#i didn't really know what to do with this it just Came To Me. a scene revealed by prophetic Light.

[jjjjisun]

My Playmate, My Sister

Hanni X Male Reader | 8566 words

TW: Incest

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I'll be honest, growing up with a sister like mine was no cakewalk. It was abundantly clear that my sister, Hanni, was destined for some form of modeling from the moment she started developing her killer body in her early years. All throughout high school she had the attention and longing gazes of every boy, man and even some women there. As I went through my freshman year, lusting after any bit of female I could grasp, I was constantly teased about my senior sister's looks and how much every one of my friends would love to "bang her."

Now I won't lie and say I didn't notice; after all, I was in the peak of my sexual desires too. However, my thoughts never strayed beyond the occasional hope to see her coming out of the shower or undressing in her room. I did get a peek every once in a while, but it was all innocent and never got out of hand. Luckily for me, Hanni was incredibly wholesome and modest about her looks, having a few lucky boyfriends here and there but largely displaying her beauty in tolerable amounts. So even though I had to stare down or ignore someone for the occasional comment about Hanni's "hot ass and tits," I never felt embarrassed by any of her actions.

I suppose I should probably tell you what she really looks like. Aside from a body that looks to be sculpted from marble, she is about 5'3" weighing just over 100 lbs. She has 24" waist and from inspecting some of her more seductive lacey bras in the laundry is done I know her breasts measured a full 32C which I wanted nothing more than to at least any chance I could get. She has the most gorgeous eyes, more green than hazel, framed by a cute, freckled face and tiny chin. To top it all off she has the perfect shade of blonde hair with dark streaks, which she wears in a variety of styles mostly with long bangs swept across her face.

Unfortunately, in high school I was a shrimpy little kid, never really breaking 130 lbs. until my senior year, when I finally came into my own. So when Hanni brought her usual slough of beautiful friends around, I was always just her little brother to them. It didn't matter to Hanni though, she was a bit nerdy like me and was always willing to play a video game or two or watch a movie late at night. She even got me with a few pretty girls if she knew their older sister or invited me to a party she could maneuver me around. She and I got along well, and even though we didn't interact much at school, we have always been good friends. After she went away to college across the country we separated a bit, but whenever we were both together we were thick as thieves.

But things changed for her early in Hanni's Junior year of college. As I walked through a convenience store on my way to the train home from school, I caught the top of a Playboy on the clearance rack behind the counter.

"I'll be damned if that doesn't look just like Hanni's face," I thought, not even realizing what that would mean if it really was her.

I asked for the copy, and after I showed my 19 year-old driver's license to the cashier and a sideways glance, he handed it to me. The photo on the cover, now many months old, was definitely in Playboy's usual style, airbrushed and photo-shopped to an almost unrecognizable degree, but I was 95% certain it was my sister. She was body-painted in the same colors as her college, Oregon State, and displaying what I had always known to be her fan-fucking-tastic form. I had no time to dwell on it, however, as my friends were all waiting so I shoved the Playboy into my backpack, paid and headed outside. I could barely focus on getting to the train and then home, and I don't think I said a word for the whole ride to my stop 30 minutes away.

I was in shock; "would Hanni really do that? She's always been adventurous but this is totally different," I thought.

When I finally got home I made for my room as fast as I could after a quick catch-up on the day with my Mom. As I pulled out the magazine and that's when I knew for sure, the beauty on the front cover was my sister. I thumbed through the pages and opened up to a her spread, not even thinking of the taboo implications. There she was, for all the world to see, and what a sight it was. She was going by the name Hanni Jean Underwood, obviously not the same as our family name. She was every guy's wet dream, clearly the best looking in the entire magazine, and she was my sister. I had to say it in my head a few times before it really set in, and after a cold shower I pulled out my phone and decided to text my sister.

"Hey Hanni, anything new," I wrote.

A few long minutes later, I received:

Hanni: "Nope, nothing really, I'm coming home Friday, a week early for summer, though!,"

Me: "That's cool, is something going on?"

Hanni: "Just felt a little overwhelmed is all."

Me: "Anything you want to talk about?"

Hanni: "We can catch up when I get home in a few days, okay?"

Me: "Sure, I miss you."

Hanni: "Miss you too!"

