#except with blue eyes cause we missed out there

[hereticpriest]

Muse

Fandom: Rush

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Niki Lauda x reader

Warnings: Some time period typical misogyny, heavy flirting, rough sex, semi-public handjob, road head, semi-public blowjob, oral (m and f receiving), deep-throating, face-fucking, vaginal fingering, soft femdom, soft bondage, switch Niki, switch reader, cum-eating, cum as lube, use of protection (condoms, birth control pills), lack of protection, pull-out method, possessive Niki, enthusiastic consent, consensual somnophilia, consensual free use, woman on top, mating press, breeding kink resulting in pregnancy.

Only a favour could ever get you onto one of these hellspawn racetracks. Only Tony fucking Olsworth, your oldest friend in the world, your biggest mentor, and the man who first helped you sell your photographs to some of the most prestigious newspapers across the world could get you to the Argentina Grand Prix. He was the first person to ever see you for who you were and what you could do, and believe in the success of both. Talent recognizes talent, afterall. Tony saw you, saw how good your eye was, and helped you get to where you were today. So, of course, when he broke his arm and bruised a couple of ribs in an accident and couldn’t fulfil a contract for photographs of the first Formula One race of the 1975 season, he knew exactly who to call. The only person in the world he would trust to take over for him, despite never having done any photography for driving.

You were fresh off of taking some award-winning photos for the MLB World Series in October, followed by a month of chasing insane assholes around the world while they did nonsense like free-climbing and hang gliding. Despite not being your usual niche, National Geographic paid quite a bit for the photographs along with your colleague Miguel Amalia’s multi-page spread article. You’d been hoping for a bit of a break before the start of the new year - plenty of sports took place in the early half of the year, and you had plans to be at the best of the best. You were going to go to the spa, pamper yourself, maybe even go to a few galleries.

Until Tony.

“Look at you, doll! You look wonderful. Not at all like you’ve been scrambling up mountains god knows where and camping in the wilderness. And look at you now, in beautiful Argentina, at the start of the season of the best sport in the world!” The older man cheers at the sight of you, champagne in one hand, the other in a cast from wrist to shoulder. You don’t know how he could possibly be so happy considering his broken arm and bruised ribs, but Tony’s always been a strange one. Despite not having to be here, and having you as his official replacement, he still showed up, his white-blond hair perfectly coiffed back to show off a round, cheerful face. The crows feet around his hazel eyes wrinkle further as he offers you a pearly-white, toothy smile, and you can’t help but smile at his jolly face. He’s here both to show you around, and because he hadn’t missed a Formula One race in years. He was a fan as well as a photographer.

“You’re delusional, Tony, honey, you must be getting sunstroke. There are far more entertaining sports out there where two people don’t die per season.” You retort, walking with him as he leads you through the facility and explains the different teams to you. He’s dressed for the warm weather in a salmon shirt and khaki shorts, the material breezy and loose for good air flow. You’re only half listening if you’re being perfectly honest, distracted by the sights of drivers and mechanics scurrying around cars. If nothing else, the colours will pop well in photographs.

“I want you to see the qualifying races so you can understand some of this a little better, and get the timing down. It’s a good time to get to know the drivers as well. Brabham are the ones to watch this year, you just wait and see.” Tony explains, and you hum noncommittally, “Carlos Reutemann and Carlos Pace. Argentina and Brazil respectively. This is Reutemann’s home Grand Prix.”

You nod along with Tony, looking at the drivers he points out, until he gets called away by a reporter he knows for a quick chat. He tries to bring you along, but you excuse yourself from the conversation, wandering instead. One thing you can say for Formula One in comparison to other sports is that the drivers are very different from other athletes. It’s nice to see some variation for once, though you notice throughout the drivers themselves a somewhat similar aesthetic cropping up. From a distance, you notice a dark blond, delightfully curly-haired man in a red racing suit with rather striking features. Eyes a piercing blue, a fairly obvious overbite that pushes his upper lip out in an endearing manner and makes his chin look somewhat weak in comparison, and gorgeous facial structure. Statuesque, almost, like he should’ve been sculpted from marble. He’s thin, and not particularly tall as is typical of drivers, but he looks almost soft in a way that appeals to you.

Not stereotypically pretty, certainly, but interesting. And isn’t that what you crave most of all? Some small spark in this drab, grey world of people who all seem to always try and look exactly alike? Isn’t that why you refused to go into advertising photography despite the good pay and the many offers you received? So many people nip and tuck away their unique features that would make them interesting. Crooked teeth or gaps, freckles and moles, big or crooked noses, strong brows, weak chins, sallow cheeks, belly fat or loose skin. All of it is so much more compelling than symmetry or median appearances. You loathe being bored, and frankly, you find a certain boringness in attractiveness. That’s why you let your passion (and fear, frankly) drag you up the sides of mountains, to countless countries all across the world, even in the worst weather imaginable. That’s why despite disliking extreme sports, you still accept contracts to photograph them, accepting the risk to both the athletes and yourself. You’re only human, and a selfish one at that.

Your camera is in your hands before you even notice what you’re doing, and you steady yourself carefully, adjusting your settings to account for the bright day and distance. The man, whoever he is, pushes his hair out of his eyes as he examines his car, and you grin as you get a rather lovely shot of him laughing at something a nearby mechanic says to him. He turns slightly and you notice his suit is undone to the waist, exposing his lovely tummy and a delicious amount of body hair that you can’t help but snap a photo of. You’re completely in the zone, oblivious to the world around you when Tony steps up beside you.

“Ahh, I see you’ve met our King Rat.” Your mentor hums pleasantly, and you blink, lowering the camera so you can peer at him in stunned confusion.

“The who?” You ask, figuring you’ve misheard him. Tony raises his eyebrows at you like he thinks you might be a bit daft, then gestures with his champagne glass widely towards the man you’ve instinctively locked in on.

“Niki Lauda, darling. He’s a driver for Ferrari, with Clay Regazzoni as his teammate. The dark-haired chap with the ‘stache. They call Lauda the Austrian Rat.” Tony explains, then gestures towards his mouth with a grimace, “You know, his unfortunate… well, overbite situation.”

Your head tilts, and you stare blankly at your oldest friend for several moments before looking around you at the rest of the people at the Grand Prix. Press, drivers, officials, mechanics and countless other people involved in making Formula One run smoothly. Countless people who must be intelligent to be able to keep this all running with minimal hiccups.

“All of them? Call him this?” You clarify, and Tony must register your shock for he clears his throat a little and looks mildly ashamed of himself.

“Well, yes, it’s not a very kind nickname but it is extremely common… unfortunately, of course. Poor chap probably doesn’t deserve it, even if he is known to be a bit of an asshole.”

You look around again, then lift your camera to peer at who you now know to be Niki Lauda, finding him frowning at a man in a similarly vibrant red racing suit to his. Clay Regazzoni, then, you put together the obvious context clues - the man certainly has a well-groomed moustache. Even with an unimpressed look on his face, Lauda is still striking, and you snap another photo of him leaning into the seat of the car to examine something before looking at Tony again.

“Is everyone in this horrid sport brainless? I’ve met more intelligent boxers, and they get punched in the face for a living.” You muse, and Tony laughs into his champagne, spluttering as he chokes on it.

“I think the point is for them to not get punched in the head, my dear.” He corrects you, and you roll your eyes. As you go back to your camera, Tony observes you, finishing off his glass, “Are you intending on taking photos of anyone other than the rat today?”

You scoff, taking a picture of the two Ferrari drivers together talking over their cars, gesturing somewhat animatedly, “Certainly, the moment one of them does anything even remotely interesting.”

Tony peers around the garages as if looking for something to contradict your blatant disinterest with, then follows your gaze.

“So, Niki Lauda standing still, talking to his teammate while gazing wistfully at his car is more interesting than any of the other drivers who might be doing the same thing?” Tony asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to make a point, but you’re not really interested in hearing him out when you know what he’s going to say.

“He’s actually compelling to look at, so yes.” You retort, and Tony exhales a laugh, fondness and amusement mixing with his annoyance to soften it nearly entirely.

“Alright, darling, take some photos of the other teams so you have at least something to sell that isn’t a photo of Lauda. Take some pictures of the Brabham team, maybe that handsome young Hunt chap that everyone is so riled up about, and then you can go back to stalking the Ferrari garage. At least you’ve found something to keep your interest in the races - I was a little nervous I might have to bribe you into paying attention.”

It’s good advice, and you know you’re meant to be taking photos for Tony, but it takes genuine effort to rip your gaze away from the Austrian driver. Tony leads you towards the Brabham area, and you obediently take several good photos of both Pace and Reutemann. Tony even takes the time to introduce you to them, and you pretend to listen while they discuss Tony’s injury. They’re nice enough, though you can blatantly tell that they’re only indulging you because you’re a woman.

This is a trend that repeats several times. Tony leads you from garage to garage, and most of the drivers are either nice enough to pose for photos, let you take candids, or tell you to stay out of their way. You’re not offended by the brusqueness. They’re preparing for a Grand Prix qualifier. Tony might not mind bothering the drivers while they’re obviously busy, but he has a relationship with most of these men. He’s known them for years.

As you meander your way through, Tony tells you which drivers will likely hit on you, preparing you so you’re not shocked. He even indicates a couple he doesn’t recommend being alone with for any length of time, though he tells you that’s for your comfort and not because he truly believes you’d be in any real danger. You’re pleased to find neither Ferrari driver on either of those lists.The Hesketh garage is abuzz as you approach it, and you raise an eyebrow sceptically at Tony, who leans in to your ear.

“James Hunt is the driver they’re all interested in. He has a lively fanbase, with a high female audience. Handsome, charming… Tall, even, for Formula One.” Tony muses, and you spot the blond in question. He’s stereotypically handsome, certainly. Blue eyes, long blond shaggy hair that looks well-maintained and soft, and enough muscle that he probably looks a little funny getting into one of those tiny Formula One cars paired with his height. His smile is wide and suave revealing nice, white teeth. Tony hasn’t met Hunt yet, but he leads you through the crowd and introduces you to a couple of mechanics he knows. Eventually, James catches your eye, and his smile reaches his eyes as he marches over. He greets Tony in a friendly way, clearly knowing him by reputation even if they haven’t met, a hand clapped gently on his cast. He expresses seemingly sincere regrets that Tony won’t be able to take photos of the race, but Tony reminds him that that simply means he gets to relax and enjoy it while you do all the work, directing the blond’s attention towards you.

“And who might this be?” Hunt asks, holding out his hand for you. When you take it to give him a handshake, he rotates it to kiss the back of your hand, and you snort.

“This work for you often, Mr. Hunt?” You ask, gently pulling your hand free and introducing yourself. He doesn’t seem put off by your dismissal of his attentions. If anything, he takes it in stride, immediately taking the clear no and getting back to business. He’s an agreeable man, letting you take all the photos you want, though you notice he struggles with letting you take candids. His awareness of the camera is almost preternatural, and you have to be particularly careful about staying out of his eyeline to get anything you’re particularly happy with. It’s a common issue - if people know you’re taking photos, they want to look their best. You don’t blame him.

Finally, Tony leads you back towards the Ferrari garage, and you sigh with relief that you won’t be wasting your entire roll of film. He keeps walking, though, closer and closer until you’re just outside of the barriers. You freeze up, snapping at Tony that you don’t want to meet this team, but he grins widely at you, his hand like a vice around your wrist.

“Come along, darling, don’t be impolite.” He teases, and you barely refrain from hissing at him like a child.

“Clay, my friend! I’ve come to wish you good luck, and introduce you to my colleague.” Tony says loudly as he approaches, and you barely wiggle your hand free before the moustached driver walks over with a friendly smile. He hugs Tony, slapping him on the back gently, then holding his cast.

“What is this? I was hoping the news about your accident was wrong.”

“I know, I know, a tragedy. I won’t be able to make you look good for once. Luckily, I brought along a dear friend who will hopefully do you justice.” Tony gestures to you, and you hold out your hand to Clay as you introduce yourself. He doesn’t try to kiss your knuckles, though you see the instinct flash in his eyes before he thinks better of it. You like him more just for that.

“A pleasure to meet you. I look best from the left, remember that.” Clay teases, and you can’t help but laugh. He’s pretty charming, in a different way than Hunt was, “Have you met Niki yet? Niki! Come socialise, it’s good for you.”

You stiffen at Tony’s side. You always hate meeting your muses for the first time, hesitant to have their allure ruined the minute they open their mouth. The Austrian driver steps out of the garage, a bottle of water in hand which he drinks from as he approaches. He looks as hesitant to meet you as you are to meet him. A certain shyness takes him over, and you examine him curiously, since he didn’t seem to have any issues with his teammate or mechanics earlier. Tony reaches out to greet Niki and introduces himself, then claps you on the back and pushes you forwards.

“My friend here will be subbing in for me, taking pictures of the race so that I don’t get a slap on the wrist. This is her first Formula One race, but she’s an accomplished sports photographer, so I think she’ll manage just fine.” Tony gives your shoulder a little shake, and you hold out your hand to Niki, who seems to hesitate for a moment before he takes your hand to brush his lips across your knuckles with the tiniest hint of a bow. Your cheeks are on fire, and you hope it isn’t obvious - you are a grown adult woman and you are not going to get flustered over a driver. And if you do, you’re going to hide it as best as you can. You freeze in place, not pulling your hand away until he drops it, and you squeeze your thighs together in a way you hope isn’t too obvious.

“A pleasure.” Niki says, and his accent is thick like molasses, sending a shiver up your spine. You smile at him, introducing yourself and trying not to wilt under Clay’s intense, almost knowing scrutiny. This is why you hate meeting your muses - you always feel so self-conscious, as if every act is under scrutiny. It doesn’t help that you’re actually attracted to this muse. Normally, it’s a platonic appreciation for someone’s form or the way they move, but Niki Lauda was a case of his own and you had to admit it, at least to yourself.

You wonder briefly if he has a girlfriend, and if he’s one of those athletes that tends to plough their way through their fans. You don’t notice a ring, but you know that that doesn’t mean anything in sports - rings interfere in many sports, and plenty of athletes don’t wear them even if they’re happily engaged in a committed monogamous marriage. You’d ask Tony, but you’re sure he’d make you regret it. 

“Not to worry, Niki, she won’t be hounding you for candids. I think she’s already got nearly a whole film roll of them by now.” Tony muses, and your eyes go wide as saucers while Niki simply looks confused.

“Tony.” You say warningly, but he ignores you.

“Perhaps she’ll spare a bit of her film for the other drivers.” He teases you, nudging your arm, and you grab Tony by his ear, earning a yelp from him.

“Excuse me, please.” You mutter to Clay and Niki, dragging Tony only a few feet away before giving him a gentle smack to his good arm.

“You’re going to make him think you’re making fun of him, not making fun of me, Tony. It’s rude. I can take a good ribbing, but you will NOT make other people uncomfortable to embarrass me, are we clear? Or I will walk off this track and you can find someone else to take these race photos for you. Am I understood?” You scold him, finger jabbing into his chest, and he looks suitably apologetic.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Tony admits, and you jab him one more time.

“Of course you didn’t. Tease me all you like, but don’t involve other people in it. All you lot call him a rat - he doesn’t know that I think you’re all a bunch of idiots. He probably thinks I was making fun of him as well.” You put your hands on your hips, huffing at Tony while he apologises. You walk back over to the barrier, offering Niki what you hope is a sincere and reassuring smile.

“You’ll do well in your race. I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it.” You inform him, then grin cheekily and wink at Clay.

“Good luck.” You tease as you wave at them and start to walk away, “Bye boys. Enjoy your race thing.”

~

Tony apologises to Niki once you’re out of earshot, and Clay grins widely at his teammate, nudging him a couple of times, seemingly thrilled with this new development. 

“You’ve got an admirer.” Clay informs him, and Niki scoffs, watching you walk away. He observes in silence as you crouch, snapping a couple of photos of another driver before he finally tears his gaze away. Clay claps him on the back and turns to Tony.

“So, she was taking pictures of Niki?” Clay presses, and Tony glances at you as if to make sure you’re far enough away before he agrees.

“She likes people with interesting features. She finds a lot of people… well, boring, I suppose. She told me once that I’d look boring too if my cheeks weren’t so round.” Tony admits, and Clay snorts, “when we got here, she took notice of Mr. Lauda over here. I’ll admit, she doesn’t usually like meeting people she finds interesting like that, so I brought her over here to tease her a little.”

Niki looks away from Tony, watching you as you walk towards the press area, pausing briefly to snap a couple of photos of seemingly random things. He’s soon knocked out of his thoughts by Clay bumping him on the arm as Tony departs, and he says a quick goodbye before heading into the garage to get his head in the game.

~

The walk back towards the press ring is long, and you stop several times to take photos along the way, several of which you think might just earn you a pretty penny. You crouch to take a photo of a neighbouring driver from below, highlighting him against the sun in a way that you think could be beautiful. Thank god you wore bell bottoms today instead of a skirt - you’d never be able to get these kinds of shots without flashing someone.

Tony rejoins you soon enough, a little subdued, though he snaps out of it when you tell him you’re actually kind of enjoying yourself. He promises that by the end of the first Grand Prix, you’ll be hooked, and begging him to take you along for the rest of the season. You remind him that you have a strict ‘no begging’ policy, and that you’d just get your own contract if you really wanted to stick around. Tony isn’t bothered, of course, just thrilled to have you interested in his favourite sport. He gives you earplugs, and you both watch the qualifiers, with Tony pointing out tips and tricks for getting good photos. He doesn’t even tease you when it becomes clear that your best ones are of Lauda, though you know it isn’t the last you’ve heard on that matter.

With the qualifiers finished and pole position set, you depart from the track with Tony and head for the dark room you’ve rented space in near your hotel. You spend a good few hours there, but by the end of it, you’ve got several pieces you just know are going to make you a hell of a lot of money, aside from just what you’re getting from Tony. You secure your film and developed photographs, and spend the rest of your evening on the phone with a couple of your contacts, selling your photographs and earning yourself a paid trip around the world following the Formula One races.

You send off several photos to a couple of publications via express mail early the next morning on your way to the track, though your spirits are dampened by the fact that Tony left a message at the front desk for you - he’s sick, and he won’t be able to come to the race today. You have no goddamn clue how you’ll find your way around despite being there just yesterday, but you suck it up, putting on a rather lovely cream button-up shirt dress with a belted waist, suitable heels that you can walk in, and over-sized sunglasses.

You’re early to the track simply because you had to leave so early to get your mail out, and plenty of the drivers aren’t there yet. You slip out of the taxi and, admittedly, meander around for a little while trying to refamiliarize yourself. The track is busier today, even this early, and you find yourself just a little lost without Tony there to guide you. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention when he was showing you around yesterday, but how were you supposed to know he was going to get sick? The man HATED missing even a single race.

“Hey!”

You nearly jump out of your skin as a loud, familiar voice calls out to you, accent thick and instantly recognizable. You freeze like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar despite knowing full well that you’re allowed to be here, and you swear you hear the faintest chuckle from the Austrian driver. And they called him ‘cold and serious’ in the articles you read about his unique start in Formula One last season. 

“Hello Niki.” You hum as you turn to face him, pushing your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head. He’s dressed in a short sleeve button-up shirt the same colour as his eyes, and jeans that you struggle to hide your appreciation for. It’s a simple outfit, but something about seeing him out of his racing suit is attractive. His pretty dark blond hair is pushed back out of his face, curls thankfully not brushed out, and he looks hesitant to be approaching you. You almost wish you kept the sunglasses on so you could eye him up without it being so obvious.

“You’re lost.” He accuses, and you laugh, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. You’ve been walking around aimlessly.” Niki retorts, and you snicker at his bluntness, stepping closer to him with a warm smile.

“Help a girl out? I wasn’t paying much attention to Tony’s tour yesterday, and I can’t remember where I’m supposed to be.” You offer the driver your best doe eyes, and it only takes him a moment of consideration before he closes the distance between you and offers you his arm. It’s a dash old-fashioned, but you let him play the gentleman, gripping his bicep in your hand and pressing into his side. He leads you towards the track at an even pace, casual and unhurried, and you admittedly find yourself appreciating his gentlemanly behaviour as you hold his elbow and his bicep presses against your breasts.

“Clay told me that you’re helping the man from yesterday. That you don’t normally take photos for Formula One.” Niki comments, and you agree quietly, “You don’t enjoy the sport.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised by his straightforwardness and unable to help the fondness bubbling in your gut. You don’t try to lie to him to save face. You wish more people would just say what they meant.

“No, I don’t. You risk your lives for very little reward. Frankly, I think it’s unnecessary, and I prefer sports where I don’t have to be terrified that I’m going to watch someone I’ve taken pictures of die in a horrific accident.” You reply honestly, “however, I’ve been taking photos of more extreme sports lately, and while I still think it’s stupid, I have taken some very beautiful pictures. So perhaps it is not all bad.”

Niki is quiet for a moment, and a quick glance tells you he’s thinking about what you said rather than ignoring you. His arm flexes under your hand, and you give him a gentle squeeze, instinctively trying for soothing.

“There is a limit to the risk I accept. But what would life be like if we only did what was necessary?” Niki asks, and you hum thoughtfully, considering that as you walk with him. You examine his face from the side, trusting him implicitly not to lead you astray, and wish you could get your camera out and snap a photo of him from your current angle. It’s a very nice view. From this perspective, you wonder how anyone could ever call him a rat.

“Boring.” You decide, and you see a hint of a smile tug at his lips, a flash of white teeth peeking out. You grin, proud of the reaction you’ve earned yourself, and finally tune into your surroundings only to find yourself approaching the Ferrari garage, “Niki, dear, have you kidnapped me without me even realising?”

The Austrian driver cracks another smile at that, shaking his head as he leads you into the garage, not bothering to answer your teasing. Several mechanics look up at you with a hint of impressed confusion before getting back to their work, and Niki pulls out a chair for you, so you finally release his arm. You put your camera bags on the table to get them out of your way, then sit at the table with a wide smile.

“You’re early for the race. If you would rather wait out with the press and get a sunburn, go ahead.”

“Well, aren’t you thoughtful?” You coo, and he doesn’t answer you, looking hesitant once again. You dig through your bag, pulling out a stiff manila envelope filled with cardboard backing to protect its contents from bending, and hand it to the driver, “One of my favourite photos from yesterday. I hoped you might like it.”

Niki looks at the envelope but doesn’t open it, and you smile at his obvious shyness.

“I’m sure you’ve got to go get changed, right? I’ll wait right here. And I won’t snoop or anything. Your boys will keep me honest, won’t you, boys?” You ask the mechanics, one of whom laughs and mutters something under his breath that you’re sure isn’t appropriate, though it doesn’t sound malicious. You let it be, certain you’ve heard worse, and Niki looks hesitant to leave you alone but eventually begins to back away.

“I won’t be long.” He promises, and you smile pleasantly, waggling your fingers at him. Some of the mechanics keep looking at you, but you keep your pleasant expression, sitting pretty as you wait. You know that teams can be pretty tight-lipped about their secrets, so you keep to yourself to avoid the semblance of being nosy or trying to find a story. You’re not a journalist anyways, you’re a photographer. You don’t really care about their trade secrets.

“Well, well, well, look at who I’ve found.”

You turn in your seat to grin at James Hunt as he enters the Ferrari garage, nodding to the mechanics, then looking around quickly as if searching for his friend and rival.

“Hello James. Niki’s just getting changed.” You inform him, getting up to shake his hand, pleased when he doesn’t try to kiss it again.

“Ahh, he is, is he? Did he give you a ride this morning?” James asks, and you laugh as you sit back down, unable to help yourself despite the very obvious and rude implication. He’s cheeky, but he’s charming enough to get away with it. You’re not offended, anyways - you’d happily spend a night in Lauda’s bed if he invited you.

“No, James, I took a taxi from my hotel. I was far too busy in the darkroom developing my photos last night to be entertaining Mr. Lauda. Not that it’s any of your business, you nosy twat. Anyways, I’m sure you both left the track at around the same time, so you know I didn’t leave with him.” You retort, and Hunt snickers, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“I know. I was just messing with you. I wanted to see if you’d get angry.” He admits, pulling a chair over and sitting on it backwards, his arms crossed on the back of it, “So, why’re you in the Ferrari garage?”

You grin sheepishly.

“Niki rescued me from my own lack of directional skills.” You reply, and at Hunt’s raised eyebrow, you continue, “I got lost, and he stumbled upon me and took pity.”

An understanding hum escapes Hunt, and he rubs the lower half of his face as he considers your excuse. He murmurs to himself, almost like he’s lost in thought, “Right… he did, did he?”

You raise an eyebrow at the shaggy blond, “Not common for him to help out a lady in need?”

James shakes his head immediately, waving a hand as if to swipe that thought away.

“No, no, Niki’s a good man, and a gentleman with the ladies. It’s just a little peculiar for him to bring someone into the garage with him.”

“He told me I could go wait in the press area and get sunburnt instead.” You remark, and Hunt laughs.

“So, I assume you’re cheering on the rat, then? I won’t hear your lovely voice shouting my name from the stands?” He teases playfully, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a very professional photographer, thank you very much, sir. I will be taking photos of as many drivers as I can, and I will be very happy for anyone who wins,” You retort, and James raises an eyebrow with a wide grin, sensing there’s more to come, “however, if my camera malfunctions and they happen to look a bit drab in their photos, it certainly won’t be because they beat Niki and I’m a bit of a vindictive bitch.”

You giggle as James gives a loud, brash laugh, pleasantly surprised. You lean forwards a little in your seat, and Hunt looks away from you briefly before grinning brighter. God, he’s like the sun, it’s almost unnerving.

“So, what is it about the rat that’s got your knickers in a twist?” He asks, and you raise an eyebrow at him with a disbelieving snort.

“First, that’s wholly inappropriate talk in the presence of a lady, so go fuck yourself, darling. Second, why is everyone so goddamned surprised? He’s handsome, whether you blind idiots can see it or not. Far less boring to look at than you lot.” You retort, and James touches his heart and gives a pouty hiss as if wounded, “His facial structure is lovely - high, strong cheekbones, a well-defined jawline, wonderful little nose, and yes, an overbite. I find it quite endearing, frankly. He has nice lips, and his eyes are beautiful. I like his curls. And his arm felt sturdy and supportive under mine when he guided me here.”

James listens, a hint of softness in his eyes as you go on about his close friend and rival, though his ulterior motive is exposed when Niki steps fully into the room and sets a bottle of water on the table beside you. You nearly jump out of your skin, and your brows pull together as you connect the dots, then turn a scowl on James. He puts his hands up, then smiles at Niki.

“I just came to check in. Looks like you’re doing fine. I’ll see you on the track.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the man who most certainly just overheard you complimenting him quite liberally. Normally, you like to think you’ve got quite a strong backbone. You don’t get embarrassed easily. You’re fairly self-confident, and you can stand up for yourself. 

Not today.

“I should go to the press area if I want to get a good spot.” You practically squeak, and Niki raises an eyebrow at you. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re already moving, shouldering your camera bags and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can get a word out.

“I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it. See you later.” You shout over your shoulder as you practically dart from the garage, your cheeks on fire as you flee. You think you vaguely hear Niki shout something behind you, but you’re already too far to make it out, and you’re too embarrassed to stop or go back. You reach the press area and get set up, talking with a few of the reporters and photographers you know. Taking the cues Tony had given you, you take some pretty fantastic pictures of the race, including one of Niki during a pitstop, Hunt finishing the race in a spectacular second place, and Niki finishing in fourth. You take photos of the winners, deftly avoiding the spray of champagne, and fleeing to the parking lot to consider how you’re going to get home.

Part of you considers waiting for Niki and asking if you can get a ride back to your hotel with him, but the other part of you that’s still a little embarrassed and very unsure about how the Austrian man might react to your fawning holds you back, and you end up calling a taxi. Your plane ride home is a redeye, and you make it from the hotel to the airport just in time to make your flight. You’ve got just under two weeks until you have to go to the Brazil Grand Prix, and you know you’ll be busy, so you don’t stick around in Argentina for any of the afterparties despite being happy enough to live that kind of party life when it’s called for.

Your next two weeks are a whirlwind. You sell even more of your photographs from Formula One than you originally expected, and you reconsider your distaste for the sport even further as the money rolls in. An entire candid series of your photos gets purchased by a popular racing magazine to show the behind the scenes of the Argentina Grand Prix, and you’re proud to see your work highlighted on the glossy pages.

A friend of yours calls on your third day home in an absolute panic, as a model dropped out of his reshoots for a perfume campaign ad that has been bogged down with nothing but problems. He’s way over his original deadline, and desperate to get this done before the publishing date of the ad campaign. You’ve modelled before - you feature heavily in the portfolios of several friends you came up in the industry with - and you have no problem subbing in despite a lack of interest in consistent modelling work. Nudity doesn’t bother you either. You do life modelling at the local art school by your house several times a semester, having become good friends with the director of the school shortly after moving to the area.

Just under two weeks later, you board a flight to Brazil with a copy of the magazine in which your photo is printed in hand, and you can’t help but cringe just a little at the sight of yourself. Thankfully, you don’t advertise your modelling, so most people you know won’t ever see it. You’re draped upside-down over a chaise lounge, oiled legs over the back of the sofa and crossed elegantly, an arm around your breasts as perfume drips onto your bare chest and rolls up your neck. You’re dressed in only pearls and a pair of heels that are hanging from your feet like you might kick them off at any second. Your head is hung over the edge of the seat of the chaise, perfume dripping up the line of your throat, and the bottle features prominently beside you. The only thing that hides your cunt from view is a small strip of silk fabric draped around your hip and between your legs. It’s a beautiful photo. Minimal retouching, stunning composition, and the black and white photo looks far more elegant than it might have in colour. You’re proud enough of it, and you have a folder of some of the rejected shots as further payment for your troubles.

You arrive in Sao Paulo midday on Friday and make contact with the owner of a darkroom, then head off to your hotel. Tony rings you up no more than two hours after you arrive to coax you into getting dinner with him, and he presses about how the rest of the last Grand Prix went, bragging about how many of your photos he’s seen in the last few days. Tony promises to drive you to the track in the morning, and comments that many of the drivers are staying in the same hotel as you both are. He tries to encourage you to get a drink with him, but you insist on heading back to your hotel room to get some decent sleep.

