#and as you can probably imagine i was trying to finish it Quickly

[heylorrain]

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Words: 8,080 Tags: Ominis x F!Reader x Sebastian - Explicit - Characters are aged up

Thanks to my smut sensei @butternutt613, without you, this entire o.s wouldn't have been possible!

💓 Available on Ao3 with the full image 💓

Studying charms had become your downfall. Despite a week of studying, the information just wouldn't stick. Sebastian promised to help after Quidditch practice like the good boyfriend he was, but you knew he would take his time, so you decided to wait for him at his dorm. When you entered, Ominis was there unexpectedly, catching you both off guard. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry Ominis I-”

“No! No I should’ve…locked the door?” Ominis choked out with an awkward giggle. 

Every interaction with Ominis was fraught with tension and unspoken business. From the accidental brush of hands while walking to class, to his head resting on your shoulder in History of Magic, each moment only fueled the growing heat between you. But it all came down during the Amortentia lesson in Potion’s class, when Sebastian discovered that Ominis had smelled your scent in his potion. In a fit of jealousy, Sebastian became overprotective, and Ominis remained silent about his true feelings for you. The tension between all three of you was palpable now that everything was out in the open.

“I should probably go” Your stomach twisted into a tight, throbbing knot as your eyes raked over Ominis stretched out on his bed. 

His pants hung low on his hips, teasing just a hint of that V-line that made your mouth water. He was a masterpiece, and the way he laid there—languid, inviting, and oblivious to the storm he was stirring in your mind—was maddening.

“No!” - He lost his composure for a second there -“ I mean you don’t have to… you can, stay.” He said in a low voice. “I- I don’t think that’s a good idea” 

You couldn’t deny the fire raging inside you for him—the way his pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, the way his gaze somehow looked through you as if he could see every filthy thought you were trying to hide. He was a paradox—gentle yet commanding, innocent yet so sinful. But Sebastian’s name flashed in your mind like a warning sign. You couldn't deny the intense feelings you had for Ominis, but you also couldn't betray Sebastian by acting on them…could you?

“Why?” Ominis asked, tilting his head. “Why isn’t it a good idea?” 

His hand twitched on the bedspread as he sat on the edge of it, fingers curling into the fabric like he was holding himself back from reaching out to you. You wanted those hands on you—needed them. You imagined them sliding up your thighs, gripping your hips, pulling you down onto his lap until you were grinding against his coc-

STOP IT! Focus. Answer him.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaking as you struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

“Be-Because of Sebastian. Because...” Your words trailed off as Ominis stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and hypnotic. "It's nothing," You added quickly, avoiding his gaze at all costs now. He was blind, blind but not fucking stupid.

“Tell me, I know you, I can tell something is bothering you.” He towered over you, his fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. You could see it, feel it—the way he was holding himself back. “If you’re not going to, then, I’m afraid I have a confession to make”. 

He leaned closer and whispered in your ear. Every nerve on your body froze in place, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You held your breath, unable to move or speak as he revealed his darkest desires and secrets.The potion class had triggered something within you both, something that had been buried deep beneath the surface until that moment. 

His minty breath washed over your face like a drug, making your lips twitch and your lungs ache for air. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until your chest heaved, drawing in the intoxicating scent of him. 

When he finished his confession, your eyes finally locked with his, burning with shock and realization that you both were now on the same page.  

His lips were so close, you could almost taste them, and it took every shred of your willpower not to lunge forward. With clumsy fingers, you closed the door shut and frantically turned the lock, sealing you both in the dorm.

“Are you even aware of what you just admitted, Gaunt?”. You knew there was no turning back now. Not ever. 

“I am. But I’m afraid I can’t help it. It’s like a spell, a curse, that I can’t break.”

“A curse ?” You repeated. 

Fine, if he thought you as a curse, a curse you were going to be. 

Your body was acting on its own now. He should’ve known the consequences of his actions, should’ve known that his words would unravel you. 

“Is it a curse to love me then?”

He tried to slink away, his back hitting the wall like a cornered animal, but you weren’t having it. Not now, not when the air between you crackled like electricity. 

Fuck. This. Shit. 

You closed the gap, your hands sliding down his sides. Your fingers dug into the soft curve of his ass, molding into the back pockets of his pants. 

He leaned his head back against the wall, feeling you, his breathing becoming a bit more ragged. He could feel the warmth of your hands in his pockets, and the proximity between you two made his heart race. He closed his eyes, and spoke between breaths.

“It’s no curse loving you,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. “But it’s a fucking curse knowing I could never have you.”

“But here we are,” you purred “inches apart, and still you resist me. Are you afraid of being cursed?”

His body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. His hands had been gripping the wall behind him. His chest fell up and down more rapidly with the ragged rhythm of a man teetering on the edge of self-control. Your hands traveled all the way up until they reached the hem of his collar, and the way he groaned—low, guttural, desperate—said it all.

“I-I’m not afraid of being cursed. I’m afraid of …myself, of what I might do if you keep doing this to me” He rasped.

His eyes, now dark and hungry, locked onto yours, they were wild, "like a predator stalking it's prey"- fuck no. You weren’t a prey. You were the goddamn hunter, and he was yours.

“I’m not afraid of you, Gaunt…” Your fingers moved with deliberate slowness, unbuttoning his shirt one torturous button at a time. Each pop of fabric felt like an explosion, and his body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

“We shouldn’t be doing this”

“But here we are…” 

Your lips hovered just inches apart from his, the temptation to give in to sin became nearly unbearable for either of you.

“Kiss me” You commanded. 

His resolve snapped like a cheap rubber band. He crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so deep, so possessive, it felt like he was trying to mark you from the inside out. His tongue invaded your mouth, slick and desperate, mapping every inch of your warmth like he owned it. And you knew he fucking did. His hands were everywhere, greedy, roaming your torso, your curves, your skin. He squeezed your waist like he wanted to leave bruises, his fingers digging into your flesh like he was trying to carve his digits on you. He’d spent too many nights jacking off to the thought of this moment, and now that he had you, he wasn’t going to waste a single goddamn second.

His cock strained against the fabric of his trousers, throbbing with every breath you took against his lips. But your inner devil wanted to play more games before things went further. You pulled back just enough to make him growl, your lips wet from his kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails scraping lightly against his skin as you tangled your fingers in his hair. You yanked his head back just enough to make him groan.

“Sebastian kisses me better” you teased.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him so you could feel exactly what you were doing to him.

“Is that so?” he said, a tint of jealousy in his tone “You prefer his kisses?” His hands slid down to your ass, gripping you like he was trying to remind you who you really belonged to.

“I can’t recall… let me taste you again” You smirked, the fucking devil incarnated.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. His tongue sought entrance into your mouth, swirling with yours as you eagerly opened up to him. The taste of you on his lips was exquisite, and your teasing only fueled his desire. 

“More” You moaned. 

That was it. 

He growled into your mouth, not some soft, romantic purr but a deep, primal rumble that vibrated through your lips and straight down to your core. His hands slid under your shirt, cupping your tits like it was his birthright, squeezing them hard enough to make you moan.

Ominis pushed you harder against the door, placing his knee between your legs and forcing you into a sitting position. Your hand lazily traveled down his chest, then down his stomach, lower they went, down to the waistband of his pants, where the outline of his cock strained against the fabric, throbbing with a need so intense it was almost painful. But you, let your hand hover there, taunting him. Your fingers grazed the tip of his shaft through the material, and you heard him groan in anticipation, before you pulled away completely, ignoring it, teasingly denying him what he so desperately craved.

“W-why—” 

“You’re still holding back, Ominis. You are not getting it until I say so” You muttered in his ear.

But little did you know, he could play the same game. Fuck, he could even play it better than you. 

He paused for a moment. His fingers traced a path from your knee, skimming over your thigh with a touch so light it made your skin prickle with goosebumps. Down your skirt, deeper he went, his hand cupping your ass for a moment, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp before he moved on. His fingers danced across your inner thigh, tracing circular patterns that made your legs tremble, until they finally reached the soaked fabric of your panties. You flinched, trying weakly to escape the caress that had already happened.

“Is that so?” He purred with satisfaction, leaning into your neck. “I was holding back for your own good, but now it’s obvious what you really want.” He said before biting into your jugular. 

Oh, how the tables had turned for you. 

“I warned you,” Ominis growled, taking his time to keep ghosting over your entrance, still tamed by a piece of cloth. “but you wouldn’t listen.” He carefully pulled it to the side and spread your legs wider, fully exposing you. You whimpered at his warm touch, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing, begging for his touch. “You never listen”.

With a feather-light caress, he hovered his thumb gently over your clit, almost touching it, causing you to pathetically moan louder in anticipation of what you thought was coming next. 

“Oh? Needy are we?” He chuckled.

But just as quickly as he’d exposed you, he let the fabric snap back into place, the soft cotton brushing against your clit and making you whine. You couldn’t stand the sight of him over you any longer. He had barely touched you and you’d succumbed so easily. You thought you had him under control, but it turned out to be the other way around. 

Your hips bucked instinctively, desperate for more.

“You want me to touch you?” He taunted, his tone dripping with mockery. 

But the words stick in your mouth like thick honey, unable to escape. He grabbed your throat gently, carefully tightening his grip around you, feeling your pulse under his fingertips. Understanding you needed a little push, his fingers roamed back to your core, doing the same ritual he had performed only a few seconds ago. 

“Ss-sspeak.” He commanded.

“Please,” you choked out, your hips grinding. “Please, touch me.”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers final-fucking-ly caressing your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your lips, teasing you until you were practically sobbing. Then, he pushed one finger inside you in one swift motion.

You gasped, your walls clamping down around him. Your slick coated his finger, making every thrust glide in and out of your tight core easier each time. The sound of your musky arousal was painfully loud to you. But for him, it was music to his ears. You opened your eyes and whined loudly, crumbling like sand, little by little under his touch, and he was enjoying every second of it. 

“I bet you look beautiful when you’re like this” Ominis devoured you with his beautiful eyes, looking you dead in the eye as he introduced a second finger in you.

Your body betrayed every ounce of need coursing through your veins.He continued to work you, unhurried, taking his time feeling every shiver your body made when his fingers fucked you, slow and steady, his rhythm maddening. Your clit throbbed, begging for attention, and you couldn’t help but grind against his palm, fucking yourself on his hand.

“You’re such a mess, darling” He teased, his breath hot against your ear. “But you love this, don’t you? Taking my fingers like the good girl you are, writhing around like you can’t get enough.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent response—your brain was mush, your entire body on fire. Your hands clawed at his shirt, desperate for more of him. He didn’t stop you. Your fingertips crawled under the fabric when he fastened his tempo on you.

“Please…” You whimpered. You didn’t even know what you were begging for—his cock? His tongue? More of those fucking fingers that were deliciously destroying you from the inside out? All you knew was that you needed him, needed more, and if he didn’t give it to you soon, you were going to lose your goddamn mind.

Your cries were muffled by his palm, but your body was screaming for him, your hips bucking against his hand as you almost reached your peak. But a knock on the door made you both stop.

“Ominis? Are you in there?” Sebastian asked.

The sound of Sallow’s voice was like a bucket of ice water being thrown at both of you. Ominis froze, his fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt. The slick, obscene sound of them sliding out of you was almost as loud as your sharp gasp. You could feel your juices trickling down your thighs, hot and sticky, as his fingers finally left you empty. His hold on you loosened, making your feet find the ground. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy and fast rasps.

“Answer him” You whispered.

“Yess-ss…” He forced out the words, dragging them like a snake's hiss. His annoyance at being interrupted only heightened the tension in his voice. 

Sebastian’s voice came again, a loud whisper. “Ominis, I swear to Merlin, if you’re jerking off in there—”

But the sound of other voices echoed throughout the corridor, indicating that Sebastian was being distracted by other students, meaning you’d have time to hide… or think of another solution. 

Right?

Wrong.

You were drowning in Ominis Gaunt, your head swimming with the thick, intoxicating scent of his body, your mind haze-drunk on the forbidden. Your trembling fingers fumbled clumsily at the last button of his shirt. It popped free, and there it was—his chest, a landscape of goosebumps rising under your greedy gaze. His breath hitched, his cock already straining again and again against his pants, begging for release. 

“This is wrong, so wrong...” he muttered.

But his words were hypocritical, a pathetic attempt to gain his restraint back. His hands were already on you, yanking your shirt up and over your head like a man possessed. The fabric hit the floor, and there you were—bare, exposed, your tits bouncing free, your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. He closed his eyes and inhaled, he wanted to devour you whole, and of course, you wanted him to.

His hands hovered over your chest, trembling, hesitant, like he was scared of the power he had over you. But then his fingers brushed your nipples, and fuck, the spark that shot through you was almost deathly. You bit your lip to stifle the moan, but it was a losing battle. 

His teeth sank into your shoulder, his hands digging into your sides hard. You shivered, but he held you down, his body pinning yours. His tongue dragged a wet trail from your shoulder to your collarbone. He moved lower, his mouth closing over one of your tits. His tongue grazing your nipple. He bit down gently, then harder, and the pain melted into pleasure, your skin burning where his mouth had been.

“Shh,” he growled, slapping a hand over your mouth before you could scream. But it was too late—your moan spilled into his palm, muffled but still filthy, the sound of pure desperation.

“So, you are busy then?” Sebastian's insistence grated on Ominis' nerves. He stopped paying you attention and got closer to the door.

“I am not- WhatdoyouwantSebass-sstian?” He snapped

"Oh? Not busy then?" You whispered with a smirk.

Your hands roamed down this stomach until they found exactly where he needed you the most. Your fingers danced over the waistband of his pants, teasing the lace ties that kept his cock hidden away. Ominis’ body betrayed him, his cheeks flushing a deep, sinful red as he tried—half-heartedly to swat your hands away.

“Don’t you d—” he started, but the words dissolved into a choked moan as you yanked the lace free, his cock springing out with a hungry, throbbing eagerness.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his breath hitching as you dropped to your knees before him.

It was a pure and sinful invitation: veins pulsing and pre-cum glistening at the tip. You didn’t waste time. Your hands wrapped around his cock, fingers clumsily exploring the heat and hardness of him, feeling the way his cock twitched in your hand, desperate for more.

“Then if I come in, I wouldn’t be interrupting anything, right?” Sebastian insisted.

Ominis’ grip on the doorframe tightened, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his voice steady.

“No” he managed to answer, but the word was brittle, already cracking under the pressure.

“No?” you teased, your tongue darting out to taste the head of his cock, tasting the salt of his arousal.

His flavor was intoxicating, you couldn’t get enough. You wrapped your lips around him slowly, taking him inch by inch into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive underside of his shaft. Ominis’ breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping him as he gripped your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands with a possessive urgency.

“Actually, yess-ss you are interrupting.” Ominis stammered, his voice trembling as he tried to maintain the illusion of control. But you weren’t about to let him pretend.

Your hands roamed lower, tugging at his pants until they hit the floor in a crumpled heap, leaving him completely bare before you. His skin was pale and smooth, marked by a couple of moles spread like constellations over him and the faint trails of your nails as they dug into his thighs, leaving red scratches in their wake. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seemed to fucking revel in it, his hips bucking forward as you took him deeper into your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, guiding your head back and forth with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had him biting down on his lip. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room—wet, filthy, and utterly obscene.

Ominis’ eyes fluttered shut, his head thudding against the door as he lost himself in the sensation. His thumb brushed over your lips, smearing the spit that dripped down your chin, feeling with his hands on your cheeks, his cock fucking your mouth with slow, shallow thrusts.

But just as you began to drink in the full, glorious image of him—his cock slick and swollen fucking you, his body trembling with need—he closed your eyes with a gentle caress of his hand, his thumb resting on the edge of your mouth, feeling the friction of his cock in you.

The wet sounds of your lips wrapped around him grew louder, more frantic, and Ominis’ control was slipping fast. His hips jerked forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat in a way that had you gagging, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. But he didn’t care—he didn’t fucking care. All that mattered was the way your mouth felt around him, the way your throat tightened as he pushed himself deeper, the way your hands clawed at his thighs like you were desperate for something to hold onto.

“Ominis?” Sebastian’s voice was sharper now, more insistent. “Are you with... someone?”

“I-I’m relaxx-xxing…okay?” Ominis said between his teeth. 

He was having you on a golden platter. Just for him. And he was starving. His hand fisted in your hair, slowly yanking you onto his dick. You squint one eye open, catching a glimpse of his abs flexing, his hips driving deeper, harder, until your nose pressed into his base. The sound of a soft pop broke the trance as he pulled his slick cock from your mouth, leaving a shimmering thread of spit dangling between your swollen lips and him.

"You're such a good girl" he growled in approval. His fingers traced your jawline, smearing spit across your cheek as he smirked down at you. “But let’s not forget—ladies first.”

He helped you up, not giving you time to react when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, leaving you only with your skirt on. He pressed you against the door, teeth sinking into the back of your neck. He hissed against your ear, something you didn’t understand in Parselmouth.

“I said, bend for me ” He commanded.

You felt his hand pressing down on your back, forcing you to arch and present your ass to him like an offering. You reached behind you, desperate to feel the heat of his cock, but Sebastian interrupted again. 

“Ominis, open the fucking door!” 

Sallow was getting impatient, you could tell, and it was a matter of time before he casted Alohomora on the lock. You immediately stood straight, sick and tired of being interrupted over and over again.You turned to Ominis, breaking the moment for him, who was already kneeled. He looked angrily at you, like if you’d interrupted his meal… And well, you kinda did. 

FOR FUCKS SAKE. 

Can’t a girl just get a pleasent fuck in peace?

You opened the door boldly, just to find Sebastian with his ear pressed against the door. He froze in surprise as you quickly pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. 

Ominis remained on his knees, motionless and stunned. Did you just open the door to Sebastian, mid-fuck?.

“There, happy?!” You said, but it quickly dawned on you what you’ve just done. 

Well, shit.

After the longest awkward silence ever, Sebastian finally reacted. 

"I knew it! I knew it," He began to panic, his hand running frantically through his hair. The glint of tears glistened in his eyes as a feeling of betrayal consumed him. "I knew you were both going to do this to me sooner or later. I knew you'd betray me. How could you do this to me? I've done nothing to deserve this." Tears streamed down his face.

But there was something about seeing Ominis slim naked body for the first time that made Sebastian unable to take his eyes off of him when the blonde stood up from the floor. And then, there was you—knees dirty, thighs slick with sweat and finger marks, and your hair all disheveled. He tried to brush off the strange feeling that had started building on his chest. It was betrayal, yes, but also something more.

“Relaxing, Ominis? Fucking relaxing?” Sebastian spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his eyes flickering between Ominis and you “Did you two—?”

“No,” you cut him off, but your voice was shaky, breathless.

Not yet…

But Sebastian wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

“How long has this been going on?” Sebastian’s voice was low, as he dropped onto the nearest bed, his thighs spreading slightly. His pants strained against the bulge that was already pushing against the zipper. He shouldn’t be this turned on, could he? He should be furious, raging at the betrayal of watching you and Ominis together. But all he felt was heat—a molten desire that coiled in his gut.

“Just today,” Ominis answered, his voice steady, calm, like he wasn’t standing there with his dick out and his lips still swollen from kissing you.

Fuck, even his voice was enough to make Sebastian’s breath hitch.

“Just today,” Sebastian repeated, his tone mocking.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to cross his legs to hide the massive tent in his pants, but it was no use. The outline of his cock was obvious, straining against the green pattern trousers, throbbing with every beat of his heart. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides to keep from reaching out and grabbing you both.

He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t. But goddamn, the sight of you two together—naked, sweaty, and still catching your breath—was enough to make his head spin. Sebastian’s stomach twisted, not with anger, but with a hunger so fucking raw it might as well have been feral.

Ominis stepped closer. He knew his best friend too well to not get the silent hint. “You’re enjoying this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. It wasn’t a question.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, but he couldn’t deny it.

“Shut up,” he growled, but there was no bite to it. His hands twitched, itching to touch, to grab, to claim.

And then Ominis did something that made Sebastian’s brain short-circuit. He dropped to his knees in front of him, his hands resting on Sebastian’s thighs. He looked up at him through his blonde lashes.

“You smelled us both in your Amortentia potion didn’t you?,” Ominis purred, his breath hot against his crotch. “That’s why you’ve been so defensive and… jealous.”

You moved closer to them, finally understanding everything. Your fingers glided through their hair with deliberate intent, locking eyes with Sebastian. More tears clinging to his dark lashes, betraying the turmoil within him as he struggled to accept the desire that burned inside him. 

“Cinnamon and mint” He confessed in a low whisper.

He looked at you with watery eyes, and clumsily, unzipped your skirt. He kissed your lower belly, taking in your sweet scent.