Soon enough it was Friday and I was nervous to see my big sister so soon after the recent development. I decided to do a little research online, and I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. A quick search of her name brought a whole bunch of results, at least three photo shoots - all stemming from the fact that she had apparently been crowned playmate of the month in July. I clicked on each gallery and scanned the page, seeing my sister laid out in a bunch of unbelievably sexy poses in all states of undress. I couldn't help it, the pictures were turning me on. I imagined her laid out on the window-bench in my room, looking at me straight in the eye as she pulled her top off, light glancing off her just like it did in the pictures. In my daze I didn't even hear the sound of my sister clamoring up the stairs, and then standing at my open door, seeing clearly what I had found.

"Okay, now I know what that text was about," she said as I clicked out of the browser at the speed of light. "No point in pretending now, we obviously are going to have to talk about this."

I just stared at her, she was different than the last I saw of her about 8 months before that. She was tan, her hair was better than it had ever looked, and she was in the best shape of her life. Even her clothes were thin and more revealing than ever, and after looking at the pictures on my computer, I realized I would never see her the same again.

"Come here and give me a hug first, I've had a long day of travelling," she said with fatigue thick in her voice.

At 19 years old, I was a full 6'0" and taking good care of my body had left me at 180 lbs. with a decent shot with women. I walked up, towering over her now, and she sank into my arms. Maybe it was what I had just seen on the computer, her clothes, or maybe it was something she was doing on purpose, but every part of her seemed to be pressed against me. I could feel the swell of those amazing breasts pressing against my chest, and my hands around her felt a toned backside most girls dreamed of.

"You've really grown," Hanni said, leaning most of her weight into me as she ran her hands innocently over me.

We hadn't seen much of each other the previous summer as she was working (at Hooter's I later learned) near her school in Oregon. That and the 8 or so months of school had given me plenty of time to grow, gaining an inch or two and a ton of manly muscle, if I didn't say so myself.

She moved away from me and looked into my eyes, saying "I need you to be calm about this, and to please not talk to Mom or Dad about it until I'm ready."

Still slightly aroused, I pulled myself together, "Okay, but you have to tell me all about it at least."

She eagerly agreed. We sat in my room, the loving brother half of me paying attention to her story of how she was found in a little Playboy talent search I had seen on the cover of that fateful magazine and how the feedback on her first photos was so good they decided to make her Playmate of the Month. The other half of me could not stop thinking of what I had seen and how this beautiful specimen in front of me could be seen by anybody in the heart-stopping galleries online, and that she was my sister!

"...so what do you say?" I snapped back in. After a short pause she knew I hadn't heard the question.

"I know this is a lot to handle, but let's just do our best to act normally around each other, okay Oppa?"

I agreed of course, and she hopped out of my room, her sculpted little butt swaying a bit as she turned and shot me a slightly mischievous smile.

All things considered, it was pretty normal around the house for the next few days. Our parents were rarely around, busy with their work or fairly hefty social lives, so I didn't have to deal with blurting out our secret to them. Hanni was out visiting friends during the weekend and I was studying for finals, albeit occasionally distracted by the fact that I had a Playboy Playmate living under the same roof. One night as I studied for a relatively easy exam the next day, Hanni came in and we talked for hours, her in tight white tank top and some tiny shorts, teasing me, maybe not so unintentionally, the entire night. She told me she had dropped out a few months ago because things were going so good with Playboy. Then she began to talk about her love life, something that had never really been off limits with us. It was obviously different now to talk about love and relationships and sex, for my mind kept straying to what a man might do with a girl like my sister in the privacy of their own room.

"I can't relate to any of the guys I am meeting, they all are kind of slimy and just want me because of my photos. I miss being with a guy who might actually care about me, and I miss the sex too," she said, blushing and looking down, missing the wide-eyed look I had on my face.

I told her about some of the girls I had dated, and even noted a hint of bitterness as I named a few girls she apparently didn't approve of. She curled up in my arms as we talked through all of the changes in both our lives and we fell asleep together, laying a comfortable distance apart.