On Saturday, you dress in a peach crochet crop top and high-waisted denim shorts that you have to admit make your ass look fantastic. You’re far from the only person to be dressed for the weather when you arrive - it’s atrociously hot, and Tony insists on bringing a parasol that you can’t help but tease him for. You opt to slather on sunscreen and bring a bottle to reapply later, along with water so you don’t dehydrate. Once again, Tony walks you through the garages as he says hello to drivers, spending extra time with some of his friends while you take countless photos and, admittedly, eye the Ferrari garage. You nearly jump out of your skin when a loud, British voice calls out to you moments before an arm is clapped around your shoulders.

“Hello darling.” Hunt croons, pecking your temple pleasantly, and you smile up at him.

“Hello James.”

“I think you’re more fond of me than you’d like to admit. I saw the photos you took of me winning second. You didn’t make me look drab at all.” The large blond teases, and you shrug.

“Ah, well, I’ll try harder next time.” You retort, and he laughs as he uses his grip on your shoulders to turn you around with him away from Tony. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, brown sandals, and a thin grey t-shirt, but you don’t imagine that will last long. It’s too hot for it. You’re surprised more of the drivers aren’t shirtless already.

“Now, I need something from you.” James insists almost gravely, and you raise an eyebrow as you peer up at him.

“That’s disconcerting. I promise you nothing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much, love. Just an autograph.” James insists, pulling a familiar magazine out of his pocket and flipping it open to your photo. You wonder if he expects you to be ashamed, or embarrassed. He’s grinning widely, holding out a marker to you, and you take it blithely. Using your teeth to remove the cap, you sign your photo directly across your barely covered tits, then hand it back to him.

“Enjoy. Try not to make the pages stick together or it’ll lose all its value.” You hum crudely, and James laughs so loud you just know everyone must be looking at you. You snap a photo of him braying like a donkey, and he waves you away, his bright grin showing he isn’t actually upset. He flees with his prize, promising to see you later, and Tony leads you closer and closer to the Ferrari garage while you desperately try not to panic. Clay meets you outside, a friendly grin on his face as he greets you both. He compliments several of your photos, including one of him that he informs you his wife is particularly fond of. You promise to have a proper print made for her and take his information so you can mail it, promising to think about attending one of the afterparties for the Grand Prix. You laugh at the lack of subtlety as Clay pushes you to go into the garage while he chats with Tony, but you obey his silent command, finally feeling capable of looking Niki in the eye. You’re slightly less so when you spot a copy of the dreaded magazine on one of the toolboxes.

Niki looks up at you as you enter the garage, and you’re pleased to see that he looks at least somewhat happy to see you. Sure, he’s blushing a little, but you assume that’s because of the magazine and you’re frankly not upset about him getting a peek at you naked, and perhaps wanting another. You waggle your fingers at him, and he nods in return, stepping closer to you. He’s already in his racing suit, though it’s tugged down to his waist, and you take in the sight of his naked chest shamelessly.

“Nice to see you, Niki.” You greet him, putting your hands into your back pockets and offering him a wide smile.

“I did not know if you would show up to another Grand Prix.” He comments, and you shrug, taking a step closer to him.

“Turns out I like racing more than I thought I would. I ended up getting a contract for the rest of the season, so, I guess you’ll have to get used to seeing me around.”

“There are worse things.” Niki replies with a wry, playful smile, and you laugh, “The photo you gave me. It was decent.”

You can’t help but snort, bumping your fist against his bicep gently, “I’m glad you liked it. I’m sure I’ll get more good ones today. Have you put sunscreen on yet, by the way? The sun is harsh today.”

“I forgot mine at the hotel.” Niki admits, and you grab the strap of your bag, wiggling it, then setting your bags on a nearby table since they’re heavy enough that you don’t feel like lugging them around.

“I brought some. I’ll share, since you were kind enough to show me around.” You offer, and Niki nods as he steps closer to you. You pull out the bottle and offer it to him, but he doesn’t take it, and you look at him for a moment as a hint of a cheeky smile tugs at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, pleasantly surprised, and you pop the cap to squirt some of the sunscreen into your hand then give it to Niki to hold so you can use both of your hands. Niki offers you his arm, and you take your time rubbing it into his skin until the white cast fades. You’re thorough as you make your way up first one arm, and then the other. He lets out a quiet sigh as you rub the thick cream into his chest, and you offer him a faint smile, a knowing look on your face.

You can feel the slight shift in the air. The way Niki leans into your hands, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. The way your heart has begun to pound in your chest, and you can feel Niki’s heartbeat against your palms. You wet your lips as you rub your hands over his shoulders, then carefully turn him around so you can get his back. You’re gentle but indulgent here, letting him enjoy the massage you’ve turned this into, and he lets out a quiet grunt as you work out a knot in his shoulder blade. Once he’s thoroughly protected, you turn him around again, carefully applying sunscreen to his neck and ears, then up over his chin and jaw. He watches you as you cup his face and gently rub some of the thick cream into his cheeks, sweeping over his nose, and up his temples to his forehead.

His stare is intense as you swipe your thumb across his lips, but you’re quick to return your hands to his chest. You apply a layer of sunscreen to his stomach, then examine him to be sure you’ve got him covered, and he finally lifts a hand to squeeze your waist, gentle as can be. The air shifts again, and your eyes go half-lidded, pupils blown. You swallow, throat dry from the spike of heat running through you, and you finally tear your gaze away from him to look around the garage. The door is open, and you can hear Clay and Tony chatting with the mechanics. You wet your lips, placing your hands on Niki’s chest and running your thumbs over his collarbones.

“Hey, Niki? Where do you get changed?” You ask quietly, but your meaning must be clear, since he cracks another grin that sends flutters through your stomach. He slips his arm around you, hand on your lower back as he leads you further into the garage towards the restricted back area where the drivers have their trailers. Niki opens the door for you, then follows you in, and you pull him closer to you the moment the door closes behind him. He raises an eyebrow when you lock it, seemingly surprised, and he cups your cheek tenderly.

“We don’t have time.” He reminds you, hushed, and maybe a twinge regretful. You smile up at him, guiding him to lean against the wall as your hand slips down his stomach and into his racing suit. A ragged gasp leaves his lips, and he bucks instinctively into your hand the moment it wraps around him, already more than half-hard. You give him a couple of gentle strokes through his underwear, then push his underwear down his thighs so you can free his growing erection and wrap your hand around him.

“We don’t have time for more, no. But I guarantee I can take care of you before anyone misses you too much.” You purr against his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck as you begin to stroke him properly. He arches into it a little, letting out an endearing little hum of contentment that makes you smile as he braces his shoulders against the wall behind him. Niki groans as you release him briefly to spit into your hand, and his arm tightens around you, his grip sliding down from your lower back to grab a handful of your ass. He watches you as you play with him, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly open as he takes little gulps of air, tensing every time you squeeze on your upstroke as you get close to the head. You practically moan as he starts to thrust into your hand, eyes fluttering closed as he leans into it.

“That’s it, honey. Take what you want. M’here just for you.” You whisper against his ear, unable and unwilling to hide the blatant desire in your voice, “I wish we had time. I want to feel you, Niki. I’d be so good to you.”

The Austrian groans, head falling back as his thrusts speed up, fucking into your hand with just a hint of desperation. You can feel him throbbing against you, and you moan softly, dropping your other hand to roll his balls in your palm. A gentle squeeze draws a deeper groan from him, and his hips stutter as he gets closer, so you reluctantly let go of his balls and undo your shorts. He moans softly, sounding almost pained, his pretty blue eyes half-lidded and dark with desire.

“We don’t have time.” He reminds you, voice full of remorse as he squeezes your waist, and you laugh softly as you pull your shorts and underwear down just a little.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m just giving you somewhere to… leave your mark.” You purr, and he groans, pulling you closer to him. He cups your cheek instead of your ass as you stand face to face with him and pull your underwear and shorts out a little, aiming towards your cunt. He lets out a raspy moan of your name as he tips over the edge, hips stuttering as he coats your lower belly, pussy and underwear in cum. Once he’s done, you tuck him back into his racing suit and pull your underwear up to cover the sticky mess he’s made. You wiggle your shorts back up and button them, then pat his chest gently with your clean hand, licking a couple of stray drops of cum from your fingers.

“I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it.” You murmur, and you’re gone before he can even catch his breath, hooking your arm through Tony’s, “Sorry boys, hate to interrupt, but I’ve got to take Tony here and head over to the press ring.”

Tony follows you, and Clay calls a playful sounding goodbye as he heads into the garage. You spot Hunt making his way in that direction too and snort, almost feeling bad for Niki for the ribbing he’s likely about to get. Until you remember that his cum is dripping down over your cunt, and you won’t be able to get off until the qualifiers are done. Tony asks you about your talk with Niki, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and you nudge him in the arm with a scoff. He gives you a mildly judgemental look as you duck into a bathroom to wash your hands, but he doesn’t comment, except to remind you that if ever you weren’t happy, you need only tell him and he’d fix it.

Considering Tony’s contacts worldwide, you believe him.

Together, you tuck into the press area, and Tony cheers loudly while you take photos of the drivers getting into their cars. Throughout the qualifiers, you get some fairly good photos, though you pout a little when Jarier gets pole position. With the qualifiers over, Tony pauses to speak with a couple of reporters he knows, and you linger nearby to take photos. You turn to observe the drivers scurrying around their garages, only to freeze as you spot Niki through your viewfinder. He pauses a few steps away from you, hands on his slim hips, and you smile a little at the sight of him all dishevelled from driving. His hair is a little sweaty, curls sticking to his forehead, and you have to bite back a dreamy sigh.

“It has come to my attention that you might want to go to dinner with me.” Niki comments, and you raise an eyebrow at him, biting back a smile.

“Was that a question, honey?” You ask, and Niki’s eyes darken a hint at the nickname you’d only recently whispered in his ear. Unable to help yourself, you let your gaze trail over him, head to toe and then back up, and Niki cracks a smile at your obvious desire.

“Go to dinner with me tonight?” He asks, stepping closer to you, and you shiver as his hand skims over your waist, fitting into the curve like it belongs there.

“Do I have time to go back to my hotel and change? I’m a little sweaty, and I don’t think this outfit is appropriate for dinner.”

“We’re staying at the same hotel. I will come get you when I’m done here. What is your room number?”

You give it to him without hesitation, stepping a little closer to him and watching his gaze trail over you. He leans in closer to you, lips against your ear, and you shiver with delight at the feeling as you grip the front of his racing suit to steady yourself.

“You will not wash me off of you.”

Your thighs clench, and he rubs his thumb into your side gently, almost soothingly as you lean into him a little. You suck your lower lip into your mouth, biting it gently, and Niki pulls it free with his thumb.

“It is shameful that I have not yet kissed you, with what I let you do.” Niki murmurs, and you smile as you reluctantly step away from him, fairly sure that he won’t kiss you here.

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances,” You reply, your voice playful and low to avoid being overheard, “especially if you keep letting me do whatever I like with you.”

Niki lets out a soft laugh, and you can’t help but grin at the fondness in his eyes, “I will pick you up soon. Go. Then, we will see who is doing what they like.”

~

Two hours later finds you sitting at a table in a warm, surprisingly romantic restaurant, running your foot up the inner side of Niki’s calf while you tell him about some of the work you’ve done. You’re dressed in an a-line dress of layered muted pastel gossamers with a plunging neckline that Niki seems to appreciate considering the ample attention he’s paid to your assets while you ate. He’s told you a bit about his racing career, giving you the typical highlight reel and only opening up a bit more when you ask him about himself rather than his driving. He seems more interested in talking about you, which you can understand. You know he gets asked a million annoying questions about himself in every interview, and then often gets dogged on for giving short, straight-forward, or blunt answers. You tell him about the art school near your home, and the life modelling you’ve done, which he seems curious about but not jealous in the way you’ve had previous men in your life be.

You tell him stories about some of the highs and lows - a student who drew you so beautifully that you felt on a high for the next week, another who kept making your chest bigger than it was, and a third who was kicked out of the class because they kept asking if the class could do in depth anatomy drawing classes since you were naked anyways. You tell him about the modelling you’ve done, largely for your friends who were aiming at going into fashion photography and needed to build out their portfolios. Niki admits that Clay showed him the magazine with your perfume ad in it that morning, and you smile as you sip your wine, offering him a playful wink when he inquires if you’ve done any more nude modelling.

You skim your hand across the table clearly made for dates considering how close you two are, tracing your fingertips across his, and blush as he takes your hand and holds it gentler than any boyfriend you’ve ever had despite you not being his. Contrary to the statement made by the cum still marking your cunt. With his free hand, Niki eats the last bite on his plate, and you feel excited butterflies in your stomach at the thought of perhaps going home with him soon.

“Do you want to get dessert?” He asks you, and you smile, finishing your glass of wine. You slip your hand free of his, and Niki watches as you fidget for a moment before getting up. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, leaving a hint of a wine mark behind as you slip something into his pocket. He lets you, curious and intrigued by your bold nature, and far more focused on the pretty curve of your hip beside him.

“I’ll meet you outside. Don’t make me wait.” You whisper in his ear, then squeeze his shoulder and head out of the restaurant, past the waiter who seems to be returning to your table to see if Niki wants the bill. You step outside, your clutch in hand and your white heels clicking on the pavement as you enjoy the warm air outside. You hope you weren’t too bold, but when you peek in through the window, you spot Niki staring at the lacey fabric of your underwear pulled only slightly out of his pocket. He seems to have realised what it is, and he meets your eyes through the glass, bringing a coquettish smile on your lips. You wink, and his jaw clenches visibly. He tucks the fabric away just in time for the waiter to arrive with the bill, and Niki pays it so quickly you think he must’ve just let the waiter keep the change, for soon enough he’s walking out the front door towards you.

A strong hand closes around the curve of your hip, and you lean into him, gasping as he jerks you ever closer. He leads you towards the street, hailing a taxi with a simple wave of his hand while he whispers harshly in your ear, “You tempt fate, playing with me like this.”

“Do I? It certainly seems like you’re enjoying it.” You purr, giving him a pointed once-over. He opens the taxi door for you and helps you in, then sits beside you, his hand skimming over your thigh once you’re both settled. He gives the driver the hotel name, then leans into your ear again to avoid the man hearing him.

“I already want you. You do not need to keep seducing me.” He murmurs, and you laugh quietly as you cover his hand and slip it further up under the slit in your dress.

“Is that what you think I’m doing, Niki? Trying to catch your interest and keep it?” You ask, and he squeezes your soft thigh, his eyes dark with desire, “I know you want me, honey. I don’t think you quite know how much I want you, but you’ll learn.”

Niki’s breathing gets a little harsh, and you pet his arm soothingly, doing your best not to make a scene as he rubs his thumb into the meat of your leg.

“The seduction doesn’t stop when I catch your interest,” You inform him, your voice hushed and low, “nor does it stop when you fuck me. It does not stop when you go back to race tomorrow, or when we don’t see each other for a month until the next Grand Prix, or even if you make me yours. It does not stop when we are too tired, or when we are upset. It will continue until we no longer want each other.”

Niki lets out a quiet breath, and you perk up as the taxi pulls up in front of your hotel. The Austrian driver pays for the taxi, slipping out of the car and then helping you out as well. He steadies you, his arm around your waist again as he leads you into the large hotel, heading towards the elevator in thoughtful silence. You don’t question it when he pushes the button for his floor instead of yours. In the quiet of the elevator, he pulls you closer to him, cupping your face in his hand to gently tilt your head back. He presses his lips to yours, gently at first, then a little more hungrily when you moan into his mouth. Your arms slip lazily around his neck, and he sighs into the kiss when one hand tangles into his curls, your manicured nails scraping against his scalp.

You break the kiss as you near his floor, letting him lead you towards his room, his pace just a little bit more hurried than it was before. The door clicks open, and Niki guides you through it, kicking it closed behind him while he pulls you into another kiss. Now, in the comfort of his hotel room without anyone around to see, you smoothly undo the buttons on his shirt while he sucks at your lower lip, then breaks away to nip your top lip. You pant together, both struck breathless as you finally get his shirt open and shove it down over his shoulders.

“You’re in such a rush, mouse.” Niki murmurs as he finds the zipper on the side of your dress and pulls it all the way down to your hip. You frown at him to show your displeasure at his teasing, but it doesn’t knock the grin from his face as he lets you yank his undershirt over his head. He puts a hand over your ribs, thumb tracing the soft line under your breast while you unbutton his jeans, and you sigh into his mouth as he kisses you like he wants to devour you. You’ve just got his jeans undone when he finally pulls the sleeves of your dress down your arms, and you gasp as he guides you to step back out of it, his hands already slipping back to undo your bra. He pushes you back onto the bed once it’s discarded, and you pull your legs up, scooting back a little on the mattress. He catches your ankle before you can get out of his reach, and you feel your cheeks get hot as he parts your legs to admire what remains of the mess he made of you that morning.

“I liked this.” Niki informs you as he rubs his thumb over the messy seam of your cunt, and you shiver with excitement as he pulls you open a little so he can see how far down his cum dripped.

“So did I.” You admit, and his gaze flicks up to you before he pushes his jeans and underwear down over his hips. Your eyes go half-lidded with desire at the sight of his pretty cock, and you welcome him with open arms as he crawls onto the bed on top of you. He trails kisses up your body as he goes, pausing to suck your nipples into his mouth, first one, and then the other. You grasp at his hair, a happy sigh escaping you, though it turns into a ragged moan as Niki slips first one, and then a second finger into you. He crooks them, and you gasp as he strokes across that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl while his thumb presses into your clit.

“Fuck, Niki.” You moan, and he smiles against your skin, trailing kisses across your heaving chest while he pumps his fingers into you. His lips meet yours for another kiss, and you roll your hips to meet him, fucking yourself on his hand while he bites your bottom lip. He scissors his fingers, then adds a third, stretching you out and making you dig your nails into his back. He groans, biting the top of your tit and pulling his fingers free of you to give his cock a couple of firm strokes. You sit up on your elbows as he opens the drawer on his night table and pulls out a foil packet. Niki starts to climb onto the bed, but you lean up to meet him, pushing him to sit up at the head of the bed.

“You are very… bold.” Niki murmurs as you crawl up over his legs to straddle his thighs, “you wish to be on top? To take what you want?”

You hum your agreement, ripping open the condom packet and rolling it onto him while he smooths his hands up over your thighs. Thankfully, he seems agreeable, even if he’s mildly surprised.

“And what is it you want, mouse?” He asks, supporting you as you put one hand on his shoulder and reach behind you with the other, positioning him against you. He lets out a quiet moan, stroking your thighs, then skimming his hands up to grip your hips.

“You, Niki.” You moan as you seat yourself on his cock, sinking down until he’s balls deep inside of you. You drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair while the other hand grasps at his shoulder blades, and you press your chest firmly to his. He kisses you hard, grasping your hips and guiding you to start to ride him as he moans into your mouth, not so much kissing as you’re sharing breath. He’s long, filling you completely, and thick enough that it’s a little bit of a stretch to take him. The slight curve of his cock strokes against a spot inside you with every thrust that makes you whimper and grip him a little tighter, desperate for more. You break the whisper of a kiss and let your head fall back as you ride him hard, setting an eager pace that makes your thighs ache. Niki skims his hands up to cup your tits, closing his lips around your nipple and scraping his teeth across it in a way that makes you whine for more before he switches to the other one.

You gasp as Niki reaches between you to strum your clit, and he groans lowly as you tug on his hair. You begin to move faster, and Niki leans back a little bit to watch you, admiring the way your tits bounce with every thrust. He looks beautiful like this, one hand clutching your side and helping you move, lips parted around a moan, glistening with just a little bit of sweat. You wonder how anyone could ever call him a rat. How anyone could be so blind as to miss how gorgeous he is. And yet you’re happy they did miss it, because now he’s here, under you, letting you take your pleasure from him. Your thighs are burning, and you’re fairly sure you’re going to be sore later, but you’re also rattling towards a stellar orgasm and you couldn’t be happier. With Niki fucking Lauda.

“That’s it, mausi, take it. Take what you need from me.” Niki groans, circling your clit and panting for breath as he does his best to hold on until you come. You moan for him desperately, and he plants his feet to thrust up into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Thank God for Niki. He notices you about to scream as you come for him and guides your mouth to his neck, which you bite down on instinctively, clinging to him as if he’ll give you mercy. A guttural groan rumbles against you as Niki quickly finds his own peak only a couple of thrusts later, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure you’ll be bruised afterwards. 

Niki carefully guides you down onto the mattress, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he slips into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He returns to you shortly after, crawling onto the bed over you and burying his face in your chest. You pet his hair gently, letting out a sleepy laugh as he nuzzles against your breasts, humming with contentment that makes your heart swell in your chest. You rub his shoulders, and he lets out a happy, muffled moan against your skin as he slips his hands under your back to hold you.

“Sorry for biting you.” You murmur, and Niki chuckles against your chest, scraping his teeth over the curve of your breast.

“You haven’t hurt me, mouse.” He replies, “Relax. Perhaps, if you are good, I’ll fuck you again before we sleep.”

~

In fact, he fucks you twice more that night. Once on your hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress as Niki rails you like he’s trying to exorcise his demons through your cunt. Then, in the shower you take together afterwards, back pressed into the cold tiles with Niki’s forehead nuzzled against yours, more intimate than you ever thought you’d get from what you presumed would be a one night stand or a race fling. While you use another condom the second time, Niki simply pulls out after making you lose your mind on his cock in the shower, spreading your cunt open so he can cover you in his cum.

He reluctantly lets you wash it off after, and you sleepily promise that he can come on you in the morning, crawling under the sheets with him. In the morning, he takes you up on your offer, lazily fucking you from behind with your leg pulled back over his hip as he strokes your clit. This time, you reach back to stop him from pulling out, telling him you’re on birth control while he presses kisses into your shoulder. He groans against your skin, and you find yourself gasping for air as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Heat floods you, and you moan helplessly as Niki fucks his cum deeper into you, redoubling his efforts to make you come before he gets oversensitive.

The mattress shifts behind you as Niki gets up, leaning over you to press a kiss to your temple, then heading into the bathroom to clean up. You roll out of bed, and Niki returns to find you wrapped in a bedsheet and staring out the window, and you lean into him when he steps up behind you and puts his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you sigh dreamily.

“You can borrow something.” Niki murmurs against your skin, and you tilt your head to kiss him, enjoying what you know might be the last few moments of afterglow before he’s done with you. Niki breaks it reluctantly, stepping away to rummage through his luggage and find a shirt and boxer briefs for you. You get changed, finger-combing your hair to neaten it, then helping Niki button his shirt while you steal a couple of kisses before you leave.

“I’ll see you at the track.” You murmur against his lips, and he hums, giving your bottom a firm squeeze.

“Come to the garage. You can watch the race from there.” Niki replies, and you can’t help but smile.

“That’s bold. People will ask questions if you have a photographer waiting in the garage for you.” You remind him, and Niki looks at you blankly.

“They can ask all they like. My woman will cheer for me from my garage, not wait in the sun in the stands like everyone else.” Niki retorts, and you feel your stomach flip, heart beating nearly out of your chest.

“Your woman?” You clarify, and Niki pulls you closer to him, kissing you hard enough that your teeth clack together clumsily. It does nothing to take away from your eagerness, and you clench your fingers in his shirt, knees going just a little weak. You’ll never admit it, though.

“You think I am so careless to come in any woman? I have condoms for a reason, mouse.” Niki reminds you, and you gasp against his mouth, eyes rolling back as your cunt throbs, “unless, you do not want to be mine.”

“Don’t be stupid, Niki Lauda. You know what I want.”

~

After the Brazil Grand Prix, you spend the early evening bent over the edge of Niki’s bed, or grasping the headboard for dear life as he fucks out the adrenaline high of racing into your sweet body. You’re booked for another late flight home, and Niki barely lets you go in time to make it to the airport, even though he’s got his own early flight in the morning. You head home with promises to visit Niki in Vienna once you’ve settled your work commitments and sent off your photos to their respective buyers. You talk to each other at least every other evening, though you both have a lot going on. One evening, you even drag your phone into the bathroom so that you can talk to Niki while you’re in the bathtub, and he expresses regret that he can’t share it with you. It takes far too long, in your opinion, to get your business settled. But finally, nearly two weeks later, you call Niki earlier in the day than you usually do.

“I’m ready. So, if you still want me, I can be in Vienna as early as tomorrow.” You inform him instead of saying hello, and Niki’s breathy sigh crackles over the landline.

“Tell me where to pick you up, and when. I will be there.” Niki replies, and you giggle, excitement bubbling in your belly.

“So it’s a good thing that I booked a plane ticket arriving tomorrow without asking?”

“Bold, as always, mouse. What time am I picking you up?” Thankfully, Niki sounds amused rather than annoyed.

“I arrive at Vienna Airport at eleven am tomorrow. My flight leaves at 7:30 tonight. So, I’ll be getting on the plane while you’re fast asleep at 2:30 am.” You inform him, “At 11 am, it will be 4 am for me, so I’m taking a nap on the plane so I can try and beat jet lag.”

“We will have a lazy day.” Niki promises, and you sigh happily at the idea, folding a pair of jeans to tuck into your suitcase.

“Should I bring anything in particular?”

“I will take you out to dinner - something suitable for that. It is mild this time of year. Similar to your weather, I believe.” Niki comments, and you laugh as you pack a knit sweater.

“So, no requests for lingerie? Short skirts? Plunging necklines?” You inquire, and Niki gives a thoughtful hum, as if he hadn’t even thought of requesting anything.

“I trust your taste, mouse. Bring what you think I will like, and I will do my best to show you my appreciation.”

“Yessir.”

~

After an eight hour and fifteen minute flight that you entirely slept through, you pick up your luggage after going through customs, and spot Niki waiting for you from a distance. There is no dramatic reunion. You don’t run across the airport into his waiting arms to kiss his face off like in a movie. Instead, you walk calmly over to him, and he takes the handle of your luggage, putting his arm around you and greeting you with a gentle kiss to your cheek and a query as to how your flight was.

He opens the door to his car for you, helping you in, then putting your luggage in the trunk. You squeeze his thigh when he gets into the car, and you notice him smiling as he drives away from the busy airport towards his home. You stroke his thigh as he drives, and you can’t pretend you don’t notice the stirring in his trousers. It does nothing to stop you, of course. You have plenty of plans for your Niki. As you get to a less busy area of town, you hum thoughtfully to yourself, then pull your hair back out of your face. Niki glances at you curiously as you reach over towards him, unzipping his trousers.

“Woah- mouse, what are you doing?”

“Whatever I like.” You retort, pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxer briefs and swirling your tongue around the leaky tip.

“Mouse…” Niki groans softly, wrapping your hair around his hand and pulling gently as if to stop you.

“If you can’t focus, pull over.” You hum, slapping his cock against your tongue a couple of times, then taking him into your mouth. Niki grumbles to himself above your head, letting out a low, growly groan. You hear the gentle tick of the turn signal, and then the bumps and rumble of the car pulling off the road. As soon as the car turns off, Niki’s hands tangle in your hair, and you moan around his cock as he pulls.

“Fuck, mausi. You could not wait?” Niki asks, and you hum an affirmative, bobbing your head at a leisurely pace, “No, of course not. You were too desperate for my cock, weren’t you?”

You slip your hand into his underwear to roll his balls in your palm, and he groans, bucking up into your mouth then apologising hoarsely as he pets your hair back from your face. You moan around him encouragingly, then decide that Niki deserves your somewhat unique talent. He’s been good to you. Blown your mind enough times despite your limited time together. You let him slip from your mouth, swallowing the precum and saliva pooling in your mouth, then taking a couple of deep breaths.

“Feel free to thrust, if you like. I can take it, honey.” You purr, and before Niki can ask for clarification, you take him back into your mouth, sinking down until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. Niki groans, guttural and low, his head thumping back against the headrest hard. Rumbling german interspersed with the occasional english swear word falls from Niki’s lips as you swallow him down, wiping every thought from his mind until his gentlemanly ways fall lax and he begins to fuck into your mouth eagerly. You moan helplessly as he chases his release, gripping your hair tightly as he finally falls over the edge.

“Don’t swallow yet. Let me see.” He pants, and you obediently do your best not to swallow or let any of his cum leak from your overstuffed mouth. Breathing through your nose, you sit up in your seat and situate yourself, then open your mouth to show off the mess he’s made of you. Niki moans softly, tapping your chin.

“Swallow.”

You obediently do, and he leans across the short distance to kiss you, licking into your mouth to taste himself off your tongue.

“When we get to my home, I will show you around. You will put down your things, and then I am going to ruin you for any other man.” Niki whispers against your lips, and you moan softly, letting out a little whimper when he leans back into his seat to put himself away and then resume the drive home.

And ruin you he does. As promised, Niki takes you on a tour of the home, his hand tucked into your back pocket. You put your luggage in his room, and then he takes you into the bathroom to take a bath, though you’re sure you nearly cause a flood with how much water flows over the edge when he fucks you. Afterwards, nice and clean, he takes you down to his living room and you try to watch a film together, but Niki ends up not seeing much of it as he kneels in front of his couch between your legs and makes you see stars on his mouth.

You have a light lunch, then curl up together for a nap, your head pillowed on Niki’s chest with you curled around him. You wake to Niki laying you back on the couch beneath him, covering your neck and chest in kisses as he flips up your skirt and pulls down your tights.

“Is this okay?” He asks, and you moan softly as he sucks your nipple into his mouth.

“Niki, you can fuck me whenever you like. Even if I’m sleeping, you don’t have to wake me up. If I’m not into it, I will tell you, but I promise you I’ll almost always be into it.” You murmur, and Niki groans as he yanks your underwear down and positions himself. He slips inside easily, still all pliant and wet from before your nap, and you relax beneath him and let him take what he needs. You’re still half-asleep, so you don’t participate nearly as much as you usually do, but Niki seems to like the sleepy moans and whimpers he’s able to pull from you, and the way you hold onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping you together.

The rest of your visit in Vienna goes similarly. Lazy morning sex seems to be a necessity for both of you. Breakfast is always a quiet but gentle affair, curled up together while you eat. Niki takes you to art galleries, museums, and historical sites. Some days, he takes you on walks. Some days, you don’t leave the house much at all, and you begin to realise how easy things are together. You take enough pictures of your boyfriend to open a Niki Lauda gallery, and he lets you drag him to a darkroom to develop many of them, which results in Niki fucking you in the low lit room with his hand over your mouth to stop anyone from hearing you.

