He let out a guttural moan as he inserted his large cock fully into your cunt, beginning to move slowly in and out of you.

"F-fuck," you whispered. He found your reaction cute when you looked wide-eyed at him, face contorting with pleasure.

"Got it?" he asked you. You nodded quickly, giving him the message that you were okay. "Yeah, yeah... you can take it," he whispered in your ear.

He went at a moderate pace, not wanting to overexert you for your first time.

"Theo-- Theo!" you huffed out. He stopped, backing away so that only the head of his cock was still in your sopping cunt.

"Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?" he said in concern.

"Faster..." you requested meekly. "Please?"

Surprised but not complaining, he gave a lowly chuckle, practically grinning from ear to ear.

"If that's what my good girl wants."

He increased his pace, thrusting into you quickly. Your soaking folds allowed him back in every time he pulled out. He took your tits into his hands again, twisting and pinching as he simultaneously pumped in and out of you.

Both of your moans filled the room; his low and paced, yours messy and uncontrolled.

You neared an orgasm again and you could tell he was about to come as his hair became mussed and a light layer of sweat glistened on him.

"Shit... Do you want me to come inside? Is that what you want?"

"Y-yes!" you answered desperately. Your legs shook and you threw your head back as your orgasm washed over you, his following suit right after.

His ropes of release filled your insides, beginning to seep out. He pulled out, looking at the mess he made you. He readjusted the headband on you.

"I love you."

You looked at him, mouth somewhat agape before uttering, "I love you too."

He grabbed your head, planting a kiss on your forehead before helping you off the desk and onto your feet. You looked at him hesitantly.

"Does this mean I'm your girl again?"

"Well..." he feigned uncertainty, giving you a gallic shrug.

"Don't tease..." you complained, leaning into him.

"Sorry, y'know I can't help it," he grinned. "And you never stopped being my girl."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[d3arapril]

PUSH 2 START | p.b

pushin' on my buttons with no hesitation, gas me up give me motivation

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 5.4k words of pure filth sorry not sorry warnings/tags: sexual content. VACATION PAIGE!!!, they get drunk and nasty FRRR, dom!paige, oral, fingering, strap usage (yes i finally wrote it), squirting, doggy, spanking, overstim - bro i could literally go on and on, just read it lol. (reminder - don't like it? don't read it)‼️ ᡣ𐭩 this idea quite literally came to me in a dream. this wasn't supposed to be full on smut but obviously i got carried away & ended up writing quite possibly the dirtiest thing i've ever written.... i listened to tyla's album on repeat whilst writing hence the random title. enjoy :D as always feedback & reblogs are appreciated x

“Think I have heatstroke.”

You roll your eyes from where you’re sat on the balcony, distracted from the half eaten packet of lays sat in your lap. You shift in your seat to crane your neck around to look at Paige through the glass doors, sun beaming down onto your skin.

“We were outside for like, half an hour.”

The Greek sun was no joke. You'd both decided to treat yourselves to a last minute vacation, frantically booking one of the nicest apartments you could both find a week prior to departure. Seven days on a Greek island was your idea of heaven and Paige had willingly agreed, claiming she needed some sun.

However, what she wasn't prepared for was the sun being the hottest thing she'd ever felt in her 23 years of being alive– her words.

The blonde groans from where she’s splayed out on the bed. The crisp, white sheets are a nice contrast against her newly tanned skin, body wrapped in a white fluffy towel.

You stand up from the chair, grimacing at the sting of your legs unsticking from the plastic. The packet of lays gets abandoned on the small table before you and your toes burn against the hot tile as you hop back into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you.

Paige doesn't flinch when she hears you come in, cheek smooshed against the sheets. She hums in the back of her throat when you scratch at her scalp as you pass her, her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

"You gonna make it to dinner, champ?"

A breath of a laugh leaves Paige as she pushes herself up with another groan, towel loosely tucked around her body. You're busy sorting through the selection of dresses you'd packed when you feel her wrap her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

Her head juts towards the white dress hanging up in the closet. "Wear that one."