You caressed his cheek as you sat behind him, your fingers deftly navigated the buttons of his shirt, each pop echoing like a thunderclap of liberation. As the fabric slipped away, his freckled back emerged, vulnerable and exposed. You enveloped him in an embrace, the press of your chest against his back a soothing balm to his chaotic soul. He exhaled deeply, surrendering to the raw emotions he had finally acknowledged. His head fell back with a groan, resting on your shoulder, his fingers tangling in Ominis’ hair as the blonde worked quickly to free Sebastian’s cock from its confines.

“Close your eyes, darling” You whispered in his ear as your palms caressed his eyelids, closing them, then proceeded to roamed his body, all the way to the base of his cock.

Ominis wrapped his lips around the tip, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head before sinking down further.

Sebastian was fucking gone. He didn’t know where he ended and you two began. His hips jerked upward as Ominis worked him, and his breath was caught on his throat at your hands, one on his groin, and the other one around his neck, tightening little by little with each thrust his hips did. 

“You’re so warm” Sebastian exhaled breathlessly. “You feel so good, so fucking good”

“Just enjoy this, Sebs,” You muttered as your hand wrapped around his throat “and be a good boy” 

A cry rolled from his lips as Ominis fastened his tempo on him, his hands roaming his thighs, pulling him deeper into him. 

“I’m gonna cum. Stop…” Sebastian pleaded. “Stop”

“Manners, Sebastian?” You whispered.

Ominis pulled away with a loud pop, but his hand quickly replaced his mouth and kept working him. 

“Well?” Ominis insisted.

“P-Please” When Sebastian said the magic word, Ominis then stopped. 

“Good boy” Ominis praised before crawling into the bed with you, where you both guided Sebastian to join you. 

You positioned yourself between the two of them, so that you could reach both of their mouths with yours. You pulled Ominis into a primal kiss, your tongues tangling together as he moaned into your mouth, your hands gripping his hair as he devoured you. His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, cupping your tits like he wanted to eat you whole.

At the same time, you took Sebastian's hands and guided them to your breasts as well, encouraging him to explore your body however he liked, moaning as he cupped them, his rough fingers toying with your nipples, pinching them just hard enough to make you gasp against Ominis’ lips. His cock throbbed against your back, leaving a sticky trail of precum on your skin as you ground yourself against him involuntarily. You could feel his tongue on your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh, sucking and biting.

Then, you grabbed Ominis’ hand and guided it to Sebastian’s neck, giving Sebastian the green light to finally kiss the man he’d been craving. And thank the gods you did. 

Their lips met in a kiss so hot it should’ve set the room on fire. Their tongues tangled, slick and desperate, their cocks pressing against you from both sides, front and back, like they were trying to carve you with their hardness. You reached down and wrapped your hands around their cocks. They were both so hard it felt like steel in your grip. Precum dripped from their tips as you started stroking them—slowly, painfully slowly—spreading their slickness up and down their shafts, your fingers sliding over every vein and ridge. Ominis moaned into Sebastian’s mouth, his hips bucking into your hand, while Sebastian’s breath hitched.

You were the fucking conductor of this depraved symphony, your body writhing between them, your hands working their cocks with a rhythm that had them both on the edge of losing it. You could feel Ominis’ cock throbbing in your grip, his breath coming in ragged gasps, while Sebastian’s hips were jerking uncontrollably. 

When you felt they were about to reach their peak, you stopped. Therefore, they did too, panting and regaining their senses. You shifted to face Sebastian, his lips slick with spit crashing into yours as your body moved with a purpose, getting in four, offering yourself to Ominis first.

Sebastian’s eyes went wide, his cock twitching at the sight of you, your ass presented to his best friend, and your lips parted and waiting for him.

The blonde’s cock teased your entrance, the tip of him brushing under your folds a few times, brushing your clit and making you shiver. He was thick, his shaft heavy with need, and you could feel the heat of him as he pressed against you.

“Fuck me,” You commanded.

And either of them need to be told twice. Sebastian came forward in an instant, his cock in his palm, hovering over your mouth, the tip dripping with precum that you licked up like it was candy. Your tongue swirled around the head, teasing the slit before taking him deep into your throat. Your hands reached up to grip his hips, pulling him closer as you sucked him like your life depended on it.

Meanwhile, Ominis was pushing inside you, his cock finally stretching you open in the most delicious fucking way. Your pussy clenched around him, feeling him, greedy for every inch as he filled you up. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deep as he let out a guttural moan. His hands were on your ass, holding you open as he fucked you.

Your moans vibrate on Sebastian’s cock, making Ominis slide a hand down your back to your scalp, making you take Sebastian even deeper with each thrust. 

“You’re taking us both so well.” 

Sebastian reached to your cheek, brushing off a tear that had begun to roll down your face. His other hand was in your hair, gripping it tight as he used your mouth. 

But then his eyes flicked over to Ominis, and his rhythm faltered for just a second. The jealousy hit Sebastian like a fist to the gut.

“Fuck,” Sebastian growled “why does he get to be in you first?” His hips jerked harder, driving his cock down your throat until you choked “You like his cock better than mine?” 

You were able to moan a “no”  in response but Ominis cut you off right away.

“Don’t lie,” Ominis purred, squeezing your buttcheeks harder with each thrust. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Sebastian warned, his voice strangled as he kept fucking your throat. 

You didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, your tongue working him over as Ominis pounded into you from behind. The symphony of the wet sounds of your pussy taking Ominis’ cock, the choked moans coming from Sebastian as he fucked your face filled the entire dorm.

And then it happened. Sebastian came with a quiet shout, his cock pulsing as he shot load after load down your throat. You swallowed every single drop, your eyes rolling back as Ominis kept hitting your sweet spot. 

Sebastian’s hands were firm as he helped you up, carefully to not interrupt Ominis. His lips crashed into yours, hungry and possessive, the taste of himself still fresh on your tongue—salty, primal, and his. Your nails dug into his chest as the pure ecstasy of the moment consumed you.

When Ominis felt he was about to cum, he stopped and grabbed you from behind and trailed kisses down your back. You moaned at the loss of his cock in you.

“Not yet…” He teased. 

His lips trailed down and up your back, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver. His teeth sunk into the tender flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp, your body arching against him as his fingers pinched your nipples—hard, just the way you fucking liked it.

“You’re more mine than you are hiss-ss,” Ominis growled into your ear in Parselmouth, his voice dripping with dominance, and a moan tumbled from your lips, raw and unfiltered.

Your hardened nipples were an open invitation to Sebastian’s mouth, which he immediately accepted, ruthless and hungry as he descended on your tits, sucking one hardened nipple into his mouth while his fingers pinched and twisted the other. Your back arched as you ground yourself against his hand, needing more, needing everything. Sebastian’s fingers plunged into your slick pussy, curling deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. Your juices coated his fingers, sticky and warm, as he pumped them in and out, until he had to hold you so you could stand still. Ominis grabbed your hips in place, and tightened his grip around your neck until he could feel the pulsing of your heart on your throat. His cock slid under your ass cheeks until he felt Sebastian fingers.

“You were the one who opened the door, remember?” Ominis whispered as he bit the shell of your ear. “How does it feel like to have both of us fucking you?”

The words trying to leave your throat weren’t coherent, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, your body was a quivering mess of pleasure and pain as they fucked you, tearing you apart and putting you back together with every thrust, every touch.

“You’re so perfect,” Sebastian growled, his lips brushing against your other ear, his voice rough with desire. “Your pussy’s like fucking velvet.”

You reached your climax, yes, but they didn’t stop, they accompanied you further in the waves of your first orgasm, their bodies moving in perfect harmony with yours.

Sebastian’s grin was predatory, he spun you around so you could face Ominis, his fingers—still slick with your arousal—pressed against your lips from behind. Your mouth opened like a reflex, your tongue flicking out to taste yourself, the tang of your juices mingling with the salt of your sweat. 

Ominis couldn’t resist you. His forearms hooked under the back of your knees, pulling your legs wide open. Sebastian’s chest pressed against your back, pinning you in place as Ominis slid the head of his cock into your dripping cunt with one smooth, deliberate thrust. You gasped, the stretch of him almost too much, but fuck, it felt good.

He buried himself into your pussy. The obscene slaps of his hips against your pelvis echoed in the room, and you could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock as he pulled out and slammed back in. You glanced down—couldn’t help it—and saw your tits bouncing up and down and his cock disappearing into your slick.

“You like watching him fuck you?” Sebastian purred in your ear, his voice dripping with mockery and lust. You nod. “You like seeing him penetrate you, don’t you? Say it so he can hear you admit it”.

“Ye-Yes, I l-love it” You said between breaths.

Ominis’ hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. You were fucking drowning in sensation, your pussy throbbing around him, your clit still tingling from your previous climax.

Your second orgasm hit you like a mad train, and Ominis didn’t fucking stop. He drove into you harder, faster, his cock slamming into that sweet spot inside you until you were screaming, your body shaking like a leaf, prolonging your ecstasy. He pulled out at the last second, his cock jerking as he painted your stomach with thick ropes of cum, each shot followed by a low, guttural growl.

And then... then they were gentle. Sebastian’s fingers brushed the hair from your face as Ominis pressed soft kisses to the nape of your neck. They cleaned you up with tender care, their voices low and soothing as they whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You leaned into their touch, your clumsy hands roaming their bodies as they showered you with affection.

For all the filth they’d just put you through, they knew how to make you feel like a queen after. But you knew this was far from over.

“Lay down,” Sebastian then commanded in a whisper, and you both obeyed instantly.

Sebastian laid on his side next to Ominis, wrapping his hand around Ominis’ cock, his strokes fast and relentless, keeping his friend’s dick hard. 

And you? You had some making up to do for interrupting Ominis’ meal earlier. You crawled toward the wooden bedframe, your thighs framing Ominis’ head like a crown. He didn’t waste a second. His forearms hooked down your thighs, making you sit. His tongue dove into your cunt, lapping up every drop of your -and his- arousal, his nose pressed against your clit, his breath hot against your slick folds. You ground yourself against his face as his tongue worked you tenderly, his lips sucking and nibbling at your sensitive flesh.

Sebastian’s hand was slick with sweat and something stickier as he worked Ominis’ cock, stroking him with a rhythm that was almost musical. Sebastian’s mouth left a trail of possessive kisses and sharp little bites that made Ominis hiss and writhe beneath him. 

Sebastian’s tongue found the scar just below the V of Ominis’ hips—a jagged, pale line that told a silly childhood story. He licked it with a tenderness that was almost mocking, the heat of his mouth making Ominis’ back arch.

“Ss-sSebastian" The word was muffled by your body above him. But you hear it. Sebastian heard it. Probably the whole fucking common room heard it. 

Sebastian responded, like a dog being called by its master. He dropped his head, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth motion. The wet, slurping sounds he was making were loud, obscene and totally on purpose so you could hear what he was doing. 

And it fucking worked. 

You climbed off Ominis, your thighs trembling, as he licked his lips clean with a shameless moan. You kissed your way down his chest, your tongue tracing the ridges of his abs, your hands roaming lower while Sebastian continued to blow him with lips and tongue, his eyes closed, lost in the rhythm. Your fingers laced with his brunette hair, encouraging to take Ominis even deeper. 

“He looks so pretty with his lips around your cock, Ominis” You teased, caressing his groins, seeing how he twitched even more at your touch. 

“Ss-Sebastian fucking Ss-Ssssallow,” Ominis hissed again, his voice a broken rasp, his hips bucking up into Sebastian’s mouth.

You switched places with Sebastian then, positioning yourself between their tangled legs like some kind of snake. Both men were devouring each other, their hands couldn’t get enough of their skin, pushing and pulling into primal wet kisses, their cocks like two concrete towers framing the scene. 

Your mouth found Sebastian’s entrance, teasing it with slow, torturous licks while your hands worked them both at once—Sebastian’s cock heavy and hard in your palm, Ominis’ slick with spit and pre-cum on the other.

You took both of their fluids and began to caress Sebastian’s hole, preparing him for what you knew it was coming. It was so obvious, even Ominis could see it. Your fingers pushed into Sebastian, stretching him open with slow, firm motions while your mouth worked Ominis now, taking him deep until you choked on him. Sebastian moaned at the intrusion, his body opening up for you like a fucking flower, his hole clenching around your fingers like he was begging for more.

It was obvious—painfully obvious—what he wanted. 

Ominis sat and pulled you up with him, raining kisses over your arm and shoulder as he laid you on your back next to Sebastian. You eased yourself onto the cool sheets, allowing your legs to fall open invitingly as Sebastian rolled over you.

He sat on his knees just on top of you, taking in the sight of your beautiful and vulnerable position beneath him. He noticed your legs trembling -obviously, right?- so he took them up to his shoulders and kissed them from your feet all the way to your knees. At the same time, Ominis' hands danced across Sebastian's body, fingertips eagerly exploring every contour and curve of his chest as if trying to memorize its exact topography. Going behind him, he leaned in close to Sebastian, pressing fevered kisses along his back, causing him to arch into the sensation. The arousal coursing through him manifested itself in his throbbing erection, leaking in anticipation.

You were there too, grinding your hips up against Sallow, inviting him. You watched, your breath hitching, as he dragged his spit-slick fingers down to your pussy, the coldness of it making you gasp as he circled your clit. 

Ominis’ hands slid lower, gripping Sebastian’s ass as he pushed himself between the man’s thighs. Sebastian groaned, his forehead falling into yours as Ominis pressed his erection against him, teasing the rim of his ass with his cock. You could see the way Sebastian’s body trembled, caught between the pleasure of your heat below and the promise of Ominis’ intrusion behind.

You positioned Sebastian’s cock at your entrance, just before Ominis pushed into him, slow but firm, making Sebastian gasp, his muscles tightening around the invading length.

“Fuck, ah” Sebastian moaned, the word rough and broken, like it had been dragged out of him.

Your hands roamed his body, feeling his muscles tense and relax as Ominis fucked him from behind. Sebastian’s hips rocked forward, his cock parting your folds, and making you whine in pleasure as you could feel, and see, both of them. 

Ominis controlled you both, and he knew it. He leaned over Sebastian, his breath hot against the man’s ear as he whispered:

“You’ve been waiting for this moment, haven’t you? And look at her—look how she’s taking you. Look how you’re fucking her.”

Sebastian’s hazel eyes locked onto yours, glassy with pleasure, his lips parted as he panted. You could see the desperation in his gaze, the way his body trembled as Ominis fucked him harder, deeper, his thrusts sending Sebastian’s cock slamming into your pussy with a wet, obscene slap. You reached up, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you rode the wave of pleasure that was threatening to consume you.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel” Ominis commanded. 

“ Fucking g-good” Sebastian cried. 

And then you realized—he wasn’t just talking to Sebastian. He was talking to you. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a moan, a high, keening sound that was drowned out by the wet slap of skin on skin.

“Tell me” he insisted

“So good,” you moaned, your voice trembling as Sebastian’s cock hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur. “So fucking good—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Take it all.”

And you did. You took everything they gave you, your body writhing as pleasure built in your core like a storm. You could feel Sebastian’s cock twitching inside you.

The mattress creaked under you three, the bedframe was pounding the wall almost as hard as Ominis was pounding both of you. Your lips locked onto Sebastian’s in a messy, desperate kiss that left your mouths slick with spit. His hands clawed at the bedframe, his knuckles white as he tried to hold on, but his arms trembled like he was about to collapse from the sheer intensity of it.

As you came with a scream, your core clenched around him. Right after you, Sebastian came hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you up with his hot, sticky cum. Ominis too—he buried himself to the hilt in Sebastian’s ass, his cock twitching as he emptied himself deep inside.

The room was a fucking mess— Sebastian collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling, a lazy smile spreading across his face. His dark hair was a mess, sticking to his forehead, his lips were swollen.

“Fuck,” you muttered, noticing your thighs were still trembling “I think I just saw Merlin.”

Ominis chuckled. He joined you both and leaned back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling as he traced a finger down your side, his touch sending shivers through your oversensitive skin.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice low and dripping with smug arrogance.

Sebastian reached out as well, his fingers brushing against your stomach, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender. “We didn’t break you, did we?”

Oh, but you were broken—shattered into a thousand little pieces, your body a wreck of pleasure and exhaustion, your pussy still throbbing, your skin sticky, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so... satisfied.

“I’m more than fine,” you managed to rasp. “Don’t worry.”

Ominis, the gentle lover he was despite the filth he’d just unleashed on your body, leaned in to press soft kisses on the curve of your neck, his lips lingering against the pulse point that still fluttered wildly. Sebastian followed, nibbling at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin just enough to make you shiver. The three of you lay there, enveloped in the afterglow of your masterpiece of depravity.

👉 Are there any grammar mistakes? Probably. Will I fix them? No. Thank you 😃 Happy HL Anniversary & early Valentines Day! ✨🫰

[keeryhours]

no one knows (oh, what you do to me) - steve harrington

CEO!Steve Harrington x personal assistant fem! reader

Main Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

1k Celebration Masterlist

Summary:

Your boss is too hot for his own good.

1k celebration prompt: “Behave.”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, smoking, unspecified age gap

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

Thank you for celebrating with me! You can still request here if you want to join!

Big big shoutout to the best @punkrockmlchael @the-witty-pen-name @lesservillain @fizzing-imagines @losingmygrasponreality for reading and helping with ideas!

Mr. Harrington fastened his cuff links, staring intently at his reflection in the mirror in his large office. His hair was perfectly styled, his expensive suit dry cleaned and pressed. He had spritzed on the slightest bit of his cologne, the scent intoxicating even from the other side of the room.

You came over to him with your binder in hand, little black dress hugging your curves just right. This company party was an important one, there would be CEOs and presidents from multiple large companies in attendance. You could tell Steve was nervous. There was a major deal he was hoping to close.

“Can I help with anything, Mr. Harrington?” You asked, opening your binder and looking through the list of tasks. As his personal assistant, you were determined to help this party run as smoothly as possible. “The caterers have arrived, they just finished getting set up downstairs.”

Steve glanced away from the mirror to meet your eyes, giving you a kind smile that did nothing to hide his nerves. “No, you’ve done amazing. Thank you.”

The electricity between you felt like a physical presence. You had always been drawn to Steve, from the moment you got hired at his company. You originally had been hired as a receptionist, but Steve took such a liking to you and how you did things that he promoted you to his personal assistant. You loved the job. It paid well, it was exciting work, something you were good at, and Mr. Harrington was a kind and fair boss.

He was also extremely good looking. Maybe a little too old for you. And, you know. Your boss.

It didn’t stop you from swooning over him, or constantly gushing about him to your friends, or thinking of him when you were alone.

It didn’t help, the way he looked at you. Like he felt it, too. The way his gaze would linger on you whenever he had the chance, how he would place a hand on your back and let it linger too long, the way he always wanted you by his side (which probably was because you were his assistant, but you’d read into it if you wanted to, dammit). Steve was quiet about his private life, but you had certainly noticed the lack of a ring on his finger.

Lisa, the new secretary, popped her head into the office. “The guests are arriving, Mr. Harrington.”

He gave her a nod. “Thank you, Lisa.” He looked over his appearance in the mirror one more time, and you wished you could tell him he looked perfect and sexy as hell, not a single thing out of place. “Are you ready?” He asked you.

“Ready,” you confirmed, and he surprised you by holding his arm out for you. He looked at you expectantly as you stared at it in shock, but finally snapped yourself out of it and linked your arm with his.

Down at the party, things were in full swing quickly. You trailed Steve as he spoke to about a million businessmen and women, introducing you as his assistant. You were surprised he deemed you important enough to introduce to these people at all. They were nice enough, but quickly turned their attention back to Steve.

The alcohol was flowing, and everyone was in good spirits. Steve’s conversations with the other professionals were going well, especially with Mr. Connor, the CEO he was trying to close a deal with. You could always tell when Steve was happy with how a deal was going because he could never wipe off that charming smile, the laugh lines on his face prominent.

“Do you want to get some fresh air with me?” Steve asked after a little while. It was getting stuffy in there and you were a few drinks deep, so you agreed. Steve led you out the back glass doors onto a private balcony.

He pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from behind a potted plant, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. You raised your eyebrows, and he smirked as he brought the flame of the lighter up to the cigarette. “Our little secret,” he said.

Somehow, it made him even hotter. And now you had a secret together? It might have been the alcohol, but your head was spinning with how badly you wanted this man.

And maybe it was also the alcohol, but you were feeling a little bold.

Your pen slipped from your hand (totally by mistake, of course), clattering to the ground. “Oh, shoot,” you hissed, and you bent over, giving Steve the perfect view of your ass in your short dress.

You could practically feel Steve’s eyes on you. And oh, was he looking. His eyes shamelessly dragged over the curve of your perfect ass, the tiniest glimpse of your black lace panties beneath. The smoke left his lips in a slow cloud as he took in every inch of you he could before you stood again, his pants now uncomfortably tight.

“Sorry,” you blushed, leaning back against the balcony as you faced him again.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

You only blushed deeper, your eyes roaming Steve’s figure, his immense sex appeal only increased as you watched him smoke. “Sorry,” you said again out of habit.