You fly to South Africa together, and you only spend one night in your own hotel room before Niki drags you back to his own, complaining about poor sleep. Once again, Niki is disappointed with the results of the race, and he follows you back home instead of going to Vienna to enjoy the nearly two-month break before the Spanish Grand Prix. You end up in Ibiza for a good month of that break, lazing in the sun, swimming, or giving each other couples massages. You end up being the better masseuse of the two of you, and Niki lets you work out his stress until he melts underneath you, his pretty blue eyes half-lidded and happy.

It’s bliss, honestly. By the time Spain rolls around, you’ve dropped all pretence. Everyone knows you’re together - Tony, Hunt and Clay are all beyond thrilled. Hunt asks you far too many questions about your sex life, and you answer none of them, except to inform him that you are thoroughly satisfied. Tony warns Niki that no one will find his body if he hurts you, and Niki doesn’t seem bothered by the threat, confident that it won’t be necessary. Clay simply seems pleased that Niki is perhaps more at ease, and that you’re happy together.

Spain ends up being a nightmare. The race is cancelled part way through due to dangerous conditions and crashes, and Niki needs the break to work with his team. You end up spending the break working as well, away from Niki, and while it is difficult, you make quite a bit of money. Your work is hot at the moment, and plenty of people are happy to pay for your photographs of other sporting events.

Monaco changes things. Niki wins. And he keeps his momentum, winning three Grand Prixs in a row, placing second in another, then first again in France. Great Britain is a mess all around, but Niki recovers with a third place in West Germany. Austria is another mess on par with Spain with the race ending early and only half points awarded. In Italy, Niki secures his championship with a third place, but he goes on to win first in the United States anyways as if to prove he earned it with his fifth first place of the season.

He proposes after the season is over, and you marry at the courthouse in Vienna. He goes home with you to pack your things after you manage to secure a visa due to your marriage, and you move your belongings across the ocean without a single thought of looking back. Niki only breaks the news to the press when he is caught wearing his wedding ring at a post-championship interview, and he’s not thrilled to have most of his interview questions diverted to his recent wedding, but he answers what he’s willing to. Which isn’t very much, frankly.

~

“Does that feel good?” You whisper as you stroke your hands up over your husband’s arms to squeeze his triceps almost reverently. Niki’s eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, quiet moans falling from his pretty pink lips. You watch with a smile as his muscles flex against the soft silk tying his wrists to the headboard, and you can’t help but sigh adoringly as he catches his lower lip between his teeth, emphasising his overbite in such a pretty way that you want to take a picture of him. Not that he’d ever let you. 

Not that you’d ever want anyone else to see him like this. You’ve very possessive of Niki’s submissive side.

“Mausi.” Niki murmurs warningly, and you give him a sharp look, eyebrow raised as if you can’t believe him. You can. Niki is terrible at being patient in bed, and while he enjoys submitting to you, he does not enjoy it when you tease him. Or rather, he does, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t. Male pride, you assume.

“What is it, sweetheart?” You ask, pouting at him mockingly as you run your hands down over his chest, thumbs swiping across his sensitive nipples. He jerks beneath you, letting out a raspy moan that has you cooing sympathetically, “Ohh, are you sensitive, baby?”

Niki presses his head back into the pillows, moaning breathlessly as you pinch his nipples between your index fingers and thumbs, sitting your bare ass back against his hard cock as you tweak them. A gentle pull has Niki bucking up against you, digging his heels into the bed to try and get some leverage so he can thrust up against you. It’s difficult with his ankles bound to the footboard, but he tries regardless, desperate for more contact. You pull again a little more sharply, and Niki lets out the softest whimper, an angelic look of submission on his face as he pushes his chest up into your hands rather than pulls away.

This is when you give him mercy. You lean down, cupping his pecs from below and pushing them up while you bring his right nipple into your mouth and suck harshly. Niki groans, and you flick your tongue over him a couple of times, then bite gently when his nipple gets hard. You’ve missed him so much while he was gone, nearly a week without him feeling like too much even though it isn’t the first time. You lovingly kiss your way across his chest to his other nipple and repeat the process, but this time, you adjust your hips so you’re pinning his cock between your wet cunt and his stomach. You start to roll your hips, grinding on his cock in a mimicry of the pussyjobs he’s used your cunt for in the past. He’s especially fond of them when you’re half-asleep and pliant, in the early hours of the morning with the sun's first light kissing your skin through the partially open curtains. He says you look like a painting like that, only you’re his, so he can touch the artwork all he likes.

Niki blinks up at you with hazy eyes, lips parted and panting for breath as you toy with him. His pretty blue eyes are full of love and lust, your personal favourite look on him, and you smile as he arches again, pulling on the silk binding him to the bed desperately. You smile, tangling your fingers in his hair and gently pulling his head up, forcing him to look down his own body so he can see the leaky pink head of his cock peeking out from beneath your cunt. There’s a little puddle of his precum on his belly, and he flushes as he realises how much he’s dripping.

“Do you want more, baby? Do you want your mausi to sit on your pretty cock and make you feel good?” You ask, and Niki nods as much as he can with you still holding his head up, “Do you want to fill your mausi with cum? Wanna get her pregnant?”

Niki moans eagerly, nodding again, and you grin as you release his hair and let his head fall back to the pillows. You lean down, lips pressing against his ear while you stroke his cheek lovingly, “I’ve been off my birth control since you left for testing. It’s been almost a full week, so it’s well out of my system.”

That gets a reaction out of him.

“Put my cock in your perfect little cunt, mausi. Let me stuff you full of my cum and I promise I’ll get you pregnant with my child.” Niki moans, and you practically purr with delight, scooping up his precum with your fingers and rubbing it over his cock until he’s slick and glistening. You lift your hips and rub the head of his cock through the wetness dripping from you, then notch the head against your hole. You sink down until he’s buried inside of you and you can feel his balls clenching.

“You promise, honey?”

“I swear.” Niki replies instantly, breathless, and you can feel him twitching against you, desperate to roll you over and fuck you into the sheets. He watches with wide eyes as you arch back to grab the little emergency release ties you’d learned to do since you started tying each other up, freeing his ankles from their bonds with one tug. Niki immediately plants his feet in the mattress and starts to buck up into you, and you gasp, falling forwards into his chest while he fucks up into you.

You reach up towards his wrists, tugging the release ties, and Niki surges up before you even have a chance to sit back on him. He rolls you over onto your back, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing them up, folding you in half. He plants his hands into the mattress with your knees hooked over his elbows, and you stare up at him with wide eyes as he slowly pulls out, then slams back into you. He sets a somewhat eager pace, faster than he usually takes you, and you find yourself gasping for breath as you grasp at the sheets beneath you.

“Niki!” You cry, and he groans, leaning down to kiss you surprisingly softly considering how roughly he’s pounding into you. It’s a pretty stark contrast to the sex you’ve had over the past many months, and more reminiscent of the desperate and lust-charged fucking of your early days together.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, “I’m going to fuck a baby into you, mausi. My perfect little wife.”

You can’t form words, but there are tears in your eyes as you try to catch your breath. He kisses them away, dropping his hand between you to stroke your clit, and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nod if you’re okay, mausi.”

You nod firmly, and he nuzzles his nose against yours, then kisses you again, moaning into your mouth as he gets closer. You finally find your words as you’re about to come, crying against his lips, “I love you too, Niki!”

It’s the last conscious thought you have for the next few minutes. You come back to yourself as Niki is rolling you both over, laying back on the mattress with you on top of him, your face tucked into the curve of his neck. You can feel the warmth of his cum buried inside of you, deep enough that it’s not yet leaking back out. Your husband pets your hair gently, adjusting you just a little so he’s no longer buried inside of you to avoid either of you getting oversensitive and achey. You hum sleepily, and Niki presses a kiss to your temple, his chest rising and lowering rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. You pull the blankets up over the both of you, and Niki strokes your back as you both settle in to go to sleep, too tired to move.

And six weeks later, you find yourself sitting in your doctor’s office with your very proud husband as your doctor tells you that you are, in fact, pregnant. Niki swears he got it done with that first stellar fuck after returning from his testing with Ferrari, but you couldn’t care less, pleased as punch to find yourself pregnant so quickly. Soon, you’ll have a baby Lauda in your arms.

Who would have ever thought that you’d meet your future husband when you went to do a favour for your best friend? Who knew you’d meet your future baby daddy at one of your least favourite sports?

Niki still got blushy when you told him you knew he was yours the moment you set eyes on him, even now, months into your marriage. It was true, though. You knew the moment you saw him - the moment he inspired you, and captured your creative eye. He was your rat, and you were his mouse, and you had the rings to prove it.

[angelicsoka]

THE HAT RULE, t. owens

word count | 1.7k words

pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader

summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is. 

warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended. 

a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.

the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through  your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel. 

tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.

that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.

“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.

“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare. 

“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles. 

“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.

“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.

“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:

“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.

by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.

“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”

“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”

“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks. 

“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–”  you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.

“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave. 

you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties. 

your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.

“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more. 

you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.

“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.

“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head. 

as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.

“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”

“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.” 

[museiest]

WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER .ᐟ gojo satoru

PAIRING. ceo!gojo x kindergarten teacher!reader

ABOUT. ceo!gojo discovers he has a son which leads him to the harmony fields kindergarten, where the woman who almost ran into him with her car in the morning is his son's teacher and the cause of his future sleepless nights.

NOTES. it's finally here!! had some trouble with the written part of this smau so that's why i took so long in posting it, this was the winner in this poll. this is a multi-part smau. harmony fields is the name of the kindergarten.

WARNINGS. enemies to lovers ⋆ typos ⋆ ignore timestamps ⋆ english is not my first language ⋆ written part (is sh!t y'all) ⋆ gojo's is insufferable ⋆ utahime's the owner of harmony fields ⋆ written part takes place a day after the incident and it's 1,04k words.

part one | part two | part three | more?

“Okay. . .remember what we practiced?” the white-haired man immediately asked as he helped the boy out of his car.

The kid nodded slowly and looked up at Satoru, waiting for him to hand over the chips he bought for him on the way here.

“I’ll give them to you, kid, but first, let’s practice one more time,” Satoru warned, “You're going to say that i'm your dad and that your mom is away on a trip, 'kay?”

“But you said that you weren't my dad, and my mom isn’t on a trip,” the boy pointed out seriously, making the blue-eyed man sigh.

“Just say it, please? if you don’t, i’ll take you to the police station and let them deal with you," Satoru threatened with a unsettling smile.

“He’s my dad, and my mom is away on a trip,” Megumi repeated, irritated by the man.

Truth is, he missed his mom and he wished she was there with him instead of the stranger who was taking care of him now.

“Yes! Good boy,” Satoru ruffled the Megumi’s hair like he was petting a dog, he definitely wasn't used to dealing with kids, especially one his age.

How do you even treat a five-year old? Was what had been going through Gojo's head since his son arrived at his apartment.

“Ah, Gojo! Right on time, looks like having a son is finally doing you some good,” Utahime called out as she walked towards the entrance of her kindergarten, where the dad and son duo were.

“Utahime, my least favorite person! it's been, what? two months?" he sneered.

“It’s always such a disgrace seeing you, Gojo," she said bitterly before putting on her best smile and looking at the five-year-old, “And you must be Megumi, right?”

“He’s my dad, and my mom is on a trip,” Megumi stated almost robotically, making the Harmony Field's director laugh.

“Wow, how cool!” she exclaimed, gesturing for them to follow her inside.

“Yeah, his mom is at a seminar in Europe,” the ceo lied smoothly.

“Europe? You must be very proud, Megumi,” the dark-haired woman tried to make some chitchat but Megumi remained silent, walking behind them as quietly as possible.

“’Gumi doesn’t talk much, but it’s something i- we’ve been working on. . .” Satoru excused himself with another lie, though Utahime barely paid attention, too focused on you approaching. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the new dad and the new kid joining your class.

“Yn! Come over here, this is Gojo Satoru and his son, Megumi,” Utahime introduced, making your eyes widen in surprise as soon as you locked eyes with the man you almost hit with your car on your way to the kindergarten.

“You?/You?” you both said at the same time, his eyes sharp enough that if looks could kill, you'd be in a coffin with people saying how good of a person you were; and you just forced a polite smile to hide your annoyance at seeing him at your workplace, such arrogant man didn't seem like a father to you, not even a bad one, he just seemed like the kind of guy who didn't care for kids at all but there he was, putting on his best smile with his son who didn't look like him at all except for his eyes and messy hair.

“You two know each other?” your friend and colleague asked, looking between you both expectantly.

“Yeah. . .turns out this dad likes to go running in the middle of the street in the morning,” you muttered through gritted teeth, making the man scoff.

“Right. And it seems like there's more and more of those crazy drivers these days, dangerous, isn’t it?” Satoru shot back. You barely heard Utahime’s response, too focused on the annoyance bubbling inside you. Who did this guy think he was? He had to be some kind of irresponsible deranged idiot.

You rolled your eyes once more before glancing down and noticing the little boy looking at you curiously.

You crouched down to meet his eyes and be able to speak to him directly, the first impression with children was always the most important to you rather than the one with the parent, “Hi, sweetheart! you must be Megumi, how are you?” you asked kindly, you've loved kids since forever and it didn’t matter that this particular kid belonged to the most insufferable man you'd ever met.

Megumi’s eyes looked sad, distant and lost, as if all he wanted was to be anywhere but here. Still, you tried talking to him, sensing his struggle in interacting with people.

When he didn’t respond, you continued, “You know, in the classroom there's lots of kids your age who can’t wait to meet you. They’ve been so excited ever since we told them a new friend for them was coming. And guess what? Today’s your lucky day because we have a special activity with puppies! How does that sound?” you asked with a warm smile and at the mention of 'puppies,' Megumi’s eyes lit up, an expression of excitement appearing on his face for the first time since he got there along with a soft smile. Even Satoru seemed surprised to see it, he hadn't smiled at all when he was at his apartment and now he does with a complete stranger? not that he wasn't one either but the father (if you could call him that) had tried everything the day before to make the kid laugh and all he got was a 'you're not funny' from him.

“Are there really going to be puppies?” Megumi asked, a special glimmer in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Of course! So what do you say? Want to wait for them with the other kids?” you asked, extending your hand to his smaller one. Megumi glanced between his dad and you before nodding and taking your hand with a small smile still on his lips and that was the first step to make this kid as happy as he could be.

Without hesitation, you led him towards the rest of the class, happy that your first interaction with the boy had been a success. You just hoped things would stay that way, today, tomorrow and hopefully forever.

ARTIFACTS .ᐟ

• hari fushiguro is megumi's aunt, she's took care of him for two weeks and that was it. she didn't have enough money to raise him and her daughter so she went to gojo's apt since she remembered he had a lot of money when they hooked up and made up a story about her sister and him.

• toji's dead and tsumiki doesn't exist in this one since toji died before megumi was born.

• his mom died two weeks ago but since he's still a kid, he doesn't know how to process it so he thinks his mom left him and that's why his aunt didn't want him either.

• ofc gojo isn't his father but they make him believe he is.

• that's all!! enjoy <3

© MUSEIEST 2025

[rottiens]

WHISPERS OF RECONCILIATION ┊S. GOJŌ

✮ word count: 1.8k

✮ summary. your husband is less and less at home due to missions he can't turn down, so every time he comes back, you feel him more distant.

✮ tags. . husband gojō x afab reader, they have a daughter, marital problems, angst to fluff, canon au, the struggle of being a first time mom. divider creds: cafekitsune.

You turn on the faucet, releasing the stream of water as you hear the front door open.

The noise doesn't scare you or stop you from your task since you know it's him. As you cover the sponge with the fun bubbles from the dishwashing gel, you hear his footsteps like a muffled distant noise, in the passage from the main entrance to where you are, his presence looms like lightning warning of a storm. All the lights are off except for the one in the kitchen which makes gojo trace his path directly towards you.

It doesn't take long for his arms to wrap around your waist from behind. You don't flinch, unlike when you did at the beginning of the relationship.

"What?" Gojo laughs at the line of your neck, it's a snort that denotes weariness. He smells of beer, far beneath that are traces of the perfume he had soaked himself in this morning when he left the house. "No reaction now?" Gojo breathes your skin, you smell of sweat and dirty clothes and the kisses he leaves on your neck make your stomach clench.

You do your best to pretend that his touch doesn't set your skin on fire, that his long fingers slipping under your nightgown have no effect on you.

The grip on the innocent plate tightens, a little, then tighter. Gojo keeps breathing into the shell of your ear, just behind the cartilage where he manages to bristle your skin until you can pretend no more and set the plate aside causing a clatter in the puddle of water, your fingers form fists under the warm spray of the faucet.

"Stop." It's not a command but a gentle request, you press your lips together and gojo stops right away.

"Are we still fighting?" Gojo sounds like a puppy you just kicked to the curb and yet he doesn't insist, pulls his hands off your body and takes a step back, you almost instantly regret it.

"Yes," you reply after a while, to a question he forgot he asked.

You hear him sigh heavily, then you feel him grab you by the waist and with your help you allow him to turn around until you are facing him. You refuse to look at him however after a while you give in, his tousled hair falls like snowflakes across his forehead, his eyes are naked, blue and alert staring at you. On top of his uniform he had a denim jacket on, you're sure it didn't cover him much from the winter cold and that probably geto lent it to him when they went out drinking because your gojo always forgot his coats.

You imagine him going reluctantly, just not to say no to his best friend, because your gojo hates the taste of alcohol as much as you do.

Gojo doesn't move, he lets his hand seek yours without detaching from your eyes. His fingers are icy cold and you shiver at the sudden touch, suddenly Gojo is taking your hand into his mouth. His lips rest on the back of your wet hand, droplets of water manage to reach the floor and his shoes and you let him do it because the scene is too commniveddorative to damage the moment.

His mouth murmurs a sorry for each kiss he deposits. Immediately your damp skin releases him from the cold of the street and when he kisses you a fourth time, you can feel them grow warmer. Gojo suddenly stops from the task and looks up at you from his position raising his eyebrows, your hand still close to your mouth, so close that his next words brush your skin. "I don't like it when we fight."

You don't like it either. But you had no choice but to stop talking and frown as you gave him a killing look when he told you he couldn't say no to a mission. What did he mean by that? you wondered. His daughter was three months old and all he did was miss her first babbles, not being home when you needed him, barely changing her diapers and barely feeding her.

Your feet are killing you, your muscles looked like they had been bitten by a giant monster and the circles under your eyes were getting darker with each passing day.

"You're frowning." When gojo speaks again, you notice that his back is straight now.

Slowly you move away from his touch and your arm returns to you, dangling beside your body.

"I don't want to talk about it."

You get ready to turn around to focus on washing the dishes, including his because his dinner got cold in the dining room, next to yours, while you were feeding your little girl, however gojo interrupts you by returning to make prey to your hips with his hands and thus sticking you a second time to his body. 

"Leave it. I'll do it." 

Your lungs fill and soon empty with another exhalation. And before gojo can respond to anything else you were already leaving the room.

You were tired, you could feel it in the way your bare feet dragged the floor beneath them, swollen and full of calluses. Gojo watches you as you turn the corner and lose yourself in the hallway with a dark aura surrounding your whole figure and your shoulders being pulled by the force of the floor.

Gojo returns to the dishes in front of him. Only his, a glass and a pair of forks remained, which he washed without haste.

The silence of the kitchen serves as an executioner that punishes him along with his thoughts for his actions. Gojo thinks about the day, thinks about his girl and thinks about you and how unfair it must be for you to have given up these months of being a sorceress who risked her life every day to be a full-time mother while the drab and boring walls loom over you.

His footsteps are long and silent, Gojo crosses the hallway where he can hear water spurting from part of the guest bathroom. He thinks about stopping at the door and asking you if you need anything else, however he leaves you this moment alone and heads towards the baby's room. Gojo pushes the door causing a rustic scream from the wood, in the background there is an acoustic melody playing and a bluish night light carrying in them figures of stars and moons swaying on the walls of the room. Gojo had bought it especially for her, it was the first gift he bought when you told him you were pregnant. The memory makes him smile, nostalgic.

Gojo restrains himself from stretching his arms and pulling her to his chest. So he just bends his back until his spine complains and deposits a soft kiss on her forehead that his girl never feels, since he activates his technique in time to not touch her and prevent her from waking up.

Just as he came in, he left. He no longer hears you in the hallway, there is no more water dripping from the shower, yet there are wet footsteps going towards the shared room that give away that you were done.

Gojo slips into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and contemplates himself in the mirror for a moment, still the same as always, with a couple of black spots under his eyes and the occasional irritated red vein in the infinite sea of his blue eyes. He fills his lungs with your scent, the liquid gel of vanilla flowers bounces inside the four walls of the bathroom, he drops his eyelids and buries his fingers in the ceramic of the sink.

Gojo takes off his jacket and lays it on the floor, then discards the rest of his clothes. His fingers curl around the faucet and he lets the hot water wash away the traces of the day from him as he relives over and over again the arguments you’ve had these past months. 

The soap scrubs away the weariness of the day along with his dreary thoughts, these run down the drain along with the dirty suds that the water bathes off his body.

Once he is done, he wraps a towel around his hips. He turns off the rest of the lights and goes to bed.

You are on your side of the mattress with your back to the door, everything is dark except for the moonbeams that manage to enter through the crack that the curtains cannot protect. He closes the door with a soft sound and turns to you, leaving the towel hanging behind the door, gojo climbs into bed with his body and soul naked.

He knows you're not sleeping. It takes him a moment to find his voice, lost in the spots on the ceiling, he searches for the right word he should use instead of "I'm sorry."

"I," he clears his throat, one finger tapping his own rib. "I'm not going to school tomorrow."

At first gojo thinks you are sleeping, you say nothing and your breathing is slow and steady.

"And?" That's all you say, encouraging him to keep talking.

"I will tell Yaga that I need a couple of weeks off, I want to have these days together with my wife and daughter."

You don't answer again, you let your body do the talking. You push further into him, your ass collides with his side and he laughs softly, improving his posture to better embrace you from behind. His arms immediately cling to your waist in a possessive manner, drawing you to his chest where you feel his ragged breathing.

"I'm still upset," you finally say, feeling him smile against your ear as he squeezes your body tighter. "But I guess that's a start."

"You have worked so hard these days and I am sorry to leave you alone, I promise I will make it up to you, there is no justification in having left you alone these weeks." You force your lip between your teeth to keep from giving him the pleasure of making you smile. "I'm going to start with cooking tomorrow."

You laugh instantly, gojo pulls you further into his body, threatening to tickle you and you raise your hands in submission.

"You cooking sounds very tasty, satoru. It's just..."

"Hm?" 

"It's just that you haven't done it in a while." Then you add, "It's been a while since you've been home."

Gojo merely kisses your bare shoulder and plays with the skin on your abdomen.

"I'm sorry," he says, after a while. You nod looking at his hands, looking at how pretty the engagement ring looks on them. "I love you so much, I love our daughter, I love what we have. I don't want to ruin that."

You bring his hands to your mouth, your stomach swelling with tension, your gut roiling as you bring them close enough to kiss his knuckles and then assure a barely audible, "I love you too. Let's talk about it tomorrow, shall we?”

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 7

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual content, mental abuse, toxic relationship, language Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: SHE'S BAACKKK!!! omg i missed you guys so much you don't even know! I AM BACK and i'm locked in and i finally got this chapter out for you, ty for being so so patient with me, i will have more time to write for everyone now!! ily guys and tysm for 1k followers, i have a little surprise to you to celebrate that soon :)) ILYM <33

italics are flashbacks

-

Before London

“You buckled up?”

“Yes,” I murmur, crossing my legs and looking out the window. It’s one of those days where it’s been grey and gloomy since the morning. The dark clouds billow in along the horizon, causing an unbearable humidity to fall over Dallas. The weather felt heavy, everyone hoping for a gentle May storm to bring some relief. I could feel sweat growing in my neck, the humidity causing my hair to turn unruly, impossible to manage, dark curls twisting every which way except the direction they were supposed to.

The heaviness was impossible to escape, even in Paige’s car - though I’m not exactly sure if it’s the weather or the tension between us having my stomach doing flips.

“Jesus…” The blonde mumbles to herself when a song by The Weeknd starts playing, nimble hands quickly skipping it.

Since our interrupted moment on my couch we hadn’t talked about it, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring it up. We left it at that, just a moment of weakness between us both, Paige avoiding my gaze whenever she could. The blonde, however, had been growing uncharacteristically more frustrated ever since. Whether because of what happened between us or the game tomorrow, I wasn’t sure.

“So… When’s your dad coming?” I ask carefully, knowing she has been irritated all day. Matter of fact Arike and Lou had warned me about it earlier.

“Tonight, I’ll pick him up from the airport,” she mumbles and then groans, hitting the steering wheel like remembering something. “I was gonna clean before but I forgot.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah.”

“Paige, I really don’t mind,” I insist, watching the hooper driving with practiced ease in her Nike sweats and a black t-shirt. “I kind of owe it to you since you took care of me…”

Paige’s blue eyes flicker from the road to me, back to the road, face turning red at the memory of us on the couch. Just as she’s about to answer, another song by The Weeknd begins to play.

“This fuckin’ playlist,” Paige groans, quickly skipping every song with any type of sexual implications. It was almost funny, really, the way she was behaving. She’s huffing, fumbling with her phone to change songs before throwing the device to me. “Just put on sumn Iz, please, I’m getting pissed off.”

“I can see that,” I chuckle, picking another list which seemingly is more chill. “Nervous about the game huh?”

“I dunno man,” she mumbles, rubbing her face and leaning back against the seat, jaw clenching. Truthfully, I felt just as frustrated, my mind spinning around how the girl felt on top of me. Everything she did felt so effortless, yet had me probably wetter than I had ever been in my life with such ease. The mere memory had been driving me mad, my own hand trying to relieve the ache between my thighs but with no such luck. Honestly the tension was driving me just as frustrated as Paige is. And God this stupid, overbearing heat, the way it had turned my skin sticky, making it hard to breathe. Paige rubs her own chest, as if feeling the exact same.

Even now, watching the blonde, her veiny hands on the wheel, arms glistening with sweat from the humidity, neck bobbing as she swallows heavily, blonde hair down and straight. all of it had that familiar ache grow between my legs again. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.

I lick my lips and move my eyes to the road, beginning to feel flustered. The temptation of toying with the idea of going to bed with the blonde had been growing stronger and stronger, driving me up the wall. Maybe it was time for me to try on someone else. But I felt afraid, it had been years since I slept with anyone else but Jasper. Maybe this could be a good chance to see how it might make me feel? But then again Paige would need to understand that it has to be just sex. Nothing more. No attachment. 

Memories of her filthy words repeat in my head. I swear no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever told me such dirty things. It was exhilarating, it had me soaked. 

The drive is quiet, Paige letting out frustrated huffs now and then and chewing on her lower lip.

“Will we still do the pregame interview for socials tomorrow?” I ask.

“Course,” she huffs with annoyance.

“Okay no reason to have an attitude with me now,” I answer, growing a little annoyed or perhaps frustrated too.

She pulls up to our building’s parking lot, exhaling loudly. “You right,” she mumbles and turns to me, face softening exponentially. Paige reaches over, taking both my hands into hers. It’s enough to make my stomach flip. “You right Iz, I’m sorry. Ion wanna be like that with you I just… It’s this damn heat and everything.”

Our eyes lock, and I consider leaning over the center console and kissing her. But I wasn’t brave enough. Not yet, at least.

“It’s okay Paige,” I hum. Slightly hesitantly, the blonde brings my hands up to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to both of them, eyes fluttering shut. I feel the familiar blush build on my cheeks as I watch her, jolts running through my body. No, I’m done being scared. I need her now.

“Can I come over to yours please?” I ask as politely as I can, though the look in my eyes lets Paige know exactly what’s on my mind. I swear I’ve never seen her nod so quickly, barely letting my words sink in. She clumsily climbs out of the car, practically running to my side to open the door and helping me out. The blonde’s steps are hurried, long strides making it hard for me to keep up as we climb to her floor, a slight grin on my face as I watch the eagerness in which she was moving with. 

Paige’s hands scramble with the lock, the key shaking a little in her hand as she finally opens the door, allowing me in first. My stomach starts to twist, and there’s a burn spreading around my upper thighs as I take off my heels, suddenly significantly shorter than the blonde girl following on my tail.

I hear the door close and turn around, chest heaving much like Paige’s is as I watch her blue eyes roaming my body, the black pencil skirt and the body hugging maroon short-sleeved top, her gaze landing on my face, mouth already agape and breaths growing heavy. 

For a moment we just breathe, our eyes locked on each other, taking the moment in. The tension, the pent up frustration, the need we have for each other, until the blonde snaps and pushes me into the wall which feels cold against my warm back. Paige’s hands land on my waste as our lips crash into a messy, sloppy, needy kiss. A type of kiss I had never had before. It leaves me breathless, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, long fingers wrapping into her hair and pulling the girl closer. She moves her lips off mine, beginning to trail to my neck, hands on my waist travelling downwards to my ass, groaning as she feels it under her grip. 

“W-wait,” I gasp breathlessly, legs already beginning to shake. 

“Mhm,” Paige hums against my skin, lips never quitting working on my neck. 

“I- fuck,” I whimper. “I just need you to know that this has to be just sex.”

Without even thinking I feel the blonde nod, lips sucking right below my ear. “Okay, whatever you want Iz.”

I pull her away from my neck by her hair, meeting her eyes. “I’m serious. Just sex.”

Paige’s eyelids are heavy, the normally bright blue of her eyes turning dark with lust as she gazes down at me. “Izara, I mean it. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be okay?”

When those words leave the blonde’s mouth I nearly crumble to the ground. I can’t wait for a second longer, the wetness pooling between my legs enough proof of that.

“Take me to bed,” I tell the younger girl, who picks me up with ease as my legs wrap around her torso. She kisses me hungrily, our tongues meeting in a battle for dominance which the blonde soon wins as she places me down on her bed softly, my skirt now hiked up halfway up my thighs.