It's a fairly simple dress- plain white with a racer style neckline and ruffled skirt. You take it off the rail and hold it up in front of you, head tilting as you study it. "Really? It's kind of boring."

"Nah," Paige's hands rub up and down your sides, nose nudging against your cheek. "S'my favourite." She punctuates her sentence with a kiss to your jaw. It's seemingly innocent, but you know the girl well enough by now.

You slip out of her grip, dress in hand, before she can try anything, grabbing a pair of white strappy heels as you go.

"I'm gonna get ready in the bathroom," you're heading towards said room before she can stop you. "Reservation is at 8!"

You're sat on the couch, impatiently tapping a heel against the flooring. You tap against your phone screen to check the time for what felt like the hundredth time– you only had five minutes to get to the restaurant. Somehow, Paige always managed to take so long to get ready. You'd tried to get into the bedroom to see what was taking her so long but the door was locked so you were forced to sit and wait for her like her chauffeur.

You're scrolling through TikTok when you hear the lock click on the door. You huff, grabbing your bag from beside you. Standing up, you run a hand down your dress to flatten out any creases and when you look up Paige is stood in the doorway.

She's got her hair slicked back in her classic bun and she's wearing a white shirt with a simple black crop top underneath. The shorts she's wearing are black, too and she's wearing the Nike's you bought for her. She stands in silence, hands tucked into her pockets as she watches you take her all in.

You slink towards her, heels clicking against the tiles. You're aware you're probably staring at her like she's a piece of meat but you can't find it in you to car when she looks this good, plus it's not like she would complain.

"You're late," you hum, pulling her in by the belt loops. "What took you so long?"

She shrugs, opting to not respond. Instead, her hands reach out to rub down your back. "You look..." She pauses, leaning back. Her eyes start from your heels, trailing up your legs. Her gaze pauses on your chest for a second before meeting your eyes. "Really fucking good."

The pink of her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she takes your hand and holds it above your head. "Twirl for me."

You do as she says, giddily spinning in a circle for her. Her teeth pull at her bottom lip as she watches you, the vanilla from your perfume hitting her like some sort of pheromone. You drive her insane.

"You like?"

"You know I like. We're matching."

Before you can respond, the sudden dread of missing your reservation hits you and you're kicked into gear, eyes widening as you cast a glance at your phone in your hand.

"Fuck, we're late!"

You pull Paige by the wrist as you frantically leave the apartment, locking the door behind you and walking as fast as you could in your heels to the restaurant.

Alcohol in Europe is different to the alcohol in America– it's somehow much, much stronger.

You'd had an amazing dinner, followed by some amazing cocktails. What was supposed to only be one or two turned into arguably too many and before you knew it you were both stumbling back to the apartment.

The front door is opened and shut again faster than you can blink and you're pressed against it before your brain can catch up with you. Your head spins a little when you tilt it up to give Paige access to your neck, dazed smile spreading across your lips.

"Mmmm," Paige all but moans against your skin, licking a stripe up your neck. "Tastes good."

"Might be the alcohol." the words leave you lazily, slurred. Paige pulls back to look at you, eyes glazed over.

"Nah, s'all you."

You pull her in with a hand gripping the back of her neck, lips slotting against hers. It's hot, messy- her tongue slides against yours and you taste the alcohol on her breath. Ordinarily, you'd make a joke about her needing to brush her teeth but you're fully aware you're just as bad so you remain silent, just kiss her deeper and softly moan into her mouth.

When you part from each other you're both panting, string of spit separating the two of you. You lick your lips and it breaks, clinging to your bottom lip. Paige's thumb reaches up to wipe it away, pad of her thumb pressing against you. She just stares at you as she swipes the digit across slowly, smudging the remainder of your lip liner down your chin.

"So fucking fine," she murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick at her thumb, smirk forming when she lets out a shaky breath. "You tryna kill me?"