Steve chuckled. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You cheered internally. He had really just complimented you.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Mr. Harrington,” you smiled at him, a little flirtatious. For the year you’ve dreamed of making some kind of move, you’re still beyond shocked that you’re actually doing it.

“Please,” he waved his hand with the cigarette before dragging on it one more time. “Call me Steve.”

He had never told you to do that before. Your heart thundered in your chest - what did this mean?

“My ex wife never liked when I smoked,” he commented randomly. “So now I keep it quiet.”

It was the first thing Steve had ever told you about his personal life. It caught you off guard, and your own next words surprised you even more. “Are you single now?”

Steve smirked at the question. “Yes. I am.” Another drag. “You?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, completely giddy that he’d even asked. “Single.” He smiled again, giving you a little nod like he approved of that.

When he finished his cigarette he stubbed it out, tossing it off the balcony. He straightened his suit and slid a hand over his always immaculate hair. “Ready to get back to it?”

Back at the party, you were suddenly physically much closer to Steve. He led you around with his large hand on the small of your back, and you could almost pretend you were his date. His young little trophy wife, attending events on his arm without a pen and binder clutched to your chest.

Steve being into you out back had only boosted your confidence, and the cocktails were certainly helping. You would make a point to slide in front of him in tight spaces, muttering a quiet “Excuse me,” as you brushed your ass over the crotch of his pants completely on purpose. You could feel his breath hitch behind you; the way he twitched like he wanted to move away but also wanted to touch you. You kept bending over in front of him again and again, leaning across him and pushing your breasts near his face.

It was working. Steve’s attention was entirely on you, totally distracted whenever a colleague would speak to him. Something about his demeanor seemed a little on edge, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you by the arm and pulling you out into the hallway. Your eyes were wide when he spun on you.

“I’m carrying this company’s reputation on my back,” he said, eyes shining with intensity. “This is potentially the most important deal of my life.” He leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear. It gave you goosebumps. “So you need to be a good girl and behave.”

Your mouth parted in silent shock. An electrical current ran through your body, right to your core. His hand trailed up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up slowly.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He practically growled in your ear.

“I-“

“Oh, don’t act cute,” he sneered. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You may be young, sweetheart, but you’re not some innocent little girl.”

You were speechless. Steve looked like he was fighting something in his own head; he cursed under his breath. “We’re not gonna be able to go back to that party until we get this out of our systems, are we?”

And with that he pulled you to the elevator. “Where are we going?” You asked, attempting to keep up with his long strides in your heels without falling on your face.

“To my office,” he said simply. He pressed the button for the top floor and the doors slid closed.

The second they did, Steve was on you. He pushed you up against the wall, his lips on yours in an instant. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands slid up your dress, grabbing your ass and pulling your body against his. God, was he hard already?

He bit down on your bottom lip before his tongue slid over it and you let him in with a moan, the smirk felt against your lips as his tongue pressed into your mouth. His hands slid over your hips, teasing the hem of your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you walked in these doors for the first time,” he murmured. “You have no idea the restraint I’ve had to show. The things I’ve had to do to the thoughts of you when I get home just so I can control myself at work.”

You whimpered at his words, clit throbbing between your legs at his dirty mouth. Were you dreaming?

“Mr. Harrington…”

Steve groaned, pushing his hardened cock against you. “I told you, you don’t have to call me that. But fuck, I love it when you do.”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open and revealing the empty hallway. Steve lifted you, and you squealed as your feet left the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you the short distance to his office, fumbling with the doorknob as he held you up.

Inside, he carried you to his huge mahogany desk. He used one arm to sweep everything but the computer off and onto the floor, sitting you on top of it. Your eyes were wide, head spinning at how bad he clearly wanted you as the papers all scattered to the ground, making a huge mess Steve didn’t seem to give a fuck about.

He hiked your short dress up around your waist, revealing your black lace panties and your (thankfully) freshly shaven legs. His hands slid up the smooth skin slowly, like he was savoring every inch of your body. He wore a ring on his right hand, the real gold like ice against your skin, making you shiver.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he remarked to himself. “And such a little minx. You know what those tiny little skirts do to me?” He leaned in closer, lips brushing your neck. “It’s against our dress code, you know. Couldn’t bring myself to say anything because I liked the view too much.”

He kissed your neck, running his tongue over the sensitive flesh as he moaned at the taste of you. He pulled back and quickly discarded his suit jacket, throwing it over the back of his desk chair. Your hands moved for his expensive leather belt, unbuckling it and then working on the button of his pants.

“I’ve wanted you so bad,” you admitted. Steve chuckled, the sound way sexier than you’d ever heard a laugh sound. He bit down on your neck and you moaned, tilting your head to the side. His hands caressed your body, now sliding up your sides until he was grabbing at your tits.

You got his pants undone just as he reached for your panties, sliding them down your legs. He placed your high heel-clad feet on the edge of the desk, spreading your legs wide for him before he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lowered his head to your pussy.

You gasped at the feeling of his tongue licking along your folds, devouring your wetness and groaning at the taste of you. “Fuck, taste so good. So sweet. Just like I imagined.”

He was so good. He worked his tongue expertly against your cunt, paying special attention to your clit as he flicked it with his tongue and wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. You cried out, head tilting back as you leaned back on your arms. Steve grabbed tightly onto your hips, pulling you as close to his face as possible. His tongue teased your hole, nose brushing against your clit.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-“

Steve slipped a long finger inside of you, curling it and pumping deep inside, and it was all it took to push you over the edge. You moaned loudly, not even thinking about if there could be a janitor or other staff member on the floor. Steve groaned as he worked you through your orgasm, drinking in every bit of slick you gave him.

When he stood to his full height again, you could see the wetness on his lips and chin, the sight absolutely obscene and so hot. He crashed his lips to yours again, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He moved back a little to push down his pants and briefs, long, hard cock springing free.

Jesus Christ.

It was such a pretty cock. Long and thick, just the slightest upward curve. There was a vein along the underside of it that you ached to run your tongue over. His tip was tinged red, precum glistening at his head. You longed to wrap your lips around him, to have a taste. His cock twitched as he watched you staring, and you reached for it.

But Steve already had other plans.

“Later,” he promised you, slotting his body between your thighs. You breathed out at the feeling of his hard dick pressed against your pussy, insistent and ready. “I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait another second.”

And with that he pushed inside of you, the stretch intense but incredible. You both moaned deeply as he sunk into your deliciously tight heat, it was everything he imagined and more.

“Mr. Harrington-“ you cried out a moan as he snapped his hips into you, filing you with the rest of his length abruptly. He was so deep his cock was pressed up against your cervix, you had never had a guy so deep inside you before.

Steve shuddered as the formal title accidentally slipped from your lips, holding still as he was buried to the hilt and trying desperately not to cum in 2 seconds. He had never in his life felt a pussy so perfect, so tight and wet and made for his cock. “Fuck…” he hissed.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, moving your hips, desperate for the friction of him moving inside you. Steve groaned again, face buried in your neck, but he slowly drew his hips backwards, pulling out until only his tip remained, then snapped them back into you.

He started a quick pace, like he lost all self control and now could only think about fucking you, losing himself in your perfect cunt. He held your hips as he rutted his cock into you, the noises of your wetness around his cock and his skin on yours filling the room. The sturdy desk groaned under the intensity of his movements.

“Feels so good,” he huffed, moving back to press his lips to yours again. “Perfect little pussy. So much better than I imagined at home with my cock in my hand.”

You moaned, because fuck, he had gotten himself off to the thought of you?

“You’re so big, Mr. Harrington,” you whined, pussy throbbing around him as he hit your g-spot with every deep thrust. Steve seemed to lose the tiny sliver of self control he was desperately holding onto at that, his pace turning brutal and his fingers digging bruises into your hips.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last,” he hissed. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, and I’m not gonna last.”

“Want you to cum in me,” you begged. “I’m so close. I wanna feel you filling me up.”

“H-ohh,” Steve let out a mixture of a moan and a whimper, hips stuttering as he nearly came right then and there. “Cum around my cock, baby girl, and I’ll fill you up just like you want.”

He reached a hand between you and rubbed against your clit, that extra bit of stimulation all you needed to have you clenching around his cock over and over as you came, leaning back and your back arching off the desk as the intense feeling washed over you like a wave. “Mr. Harrington! Steve, I- oh god, oh fuck!”

He wasn’t long behind you, groaning your name loudly as his ropes of cum shot deep into you, balls tightening like he was giving you every drop he had. “Fuck! Fuck!”

He held you, both of you trembling as you came back down to earth. Finally Steve pulled out of you, some of his cum escaping and dripping onto his desk below you. Steve just about lost it right then.

He adjusted himself back into his pants, reaching for the tissue box on the floor to get you cleaned up. You blushed as he did, not used to such sweetness after a hookup. He handed you your panties and you gratefully pulled them back on, pulling your dress back down. You had a party to get back to, after all.

“That was…” You began, unsure what to say.

“Incredible,” Steve took the word from you. “But next time-“

“Next time?” You squeaked out, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

Steve smirked. “Next time, I’m going to take my time with you.”

[littelovelunette]

reader begging sevika to put a baby in them...

Shimmer And Silence G!P

Contains smut, breeding, biting, nipple play, impregnation, mentions of drug and addiction, blowjob

Sevika has always been hard headed and never gave into your desires too quickly but she never understood if it was for the best or not.

Shimmer often made her cranky and violent from time to time and being her wife, you didn't like that she made herself get high on the drug so damn often due to her loyalty and work for Silco.

It hurt, because despite wanting to settle down badly you could barely even imagine bringing the topic up to her because what if she didn't approve of your needs and had a Shimmer crashout.

Sighing to yourself, you made the bed as usual and got to doing the chores. You were used to your housewife routine by now.

You'd work at home and ensure she had a clean and cozy place to come back and rest, by the time she's done fighting for Zaun for the day.

You'd approach the topic again today and try to get her to understand that you wanted to settle down.

It had been 5 years you both were married together after all and in all honesty, whether Zaun got free or not life wouldn't pause so you both could settle and find happiness within the battles.

You finished all your work and took a shower, it was evening by then. Sevika was probably gambling after work, she'd be back soon. Maybe drunk, maybe not.

You put on one of your lacy white panties and the matching bra you bought along with it, slipping on one oversized t-shirt over the underwear, you didn't feel like wearing anything else for now.

The door opened and Sevika walked inside, “I'm home,” she called lazily, she didn't go to Last Drop which was a little strange.

Maybe she was just tired.

“Hi, baby,” you smiled and helped her take her poncho off, she walked to the bedroom after giving you a brief kiss, getting out of her clothes.

She laid down and you went over to her, sitting down beside her, “Baby, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sevika gave you a little nod to acknowledge your words and gesture that she was listening.

“I think we should start trying for kids.”

The silence sunk in the air around both of you. “Did you just say what I think you just said? Or am I mishearing things already?” Sevika asked, her tone a little condescending.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and responded, “I just feel that if we don't, y'know, I'm not getting any younger… I might not be able to even have children. We don't know what the future holds for us,” you placed one hand over her bigger one, rubbing your thumb over the calloused skin, “The battle won't pause so we can have children, please, this is the one thing I really want.”

Sevika stared at you for a while before sighing, shaking her head. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

Exasperated, you shifted so you were now on her lap, “Baby, please,” you said, cupping her face in both your hands as you sighed a little feeling her bulge against your clothed heat.

“You're a tease, y'know that?” Sevika slapped your ass, grabbing the lump of flesh and squeezing, “Fine, I'll give it some thought.”

“No, you always say that and then your mind changes,” you moved a little so her growing bulge could rub against the soaked spot on your panties.

“Just say it, you get off on the thought of me breeding you,” Sevika whispered in your ear, instantly catching you off guard. She grabbed you by your frame and shoved you down on the bed.

“Look, you even dressed up all pretty tonight,” Sevika smirked, raising the hem of the shirt to check out the underwear you had on.

“I just, I thought maybe there'd be a possibility,” you said, face growing hotter with the second.

Sevika tsked, “Bullshit, I bet you're so wet by the thought of me filling you up, filthy little whore having semen dripping from your holes because you can't even hold all of my load inside.”

Sevika's rough, thick fingers rubbed over your pussy, as if readying it for her massive cock. She pulled her pants down just enough for her cock to slap up against her stomach, precum dripping from the tip of her impressively massive shaft.

“Oh my…” you couldn't help reaching forward and grabbing her shaft carefully in your hands.

Sevika placed a hand over her hip, the mechanical arm holding you in place as you started sucking on the tip of her cock.

“Want me to suck you off?” You asked, looking up at her with those pretty puppy eyes and she nodded, guiding your head as you deepthroated her cock with years of experience.

Sevika gasped, fingers entangling themselves in your hair as you sucked her harder. You had to hold on to each side of her muscular thighs to steady yourself as you bobbed your head, the head of her cock slamming into the back of your throat every now and then making you gag and saliva messily ran down your chin giving you a further lewd expression.

Sevika, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. She used your head roughly to get herself off, shooting ropes of cum in your throat, forcing you to swallow it down.

Sevika smirked down at you as you pulled back, catching your breath from the ordeal and then she gestured to you to get on the bed. As you laid down, she undressed you, taking your shirt off, unhooking your bra and lastly pulling your panties down your legs. Sevika was being extra slow just for the sole reason of riling you up and getting you even more wet.

“Sevika, please, put a baby in me,” you began, “I need you to impregnate me, please, I need it.”

“Mhm? Do you need it?” Sevika mocked cock already aligning against your hole and going in with a single thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as she bottomed out and pulled right back out before slamming it back in, hitting that on sweet spot that back you scratch on her back and bite her shoulder.

Sevika loved it when you bit her shoulder like that, it made you wilder and she loved rough sex. Sevika started slamming her huge shaft into you, grunting from the strain of her muscles every now and then, “Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up to the brim,” she mumbled under her breath, the headboard of the bed slammed against the wall and you were sure the neighbours would likely come down with a noise complaint.

You buried the thought down, crying as Sevika bit your nipple, pulling it with her teeth, “C-C-cumming!” You stuttered and a gush of liquid went over her length, making her eyes close in bliss but she didn't stop there.

She continued ramming into your pussy, her dick throbbing, “Gonna fill you up, take it, slut.” You gasped as you felt the warm semen fill you up, moaning loudly, legs and hands falling back onto the mattress.

You were gonna be a mother soon.

[gir-posting]

thanks for the love on my shitposts heres a fixed up and colored edgeworth doodle to make up for how badly i dropped the ball on his hair earlier

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I Part III Part IV

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood, (Menstion of past) Kidnapping

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing got a few swings in before he heard the sound of something falling onto the ground

He looks up to see that you've pulled the knife out of you and about to stand up

Before Nightwing could help you, his opponent throws a punch while he was distracted.

The vigilante shifts his attention to the thief when you suddenly make an escape. Night wing attempts to call out to you but it appears you didn't notice.

He sighs as he handcuffs the thief. This guy was such a hassle that Nightwing almost forgot why he was in such a hurry to wrap up the whole situation

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home

[cregansdingdong]

imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[miumura]

KISS ME, JUST SAY OH!

types of kisses with enhypen !

pairing bf!enhypen x gn!reader genre fluff, angst (if you squint), comfort, established relationship

warnings reader is crying in heeseungs, reader is sick in jays word count varies 0.3-0.5K+ per member ( 2997 words total )

📩 ‘ NOTE ’ in honor of enhypen’s cb, you know i had to write something related to the title track !! i love xo so this had to be done 😋 anyways, i do hope you enjoy ^^

HEESEUNG — top of the head kisses

top of the head kisses are just so cute i HAD to assign to heeseung because he actually fits it so well??? like he’d think top of the head kisses speak volumes of both love and comfort, which is something he’d often do.

Heeseung didn’t know what to do. He had rarely seen you cry, but there you were in the apartment with red, puffy eyes. As panicked as you were, he was probably even more worried. Seeing you try to quickly wipe your eyes and hide the reason for your tears broke his heart even more. Unsure if he was processing things correctly, he immediately went to wash his hands as he had just come back home, barely drying them as he hurried to have you in his embrace.

“Come here,” he said softly, getting onto the couch and extending his arms to you. You moved into his embrace, and his arms wrapped around you tightly. Heeseung didn’t pressure you to tell him what was wrong, understanding from the start that you didn’t want him to see you cry. He had just happened to come to your place early.

Instead of asking questions, he rubbed your back in soothing circles, offering his silent support as comfort, which you deeply appreciated. Even if he thought his gestures didn’t mean much, they meant the world to you. Being in his presence made you feel comfortable enough to finally let yourself cry while he continued to worry silently. He didn't want to overwhelm you, so he had to calm himself for your sake.

"I'm here for you," Heeseung murmured softly, his voice steady and reassuring. "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Just know that I'm here."

It didn’t take long for you to finally spill everything to Heeseung, who listened attentively and offered comforting words and advice. His patience and understanding helped ease the burden you were carrying. After you finished, you thanked him quietly, remaining in his arms, enjoying the soothing silence together. His gentle back rubs relaxed you, and you found yourself slowly drifting into a daze.

Feeling safe and comfortable in his embrace was a comfort you couldn’t take for granted. Heeseung recognized this as a sign of your trust and appreciation, and he smiled softly to himself. He gently caressed your hair, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. Eventually, both of you drifted off to sleep together, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

JAY — forehead kisses

ohhh i associate jay with forehead kisses so bad!! they are just so quick but sweet / intimate, so i can just imagine jay often giving forehead kisses. i feel like he would definitely view it as a special thing, so it’s something he just can’t pass on.

“I told you to take care of yourself, didn’t I?” Jay tsked, entering the room with medication and a wet towel. “Look at you now—in bed, sniffling and barely able to sit up properly.”

“Okay…but I don't usually get sick,” you sniffled, your nose running as you looked at Jay, who took a seat by your side.

“That’s still no excuse not to take care of yourself,” Jay sighed, reaching over to feel your forehead, frowning at the heat radiating from it. “Now you’re stuck with a fever.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to trouble you with your work today. I just had to—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Jay interrupted firmly. “I’m your boyfriend. I’d drop anything and everything to make sure you’re okay. I want to be someone you can reach out to without hesitation, alright?”

You nodded, managing a small smile at his reassurance. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Well, I can’t afford to get sick,” Jay smiled, reaching out for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze to make up for the lack of intimacy. “Who will take care of you if I do, hm?”

“You’re right,” you sighed. “I wouldn’t want anyone to have this throbbing headache I have right now.”

Jay leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he gently brushed a few strands of hair away from your forehead. He pressed a tender kiss to your feverish skin, lingering for a moment as if willing his strength into you. “You’ll get better soon,” he murmured against your skin. “Just rest and let me take care of you.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his kiss and the comfort it brought. “Thank you, Jay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “That was nice.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied softly, placing his hand back onto your forehead. “I just wanted you to know that I’m always here for you to give what you need. Now, let’s get you some medicine so you can rest and bring that fever down.”

He handed you the medication and helped you take it, his touch gentle and patient. The combination of the medication and your fever was already making you drowsy as Jay pulled the blanket over you.

“Before I sleep,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I get another kiss?”

Jay chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re insatiable,” he teased, shaking his head slightly. He put and adjusted the damp towel on your forehead, making sure it was in place. “I’ll give you more kisses later. For now, rest and get better, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and warmth from his presence. “Okay,” you whispered, your eyes growing heavier by the second. As you slipped into slumber, you felt a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, Jay’s silent promise that he would always be there for you.

JAKE — lip kisses

this guy is definitely super clingy, so there’s no way he’s going to be missing out on lip kisses!! he’s definitely the type to want several to be content 😭 OOUU i bet he’d even pout his way through to get them BUT honestly, he has super nice lips anyways so it would be hard to refuse in the first place 🙂‍↕️

“Come on, Jake, it was just a prank!” you kept trying to explain to your boyfriend, Jake, who was “angry” about the stunt you pulled on him today. “I didn’t mean to give you that huge of a fright!”

“That huge of a fright? It was bugs—and you know how much I hate bugs,” Jake said in disbelief, recalling the fake bug you had placed on the floor, getting the shivers just thinking about it again. “And you just watched me try to ask you for help to kill it, forcing me to ‘kill it’—only to place another near my foot! I almost passed out.”

“And you screamed so loud, saying there was now a family of bugs living in our house,” you said, now unable to hold back your laughter. “You should’ve seen your face!”

“You wouldn’t have said that if you didn’t know they were fake!” Jake protested, trying to sound stern but unable to hide the amusement creeping into his voice.

“Oh, come on, you have to admit it was a little funny,” you teased, still giggling at the memory.

Jake crossed his arms, trying to maintain a stern expression but failing to hide the slight twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said, feigning seriousness. “I seriously cannot forgive you.”

You tried pleading over and over again, trying to get Jake’s attention, but he remained unmoved, intentionally facing away every time you tried to get into his view. He was determined not to let you off easily.