For a moment Paige stands above me, eyes roaming my body as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbles, then climbs on top of me, her right hand hiking my skirt all the way up, revealing my lacy red panties. When Paige notices, she lets out a groan, practically drooling but working hard to pace herself.

“Take this off,” I murmur, yanking on Paige’s t-shirt.

“Yes ma’am,” she replies, pulling it over her head and onto the floor. I watch the way her muscles in her abdomen clench and I can’t help but drag my fingernails along it as she sits up on top of me, straddling me while I lie flat against the soft blanket.

“Fuck,” she moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, her hands inching underneath my top.

“Would you like it off?” I ask, chest heaving.

“Yes. Please.”

I pull the top off, the blonde’s fingertips leaving tingles as they drag over my ribs. Somehow I don’t feel nervous, all my anxious thoughts left the second I felt Paige on me again.

“Goddamn…” The girl sighs, her hand dragging to my matching lace bra and palming my round breast, making me whimper. I pull her down by the chain on her neck, kissing her feverishly, my underwear growing wetter with every passing moment, mind spinning with need. As I let out a whine, Paige gets the hint, her right hand dragging down my body to my bare thigh and squeezing. 

My back arches off the bed, another whine spilling from my lips but quickly silenced by the blonde’s kiss, her fingers trailing up my inner thigh torturously slowly.

“Paige,” I cry out.

“Tell me what you want?” Paige asks, her voice gravelly in a way I haven’t heard before.

“You to touch me,” I whimper, my brows furrowing with need. “Please.”

“So polite ma,” she grins, beginning to kiss my neck, inching downwards my body to my breasts. “I’mma take good care of you baby, don’ worry.”

My legs spread wider in anticipation as her lips trail downwards along my stomach. I can feel my head spinning, unable to accept that this is real and actually happening. That I would finally find relief to the awful ache inside me.

Faint giggles take me out of the moment, snapping me back to reality. I must’ve imagined - no wait, I can definitely hear giggles. “Paige,” I say.

“Mhm,” she hums, kissing along my inner thighs now.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what,” she mumbles against my skin, nuzzling it, her eyes finally opening when I sit up.

“Listen,” I complain, pushing her off by her forehead to make her pay attention.

“I hear nothin, just lie down and re-”

It’s clear. The sound coming from the front door. Paige’s front door, someone fumbling with the key in the keyhole, turning it and-

“What the fuck?” Paige asks, abruptly getting off me and hurrying to the door of her bedroom, peeking into the corridor in her sports bra and sweats. I get up too, pulling my skirt down, wanting to cry with frustration.

-

There they are. By my doorstep. KK, Ice, Azzi, Jana and Ash, holding balloons and banners and other decorations, giggling amongst each other.

“I- wh- KK? Ice? A- how did y’all get in?” I ask, eyes flickering between the girls and Izara in the bedroom, pulling her skirt down and throwing her top on frantically. 

“Why aren’t you at practice?”

“It ended early,” I say, my voice rising uncharacteristically as I attempt to steady my breathing from what almost just happened. How close I was to getting what I had been craving for weeks. I loved these girls but, God could I kill them right now. “How the hell do y’all got a key to my place??”

“Oh it’s your dad’s,” Azzi giggles. “We were gonna surprise you, he’s downstairs.”

Oh so not only my girls but my dad was gonna arrive at the scene. With a girl in my bedroom. I glance at Iz, who’s fixing her hair in the mirror, but she looks completely fucked out. And I bet I do too. I had no idea how to explain myself out of this one.

“Wh-” I start

“Yeah why aren’t you hugging us and shit? You forget all about us?” KK huffs.

I rub my face, letting out a heavy exhale when Izzie walks out of the bedroom into the eyeline of the group of girls. All their eyes widen, and I can’t ignore the shared looks between them. Quick, Paige, say something.

“Uhh, guys this is Iz- I mean, Zari, she uh, was over to uh…” I scratch the back of my neck, KK already covering her mouth trying not to laugh.

“I just needed to borrow…” Izzie’s eyes scan the room. “Paige’s lamp! Mine broke, so. Couldn’t see to read my book.” Her face is bright red, the usual composure with which she presented herself completely gone. I almost groan at the excuse but realise that would just make the situation seem a million times worse.

“Yes! She was! Uh let me get it for you,” I mumble, about to walk into the bedroom to actually grab a lamp for the girl.

“No no! You say hi to your friends, I can do it myself!”

I wanna bury my face into my hands and go back into the bedroom and lock the door and never come out. All the girls are staring with amused faces, hands holding balloons and flyers and little decorations in preparation for my first game tomorrow, clearly suspicious of us two. Just when I think it can’t get worse, my dad - yes my dad - walks in.

“Why are you girls all- Oh hi, don’t you have practice?” He asks, holding a cake.

I rub the bridge of my nose, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point.

“Got home early,” I sigh, too flustered to even enjoy the fact that my best friends and my dad were here to see me.

“This girl here is borrowing a lamp,” KK mumbles under her breath to my dad, trying to hold in her snickers. What a stupid excuse. I thought Izzie was supposed to be smart. Borrowing a lamp, what kinda excuse was that?

My dad’s eyes land on Izzie, flickering between me and her and the awkwardly large distance between us as if that might help us look less suspicious. Though based on the small grin on my dad’s face, I can tell it’s doing the exact opposite.

“I’m Bob, Paige’s dad,” my dad slides inside through the girls who are eyeing the situation with amused expressions, shaking hands with Iz like I wasn’t just between her legs ready to do something unimaginable.

“Hey, I’m Izara. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

“Izara huh?” He turns to me with a sly grin, something I’d inherited. “You haven’t mentioned an Izara?”

“She prefers Zari,” I correct, trying to avoid his eye. “She does media for the Wings.”

For a moment everyone’s quiet, multiple pairs of eyes staring at me, then Zari, then me again. The silence lingers, bordering on uncomfortable when to everyone’s relief KK speaks.

“Bro we don’t even get a hug or nothing?”

-

She’s there, sitting on my couch, in between Ice and Azzi and laughing that sweet giggle of hers. She looks comfortable, already gaining the approval of my friends with ease. We’re sitting in a circle around the coffee table eating pizza, easy conversation flowing between everyone. But all I could pay attention to was the brunette girl, how easily she fit in, how she had already charmed the hell out of my dad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at my friends’ stupid jokes, or the coy smile on her perfect lips when my dad asks her a question. I needed her, badly, even more than before if possible. 

“Excuse me, I need some water,” Izara catches my eye and excuses herself to the kitchen. Without a word I get up, following on her trail like a puppy. I know everyone notices us leaving, but I don’t care. I wanted to take every second to be with her, to touch her, to have her to myself.

“Hey,” I mumble, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she looks through my cupboards for glasses.

“Hey,” she hums with a smile. I walk to the girl, pressing my front into her back as I reach for a glass in the cupboard above us.

“Oh, thank you,” Izzie says, her voice shaky as my hand lands on her waist. The girls’ voices are loud but distant, echoing around the sparsely furnished living room. So in a moment of weakness I allow my head to tilt down into the crook of Izara’s neck, inhaling the fruity, gentle jasmine scent of her perfume, nuzzling my nose against her goosebump forming skin. I feel her shift, the curve of her ass pressing against me as I allow my lips to press soft kisses onto her golden skin.

The dark haired girl lets out a shaky breath and the sound drives me wild, it taking every drop of my self discipline not to make everyone leave just so I could have my way with her, just to make her feel good. Izzie’s head tilts back, resting against my chest as I bite on her shoulder, my lips gliding and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.

“Paige,” she whispers chuckling, clearly torn between asking me to stop and asking for more.

“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur into her ear, my voice hoarse and trembling with need. 

The girl turns around, her green, emerald eyes wider than usual looking up at me as her hand moves onto my chest. I let my fingertips slide underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin there. “We’ll have time. Later,” she comforts me softly, but it’s not enough.

I throw my head back in frustration and groan, like a child not getting their way.

“Izzie I’m so forreal, I need to have you before the game tomorrow or I’mma be so out of it.”

The girl giggles, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Come over in the morning?”

“I gotta leave at 10. Needa take my time with you.”

Izzie chuckles. “Okay, 8:30?”

“8:00,” I argue, though no amount of time would be enough.

“Do you need two hours?” The girl laughs but I shake my head, trying to stifle the grin on my face.

“Ion need more than five minutes ma, trust,” my words make Izzie’s cheeks turn a shade of red. “But need to take my time. Wanna do it just right.”

Izara might be poised and have a great poker face, but I can tell she needs it as bad as I do. It’s in the way her chest is heaving, the way her pupils are wide and the way her mouth is parted. So I lean in, my lips hovering over her ear.

“Gonna eat that pussy so good ma, gonna have you crying-”

“Yooo…”

I pull away urgently, helped by the fact that Izzie practically pushes me off her, both our heads turning to KK standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“Uhh, I’mma be back,” she says turning around but I grab the shorter girl by the arm and pull her back in.

“Whatchu need?”

Izzie is blushing, trying to hide the smile growing onto her face by holding her hand over her mouth and staring at the wall.

“A tissue, I dropped some food,” KK says.

I gasp. “Bro not on the rug right?”

KK scoffs, grabbing the tissue from me. “Dallas changed you already ‘cause why you care about a rug more than me?”

-

Paige

Yo I’m so sorry I gotta head in early

That’s okay Paige, good luck. I’ll see you before the game, yeah?

I reread the texts on my screen that I never got an answer to. I’m not worried, she’s probably nervous. Or busy. But it’s so… unlike her. Paige was usually the one to message me back the moment I texted her. I was probably overthinking. I hated how I got when I liked someone. Not that I liked Paige. I wanted her badly. But there were no feelings involved and there surely could never be. I wasn’t even close to being ready.

Despite all that I could feel an uncomfortable twist somewhere deep in my stomach watching the way the blonde girl had left me on read. Like I always did when I began to get feelings. I was painfully aware of how scary it was, those feelings stirring within me again. I just had to keep them in control. I know how these things end. I know Paige seems amazing right now - unreal almost. But it was just an illusion. Soon she’d be bored of me, leaving me in tears, crying myself to sleep at 3am. That’s how it always ended up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again.

-

“Jasper, please, could we just sit down and communicate?”

My voice is steady, gentle, like it had to be when he was in one of these moods. I sit on the couch, watching as he paces around me, trying not to blow up. I try to make myself small, breathe quiet, not look him in the eye, anything that might set him off. Once Jasper was set off there was nothing to do. I knew that better than anyone.

“Here we go again,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escapes his mouth.

“No, not like that, please. I swear I just want to talk-”

“No Izara you want to bitch about my drinking again. You’re behaving like a controlling bitch-”

There’s a pang of pain in my chest, the tears I’ve been swallowing making themselves known as my eyes grow wet.

“Please, Jasper, I’ve asked you before not to call me that,” I plead, my voice still soft but growing weaker.

The man rolls his eyes at the sight of me. “Wow, here we go again. Poor Zari, always perfect, always the victim.”

“I never said I was perfect, far from it! I’m just asking you to not call me a bitch,” I debate, my voice rising in response to feeling defensive.

“I didn’t even say you were a bitch! I said you’re behaving like one!” His voice is harsh, cutting through the air and ringing my ear painfully. Familiarly. This was a discussion we’d had about 15 times before. And it always went the same. I don’t even know why I was still trying. 

“God, you’re so manipulative, trying to put words into my mouth,” he murmurs under his breath. He’d said those words so many times part of me had started to think he might be right. Maybe I am manipulative. Maybe I need to just let him be. I’m being dramatic and his drinking wasn’t an issue. Jasper never physically hurt me or hit me. It could be so much worse. Words can only do so much.

I feel the tears spill over finally, dripping down my cheeks. As Jasper notices he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “What, you’re crying now? Like you’re the victim here?”

“Jasper, please, I’m tired,” I cry, my voice shaky as I bury my face into my hands. “Can we just forget this and go to sleep? I’ve got that important meeting tomorrow.”

“Well probably should’ve thought of that before, huh? Before starting all this drama for nothing!”

“I just wished you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight! I was having a hard day, I needed you with me!” I finally snap, yelling back. I never yell, but sometimes with Jasper it felt like it was the only way for him to hear me. Even though I always hated myself afterwards.

“So what? I’m a bad boyfriend? Worst boyfriend in the world?”

“No, that’s not what I said-”

“Fine, if I’m so bad I’ll leave,” Jasper simply says. walking to the entryway, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. Urgently, I get up and run after him, panic spreading all over me. He knew this triggered me. He did this every time he was about to “lose” one of our fights. Because it hurt me the most.

“Wait, wait wait wait,” I cry, my voice weak and trembling as I grab his arm. “Please no, don’t go, please, Jasper, please.”

He ignores me, pulling his arm out of my reach and looking for his keys.

“Jasper,” I sob, legs too shaky to hold me up anymore. I fall to my knees, trying not to throw up all over the man. “Jasper, please. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m too hard on you. You’re so wonderful to me. I love you okay, I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

The man finally turns, looking down at me and shaking his head as my wide eyes blink up at him. With a deep sigh, he puts down his keys and lifts me up from the ground.

“Are you done?” He asks, voice frustrated and tired.

I nod, tears still spilling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go. Please.”

“I won’t Izara, but these fits of yours need to end,” Jasper says as his comforting, familiar arms wrap around me.

“You’re right, Jasper. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

-

My cab finally pulls up to College Park Center, and I quickly slide in through the side door, making my way through the confusing corridors with practiced ease now. I wanted to find the blonde girl, just to make sure she was okay. Just to see her before the game. I check the gym, the weight room, the dining hall but see no sign of her. Finally, as a last resort, I knock on the door of the dressing room, shifting on my feet and smoothing over my black mini skirt and the red sweater hanging off my right shoulder nervously. At last the door opens, Lou peeking her head out with a smile.

“Oh hey.”

“Hey Lou, happy game day!” I greet her, trying to not make it obvious I was looking for someone. Like I was just casually there to wish the girls good luck.

“Thanks Zari, big day,” the girl smiles, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, is um, is-”

“Paige is here, you need her?” I don’t miss the grin on the brunette’s face, the knowing look she has in her eyes. Thought I had been hiding it better with Paige, apparently not.

“Yes, actually I do,” I chuckle awkwardly, clasping my hands in front of me, acrylics scratching against my skin. My heart races as I wait, my stomach turning at the idea of seeing her. Seeing Paige.

Soon the blonde girl arrives at the door, but the familiar wide smile isn't there. Her eyes look red, tired, the skin darker than usual underneath, mouth in a straight line. 

“Paige, are you okay?” I ask, taken back by her appearance.

She looks at me for a while, blue eyes landing on mine, big hand rubbing her jaw. “I’m alright.”

I can tell that she’s not. 

“Paige,” I repeat, looking at her challengingly. The blond sighs and shrugs and it’s then I notice the shaking of her hands. Uncontrollable, clearly visible. “Whoa, what’s going on darling?”

She looks back into the changing room before stepping out, shaky hand rubbing her eyes. I don’t miss the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her blue eyes grow glossy.

“Whoa, hold on love,” I coo, grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her into a new corridor, opening the door to the often empty media team office to find it desolate of people once more. “Come on.”

I close the door behind us and watch closely as the blonde plots herself down on the couch, chest heaving fast. 

“Paige, talk to me,” I comfort her, following behind and sitting next to her. As the blonde lifts her blue eyes off the floor, I see she’s tearing up avoiding my gaze.

“I’m so fucking scared Iz,” she admits, lower lip quivering. My heart fills with affection, and instinctively I wrap my arms around her broad, bare shoulders in her sports bra. 

“Of what?”

“Of screwing up, everyone got crazy expectations. Everyone gonna be watching,” Paige sighs, sniffling weakly. I had never seen her like this, in my head she wasn’t afraid of anything. Guess I was wrong.

“Paige,” I begin, pulling back and grabbing hold of her warm hands. “It’s a big moment, it’s okay to be nervous, to be scared even. But you’re not gonna fail. The only expectations that matter are the ones you put on yourself.”

“I don’t know, I love my girls y’know but fuck I don’t need em here today,” she sighs, wiping a tear from her left cheek. I let my thumb help her a little, brushing against her soft skin. 

“They wanted to surprise you, they love you very much, you know?”

“I know,” Paige murmurs, her thumbs rubbing the skin of my palms. “But I just needed to focus on myself today. I dunno, just feel really fucking overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I stop her, chasing her gaze. The blonde’s blue eyes meet mine, finally softening. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to pretend it’s just you and your team at practice. No audience today, no one you know watching. Just you. And whether you get none of your shots in or all of them, it’s okay. And you get to try again. You’re just dipping your toes in okay? This isn't the defining moment of your career. It’s just one of many.”

Paige listens and takes every word in, processing as her eyes remain locked in mine. Finally her brows soften and she lets out a final, relieved breath. 

“My dad really liked you, talked about you all night after you left.”

“Really?” I grin, making the blonde nod with a smile. 

“My friends too, they wanna get to know you better,” Paige adds. I feel a slight panic in my chest for a moment, the fear of what Paige might’ve said to her friends about us. After all, we had agreed to be just friends despite everything. I hope she didn’t have the wrong idea that I might change my mind.

“Wish I had time to come see you this morning.”

I feel my cheeks heat up immediately. “Yeah?”

She nods, a small grin growing on her face. “Yeah, wouldn’t be feeling so tense.”

I chuckle as her hands let go of mine, landing on the back of my head and pulling me into a sweet, caring kiss that takes me by surprise. But I can’t bear to pull away, nor do I want to. So for a moment we kiss, our lips moving together sending jolts all over my body as the blonde’s hand lowers to my waist and pulls me closer to her. Without a thought my body obeys, skirt hiking up as she pulls me on top of her to straddle her.

Both of our breathing grows heavier as the kiss turns more urgent, Paige exhaling loud through her nose as her hand finds the soft skin of my bare upper thigh, grabbing it needily making me wince. I could feel my arousal pooling between my legs once more, the blonde’s hand sliding upwards until her thumb meets the sheer fabric of my panties, pressing against my clit. We both let out a quiet, desperate whimper, me from the contact, her from how wet I already was. 

This wasn’t sensible, anyone could walk in. Paige’s first ever game in the league would start in only a few hours and she had just been crying from feeling so overwhelmed. But both of us had forgotten, too consumed by the lust that had been eating us alive. I needed her. She needed me.

Paige pulls away from the kiss, long eyelashes blinking at me and pink lips slightly parted. She looked beautiful, like she was already completely out of it. 

“Need to feel you ma, please let me,” she whines, looking for any sign of approval on my face. “Need to feel this pussy around my fingers.”

No one had ever spoken in such a filthy way to me before. And it drove me crazy. The sheer dirtiness of the things Paige said, the way her voice turned hoarse and whiny, the way she really, truly behaved like she would die unless she got to fuck me. I had never experienced it before. Everything about it intoxicated me, my soaked panties prove of how much so.

“Paige, are you sure this is smart?” I ask, my voice weak and shaky.

“Ion care about smart, need to fuck you before my big game,” the blonde murmurs, beginning to kiss my neck, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on my clit against the fabric. “Please mama, need to make you cum, that’s all I want.”

I let out another whimper, her words winning me over.

“C’mon ma, can feel how wet you are for me. Lemme help baby, lemme take care of you.”

Finally I snap, desperately nodding. Without missing a beat, Paige’s fingers hook around the edge of my panties, pulling them to the side as I stay straddling her, feeling the cool air on my dripping cunt.

“This ain’t right. I gotta see that shit,” Paige murmurs and before I understand what she means, she’s pushing me back, my spine hitting the couch as she remains still, my thighs spread wide for her as she sits in between.

Paige’s blue eyes are nearly blown out black with lust as her gaze travels slowly from my flushed face, to my heaving chest, down my stomach, all the way to the panties slid to the side, finally landing on my core. I swear I have never seen the girl so dazed, like everything around her disappeared, her lips parting further, tongue darting out to lick them.

“Fuck,” she whispers, fingers spreading my lips apart to see my wetness glistening in the lighting of the office. To see my folds and the way I was already throbbing for her. I had never been looked at like that before, yet didn’t feel shy or unsure. Because I could tell Paige was in absolute awe.

“So fucking pretty, huh?” The blonde asks, finger carefully brushing up and down against my folds and clit, making my whole body shiver. She was barely touching me yet I couldn’t fight the whine spilling from my lips. This was so unlike me, spread out in overhead lighting in a room anyone could walk into at any moment with a girl I hadn’t even been out on a date with. But it was the last thing I cared about. I needed Paige Bueckers to fuck me now.

“Paige, fuck me,” I demand, my voice breathy and brows furrowed as I watch her.

A sly grin forms on her lips as she gathers wetness through my folds with ease, beginning to circle my clit lazily. The sound is obscene, caused by how slick I had grown for her in the past few minutes. I moan softly, covering my own mouth and letting my eyes fall closed.

“What do you need? Tell me baby,” Paige coos, but she knows. She can see the way my pussy is clenching around nothing, crying for her, begging to be filled. 

“Baby,” I whimper, bucking my hips but the blonde’s free hand brings me down by my thigh.

“Use your words ma.”

“Inside,” I whisper, cheeks growing redder at having to tell the girl with words what I needed from her.

“Yeah? You need my fingers inside your pussy?”

I nod, the words making my arousal grow even more.

“Please,” I add, hoping to hurry the blonde along.

Suddenly, Paige’s fingers slide downwards towards my entrance, circling before two of them begin to break into me, painfully slowly. A loud gasp threatens to spill from my lips but the blonde covers my mouth quickly, her fingers sliding into me all the way. 

It’s impossible to describe how good it feels, to feel her touch me like this. The stretch of her fingers making my body tense and relax simultaneously. I was in heaven, surely sex never felt like this before. Only with her.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” Paige hisses, beginning to curl her fingers against me. The sound of squelching quickly takes over, only joined with both our moans. My back arches desperately, and I feel myself writhing for more, for the blonde to move faster.

It’s in the moment I’m about to start begging for more, the familiar sound of a keycard being slid against the reader takes over. Someone’s about to open the door. Both of us panic, Paige pulling her fingers away and quickly getting up from the couch as I struggle to get off my back, pulling my skirt down eagerly right as Trey walks in.

“Oh hey!” He smiles widely, oblivious to the heavy breathing me and Paige are both trying to get under control. “Oh Paige! Whatchu doing here?”

“Uh,” she murmurs, fingers still glistening with me before she wipes them on her thigh. “We uh,”

“We were planning that pregame interview! Should we film it soon?” I quickly interrupt, noticing Paige’s flustered expression. The shake in my legs is obvious, so I lean against the wall next to me.

“Yeah yeah, the interview,” the blonde murmurs which makes Trey’s brown eyes light up.

“Well great! Why don’t you go change and we film after.”

Paige glances at me as I do her, both of us trying to ignore the tension in the room that the man seemed to not recognise.

“Uhh yeah, lemme go do that,” the taller girl mumbles and leaves, my heart pounding faster than ever from earlier. As she closes the door, Trey turns to me.

“By the way Zari, we shouldn’t let anyone back here that isn’t part of the team, okay? Linda would freak.”

“Oh,” I say, brushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Trey looks at me for a while, leaning back against the desk behind him.

“You know, it’s okay to be friends with players but I think it’s better to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t wanna be getting too close, you know what I mean?”

I can tell he’s digging for something, trying to get me to fess up. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Agreed, shall we prepare the interview?”

-

“Okay, Paige, stand here.”

Trey is maneuvering the blonde around, trying to find the best lighting as I check my notes over and over, my mind still swirling with all the interrupted moments that are growing tiresome. Paige is fiddling with her hands, staring at anything but me feeling just as frustrated by the interruption.

“Ahh, got it. Zari, would you.”

“Yes,” I murmur and step next to the blonde, a slight awkward distance between us. Every cell in me was itching to get closer, to press into her. I was dying for her. But it wasn’t the time. I had to focus on work. It was just hard to look away from her. That’s it.

“Closer Zari,” Trey chuckles, reaching for my shoulder and pushing me closer to Paige. We exchange an awkward, slightly giddy smile and I can tell the girl is beginning to blush, our shoulders pressing together. The blonde gazes upwards towards the low ceilings of the corridor, trying to kill the smile growing on her face.

“Okay, we good?” Trey asks, and I let out a soft giggle. Paige looks at me and giggles too, confusing the man behind the camera. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, we’re good,” I giggle, looking to the floor. The blonde nods in agreement, licking her lips to stifle the grin.

“Whenever you’re ready ladies,” Trey says, pressing record.

I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to the blue ones beside me. The ones I could get lost in forever. But now wasn’t the time. Not the time Izara. Work.

“I am here with our dear rookie, Paige,” I smile, licking my lower lip and looking away from the blonde, her intense gaze becoming too much. “First game today, how are we feeling?”

Paige kisses her teeth and sighs. “Oh man,” she starts, blue eyes boring into the side of my face. “It feels surreal, I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and now it’s finally here. Feelin’ really blessed and fortunate for sure. Playing my first against the Lynx just feels right, you know.”

I watch as her lips move, the way the edges of them curve when she speaks, barely registering the words coming out from how badly I needed her. 

“Favourite thing about Dallas so far?” I ask, crossing my arms and smiling up at the blonde. Her blue eyes are sparkling, a slight glimmer in them as she watches me with a smirk. As if the camera wasn’t filming every moment.

“Oh definitely the ribs,” Paige grins, suddenly interrupted by Arike standing at the other end of the corridor.

“Yooo, bro what?!” 

Me and Paige both begin to laugh, leaning into each other as we do. My hand instinctively graces her forearm as Trey pangs the camera to Arike.

“Alright, alright. And Arike,” Paige chuckles, making me scoff.

“Oy!” I shout, slapping her arm playfully.

“And you!” She grins, raising her hands in defeat. I can’t help the blush covering my face or the stupid smile stretching across.

“As I should be,” I joke, taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself of the planned questions and of Trey’s watchful eyes. It felt impossible under Paige’s gaze so intensely roaming my face, eye fucking me.

“You’ve got some friends and family in the audience tonight, who are you most excited to see you play tonight?”

The blonde looks at me for a meaningful moment, and I don’t miss what she wants to say. What she’s trying to express with her eyes. What she can’t admit in front of Trey.

“Uhh,” she blinks stupidly, finally breaking eye contact. “Probably my dad, yeah. But I’m excited to play for all the Wings fans too, needa impress them.”

“I’m sure you will,” I smile, my tone clearly flirty yet I don’t even recognise the fact. “Happy game day!!”

“Happy game day,” Paige echoes my words, wrapping an arm around my shoulder just as Trey puts the camera down. Yet the man keeps staring over at the two of us, studying every move, every exchanged look.

“Paige! Go change and let’s start warming up, c’mon!” Chris nods the blonde towards the lockers. I see her eyes turn to me once more, softening. 

“Wish me luck ma,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I let her.

“Good luck Paige,” I mumble into her eyes, letting go and watching as she walks into the dressing room, leaving me alone with Trey. I could feel nerves bubbling in my stomach, heart beginning to pound in anticipation for the game. The man watches me for a while, deep in thought.

“Zari…. I gotta ask you something,” the man starts, his voice echoing in the corridor. He walks us to our office letting me know this wasn’t going to be a light subject, which made me nervous.

I sit on the desk, my legs hanging off as I cross them and watch the brunette pace around the room for a moment before turning to me. 

“Is there something going on with you and Paige?”

Fuck.

I think about lying, looking through my brain for any cover up story. There isn’t one. I was a horrible liar anyway. So I just sigh, looking down before nodding.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean for there to be but I like her. She likes me,” I admit, carefully looking at the man. “Look, it’s nothing though. Nothing serious, just fun.”

“For fucks sake Zari,” Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Excuse me?” I ask offended. Sure, it wasn’t great, but he was hugely overreacting.

Trey walks over to me and grabs a hold of my hands, stopping much too close to my liking.

“Zari, Linda is very… strict. You know this. But she does not allow anything like this, she must’ve told you? She gave me this big speech too when I came in.”

I blink at him, my lips parting a little. It wasn’t allowed. That’s it. That simple.

“Wh- no she never said,” I murmur. Trey nods, letting out a sigh.

“Zari you have to end it. You could get fired.”

My heart drops, mind starts spinning. I could get fired. Have to go back to the UK. Just like that. Fired. Just because I didn’t have the self-discipline to resist Paige.

“Trey, you’re not going to-”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Linda won’t know. But only if you end it now, okay? If she finds out I know I could get in trouble too.”

I look at the walls, covered in pictures of the entire Dallas Wings overtime, faces changing and some persisting year after year. I finally land on this year’s picture, on the blonde standing on the right side, smiling that familiar, wide, charming smile. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, how badly I needed her on me. None of it would matter if I got fired, if I got my visa revoked. I couldn’t do this dance we’d been playing the past month anymore. I had to end it.

-

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[rafesfavgirl]

with a broken heart — r. cameron

part 1. something a little more lighthearted to make up for breaking y'alls hearts :)

series: every few lifetimes

❝ i was grinning like i'm winning  i was hitting my marks 'cause i can do it with a broken heart ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after getting your heart broken, you pack your bags and leave the obx, only to come face to face with rafe again, eight years later.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: rafe and reader are aged up (26/27), old flames, FLUFF

"now remember, this client's a big prospect," your boss says as you follow him out of the office car and into the building you were scoping out today. "i guarantee if you can close this deal, you'll be well on your way to becoming the next junior partner."

"hank, are you serious?" you stop in your tracks and he looks at you. 

when you first left the outer banks for new york, you went to nyu without a clue on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. somewhere along the way, you graduated magna cum laude and pursued law school at columbia. your first year, hank took you on as an intern, and by the time you graduated, you had a job lined up for you at one of the biggest real estate agencies in the world. and though you knew how well you did your job, becoming junior partner as a second-year associate was way beyond where you thought you'd be—it was nothing short of a dream come true.

"don't think what you've done for this company has been lost on me, y/n," he tells you. "you're an asset. i knew it since that first summer i took you on as an intern."

a smile comes across your lips. "well, i can't disappoint," you say. "let's close this fucking deal."

"that's what i like to hear, come on," he continues leading you through the building, until the two of you reached a tall guy with a buzzcut wearing a navy blue suit scoping out the place.