"Maybe." you smirk at her, pushing at her shoulders until she stumbles back. You glide past her and head to the lounge, the blonde hot on your heels.

She catches you by the couch, arms caging you in from behind. You let her, of course. The cat and mouse game is usually fun but when you're this desperate, there are plenty other things you'd rather be doing.

"So many rooms to choose from," Paige whispers against the shell of your ear, "So many places to fuck you in."

Your knees almost give out and you're sure they would've if it wasn't for Paige holding you up, her chest pressed tight to your back.

"Could fuck you here," a flick of her head gestures to the couch.

Her hands find your chest, squeezing at your tits through the fabric of your dress. "Or on the counter, on the balcony."

You're abnormally quiet, nodding at whatever she says. She snickers, hands trailing down further until they reach the hem of your dress. Paige knows that when you're speechless, she's doing something right.

"You want that?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"All of them."

She spins you around and you have to grab onto her to steady yourself. Her cheeks are all flushed and she's clearly just as drunk as you.

"Gonna let me?"

You feel like you're going to cry from how badly you want it.

You nod eagerly, gripping the fabric of her shirt. You want to rip it off of her, lick all over her tan lines and have your way with her but you let her have this one; you can tell she's in the mood to take control and you'd never be one to deny her of that.

She wrestles herself from your tight grip and flops down on the couch, legs spread and arms wide across the back cushions. You're still stood in your spot, hands now awkwardly by your sides as you wait for her to tell you what to do.

"Take it off."

You lean down to slip off your heels but she stops you with a cough.

"Keep 'em on, I meant your dress."

"But-"

"Off, c'mon."

You stand up straight again, gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it up and off your body. It's a bit of a struggle and you stumble around slightly but it eventually slides off of your head. It drops beside you and you're left in a simple matching white set.

Despite the alcohol coursing through your body, you still manage to feel shy under Paige's heavy gaze. She's still sat in the same position, eyes raking over your body.

"C'mere."

You toe towards her with careful steps, nothing but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile and both of your heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. You're standing between her legs, much like you were earlier, and she still doesn't move from her spot, fingers gripping at the cushions of the couch.

Paige’s gaze remains locked on yours, her lips curling into a smirk as she leans back further into the couch, making no move to close the distance between you. Her liquid confidence oozes with the weight of her stare and the longer she waits the more your heartbeat thuds in your ears.

“Closer." she murmurs, her voice low.

You inch forward until your shins hit the leather of the couch. You try to stop your hands from shaking, try to act like this is any other time you've been in this situation but there's something about having the entire space to yourself that makes this feel so different, so intense.

"Do you plan to do this all night, or?" your voice comes out quieter than you'd intended.

She lets out a laugh, arms reaching forward to pull you in by your hips. You fall into her lap, bracing yourself against her shoulders to soften the impact.

"I just like lookin' at you," Paige licks her lips, glossy eyes looking up at you. "So sexy, you know that?" Her left hand smooths up your torso, grips at the fat of your chest and squeezes.

You whimper pathetically at the contact, your hands moving from their spot on her shoulders to her hair. You mess with the hair ties and pull the bun free, fingers brushing through the blonde strands. Paige hisses when your nails scratch against her scalp, hips pushing upwards against your own.

Her right hand slides around your back and she pulls you down until your chests are pressed together. You kiss her, open mouthed and messy as your tongue laps at hers, grinding down against her. The rough metal of her zipper presses against you through the thin material of your underwear and you whimper against her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at the feeling.

Paige's left hand finds home on your ass, squeezing and guiding you to rock against her. You whimper into the kiss as she uses her hold on you to grind you down onto her harder, tongue pushing further into your mouth. You can feel the heat radiating off of her, can smell the scent of the shampoo she used in the shower this afternoon and taste the alcohol on her tongue. You're practically drunk on her let alone the alcohol, and she's definitely drunk on you, too.