“Jake, come on,” you begged, attempting to step into his line of sight once more. “I’ve said I’m sorry a million times!”

“That’s clearly not enough,” he pouted, crossing his arms once more. “I’m going to need more convincing.”

“Convincing? Like what? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, the hint of a mischievous grin on his face.

“Anything within reason,” you replied, eyeing him warily. “What do you have in mind? I don’t like that grin on your face…”

Jake pretended to think it over, tapping his chin theatrically. Then, in a swift move, he wrapped his arms around your waist, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. Before you could process what was happening, he began smothering you with kisses, making sure you couldn’t escape.

You tried to put up a “fight,” but Jake was persistent in getting what he believed was his revenge, or rather, his favor. He finally stopped by giving you one last kiss on the lips, pulling back with one of his dorky smiles, his arms still wrapped around you.

“Seriously—this is what you wanted?” you asked, breathless from the playful struggle.

Jake nodded, still grinning. “Yup, it was all part of my master plan,” he said, tightening his hold on you affectionately. “The only way to forgive you for that prank of yours.”

“Whatever,” you said with a roll of your eyes, but you couldn't help smiling. Your response elicited another giggle from him, and he leaned in to give you another kiss.

“I mean it,” Jake said softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “I’ll forgive you for anything if it means I get to do this.”

SUNGHOON — hand kisses

i don’t think sunghoon would HATE showing intimacy, but i feel like he could be more awkward with it. he would still want to show some form of intimacy, so hand kisses would be the way to go! because, one, it’s pretty cute and, two, it’s easier for him to hide his face after doing something more romantic.

“Seriously, Sunghoon, that guy was just an old classmate of mine,” you reassured Sunghoon, who kept insisting that he didn't mind, but his slight pout proved otherwise. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood of our date—he just suddenly came over and wanted to chat.”

Sunghoon shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, but you could see the hint of jealousy in his eyes. “It’s fine, really,” he said, though his tone betrayed him.

You gently nudged him, smiling softly. “Come on, I could tell you weren’t thrilled about it. But I promise, it was nothing.”

He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. “Okay, maybe I was a little annoyed,” he admitted. “I just didn’t like how he was taking up your attention.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I think he didn’t know we were on a date, or even that we were dating.”

Sunghoon wasn’t too expressive with his intimacy, as it was something he was still trying to get used to. But the thought of you with that old classmate of yours only seemed to upset him more, and he wanted to do something about it. He really wanted to show that he loves you, even if he couldn’t always put it into words.

“I’ll work on it,” he said, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on it. “So that people like him don’t interrupt our dates again.”

You smiled at his gesture, getting ready to tease him. “So you were jealous after all?”

“I was not,” he insisted.

“Hm, sure,” you said with a grin, watching as his face turned a shade of pink. “What can I do to get an actual kiss?”

“Don’t push it,” he said, trying to maintain his composure but unable to hide a small smile. He felt more relieved than he was earlier and was determined to work on giving you all the kisses you deserved.

Sunghoon glanced at you, a newfound confidence in his eyes. “I’ll get better at this, you know. At showing you how much you mean to me.”

“I know you will,” you said, returning back the same hand kiss that soon caught Sunghoon in another pink mess.

SUNOO — cheek kisses

CMONNN sunoo and cheek kisses have to be literal perfection. like they go hand to hand and they definitely suit sunoo very well. i could see him doing it quite often and wearing a big smile on his face while doing so. it’s pretty self explanatory as sunoo’s image & personality speaks for themselves ^^ i love him

“Can you even believe he would say something like that?” Sunoo exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and showing you a dramatically exaggerated facial expression. You nodded, trying to keep a straight face but soon smiling at him despite yourself—his “upset” expressions were just too cute.

“I know, right?” you replied, trying to match his enthusiasm. “The nerve of some people!”

Sunoo sighed, flopping down onto the couch beside you. “It’s just so frustrating sometimes,” he said, pouting a little. “I mean, who does he think he is?”

You chuckled, bringing him closer to you. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it in a bad way. But honestly, I love how expressive you get about these things.”

“What?” Sunoo asked, a little incredulous.

“I mean, you’re so cute,” you said with a smile, planting a couple of kisses on his cheek. “It’s hard to listen when you’re this adorable.”

“Were you even listening to me complain about him?!” Sunoo protested, trying to sound offended but failing to hide his amusement.

“Of course I was,” you assured him, grinning. “I just got a little distracted by how cute you are.”

He sighed dramatically, though his eyes were sparkling with laughter. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed.”

“Let’s go with flattered,” you teased, giving him one more kiss on the cheek. “Besides, you know I love listening to you.”

“Fine,” Sunoo conceded, finally breaking into a smile. “But, you know I can’t be the only one on the receiving end, right?”

You gave him a questioning look while his smile continued to grow wider. He soon cupped your face, planting a series of kisses on your cheek. Any memory of what he was complaining about was quickly forgotten as he focused entirely on showering you with attention instead.

Sunoo pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you also need to be reminded of how adorable you can be, too.”

JUNGWON — neck kisses

i believe in clingy jwon 🙏 i feel like since he’s always around you, he’d probably do it subconsciously, oblivious to your reddened face until you say something about it. and if you didn’t say anything, i fully believe this man would continue to latch onto you and could stay that way forever … no complaints!

"It's been so long since I've seen you," Jungwon said, walking out of the bedroom and taking a seat at the counter. You hummed, chuckling as you continued cooking one of his favorite meals.

"It's only been a week," you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a smile.

Jungwon sighed dramatically, resting his chin in his hand. “A week without our cuddle time—something you still haven’t given me.”

“Come on, you’re hungry. I have to cook you something, don’t I?” you laughed, shaking your head. “Let me finish, then we can eat and cuddle all you want.”

Jungwon pouted slightly, watching you with a mix of impatience and admiration. “You’re going to take a while…”

You glanced at him with a playful smile. “Patience, my love. You’ll get what you want very soon.”

You heard him hum in response as you continued focusing on the food you were preparing. But you should have known not to take his silence for granted. Before long, Jungwon came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You felt his warmth against your back, and a smile spread across your face. “I told you, just a bit longer,” you said, still stirring the pot.

Jungwon rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “I know, but I couldn’t resist. Your cooking isn’t the only thing I missed.”

You laughed softly, turning your head slightly to look at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he murmured, tightening his embrace. He soon kissed your neck a couple of times, which made you giggle slightly as it was quite ticklish.

“Okay, stop,” you said, trying to suppress your laughter. “You’re going to make me mess up.”

Jungwon pulled back just enough to see your face, a playful smile on his lips. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the slight disruption. “Just wait a little longer. The sooner I finish, the sooner we can cuddle.”

“Alright, I can wait,” Jungwon said, giving you one last gentle kiss near your collarbone. “I’m still going to hug you though.”

“Then what’s the point of waiting,” you chuckled. “Aren’t we practically cuddling right now?”

Jungwon grinned, resting his chin on your shoulder. “True, but it’s not quite the same as when we’re both settled on the couch together.”

You decided not to question him anymore, letting him hug you as you finished cooking. After all, you missed him a lot too and appreciated the closeness.

“Okay then, but no more neck kisses—that’s only going to distract me,” you said with a playful grin.

He tightened his embrace slightly, his breath warm against your neck. “I’ll take it,” he murmured. “I’m just happy to be close to you.”

NIKI — butterfly kisses

i feel like he would have to get used to showing intimacy so he would probably be a little awkward at first. i feel like butterfly kisses are something that suits his teasing tendencies so he does it to get your attention. sooner or later, butterfly kisses have just became something he does often, as he enjoys it and you find it cute as well.

“Ever heard of personal space, Niki?” you said angrily to the guy who had randomly plopped onto you on the couch. Niki just giggled, ignoring your protest, and you sighed, trying to continue watching your show on TV. You knew from experience that scolding him would only encourage him to push your buttons further, so you decided to let him do his thing. After all, he usually got bored and left you alone eventually.

But today, your lack of response seemed to annoy him, and he clearly wasn’t satisfied yet. As you kept your eyes glued to the TV screen, he secretly shifted his position, moving closer until his face was right in front of your neck. He planted his face in the crook of your neck and started fluttering his eyelashes against your skin, giving you butterfly kisses.

You squirmed, trying not to react but finding it increasingly difficult as the tickling sensation spread. “Niki, stop!” you laughed, unable to hold back any longer. “That tickles!”

He pulled back slightly, a mischievous grin on his face. “Finally, a reaction!” he declared triumphantly.

“I was trying to ignore you,” you said, swatting at him playfully. “But you’re way too persistent.”

“Of course I am,” Niki replied, sitting up with a satisfied smile. “I know how to get your attention.”

“Well, now that you have it, what do you want?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Niki leaned back against the couch, pretending to ponder the question. “Hmm, good question. I didn’t really think that far ahead.”

You shook your head, amused. “Typical Niki. You just wanted to annoy me, didn’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, laughing. “But also, I was thinking we could do something more fun than just sitting here watching TV.”

“Like what?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

Niki’s eyes lit up with excitement. “How about we go out for ice cream? My treat!”

You considered it for a moment, then nodded. “I thought you wanted a kiss or something,” you teased. “Alright, ice cream sounds good. But only if you promise not to bug me for the rest of the day.”

Niki chuckled, standing up from the couch. “A kiss would be nice too, but I guess I can settle for ice cream,” he said, giving you a playful wink. “And I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Good,” you said, getting up to join him. “Because I need at least a few hours of peace.”

“Don’t worry,” Niki assured you, holding the door open. “I’ll keep my promise—as long as you don’t change your mind about that kiss.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you followed him out. “You never give up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you.”

💬 — royalty is my song ☝️

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[girlgenius1111]

take care

engen!reader - solstråle ingrid gets injured during a match. sol is overwhelmed with worry. ingrid hates being worried about, and mapi tries to keep her two engens sane. more angst + fluff with my favorite little family.

The knock looked bad from the stands. You were sitting by yourself, your usual game-watching partner unable to attend today. You stood up without thinking about it, craning your neck to see the crumpled heap on the ground that was your sister. Mapi was crouched over her, motioning towards the sidelines in a way that made your stomach clench. As the medics ran out, you looked around, realizing there was no one here to take charge. Somehow, the injured list was empty, so you were sitting without even the quiet company of some of your sister’s teammates. 

You were supposed to wait here until after the game, and then head down to the tunnel to meet Mapi and Ingrid. The security personnel knew you, knew to let you in, especially after the time they didn’t let you into the tunnel, and you kind of freaked out being surrounded by the large crowds flowing from the stadium. Mapi had given the security guards an earful and since then you’d had no issue. It was different now, though, because the match wasn’t over, but Ingrid was still laying on the pitch, and you’d never been so worried in your life. 

Mapi was hovering by the medics, who were crouched around your sister, obstructing your view of her. The Spaniard looked worried, and she never looked worried when Ingrid went down. She’d check on her girlfriend, like a teammate would do. But the concern on María’s face was far from professional, and you swore under your breath, hurrying towards the cement steps of the stadium without another thought. 

You raced through the halls of the stadium, quickly exiting the fan area and nearing the team only area. Your focus was on finding a security guard you knew, on trying to remember where the medical rooms were in here. You didn’t think about Ingrid laying motionless on the pitch, the smack of her head you hadn’t heard but could imagine had been made as she hit the ground. There wasn’t room for you to pause and think and worry, because if you did that, you’d probably crumple up into a ball on the ground and never move again. 

Ingrid wasn’t prone to injuries. Ingrid didn’t stay down longer than absolutely necessary. 

Ingrid was fine. 

Mapi normally went and got water when there was an injury break, normally gave Ingrid space if she was being treated on the pitch. 

You were being absurd. It was just a knock to the head, but your body was reacting like you’d seen Ingrid get hit by a truck, and by the time you made it to the doorway you knew would lead you towards the changing room, you were out of breath for a reason that had nothing to do with the sprint you’d just done. 

Luckily, the security guard stationed there was familiar, looking confusedly at your sudden appearance. 

“Ms. Engen. Everything okay?” 

“I... no, Ingrid got hurt, and I need to-”

The confusion on the man’s face cleared, and he nodded quickly, stepping aside to let you by. Haphazardly thanking him, you zoomed by, coming to a slow stop only a few seconds later as you realized you didn’t really know where you were going. 

You knew the inside of Johan pretty well, but you’d never been to one of the medical rooms, didn’t even know where one would be. You were just about to turn around and ask the security guard for help when you heard a call of your name coming from down the hall. 

“Over here, chica!” Marta called, waving you towards a doorway just across from the changing room hall. You hurried towards her, feeling somewhat better at the sight of Marta’s easy smile. The captain didn’t seem worried at all. 

Reminding yourself to breathe again, you regarded Marta. “Is she okay?”

The brunette nodded. “Maybe a concussion, but she’s alright. She’s finishing up with the physio right now, then you can go in.” 

Relaxing just slightly, you exhaled. “How did you know I-?”

“Ingrid told me to look out for you. As did Mapi, Caro, and Frido.” Marta grinned. 

That made sense, at least. Of course Mapi had thought of you up in the stands right away, knew to make sure someone was looking for you to appear. Frido and Caro, too, though that was more unexpected and made your stomach twist with something between discomfort and appreciation. That they’d thought of you, too… well, you weren’t used to that. Being thought of, especially by so many people. 

You stepped forward, your hand on the door knob before pausing. What if Ingrid didn’t want you in there? You knew that when you got hurt, it was a 50/50 shot whether you wanted your sister or wanted to be left alone. 

“Go on. She wants to see you.” Marta encouraged, gently nudging your back. With her prompting, you opened the door and stepped inside. Ingrid was sitting on the exam table, one of the physios standing in front of her shining one of those pen lights in her eyes. 

“– a concussion for sure,” he was saying. “Probably a few weeks out.”

Ingrid swore, only catching sight of you when the physios stepped away. She gave you a half smile as the physio kept talking, gesturing you closer. 

“You know the drill. Rest, sleep, keep an eye on your symptoms. I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.” He nodded towards you before walking out of the room. 

You hadn’t moved closer when Ingrid had tried to get you to, your eyes still flitting over your sister, as if you had to constantly reassure yourself that she was fine, standing right in front of you. 

“Hi there.” Ingrid greeted calmly, her heart melting at the concerned expression on your face. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, surging forward and wrapping Ingrid in a tight hug. She huffed as your body collided with hers, a small smile on her face. 

“I’m fine, Sol.” She assured you. “Really, just a bit of a headache.” 

You pulled away, skeptically looking at your sister. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” 

It was true; her forehead was already bruising and her eyes squinted as she looked at you, the light bothering her head. It had been a long match, too, and this was clear in the exhausted slump of her shoulders. Still, Ingrid rolled her eyes, lightly shoving at your shoulder. 

“Thanks. I love to hear that.” She got a half smile at that, which she took to be a win. “Alright, come on. You can come with me to get my bag and we can wait for María.” 

Ingrid stood, and even though she seemed pretty steady on her feet, you hovered behind her worriedly, one hand gripping onto the back of her shirt. 

“Sol. I can walk, it’s just a concussion.” Ingrid chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately as you both began to walk together down the long hall. 

You realized that you didn’t know very much about concussions, but you figured there was no such thing as being overcautious, so you stuck close to your sister, even as she slung her arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. Ingrid was like you in the sense that she didn’t like people worrying about her, and she hoped that when Mapi got off the field, the older Spaniard would be able to take charge and make you feel a bit better about the situation, because it was obvious you were stressing. 

And stressing, you would continue to be.

—

“Oh, Sol, can you grab my phone from my bag?” Ingrid requested, taking a bite of her pasta and giving you an innocent smile. You looked at her doubtfully, crossing your arms across your chest as you leaned against the counter. Did she think you were stupid?

Mapi chuckled, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Sí, go get it Sol. And bring it back to me, so I can make sure she doesn’t go on it.”

You smirked, walking out of the room very happy to have something to do. Ingrid deflated, sighing dramatically as took another bite of her dinner. 

“I hate this.” She said grumpily, and Mapi laughed again. The stubborn frown on her girlfriend's face reminded Mapi vividly of you. Ingrid was less obvious about her stubbornness, but you’d picked that trait up from somewhere. 

—

It didn’t matter how much time passed, apparently. It still hurt when you thought of your Mamma, especially when you weren’t expecting to think about her. But you should have been expecting it, because you knew your parents watched all of Ingrid’s matches, would have seen her get hurt. 

Still, when you pulled the phone out of her bag, and the display on Ingrid’s phone showed five missed calls, and ten texts from your Mamma, and a few more of each from your Pappa, it physically ached. 

Your parents were worried about Ingrid, clearly. After a minute, you pulled out your own phone, dropping Ingrid’s bag back onto the bench by the front door, looking at it for the first time since Ingrid had gotten hurt. 

One missed call and three texts from your Mamma. The first time she’d tried to contact you in months. 

Is your sister alright? I saw you in the stands on TV. 

She isn’t answering her phone. 

Just let me know she’s alright when you have a chance. I hope you’re doing okay, kjære. I love you. 

You inhaled deeply, the tornado of emotions inside of you quickly becoming overwhelming. You willed them to quiet down, at least for now. Ingrid was the priority. She always took care of you, and now it was your turn to take care of her. After only a second of hesitation, you quickly replied to your mother, before heading back into the kitchen. 

She’s okay. Just a mild concussion. I’ll tell her to call you when she’s feeling better. 

You knew you were doing the right thing, responding to your Mamma. It was responsible, it was mature. 

That didn’t make it any easier. 

Your Mamma seemed prepared to fly across the continent to get to Ingrid. That was fine, really. That made sense. It was just… why wasn’t she that worried when you got hurt, before? With each passing day, Ingrid and Mapi chipped away at the hold your self hatred had on you. And as each piece crumbled away, something replaced it; a deep confusion. Why? If you were deserving of love, why hadn’t you gotten it? If you weren’t a bad person, why did your Mamma always resent you? It didn’t make sense, and it was this mystery that kept you convinced, even still, that Ingrid was wrong. You weren’t worth much at all. 

You were pretty sure a part of you would always feel like that 16 year old that had finally given up getting her parent’s approval. You thought giving up on that would allow you to stop caring, but you never did. You always felt the gut punch whenever your Mamma would shout at you or ignore you or be disappointed in you. It never stopped hurting, and a part of you would always feel that worthless. 

When you walked back into the kitchen, it seemed as though someone had sucked all the life out of you. There was something disconnected about the way you moved, as though you weren’t really there. It piqued Ingrid and Mapi’s concern instantly, as you handed the Spaniard your sister’s phone. 

Mapi’s confusion faded as she clicked it open, understanding and sadness flickering across her face. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid asked. You jolted out of your stupor, a very fake smile plastering itself onto your face. Ingrid was squinting at you with her face scrunched in pain a bit, and your insistence on being strong only strengthened. 

“Fine! I’m fine.” You assured her, voice cheery and fake. Ingrid looked skeptical, but Scout chose that moment to charge into the kitchen, having likely been napping on your bed. He scampered over to you first, licking your face when you bent down to pet him, before moving to Ingrid, as if he could tell she needed a bit more attention. Your sister pet Scout lovingly, and with her attention elsewhere, you slumped a bit, the weight of your emotions settling squarely back on you. 

And while Ingrid didn’t notice, Mapi certainly did. 

“Okay mi amor, go shower and then we can call it an early night.” Mapi instructed, pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s lips as you grimaced and sighed dramatically. Chuckling, Ingrid agreed, giving Scout one last pet before heading off to shower. 

As soon as Ingrid was out of the kitchen, Mapi turned to you, a sad frown on her face. There were tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes almost instantly, and you shuffled forward into her open arms. 

Mapi hugged you tight for a minute or so, gently rubbing her hand up and down your back. After a few moments, Scout evidently got bored of the lack of attention, or he felt like comforting you himself, because he pushed his way in between you and Mapi, standing awkwardly in between the two of you. This, at least brought a smile to your face, a small laugh escaping you. Mapi pulled away, giving your dog a very fake glare. He just kept wagging his tail and staring up at her. 

“Do you want me to reply to your Mamma?” Mapi wondered gently, her hand finding its way to your shoulder and squeezing. 

“No,” you replied, voice breaking a bit over the word. You cleared your throat, shaking your head just slightly. “No, she texted me and I told her Ingrid was fine and that she’ll call when she’s feeling better.”

María studied you for a minute, the way you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes, the way you shifted uneasily on your feet, as if you wanted nothing more than to run. “Sol, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You insisted. “I just want to make sure Ingrid is okay. Are you sure it’s a good idea she showers by herself? Should we have taken her to the hospital? How often do we have to wake her up tonight? Should she sleep with her head elevated? Is ice good for a concussion? Should she have eaten more? Or eaten less? Does she need to drink extra water? What if–”

Mapi cut off your very long spiral of questions, covering your mouth with her hand. “Tranquilo, Sol. Ingrid is fine. I’ve got her, sí?  I know what to do for a concussion, I’ve got everything taken care of.”