"mr. cameron," you don't miss the familiar name when you and your boss stop behind him, your breath hitching when the guy turns around to greet you both. "this is-"

"y/n," your name rolls off rafe's tongue the same way it always did, your heart beating so hard you feared it'd jump out of your chest.

hank's eyes shift between the two of you, as he shakes rafe's hand. "you two know each other?"

"yeah," rafe nods, his eyes set on you—he couldn't believe that you were actually standing in front of him. a part of him thought that when you left the obx he'd never see you again. "we uh— we went to high school together."

"well that's wonderful," hank smiles. "no need for the awkward introduction then."

except— it was awkward. you didn't just go to high school together. you fell in love in high school. and two months before you chose to go to nyu, rafe broke your heart.

"y/n here will be the one walking you through the contract, and hopefully setting you up with one of our best architects," hank explains to him, while you continue trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

what were the odds that he was the client you needed to win over in order to make junior partner? 

—

"so, does that all sound good to you?" you finish going over the contract for the building and look at rafe.

the two of you hovered over a table in the empty space that you'd spread out all the documents on.

"yeah, y/n, it all sounds great." the smile he throws your way makes your stomach turn in the worst way—making you realize that the piece of your heart that never stopped beating for him still existed. "where do i sign?"

"uh— right here," you pick up your pen to draw x's on all the lines he had to sign on, before holding it out to him.

he takes it from you, and you watch as he leans over to sign on each and everyone of them, your eyes trailing over how well his suit fit him.

he must hit the gym at least four times a week, you thought. he's grown quite a bit since you last saw him.

"there you go," rafe hands the pen back out to you, and you take it from him with a smile.

"thank you," you say. "you won't regret it."

"oh, i know," he nods, eyes scanning over your face. "i'd never regret anything that involves you."

you feel the heat rise on your cheeks, but you keep it professional, gathering the files on the table back into your folder. "well then, i'll leave you with the contacts of our architects and if you have any further questions, you can reach out to hank or any of the other executives."

"yeah, okay," he replies, hiding his disappointment in the fact that you didn't tell him to contact you with any questions he may have.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, mr. cameron," you hold out a hand to him for a handshake and he stares at it for a second, before reluctantly placing his hand in yours.

"it sure was," he smiles. "but you know you can just call me rafe, don't you?"

"this is how i address all my clients," you tell him. "it's just the professional thing to do."

"yeah, yeah, i get it," he nods. "guess i'm just not used to it coming from you."

you crack a smile at his somewhat nervous stance—you weren't used to seeing him this way. "it was nice to see you again, rafe. good luck with everything."

"yeah," he grins. "you too."

you turn to walk away, while rafe stays back, scratching the back of his head in contemplation before calling out to you. "hey y/n?"

"yeah?" you ask, stopping to look at him again.

"you got any plans tonight?"

"rafe, i-"

"oh, come on," he cuts you off, slowly closing the distance between you two. "there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"

wrong—there were many reasons. one being that you spent years piecing yourself back together after he decided to give up on you. 

"let's catch up," he persists, his blue eyes locking with yours. "get a drink with me tonight."

despite your head screaming no, you agree. "one drink," you say, causing a smile to spread across his face. "ten o'clock. meet me at the bar on fifth."

—

the second you walk into the bar, rafe rises from his stool at the counter and waves you over. he had gotten there 30 minutes early to make sure you weren't left waiting for him—you'd done enough of that.

"hey," he seems nervous when you reach him, wiping his hands on his slacks before reluctantly wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

you resist the urge to giggle—it was kinda entertaining to see this six-foot-two tall man get nervous around you—and briefly return his hug.

"have you been here long?" you ask, taking off your jacket and taking a seat in the empty stool beside him.

"nah, just about five minutes or so," he lies, shrugging and giving you a lopsided smile, as the bartender walks up to greet you both.

"anything i can get you?" she asks, eyes lingering on rafe for a little longer than you.

"just a glass of whiskey for me," rafe tells her. "neat."

"and i'll just have a glass of pinot noir," you say, when the girl turns to look at you. "thank you."

"and you can just put it on this," rafe reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and you cut in. "rafe, you don't have to-"

"nonsense," he shakes his head at you and slides his black amex across to the bartender. "i invited you out. it's on me."

the bartender picks up his card, and gives him a smile. "rafe cameron. i'll remember that."

subtly, rafe rolls his eyes and you hold back a snicker. "please don't."

the bartender huffs as her eyes shifts between the two of you, but walks away without another word to get your drinks and charge rafe's card.

you kink a brow at him. "you get bartenders flirting with you a lot?"

"i guess it happens every now and then," he shrugs.

"it's definitely the buzz," you tell him, as a different bartender brings over your drinks and hands rafe back his card.

"thank you," he briefly acknowledges him, before turning his attention back on you, an amused smile on his face. "you think?"

"yeah," you nod, bringing your wine glass up to take a sip. "it makes you look older— more mature. it suits you."

he cracks a smile, a small chuckle slipping out from between his lips. "and being a lawyer suits you."

"you really think so?"

"yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "you looked so cute all dressed up in your little suit," those words make the heat rise on your cheeks, and you hide it with your wine glass. "i've never seen you more in your element. what made you choose law?"

"well…" you trail off, wondering whether or not you should tell him the truth. oh, fuck it. "after we broke up, i found out got into nyu. i was so… mad and hurt over you ending it that i packed my bags and i left, without looking back. during the summers, i stayed here and worked internships with the school just so i'd have an excuse not to go home."

he listened intently, a look of indifference falling across his features. a part of him was hurt at hearing that he'd broken your heart so badly you felt the need to leave, but the other part was proud. you really did that. figured your shit out and made a life for yourself—just like he always knew you would.

"after my second year, i worked an internship with a property management company in brooklyn. we scoped out places all around the city, and i don't know… i kinda just fell in love with it. seeing how happy people got when we'd found them the right apartment or the right space for them to start their business just made me feel really good. so i declared real estate as my major junior year and decided on law school," you continued.

"doll, that's amazing," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "which law school did you go to?"

"columbia," you reply, his eyes only widening in amazement. no words could describe the amount of pride in his chest right now. "but enough about me. what about you?"

"oh— uh…" he started and set his whiskey down on the bar. "after you left, i went to rehab. went in and out of that place for about two or three years… i mean, you knew how bad it was— wasn't easy."

you frown upon hearing his struggles with rehab and relapsing, but nod along as he continues.

"been clean for about four years now though," he shrugs, as if it wasn't some big accomplishment.

"rafe, that's amazing," you tell him, setting your glass down on the bar. "good for you."

"i had to," he nodded. "not only for me, but for dad, too. he was starting to talk business and expanding the company, and i just… i couldn't let him down. especially not after i let you down."

you glance down, no longer being able to meet his eyes. you knew that your past together had to come up at one point, you just weren't ready for it. mainly because even after all this time, there was still that little piece of your heart that never stopped belonging to him. it would always be his. "rafe…"

"i hope i'm not being too forward when i ask you this but…" his hand reaches out to touch yours, and you look up at him. "are you seeing anyone?"

"no, i'm not," you shake your head. "after we broke up, i didn't really date much. and even when i did, nothing ever really stuck."

that was enough to have a smile crack across his his, eyes brighter than you'd seen them in a really long time. "guess that makes two of us."

"guess so," you shrug, thoughts running through your mind a hundred times a minute as you try to find a way to change the subject. you weren't ready for where this conversation was about to go. at least, not yet. "but, uh— tell me about cameron development, how's that going?"

he chuckles at your eagerness to change the subject, as you sipped on your wine, but goes with it. he'd break you down again. eventually.

—

after finishing your drinks at the bar, rafe offered to walk you home since your apartment was only about a block or two away, assuring you that he'd just get a cab back to his hotel afterward.

and while a part of you screamed at you to say no, that little piece of your heart that still beat for him won over, and you agreed.

"well, this is me," you say, stopping in front of your apartment complex and looking at him. "it was really nice to see you, rafe."

"so that's it?" he asks, catching you off guard. "this just ends here?"

he takes a step towards you, making your heart pitter-patter, as his eyes scanned your face.

"rafe-"

"don't you ever wonder…" he cuts you off, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before his eyes shifted to meet yours. "what we could've been? what we could be?"

"i-"

"i know i fucked shit up with you, a'ight?" he said, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

the gesture threatens to make your eyes flutter close at the feeling of his familiar touch, but you keep your composure.

"i was young and i was stupid, and i thought you deserved better," he continued. "but y/n, there isn't a day that has gone by in the last eight years that you haven't crossed my mind. i think about you all the time, just hoping for the day you'd finally come back to the banks."

your breath hitches at his confession, that tiny piece of your heart that held onto him, growing three sizes.

"i know i don't deserve a second chance, i know that," he told you. "but i'm not the guy i was back in high school. i'm clean now, and i've turned my life around. i can be that guy for you now. the one you needed me to be all those years ago."

"okay," you whisper.

"what?" he musn't have heard you right.

"i'd be lying to myself if i said i haven't thought about you either, rafe," you say.

a small chuckle falls from his lips, which spread into a smile. "seriously?"

you nod. "come pick me up at seven tomorrow. let's give it a chance."

part 3 coming soon!!

i'm rooting for them tbh

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[gayforolderwomen]

The hands that cradle me are drenched in blood

Inspired by this post

!!this is still an 18+ blog minors DNI!!

Pairing: Dark!Agatha x Dark!Rio x fem!reader

Summary: Agatha and Rio are obsessed with you, in their minds you're already theirs they just have to break you a little bit to make you realize that too

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of stalking, kidnapping, torture, brutal death of r's gf, gore, blood, breaking of bones, grief, non-con kissing, manipulation, choking, stabbing, r tasting blood, kind of Stockholm syndrome?, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N:Uhh so this turned out a lot longer than expected but my brain really liked the idea apparently lmao I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Also yes I made a shitty edit for the image cause it needed to fit the vibes perfectly wjejsj

"I'm getting sick of seeing that bitch all over our girl" Rio snarls, her eyes glaring hellfire into the back of your girlfriend's head- Rio being death herself cannot kill mortals as to keep the balance but she's just about ready to make an exception- her body coiled like a predator about to strike.

"Patience dear we have to wait for the right time" Agatha replies keeping a cool calm exterior as they sit on their porch watching you and your girlfriend garden. Rio however sees the small twitch in Agatha's right eye, a sign her lover is just as ready to rip apart the one obstacle between them and you, a knowing smirk gracing her lips for a moment.

You only recently moved into the house next door but all it took was one small, fleeting interaction to have them hooked. You were perfect, so young, so innocent, so pretty and so very pliable. They've bided their time- waiting- watching. Everything has to be perfect and soon it will be, all they need is to get rid of your girlfriend.

She's a sweet enough girl- you're clearly madly in love with her, but to Agatha and Rio she is an infestation needing to be exterminated- and they're both getting impatient. It's difficult for them, seeing her all over you, seeing you drink it up, being so head over heels, it's wrong. You're theirs. It doesn't matter if all the interaction you've had with them is polite conversations in passing- they know everything about you. Your routine, your favorite meals, what shows you watch on repeat, your adorable habits- they know more about you than anyone could.

It's been about half a year of careful planning when all the pieces finally fall into place, you've just lost your job under mysterious circumstances, your girlfriend is overworked at hers due to ten people quitting out of the blue, she's barely around, she's stressed and you're starting to hit a low point. You're vulnerable.

It starts with a gentle knock at your door, you open it, bags under your eyes and stress wracking your body. Agatha and Rio both put on their warmest smiles, only slightly wavering when your girlfriend appears beside you.

"Heya neighbours! We were just wondering how you're settling into the neighbourhood" Agatha says in a cheery tone, acting as if it's a bright and early morning and not the dark hours of the night.

You look puzzled at the question but before you can even mumble a polite response the sight of your girlfriend's arm resting around your waist makes Rio snap and within an instant your girlfriend is on the floor and Rio is inside.

Agatha tuts but quickly follows suit, the door closing behind her with a thud, purple magic starting to swirl between her fingers. You gasp, your eyes wide, your body trembling and your mind frozen in shock.

"Remember to hold her back dear" Agatha says with a laugh of amusement at the terrified and confused look on your face, finding it more adorable than she would have originally thought.

Rio is behind you in an heartbeat, one arm tightly around your waist holding your back to her front in a vice grip- her other hand gently stroking your head in an almost soothing manner, yet it does nothing to stop the trembling in your body, the fear and uncertainty of the situation making you shake like a leaf, your mind racing with questions, your neighbours seemed nice enough from the little times you interacted with them- you at least never would have thought they'd be barging into your home with seemingly sinister intent.

"W-what's going on-" you stutter, your voice almost too small to be heard. Rio just shushes you like you would a child, her hand still gently stroking your head.

"Hush baby, Agatha's just gonna show you how dedicated we are to you. To having you all to ourselves, like it should be" Rio gently whispers in your ear as if the words are supposed to soothe your fear and not spike it.

Purple magic swarms around your girlfriend's body, suspending her a few feet off the ground, she opens her mouth to scream but no sound escapes her. A dark chuckle reverberates through the room, Agatha taking great amusement in your girlfriend's fear.

"Ah, ah, ah" she mockingly sings "don't want you waking up the neighbourhood do we?" Agatha coos with fake sympathy.

With a strange movement of Agatha's hands your girlfriend's body starts to contort, the sickening crunch of bones echos through the room, your girlfriend's mouth open wide in a silent scream, tears drenching her cheeks. You writhe against Rio's grip, a sob leaving your mouth as you frantically try to reach your girlfriend.

Rio shushes you, her vice grip around your waist unwavering, her other hand now gently holding your head back against her shoulder, making you fully lean back into her cold embrace.

"Shh it's okay little dove, I've got you" Rio hums into your ear, her tone gentle and loving. Her lips pressing against your neck in a reassuring kiss, her lips much warmer than her hands but the sensation makes you shiver in disgust- your girlfriend is the only one who kisses you like that and she's being brutalized in front of your very eyes.

Bones crack and grind, some protruding out of her skin with sickening pop, her body bending and twisting in ways too grotesque to describe, hovering in the air helpless and at the complete mercy of Agatha Harkness.

"No! No stop! Please! You're hurting her!" You yell, your voice breaking into a sob as you see the dread in your girlfriend's tear stained eyes, the unmistakable look of primal fear, the look of someone who knows the end is here.

"It's alright darling it'll be over soon" Agatha says in a velvet smooth voice, walking to you for a moment and gently wiping away the tears you hadn't even noticed were adorning your cheeks.

"Please- please stop she didn't do anything wrong-" you beg between broken sobs, your body already feeling heavy and weak as Rio easily keeps you against her chest.

Agatha gives you a gentle and genuine smile "but she did, she's keeping you from us darling and we can't have that" she explains, her tone as if you were a child unable to grasp the necessity of the situation. Rio presses another comforting kiss to your neck, her other arm now pressed across your chest, effectively pinning you to her body, immobilizing you will ease.

You try to struggle against her, try to fight her ensnaring grip but the fight quickly leaves your body as Agatha turns back to your girlfriend- her body still contorting and writhing in pain. Agatha flicks her wrist and a gut wrenching snap fills the room. The purple magic vanishes, your girlfriend's now lifeless body falling to the floor, bones jutting out of her in various places, blood coating her once perfect skin and her head now forever snapped to the side.

The air becomes stagnant as you stare at her lifeless broken body, your hands tremble at your side and a heavy numbness overtakes your body. You're silent, no more sobs escape your lips just the sound of your shaky, shallow breathing. All you can do is stare at her. You had planned to spend the rest of your life with your girlfriend and now she lay dead in a gruesome display in front of you, in the home you bought together.

Agatha then makes her way back over to Rio and you, gently cupping your face in her hands and tilting it up so you're looking at her. She has a look of genuine empathy and care on her face, a soft sad smile on her lips.

"I'm sorry my darling it had to be done, but you have us now and we're not going anywhere" she says in a soft comforting voice, Rios arms loosening a fraction around your body but still holding you close, her grip feeling less like a cage and more like an anchor.

You don't say anything, a vacant look across your face as Agatha keeps your gaze on her, Agatha's hands feeling warm and soft. Rio's eyes drift between you and the body of your girlfriend, a small smile of satisfaction on her lips. She's eager to collect her soul, to see the obstacle finally leave this plane.

"I've got her my love, deal with that" Agatha says as she replaces Rios arm around your waist with hers and gently guides you to lean forward into her neck. Rio obliges checking that Agatha is holding you up before fully letting go, she's reluctant to leave your side but she has a job to do and her eagerness beats her reluctance most times.

Your arms hang limp at your side, your body feeling so heavy and yet so empty at the same time, your entire world has just been destroyed, you should be screaming, yelling, running, anything. But you're not, you let yourself sink into Agatha's embrace, your head guided to rest on Agatha's shoulder, her arm gently but firmly around you, her other gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion- it's the same thing your girlfriend would do to comfort you after a tough week...

Rio soon is back behind you, pulling the both of you to her, sandwiching you between the two older women. You don't react, you should but you don't, too drained to fight and almost grateful for their comfort...almost.

"We should get you home little dove" Rio softly says, her lips returning to your neck to pepper soft kisses across it. Agatha now gently stroking your side, their touch feels caring, loving. Safe. You're almost willed into that false sense of security but Rio's words snap you out of it. The term of endearment. That word....Home.

The numbness vanishes and your body is instead filled with panic, fear and anger. You start to thrash in an attempt to break free from the two women's grips, but as if they expected this to happen, that same purple magic that held your girlfriend in mid air as she was killed, now envelopes your body.

Agatha and Rio both step back, Agatha tutting in disappointment as if you were just a small child misbehaving, Rio however lets out a low growl, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

"Oh my dear I was hoping we didn't have to resort to this but, you leave us no choice" Agatha chastises, her voice more cold, tone disappointed but not lacking empathy like it did when she talked to your girlfriend, almost like she genuinely didn't want to use her magic on you.

A small mutter of what sounds like Latin and a movement of Agatha's arms twists the scenery around you, walls and colours distorting around you before it settles. You blink a few times, your body is no longer restrained, you're not in your house, at least you don't think you are. The walls around you are stone and sturdy looking, there's no windows, no natural light. Only a soft glow coming from somewhere but at least it's enough to vaguely see your surroundings.

You squint trying to adjust your eyes and manage to make out what looks like a staircase, you scramble to reach it, the cold stone floor sending a small jolt through your skin as your hands frantically feel for each step. The soft glow growing as you ascend the staircase of what you're guessing is a basement.

You reach out for the door handle but startle as it suddenly flies open, revealing Rio standing in the door frame, a dark glint in her eye. You freeze, you don't know where you are, Agatha is nowhere to be seen and you're reminded of the threatening growl that Rio produced when you tired to escape their grip seconds ago. Every fibre of your being is telling you to run.

"Don't" Rio lowly warns as she sees your eyes darting around, clearly trying to think of what to do in your panicked state. "Just relax baby. You're home now, you're safe" she says, her voice taking on a more gentle tone, yet there's still a lingering threat in her dark eyes.

Your body starts to tremble, fear rising like a growing wave in your body, you know less about these women than you thought, they're dangerous, Rio isn't even the one that killed your girlfriend but she holds a threatening and powerful presence- she was able to easily restrain you before, you don't want to think about what else she's capable of.

"I-I....I don't understand...why did she...m-my girlfriend...Agatha killed.." your voice cracks, it's still so fresh, you're confused, scared and feel utterly helpless. You don't know what to do, you want to run, scream, anything that would get you out of this situation, away from the women responsible for your girlfriends horrific demise.

"Oh sweet girl we've already told you" Agatha's voice suddenly rings out from behind you. You quickly whip around to see Agatha standing at the bottom of the stairs "She was a problem. An obstacle. She was distracting you, making you believe she loved you" Agatha takes a step up the stairs.

"She made you think the likes of her was all you deserved" She takes another step up. "We are what you deserve darling" another step. "We are the only ones who truly understand you, truly love you" She's now only a few steps down from where you stand, Rio still blocking the doorway.

Agatha's voice is soothing, soft but with her closing in you feel utterly trapped, running back into the room would do nothing, Rio is blocking the only exit, you could try running past Rio but with her apparent strength and Agatha's ability to hold people mid air without touching them....you might as well be an animal in a cage.

Both Agatha and Rio seem to pick up that you've realised how helpless your own situation is, a soft semi triumphant smile dancing across their faces. Agatha closes the distance and gently wraps her arms around you, pulling you in to a warm embrace.

"I've got you darling, we've got you, everything will be just fine" Agatha says, her voice, gentle, calm and reassuring reminding you of how a mother would comfort her child.

"You'll learn to love us as much as we do you, just let us" Rio muses in your ear, making you aware she's directly behind you. You know your best bet is to play along, to try and feel the comfort despite how wrong, at least before an opportunity arises for escape- but as Rio starts to kiss your neck like she did before you can't stop yourself from tensing, you felt disgusted the first time but now it feels worse- knowing she did this as your girlfriend was being killed, kissing your neck just like she used to-

Rio takes notice but doesn't seem to mind, continuing to place soft loving kisses up and down your neck, her cold hands resting possessively on your hips Agatha is still holding you close in a warm hug, her arms wrapped comfortingly around you. She buries her face in your hair and inhales, humming softly.

"Hmm we've been so patient you know darling, waiting for the right time. These things can't be rushed, but oh it was worth it my dear. You're here and we're going to take such good care of you" Agatha says, pulling back to admire you, your eyes are red and puffy, your lip quivering slightly, your eyes full of fear, heartbreak and a hint of anger but that does nothing to quell your beauty to Agatha.

She leans in closing any distance left and presses her lips to yours in a gentle almost careful kiss, as if she's testing your reaction. You immediately recoil but don't get too far as Rio is still directly behind you. You already felt repulsed by Rio kissing your neck, but now the woman who just killed your girlfriend in front of you is kissing you- it makes your body fill with more disgust and anger.

Agatha frowns, looking almost upset that you felt so disgusted at her kiss. Rio of course immediately recognizes her lovers reaction and her anger flares, she didn't care that you felt disgusted by her advances but you being disgusted by Agatha...

Rio's fingers dig into your arms painfully. You yelp and tense, breathing becoming slightly panicked, your anger quickly quelled by fear once again.

Rio then spins you around, her fingers digging harder into your arms, her long nails starting to draw blood. "I know this is new to you but this- we are your life now. And you will learn quickly" Rio growls through gritted teeth, always the defensive one when it came to Agatha.

Agatha's hands quickly cover Rio's and she gently pries them from your arms, you've not been too disobedient yet so she stops Rio's anger lead movements. She carefully leads the two of you up the stairs out of the basement, pushing you to the side with gentle caution, giving you a small smile with just a flash of warning in her eyes before turning back to the seething Rio.

"Be calm my love, as you said she's still new to this, she'll adjust. She'll be our perfect girl in no time" She gently reassures her lover, holding Rio's hands with a firm gentleness. Rio grumbles something in another language but takes a breath and her body seems to relax.

Agatha smiles lovingly and leans forwards to meet Rio's lips, pulling her into a loving kiss. Rio returns it eagerly, deepening the kiss with an almost desperation to feel as much of her lover as possible, quickly forgetting about any anger she held.

They both seem lost in the kiss and you see an opportunity. Your chances are slim for actually getting out, its the dead of night, most people will be fast asleep...but if you could run out, yell...get someone's attention, even if it means Rio and Agatha catching you again, it might mean someone would investigate. Find your girlfriend's body....see that you're missing. It has to be worth a try.

Before you can talk yourself out of it you make a sprint for the front door. Your hands shake as you grasp at the doorknob and a small sob of desperation escapes you as it doesn't budge. You know you're not strong enough to break down the door so you quickly run into another room, locking the door behind you even if you know it'll do nothing to stop either Agatha or Rio.

Your eyes dart around the room looking for any kind of escape, they land on a window and you rush over, attempting to open it but like the door it doesn't budge. Your breathing is fast, shaky, panicked. Adrenalin pumping through your body trying not to think about the consequences of trying to escape, you need to try, something, anything, just some way of alerting anyone.

The window is big enough for you to fit through, you could break it, Agatha and Rio must have noticed by now, you don't have time, you need to act now. Your eyes focus on the near by bookcase, spotting a sturdy looking decoration you grab it and will all the strength you have, hurl it at the window.

It doesn't break. The ornament just bouncing off the glass harmlessly. Your heart sinks....it should have worked....you scramble to find something else but stop dead in your tracks as you see the now open door, Rio and Agatha standing in it with fury on their faces.

Gone is the gentleness in Agatha's eyes, replaced with anger, disappointment and is that hurt? It makes you feel almost guilty but as you look at Rio you're quickly filled with immobilizing fear, her eyes dark, swimming with deep rage.

"You really think it'd be that easy?" Agatha mocks, her voice dripping with distain. "I thought you were a smart girl, surely you knew your efforts where fruitless?" She questions with a dry laugh. You don't dare respond, not even confidant you could speak coherently right now.

"You shouldn't have done that" Rio's voice resonates through the room, filling you with impending dread. She then looks at Agatha beside her almost as if seeking permission for something, Agatha gives a small semi reluctant nod and in a flash Rio has you by the throat, dragging you back down to the basement. Her hand is tight around your neck, almost completely cutting off your airway. She then roughly throws you to the hard stone floor releasing the grip on your neck.

You cough and splutter, trying to get sufficient air back into your lungs, clutching your throat, half in natural response and half in trying to protect it from another attack.

"You need to be taught a lesson little dove, I think I'll start by clipping your wings" Rio says with a low menacing growl. She starts slowly walking forward, the air growing colder as she does. You quickly scramble backwards until you hit the wall, looking like a terrified prey animal being cornered by an apex predator.

Rio looms over you, her dark eyes observing your fear. Your mind is racing almost as fast at your heart is, you knew that trying to run would have it's consequences but the existential fear and dread that's consuming your body is nauseating.

"I-I'm s-sorry- I- it wont happen again" you plead, your voice shaky and pathetic, trying to dig yourself out of the grave you dug knowingly, curled in on yourself, looking as small as you sound.

"No it won't. I'll make sure of that." Rio snarls before yanking out one of your legs from your curled up position, you open your mouth to plea once again but it's interrupted with a scream, ripped from your lungs as Rio stamps down hard on your lower right leg, searing pain shooting through your body as the bone snaps in half. Tears quickly blurring your vision.

"Oh I know baby it hurts doesn't it?" Rio coos "But this is what happens when you run little dove, you have to learn your lesson" She explains with a small sympathy but you hardly pay attention, the agonising pain in your leg consuming you whole. Broken sobs wracking your body, your eyes tightly shut as tears flow from them, hoping this is somehow all a dream but as you feel a sharp blade press just below your shoulder your eyes snap open again, meeting Rio's piercing gaze.

"Eyes on me" She demands, her voice low, cold, angry. "You need to pay attention or you'll learn nothing" Rio snarls before pushing the blade into your shoulder, breaking the skin, blood starting to stain your shirt.

You yelp, the cut relatively shallow but with the excruciating pain from your broken leg it's like adding fuel to an already raging fire. You try to get away but you're already sat against the basement wall and the small movement makes jolts of pain shoot up your body, an anguished sob leaves your lips.

Rio growls as you try to move away to no avail and she harshly thrusts her dagger into your shoulder, burying the blade to the hilt. You scream so loud that your throat burns, in fact it feels like your entire body is made of molten lava, blistering pain ravaging your every sense.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! P-please make it stop! Please I'm sorry Rio, Agatha- I'm sorry" You plead between sobs, the pain too much to bare, suddenly craving the gentle moments before you tired to run, as disgusted as you were you just want to be held again.

Rio's eyes soften at your broken pleas, you even used both their names despite Agatha not being in the room, it's clear she's manged to break you for now and all her anger vanishes, her softness returning in her face. She gently and very carefully pulls her dagger out of your shoulder, causing a whimper from you.

"Shh baby girl I've got you, I'll make you feel better my little dove" Rio coos, her voice now soft and loving. She places an open-mouthed kiss to your stab wound, your blood smearing her lips. You feel the wound close, the pain in that area coming to a screeching halt, you don't bother questioning it, grateful that it's gone but you soon whimper again as the flaring pain in your broken leg makes itself apparent once again.

"I know, I know baby just breathe for a second okay?" She softly sooths, gently wiping the tears from your face, you want to question why she isn't healing your leg but as you open your mouth to speak she leans in, pressing her bloodstained lips to yours, the coppery taste of your blood filling your mouth for a moment before Rio's tongue slips past your lips, calming every part of your mouth in a dominating but loving kiss. You let it happen, trying not to think about how your girlfriend would kiss you like this- it actually feels slightly nice.....it's clear through the kiss that Rio does love you despite her actions seconds ago, you're at least grateful for a positive distraction to the horrible pain in your leg.

Rio smiles against your lips as she feels you not resisting and after a little while longer of her enjoying finally getting to kiss you like this she pulls back, her cheeks ever so slightly flushed and a loving smile gracing her lips. She then carefully moves herself so her face is hovering above the bone she broke in your lower leg.

"Hold still my little dove" She says softly, any hint of anger or coldness gone, completely replaced with gentle and caring love. She then leans down, placing her hands on either side your leg, a soft green glow emitting from them. Rio places a soft kiss right above the area of your broken bone and a comforting warmth spreads through your body, eliminating any pain left. You let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the cold stone wall.

"There we go, all better sweet baby" Rio says, gently wrapping you in her arms, having you sit in her lap. You lean into her, your body exhausted from all the pain you experienced and craving gentleness, not currently caring about who it's coming from.

Rio coos sweet nothings into your ear as she cradles you in her lap, gently playing with your hair in a motion that's almost enough to make you drift to sleep. It's then that Agatha walks down the basement steps, her face softening as she sees you curled up in Rio's lap, eyes red and puffy but leaning into Rio's touch willingly.

"Is our girl finally being good again?" Agatha questions gently as she approaches. You look up at Agatha, the woman who killed your girlfriend, you should be feeling utter rage at the sight of her but after everything today, the pain you just endured...all you want is for her to hold you too.

"She's learned her lesson my love, come, see how much see needs us" Rio invites, Agatha doesn't hesitate to join Rio on the cold basement floor, Rio helping Agatha gently guide you to lay across the laps of the two women, your head in Agatha's lap. You happily let it happen, the new position feeling so comfortable, so safe, Agatha's hands gently massaging your head, her fingers weaving though your hair occasionally. Rio's hands gently caressing your body, feeling significantly warmer than before. It doesn't take long until you're asleep cradled in both women's laps, it's wrong, you know it is, but you feel protected, comforted and after all that's happened today that's what you need, even if it's from the very hands that caused that very pain....