You're so caught up in the moment you're not prepared for Paige to flip you around. You let out a small ah! as she does so, head spinning from the sudden movement. Your back is now against the cushions, leather sticking to your sweaty skin. The blonde slips down onto the tiles in front of you, now kneeling between your legs.

"Hold 'em." Paige's hands are at the backs of your knees, pushing them up until they're almost at your chest. The heels of your shoes knock together and it's a reminder that you're actually still wearing them. You do as she says, clammy hands gripped tight over hers. You watch with bated breath as she slips her hands from your grip, thumb coming to press against your clit through your panties. It's a soft touch but it's enough to make you gush again; what was once a thick white material now a glossy, sheer mess.

"Fuck," Paige breathes. She moves her thumb in small, gentle circles around the clothed area. Your head falls back against the cushion of the couch, mouth open in a silent moan. "This all for me?"

"Always," you murmur, licking your lips as you move your heavy head, eyes meeting hers. "It's yours."

"Yeah it is," Paige nods, her voice coming out strained. She moves to slide her hands up the backs of your thighs and hooks both thumbs into your panties, pulling them up and off your legs until they're hanging around your ankle, exposing your pussy. "So good." she purrs, leaning forward to press open mouthed kisses against you. You suck in a breath when her tongue laps up your slit, nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

She moves slowly at first, and for a moment you wonder if it's because of her own drunkenness, but the longer she goes on the more you're reminded of just how good she is at this. You feel like you're going to explode at the slightest touch, every stroke of her tongue against your clit sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

"Paige," you moan repeatedly, her name coming out like a prayer. She hums against you, hands pressing against the backs of your thighs to keep you spread open for her.

You gasp at the feeling of her warm, wet muscle pushing past your folds to languidly dip against your entrance. "Oh fuck, fuck- babe."

She's sloppy with it, a mixture of your juices and her spit dripping down between your ass and onto the couch. You'll scold her for doing this here tomorrow but right now it's your last concern.

Your toes curl when she shakes her head against you, tongue flicking against your clit. "Gonna make me cum," the words leave you as a sob, mouth hanging open. You feel the wetness between your thighs increase even more when you hear her moan, the vibrations shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "Feels so good."

Paige's fingers dig harder into the skin of your thighs as she continues to lap at you. She pushes her tongue into you again and then moves upwards, pressing sloppy kisses against your swollen clit.

"Yeah, right there, please-" you choke on your own words, the feeling of her nose brushing against your sensitive skin making you jolt. You can't stop the loud cry that leaves you as she sucks your clit back into her mouth, tongue massaging against it.

The room is spinning and your legs start to cramp from how hard your muscles are tensed, nails almost piercing into your skin when the chord in your stomach suddenly snaps. You're practically crying, eyes rolled back in your head when it hits you. Paige helps you ride it out, keeping you pressed to the couch whilst she drinks up your slick. You're trembling, stomach rippling from the intensity.

You expect Paige to pull away, lean up and give you a messy kiss like she normally would but instead she slides two fingers up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness on the tips before she's pushing them into you.

"Wait," you whimper, feet kicking in the air. "Babe, wait, I just- I'm-"

"You're good," she murmurs, lips brushing against the inside of your thigh as her fingers slowly pump in and out of you. "I got you, just relax."

You mewl, letting her have her way with you. She starts off slow, fingers curling up deep. The sound is obscene, with every flick of her fingers the wet sound fills the air but you feel no shame, if anything it just turns you on more.

Paige definitely feels you flood her fingers because she picks up the pace, thrusting her fingers deeper into you, curling them with each stroke. Your entire body is coated in sweat, droplets beading against your skin. Her other hand moves from its place on your thigh to spread you wider, opening you up to her even more.

It's all too much; the heat, the way you're spread open for her, the pressure building deep in your stomach. She adds a third finger and the stretch makes you sob, legs starting to shake in your grip.

"I can't," the words spill from you, incoherently. "Please, please I can't."