You looked like you didn’t believe her, eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at your mouth. 

Mapi sighed. “Seriously. I’ve got this. I’m just gonna get her an ice pack for her head and some pain killers and try to get her to sleep. You don’t need to worry about anything” 

“But–”

“Nope. Go get ready for bed. I know you were up late last night playing video games.” Mapi was very rarely stern with you, but in this moment, you saw what her opponents must see on the pitch; a borderline scowl, eyebrows scrunched together as she regarded you authoritatively. 

“That’s not true! I went to bed at 11!” You exclaimed, moving towards the stairs anyway. 

Mapi scoffed. “When I came to get Scout for his walk this morning, you’d fallen asleep with your controller in your hand and your headphones on and you only wear those when you play late at night and you only fall asleep playing when you’re up really late.” 

You rolled your eyes, stomping up the stairs without replying to Mapi. Still, there was something so soft about the Spaniard knowing all your habits, something that made the ache in your chest hurt just a little less. 

—

Ingrid wasn’t an easy patient, Mapi knew this. She just seemed to forget because Ingrid so rarely got sick or hurt. It was a struggle to get her girlfriend to take things slow, more than once having to steady the Norwegian when she stood up or moved too fast. Ingrid was clearly in pain, too, but she kept insisting she didn’t need any pain killers, only agreeing once Mapi promised to go get her favorite coffee tomorrow morning. It was shockingly similar to caring for you when you were hurt or ill, which was more than entertaining for Mapi, since Ingrid always complained about how difficult you were in those circumstances. 

But even once Ingrid was peacefully asleep in bed, Mapi knew her job wasn’t done. The Spaniard tucked the blankets up tighter around Ingrid, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. She threw her pajamas on, an old pair of Norway shorts and one of Ingrid’s t-shirts, before surveying the room. The lights were off, Ingrid’s water was full on the nightstand. There was a trashcan next to the bed in case of emergency, and the white noise Ingrid insisted on sleeping with was set to the correct volume. The fan was on the second setting, and Ingrid’s phone was on charge on Mapi’s side of the bed. 

Nodding to herself, Mapi began heading down the hall to where you were almost assuredly still awake. What she wasn’t expecting when she pushed your bedroom door open, though, was to find you crying as you scrolled on your phone. 

“Hey, what’s this cariño?” Mapi said, referencing the tears falling down your face. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, noticing that it was meticulously clean, something you only did when you were anxious. You wiped at your eyes furiously, dropping your phone onto the bed next to you without locking it. Mapi picked it up, worried that your Mamma had dared to message you something that would make you cry. 

You sniffled, unsuccessfully trying to stop your tears, knowing very well that you were being more than ridiculous. Mapi wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at what she found on your phone. On the screen was a google search about concussions, and you’d clicked on a tab of all the potential dangers of a head injury. 

“Sol, don’t google stuff like this.” Mapi told you. “None of this is going to happen.” 

“You don’t know that!” You replied, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. “She hit her head really hard, she could have a delayed brain bleed or she could have hurt her neck or–” 

Mapi wasn’t sure why you were so worked up over something as simple as a concussion, but the urge to laugh at your absurdness had faded, replaced by a deep concern as she realized you were genuinely convinced something bad was going to happen. 

“Solstråle,”

“No, Mapi, you should be in there with her watching her and making sure she’s okay!” You shouted, raising your voice almost unconsciously as you continued to cry through your words. 

“Hey! Don’t shout.” Mapi said, still calm even though you knew she didn’t like to be yelled at. 

You forced yourself to stop pacing for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Mapi watched you silently, trying to determine whether or not you’d accept a hug from her at the moment. Your anger seemed to be fading as quickly as it appeared, your shoulders slumping as you sat heavily back down on the bed. You looked small, suddenly, in Mapi’s oversized tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. You looked like the kid you still very much were, not the adult you tried to be. 

Mapi took a seat next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you to lean against her.

“What’s going on, hmm? Why are you so upset about this?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t like that she’s hurt. It makes me anxious.”

Mapi hummed, her thumb rubbing small circles onto your arm. “How anxious?”

“Very.” You exhaled, leaning into the Spaniard even more. 

Mapi smiled a bit, thinking about just a few months ago, when you would have shied away from any comfort at all. 

“Do you know why?” She wondered. 

“No.” You answered too quickly for her to believe you, and you began fidgeting with your hands in your lap, which was something you only did when you were lying. She didn’t press you, though. Instead, she kissed the top of your head and stood up. 

“Alright. It’s late, your eyes are shutting, you’re exhausted. Go to bed, nena.” 

You merely shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Mapi in a way that told her you were going to be doing anything but going to bed. The Spaniard sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose in between her fingers. 

“How can I get you to sleep, Sol?” 

You thought for a moment, before a small smile tugged at your lips and you looked up at Mapi much too earnestly. You told her your idea, and much as she wanted to say no, she knew you really wouldn’t sleep otherwise. So, she relented, and you grabbed your pillow and a blanket [and Scout], and followed Mapi down the hall to their room. 

—

Ingrid woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. With a groan, she rolled onto her side, hand searching for Mapi to grab onto. Her girlfriend shifted down from where she’d been sitting up in bed, allowing Ingrid to burrow into her chest. 

“How are you feeling, mi amor?” 

“Like I’m dying.” Ingrid sighed dramatically. 

“Dying?!” You cried, sitting bolt upright from where you had been laying on the floor next to Ingrid’s bed. She rolled over to look at you, wincing at the pain she felt from the movement, blinking a few times as if she thought she was hallucinating. 

“Did you sleep on the floor?” Ingrid asked incredulously. 

Still borderline frantic, you nodded your head. “Yes. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Ingrid was silent for a second, looking between you and Mapi, completely bewildered. “Sol, why did you sleep on the floor?” 

“Don’t bother, amor. Answer her question first.” Mapi sighed, reclining back against the headboard and shutting her eyes. 

Ingrid huffed her frustration. “I’m alright, Sol. Why did you sleep on the floor?”

You frowned up at her. “I was worried. Google said the first 24 hours of a concussion are the most important, and I know Mapi is a heavy sleeper, so I just wanted to make sure-”

“Sol, that isn’t your job. I’m fine. You shouldn’t have done that, you have school today, you’re going to be exhausted and sore.” Her tone was more sharp than she intended it to be and she felt immediate guilt at the look of hurt that flashed across your face. 

“Sorry.” You said sharply, getting up and gathering your pillow and your blanket and hastily walking out of the room. 

Ingrid flopped back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to make her upset.” 

Mapi kissed her temple tenderly. “I know. She’s just worried, and I think you embarrassed her a little. She was going to stay home from school to look after you.” 

“She shouldn’t have to do that.” Ingrid argued. 

Mapi spoke slowly, like Ingrid was missing the point. “She wants to. She’s really anxious about this, Ingrid. She was pacing around her room last night googling concussions trying to figure out how to help. She just wants to make sure you’re okay, like you do for her.” 

Ingrid felt her heart melt a little. She forgot, sometimes, how sensitive you were, how much of a worrier. You kept so much inside that it was always a bit startling to see you express yourself so outwardly. She moved to get up from the bed, but Mapi’s arms remained locked around her midsection. 

“María, I need to go talk to her.” 

“No. You stay here, I’ll go talk to her.” 

“I’m not staying in bed all day.” Ingrid grumbled, fighting back a smile as Mapi kissed her cheek once, then twice more. 

“No, of course not.” Mapi agreed. “You can lay down on the couch, too.” 

Ingrid groaned, slumping back onto the bed and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate this.” She called. 

“I know! Mapi replied, shaking her head at her girlfriend’s dramatics. 

—

Mapi knocked on your door, hearing a huff that she assumed meant she could come in. You were stuffing your things into your school bag, angry tears tracking down your face. 

“Sol, stop for a second.” 

“No, I’m going to be late.” 

“Solstråle.” 

“Go away, Mapi.” 

“No, stop it.” Mapi said, more firmly this time. She took your bag out of your hands, attempting to hold it out of your reach. You glared at her, lower lip trembling as you did so. “You can stay home. I talked to Ingrid.” 

“She doesn’t want me to stay home.” You choked out, humiliated at how upset this was making you. 

Mapi looked at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on your shoulder. “She does, she just doesn’t want you to worry. Just like you don’t like us to worry about you.” 

“No, she doesn’t want me here.” You argued, finally ripping your bag away from Mapi and slinging it over your shoulder. Mapi almost commented on the fact that you were very clearly still wearing your pajamas, and that school didn’t start for another hour, but another voice cut in before she could. 

“I do want you here, sweetheart. I just don’t want you worrying about me.” 

Both you and Mapi turned to face Ingrid amusingly fast. 

“Ingrid, I told you to stay in bed!” Mapi chided good naturedly, knowing how much her girlfriend hated to be babied. 

“Sol-”

“Go lay down, Ingrid. I’m fine.” You pleaded, the redness of your eyes and the wobble of your chin not helping your statement. 

Your sister ignored you, crossing the room in two long strides and pulling you into an almost painfully tight hug. Mapi stepped out of the room, knowing that this was one of your Engen moments, where you really just wanted your sister. 

“No, Sol. I’m fine.” Ingrid told you, her fingers scratching lightly at your scalp where her hand rested. 

You sniffled, pressing your face further into her shoulder, as if to assure yourself that she was really there. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. I’m okay. Everything is okay.” Ingrid promised, pausing for a moment before she extracted herself from the hug and led you to sit on the edge of your bed next to her. She gave you a second to calm down, still crying softly into her shoulder, as she took in the sight of your room. The framed photo of the three of you on your desk. The polaroids up on the wall, all taken at the top of a hike you’d completed. The map that Mapi had given you, and the painting of the waterfall in Norway. 

Ingrid didn’t like to see you cry. But your tears, just like the things decorating your room, showed that you were feeling things. Not like before, when it was difficult to even get you to explain how your day was in more than two words. You felt safe to feel here. Safe to be vulnerable. 

So, she didn’t like the tears. But everytime she saw you cry, she thanked the universe that you were still here with her to cry, still willing to push your face into her shoulder and grip onto her shirt with your fist like you’d done when you were little. She’d never take that for granted. Ever. 

She didn’t take her responsibility to care for you lightly, either. 

“What’s going on, Solstråle? Why are you so worried?” 

Again, it was that magic ability Ingrid had to get you to admit things you normally never would. Instead of brushing your sister off like you’d done to Mapi the night before, you sucked in a breath and tried to explain the absolute mess of feeling inside of you.

“Do you ever… feel like things are too good? Like everything is going so well. And you’re happy, but you aren’t sure you deserve to be. So something bad must be about to happen to ruin it all? It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s too good to be true, and I’m so scared, all the time, that I’m going to do something to mess everything up, or something bad is going to happen.”

Ingrid wasn’t really quite sure what to say to that. Whether it was because her head was pounding with an incessant headache, or because she’d truly never felt the way that you were describing right now, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that you needed reassurance that no one was going to come and take away your happiness. 

“You deserve to be happy. You’ve been through so much, Sol, and you deserve to be happy. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from you. Ever. It’s not too good to be true. No shoe is going to drop. Nothing bad is going to happen and you’re not going to mess anything up. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you so much, Solstråle, and no one could ever take that away. Nothing could ever stop me from loving my baby sister.” 

Ingrid felt tears soaking through the fabric of her shirt, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. Still, she kept running her hand up and down your back, keeping you held close to her. She wouldn’t be the first one to pull away. 

“I… I want to believe that. I just don’t know how to stop being scared. I don’t know how to convince my brain that nothing bad is going to happen.” 

“I don’t really know either.” Ingrid hummed. “But we’ll figure it out together, no?” 

You nodded, feeling absurdly emotional at the together part. 

“And anytime you feel scared, you tell me or Mapi. And I’ll be rational and give you a hug and Mapi can make a joke so bad you have no choice but to laugh, and she’ll be happy because her goal was just to distract you anyway.” 

You let out a weak laugh, leaning away from your sister to wipe at your face with your sleeve. 

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll try.” 

Ingrid smiled at you. “Good. Now come downstairs with me. We’re going to put on a reality TV show and you’re going to describe everything happening on screen because I can’t watch.” 

You laughed again, standing and following your sister out of your room. You held onto her arm as she walked down the stairs, and Ingrid let you. Sometimes, she couldn’t fix things right away. She’d let you hover, and in time, you’d realize she was alright and you’d be okay. 

Or, she’d have to climb out the window in the middle of the night and run away to Frido’s just to get away from your and Mapi’s hovering. Either way. 

—

:) i love my child sol.

[verxca]

Hiii I maybe something with Jason who was recently injured nothing serious but enough to put him out of commission for a few days but for these few days the reader has been doing everything ,picking up his responsibilities,doing things for him and he realizes that it’s taking a toll on her so he persuades her to rest along side him

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #03 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which you tire yourself out for jason after he’d been hit with an injury, and he eases you into slowing down with him when he notices your stress.

On a typical day, you and Jason split tasks equally. Despite his rampant life of crime outside on the city streets of Gotham, he was still very domestic and responsible when back at your place. You would usually cook a nice dinner to share - He’d sweep the floors - And you’d always take a romantic hot shower together afterwards.

Despite your combined efforts, not everything remained completely equilibrated. You knew he was at a disadvantage… and you would be lying if you said you weren’t worried sick every day and night when he parts. Your stress was only fortified when he came home late one day with a sprained ankle!

“Jason… You need to rest, okay? I’m not letting you out the house like this. Please.” His eyebrows furrowed, a pain clenching his heart at your worry. “Okay- okay.” He nods reluctantly, hugging you.

You took extra care of him that night just to make sure; making his favourite food, doing all his laundry, cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, etc. You didn’t mind it, in fact, you liked taking care of Jason. He ushered you into bed afterwards, though.

Yet as the days continued on, more and more tasks got lifted onto your shoulders simultaneously. Even after Jason was forced to relax (reluctantly… the task of convincing him to stay in bed was probably the hardest of all), you still ran around the apartment. More papers you had to write, more errands you had to run, and more tasks you had to complete for Jason’s health and wellbeing piled up in the matter of hours and days.

You were currently finishing up an extra load of landry, packing your towels into the broom cupboard. Shit! You had forgotten to make dinner, too! Your gaze shifts towards the stove top, the time reading half past eight. You contemplate on what to make, and if you even wanted to make it in the first place. But then again, Jason… He was still recovering, and needed to build his strength back up. It’d be best if you made something small— You could have the leftovers.

You rush back into your shared bedroom to ask what he was up for, noticing quickly that he was already seated up on the bed— waiting for you in a manner. “You know you don’t have to do all this shit, babe, right?” You pause, standing in the doorway.

“Sorry?” Jason pauses, before starting up again. “This- I mean, you’re killing your self here, hon. You’re gonna’ work yourself to death doing too much for me. I’ve been seeing you run around all day.” You frown, taking a second to look back on everything. Sure, it’d been stressful, but you were just trying to help him, is all. After a second you walk over, sitting next to your lover on the duvet. His expression was evidently worried— Eyes flashing with love as he put a comforting hand on your knee.

“I’m just trying to help, Jay-” You explain, not really knowing how to put it into words, or even what to say for that matter. You just wanted to be a good, responsible girlfriend. “I know, I know, but you gotta relax too, yeah? If you managed to convince me to rest, then I sure as hell can convince you too.”

A chuckle almost immediately escaped your lips, and you nod after understanding his words. “This isn’t about some domestic shit, is it?” You pause, thinking. Maybe it was… again, you just wanted to take care of your boyfriend. Cleaning, cooking— They were common tasks, but still. On top of all that extra work, it was practically impossible to complete alone, let alone stay in a healthy mindset while running around.

He had to be right after all… plus, cuddling in bed sounded nice for the both of you right now. “Let’s order out, then watch a movie, okay?” You try to protest, but Jason had already pulled you into a kiss.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

[wstviewvidal]

boulevardier- w. maximoff

pairing: rich!wanda x r

summary: sparks fly at a chance encounter

a/n: first part of dirty cash!! i finished this early december but i was so nervous to post it but i don’t want to keep yall waiting any longer. i hope yall like it!

dirty cash masterlist

next part

minors do not interact

looking over at your friend, you give her a glare as you watch her mingle with some potential business partners. being dragged to a fundraising banquet as your friend’s plus one was a way you did not want to spend your saturday evening. especially a night that is full of rich privileged people— a place that you surely don’t feel you belong.

“but you owe me from when you needed me to bail you out of that date a few weeks ago, remember?” was what she told you— and it was true.

the said date went downhill in record time, not even lasting a full thirty minutes before you had your friend call with a fake emergency. your date continuously went on and on about the state of the economy and how people should be investing in stocks to grow wealth rather than focusing on a day job.

needless to say, your friend pulled through and gave an overly convincing act to get you out of there quickly.

your friend is now immersed in a discussion with a man in a suit, probably trying to win him over in hopes to find an investor for her small business. you slip away quietly and let her work her charm.

walking around the banquet hall, you admire the decorations and the ambiance, something you’re not used to being around. you watch as women walk around in either suits or beautiful dresses, you can’t help but admire and feel a little out of place. you’re not used to the flashy life that the people here live— you’ve never had the ample opportunities that the people in this room have had. feeling a sense of jealousy and insecurity run through your veins, you try to snap out of it. it’s not healthy and you know it, but you can’t help but wish you’d be in their shoes.

sighing softly to yourself, you you find a vacant seat at the open bar and order a drink while you people watch. you can hear the live music playing, the chatter of everyone’s conversations, clinking of champagne glasses, the expensive laughter.

imagining your life in their shoes while you nurse your cocktail is how you spend the next few minutes occupying your time.

“is it any good?” you hear a smooth, confident voice ask beside you.

glancing over, you’re met with a dark haired woman with captivating green eyes smiling at you— the kind that disarms you before you even realize it. you smile back and shrug a bit, “it’s a drink. i needed one.”

you joke, now looking over at her well tailored suit and dark makeup. she’s beautiful.

chuckling subtly, “i’d ask you how your night is going, but based off of that sentence— i think i know how it’s going so far. i’m wanda, it’s nice to meet you.” she puts her hand out for a handshake, the glint in her eyes showing her amusement in the introduction.

her hand is warm when you shake it and you can smell a hint of expensive perfume as she gets closer to you to sit in the seat next to you. she speaks with confidence and an alluring charm.

you introduce yourself and laugh, “i didn’t mean any bad by it, it’s just not my.. environment,” you gesture to the crowd around you, “the rich pretentious crowd, it all seems fake to me. dressing up in your finest jewels just to fake altruistic behavior.. it’s not real to me.”

perhaps the drink was already getting to you. maybe that’s the reason you’re letting out a word spill to the beautiful woman who just wanted to know if your paloma was good.

or maybe it’s the way she giggled along with a small nod of her head as you spoke your mind. either way, she wasn’t put off by your tangent. in fact, she continued to sit with you and entertained your preferred topic of discussion for the next few minutes.

wanda watches you with an amused smile on her face. her eyes linger a bit longer on your lips longer than they should.

“fake altruism, huh? what would make it real?” she asks, with a small tilt of her head. her eyes squint the tiniest bit, her grin showing genuine interest. her voice is inquisitive, almost like she’s trying to probe you for something.

had you gone too far? you hesitate to respond, realizing you’ve possibly offended her— wondering if you’ve crossed a line. instead, wanda’s smiling and leaning into you as she wants to hear more.

noticing your slight hesitation, “you know, not a lot of people have the guts to say that. i really like it,” she chuckles softly. wanda looks over your features with a small smile as you move on to talk animatedly about your line of work. she’s enamored by how you’re wearing your emotions on your sleeve— something she struggles with.

you catch yourself, “i’m so sorry, wanda. i’ve been talking at you this whole time.” you inwardly cringe at how you’ve been holding her up with your rambling.

she shakes her head and puts her whiskey down on the bar gently, “no, please, i’m enjoying you. this is quite possibly the most entertainment i’ve had all night so far.” she puts a comforting hand on your forearm that’s resting on the bar in a comforting approach, she’s giving you a genuine smile. her gesture lasts a second too long, her gaze feeling a bit more personal than it needs to be.