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location.  Well, we are moving up in the world.  That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is.  And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose.  There were voices in the background progressively getting louder.  “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise.  Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway.  Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice.  “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit.  In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake.  Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear.  Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is.  However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man.  “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened.  Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field.  It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author.  I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it.  Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny!  You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm!  Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look.  On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man.  One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl.  The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives.  The man was a muscular blond.  All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work.  Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help.  Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t.  Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up.  See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage?  Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What?  No!  Kyle!  Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn.  This is some nice creature work!  Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle!  I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them.  Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head.  Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something.  All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly.  And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one.  More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been.  That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders.  It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching.  Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind.  But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

[yeeterthek33per]

Two's Company, Three's A Crowd, Four And Five Say Let Chaos Reign (Katrina Gorry x Reader)

A/n Requested. Part three to Missing Toddlers and Mayhem :) Will Edit later, cause I'm at work atm y'all.

(Y'all this took me so long freaking long to write like 😭)

Content/Warning(s): mildly suggestive, warning you now, it does get a little itty bit spicy. Harper, Kyra, R, and Chacha ganging up on Katrina.

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"So do I get to know where we're going or are we doing a surprise again, because the last time we did this, I got my butt kicked on a public beach."

Katrina🔥❤️

"If I recall correctly, that was your fault, Miss L/n."

Katrina🔥❤️

"Also, no 😘"

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"I don't recall going into this knowing you were a professional slide tackler😫"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Could have left the gear in the boot and never mentioned it. You should know us footballers are legally obligated to accept rondo challenges 😜"

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"☹️"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Turn that frown upside down, Babe😊"

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"🙃"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Smartass🙄"

Katrina🔥❤️

"But close enough."

Katrina🔥❤️

"Just be ready by 12, I'll be there soon😘"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"Of course, see you soon, Gorgeous😘"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"Wait"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"What do I wear??"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Hike meets cozy casual😘"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"Got it, thanks, Cutie😘"

You'd been talking non stop in the days between the last time you'd seen each other in person.

Over the phone, via text, even a facetime at some point, where Harper managed to sneak in and say a very happy hello to you.

The little girl manages to bring a massive smile to your face every time Katrina talks about her.

There was always a smile on your face lately, or so your sister had pointed out just yesterday.

"I swear that woman's got you glued to your phone, dorky little smile and everything."

"Leave me alone, Ash." You whine.

A soft rap on your door lifts your head from your current position of smiling over your phone.

You really need to stop proving her point.

Ashley opens the door, a small smirk already on her face making you roll your eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"It's date time soon, why are you not ready?"

"How would you know what-"

"You told me yesterday, all dreamy eyed. Geez, she got you hypnotised too now?"

You huff.

"Whatever, why are you in here?"

"Because you're being awfully quiet about this Kat and I'm worried, because you haven't said a word about who she is or what she does."

"I haven't been murdered, I'm fine, you can stop grilling, nor are you grilling her when she gets here."

"I have to do my sisterly duties, now hurry up and get ready or else I'll have longer with her because you're running late for your date."

Glancing at the clock on your wall, she's right, it's about forty or so minutes before Katrina is due.

Standing up, you shoo the woman out of your room and quickly jump into the shower, grabbing out a pair of hiking pants, a simple short sleeve shirt and a light blue denim jacket.

By the time you're out of the shower dressed and touching up your hair, there's a knock at the door downstairs.

You fire down them, shoving your sister, who's racing you to the door, away.

As smoothly as you can, you open the door with a warm smile.

Katrina's warm smile greets your own.

She's beautiful as ever and you tell her as such, the long sleeve jacket almost matching your own except she's in shorts and sneakers and a light pink button up underneath it.

"Hey, Beautiful."

You step out the door to greet the shorter woman, arms wrapping around her, her leaning up into you, hands settling on your shoulder blades.

"Hi, Cutie."

You pout softly as she goes to pull away, and then she chuckles meeting your demands with her own lips.

Humming softly in appreciation, you squeeze her waist.

"You ready?"

Nodding, you go to shut the door behind you, keys, phone, wallet and water bottle already with you.

Of course, Ashley decides now is the perfect time to pop out, only, she pauses, surprise on her expression.

"Well... I was going to do the whole sisterly, bring her back by ten talk but... I don't need to. You two have fun!"

And with that, she slams the door behind you, giving you a loving tap to the butt.

Katrina looks confused, matching your own bewilderment at your sisters actions.

"I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what that was."

You cough into your palm, covering a half laugh.

"Anyway, continuing on. Are we good to go?"

She nods, grabbing you by the hand, leading you to the car parked in your driveway.

Clipping in, she reverses out and starts driving off in the direction of the northern exit from the outer city, a drive you know well enough, having gone this way quite a few times.

She leans over and hands you a black cable, winking at you from her spot in the driver's seat.

"Passenger princess duties are all yours."

The cheeky grin makes you roll yours playfully with a small huff.

"Sure, babe."

Switching to some music you'd both listened to that Saturday night, your hand settles in hers across the console as you hit the highway.

"So, do I get to know, yet?"

"Nope."

It's short, the little smile on her lips doing little to mask the amusement in her tone, her brow quirking a little at the pout on your face.

"Patience."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Making a joking salute, you start to hum along to the radio, thumb caressing across the back of her hand.

She huffs, shaking her head but gives your hand a squeeze anyway.

The drive isn't overly long, no longer than any of the trips you've taken, about forty-five minutes on the road.

You feel like you almost recognise the roads she's taking but a right turn far before anything else comes up on the forested roads throws you a curveball.

Normally you'd been one of the more observant travellers on these roads, however, it seems you'd never paid the tiny dirt road any mind before now.

The greenery, denser than when you'd entered the little driveway, started to part into a small dirt and gravel alcove, to which Katrina pulls in, parking in front a small wooden bollard that lines the alcove.

There's dense green directly in front of you that splits into a small dirt and gravel path which disappears off to the right in a slow curve.

Reaching across the console, she taps your leg with a small grin.

"Hope you brought your hiking legs."

Scoffing, you nudge the woman and basically bounce out of the car in the face of her challenge.

"Damn right I did."

It starts off fairly easy, a basic hiking path for anyone, not much change in altitude but then it starts to increase, and you find yourself falling into the familiar rhythm that you love when it comes to hiking.

If you'd said that to your teenage self, she would've cried at the mention of cardio.

Katrina, it seems, falls into the same familiar feeling, the mild sweat from the hike mixing but also the complete relaxation in her stance as she moves beside you, ahead of you in smaller sections of the path and behind you as you move ahead to crest the more difficult bits first as a precautionary.

It's the first time you really fall into an understanding that someone else gets.

There's a peacefulness to the area surrounding you, bird chimes and occasional cicada chirps as you pass by certain bushes and grass patches.

You think you even spot a small rabbit hopping off the path ahead of you.

Finally, the incline slopes downward again, and then leads down and off to the left, the faint smell of moss and running water becoming more apparent to breathe in, it's refreshing.

"God, I've missed this."

She sounds rightly out of breath as she steps onto a particularly tall rock lodged into the path.

"You've been missing out, then?"

"Far too much, between how cold it got in Sweden and just not really going too far from the city, it's been a good while since I've even gotten to take Harper on smaller hikes."

"Damn, life of an athlete, much?"

A small joking lilt.

"Ha ha."

You can practically see her eye roll from where you're walking in front of the woman.

"It's not that bad, just keeps our lives hectic if anything."

You hum.

"How's Harper feel about that?"

You miss the way her lips curl up at the mention of the mini-mini.

"She loves it if anything, sleepovers with Nonna three times a week and when the international break pops up, she gets to stay with the team and see all twenty-two of her aunties and siblings."

The closer you get to the running water, the less the trees hang over the both of you and the more the suns starts to bead down on your light blue shirt, the warmth very familiar as winter shifts into spring once again.

It's been about an hour or so since you'd started off on the track.

She moves in front of you, turning with a small nod and grin in the direction of the beginning of a large clearing.

"C'mon, we're getting close."

The sun shines through the light brunette hair around the tops and sides of her head that most likely refused to be tied down properly, but in a neat, casual setting.

Slowing to a stop near where she's starting to descend a slightly steeper part of the path, you look out into the opening, a large water not far off to your one o'clock, the green moss abundant around its edges and the dampened ground surrounding the flowing water and the small pool built up around its base.

The pool breaks off into a surpisingly sandy bay that opens into a much larger river, flowing from another path away from you and out into what you see is the beach.

You nearly miss the small misstep as she steps on a mossed up stone, grabbing her arm to stop her falling, alarm on your face.

"Thanks."

"I gotcha."

You nod softly, hand squeezing her bicep, continuing jokingly.

"No hurting yourself, as much as I'd love to carry you back.."

She smacks you a little with a laugh before continuing down a different stone to avoid the same outcome.

"Real funny, Babe."

It's one massive secluded beach and it reminds you heavily of your first tryst together.

Only this time, it's much more private and less accessible, something you can almost appreciate with the nature of it all.

Privacy.

Another understanding between you.

As a public figure and known football player, Katrina knows the feeling well.

It doesn't come often, with media days a regular occurrence and spending near all of her time with teammates, club and country as well as with a two-year-old toddler at all hours of the day.

Of course, she wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

But privacy is a luxury that not even well paid athletes can afford.

So she understands the immediate droop and sigh of contentment when you see the vast empty beach and nothing but the sound of crashing waves and bird song behind you.

Letting your head fall back as you take in the cool summer breeze from the coastline, the smell of sea salt and damp greenery filling your senses, your head turns to look at the shorter woman.

She's already watching you, a small challenging smirk on her face that brings you back to the present.

"...What's up?"

"Nothing, I figured a nice walk and then a rematch would be a great way to start our day together."

"Rematch?... Wait-"

You're cut off as she suddenly pops out a soccer ball from behind her that she'd apparently managed to hide in her backpack the whole way, and tosses it towards you, darting off towards the beach.

"C'mon, I wanna see if you've learned anything yet!"

Jogging after her, you yell out.

"You mean that I'm not the professional footballer in this scenario and that I'm going to get my butt kicked again?"

"I'll make a baller out of you, yet, now get out here!"

It goes on like that for a while, how long exactly, you aren't sure but by the time you both land breathless onto the sand, mainly you, the sun is leaning more towards the other side of the sky.

"I hope you brought snacks, because I'm gonna need them after that last one."

Katrina giggles down at your dead flat form on the ground, chest heaving.

“You can’t give up on me now, to think you were just getting close to beating me.”

The teasing lilt to her voice makes you swat at her ankle lightly.

“Close, my ass. It’s like twenty-six to three.”

“Actually it’s about nineteen to six.”

She kicks you in the foot, tossing up a little sand in the air towards you in the process, landing near your face.

“Hey!”

“Whoops?”

Darting up, surprising yourself you tackle the woman into the soft white sand, landing on top of her.

“That is so not allowed, that was a dirty play ref!”

You call out to the imaginary sideline ref pointing off into the distance with a fake angry face on.

She’s laughing underneath you, almost breathless because of your weight on her stomach, and her hands settle to grip your hips, as you look back down at the woman with a small pout.

“Aw poor baby.”

It’s a little mocking tone that you pout more at.

Poking her tongue out up at you, she sits up slightly to tug you back down towards her, your hands landing either side of her head and you shift to be more level with the woman’s head.

“Hi.”

Grinning once again, you brush your nose against hers.

“Hi.”

A small peck to her lips is all she needs to tug you further down, fully sealing yourselves together, lips locked.

The breeze blows over your back, and the sounds of the waves wash away as you sink fully into the shorter woman, lips sliding across hers.

A new but familiar sensation, becoming accustomed to having the air in your lungs sucked from you every time you kiss her.

Sighing softly into her mouth, you take the opportunity to let your hand wander over the crook of her neck, before shifting to rest over her collar and then over her neck again.

It’s not intentional when you do it, but your thumb almost caresses the column of her throat and it’s her turn to sigh into the kiss.

Pulling away for a small breath, she notes the way your fingers now rest just under her jaw, on her neck, sending shivers through her.

If you noticed it, you don’t say anything, instead diving right back into her, fingers squeezing the skin slightly.

It seems you notice the way she hums into the kiss, a small smirk crossing your face as you let up once more.

The effect you have on her is shown well and truly in the way her cheeks redden and the part in her lips as her eyes open to meet yours.

“Hi.”

A warmth spreads through you at the smile she gives you once more.

“C’mon.”

Nudging you up once more, she pulls herself up, offering you a hand up.

Taking it, you stand close to her still, hands settling on her waist.

“So, what’s next then?”

Her hands grab yours and drag you over to where the bag lies in the sand.

“A little walk and wander and maybe a little bit more of that before dinner, hey?”

Grinning, you tug her towards the bag.

It’s just minutes back on the path that you tug her back into you for more.

You’d say you were someone who had quite the ability for self restraint, especially in previous relationships, but with Katrina, she’s just there, and it makes you want to kiss the daylights out of her every second you’re together.

Inevitably, it takes you both longer on the way back to the car, stopping every ten minutes to admire the scenery in a way only a couple making out against every tree can.

By the fifth time she’s resigned to let you do it every five minutes, more than happily letting the privacy you two have, consume you for the moment.

The way she tugs your neck down herself after an hour of this makes you well aware of the fact she feels the same.

Addicted to the way you taste.

Addicted to the way your lips slide so perfectly on her own.

By the time you get back to the car, you both look more than kiss-mussed, swollen lips, occasional purple marks over your neck when her teeth nipped at the skin.

Like love-sick teenagers.

But not that.

Not yet.

Pressed against the driver-side door, she looks up at you with a look you can’t describe other than pure and utter infatuation.

It makes your heart flip and twist like never before, the fact that someone can look at you like that.

It’s invigorating.

The brunette eventually lets go of you, and you pull back to let her off the car with a very content smile on your lips.

Opening the door for her, you gesture her into the car.

“Shall we go?”

A breathless nod and she’s in the car feeling as giddy as anything.

‘Breathe woman.’

She tells herself.

Settling into the passenger seat after packing the bags into the boot, you buckle in and the whole drive spent going to your next outing is one with clasped hands and small kisses pressed to the back of her hand and wrist.

When you pull up to a familiar club, it makes your heart swell a little.

She’d wanted to come back because the overall ambiance of the place was warm and welcoming and it made her feel comfortable in a place she wouldn’t normally spend any time going to.

Clubs have never been her thing but there was something about this one.

Maybe it was the fact you were involved in it. That it was attached to your first date together.

That would make sense.

You’ve been the deepest breath of fresh air she’s had in a long time. Even with the invigoration of her sport, her work, her home, her daughter. You’re new in her life and it makes her heart feel even more full.

The fact you adore every aspect of her life, her home, her family, makes it all that much better.

The fact that you ask to spend more time with her family without prompting when you both sit down for drinks makes her heart leap.

“Can we do the next one with Harper?”

There's a small sheepish smile on your face.

"It's just been a while since we've all had some time spent together and I miss her-"

Katrina cuts you off with a reassuring smile and a hand on yours.

“I was beginning to wonder when you’d ask again, of course we can, she’s been begging to know when she can see her new friend.”

You smile at the thought.

You had missed the little one quite a bit.

Her wide smile and nearly always happy personality brought so much light into your life that day.

When your drinks are sat down in front of you by a knowingly smirking Aiden.

“Whenever you ladies are ready, I’ve got you queued up with a classic.”

Taking a peek at the ipad in his hands, you see the song and roll your eyes.

It’s one you performed all the time for about three months straight because that’s all people would request from you.

Dragging the woman up with your drinks and a wink at the woman who’s just resigned to the fact she now has to sing every time she’s with you here.

There’s an adoration in her eyes as you step up onto the stage, keeping your eyes locked on hers and speak into the mic with a small wink.

“Hey everyone, we’ve got a good old classic today, it seems I’ve been requested of this one with my duet partner. Everyone thank Aiden for us.”

When the instrumental starts, Katrina half huffs at the song choice, half laughs.

Love Shack by The B-52

You start the song off, letting her get comfortable with the song first.

If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says "15 miles to the Love Shack"

Love Shack, yeah, yeah I'm heading down the Atlanta highway Looking for the love getaway

Bouncing to the beat slightly, you encourage her to move with you, gesturing down at the second mic that has been slipped into her grasp.

Headed for the love getaway I got me a car, it's as big as a whale And we're headin' on down to the Love Shack I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20 So hurry up and bring your jukebox money

You almost have to laugh, she's better at this song than most would expect.

In fact, you'd bet she was better than you.

The love shack is a little old place where We can get together Love Shack, baby (the Love Shack, baby) Love Shack, baby, Love Shack Love Shack, baby, Love Shack Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (love, baby, that's where it's at) Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (love, baby, that's where it's at)

The pair of you yelling the chorus into the mic has a few people in the bar up and singing along as well, a few whistles and cheers as the pair of you keep making eye contact with each other.

Sign says (woo), "Stay away, fools" 'Cause love rules at the Love Shack Well, it's set way back in the middle of a field Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back

There's something about the way she dips and kisses you mid song.

You know you're screwed when she pulls you back up and there's a wink thrown your way as she turns to the crowd and starts hopping along to the beat finally, encouraging them to do the same.

You never thought you'd be up here, jamming along with a woman who's been matching your adventurous nature since you've met her.

Despite being someone who has somehow managed to calm your erratic nature, she's also had the more energetic side of her brought out that she normally only sees amongst the kids of the team.

Glitter on the mattress Glitter on the highway Glitter on the front porch Glitter on the highway

There's a small giggle she let's out as you step up and belt out the next verse.

The Love Shack is a little old place where We can get together Love Shack, baby (Love Shack, baby) Love Shack, that's where it's at Love Shack, that's where it's at

You don't miss the small shake of her head when you poke your tongue out between your teeth cheekily at her.

In fact your eyes stay on her for the majority of the song, every movement, every gesture, every expression, every grin while she sings with you.

The sweetest brightest laughter as you both duck off the stage panting is what seals the deal for you.

Her eyes glint with joy up at you and that's when you know she has you hook line and sinker.

-

"So he had to bail you out?!"

"I know right?"

"Babe that is so not-"

"Waitwaitwait before you judge me on it-"

She snorts and covers her mouth at the small glare you give her across the table, having to silence your own laughter to make it hold even a remote amount of sincerity, though she knows otherwise by the quirk in your lips.

Standing, you gesture to the door, wanting to get away from the loudness of the bar for a few moments.

You continue outside into the slowly cooling afternoon air.

"The dude had it coming, he was being way too touchy with this poor girl and security was not doing anything-"

"So you drop him in a trash can after throwing hot sauce in his eyes?!"

"It was well deserved, she was very grateful to not be harassed by that asshole anymore. Besides, the assault charges were dropped when I offered to show them the club footage of him grabbing where he shouldn't"

"Still, you shouldn't have risked going to jail over that-"

"I'd have broken his nose, too, but I literally just had a manicure done finally after like a year of refusing to go, I didn't feel like being made to go back, again."

An amused shake of her head as you both slowly walk down the path to the carpark.

"You're something else."

"That better be a good thing."

She giggles at the half pearl clutch gesture you make in response paired with an offended look.

"Of course it is, babe."

Giving your hand a squeeze, she can only smile at the grumpy look you give her.

"Hush you."

"Or what?"

"Or I might just do something about it."

"Do it."

A beat of silence, your eyes locked on the cocky smirk on her face.

She's baiting you, you know it.

Of course, you take it.

Two steps back towards her.

Three steps pushing her back into the building wall.

One more to find your place pressed against her.

None to press your lips into hers like they'd never separated in the first place.

The small hum she lets out as you do so makes the idea of the very public display suddenly leave your mind, wanting nothing more than to hear more from her.

It's when you pull away gently with a tug and pop that you both pull back a little breathless.

"That works."

She says, eyes still closed, breathing ragged.

You notice a flash of movement, thinking it was a stranger walking by until a small body crashes into the woman in front of you.

"Mummy!"

"Oh my god, Harper what did I say about running off like that? Especially across roads?! You can't do tha-"

A huffing, clearly scared looking Charlie practically sprints around the corner, bent over at the knees.

Her head snaps up at the realisation of who Harper's managed to run into.

"Oh! Mini, Hi!"

The brunette looks a little unimpressed at the blonde.

You get the distinct feeling it's less from the interruption and more the words of the woman who'd just been sprinting after her daughter.

"Charlotte Grant..."

"Wait. Wait. I didn't- She ran off. I promise I was doing everything to chase her down. It was a little road."

Katrina sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The tiny human being attached to her leg looks up at her with an innocent grin on her face.

"Harper, what did we say about running off?"

Picking up the smaller blonde, sitting her on her hip.

Suddenly very sheepish looking like only a toddler can, she looks in your direction in search of something to avoid the conversation.

Of course, with you being you, she does very quickly.

Practically jumping into your arms with excited squeal, the small child latches onto you out of the older woman's arms.

"Y/n/n!"

Giving her a squeeze, a few giggles leaving your lips at the affection from the little girl you hadn't seen in person since that first day, only catching some time talking to the little one over a phone screen.

"Hi Harper, whatcha doin here, huh?"

"Goin to the park."

"Is that right?"

You smile and wave to Charlie with an amused glint in your eye.

The twenty-two year old nods sheepishly.

Looking down at the little one in your arms, you raise a brow in her direction, too.

She nods enthusiastically, her little arms wound tight around your neck as she lays her head on your shoulder.

Katrina watches the exchange between her daughter and yourself with a hardly hidden heart eyes look.

She'd totally forgotten that the park they usually go to is only a couple blocks from where you both were, but it's on the other side.

Raising her brows in Charlie's direction, a small questioning look on her face.

"I can... explain.."

Another pair of footsteps come running around the corner, too, nearly bumping into the blonde, a mop of now very messy wind blown brunette hair.

"Charlie did you get her- oof!"

Nearly ending up in a tangled mess on the floor, Charlie catches the both of them from falling.

"Idiot."

"Hey! You're the one that- Oh hey, Min', we were just- oh."

The mischievous look on Kyra's face that appears at the sight of you.

"That's what you were busy with today. Or who you were busy with."

She wiggles her brows at the older woman.

"I swear, do I need to start leaving you three with Nonna, again?"

Harper's head whips up so fast, you nearly clash heads and you're surprised she doesn't give herself whiplash.

"Nonna? Can we go see Nonna?"

"Sorry Harps', you can see Nonna tomorrow, it's just Kyra and ChaCha for now, alright?"

The little girl pouts for a minute before settling back into your arms.

"Oky, I stay wiv y/n/n, then."

You chuckle at her, before looking up at Katrina.

"Mind going for a walk to the park?"

She sighs softly, before shrugging.

"Alright, why not?"

You pass the little girl back to Charlie, much to her protests.

"One minute Harps, You can hop up again in a bit, I need to talk to mum first alright?"

She pouts before nodding.

You nod at the two to walk ahead, grabbing Katrina's hand softly.

"We can always continue later? You haven't got anything time sensitive?"

She shakes her head no with a small chuckle.

"Just a walk in restaurant, they're open late, though, it'll be fine."

You quirk a brow at her, and she makes the lip-zipping motion.

"C'mon, we've got a little girl waiting."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you both walk slowly behind the group, though quickly get dragged into carrying Harper for the remainder of the walk, still holding hands with the shorter woman beside you.

The pair of twenty-somethings ahead bickering only serves as a reminder of how chaotic this life is for the Footballer, yet it doesn't bother you.

In fact, it feels like something so much bigger for you, something you could get behind.

You don't want to commit yourself so early, but you don't fight the way your heart swells with a little love each and every word you exchange with both Harper and Katrina.

By the time you're both wandering back to the car, late after Kyra and Charlie have left, taking the little one back home to bed.

Late after having sat and eaten and discussed everything from Harper to thousands of kilometres away worlds of a sport you've never found yourself loving before now.

At least now, it seems you've found your favourite people entwined with it.

It's then you find yourself wanting to learn more.

"Hey, I know this is probably something you hear with your work a lot, but just, talk to me about football, anything you want, the rules, the games, anything."

She looks a little surprised that you bring it up, considering you've never personally been a big sports fan, at least, as much as she's known for the past couple weeks.

"I thought you didn't want to know about it?"

"Actually, I want to learn about it, if I'm gonna be showing up to my sister's matches, and maybe get to see you."

You pause, and the last bit is said with a little sheepishness behind it, though you don't miss the way her smile widens at it.

"I wanna know about the game. Or even just your experiences with it. What do you love about it? Tell me anything."

With that, she starts off on where she started with it, how much she loved it as a kid, how she always spent time playing it with her brothers, her time in the academy, in the beginning with the youth team in Mount Gravatt, to her start with the Melbourne Victory and everywhere after.

How she came to Brisbane Roar, her time in the US.

Her injury, her time spent trying to recover. Of course, she's told you the basics of how Harper came to be.

She talks about some of the bigger games she's played.

About the upcoming World Cup in July.

"You should come see us play."

"You'd want me there?"

"Of course I would."

It's said short and almost in an offended tone, but it shows so much more for you.

She wants you there at the biggest stage of her career.

You don't protest it.

"I'll be there, then."

"Good, I would hate to have to pack you into a suitcase to drag you to camp with us instead."

A laugh escapes your lips at that, head tilted back in laughter.

"Of course you would. You're cute. No but seriously, are you sure? I wouldn't be intruding?"

"Hell no, if eighty thousand other people can be there to watch it, why can't you?"

"Fair enough."

You continue like that, laughing, chatting, letting her rant on and on about everything and anything because you could listen to this woman go on and on for hours with no complaint.

Swinging your joined hands as you both wander along the boardwalk she'd taken you to, you look out on the slowly darkening skies over the water.

The colours are as amazing to witness as always, to the point where you both settle on a bench to relax a bit and watch it darken a bit longer.

The sparkle of the fading sun behind you warms your backs as you both settle into each other, the shorter woman contentedly tucked into your side, words starting to slow and you both quieten to enjoy the moment.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

Turning your head to meet her gaze with the tips of her fingers.

"I like you. A lot."

You grin.

"I would hope so. Or this could be really awkward for- hey!"

She smacks your shoulder with a little roll of her eyes.

"Kidding. I really like you, too."

"Too? I only said like not really."

You guffaw at the woman.

"Hey!"

She giggles.

"Okay, I deserved that."

Grinning, you lean down to meet her lips for the what seems like thousandth time today, though, neither of you mind at all.

It's soft, sweet and much less urgent than all of the ones earlier.

It's easy.

You find it easier and easier with each pass to kiss her.

There's a way she spends the time holding your face, caressing the skin of your cheek, that has you in an absolute whirlwind of just... her.

It's invigorating beyond anything.

Yet also, cathartic.

She tastes like home.

And who knows, maybe this is what you've been missing.

The cathartic parts.

A way to calm an already chaotic life.

Sure, she's a professional footballer, that gets chaotic more than a lot of jobs do but it's the way she handles everything. Somehow able to juggle the life of having a child and playing football across the country and internationally when called to.

But to be honest with yourself, there's nowhere you'd rather be than with this somehow new cemented person in your life.

You can't wait to see where this goes.

-

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU WERE GOING OUT WITH THE KATRINA GORRY!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ashley! Chill!"

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

[thesassypadawan]

Christmas Tree (Hayden x FemGremReader)

Summary: Wanting to have a little holiday date, you decide to mix things up a bit.  Do something from the usual corny movie, cocoa, and cuddling.  That involves two of your favorite passions and some paint with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut.  Fun on top (ride it), some interesting body paints, big Christmas tree and balls, a little star, cheesy puns, and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes:  Happy Holidays, lovelies!  Welcome to track two of my special holiday mix, Christmas Tree! ❤️💚

(Merry Christmas, @anakinsbbgirl! 🎅)

- “Stop, no peeking…”  Dipping your brush into, swirling it around in another color.  “Stay still…”  Look of concentration, brow scrunched.  “You’re going to make a mess of all my hard work…”  While you block out and ignore the sound of his low hisses, soft grunts.   “Few more and…”  Carefully doting, creating lines of glittery red on his jingle balls.

- “There, finished!”  Squealing, squeaking happily you sit back on Hayden’s thighs.  Admiring your handiwork, how the whole scene seems to twinkle in the tree’s light.  Bouncing a bit for joy…maybe a tad too much.  Mighty booty causing a small ‘oof’ to escape him; painfully, hard cock twitch.  “You can look now!”

- “All right…all right,” he mutters, hint of intrigue in his gravelly voice.  As he slowly eases, props up onto his elbows.  Those blue orbs opening a crack, chin tilting down slightly…to take all of your ‘masterpiece’ in.  “Let's see what we got.”

- Instantly a bemused smile spreads across his face, crinkles the corners of his eyes.  Gruff chuckle rumbles deep in his elaborately decorated chest.  “Wow, grem; great job…”  Hand blindly reaching for his phone, trying not to destroy the festive mural painted on his upper body and lower.  “Definitely one of your best, but they all are…”

- Always so sweet, dorkingly adorable.  Between hearing his words of praise, which are never far apart or in short supply.  And watching him struggle to snag a pic; tongue peeking out, leaning awkwardly in an attempt to get it entirely in the shot.  You couldn’t help but have your heart melt, bust out in a small fit of giggles… 

- You can’t help but have your heart melt, bust out in a fit of giggles.  “Here, Hay; let me do that…”  Teasingly you offer, plucking the device from his clumsy hold.  Blowing him a little kiss for good measure.  “…before you drop it.”

- “Yeah…thanks,” he slowly replies. Grin widening, warm palms coming to rest and settle on your plush waist.  Giving each handle a gentle, affectionate squeeze…eliciting a small coo and jump from you, curves jiggling.  “These big mitts can be awkward sometimes…ya know?”

- Snapping a few quick ones from multiple angles.  Capturing the ‘beauty’ and ‘essence’ of your magical, wintery landscape.  “Mmmh, I wouldn’t say that.”  Including and giving extra attention to the LARGE tree that stands proud, tall over it all.  Decorated so prettily with mini ornaments, strands of golden garland, and glistening globs of runny snow.  “I think they’re actually very skilled…in certain areas of expertise.”