"Shhh," Paige coos, leaning down to kiss the back of your thigh. "You can, gonna make you cum again."

She curls her fingers and the tip of her middle finger brushes against that spot, her palm pressing down against your clit. The feeling is so intense and you can't do anything but whine, thighs shaking around her.

"So good to me," Paige breathes out, heart hammering in her chest. She watches the way your pussy clings to her fingers, the digits now glistening as she pulls them out of you before thrusting back in. "She loves me, hm?"

You nod feebly, tears slipping down your cheeks, head lolling against the cushions of the couch.

Paige is relentless, fucking her fingers into you with such force you can feel the pressure in your ass. Your legs are starting to burn and so are your hips and it feels like a balloon is being blown up in your stomach, pressure becoming harder to ignore with every pump of her fingers.

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Paige-"

You cum for the second time with a broken sob and you hear it before you feel it, the distant sound of a splash against the tiles below you followed by Paige's load groan. It hits you hard, legs quivering as you squirt around her fingers, the wetness coating the floor. She slips her fingers out quick enough for another gush to leave you, trickling down your ass and onto the leather.

She moans, watching it play out in front of her. It's the hottest thing she's ever seen, her fingers now rubbing against your clit in quick motions.

"Again, again."

"Fuck, I can't-"

"Again." she demands but the word leaves her like she's begging, voice a pitch higher.

It's embarrassing how fast the heat builds in your stomach again, and before you can stop it you're squirting all over again, pussy clenching against nothing as you cry out.

Paige leans down, tongue slipping between your folds to drink you up. You're sobbing, trying to get away from her but you can barely move.

"You're okay," Paige mumbles, soothing her hand down your quivering leg. "I got you, s'okay."

A moment passes, Paige's head resting against the back of your thigh as she strokes her soaked hand against the other. You drop your legs ungracefully, stretching your limbs and groaning when your hips and knees crack after being bent for so long.

"That sobered me up." you whisper, heavy eyelids threatening to close. "Did they put viagra in your drink?"

Paige stifles a laugh, her own knees cracking when she stands up. She holds out a hand you to help you up and you take it with a shaky one of your own. You grimace at the feeling of the wet leather sticking to your bare skin, standing up.

"You ruined the couch."

"Says the one who squirted like a fucking firehose." Paige's hand comes up to push the hair from her face, a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. "S'not my fault I do that to you."

You groan, pushing at her shoulder. "Shut up."

Paige laughs and drops her hands to your hips, walking you backwards towards the bedroom. You stumble a little, bambi-like legs struggling in your heels.

"Get on the bed."

You're pushed backwards onto the bed, bouncing slightly when you hit the sheets. Your chest is heaving, heart still thumping wildly in your chest. Paige is climbing over you, caging you in with her arms and legs. Her lips ghost the shell of your ear,

"Still gotta fuck you in here."

She ducks down and connects your lips, teeth knocking against yours as she does so. Her hips grind down against yours and your hands snake under the fabric of her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. Paige pulls back to shrug it off of her and throw it blindly behind her, reaching back to pull her crop top off in one fluid movement. She's braless, tan lines from her bikini top prominent against her now tanned skin. The sight alone makes you moan.

You both shimmy up the bed, lips still connected, and when the back of your head hits the pillow Paige's lips are on your neck. You sigh, hand smoothing down her back. Her skin is damp and so is yours, the smell of sex filling the air.

"Please, babe," you whimper, fingers pulling at the waistband of her shorts. Paige hums, sitting up to push them down her legs and kick them off.

"Hmm," she murmurs, fingers sliding over your cheek, thumb resting against your bottom lip. You part your lips, tongue swiping out to lick the pad of her thumb. "You gonna do something for me?"

"Anything."

Wordlessly, Paige pulls off her boxers with practiced ease and begins crawling over you. Her hand rests against the headboard as she steadies herself, the other reaching down to cup her pussy. You lick your lips, eyes flickering between hers and her cunt.