“what are you here for?” you shake your head and change the subject to her, wanting to know more about her and why she’s still here wanting to be with you.

her eyes flicker towards the crowd and she hesitates for a moment, almost debating whether or not to be honest with you, “i’m just here for work, requirement by the job.” she shrugs and avoids eye contact, switching the subject back to you. she plays with the rim of her cup, not quite giving you her undivided attention like she just was.

weird.

you don’t spend too much time on it, not wanting to push her away. “i’m here for my friend. she recently started a new business and is hoping to find an investor here, make a good connection.”

you tell her as you gesture to your friend who’s now moved onto her next target of the night. she’s speaking with a woman this time, half interested in what she’s talking about.

wanda nods and follows to where your gesturing, “hm, i’ll have to check her out later.”

you two laugh and talk about different topics over the next ten minutes— ambitions you two have, where you two went to school, where you want to travel. the conversation is lighthearted but the both of you are enjoying the other’s presence.

shaking her head with a laugh, “paris is overrated. you’ll spend more time in traffic than seeing the eiffel tower.”

she watches your expression with a teasing smirk as she says this. she can tell paris is the one place you have always wanted to go to, but she wants to rile you up a bit. pure enjoyment is written on her face as she watched your face contort in mock and offense.

scoffing and looking at her with an incredulous glance, “so tell me where you’d recommend since you’re so well travelled.”

you place your chin in your hand as you await her response. your eyes are slightly glazed over and wanda can’t help but melt at the way the lights are reflecting in your eyes.

wanda grins at your tease, “vienna. no contest. it’s beautiful, and the pastries there will ruin everywhere else for you. you need to go if you ever find the opportunity.” she’s gazing at you intently as you take in her words, the way you’re nodding along to what’s she’s saying with genuine intrigue.

you are just about to respond right as a man taps her on the shoulder and says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. he leans in with a hint of impatience and you can see how wanda’s posture goes rigid and her jaw tightens.

wanda grimaces and lets out an exasperated sigh, “i’m sorry. they’re calling me for work. i’ll try to find you after, okay? please don’t leave until i see you again. i’d hate to lose my best conversation of the night.”

she gets up from her chair and gives your shoulder a squeeze, lingering a bit longer than needed, her thumb brushes against your skin. she smiles at you warmly just before she takes off in the direction of the man.

you watch as she leaves, noticing how people look in her direction with a hint of awe as she walks past. it makes sense since she had you wrapped around her finger in such a short amount of time.

you leave the bar to find your friend, glancing in the direction wanda left with a love struck smile on your face.

you find her and ask how the networking went. she lets out a sigh of content, “i can’t believe i got to talk to so many people! i gave them all my buriness card and i hope they’ll get in contact with me sometime this week.”

you nod along as she speaks, but subtly looking around the room for any glimpse of the well dressed brunette who had you captivated as soon as she spoke to you.

“did you meet anyone? you’ve been cooped up at the bar all night,” your friend asks as she nudges your shoulder playful with a grin.

rolling your eyes, “actually, yeah. i was talking to a woman, she seems sweet.”

your friends eyes lighten up and she grabs your arm with a small squeal. you laugh at her excitement about your (potentially) blossoming love life. she has continuously tried to set you up on dates in the past, but it never works out.

you groan and cringe, “i know, i know, but remember that i just met her and we don’t even know if-“

your friend shushes you with a stern look, “stop, look! that’s the ceo, the one i told you about earlier i hope i can get in with. she sponsors and invests in a lot of companies and schools. if i can get in with her, it’s like winning the lottery.”

you furrow your eyebrows and turn around to face the stage she’s pointing you to. it takes you a second to find a gap to look in between the bodies in front of you.

and there she is— wanda. your wanda. only now, there she is smiling in all her glory, waving at the crowd that is now forming in front of the stage. the faintest smile on her lips as she gently waves to the crowd.

“oh my god,” your blood runs cold and you freeze in place. you look over at your friend with a terrified look, eyebrows pulling together and eyes wide.

heat rushes to your face and you begin to replay every word you’d said to her at the bar. did she think you were mocking her? your hands begins to clench in nervousness and you want the ground to swallow you whole.

you messed up.

your friend looks at you with a confused look, then pieces it together slowly as she gauges your facial expressions. “oh my god,” she grabs your arm, “oh my god!”

people around look at you two, some shushing you with judgemental looks on their faces. she giggles and mouths, ‘no way.’

she’s filled with excitement at the potential in, you’re filled with dread and embarrassment as you mule over the fact that you complained about this event to wanda. wanda maximoff, the ceo of maximoff industries— founder and organizer of the charity event you’re attending.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you try to hide behind your friend as wanda speaks.

“good evening, everyone,” she stands tall and poised, her voice steady and confident, “thank you all for being here tonight. together, we all share a common goal: to invest in the future by supporting the education of our children.”

you muffle out wanda’s words as you try your best to stand still and not make any sudden movement. maybe if you’ll suddenly become invisible if you stand still enough.

unbeknownst to you, wanda was trying her hardest to spot you in the crowd. unfortunately, the stage lights kept her from being able to clearly see beyond the podium.

you feel queasy and lightheaded as you quickly walk to the restroom. you lean against the sink and try to steady your breathing as much as you can. of course you would somehow offend a ceo at their own event.

you groan as you force yourself to suck up your ego and walk back out into the now booming crowd.

you try to keep a low profile as you walk parallel to the wall— the last thing you want is to offend someone else here.

“there you are,” wanda walks up to you with a two glasses of champagne in her hand. she hands one to you with a smile, “i thought you left me.”

you take the glass with a polite smile, then cringing inwardly as you remember your word vomit at the bar. “listen, wanda, i’m so sorry about what i said. the event is beautiful and i love what you’re doing for the community. it’s amazing, really.”

the words come out rushed and wanda can see a flush on your cheeks. she chuckles softly and shakes her head, “hey, you’re okay. it’s okay. i didn’t take any offense, in fact, i really admire your honesty. it’s rare that i get that nowadays. you really.. stood out tonight.”

you groan and avert your eyes from her. she looks you over and admires you silently. she wants to laugh at your now embarrassed demeanor, a stark contrast to your extroverted energy at the bar.

she realizes she’s been looking at you for too long , clearing her throat and bringing the champagne up to her lips. she looks over the rim at you, trying to be as subtle as possible. your side profile is illuminated by the string lights on the ceiling, your eyes twinkling a bit more than before. perhaps the alcohol now settling in your blood stream? or maybe the fact that wanda actively sought you out after her speech.

you turn to wanda with a small sigh, “are you sure you’re not offended?” you play with the bracelet on your left wrist to try and ground yourself. you feel horrible and uncomfortable in her presence now.

wanda placed a warm hand on your forearm with a gentle look, “i promise. i mean, maybe don’t write off an event before you know what it’s about. people can surprise you, you know?”

wanda’s voice is teasing but soft and comforting. her eyes show no sign of telling a lie and you let out a small laugh at the situation. wanda nudges you with her shoulder softly as she goes to stand next to you.

for a split second, you want to throw caution to the wind and get to know her. you want to ask personal questions— hope there’s something more there.

but you don’t get the chance to. the same man who pulled her away earlier is now speaking into her ear and you can see how irritated she quickly gets with what he’s saying. nodding at what he says, she turns to you with an apologetic look on her face.

“it was refreshing talking to you,” she wants to say more, wants to offer to get you another drink— but she can’t, “take care of yourself, okay?”

and just like that, she’s gone into the crowd. maybe this wasn’t meant to continue on past tonight. maybe meeting wanda was just meant to be a chance encounter.

your friend walks up to you with a furrowed brow, “you’re seriously going to just let her leave?”

you can see the subtle hint of frustration on her face, the wild gesturing in wanda’s direction making it evident she wasn’t happy that you let her leave.

shrugging softly, “i’m sure she’s got better things to do.”

your voice is soft as you stare at wanda speaking with a group of people. she’s got an effortless grace and charm to her, something you don’t have.

following your friend to the exit, you try to push back the thought of wanda and the ‘what if.’

but the memories of her lingering touches, the laughs at your jokes, her soft smiles are now engraved into your mind. you don’t expect to see her again, but a part of you so desperately wishes you could.

[soy-soi-si]

Leona, Azul, Idia, Floyd, Jack, Rook, and Sebek with a Fem! Reader who texts to try and get more cuddles.

Leona

He was just dealing with practice not actually doing anything since Vargas was off fuckin around with track and he was just making the rest do a final work out he himself tired sweaty and fucking peeved when his phone buzzes.

He pulls it out expecting it to be some shit from Cheka stealing his brother's phone again for the sixth time today. Then he spots the name and he immediately opens it.

「wheer are u」

He takes a second before smiling imagining y/n half asleep in his bed where he left her.

「practice, you just wake up?」

He barely pays any mind to the group running laps panting like dogs.

「cmoe bavk im lpnely」

Leona can barely resist the urge to get up and fly straight to the dorm on his broom.

「give me a sec」

He looks up at the group hissing in a breath as his tail sways, “That's enough we're done for the day!” immediately he gets up grabbing his shit before walking off to go take a shower before going to the dorm.

Azul

Azul was just dealing with some contractors' study guides when his phone buzzed. He didn't even hear it the first time, or he equated it to Floyd sending another meme. Then it buzzed again, and again though pretty spaced apart by probably fifteen seconds. He got annoyed by the sound quickly grabbing his phone to see who's interrupting his concentration.

Then it immediately goes away at the nickname he put as y/n’s contact info. His beautiful pearl and he opens it taking a second to lean back.

「azzy」

「why’d you leave me」

「i'm coming to the lounge for cuddles」

He pauses remembering he left her at ramshackle after she fell asleep during lunch on him.

「alright, I'll see you soon」

Azul opens jades number calling him who immediately answers him. “Yeah?” “y/n’s coming to the lounge if you see her just send her straight to my room since I'm busy.” “Alright.”

Idia

Idia for once left his room just to retrieve more snacks for him and y/n when the text chimed through his music causing him to jump before fumbling with his phone and the grocery bag of snacks to see it was y/n and he immediately sighs in relief before glancing around then opening it.

「come back」

His hair turns pink before he texts her back.

「omw」

If he wasn't out of shape, he would've run back to his dorm room.

Floyd

Floyd was just playing on his phone skipping out on practice again since it got boring a little over halfway through, he's just sitting on the sidelines as the rest of them play. He hates how he smells but he can't go into the locker room because it smells worse there. He's just waiting until Vargas finally airs it out when the text comes.

「it's cold come back.」

His eyes light up since he's currently sweating from the heat. And he practically jumps up bolting out of the gym back to his room where his sleepy girlfriend is.

Jack

Hes finishing up with his cactuses in the main area of Savanaclaw when his phone buzzes. And he pulls it out just opening the text expecting it to be ruggie again asking him to grab something.

「babe, where did you goo」

His tail immediately begins wagging dusting the floor as he's kneeling down.

「I’m just in the common area」

Immediately she texts him back and he turns red.

「come back I want my boyfriend to cuddle me」

Rook

He probably went out to stalk Leona or some unsuspecting merman. And as he's sitting in a tree his phone buzzes. He pulls it out quickly spotting y/n's name so he opens it sparing a few glances to his prey who is not going to move anytime soon. Then he spots the picture of her laying in his bed on her stomach clearly tired as she looks into the camera.

「come here」

Rook immediately abandons his objective to go see the domestic beauty in his very own bed he denied his full attention.

Sebek

Sebek was just standing by Malleus when silver showed Malleus his phone. Malleus pauses for a moment before chuckling, turning to sebek who's clearly not amused by silver pulling out his phone at all near waka-sama. “Sebek, you're free to go to y/n. I’m going to retire for the night.” Malleus stands up waving the boy off as he and Silver walk away, leaving him confused.

「I want cuddles I'm lonely」

[harrysfolklore]

i’ve always loved the piastri sis lore because the sibling dynamic is so healthy but just to switch it up a little bit in the tiny verstappen!sis universe i can imagine her skipping out on the WDC celebrations with max and be with charles instead and max is a little mad at her at qatar until kelly knocks sense into him 🥰

verstappen!sister was one of the first f1 fics i ever posted 🥺🥺 its kinda heartwarming that you guys still remember it and want to read more about them! it was nice to take a dip into that little world agai, i hope you like this!

READ VERSTAPPEN!YN HERE

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred through as you rushed through the paddock, your heart torn between two directions. Behind you, the thunderous celebration at Red Bull's garage continued – your brother Max had just sealed his fourth world championship. Any other day, you'd be right there, spraying champagne and screaming until your voice gave out.

But right now, all you could think about was Charles.

You found him in the Ferrari cooldown room, still in his race suit, head in his hands. He looked up when you entered, those green eyes stormy with frustration.

"Mon coeur," he whispered, and despite his evident pain, his lips curved into a small smile at the sight of you. "You're here."

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply. "Of course I'm here. Always."

"I had it," he mumbled against your skin. "I had the pace, the position... everything. Then they called me in at the worst possible moment—" His voice cracked slightly.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know, baby. I watched the whole thing."

Charles pulled back slightly, cupping your face with both hands. "You should be celebrating with Max, though. It's his championship. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You're not taking me anywhere," you said firmly, pressing your forehead to his. "I choose to be here."

He kissed you softly, gratefully. "Je t'aime. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you smiled against his lips. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As you were leaving the cooldown room, hand in hand with Charles, you nearly collided with Max in the corridor. Your brother was still in his race suit, championship cap askew, smelling of champagne and victory.

"YN?" His voice was smaller than usual. "Where were you? Everyone was asking... we were all celebrating and you just disappeared."

Guilt twisted in your stomach. "Max, I'm so sorry, I—"

"She was with me," Charles said quietly, squeezing your hand.

Max's face fell slightly, though he tried to hide it. "Oh." He looked between you both, jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. "I thought... it's the championship, YN. Our fourth championship."

"I know," you said, stepping forward to hug him tightly. "And I'm so, so proud of you. You were incredible out there. But Charles needed me."

Max returned the hug, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders. When he pulled back, his expression was complicated – hurt mixed with resignation.

"Sure, whatever. Stay with your boyfriend." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "It's fine. Not like it's my fourth world championship or anything."

The sarcasm in his voice cut deep. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Charles standing in the corridor.

The next morning, you found Max in the hotel gym, pounding away at a treadmill despite probably being hungover from the celebrations. You knew your brother well enough to recognize when he was working out his frustrations physically.

"Max," you called out softly.

He didn't look at you, just kept running. "Shouldn't you be with Charles?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

He jabbed at the treadmill controls, slowing to a stop. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was guarded. "About what? About how you ditched your own brother's championship celebration to comfort your boyfriend? Because he finished P4?" He grabbed his towel, wiping his face roughly. "Real nice, sister."

"That's not fair and you know it."

"Kelly already gave me the whole speech last night, you know," he said, "Something about 'understanding love' and 'being supportive' and how she'd do the same for me."

"And?"

"And I told her she's supposed to be on my side," he said, but there was less heat in his voice than before. "She just laughed at me."

You sat down on a nearby bench, and after a moment, he joined you. "I'm still mad," he admitted. "And it's still weird as hell that my sister is dating Charles bloody Leclerc of all people."

"Could be worse," you tried. "Could've been Lewis."

"Don't even joke about that," he groaned, but you caught the tiny smile he tried to hide. His face turned serious again. "Kelly made some good points though. About how she'd choose to be with me if I was struggling after a race, even if it meant missing something important. Still doesn't mean I like it."

"I really am sorry about disappearing like that."

"I wanted my sister there," Max's voice cracked slightly. "You've been there for every important moment in my career. Every single one. Until yesterday. It's like ever since you started dating him, I'm losing my little sister bit by bit."

"You're not losing me, Max. You're my brother, nothing will ever change that. But Charles...I love him."

Max was quiet for a long moment. "You really love him that much? It's that serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "It is."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I still don't like it. And I'm still mad about yesterday." He paused, then added grudgingly, "But I guess I need to get used to sharing you. Just... don't disappear on me like that again, okay? I had to listen to Helmut asking if you were sick or something. Do you know how awkward it was explaining that my sister was too busy consoling a Ferrari driver to celebrate with us?"

"Did you actually tell him that?"

"No, I told him you had a headache. You're welcome, by the way." He paused. "But seriously, YN. I get that you love him or whatever—" he made a face at the words, "—but you're still my sister."

"And you're still my annoying big brother," you leaned against his shoulder. "So... fourth championship, huh? Getting a bit boring now, isn't it?"

"Never," he grinned, then added more seriously, "Would've been better with you there though."

"I'll make it up to you. Plus, there's still family dinner tonight."

"Yeah, about that..." Max's expression turned mischievous. "I might have told Mom to make that really spicy Indonesian dish Charles couldn't handle last time."

"Max!"

"What? If he's going to be family, he needs to build up his tolerance," he said innocently. "Besides, it's payback for making me miss my sister at my championship celebration."

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, but I'm a four-time world champion impossible brother," he smirked, pulling you into a headlock like when you were kids. "And don't you forget it."

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER | MV1

an: can you tell i have an amazing music taste, anyway i’m finishing up a lot of my wips this weekend therefore be ready for a bit of stuff to come out!! i need to update my master list

warnings: domestic abuse, religious themes obvs

wc: 10.2k

Max was never one for church.

Never believed in any of that.

But God, would he get on his knees for a girl.

He couldn’t even remember when he first saw her—it was like she’d always been there, glowing in a way that made his chest tighten and his palms itch to touch what he had no business reaching for.

She was perfect in that untouchable kind of way. Always smiling, always polite. The kind of girl who said "please" and "thank you" without sounding fake. She had a laugh that could make angels jealous and a silver cross around her neck that caught the light just right, like some divine shield.

And Max? He was everything she wasn’t. Grease under his nails, a cigarette always tucked behind his ear, and a devil-may-care attitude that had sent half the town clutching their pearls. He’d been watching her for weeks now, maybe months. The way she walked, her little rituals—Bible study on Wednesday nights, choir practice on Saturdays, and the absolute certainty that she’d be on her family’s porch every evening at seven, helping her mom snap beans or some other domestic chore that Max couldn’t wrap his head around.

She didn’t belong in his world. Hell, she probably didn’t even know it existed. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. No, needing her.

It was the way she looked so... pure, he supposed. Untouched by the grime and shadows he carried around like second skin. And it wasn’t just her innocence he wanted to wreck. It was the thought of making her his—really his. Of seeing her in his world, in his trailer, on his bike, wearing his marks, not that dainty little cross that probably smelled of Sunday mornings and lavender soap.

Max didn’t follow her. Not exactly. But he always seemed to know where she’d be, and tonight wasn’t any different. Wednesday night Bible study. He parked his beat-up car down the street from the little white church, hidden enough to keep from drawing attention. Not that anyone would think twice—it wasn’t like he blended in with the choir crowd.

The stained-glass windows glowed softly, warm light spilling out into the cool evening air. He could hear the faint hum of voices, maybe a hymn being sung, as he leaned back against the hood of his car and waited. He lit another cigarette, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

When the front doors finally swung open, he straightened, tossing the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under his boot. She was the last to leave, as he knew she would be. Everyone else had trickled out in pairs and groups, chatting and laughing as they headed home. But she stayed behind, always locking up on her own.

Tonight, she was struggling with a box full of what looked like hymnals and Bible study materials, juggling it while trying to fit the key into the heavy wooden doors. Max could see the way her fingers fumbled, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Before he could think better of it, he started across the street. The click of his boots on the pavement caught her attention, and she turned her head sharply, her soft eyes widening as she saw him.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking from his face to the box in her arms and then back again. He noticed how she clutched it tighter, like she wasn’t sure if she should trust him.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. “I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, stepping closer. Before she could protest, he reached out and took the box from her. Their fingers brushed, and the contrast hit him like a punch to the gut. Her hands were soft, smooth, and clean, while his were rough, calloused, and stained with grease that never seemed to wash off.

“Thanks,” she said reluctantly, looking up at him. He noticed how small she seemed compared to him, how her cross caught the light even in the dark.

“You’re the boy that fixes Daddy’s car,” she said after a beat. “From the shop in town.”

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Didn’t know you knew me.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just… heard Daddy talking about you. Said you do good work.”

He smirked at that, carrying the box like it weighed nothing and setting it gently down beside her. “Guess I’m a little famous, then.”

She laughed softly, and it was the kind of sound that made something deep in his chest tighten. She reached for her key again, this time managing to lock the doors without the box in her way.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, stepping back and brushing her hands against her skirt.

“Anytime,” he replied, his grin widening. He leaned against the doors, watching her as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she were about to answer, but then she shook her head. “I should go. My family will be waiting.”

And just like that, she was walking away, her head held high, her skirt swaying gently with each step.

Max watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his grin fading into something darker, more determined.

“See you around,” he muttered under his breath.

Because he would. One way or another.

Max didn’t see her again for days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on his mind. She had a way of lingering there, like the scent of rain after a storm—clean, fresh, and completely out of place in his world.

The more he thought about her, the more he couldn’t shake the way her voice had sounded when she’d called him "the boy that fixes Daddy’s car." There was no judgment in it, no disdain. Just a simple observation, like she hadn’t even realised how different their worlds were.

But Max knew. Oh, he knew.

She was the preacher’s daughter, for God’s sake. The girl who probably spent her nights reading scripture and praying for sinners like him. And he? He was the guy people crossed the street to avoid, the one mothers warned their daughters about. He’d left home at fifteen, slept on park benches and under bridges until he’d scraped together enough to buy that rusted-out trailer. He worked double shifts at the garage, spent his weekends drinking cheap beer with guys who wouldn’t bat an eye at a bar fight, and had a reputation that kept most people from looking him in the eye.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He knew that.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want her anyway.