When I awoke I felt like a million dollars, warm and cozy and ready to get up and shower before my test. Slowly waking I realized the coziness came from the gorgeous girl I was now tightly spooning and who had wrapped herself around one each of my arms and legs. It was both loving and arousing, and I realized my hand was gently resting in the middle of her perfect chest. I tried to slowly move out of position but she only latched onto me more, pushing my hand further into her soft, cotton-covered breasts. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I hardened fully and she would easily be able to feel it. That worry disappeared as she closed the space between us and nestled her tight bottom right over my shaft.

"Mmmmmh, good morning Oppa," she said softly, wiggling a bit as she turned her head to look at me.

It was excruciating to resist the urge to thrust forward between her cheeks. There was that suggestive smile again.

"I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time, I am so glad to finally be back," she whispered.

"How long will you be staying? Are you going to have to leave for any more shoots soon?" I asked quietly, trying not to move or address the fact that I was aroused by my sister.

"Actually, there is talk about making me Playmate of the Year, but I don't think I stack up to the competition. Either way, I have another shoot in a few weeks," Hanni said, turning to face me and finally relieving the pressure on my growing problem.

I paused, appearing deep in thought, "Yeah, I wouldn't count on it." I said sarcastically, making a funny face at her as her mouth dropped, insulted.

In mock anger she rolled on top of me, battering my chest with playful blows as she straddled me, both of us laughing as I grabbed her wrists with one arm and tickled her always sensitive sides with the other. As she twisted to avoid my prying fingers, her hips ground lightly down on my still slightly enlarged member, and I could hardly focus on the tickling for all of the pleasure it was causing me.

The wrestling intensified, both of us breathing hard between laughs and feeling her lithe body against mine. Our play continued, and I rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with her hands above her head. Her tank top had ridden up by now, revealing a mouth-watering abdomen and her bottoms were scrunched up towards her waist. She panted beneath me and arched her back, trying to push me off of her and once again forcing herself against my engorged cock. Still holding her down I moved my mouth to her abdomen and blew, making a funny sound like I used to when we were just kids. The subtle scent of her body wash and perfume lingered and she squealed as I rubbed the morning whiskers of facial hair on her smooth skin.

Displaying that she had obviously been working out, she somehow gained leverage over me and flipped back on top, her legs interlocked with mine, straddling my thigh. I could swear I felt faint yet rhythmic thrusts against my leg with her nimble frame squashed against my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my ear and she finally sat up raising her arms in victory as I gave up, exhausted. If I hadn't been so entranced with our arousing battle, I might have noticed her nipples standing proudly and entirely visible through the soft cotton of her tank top.

Our horseplay ended, and as I looked up at her with her abdomen and firm breasts heaving from our tussle, I knew then that she would undoubtedly win Playmate of the Year. It was almost as if she read it on my face, because she gave me a little peck on the lips and hopped off, maintaining the innocence our little slumber party had began with. She had the walk of an angel and she once again smiled at me as she bounced out, swinging around the frame of the door and out of sight. I laid there for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together and shake off any further thoughts of the hottest woman I had ever laid eyes on; it was no easy task.

As I worked through my exam, my thoughts occasionally strayed to Hanni, wondering what was going on and if I was out of my mind for thinking of her as any more than a sister. The exam was as easy as I thought it would be, so I finished and returned home early. When I got back my sister was at the fridge, deep in thought, biting on her finger as she always did. Dressed in tiny jean shorts and an oversized football jersey, tied at the waist and hanging slightly over one shoulder, I thought of she now seemed to know exactly what to wear to complement her figure. I scolded myself inwardly for then thinking it would be better if she wore less.

"Oooh, you scared the shit out of me," she said as she jumped and the jersey fell the rest of the way down her shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath.

I wanted to ravish her on the kitchen table right then and there as she turned her head and cocked her hips, playing at my desires.

"I was just going to make us both lunch, how did your test go?"

I told her about it as I sat at the table and she prepared lunch, slapping my hand away a few times that I reached for some little morsels.

"I've been taking cooking classes," she told me, "It's funny because I'm finally doing all the things I want to do, maybe I wasn't cut out for college anyway."

"You're nuts Hanni," I fired back, "you have always been the smartest girl I know, and are probably still the only female who can beat me in any game on the Xbox.... you're amazing."

She glowed in response to my comment her striking eyes locking onto mine, "I love you so much Oppa."