"Please," the word is soft, leaving you breathlessly. "I wanna taste you, please."

"Yeah?" she tilts her head, the pad of her index finger sliding up and down her slit. You watch her gather her wetness and then bring it up to her clit, circling the bud. "Wanna make me cum?"

"Please, please." you grip at her thighs, nails digging into her skin. Paige moans at the feeling, her own hand now moving faster against herself. "Wanna make you feel good."

Paige's hand leaves her pussy and she hovers above you, holding onto the headboard. You lift your head and stick your tongue out, eager for her to sit on you. You whine when she hovers her pussy just above your mouth, tongue swiping out to lick against her folds.

"Fuck, yeah," Paige moans, head dropping forward. Her left hand grips the headboard whilst her right holds onto her pussy, spreading herself open for you. "Yeah, good girl."

The praise goes straight to your core and you moan, tongue darting out again. She's finally sat on your face and your head falls back against the pillow, licking at her cunt like a woman starved.

She starts grinding against your tongue, the slick sounds filling the air. You're making a mess of yourself, saliva dribbling down your chin as you lap at her, tongue dipping inside her.

"S'good," Paige pants, grip against the headboard tightening. "Yeah, like that-oh fuck."

Your tongue flicks against her clit, your thighs squeezing together as a you feel your pussy gush just from making her feel good. She's so warm and wet and tastes so good and you can't get enough, tongue lapping at her clit in quick, harsh motions.

"Keep- fuck- keep doing that," her head drops forward and her hips cant, her movements becoming sloppy as she chases her high. "Right there, yes-"

Her legs start shaking, the muscles quivering under your touch and her hand reaches down, smoothing against your hair. Her hips move erratically, chasing her orgasm.

"Oh fuck, m'gonna cum." she pants, a bead of sweat rolling down the valley of her breasts. "Keep- yeah, yeah-"

Paige cries out with a broken moan, her orgasm washing over her. She's shaking all over, groaning as you keep lapping at her clit. You drink her up, moaning against her pussy.

"Please," she begs, her voice high pitched. "Fuck, I can't."

She's cut off by her own sob, eyes rolling back in her head. The room is filled with her moans, the sound bouncing off the walls and mixing with the obscene sounds coming from where your mouth is.

Paige is squirming on top of you, the sensation of overstimulation sending waves of pleasure through her body. Two can play at that game, you think.

"So good to me," Paige manages to choke out between moans, teeth gritted. "My fucking girl, s'so good."

You're drunk off of her, her words of encouragement only spurring you on. You roll your tongue against her clit, nails pressing down harder into her skin. Paige fights against your grip, hips lifting up as she pants heavily, forehead pressed against the wall.

She shakily moves her hips backwards and away from your mouth, now sitting across your hips. You're breathing just as heavily, the room spinning around you. Your chest is heaving and your eyes are half lidded as you stare up at her, lips red and puffy.

"You're so hot," you mumble, eyes drifting across her chest. The words leaving you before you can even process them.

Paige snickers, running a hand through her hair. "I know."

"So fucking annoying."

"You love it."

And well, she's not wrong. You reach up, cupping her tits and giving them a firm squeeze. Her hands reach up to cover yours, leaning into your grip.

"You want it?"

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and figure out what she's referring to but when she gestures down to her crotch with a nod of her head, the cogs turn into place.

Paige spots the excitement in your eyes because she sniggers, tongue kissing her teeth. "'Course you do."

She clambers off of you, slight wobble in her legs as she does so. The moonlight dances through the room and you can see the sweat beading against her back, muscles rippling when she digs through her suitcase.

When she turns back she's got the harness briefs dangling from her fingers, skin coloured dildo fisted in the other hand. She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes back at her, urging her to get on with it.

She stands at the end of the bed, slipping the boxers over her feet and up her legs. She fits the dildo into place, bottom lip pulled between her teeth in concentration when she fumbles slightly.