The next Wednesday, he found himself back outside the church, parked in the same spot as before. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself. But when he saw her again, her laugh carrying across the parking lot as she said goodbye to the last of her Bible study group, he felt that same pull in his chest.

This time, he didn’t approach her. Not yet. Instead, he leaned against his shit box car and watched as she locked the doors, her movements quick and practiced. She wasn’t carrying anything tonight, but she still seemed to pause for a moment, glancing around like she could feel his eyes on her.

He ducked his head, pretending to light a cigarette even though it was already burning. When he glanced back up, she was gone.

The next few days passed in a blur of oil changes, engine repairs, and sleepless nights. Max couldn’t shake the image of her—the way her hands had brushed his, the way she’d looked at him like she was trying to figure him out.

By the time Sunday rolled around, he couldn’t stay away.

He parked his bike a few blocks from the church, out of sight, and watched as families filed in for the morning service. They were all dressed in their Sunday best—dads in pressed suits, moms in floral dresses, kids squirming in their fancy clothes.

And then there she was, walking up the steps with her family. She wore a white dress that stopped just below her knees, her hair pulled back in a way that showed off the delicate line of her neck. The silver cross around her neck gleamed in the sunlight, and Max found himself staring at it, wondering what it would look like tangled with the chains he wore.

Her father was at her side, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder as he greeted the congregation. He was everything Max wasn’t—clean-cut, well-spoken, a man who commanded respect just by standing there.

Max stayed until the doors closed behind her, then turned and walked back to his bike.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he couldn’t just let it go. All he knew was that he’d see her again.

And when he did, he’d make her notice him.

Max didn’t plan to follow her after the service, not really. But when he saw her step out of the church alone, her family nowhere in sight, curiosity got the better of him. She walked with purpose, her hands clutching a small book—probably her Bible, he figured—and her expression calm, like she knew exactly where she was going.

He stayed a block or so behind, keeping his footsteps quiet on the pavement. She didn’t seem like the type to sneak off after church, and yet, here she was, turning off the main road and heading toward the park.

When she reached a shaded bench near the pond, she sat down, smoothing her dress before opening her book. Max hung back, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and began to read, her lips moving silently.

He couldn’t stop himself. Hands shoved in his pockets, he sauntered over, his boots crunching on the gravel path. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening for a moment before settling into something softer, almost expectant.

“I told my daddy I saw you,” she said, closing the book and resting it on her lap.

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what did he say?”

“That I shouldn’t hang around with people like you,” she replied simply, her voice steady, but her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the book.

He stepped closer, leaning down slightly so they were almost at eye level. “But I don’t see you running,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her expression unflinching. “I’ve noticed you, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re always… around. Outside the church. Watching.”

He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re hard to ignore.”

She blinked, her lashes fluttering like she wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—a small, hesitant thing that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

“I’ve been praying for you,” she said softly, her hands tightening on the book.

Max couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, low and rough. “Praying for me, huh? What for?”

“That you’ll find peace,” she said simply, her voice so earnest it made him pause.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way her fingers trembled just a little against the leather cover of her book, the way she seemed so fragile and so unshakable all at once.

“Peace,” he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue. “You think that’s something I’m missing?”

Her smile grew just a fraction, her eyes softening. “Don’t you?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to laugh it off, to brush her words aside like they didn’t hit somewhere deep and uncomfortable. But the way she was looking at him made it impossible.

She shifted slightly on the bench, her hands resting in her lap as she looked at him. “Everyone finds their way,” she said softly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction that made Max’s chest ache. “One way or another. You just have to be willing to see it.”

Max wanted to scoff, to tell her he didn’t have a “way” to find, but the words died in his throat when he noticed it—a faint bruise just below the cuff of her sleeve, barely visible as she adjusted the book in her lap. His eyes narrowed, the casual smirk on his face fading.

“What happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.

She followed his gaze, quickly tugging her sleeve down to cover the mark. “Oh, that?” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “It’s nothing. I play volleyball sometimes with the girls from church. Just got a little too close to the net.”

Max didn’t buy it. The way she spoke, the way her fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress—it didn’t add up. But he didn’t push. Not yet.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

She nodded quickly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Positive.”

The silence between them stretched, and Max could feel the distance growing, even though they were sitting inches apart.

“I should get home,” she said suddenly, standing and smoothing out her skirt. “It’s getting late.”

He watched as she picked up her book and slung her bag over her shoulder, the hesitant smile she gave him feeling more like a goodbye than a see-you-later.

“You walking?” he asked, standing as well.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

He didn’t offer to walk her, knowing she’d probably say no. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching her disappear down the path until she was out of sight.

The next Wednesday, Max found himself back at the church. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself—but when he saw her locking up the doors again, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching.

She glanced up as he stepped up to the doors, her face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and something softer that made his chest tighten.

“You’re here again,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head toward the doors. “Do you want to see the inside?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You offering to give me a tour?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small smile. “If you’re interested.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Show me.”

She unlocked the doors and pushed them open, leading him into the dimly lit sanctuary. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier than normal.

“This is where we hold services,” she said, gesturing toward the rows of wooden pews. “And over there is the choir loft.”

Max followed her, his eyes drifting over the stained-glass windows and the simple but elegant decor. It wasn’t the kind of place he ever pictured himself in, but being here with her made it feel… different.

“And where do you ask for forgiveness?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to her.

She paused, then turned and led him to the front of the church. “Here,” she said, motioning toward the altar. “This is where people kneel to pray.”

Max’s gaze flicked from the altar to her, and for a moment, he couldn’t help the thought that slipped into his mind. The idea of her on her knees, not in prayer but for him, sent a rush of something dark and hungry through him.

She knelt down, her hands clasped in front of her as if demonstrating. “You just… let it all out here. Whatever’s on your heart, you bring it to God.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her, his throat tightening as the image burned itself into his memory. He wondered, fleetingly, what she’d look like if she weren’t here for forgiveness but for him.

“You going to try?” she asked, looking up at him, her expression earnest and full of trust.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Not my thing,” he muttered, stepping back.

She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Maybe one day,” she said softly.

Max wasn’t so sure. But he’d come back, if only to see her again.

He didn’t ever think he’d see her in his stomping ground, ever.

The garage smelled like oil and metal, the kind of earthy, gritty scent that clung to Max no matter how much he scrubbed his hands. He was leaned under the hood of an old Chevy—her dad’s car—when he heard the soft jingle of the bell above the shop door.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as she stepped inside. Her presence was like sunlight cutting through the dim, grease-streaked world he lived in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the car and smirking. “Ain’t I usually the one picking you up?”

She stopped a few steps in, her hands clasping the strap of her bag. “I left some college work in my daddy’s car,” she said, her voice steady but careful, like she wasn’t sure how to navigate him in this setting.

Max raised an eyebrow, tossing the rag onto a workbench. “Well, aren’t you lucky I’ve got it right here.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the car before meeting his. “Can I…?”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the passenger door. “Be my guest.”

She nodded, walking over and leaning into the open door to retrieve her things. Max’s eyes flicked down before he could stop himself, catching a glimpse of her skirt riding up as she bent over, exposing plain white cotton panties that clung to her hips.

It was innocent, unintentional—but it made his pulse spike, his throat tightening as he quickly looked away. His hand clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to focus.

Then he saw it—a jagged gash on the side of her thigh, red and raw against her pale skin. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown as something twisted in his gut.

“You gonna tell me what happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

She froze for a moment before straightening, clutching her notebook tightly against her chest. “Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cut. “It’s nothing. I was playing with my brother in the park, and the ball rolled into some bushes. I went to get it and scratched myself on a branch.”

Max folded his arms, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “You’ve got an awful lot of bad luck, don’t you? First volleyball, now this.”

Her eyes darted to his, wide and a little panicked. “It’s the truth,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

He stepped closer, his presence looming as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “Lying’s a sin, you know.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But then her shoulders straightened, and she lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “I believe you should worry about the long list of sins you’ve racked up,” she shot back, her voice trembling but firm.

Max smirked at that, the sharp edge of his grin making her swallow hard. “I thought you were praying for me,” he said, his tone almost teasing but laced with something darker.

She stared at him, her hands tightening on her notebook until her knuckles turned white. “I should go,” she said finally, her voice clipped.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he replied, stepping back just enough to let her pass.

She turned and walked out, her steps quick and purposeful, the door swinging shut behind her with a jingle that felt louder than it should have.

Max watched her go, the tension in his chest twisting into something heavier. He didn’t believe her for a second. But the look in her eyes—the mix of fear, defiance, and something else he couldn’t quite name—made him want to figure out exactly what she was hiding.

And he would. One way or another.

A few days later, Max was leaning under the hood of yet another clunker when his manager strolled over, clipboard in hand.

“Got a favor to ask,” the older man grumbled. “Preacher’s too busy to pick up his car. Needs it dropped off at his place.”

Max straightened, rubbing his hands on a rag, his pulse quickening at the mention of her house. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“I’ll do it,” he said casually, masking the eagerness bubbling under his skin. “Got time.”

His manager raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Max tossed the rag aside, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “Consider it handled.”

By the time he pulled up to the preacher’s house in the old Chevy, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the house in a warm, golden light. He killed the engine, climbing out and leaning against the car for a moment.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound drifted through the open window—a soft, mournful piano melody that sent a shiver down his spine. It was beautiful, haunting even, and he knew immediately that it was her.

He stood there, listening, his chest tightening as each note seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t quite place. Then, as the song trailed off, he forced himself to move, stepping up to the door and knocking firmly.

The music stopped. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there she was.

She looked different. Vulnerable.

Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple pair of pyjamas—pale blue cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely on her frame. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Brought your dad’s car back.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

His eyes drifted lower, and that’s when he saw it—a dark, fresh bruise blooming along her forearm, just visible under the edge of her sleeve.

His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, his rough fingers brushing against the tender skin.

She flinched, but not away. Her lips parted, her eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and uncertain.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

She pulled her arm back, wrapping it around herself like a shield. “I’ve been sick,” she murmured, her words hesitant. “That’s why I’ve been home. Just… clumsy, I guess.”

He didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

“Sick, huh?” he said, his voice edged with scepticism.

She nodded, but the way her gaze darted to the floor gave her away.

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, charged with something neither of them seemed able to name. Max’s hand hovered at his side, aching to reach out again, but he forced himself to step back.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and Max turned just as her father appeared in the doorway.

“Evening,” the preacher said, his voice warm but commanding, his eyes flicking between Max and his daughter.

“Car’s good as new,” Max said, holding out the keys. “She’ll run smooth for you.”

“Appreciate it,” the preacher replied, taking the keys with a nod.

Max hesitated, glancing at her one last time. “You know where to find me if you need anything. Always here for you to rely on the car.”

His words were meant for her father, but his eyes stayed on her, making sure she understood the double meaning.

The preacher didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, son,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crisp bill. He handed it to Max with a firm handshake.

Max nodded, pocketing the tip without looking at it. As he stepped back, the preacher gave him a polite smile before closing the door firmly, leaving Max staring at the wood grain.

The following morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds of Max’s trailer, casting long shadows over the cluttered space. He was sprawled on his bed, one leg hanging off the side, barely awake when he heard it—a soft, hesitant knock at the door.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, the sound so light it could’ve been the wind rattling the screen. But then it came again, firmer this time.

Grumbling under his breath, Max swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He shuffled to the door in nothing but his boxers, too groggy to care about decency.

When he pulled the door open, he froze.

There she was, standing on the cracked wooden steps of his trailer.

She looked like she’d stepped out of another world—her crisp white blouse tucked into a pale blue skirt that swayed lightly in the breeze, her hair perfectly combed and pinned back. But her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, and there was a tremble in her lip that told him she’d been crying.

Her gaze flicked downward, catching sight of his bare chest and boxer-clad frame. Her face flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Max blinked, his grogginess evaporating in an instant. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the ground like she couldn’t meet his eyes. He stepped back, holding the door open wider. “You wanna come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping over the threshold.

As she entered, the contrast between her polished appearance and the rough, lived-in state of his trailer couldn’t have been starker. The cramped space was cluttered with tools, half-empty coffee mugs, and a laundry basket overflowing with clothes. She looked out of place, like a dove dropped into the middle of a storm.

Max closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself. “I… I didn’t want to stay at home,” she said quietly.

The way her voice cracked on the last word made his chest tighten.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping closer but keeping his distance, giving her space to speak.

She shook her head, her fingers gripping her bag tighter. “I… I snuck out,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew. He’d known for weeks.

Finally, she looked up at him, tears brimming in her wide, frightened eyes. “It’s my daddy,” she whispered. “He… he hits me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body going rigid. “How long’s this been going on?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

She looked away, her gaze darting to the corner of the room as if she could hide from the question. “As long as I can remember,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

Max swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to punch something, to drag her father out into the street and make him pay. But more than anything, he wanted to make her feel safe.

“You should’ve told someone,” he said, his voice softer now, though the anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Her eyes snapped back to his, a flash of fear and desperation in them. “I couldn’t,” she said quickly. “I can’t. If people knew, it’d ruin everything. My daddy’s the preacher. People look up to him. They’d never believe me.”

Max stepped closer, his rough hands itching to reach out and touch her, to ground her somehow. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to go back there,” he said firmly. “You can stay here. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Her gaze softened, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Why do you care so much?”

Max let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think I can just stand by and let this happen? After everything I’ve seen…” He paused, meeting her gaze head-on. “You’re not like the rest of us. You don’t belong in a place like that.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. She looked like she might say something, but then a tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said suddenly, backing toward the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering me,” Max said firmly, cutting her off.

She hesitated, her hand hovering near the door handle.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decide whether she could trust him. Finally, she nodded, just barely, and let her hand fall away from the door.

Max rubbed the back of his neck again, his eyes never leaving her face as she stood there, caught between leaving and staying. He could see the battle in her—wanting to run but needing something, someone, to anchor her.

“You can stay here tonight,” he said, his voice steady but gentle, like he was trying not to spook her.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. She looked around the cramped trailer, at the cluttered counters and the sagging couch, her delicate hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t know…” she started, her voice faltering.

“No one’ll bother you here,” Max said, stepping closer. “You’ll be safe. And if you want to leave in the morning, you can. No strings.”

She bit her lip, the hesitation etched in every line of her face.

“But…” she whispered, looking up at him, “I need to go to Sunday service.”

Max blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone.

“While I’m mad at my daddy,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, “I still have to go. I can’t not be there. It’s… it’s important to me.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet plea wrapped in conviction.

Max nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take you,” he said simply. “First thing in the morning.”

She blinked up at him, a flicker of relief crossing her features. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Scout’s honor.”

That drew a small, hesitant smile from her, though it quickly faded as her gaze dropped to the floor again.

“I’ll stay,” she said softly, almost like she didn’t believe the words herself.

Max exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “Good. Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the trailer. “It’s not much, but it’s better than where you came from.”

She nodded, her movements stiff and unsure, like she didn’t quite know how to exist in this space.

“I gotta get to work,” Max added, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Bed is yours, and there’s food in the fridge—though, fair warning, it’s mostly leftovers and beer.”

That earned him a faint, almost amused look, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

Max hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, careful, but firm enough to ground her.

“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice low but certain.

She nodded again, her gaze flicking up to meet his, and for a moment, the silence between them felt warm, comforting.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, stepping toward his makeshift bedroom grabbing some clothes and slipping them on. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me, alright? Danny down the road has my number, he’s got the graffiti all over his trailer.”

“Alright,” she replied, her voice steadier now.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Max stepped out into the morning light, the door clicking shut behind him. As he walked toward his beat-up car, a strange mix of emotions swirled in his chest—anger, protectiveness, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

She’d taken a risk coming to him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

Max worked through the afternoon with his head barely in the game. The thought of her in his trailer—his space—kept creeping into his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, looking so out of place, like she belonged somewhere far away from this rundown world he inhabited. The image of her soft eyes and trembling lip haunted him as he fixed engines and cleaned up at the shop.

By the time he came back to the trailer, the evening sun had already dipped behind the horizon, casting a pale, dusky glow over everything. He turned the key in the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet.

And then he froze.

The trailer didn’t look the same.

It was spotless.

The clutter on the counters, the dirty dishes, the laundry piled up in the corner—all of it was gone. The floor was swept, the counters wiped down, and there was even a faint smell of something cooking, something hearty and savory. Max took a step inside, his eyes scanning the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

And there she was, standing in the kitchen.

She had slipped into one of his old band t-shirts—black and faded with the edges curling up—and paired it with the skirt she’d worn earlier. Her hair was still down, a little messy from the day, but there was something about the way she moved around his space that made her seem... at ease. She was focused on the stove, stirring something in a pot, humming quietly to herself as if she belonged.

Max felt a sudden knot in his stomach, a wave of desire mixed with something deeper—something protective. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping down to her legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt, and then back up to her face. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in what she was doing, and he took a few moments to just watch her.

She looked so out of place in his world—his messy, cluttered world—but at the same time, she fit perfectly.

She caught sight of him, and a warm, almost shy smile spread across her face. "I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I found some stuff in the cupboard. It’s not much, but I thought… I could make you something."

Max’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea she could cook.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice rough with something unspoken. He stepped further into the trailer, noticing that she’d even made the bed. The blankets were neatly arranged, the pillow fluffed, the whole room looking like it belonged in some kind of hotel. It felt... new.

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's the least I could do. You’ve been so kind to me... I wanted to help, in some way."

Max ran a hand over his jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close. Her presence was intoxicating, her gentle kindness disarming. The way she stood there, so effortless in his space, made something inside him shift. His heart beat faster as he moved toward the kitchen, unable to resist the pull of her.

She turned back to the stove, unaware of the war going on inside him. He couldn’t help but glance at the way her shirt rode up on her thighs, the curve of her hips, and the soft skin of her exposed legs. His mind flashed to earlier—when she’d stepped into his trailer with those wide eyes, trembling and vulnerable. And now, she was here, looking like she belonged to him in ways she probably didn’t even realise.

His hands clenched at his sides. He needed to calm down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything up,” he said, trying to focus on something other than how badly he wanted to kiss her, touch her, feel her beneath his hands.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, her voice soft. “It felt wrong to just sit around, so I figured I could do something. It’s a mess here, but I… I wanted it to feel like home for a bit.”

Home.

The word hit him harder than he expected. Max didn’t know what it meant to feel at home. His life had always been a constant hustle, scraping by, living in his car, barely getting by. But here, with her, in the middle of this trailer—he felt like maybe he could understand it, just a little bit.

She stirred the pot again, and Max took a deep breath. His body was tight with the need to do something—to touch her, hold her—but he fought it down.

He stepped closer, casually leaning against the counter. “You sure you’re okay with all this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, casual.

She glanced at him, her eyes soft but unreadable. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing, her gaze steady. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared, Max.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. Her skin was soft, delicate, and his pulse skipped in response. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at him either.

Max leaned in just slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, in the quietest voice, almost as if she were speaking to herself, she whispered, “I believe you.”

And in that moment, something inside Max shifted completely. He didn’t just want her. He needed to protect her. To keep her from harm.

The tension in the air was thick, and he knew if he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. His hand lingered on hers for just a second longer before he pulled away, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Let’s eat,” he said, trying to mask the urgency in his voice, trying to ground himself again.

Max didn’t have a proper dining table—hell, he barely had enough room for his sofa—but tonight, that didn’t matter.

He took a seat on the old sofa, and she settled beside him, carefully placing the plates of food between them. The smell of whatever she’d made filled the air—something simple but satisfying, with just a hint of warmth that made it feel like a real meal. It was the first time in a while that Max had felt something other than hunger when he sat down to eat.

As she set her fork down and looked at her hands, she murmured something under her breath, her voice soft and steady. Max was halfway through a bite when he realised she was praying.

He watched her quietly, noting the calmness in her demeanor, the way her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her lips moved with the words, a quiet reverence that made the air in the room feel still, almost sacred.

When she finished, she looked at him, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s just… habit.”

Max shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No need to apologise,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He found it cute—no, charming—how she prayed before every meal, how that simple act of faith seemed to give her some semblance of peace. He had no idea what that kind of peace felt like.

They ate quietly, the sound of forks scraping against plates the only noise between them. There was something almost intimate about this simple moment—the way she sat beside him, the way she kept her space but still seemed to fill the room.

It wasn’t long before Max’s mind started to wander again, and his gaze drifted down to her hand as she picked up her glass of water. He noticed the ring on her finger, the simple silver band catching the light.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, though his stomach clenched slightly.

She looked down at it, almost absentmindedly, before meeting his gaze. “It’s a purity ring,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent.

Max froze, his fork half-raised to his mouth. A purity ring. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, a wave of something dark and primal swirling beneath the surface. She wore it like a promise, a promise to stay pure, to wait for marriage, to avoid the kinds of things he’d spent most of his life seeking out—things he wasn’t sure he could even offer her if she wanted them.