We ate and chatted about this and that, and I realized that even though Playboy Playmate status had taken her from a hot young girl to a to-die-for image on the page of a magazine, we still got on as well as ever.

"So I was thinking," she interjected, "I've got to go to this club tonight and shake hands with a bunch of the higher-ups of Playboy here, but I don't really want to go alone. They might be a little weirded out if I brought my brother, but do you think you might want to go as my date?"

"I mean, sure, if you think that's okay," I fired back, excited but nervous.

"Of course it is," said Hanni happily, "I'd just love to have someone to hold on to, it can be kind of intimidating considering the nature of the work."

She told me a little more about the night and what was in store, some dancing, some drinking and of course some more playmates - which I obviously couldn't complain about. The rest of the day went on with little consequence, we watched a movie together and caught up on some work individually.

After I had thrown on a nice button-up and dress pants I went and sat on the couch and waited for Hanni, who was never on time. When the doorbell rang and I hopped up to answer it, I was surprised to see a expensive-looking limousine sitting in the driveway.

"We should be going sir, wouldn't want to keep Hanni's employers waiting." said the driver.

Just then, the click of heels on hardwood alerted us that Hanni was finally ready to go. As I looked up I nearly collapsed, and so did the driver. Hanni wore a red, slightly shimmering dress, cut low between her breasts and high on her thighs. Her cleavage was so perfect I could die happy right there, the dress seeming to be holding on to it for dear life. It clung to her form and I couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. As she gracefully stepped down the stairs in her simple but sexy black heels, the driver struggled for words.

"Good e-evening Miss Underwood, I am d-d-david, your driver for tonight."

Hanni was a good sport and thanked David as we walked out the door. As I took the first step out the door, Hanni stopped me and whispered in my ear, causing a tingle to run through my body,

"I think he saw something he liked."

Not to be outdone, I turned and whispered back, "He wasn't the only one."

She squeezed my hand and after she got in the limo, David, who was holding the door said, "You are a lucky man." I knew I was.

Hanni sat close to me the whole ride there and her presence was intoxicating. The night pretty much went as Hanni had described, we sipped on drinks while meeting a whole bunch of people who pretty much jumped over me to get to Hanni as she answered their questions. When all of the connections were finally made, Hanni dragged me toward the bar and said

"I need a shot or two, I almost couldn't stand it anymore."

I agreed and we both winced back two shots of something that was way above my budget, apparently free of charge. Then came playmate introductions. Some were scattered about the dance floor, others at various bars about the classy establishment. I recognized some from television but most were gorgeous and unknown to me. I did, however, notice that almost every one of them paled in comparison to Hanni.

Hanni dragged me onto the dance floor among the beauties and we were innocently spinning each other around and sharing the occasional close moment as the alcohol began to work its magic. Then, as if in a dream, Jessica Burciaga, a crush of mine with whom I had spent a little time flirting with earlier grabbed me for a dance. The beating music, dark atmosphere and ever-present buzz of the alcohol had me confident and forward as the tanned, Latina beauty pushed against me. She was beginning to really get into it, grinding her hips against mine in away only a fiery girl like her could. I was in another universe, doing what every guy always dreams of, and with her hands on top of mine I felt every inch of my long-standing playmate crush.

I obviously wasn't paying attention to much else because it took me a while to notice that Hanni, who was nearby, had found a guy and was dancing against him too. I tried to disregard the immediate pang of jealousy I felt, but it would not go away. Jessica was now doing her most seductive dancing, pulling my body into hers, our breath heavy upon each other, but it wasn't enough to keep me from stealing a glance at my sister across the way. Her dress was catching the little bit of light on the floor and her body was unfathomably sexy as she moved to the music. Once more I looked, and I saw on her face the same jealousy I had felt. Our eyes locked. We stared at each other as the music seemed to get quieter, and our dance partners continued their movement around us. I knew she wanted to be dancing with me at that moment, and I, with her. At the end of the song we thanked our partners, and Jessica planted a kiss on my lips, slipping a note into my pocket and whispering for me to call her.

I approached Hanni, who was now glaring at me and leaning on the bar a few feet away.

"Looks like somebody is having a good time," she said with a bit of an attitude, "you can take the limo home with her if you want, I'm sure I can get another ride."