- It really was perfect, except…

- “Wait, it’s still missing one thing though.”  Setting his phone off to the side, tucking it safely underneath the branches of your real tree.  Amongst all the other brightly wrapped trinkets and treasures.  “The thing that really makes it feel extra  jolly.”  You submerge your fingers into the paint pot once more; thoroughly coating them, drawing on your tiny paunch a haphazard…  “Star.”

- Hands wander lower, cupping and kneading your plump cheeks.  “A star, huh?”  Firmly, enough for your pillowy flesh to spill out between the cracks of his long fingers.  “And, let me guess, it needs to go on top of the tree…right?”  While Hayden pulls, urges you to lift that ra-pa-pum-bum of yours a bit.

- Eagerly and joyfully you do so.  “Yeah…”  Shifting forward; fingertips press, dips slightly.  Imprinting unique, metallic splotches on his toned yet soft abdomen.  “…you get it.”  

- Glistening core aligns with, hovers above…grinds against.  “Every oversized tree needs a little star…”  Spreading some of that runny snow around your naughty entrance.  “…to fit snugly, tightly on its’ thick tip.”

- Gaze locks with his and you sink down agonizingly slow.  Enjoying that familiar feeling of your gummy walls struggling from the blissfully uncomfortable stretch.  “Especially one…”  That look of barely withheld restraint on his handsome face, clearly fighting the urge to not just thrust up.  “…that’s as majestic as…”  The moment both of your sexes are overtaken and overwhelmed by the intense icy, tingliness of the peppermint infused chocolate body paint. “…y-yours.”

- Sucking in sharp breaths together, panting softly in unison.  “So, what do you say…”  Goosebumps pebbling on and across both your skins.  “Let's fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la all night long…”  You begin to cant, grind your hips with some help from those ‘big mitts’.  “See who can light up who the most…”  Taking your time, soaking in the shared moment of him being underneath your Christmas tree.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey, @anakinstwinklebunny

  @hearts4sammonroe, @pitas-star, @sythethecarrot, @naberriess, @steven-grants-world, @valyna27, @elcaballerodragon, @yayyy5678, @anakinsrilgirlfriend, @padme-urlove,  @brattyyybbg, @mrschr1stensen, @rosie-chan92, @beresfordsgirl, @darthdaddi

[zombvic]

BLUE IS THE COLOR (mason mount x reader)

summary : in which y/n and mason argue about their newborn babys favorite football team

face claim : not needed

notes : im a sucker for dad fics and as of right now mason is my no1 pookie 😝 also imagine hes still in chelsea cause i refuse to support any other london team #loyal (god i miss prime chelsea). ALSO.. if u dont support barcelona or chelsea .. idk i dont think youll like this fic so mby pretend its ur teams xxx except for Madrid 😊 (i dont hate madridistas but yk im a culer soooooo) im also now seeing that the font is apparently purple but im slightly colorblind so js ignore that thanks xx

pairings : mason mount x reader (dad!mason mount)

"NO SHOT, my baby is NOT supporting Barcelona" The Chelsea midfielder argued. You and Mason have been together for quite some time already (five years to be exact) and you've recently welcomed your firstborn son, Nicolas Mount into the world.

You were born into a family full of FC Barcelona fans, so naturally, you became one aswell. Even after meeting your boyfriend, a Chelsea player, he couldn't change your mind. Thankfully, these two teams are in different leagues so you don't have to worry about having an aneurysm everytime these two played eachother (except for the champions league and thats also just a maybe)

This was a conversation the two of you have had multiple times, even before your baby was born. It was always shrugged off but now, that your son is here. It was time to decide.

"How about everytime Barcelona plays, he wears their jersey but any other time it's your jersey?"

"I'd look unloyal and like im joining Barcelona" (ironic isn't it) the brown haired man laughs.

You playfully roll your eyes at Mason's remark, knowing that this debate wasn't going to end anytime soon.

"Oh come on, Mason. It's just a jersey, it doesn't determine his loyalty at this age, just the fact that he's not a Madrid fan"

"But it's the principle, Y/N. We can't have our little boy supporting a rival team right from the start," Mason chuckles, ruffling Nicolas' tiny hair as he sleeps peacefully in his crib.

You lean in closer, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Fine, how about this? We let him decide when he's old enough. Until then, we can take turns dressing him up in each team's gear. That way, he'll grow up knowing both teams and make his own choice."

Mason considers your proposal for a moment, a smile forming on his face. "Alright, deal. But I'm warning you, I'll be teaching him all the Chelsea chants in the meantime," he jokes, kissing your forehead.

"Okay but he has Catalan blood? He's gonna be a Culer by default"

"I'm pretty sure he's gonna be sick of both teams and become a Juventus fan by the time he can decide" The man jokes while looking at his son.

"Still better than Madrid"

yapfest part two, i put out a poll and yall said i should do this but idk if its good 😭 anyways hope you enjoyed

[anto-pops]

Hushed Whispers - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: After working Sebastian into a frenzy before class, he refuses to acquiesce to your half-measures and steals you away to finish what you started.

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian having frantic, semi-public sex in an empty classroom.

Based on a request I received for “impatient broom cupboard shenanigans” except they aren’t in a broom cupboard, but SEMANTICS.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex

Full fic can be found here on Ao3!

You should have known you were playing with fire the second you rolled out of bed this morning. 

It had all started with a few light touches to motivate Sebastian into waking up. Nowadays he was all too content to tug the covers over his head and sleep through whatever class he was supposed to attend, so you’d taken the liberty of… enticing him, into turning his brain on. 

With your hands. On his cock. 

Maybe it was a little cruel in hindsight, but you hadn’t counted on Ominis drawing the curtains around the bed at the same time Sebastian was really getting into the feeling of you stroking him. Blue balled and embarrassed, you’d walked to breakfast with the two Slytherins in a tense silence. Sebastian was rigid, his lips pressed in a hard line as he doubled his efforts not to shift his hips too much while he walked, lest he come in his trousers from the friction. 

Now seated inside the Great Hall, Sebastian looked deep in thought before he asked, “Do you think Professor Weasley will let me retake the exam tomorrow if I skip today?” The fork in his ironclad grip seemed to be on the verge of bending in half. 

Ominis scowled at his plate, having expected him to say something like this. He had known exactly where Sebastian’s one-track mind would steer him after interrupting you both this morning. “Not without cause, and your boner isn’t a valid enough reason to miss an exam day.” 

There was no helping it– you snorted into your hot chocolate. Ominis continued to dissect his food in favor of entertaining his friend’s lust-fueled thoughts, and as you brought the rim of your cup to your lips, your eyes connected with Sebastian’s dark, suggestive gaze. 

Merlin’s beard. You shouldn’t have laughed. 

“We’ll meet you in class, Ominis.” Sebastian declared, smacking his fork down on the table and hauling you to your feet by the fabric of your robes. 

You hastily set down your drink before it could slosh all over the table. “We? Wait, what–” 

“Are you serious?” Ominis groused, and his brows slammed down atop those narrowed, milky blue eyes. “I am not covering for you this time. You can take the detention you’ll get in stride.” 

“Don’t bother, we’ll be there.” With that the brunet spun on his heel, dragging you with him as he strode out of the Great Hall and led you down a deserted corridor near the Courtyard. You were barely walking, completely at Sebastian’s mercy as he practically carried you by the scruff of your clothes to wherever he wanted to take you. Your feet caught on a few loose stones on the way, but your boyfriend simply tugged you upright before you had the chance to stumble. 

“Sebastian– wait, what the hell are you thinking?” 

He abruptly dipped to the right, pulling you into an empty classroom and throwing you against the wall as the door clicked shut beside you. “I’m thinking you should finish what you started this morning, darling.”

Before you could respond, Sebastian had captured your lips in a brutal kiss, biting and licking with an intensity that left you dizzy in his strong arms. You melted as he fucked his tongue into your mouth, clinging tighter to his shoulders as he brought one of his hands up to begin undoing the buttons on your blouse. The other delved lower, tracing up the burning skin of your leg and bunching the material of your skirt into a heap below your navel. When his fingers slipped under the cotton of your underwear, he swiped a digit through your wet folds, and you gasped into his mouth, garnering a chuckle from him. 

He teased around the bundle of nerves you were both desperate and loathing for him to touch. There wasn’t a lot of time before the two of you needed to be in your seats with your quills and parchment out, ready to take your Transfiguration exam. Sebastian might not care about his attendance, but you didn’t want to go out of your way to invoke the wrath of Professor Weasley. 

As though he could read your thoughts, Sebastian broke away from the kiss to mouth wetly down the column of your neck. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he bit at your pulse gently, making you sigh and tip your head back against the wall. “I’ll be so good to you, but if I don’t have you now I’ll fail that fucking exam regardless of whether or not I’m there for it.” 

“F-Fuck, Sebastian,” you whispered into the empty air, and he rewarded you by roughly pressing circles around your clit, pinning you more firmly between his body and the wall so he could focus solely on shattering your composure. “We could be back at the dorms in like, two minutes.” 

He pulled away from your love-bitten neck to stare at you fixedly with those lust-dark eyes, “Or we could be fucking in two minutes.”

Touché. 

You finally relented, throwing caution to the wind as you wound your arms around Sebastian’s neck and crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. To hell with it, you thought. You’d been just as disappointed leaving things the way you did this morning, even if seeing Sebastian so worked up was an added bonus to the whole thing. He met you halfway, leaning into you further to completely overwhelm your senses until all you could taste, hear, smell, and feel was him. Sebastian’s fingers resumed their ministrations against your core, drawing small twitches and breathy moans from you as he reduced you to a mewling pile of limbs. The steady roll of his groin against your thigh had you eagerly writhing back on his hand, hungry for more than just his teasing touch. 

When Sebastian finally thrust a slender finger inside of you, he practically lifted you onto your toes with the vigor he exhibited. The feeling had you groaning into his mouth, your nails digging painfully into the bare skin of his neck, and the sting had his cock twitching enthusiastically in his pants. 

“Hah,” he chuckled down at you, secretly losing his fucking mind at how perfect you looked trapped between his flushed chest and the wall. Your eyes were pinched shut with obvious desire as he stroked inside your pulsing heat with his finger, and when he went to add a second, you couldn’t help but shamelessly buck against him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re enjoying this a bit more than you let on.” 

He felt your nails scrape up the nape of his neck before you grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head forcefully to the side, and he swore your penetrating gaze bore into his very soul. “You started it.” 

All of his brain functions ceased when he felt you bite down on his pulse, working an angry bruise of your own into his freckled skin with a fervor that nearly had him coming in his trousers then and there. “Fuck, darling–” 

“Hurry up and fuck me already,” you kissed at the blossoming hicky once, twice, then began trailing one of your hands down to the leather of Sebastian’s belt. Your fingers had barely grazed the metal buckle before he was ripping his fingers out of your cunt to grip you by your hips, lifting you up easily so he could carry you to a desk a few feet away. 

In an instant Sebastian deposited you there and spun you around, aggressively yanking your skirt and undergarments down to your knees in one quick motion. As soon as you were exposed to him, he was pushing your chest into the cool wood, trusting you to lay still for him as he hastily undid his belt and shucked the material down some to free his painfully hard cock. Peering at him over your shoulder, you watched hungrily as Sebastian’s swollen member sprung free from his trousers, and you licked your lips when your eyes caught sight of the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head. 

Sebastian leaned over you then, his delicious weight sandwiching you against the desk, and he took a brief moment to relish in the feeling of his cock rubbing between the shapely curve of your ass. A small, needy sound slipped from your clenched teeth at the sensation, and Sebastian’s fingers wound their way in your hair to jerk your head back to meet him. At the same time he pulled your head towards him, he slammed his hips forward, sheathing himself in you so fast and so abruptly that your spine rounded and you were pressing back against him with everything in you. 

“Fuck– mmph–” His other hand flew up to your mouth, muffling your cries of delight as he set a brutal pace. 

“You have to be quiet,” Sebastian growled the demand in your ear, and the gravelly tone to his voice made you whimper. “Or are you trying to get us caught, hm? Do you want everyone outside to hear you begging for my cock, screaming my name for more?” 

He punctuated the question with a particularly forceful thrust, and the action had you jolting against the desk, the pain in your hip bones quickly blurring into tingling pleasure. Unable to form words around his hand, you could only moan feebly in response. Your nails dug fitfully into the wood under you as you rutted back with the slightest give you were allowed, desperate for more friction– more of anything.

Sebastian released his hold on your hair to rub firm, titillating circles against your clit, and the sudden attention left you breathless for all of two seconds before you wailed his name from behind his hand, the muffled sound doing more for Sebastian than he cared to admit. He knew you couldn’t keep quiet if you tried. Even if he hadn’t been chasing the sounds out of you, your voice never failed to make an appearance when his cock was making quick work of you. 

He gave up on muffling your voice then, letting his hand trail down your throat to grip you and pull you back on to his cock with precision that left your legs boneless. Sebastian felt you sag underneath him, your pulsing walls warning him of your impending climax. “You want more, darling?” 

Sebastian ground hard into you when you opened your mouth, drawing a high pitched whine from your kiss-swollen lips instead of your shaky confirmation that yes– you wanted more– but he already knew that, and he gave you a few quick, rough thrusts to appease the growing fire in your gut. 

“Sebastian, fuck–” you gasped, clawing helplessly at the hard surface beneath you. “Please, please, like that like that–” 

He grinned into the crook of your shoulder. Just a moment longer– your frantic little noises were igniting a storm in his veins. “Like this?” He rolled his hips slowly into you, his thrusts deep but so far from enough. You couldn’t fight your disappointed sigh as you shook your head, craning your neck to the side to peer at him through the corner of your eye. “Or like this,” Sebastian whispered, pulling out nearly all the way before ramming his cock into you once, twice, and then he was seeing stars from how suddenly you tightened around him. 

“Yes! Oh fuck– please, yes–” Throwing your head back against Sebastian’s shoulder, you arched impossibly further into his hold, letting him drag your body back onto his shaft however he pleased because fuck– you didn’t even need to say anything. He was fucking you so rough and so perfect, it took everything in you not to scream his name loud enough to alert the entire school to your escapades, but even if you did, you doubted you would give a shit at this point. 

When you came, you did so with a hoarse cry of Sebastian’s name, and the feeling of his fingers digging harder into your throat to pull you back onto his cock mercilessly brought you higher than you thought possible. Sebastian continued to rub small, overstimulating circles over your clit as you crumbled apart, causing you to shake and writhe under him. With every faltering thrust, he ground his balls against your ass, stealing his pleasure from you desperately, and when he finally followed after you into white bliss, Sebastian swore the ground fell out from under his feet.

With one final grunt, Sebastian collapsed against your back, mindlessly rutting into you to milk the last bits of cum from his softening cock. He sighed, thoroughly pleased with himself now that his baser urges had been satiated. The tips of his fingers traced small, soothing circles along the skin of your thigh, and you shuddered at the feeling. 

He honestly wasn’t ready to pull out yet, but he knew some part of your recovering brain had to be uncomfortable wedged against the desk. “Sweet Merlin, Darling,” he managed to utter before pushing himself onto his elbows and letting his cock slide out of your familiar warmth. “You alright?” 

“I can’t feel my legs,” you groused, voice slightly muffled since your cheek was pressed against the wood. Sebastian laughed softly and looped his warm hands around your shoulders, standing you upright so he could pull your underwear and skirt back up for you. As he stood to fix his own trousers, the two of you finally got to take a good look at one another, and you both went slack-jawed at the sight. 

Sebastian had a telling, red hickey right above the collar of his shirt. It was too far above his neckline to stand a chance at being hidden, and even if it could have been concealed, vicious welts left from your nails stretched up the expanse of his neck, disappearing into his hair. It looked like one of the cats had gotten ahold of him and emerged victorious. 

In turn, you looked absolutely wrecked. Sebastian considered dimly that he might have gone overboard with assaulting your neck throughout the entire ordeal; between the assortment of love-bites that now lined your throat and the finger shaped bruises that curled under your jaw, he imagined your only saving grace from prying eyes would be a giant scarf. 

Unfortunately, there was no time to run to your dorms to grab extra clothing. The bell tolled then, signaling the start of the school day, and you realized with thinly veiled horror that you only had five minutes to get to Transfiguration. 

“Shit, we have to go,” you leapt off the desk in a flash and nearly collapsed to the floor from how jelly-like your legs were. “Fuck!” 

Sebastian was there steadying you in a heartbeat, his chest swelling with barely contained pride. He’d fucked you so hard you couldn’t even walk properly… he was so going to pass that exam now. “Need a hand?” 

You fixed him with a pointed glare as you hurried to adjust your robes, “Those hands have done more than enough, thank you very much. Besides, you should be worried about yourself– that hickey isn’t going to hide itself.” 

Sebastian mirrored your actions, fixing his trousers and smoothing away any wrinkles in his uniform. Then he smirked, “Why would I want to hide it? I love wearing your brand on me. It’s hotter than hell– so’s that constellation of bruises you’ve got going on.” 

“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, but the words were devoid of any genuine frustration. Mostly, you just wanted to make it to class on time. Combing through the final tangles in your hair, you took Sebastian’s hand in your own, tugging him towards the door. “Come on, if we run we can make it in time.” 

“Can you even run? It didn’t look like your legs were working ten seconds ago.” 

“Merlin’s bloody balls, Sebastian, I will withhold sex from you for a month if we miss this exam.”

The two of you made record time, with Sebastian borderline carrying you to Professor Weasley’s class in a similar fashion to the way he hauled you from the Great Hall earlier. When you both slumped in your seats beside Ominis, he acknowledged the two of you with a grunt. Your eyes scanned the classroom in a bid to make sure that you truly had arrived before your Professor, and when you spotted Imelda and Garreth across the room, your stomach sank. 

The Slytherin Quidditch Captain was snickering demonically behind her sleeve, whispering something to Garreth, whose face turned an impressive shade of red once his eyes flickered to your neck. He gave you a bashful wave when he saw you staring. 

Imelda spun in her seat to grab Natty’s attention next, and before you knew it, you watched as Imelda pointed at her own neck, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. Natty’s gaze found yours in an instant, and her expression transformed into something coy and knowing. She grinned boldly at you, giving you a thumbs up that Sebastian caught sight of, much to your dismay. 

He chuckled next to you, unashamed at the attention, and poked at one of the many marks that now lined the column of your neck. You shivered at the touch, well aware of the painstaking day that now lay ahead of you. Scarf or no scarf, your friends’ knowing stares would haunt you for the foreseeable future. 

As your head tipped forward and thunked against the table, you found yourself honestly wondering if detention would have been preferable to this unique form of torment.

[milaisreading]

Your World 5!YN is so cute. They’re all like: 😍 while YN thinks they all hate her. Do you think the blue lock boys would be protective over her bc she’s like a big sister to them? Like the blue lock boys would try to shut down any flirting going on because “excuse you, that’s our sister.”

🌱🩷: Thanks for the request! I hope u like this, anon🫶🏻

Warning: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open. Send some World 5 requests, pls

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Now, the Blue Lock boys weren't really into anything besides football. Why would they be? Football was their main driving force in this facility. If they mess up, their careers will be over. The dream of going to the World Cup and winning would be all gone. But, that doesn't mean they were oblivious to emotions or caring towards other people. Specifically their manager, who they came to see as a sister and friend who they would talk to when they needed it the most.

(Y/n), of course wanted the best for them and for them to be in their best mental state. A football player with a bad mental or emotional health wasn't good. Besides, they were still kids, so she tried to make their stay as stress free as possible. They wanted some snacks from time to time? (Y/n) would talk it out with Ego. The boys missed the city? A trip to the best spots in Tokyo was organized? They wanted to talk? (Y/n) had made sure to tell them from day one she would listen to them.

The boys were pretty content with their manager and stay there... Until the World 5 team decided to make a visit and see the progress of the team.

"Progress my ass." Otoya rolled his eyes as he watched Adam chatting away with (Y/n) during one of their breaks. The team knew the 4 men liked her, anyone could see it, except for (Y/n) apparently since she wasn't on edge around either. The last time they saw someone confess her, they noticed she was on edge around the guy and would cut their conversations really short.

But, back to what Otoya, Hiori, and Kurona were seeing. The trio decided to follow the Brit around and see what he was up to, and as expected, they saw him talking to (Y/n). The conversation looked normal as far as they could hear, thank God for these translator earplugs Reo's family gave them.

"What are we supposed to do? We can't let her fall into the hands of... him." Hiori said while pointing at the Brit.

"I have an idea. Kurona, what's your pain tolerance?" Otoya looked at the boy, who just glared up at him.

"Come near me and I will bite you."

"No violence." The cyan-haired boy warned.

"So, anyway, do you like your stay here so far?" (Y/n) asked after she finished laughing at some joke Adam said. The man looked away for a moment as a blush spread across his face, but quickly looked back.

"It's good. I see the facility upgraded a lot more since we were here the last time."

"Mhm! The donations from the Mikage Corp really did a lot. I wa surprised you would stay here again." (Y/n) added in, causing the Brit to look at her in confusion.

"Why wouldn't I stay here. This place has everything I could ever need." Adam answered, glancing at (Y/n) and looking her up and down.

'Or everyone.'

"Well, it's kind of boring here, and Tokyo has a lot of attractions this time of the year. Also, there are a lot of pretty women around, since you are interested in them a lot."

The woman said, laughing nervously at the last part. Adam looked at her in disbelief and it took him a moment to answer.

'This woman... I didn't even look at another woman since we last saw each other.' The Brit thought to himself, moving a little closer to her.

"Well, that's true, isn't it? Wouldn't it be nice if we snuk out and you showed me those places?"

(Y/n) looked up at him in surprise, not expecting him to want to go anywhere with her.

'Huh? I thought footballers of his caliber would rather want to be seen with models.'

"Well, it sounds like a nice idea-"

"(Y/n)-san! Kurona is in the medic room!"

Adam was about to yell at Otoya to go away, but bit his tongue when he remembered (Y/n) was next to him.

"What?! Is he ok?" She immediately left the Brit's side and ran to where Otoya and Hiori were.

"Little brats..." Adam mumbled as he glared at the two boys. Once Hiori grabbed (Y/n)'s wrist, Adam's anger was solely directed at the boy.

"Yes. But, we need your help there. Please." Hiori pleaded and started dragging her away.

"A-alright. Sorry, Blake-san, I will talk with you later." She said and sent the man a short wave before running towards the medic room.

Otoya stayed behind as Adam and him had a short glare match.

"Stay away from our manager."

"And what makes you think I would listen to you?" Adam asked, annoyed with the kids more and more.

"Just stay away." Otoya says in annoyance, knowing he can't really stop two adults from interacting.

'Brats! She was about to say yes to a date!' Adam gritted his teeth, but part of him was happy to know he had a chance. Next time he will make sure nobody interrupts them.

"So, what have you been up to? I didn't hear from you in a while." Luna asked as both him and (Y/n) sat in the dining hall while eating lunch.

"Nothing much, the usual. Making sure Anri and Ego-san don't kill each other, making sure the boys are happy, and all that. Just boring things." (Y/n) said honestly.

"What about you? You looked pretty exhausted during your last game."

Luna blushed a little when he noticed the worried look on her face, and quickly smiled while shaking his head.

"I was a little tired, but I am fine now. No need to worry."

(Y/n) sighed a little in relief before Luna spoke up again.

"But, how have you personally been? You have only been telling me how the rest are doing and what you did for them."

"Hmm? Well, I don't have much me-time these days."

"Why?" Luna asked in worry as (Y/n) drank her water.

"Consequences of managing a team like Blue lock." She laughed a little, hoping to humor the man, but his frown only deepened.

"Well, that's no good. Tell you what, how about you take a day off and we go out to Tokyo. I heard the Tokyo tower is romantic at night."

The woman blinked at the man as he softly grabbed her hand.

"I...." She looked at him in surprise as Luna smiled back at her.

'Why does he want to go with me?'

"Well-"

"(Y/n)-san! I need your help with my laces!"

"I need to talk with you about something! It's urgent!"

"I accidentally tripped and broke something!"

Luna groaned as (Y/n) turned to look at Isagi, Chigiri, and Bachira who yelled out for her and ran to her table. Meanwhile, Rin silently trailed after them.

"What? Are you hurt, Bachira?" (Y/n) asked in worry as Luna's hand tightened around hers. The three boys spoke up quickly in order for Luna not to get her attention again.

"How about you let go of her hand?" Rin said as teh Spaniard looked up at him.

"Shouldn't you rather figure out your issues with your brother?" The man smirked as he noticed the irked look on Rin. The boy did say something back, but Luna paid no mind to him as he looked back at (Y/n), who was too occupied with Bachira's ranting.

"Wooow. I didn't know you were that strong." (Y/n) clapped as she stared at Silva carrying a few boxes she originally planned to. The Brazilian used this as a perfect opportunity to both talk to her, and show off his own strength to her. Safe to say, he did succeed in that, seeing the awestruck look on her face did fill the man with a pride.

"This is a child's play for me. I carried heavier things. Where did you need this?"

Silva asked as (Y/n) followed after him.

"The storage room. It's just some extra stuff I keep to the side in case someone needs them." (Y/n) explained to the man who just nodded along as she spoke.

"By the way, how was your flight to Japan? No issues?" The woman asked as they walked down the hallway.

"It was ok. Nothing notably off, the turbulence was stronger than last time, tho."

Silva explained as (Y/n) looked at him in worry.

"At least you came here safe. I was never really on a plane, so I wouldn't know, but I guess it was scary." She said as the man smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"You get used to it eventually. But, enough about that. I saw there is a festival in Tokyo in a few days."

"Yeah, the Chichibu night! It's a really fun evening. Did you plan on going there?" (Y/n) questioned as the man looked at her nervously.

"Yes, and I was thinking of bringing a companion along." Silva said while looking at her. He thought she might catch on the drift that way, but he would learn to be more direct with her after today.

"A companion? I am sure I can find you someone. Do you prefere models or?"

Silva stopped in his tracks and looked at her in disbelief.

'Is she blind? Why would I want a model when she is here?!'

"No, I would like to go with y-"

But, before he could continue, the two adults heard loud voices from down the hallway.

"Yukimiya? Karasu? What happened?"

(Y/n) asked in worry as the two ran up to her, earning annoyed looks from Silva.

"We need extra towels and can't find them."

"We need your help."

The two said while pulling her away.

"Hey, hold up there. Don't drag a lady around like that." Silva put the boxes away and quickly walked after them, looking more pissed off than ever.

'Those kids are a pain in the neck!'

"Why did Cavasoz-san go into the manager's office?" Tokimitsu asked in worry as Aryu played with his hair and Niko glared at the door.

"How am I supposed to know, but we need to get (Y/n)-san's attention away from that guy." Aryu said as Tokimitsu sent him a quizzical look.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Niko asked, not noticing the two taller boys staring at him.

"You think what I am thinking?" Tokimitsu asked Aryu, who slowly nodded his head.

"Yes."

"You still didn't visit Harajuku?" (Y/n) looked at Pablo in surprise.

"No. I wanted to, but it wasn't fun to go there alone." The Argentinian said as he sat on the couch in the woman's office while she was looking through some papers.

"Didn't the other guys want to visit? It looked like they were excited to see Tokyo after the last game." (Y/n) raised an eyebrow as she looked at Pablo.

"Beats me. It was kind of boring in the hotel, so maybe that influenced us?"

"Bored? I was sure that was one of the best rated ones in Tokyo." (Y/n) said, surprised that they thought it was bored.

'You weren't there! Of course it would be boring!' Pablo thought to himself as he got up and walked to her desk.

"Anyway, enough about them. I heard from the others you were working day and night, and didn't go out much?"

"Hmm? Well, not more than usual. It is stressful, but I like this job." She smiled at him, causing the Argentinian to blush a little.

"Still, you need a break! And I would suggest you go with me-"

Before Pablo could say anything else, there was a knock at the door.

"Yes? Come in." (Y/n) called out in confusion as Pablo groaned to himself.

'Couldn't it wait?!'

The woman's confused expression turned into an excited on as Niko walked in with a pair of cat ears on his head.

"I-I found this..." The boy blushed as he cursed the two other boys in his head.

"So cute!! Niko! That's adorable!!"

Pablo watched in disbelief as she ran over to Niko and hugged the boy.

"W-wait. I can be cute too." He called out and quickly ran to her side as he glared at Niko.

'No way will he outshine me when it comes to cuteness in front of (Y/n)!'

The last threat the boys didn't plan on was Loki. Now, while the boy had no romantic interests in her, he did see the woman as an older sister, and thus would sometimes ask for her attention or advice. Just like right now. He just recently came to Japan and seemed to have eaten something bad on the plane. (Y/n) had brought him to the medic room and went through the cupboards to look for some medicine.

"Maybe it was the meat? Or I just don't do well eating while on the plane." The French boy said as he watched her.

"Maybe. And you didn't have these issues last time you visited us?" (Y/n) asked again as she looked back at the boy, who shook his head.

"No. Everything was fine the last time I was here."

"Strange. I will see that a doctor checks you out after this-"

Before she could finish the sentence, the door swung open and both looked in a startled manner at Gagamaru, Nagi, and Reo.

"What happened?"

"I stubbed my toe!"

"I fell of my bed. Can you see if I am ok?"

"And I think I am dying. Please help!"

(Y/n) looked at the three in confusion as they bombarded her with words while Loki was silently chuckling at them.

[imaginesforeons]

ohhh a crumb of yandere gojo PLEASE 😩

Omg so sorry for disappearing. I suddenly had an onset of health problems that got so bad I even had to go into emergency surgery. I'm better now though! Requests for my page are now CLOSED, though I will be answering all the people who already asked me when they were open. But no guarantees with how fast lmao.

One more thing, what do you guys think about me taking commissions? I feel like I'd be able to, and there's enough stuff on my page for people to know what they'd be getting. Let me know in the comments or DM me.

Yandere!Gojo x Reader with an unknown, powerful jujutsu

~Something snaps inside you, primal and unknown. Unfortunately, you aren't the only one that witnesses this~

CW: Past kidnapping. Yandere Gojo, but he's actually super chill compared to his usual self lmao.

WC: 1149

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

“C’mon, just a little bit. You can trust me, can’t you?”