His thoughts scrambled, his chest tightening. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and shifted on the couch, trying to ignore the tightening in his jeans. He couldn’t help himself. The idea of her—innocent, pure, wearing a ring like that—drove him mad. It made him think things he shouldn’t, things that went against the very core of who she was.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. “I, uh… I think you should take the bed,” he said abruptly. “I’ll crash here on the couch.”

She gave him a soft look, her expression kind, though there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t used to accepting charity—or favours of any kind.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at the bed and then back at him.

She stood up, taking both their plates to the sink and left him in the makeshift living room.

Max settled back onto the small couch, but sleep didn’t come easy. He was restless, his mind too filled with thoughts of her, her innocence, her sweetness, and that damn purity ring. Even though there was a whole doorframe separating the two of them, the room felt too small. His chest too tight. His body too aware of everything that was happening in that tiny space between them.

Eventually, he shifted again, sighing in frustration as he tossed the blanket off of himself. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was too small for someone his size. He needed to stretch out.

A few minutes later, he heard the soft creak of the floorboards. He turned his head slightly, squinting through the dim light. She was standing in the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of his beside table.

“Max?” Her voice was soft, tentative.

He sat up, blinking. “Yeah?”

“I—uh, I can’t sleep,” she admitted, stepping further into the room. “And you look... uncomfortable on the couch.” She hesitated, then bit her lip. “Would you, um, want to sleep in the bed with me? Just... just for tonight?”

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He should’ve said no. He knew he should’ve. But she was standing there in his shirt, her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and her eyes—those soft, uncertain eyes—were pleading with him in a way that made him feel like he was the one who needed her comfort.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tight.

She nodded, her hands trembling just slightly as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please. I just—” She paused, biting her lip, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Max’s heart twisted in his chest. He could’ve said something else—told her it was fine, that she should rest, or something like that. But he was done with pretending he didn’t want to be close to her, to feel her next to him.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “But, uh... let me put on a shirt.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he could’ve sworn he saw the smallest flicker of a smile on her lips. “Okay,” she whispered, turning her back to give him some space.

He grabbed a random shirt from the pile of clean laundry on the floor, pulling it on over his bare chest, and then slipped under the covers beside her. She had already crawled under the blankets, pulling them tightly around her.

Max settled in beside her, keeping a careful distance at first. But the bed was small, and it didn’t take long for her to inch closer. He could feel her warmth at his side, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the delicate scent of her hair mixing with the familiar scent of his worn sheets.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the trailer, casting a soft glow across the room. Max slowly woke up, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her soft breathing filling the quiet room.

For a moment, Max just stayed still, letting the comfort of her closeness wash over him. His arm had instinctively wrapped around her while they slept, and he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

But as his body began to wake up fully, so did a familiar discomfort: the pressure of his morning problem, straining against the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught, and he tried to shift subtly, hoping she wouldn’t wake up and notice the situation. She didn’t. She just remained nestled against him, her breath slow and steady.

Max let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the growing tension in his body. He kept his arm around her for a moment longer, relishing the softness of her against him, before reluctantly moving it.

Her movements eventually stirred him from his thoughts, though. He felt her shift and heard her small, quiet sigh as she began to stir. She slowly pushed herself up and away from him, the weight of her head leaving his chest.

Max watched as she stood up, stretching lightly before walking toward the small kitchen area. The simple act of her moving around his trailer felt domestic, a little surreal. He never imagined a girl like her would be here, in his space, making herself at home.

She turned on the old coffee maker and started washing the dishes from the night before, humming softly to herself. Her bare feet moved across the worn linoleum floor as she worked, picking up the plates, scrubbing them clean with a kind of focused determination. Max watched her, a little mesmerised by the way she went about everything with ease. She was so domestic, so... pure.

After a while, she glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said quietly. “I usually make something nice on a Sunday.”

Max shook his head, trying to get his bearings. “I don’t mind at all.” His voice was still rough with sleep. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly and got to work, preparing eggs, toast, and whatever else she could find in his meager supplies. Max sat up, rubbing his eyes. He watched her as she moved, the way her shirt clung to her in all the right places, how she seemed so comfortable here despite how out of place she looked in his world.

Eventually, she finished up with the dishes and turned to him. “I need to get ready for church.” Her eyes softened a little, as though she could sense the hesitation in his. “Can y—“

“I’ll take you. I just don’t have a car right now. It’s in the garage.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a moment, Max thought she might protest, but instead, she just nodded. “Okay.”

He took a quick shower and threw on some old jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t exactly have a wardrobe that screamed “church-going,” but it was the best he could do. He wasn’t there to make a statement anyway—just to get her there and make sure she was safe.

When he stepped out of the small bathroom, he found her already dressed in her Sunday best—yesterday’s shirt and skirt with a cardigan she must have pulled out her bag. Her hair was perfectly styled, like she’d just walked out of a church bulletin. She looked so out of place in his trailer, so polished and pristine compared to the worn, dirty space they were in.

Max grabbed his helmet and walked over to her, holding it out. “Here,” he said, the words laced with a slight smirk. “You’re gonna need this.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t argue. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You’re not walking to church, and you’re definitely not riding behind me without it.” He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

With a small, reluctant smile, she took the helmet from him, adjusting it over her head, the loose strands of her hair sticking out slightly. Max handed her the extra jacket he had and then motioned to the door. “Let’s get going. I’ll get you there early so no one sees you.”

She nodded, slipping on the jacket and walking toward the door with him. Max grabbed the keys to his bike and headed outside, securing the helmet on her head.

The engine of his old bike roared to life, the sound rattling the air around them. Max felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the wind in his face as they drove, but his focus wasn’t on the speed or the feel of the bike. It was on her, sitting behind him, her body pressed close to his, the weight of her on his back both grounding and electrifying him.

They took the back roads, keeping a low profile, making sure no one would notice them together. Max didn’t want to bring any attention to her. He didn’t want anyone to see her with him, not yet. She was too pure, too innocent to be caught up in his world.

They arrived just before everyone else, the small church looming in front of them as the sun began to rise. Max parked the bike in the back and cut the engine, then turned to look at her.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said softly, slipping off the bike.

Max nodded, watching her walk toward the steps of the church, her figure straight and composed. As she walked away from him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—something he couldn’t quite name. It was a mix of jealousy, admiration, and something darker that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He didn’t know why he stayed in the parking lot. Maybe it was the quiet that clung to the air after the service ended, or maybe it was the feeling of something unfinished between him and her. He waited, watching as the congregation filed out of the church, families chatting, some with smiles on their faces, others with the weight of the week still on their shoulders.

He saw her mother, walking alongside her brother, exchanging a few words with the other churchgoers. But no sign of her. His gaze swept over the parking lot once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she had stayed behind for a little longer.

Minutes passed, and Max’s unease grew. She hadn’t come out.

Frowning, he swung his leg off the bike and walked toward the church’s front doors. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to check on her, but something in him insisted. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if sensing danger.

Max approached the side of the church, his boots scraping the gravel beneath him. A faint voice reached his ears—just a whisper at first, but then it grew louder, more frantic. It sounded like shouting, distorted by the walls of the building, but it was unmistakably hers.

His heart skipped a beat.

He moved quickly toward the sound, pushing open a side door. The hallway inside was dimly lit, the walls cold and echoing with every step. He followed the noise, barely hearing his own footsteps as he crept closer to the source.

And then he saw them.

She was on the floor, her hands trembling in front of her, her back hunched as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Her father was standing over her, his voice a low growl of fury, loud enough to rattle the air between them.

“You’re a dirty slut!” he spat. “You’re going to hell for what you’ve done!”

Max’s blood ran cold, and for a moment, he didn’t think.

With a quick motion, he stepped forward, his voice calm but cold. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The preacher spun around, his face twisted with rage, recognizing Max.

“Stay out of this, boy,” the preacher growled, his hand still raised in the air.

But before the preacher could make another move, she stood up, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—hope? Maybe it was desperation.

Without a second thought, she ran toward Max. She didn’t hesitate, her arms reaching out to him as if he were her only anchor in the storm.

“Max,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear, but Max felt the weight of it all the same.

Max put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so that she was standing slightly behind him. His eyes never left the preacher, his voice steady.

“You know, preacher,” Max began, his voice low and measured, “God loves justice and establishes equity.” He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling something. “Psalm 99:4, right? I’m sure that’s a scripture I heard your daughter read once in Bible study. Can’t be exerting your authority in such ways, can you?”

The preacher’s face went red with anger, his hands balling into fists. “Get out of here, boy. This is none of your business.”

Max didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “It’s none of my business. But I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

He motioned to her. “Go wait by the bike.” His voice softened just for her, the harshness fading away. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated for just a moment, looking at him like she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and walked quickly toward the door. Max watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest.

The preacher made a move to stop her, but Max stepped forward, his patience snapping.

“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Max growled.

The preacher lunged at him, but Max was faster, his fist connecting with the preacher’s jaw before he had a chance to land a blow. The sound of the punch echoed in the small hallway, and the preacher staggered backward, his hands gripping the edge of the wall for support.

Max stepped forward, his voice cold. “I don’t care who you think you are. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The preacher was on his knees now, his face a mixture of shock and fury. Max didn’t wait to hear more. He turned on his heel, walking out the door to find her standing by his bike, waiting as if she hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a storm.

He nodded to her, not saying anything more, his mind racing with the anger he’d just unleashed. But all he wanted now was to get her away from here, away from him.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, handing her the helmet.

She didn’t say anything as she put it on, but the silent understanding between them spoke volumes. Max revved the engine, feeling the rush of power beneath him as he led her away from the church, away from the hell that had just erupted there.

The ride back to the trailer was eerily quiet. Max could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and heavy, the weight of everything that had just happened hanging between them. She sat behind him, her grip tight on his waist, but there was no laughter, no playful banter like there had been before. It felt like the world had shifted somehow, and the silence stretched endlessly as they rode.

Max didn’t glance back at her. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road, but all he could think about was what he’d just done. He knew he’d put himself in danger, confronting her father like that. He didn’t care. But for the first time, he couldn’t ignore the burning question: What did he really think he was doing?

The only sound on the road was the roar of the engine beneath them, a constant reminder of the distance they had yet to travel. Every twist and turn of the road seemed to reflect the turmoil inside of him, but he had no words for it, no way to express the chaos in his head.

When they finally pulled into the trailer park, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the worn pavement. Max parked the bike and cut the engine, the sudden silence of the world around them making the tension between them all the more palpable.

They didn’t speak as they walked inside, the door creaking as it opened into the small, dimly lit space. Max stepped aside to let her enter first, but the moment the door closed behind them, she removed the helmet and her composure seemed to crumble.

She stood there for a long moment, just breathing, as if she was trying to collect herself, but it was clear she wasn’t okay. Max watched her, his heart tightening when he saw the tears beginning to well in her eyes. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Before he could say anything, she collapsed into him. Her body shook as she buried her face against his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. Max’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his own breath shaky from the unexpected surge of emotion he felt at seeing her so broken.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’ve got you, shhh.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to cry, the sound raw and heartbreaking. Max gently ran his hand down her back, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. He wiped the tears off her face with his thumb, brushing her hair back from her forehead. His chest tightened with every sob that wracked her body, every quiet sob that he couldn’t take away.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly, though his words felt powerless against the pain she was clearly feeling. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it, sweetheart.”

She pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face making his chest ache even more. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, a rawness that shook him to his core. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. He could see everything in her expression, the hurt and confusion and fear.

Without a word, Max guided her to the small bed in the corner of the trailer, not sure what else to do. He wanted to fix everything, to make her feel safe, but he knew that wasn’t something he could do with words alone.

They sat on the edge of the bed, and she let him help her lie down. He crawled in next to her, his arm draping over her shoulders as she curled up against him. The space felt small, but it was warm. She was warm.

Max didn’t say anything as he laid beside her, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He just held her. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet, like the calm after the storm, both of them lost in the stillness of the moment.

Her breathing eventually slowed, her sobs quieter now, though her body still trembled slightly from the emotions that had flooded her. Max stayed close, not letting go. His fingers gently traced the outline of her arm as he held her close, not knowing exactly what to say to make it better, but knowing that being there, holding her, was enough—for now.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his voice soft and unwavering, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not anymore.”

Then a weird thought came to Max as he watched hee sleep in his arms.

She’d prayed for his peace.

And while he wasn’t a believer.

He sure as hell felt at peace.

part two out now!

[slightly-knot-insane]

Under Your Cold Fingertips

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: bodyguard x protégée, fluff and smut, forbidden romance content: nsfw, oral (male and female receiving), p in v, pulling out

"I must rest here a moment, mistress."

The hollow sound of his voice under the helmet is very quiet. He's been walking next to your horse for a while, limping, but insisting he is fine. The snow gathered on his armor and his gray horns were decorated with little crystals.

"Of course!" You hastily unmount, sensing he is unwell.

His armor loudly clanks as he almost falls on the steps beneath the abandoned gate. You hear him breathe heavily and hot. As you look back the way you came, you see droplets of blood branding his every footstep.

"You are badly hurt!" you shout. "You fool, why didn't you tell me?"

He remains silent, his hot breath creating a fog around his head. Maybe you're imagining, but he looks like he's... shaking? Gods...

"Quickly, let's undress you," you order him and kneel in front of him.

"M-mistress..." his metal gauntlets clink as he jerks his arms upwards in shock. "What are you doing? You'll get dirty."

"Shut up," you retort. "I can wash my clothes and shoes. But I can't revive my most loyal bodyguard, can I?"

He doesn't say anything and let's you untie his boots. Meanwhile, he carefully releases buckles below his chin. He removes his helmet slowly but the metal still scrapes against his horns. He is a bit pale and has dark rings surround his eyes. If his sclera wasn't black, you're sure you would see how very bloodshot they are.

You suck air between your teeth. "Your bandages are soaked!" Trying not to harm him further, you carefully start unwrapping the bloodied material.

"Mistress, please! This is highly inappropriate."

You just shoot him a furious glance to shut him up. You barely know anything about wounds or treating them, but the gash is long and bleeding heavily. "This looks bad...", you utter.

"It's fine, I heal fast—" Without waiting him to finish, you quickly get all the necessary things and with his help clean his wound. He hisses as the disinfectant slides down his skin.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper while dabbing around his wound. "You don't deserve this."

A large calloused palm covers your fingers. He is surprisingly gentle. He... never touched you like this before. "Mistress, your hands are cold." Wrapped by his clawed fingers, he brings your hands closer to his mouth and blows onto them. Warm air as white as fog twirls around your heads.

"I—" You wanted to say something, something funny or friendly probably, maybe even witty, but your mind went blank. Or rather, every sensible thought got pushed back by that one idea.

You push yourself between his legs and kiss him. Too shocked to react, he keeps his mouth open like a fish until he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you. "What are you doing? You can't... We..." He trails off looking at your lips. "We can't..."

"You're bleeding for me and I can't even kiss you?", you ask in an almost growling tone.

Still slightly shocked, he opens his mouth to speak, reconsiders and kisses you instead, tightly embracing you against his chest. And his hard and cold armor but you don't care. All you want are his warm lips and his tongue to shove itself down your throat. But not only that...

You slide down between his legs again, happy that doesn't have heavy plates on his lower body (even though that proved a wrong choice this morning). You quickly loosen his pants and push your hand inside. "This is wrong," he mutters over and over but does nothing to stop you taking his heavy and strange cock into your hands. You always wondered how it looks like. And tastes like.

You take it into your mouth, followed by his low and breathy fuck, and you hum around it as you use your tongue to explore every part of it. Listening to your guardian's moans makes you wet and your cunt clenches around nothing every time he jerks his hips up and thrusts into your mouth. You lick his phallus all over, sucking his tip and tracing his veins until he grabs your wrists and pulls you on him.

You stand above him, many layers of your dress stopping you to make the next step. You lift your skirts and chemise around your waist. "Forgive me," he says before he rips your undergarments and reaches your pussy. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your folds, his nose digging into your bush and soft tissue. He is growling like a hungry animal, devouring your nectar and you tremble above him, panting and gasping as his tongue finds all your secrets.

He pulls you down, onto his lap and you drop all your skirts onto you two. They hide everything that happens between you two and keep you warm at the same time.

There is a strange expression on his face. "Mistress..."

You kiss him before he says something stupid, and guide his cock inside you. Slight pang of pain causes you discomfort, but you can't help but roll your hips looking for pleasure. His arms are under your chemise and his claws dig into your hips. You moan into each others mouths, your breaths and bodies pushing the cold away. You ride his cock and with his help you feel the pulses of your peak building up.

"I'm close", you sob into his neck and he grabs your ass so that he could lift you and fuck you from below. You breath hitches from the force of his dick digging into your cunt and you quickly come undone. He kisses you, savoring your delight, and slides into your pussy slowly but deliberately, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. He then pulls you onto his chest and positions himself so that he can push his whole cock into you easily. In and out, in and out, faster and faster.

Some outsider wouldn't see a thing happening hidden under those long and dirty skirts. But you could feel the tension of his muscles and his cock swelling inside you. He suddenly pulls out by lifting you like a child's toy and, with a long groan, he cums all over your thighs.

"I wish I saw your cock twitching and spilling," you say while you lay against his breastplate.

Still breathless, he chuckles, but also groans in discomfort. You finally remember. "Your leg!" You jump off his lap and see his leg bleeding again. "You fool! Why did you put me on your lap."

Completely ignoring your scolding, he pulls you down again and you sit like before, your naked cunt against his groin. "Because I don't care about that pain. I dreamed about this for a long time."

"You dreamed about fucking me outside in the cold?", you jab.

He chuckles. "Not exactly in the cold." He kisses your neck and jaw. "But outside, and inside, and in your bed, and in my bed, and against a wall, and on the table, and on the floor, and against a tree..."

As he names all the places he imagined, your pussy throbs against his muscles. "All that sounds lovely. But let's get your leg fixed first before you bleed to death."

He places his forehead against yours. "At least I would bleed for the most amazing woman in the world."

You hit him in the chest, blush overtaking your cheeks. "Shut up, you... fool."

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Things Rafayel would do as a lover

Rafayel is the type of lover that will paint or sketch you a lot. Like A LOT. Mate has multiple books worth of drawings and paintings of you, either getting his references from imagination (he’s such a god at drawing frfr), a picture, or real life. But, he’ll always say that it’s not perfect. (It is in your eyes)

Usually, you’ll find yourself doing work or studying in front of Rafayel as he quickly props a easel and starts painting or grabs a sketchbook and pencil and starts sketching. He’ll make random retorts to stop you from your responsibilities,

“Come on, cutie, let’s do something fun together. You don’t have to do work, right? It’s so boring, I can see how much you don't wanna do it.”

However, after you ignore him and actually start doing work he’ll shuffle around and bring his art equipment. Once in a while he’ll say something like,

“Your facial expression is really cute when you're so focused.” 

or, “Hey, don't move, I’m nearly finished, just a liitttleee bit more.” 

If you’re focusing for a long time, he sees how stressed you are and he’ll boop your nose or cheek, smearing paint, charcoal or pencil led. Then, he’ll lift you up and force you to relax with him. Whether that be just lying down together on the floor in a peaceful quietness that is later broken by him going on a rant about whatever it is that happened that day, “I tripped over a paintbrush and I’m pretty sure I sprained my ankle for a second.”, or it be getting something to eat together.

Rafayel is the type of lover that will never press hard even if he sees something that's bothering you. He’ll wait until you’re ready but he’ll try his best to distract you or to lift your mood in the best way he can.

He’ll most definitely self-declare himself as your fashion consultant, taking control of your wardrobe and even buying more clothes every time you meet him, “Just a little gift, cutie.” 

One time you made a blushing Rafayel admit that he wanted to match clothes with you and that's why he bought you so many clothes. From that day onwards you guys started to coordinate outfits whenever you would meet.

If you’re a university student, Rafayel is the type of lover that will offer to guest speak at your university just so he can keep an eye on you, catching a glimpse of you and rushing over to see you. 

He’ll beg you to not go to your classes and hang out with him and even when you remind him that you can't do that he’ll pout and probably sulk at the bottom of your campus pool for a couple of minutes as you beg him to stop since a crowd’s starting to gather.

Rafayel is the type of lover that brings those disposable old cameras everywhere you go together and snap pictures of you when you’re unaware to print them out and stick them on his wall or a photo album afterwards.

Rafayel is the type of lover that makes handmade gifts. From paintings, sketches, scrapbooks, accessories from seashells. He’ll give them to you even when there’s no occasion, 

“You can't just expect me not to make you something when we haven't seen each other for so long.”

“Rafayel, we saw each other yesterday.”

And when there is an occasion he goes all out, a pop-up scrapbook, a corkboard with pictures of you two together and some of himself (“So you don't miss me too much, cutie.”) and a painting of you. Honestly, he gives so many gifts you swear that you can't store them all. 

A/N: Rafayel is such a sarcastic, drama queen, but honestly he's so much more than that. Art creds: Fireworks Vow - Love and Deepspace Dividers by @omi-resources