You watch her with bated breath, squeezing at your covered tits mindlessly.

"Keep that on," Paige mumbles, nodding towards your bra. She crawls onto the bed, stopping at your feet. "Turn over for me."

You flip over with a groan, using what little strength you had left to keep your chest flat to the mattress, ass high in the air. Just how you know she liked it.

She affirms your thoughts with a soft moan at the sight of you, moving further up the bed. You feel the plastic brush up against you and it makes your thighs twitch, ass jutting up higher for her touch.

Her hands smooth against your ass, squeezing at the fat of it when you back up against her again. "Someone's impatient."

"C'mon." you urge, shaking your ass just enough to get her to fold. It works, of course, because she moans again- deeper this time. She grips the base of the dildo and slides it between your folds, blunt head nudging your clit. You're still soaking wet, the plastic glistening before she's even put it in you.

"Damn," the word leaves Paige automatically, pupils blown out as she admires your mess. "Ask me nicely and I'll put it in."

You groan against the sheets, fits gripping the cotton tightly. "Please, Paigey."

The nickname gets you a harsh slap to the ass, the impact stinging your skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth but the smirk grows across your lips despite it all.

"Fuck me Paigey, please."

"Shut the fuck up."

She slides in with one smooth motion, intrusion bringing your brows up to your hairline. It stings slightly but the familiar is welcomed, comforting almost.

"Gonna fuck you now," Paige's hands smooth down your back, coming to rest at the base of your spine. "Gonna make you fucking cry."

You strain your neck against the bed to get a peek at her and you're not sure you've ever seen her this wound up before- her eyes are wide, a red flush travelling across her chest and up to her cheeks. She's fucked.

Her hips draw back and then slam back into you, the sound of skin on skin deafening you. She's unforgiving, nails digging into your skin as she uses your hips as leverage to fuck into you. She's grunting with each thrust, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Yeah, yeah-" you whine, eyes screwed shut as the blonde ruins you. You can just about hear how wet you are over the sound of her skin smacking against yours, the recognisable squelch of your pussy getting louder when she grants you with another slap to the ass. "You fuck me so go-ood."

"Yeah?" Paige breathes out, slapping your ass again. Her hand tingles from the force but she ignores it, slapping your other ass cheek with the same hand. "Whose pussy is this? Hm?"

You can barely respond, body jostling against the sheets.

"Is it mine, baby?"

You nod against the sheets, helpless.

Another slap.

"Tell me."

"It's yours!" you cry out, fingers practically ripping holes into the sheets. "Yoursyoursyours-"

"Fuck yeah it is."

She pistons in and out of you at an ungodly speed and it makes you dizzy- so dizzy you don't even feel your orgasm approaching until you're on the edge, threatening to tip over.

"Cumming!" is all you can let out, the word caught in your chest as your spine curls inwards, heels kicking up against your girlfriend. It hits you like a truck, legs spasming and arms stretching out against the sheets as you cream against Paige. You see spots in your vision, eyes crossing as the pleasure consumes you. You feel everything, and then all of a sudden- nothing.

"You good princess?"

You crack an eye open to see Paige laying beside you, propped up on an elbow. She's gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, hair now pulled up into a messy bun atop of her head.

"Did I die?"

She snickers, leaning across to press a kiss to your forehead. "I killed that pussy, maybe."

You release the sheets that's still gripped in your hand to shove the blonde back but she just sticks her tongue out at you, reaching behind her for a glass of water left on the bedside drawer.

"Drink some, you need it."

She holds it to your mouth and you chug it down, dry throat welcoming the fluid. "I seriously passed out?"

"Eh," Paige shrugs, rubbing down your back. "You were conscious, just about."

"Wow," you roll onto your front, ache between your thighs making itself evident. "You did a number on me."

"Same again tomorrow?"

Your palm smooshes against her face, pushing her away with a laugh.

"Your turn tomorrow, Bueckers."