A muscled arm wrapped around your waist, dragging your stiffening body closer. Blue eyes peered at you from over black sunglasses, shining with mirth.

“I really can’t do it, Gojo, I swear. Please, just let me go.”

You leaned as far away from him as possible, which, from your position on the couch, wasn’t very far at all. The man had you literally and metaphorically cornered, squished into the corner of the sofa with his hand firmly on your hip. You tried to ignore his fingers, idly tapping an unknown rhythm against your skin, but you felt each digit like a brand. Squirming, you tried to edge away, just a few inches so you weren’t pressed flush against his side. Gojo only grinned, flashing impossibly white teeth at you as his hand flexed, pulling you in until you were practically in his lap. You froze.

His smile only grew bigger. “I think we both know that’s a lie. Hell, the missing person case speaks for itself.”

You felt your stomach drop. The missing person case. The missing person case you had caused. Just yesterday, your life had been achingly normal, something you now craved. It was your day off, and you decided to use the time to catch up on errands. When it happened, you were at a bank depositing a check when, out of nowhere, a creature had risen smoothly out of the ground like it was water, not the rock solid masonry that the bank was made of. You had only gaped uselessly, staring at the thing that had too many limbs and eyes that were more human than beast as it loomed over you. No one else seemed to notice, except for a single man. He was nondescript, with dark hair, plain features, and a grey suit that made his complexion more sallow than it really was. You thought he was an employee. Thought.

When he saw you staring, he snarled a short command at the monster, then he and it both dove at you. That was when everything broke out into pandemonium. All at once, an alarm was set off, people started screaming, and the skylight above you and the man shattered, raining stained glass down around you and your attackers. You thought it was a robbery. If only it was that simple.

Screaming, all you could do was throw your arms up and wait for impact, but nothing came. Finally, you dared to lower your arms, only to be met with a man with shockingly white hair. Amongst all the panicking bankers and customers, he was the eye of the storm; calm, still. Then, slowly, he pulled up part of the bandages covering his eyes, revealing one. When you saw it, you gasped. He grinned at your reaction, a boyish type of smile that in any other situation would have made your heart flutter, but the hunger behind it instead made your stomach drop.

Before you could blink, he had you wrapped in his arms, their strength like that of a steel trap. The last thing you heard before everything went black was, you would later find out, his voice.

“Well, isn’t this interesting?”

You had woken up in those same arms, and when you realized you started to cry, inconsolable even as your kidnapper gently shushed you.

You whimpered at the memory, at the thought of the man at the bank who, yes, may have tried to attack you, but he was still a person. He was still missing. Missing because of you, if Gojo was to be believed.

“I- I didn’t mean to,” you stuttered. “I had never even met him before then. Why would I want to hurt-”

“Sato Isamo,” Gojo interrupted, waving his hand. “The salaryman turned curse-user after power was promised to him, yada yada. Same old shit. He doesn’t matter, I would’ve offed him if you hadn’t gotten to him first-” you felt your stomach drop at such deadly words said so casually “-what really matters is you.”

Suddenly, his hands were holding your face, so big that they almost wrapped around the entirety of your skull. His eyes bore into yours, and even though every instinct in you screamed to look away, you couldn’t, prey caught in the stare of the predator.

“You did something amazing back there.” Gojo’s eyes were glowing, lit by something deep and primal inside him. “Not even I can disappear a man in the blink of an eye without any effort, but you did. You wiped him off the face of the fuckin’ earth to somewhere even my six eyes can’t see, and I want to see you do it again.”

A thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek. It took all you had not to shiver.

“I never thought I was a patient man until I saw you. We’ll wait as long as it takes, but you’ll never escape me until I get to see your technique again.”

He was insane, you thought. Nothing else could explain the glazed look on his face or the way his body trembled finely against yours. This man was more dangerous to you than that monster at the bank ever was.

“And after that you’ll let me go?” you asked. Begged was more accurate, with the way your voice cracked over the last word.

For just a split second, his eyes changed, shifting from blue summer sky to deep ocean depths. “We’ll see,” was all he said, then his eyes flickered back to their radiant glow. “But until then, I’m not letting you out of my sight. We’ll go to the Asahikawa estate, you’ll love it.”

For a moment, you thought your hearing had failed you. “W-what,” you were barely able to stammer out. “But that’s miles away. I have a job here. A family.”

Gojo only shrugged. “People like them don’t matter. You’re better off sticking with your own kind.” He winked down at you. “Like me, for example.”

You could only stare at him, mouth agape. Gojo only smiled back at you, and it was all you could do not to scream. Instead, you did the next best thing, diving wildly from his grasp. Behind you, you heard a delighted laugh before arms that were already starting to feel familiar wrapped around your waist.

You shrieked, thrashing, but all Gojo did was scoop you up, holding you to his chest like some sort of disobedient pet. Nothing you did broke his hold, so finally, after fighting out all your energy, you could only slump against him in a panting, sweaty mess. The white haired man smiled down at you, and that was when you finally broke, tears leaking from your eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“We’ll figure this out, no matter how long it takes,” he said. “Together.”

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 14 - Secrets and Sapphires

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Maris’ anger had not diminished in your absence, and she was certainly glad of the thunderous scolding you received from your father.

His finger pointing, his voice booming so loudly you imagine half the keep can hear it.

Stupid, careless, girl.

He was right, you had been careless. You’d lost yourself in Aemond’s company and what could be more careless than that?  

Except, that wasn’t why he was angry. You'd gone missing for hours and your mothers' cheeks were still stained with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it, “I won’t let it happen again.” 

“You shouldn’t even let her join us in the hall tonight!” Maris pipes in when the shouting has dwindled down to a halt, her eyes narrowed and vengeful.  

But her attempt at siding with your father is soon thwarted because Borros Baratheon doles out the punishments, not his daughters, and a fresh wave of anger washes over him. 

“Quiet girl!” he snaps, before returning his attention back to you, his voice booming again, “you’ll get changed and you’ll do it quickly or so help me!”  

You don't need to be told twice, and rush to your room, pulling a yellow gown from your armoire before thinking better of it.  

Maris already thought you were trying to steal Aemond and, in her mind, yellow was the colour to do it in. So, you reach for the sapphire blue, making tonight its third outing of the summer and perhaps its final one too.   

You’re still fiddling with the tiny buttons when Cassandra sneaks into your room with a pitying look.  

She sits patiently on the bed, waiting for you to finish before picking up your brush and nudging you onto the stool next to your vanity. 

“We can’t have you looking like this,” she says, her voice cheerful as she gently pulls the brush through all the knots which had formed in the rain. 

Trying not to wince each time she hits a snag, you sit quietly, miserably , worrying the skirt of your dress and wishing your father had forced you to stay behind.  

You're still shaken from the way his voice had boomed in your ears, and you’d rather curl up in a ball and cry, instead of facing an evening of polite conversation and Maris’ seemingly endless supply of anger.  

“She’ll get over it,” Cassandra says, and you know she’s right but that doesn’t make it any easier. If you could skip forward to a place where Maris didn’t hate you, you would, but there was no quick fix, only time.  

“And...” she begins, waiting for you to meet her eye in the mirror, “ I think we both know she never had a chance.”  

Heart suddenly in your throat, you look at your hands, hoping to hide any of the thoughts which may have escaped onto your face.  

But Cassandra doesn’t need any confirmation of what she already knows to be true. 

“I do not believe I’ve ever seen Prince Aemond look at Maris the way he looks at you,” she says, and you stiffen, it was exactly what the Queen had said at the tourney. 

“If you knew why , you would be ashamed to have me as your sister.” 

You look up from your hands just in time to see Cassandra’s eyes widen with horror, the brush stopping its progress.  

“Do not tell me you have given him your virtue?”   

“No! ” you say quickly, surprised by her suggestion.  

Though, for one brief moment, you can’t help but imagine what that would be like.  

High Valyrian rolling from his tongue, long fingers wrapping around your waist instead of books. Would his kiss be gentle, hesitant even? Just a soft, momentary press of lips to test your willing.  

Or would it be certain? Urgent? Would he push you up against the bookcases, hard and feverish, his lips devouring yours before finding the racing pulse at your neck, his hands moving from your waist, hitching up the skirts of your dress and-  

Clearing your throat, you banish the thought away, but not quickly enough. Your cheeks are more than a little flushed when you admit, “I met him before we came to court.”  

“Where ?” 

“On the beach below the keep.”  

She laughs, her brow knitted with confusion, “why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“Because I was alone… and I was…” you hold your tongue, could you really tell her the truth?  

“I was swimming ,” you whisper, and it feels both cathartic and terrifying at the same time.  

Cassandra’s fingers fall from your hair altogether and you dare not look at her in the mirror. Instead, you turn to meet her, face to face, your heart pounding harder than before, your palms slick with sickening nerves. 

Yet, instead of shame you find anger, an emotion which barely ever registers on her face, and her voice is low, tense .  

“Did he hurt you?” she demands in a hushed whisper which is no less powerful than your fathers bellowing. 

“No ,” you gasp, knowing precisely what she is thinking as you reach to touch her arm and reassure her, “he only looked, but he has teased me about it all summer.” 

She laughs then, relieved , her hands returning to your hair. “No wonder he looks at you like that .” 

“Like what?” 

“Like he is constantly on the brink of kissing you.” 

Your cheeks flush yet again, but Cassandra’s tone hardens, scolding you. “You know you really should have told me this months ago. And Maris. How could she ever stand a chance when Prince Aemond had already fallen in love with you?” 

“He loves tormenting me, nothing more.”  

“If you say so,” Cassandra teases before shaking her head, “I still cannot believe you thought you could keep this a secret. Heavens, you can be so wilful sometimes.” 

“But you’ll promise not to tell anyone?” you say, desperately, and by ‘anyone’, you mean Maris. 

“We are sisters, your secrets are mine to keep, not to share,” she reassures, sliding the last pin into your hair and you relax, turning on the stool to hug her tightly.  

It was strange, but despite all your torment, you hadn’t realised just how much you’d needed such comfort until her arms were wrapping around your shoulders and she was kissing the top of your head.  

It was no secret that you and Cassandra had never been as close as you and Maris, who were like partners in crime compared to your perfect, angelic, older sister. But her embrace is so steadfast, that it seems impossible to imagine you could have any better friend or sister than her. 

“You know...” she starts, as you pull away from the embrace, “we never did get to the bottom of who sent us these gowns...” 

You look down at your dress, the sapphire bodice glimmering with gems, and she was right. After trying to thank Tyland Lannister, you hadn’t really wanted to think who could have bought them. Or why. 

“Helaena told me that when Aemond lost his eye, they offered to replace it with gold,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he chose a sapphire instead.” 

“A sapphire?” you choke, picturing the way it might glitter beneath the patch across his eye. So beautiful, so radiant.  Just like your gown.  

Then you think of the times you’d wore the dress in front of him and feel as though you might be sick. From nerves, from anger, from the sheer audacity of the knowing smiles you’d seen on his face each time. 

Were you really wearing something he’d picked out?   

You didn’t want to believe it, but who else could afford such a thing?  

Who else would choose this exact shade of sapphire blue?  

Hurrying towards your armoire, you reach for the yellow gown once again but it's too late. Your father's voice is booming into your room and it's time to leave, whether you’re ready or not. 

Cursing the entire situation, you trail behind your family all the way to the hall, wondering how long it would take them to notice if you decided to slip away. If you hadn’t gone missing this afternoon, you would chance it, but you’re not sure you can withstand any more of your father's anger. 

Instead, you think, so what if Aemond chose your dress? It didn’t mean anything .  

Except, you can’t even hold that lie in your brain for more than a moment before it falls apart.  Because it did mean something. Everything he’d done meant something . 

He’d met you on the beach in spring and thought of you often enough to invite you here for summer, to choose the books on your nightstand, and purchase the most beautiful gown you’d ever seen, for no other purpose than to see you standing in a room wearing the exact shade of his eye.  

Yet, the same man who’d done all those things, had also stolen more than one look at your naked body, threatened all your suitors, toyed with Maris, told everyone you couldn’t dance, embarrassed you in front of his mother, and killed Ser Glover in cold blood. 

He was impulsive, arrogant and completely ignorant to anyone’s feelings but his own. You still hated him, a few hours in the library couldn’t change that.  

You could only pray that he would not be in the hall tonight because hating him and facing him were too very different things.  

Yet there he was. Across the room. A dark line of fine black leather, his eye meeting with yours, holding all your attention before it slowly sinks to your dress.  

The slightest twitch of a smile quivers at his lips, and you know, beyond any doubt, that he was the mysterious secret admirer who’d sent three gowns to the Baratheon sisters. One pink, one lilac and one sapphire blue. 

You swallow hard and he begins to move, abandoning the people he was in conversation with, his usual cocky gait carrying him quickly across the room and, more importantly, directly towards you.  

He’s already made it halfway before you jump into action. 

Seven hells!  

What was he thinking?  

He was Aemond Targaryen. When he walked, people watched.  

Maris watched.  

He couldn’t just walk right up to you like this. He wasn’t the kind of man who walked right up to anyone- unless he was threatening them.  

Breaking away from your family, you skirt around the edge of the room, and he changes direction. Another smile twitching at his lips, as though he’s enjoying the chase. But you’re not going far, just far enough so Maris cannot see past the crowds. 

You wait for Aemond by a thick stone column and, when he’s close enough, you push him behind it, so you can be hidden from all the prying eyes that might be watching.  

“We can find more privacy than this if you wish to have me alone, issa jorrāelagon,” he says, a devilish smirk now filling his cheeks entirely. 

You sigh sharply, “that is the last thing I want!”  

“Are you certain?” his gaze scrapes down, to where the tips of your fingers are still pressed against his chest, “then why are you pinning me against a wall?” 

Embarrassed , you snatch your hands away, knotting them behind your back, your heart thumping as he laughs, enjoying every ounce of your torment as per usual. 

Then you let out an exasperated sigh, wondering, yet again, how you’d spent so many hours with this man.  

“You cannot just walk right up to me in front of the entire room,” you warn and, though a small frown creases into his brow, amusement still holds sway over his face.  

“How else am I to ask you to dance?”  

“You cannot!” you exclaim tartly, appalled to think that was what he was planning on doing. “You cannot even speak to me in front of them. I forbid it .” 

“You forbid your prince?” 

“Yes , Maris hates me enough as it is and, if you consider yourself my friend , you will do no more harm between us.” 

At that, you try to leave, feeling you have already spent far too long with the most conspicuous man in the room, but his hand slides to your waist, holding you still. 

“Do you consider yourself my friend?” he asks, and you cannot think of anything more dangerous than friendship with a dragon, but you’d say anything to placate him. 

“We can be friends if you stay away from me.”  

He snorts, “that's a strange recipe for friendship, would you not say?” 

“Not if the friendship is already strange,” you retort before pulling away from his grasp and heading straight towards your family, only to be intercepted by Lord Boremund before you can even make it five paces. 

“Little cousin,” he says, taking your hand, “please allow me the honour of your first dance this evening.” 

You accept, glad to be away from Maris for as long as possible and surprised when Ser Robin asks for your next dance, then Lord Thorne for your third.  

It seemed Aemond had not only allowed Tyland Lannister to resume the pursuit of your hand, but half of court too. Yet, like Tyland Lannister, it only made these men seem both spineless and fickle. 

Were they all afraid of a dragon?   

So, instead of feeling pleased to be dancing with them, you find yourself feeling increasingly annoyed, and you’re not the only one. 

Throughout every turn you make around the floor, you see Aemond pacing the edges like a caged animal and three dances is all it takes before he breaks. 

He strides fast, unconcerned by the movement swirling to avoid him, and you watch his every step with both heart pounding surprise and gut-wrenching exasperation, as he sweeps into Lord Thorne’s place and steals your hand without a single word to the other man.  

“What are you doing?” You hiss under your breath, extremely conscious of the scene he is creating.  

“It seems I cannot be your friend, ” he retorts, but you hardly hear him, you’re too busy looking around. Pleased to see that people are not pointing or staring, and the dance is continuing as though nothing is amiss.  

It’s only Lord Thorne who looks out of place, his cheeks flushed with anger, his steps faltering as he tries to move around the other couples.  

At this point, you think it might actually draw more attention if you stop dancing, but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about the situation. You’re so mad at Aemond, you could stamp on his stupid foot. 

“You could have at least waited for the next dance,” you scold, knowing you would have rejected his offer, if he had actually asked.  

“I want all your dances, including this one,” he says, leading you into a turn and when you’re facing him again, you glare, ensuring he knows that, despite your current actions, you’re still very much annoyed. 

“And you think nothing of what I want?” you say. It was not half an hour since you’d told him not to speak with you, let alone dance with you. Yet here you were, in his arms. 

“Would you rather dance with them instead of me ?” 

Words stick on your tongue, and you're glad for another turn, so you can think of an answer, because you can’t exactly tell him ‘no’ .  

You wouldn’t rather dance with them.  

Lord Boremund was your cousin, Ser Robin was far too tall, and Lord Thorne was perfectly fine and perfectly handsome, except his touch did not set your skin ablaze as Aemond’s did.  

You face him again, and you must say something, so you think of propriety and all the rules which had been drummed into your head since you were old enough to walk. “As an unmarried lady, I shall not be obliged to give special treatment to anyone, even his grace.” 

“Then marry me.” 

What?  

You’re so surprised, you can’t help but laugh, your mind spinning, your cheeks heating beyond reason. “ Be serious, ” you say, almost choking on the words as they splutter from your lips. 

“I am,” he replies with a low voice, and he isn’t joking. He’s waiting, wanting, but you cannot possibly give him the answer he craves. 

You cannot even speak as he draws you in, holding you far closer than any man should in a room full of people. One hand on your lower back, the other brushing the length of your arm before he curls his fingers into yours.  

If there had been butterflies in the library, there are dragons now. Hatching carelessly in the pit of your stomach. Hot and dangerous, long wings reaching to the very tips of your toes until you feel flimsy in his sturdy embrace. 

You open your mouth, but there are no words, and what’s left is far worse than any words could ever be. You hate the sound which pants breathlessly from your lips, soft, submissive , welcoming his advances wholeheartedly.  

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were enjoying this. But you’re not. You don’t want him. Not as a friend, not as a husband.  

Yet your eyes still graze his lips, and you find yourself wondering, for the second time in a single evening, what it would be like to be kissed by him. 

"Marry me, Lady Baratheon,” he says again, and you both miss a step in the dance, almost colliding with another couple, before you regain control of your senses and wedge your free hand between your chest and his. 

Gods. You cannot meet his eye.  

“You do not dance well enough for me to condemn myself to marriage,” you whisper, your voice strained, before you force another laugh to break the tension. 

If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it, his tone is still light, playful even. “Is it marriage you disapprove of, or your prince?”  

You breathe out another shaky breath, but your voice is a little stronger when you say, “I do not disapprove of marriage. ” Only dragons.  

Aemond’s huff of amusement is light, meant only for your ears, and you’re grateful when the dance requires you to break from his arms and weave between the other partners. 

Inhaling a lung full of air, you’re certain not to let him reel you in again. Instead, you hold yourself rigid, your palm pressed against his chest to prevent any further encroachment into the battlements you’re trying desperately to defend. 

“Now behave yourself or I shall be forced to return to my room, for yet another evening,” you warn, daring to meet his eye. 

“Good ,” he smiles triumphantly, seeming to enjoy the way you’re struggling to hold him at bay, “I shall meet you there.” 

“With the guard outside the door?” you say hotly, imagining the look on Ser Maurin’s face if Aemond tried to waltz into your room without a chaperone. 

He leans in harder, forcing your arm to cave against his strength, “I shall climb in through the window.” 

When you turn again, you jab his rib, not too hard but hard enough to make him wince and remind him how difficult climbing would be with such an injury, “I think not , and in any case, I shall bolt it to be certain.” 

He chuckles and, though you’re not looking at him, you can picture just how smug his smile must be as he says, “you imagine a bolt across a window could stop me?” 

“No ,” you glance back to meet his eye, “but I’d hope his grace would not force himself into someone’s company if they had asked him to stop .” 

The music finishes before he can reply, and all the other couples break away with bows and curtsies to find someone new. 

But not you and Aemond. Aemond wants all your dances, and he does not relinquish control of your hand despite your efforts. He holds it tight, possessive, and you can feel as people begin to stare.  

“I shall scream if you do not let me go this instant,” you hiss under your breath, trying to remain composed. 

His jaw tightens, frustration seeming to cling to every muscle in his body just as he loosens his grip, sliding his hand behind his back so his stance is as formal as it is unyielding. 

When you turn to leave, you notice Maris who’s been staring at the whole scene with daggers instead of eyes.  

“If you truly care about me at all,” you begin, purposely avoiding his gaze, “you will ask someone else to dance this instant or I fear Maris will never forgive me.” 

Aemond snorts, “when you are here and she is in Storms End, it will not matter what she thinks.” 

“It matters to me!” you say, a little too loudly, but you’re so painfully annoyed with him that you can hardly be expected to contain your temper, “not that you seem to think of anything but your own selfish desires.” 

When you walk away, you feel him step to follow before he hesitates and turns on his heel to walk in the opposite direction.  

Not that you dare to look back or feel any relief that he has not followed you, you’re too anxious for that.  

Instead, you make it to where your sisters are standing with Belis, and Maris laughs as she says, “it seems Prince Aemond is pitying all the wallflowers with a dance this evening.” 

Then you do look at him and, just as you’d asked, he’s escorting another to the floor. Lady Staunten, who’d not danced all summer and seemed more terrified than pleased to be in his company. 

“Shall we take a turn of the room?” Cassandra offers with a warm smile and you’re grateful for another opportunity to leave Maris’ bad mood behind. 

“Did you ask him about the dress?” she says, when you are far enough away from the others and, quite honestly, you’d forgotten about the dress altogether.  

But you don’t say that, or anything, you’re too distracted, craning your neck to watch Aemond as he moves methodically across the floor, as though the dance holds no joy, only steps.  

Did he really just ask you to marry him?  

It was such a surprise, it felt like you could have imagined the whole thing. In fact, you wish you had imagined it. Then you wouldn’t have to think about it, and you were quite certain you could think of little else. 

It wasn’t every day a man asked you such a question- o r ever. But you couldn’t be entirely sure of Aemond’s motives. Did he truly want marriage and all that it entailed, or was it just another hot-headed impulse?  

Though you suppose none of that really mattered, since there were no circumstances in which you would agree to be his wife. Even if he wasn’t the most arrogant man in the world, he was still a Targaryen, and they were a strange family with even stranger proclivities.  

Yet, by the time you’ve walked an entire circle of the room, he’s asking another wallflower to dance, and you feel the unmistakable claw of envy, scratching at your skin. 

You turn away, wanting to forget about him but there was really no forgetting Aemond Targaryen. 

There wasn’t even safety in the bosom of your family. There was Alicent, talking to your mother with a coy smile and, for one heart stopping moment, you wonder if she knows . If they both know. 

Because marriage would not be a choice if your mother was involved. There would be no question about it, you’d be given to the crown without a single thought for your wishes, and that would be that .  

“Ah, Lady Baratheon,” Alicent says, noticing the way you’re lingering in her periphery.  

You curtsy politely, heart pounding as she waves her hand to beckon you closer.   

“We were just discussing how pleasant it would be to enjoy the last days of summer with a picnic in the Kingswood. Do you ride?”  

“Yes ." You even enjoyed it under usual circumstances.  

"Good,” she laughs, the curls in her hair bouncing with the movement, “there is not much room in the wheelhouse for so many ladies and the fresh air will give you vigour.”  

You start, thinking your mother might have something to say about the suggestion but she’s nodding along with the Queen. “You mean for me to ride all the way to the Kingswood?” you confirm, thinking it an unlikely ask for a high borne lady. 

“I’m sure one of the men will keep you company,” Alicent says as though it's the most natural thing in the world. But what she means is, Aemond will keep you company . 

Without thinking, you turn to look at him, annoyed that you cannot seem to retain autonomy over your own gaze, which seems intent to seek him out despite your wishes. 

When you turn back to look at Alicent, her smile reminds you so much of her son that you almost tell her to hell with the Kingswood and to hell with Aemond. But you’re sure your mother would have some choice words if you humiliated her in front of the Queen. 

So, you return her smile, thanking The Seven that Alicent has no idea her son just asked you to marry him. But she’s expecting it, you can see it on her face.  

What had Aemond said in the library? 

That she would finally think he was consenting to giving her a grandchild. Well, you aren’t consenting. As far as you were concerned, you had two older sisters and it was only proper that they should marry first. 

~~~

Thank you for reading!

[shaisuki]

❝ LOVEFOOL. ❞

ꙮ FEATURING. BACHIRA MEGURU

CONTENT WARNINGS. fluff + smut + exhibitionism + cunnilingus + fellatio + tit-sucking + masturbation + perv bachira.

NOTES. a indulgent fluff and smut to my mootie-patotie @blooming-aster , spending the night thirsting over this cutie we call bachira meguru.

SYNOPSIS. everyone's a fool and bachira's no exception.

bestfriend! bachira who's been your friend your whole childhood. always playing in the fields or just goofing around and messing with him. hide and seek in his mother's studio.

bestfriend! bachira who always squish your chubby cheeks. fascinated by the plumpness and the bounciness of it. considers it as one of world's mysteries on why is it so soft and squishy.

bestfriend! bachira who loves to blow raspberries to you. squishes your cheeks and blows. laying on your stomach, his mouth on your soft belly. nibbles the skin there before blowing raspberries. you're always covered in his saliva he's not sorry.

bestfriend! bachira who stares at you with his big, round, golden honey eyes. you can't help but to shy away from his gaze and it's so intense. you'll melt in the spot if you stare longer but bachira continues so, he just loves seeing you flustered and from the way you bit your lip. his brain overrides.

bestfriend! bachira who's obsessed by your plump body. he forgets to speak at times when he presses his lean body to yours and he's like a cat when he gets a hold of you. massaging and kneading your body like dough. watch the supple flesh spills in his hands and pops a boner out of the blue. can you blame him though? he's that down bad to you.

bestfriend! bachira isn't ashamed to be naked in front of you. you know you two hanging out in his room and he just pops out with nothing. he just laughs when he saw the horror in your face when you've seen him naked. can't miss your gaze going back and forth to him and he only winks at you. it's fine to stare but it's wrong but....

bestfriend! bachira who always make you feel good about yourself that being fat isn't wrong and it's one of the reasons why he loves you. makes you feel loved and suffocates you with his hugs. traps you with his body and tickles you until you're crying and begging to stop cause you're going to pee but still... he loves hearing you laugh. it sounds music to his hears and your smile it's so stunning that it'll blind him but who cares. he's getting that smile from you.

bestfriend! bachira who jumps you everytime he had the chance. after his games, you would be looking for him and wonders where he went but it's too late before you realize you're on the ground with him above you. he stares at you and pinches your cheeks. he go this predatory gaze though like he's going to eat you alive and he will, if given the chance.

bestfriend! bachira who can't stop daydreaming about you. he thinks about you all the time from the way you smile, laugh, breathe, existing.

bestfriend! bachira who loves you. you really did stick like him all this time and never ever doubt him and accepted him for what he is. you didn't scold him for the way how he acts and you always tell him that you love that side of him. your bestfriend who have nothing but love and adoration for you.

bestfriend! bachira who jerks at the thought of you. he's insatiable and he can't hide his perviness when you're around sometimes. he's leaning on the wall. biting the hem of his shirt, pants lowered and his hand on his aching cock. chants your name while he fisting his cock up and down. it only gets difficult for him and moans. he also done it when your back turned against him and he's shameless about it. he's huffing and puffing after he cums, watch his shame drips out of his fingers and the splatter on his abdomen. hoping he could spread it to you, some day.

bestfriend! bachira who kisses you breathless when you tell him, you love him too. head in cloud nine while he sucks your tongue in his. exploring every inch of your mouth and swirls at them. loves your eyes getting teary from his kisses. you both be panting and when you get back each other's breath he's back at you again. won't budge if you push him.

bestfriend! bachira sucks at your tits slowly. bites your nipples between his teeth and nibbles on them. he could be such a tease when sucking your teeth. tugs at them just enough for you and him to be pleasurable. doesn't matter if they're small or big. he'll putting that in his mouth. bonus if you run your fingers through his hair, he'll melt while he sucks in your tits. occasionally falling asleep when he's sucking your tits. his drool dripping at the corners of his mouth, surrounding your breasts with it.

bestfriend! bachira who eats you out like there's no tomorrow. you in his room, legs spread, your face in his pillow. muffling the moans when his tongue make wonders in your fat pussy. holding your thighs in his grip that it's impossible to escape him. tongue deep in your hole while he wiggles his tongue inside. leaving your thighs trembling from it. toes curling. catches every drop of your cum leaving in your hole. he just loves the taste of it while his nose nudges your clit. drowned in your taste and slick. squirt in his face if you can, he loves it.

bestfriend! bachira who gets whiny when you suck his cock. his cheeks heavy with red while you suck him. your cheeks hollowing out, tongue swirling on his tip and licking on his slit. holds your cheeks with both of his palm and praises you for being so good to him. jerking what's left of his length and he's a goner. loves to cum in your face. turns him on when you lick it off him.

bestfriend! bachira takes his time slow and nice when he's fucking you. he's a fucking tease. you need to beg and cry just for him to fuck you for real. watches as your tummy jiggles and thighs ripple from the impact. sinks his fingers in the plushness of your hips and just pounds into you. kisses you to make it better.

bestfriend! bachira loves fucking you in public. his fingers fucks into your hole slowly while he hugs you from behind, be it in the schoolyard, in the park while you date. kissing your cheeks while he tells you're being a good girl for him. he also loves getting sucked off. behind in the soccer field, in public restrooms or anywhere. loves it with the risk of being caught. folded in half in some empty classroom. your back in the teacher's table while he's grinning like a madman. the slap of skin echoing throughout the room.

bestfriend! bachira loves you so so much. he will give you the world if he had to just to prove just much how mean to him. whispers sweet things in your ear and hugs you everytime. he couldn't wish for more but just you his side.

he's a big baby and he knows it very much who want and needed you to be by his side always. just loves you very much and you love him. two opposites that attract each other to the end. smitten with each other and just can't live without the other. bachira meguru who loves his chubby s/o very much that he'll do everything to make you happy.