"Hanni, don't be like that," I said with the best puppy dog eyes I could muster, "I got carried away, besides, it looks like you and Mr. Hands over there were getting along just fine by yourselves."

She loosened up a bit at that comment and looked at me sideways, smirking, "alright, just promise me at least one dance before the night is up killer," she requested with a sweet look on her face.

"Hanni," I said with a hint of seriousness in my voice, "I don't want to dance with anyone else tonight if that's okay with you."

Instead of voicing her approval, she stood on her toes and planted a kiss right on my lips, holding my head in her hands as she did. It only lingered a second, but I saw stars as she pulled away and motioned to the bartender to make us two seven-and-sevens. She leaned over the bar a bit, and the bartender ogled her cleavage as I, on the other end was helpless to the view of her backside, the red cloth stretched thin over it. I wondered if she was wearing any underwear, "maybe not," I thought mischievously.

We took our first sips silently as she batted her eyelashes at me, somewhat embarrassed from the kiss.

"I hope that wasn't your best effort out on the dance floor Hanni," I said with a hint of arrogance, "I don't think Playboy would like it if they knew their new protégé danced like she was at a junior high mixer."

Hurt, Hanni quickly shot back, "oh and I suppose you would have me shaking my ass like that little tart you were dancing with?"

"I'm not saying I wouldn't like it..." I trailed off.

Hanni quickly set down her drink and grabbed my hand as if to say, "I'm done talking about it, let's dance."

She dragged me deep into the crowd of people; it's amazing how you feel more private when surrounded by thick swells of human beings. At first she just pushed me back, swaying to herself and running her hands seductively up and down her flowing curves. My head spun as I watched and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or my hot older sister moving like she was in front of me. Then she approached me and I wrapped my arms gently around her, careful not to break the rhythmic surging of her body. I began to move with her, running my hands more daringly around her, and I heard a quiet moan into my neck.

She gracefully grabbed my arms and spun herself around, facing away from me and keeping herself enveloped in my grasp. Her style was entirely different from Jessica's, and I couldn't get enough. I savored the feeling of her petite form against mine as she ground he firm ass slowly against me. There was no question why dancing like this had become so popular, her undulations and grinding aroused me more than if she had instead turned and grasped my shaft with her nimble little hands herself. I was no amateur myself, and I moved easily behind her, touching her in all the right places, proud to see many people watching us dance so well together.

We were lost in each other, our heads buzzing from perhaps one too many drinks. I buried my head in her fragrant blonde hair, blowing softly on her neck - a move I had successfully used in the past. We were both so aroused about the fact that nobody knew our true relation that we nearly forgot it ourselves. She leaned back and looked deep into my eyes, my gaze confirming that I felt as strongly as she did. As she turned her head I boldly pressed my lips against hers, tasting a hint of cherry on her lips. I was not entirely surprised when she opened her lips a bit, and her tongue darted out to touch my mine. We broke the kiss about as soon as it started - locking our eyes together as she turned toward me and hugged her close once more.

Then after a few seconds that felt like hours, we ended our pause and were making out like a couple of teenagers. She jumped gracefully into my strong arms and we battled our tongues to see who could display the stronger desire. We were hidden from the outside world by the surging crowd but I could swear our passion caused a good number of couples around us to start engaging in the same activity.

After we were both out of breath and tired of pounding music, we broke our kiss and I said with a witty smile, "what do you think about getting out of here and going back to my place?"

She showed me that beautiful smile of hers and grabbed my hand once again, dragging me outside. I held her in my arms as we waited for the limo, and once inside we made sure the divider was up and she jumped in my lap like there was no time to lose.

Now that we had room to move about our kisses were practiced and still overflowing with desire. She thrust gently against me as I ran my hands up and down her sides, then lightly resting them against the breasts I had so dreamed of seeing. I ran my fingers in circles around her nipples which were protruding stiffly through her red dress. She moaned into my mouth and continued grinding herself against me as she straddled my lap. Not wanting her to do all the work, I gently laid her tiny frame down on the seat and hovered over her.

I teased her, putting my lips just millimeters away from hers and as she snapped up to try and lock hers to mine, I pulled away, concentrating on my hands moving firmly from her legs all the way up to her face. When they reached their destination, I grasped her neck and finally locked lips once again, this time lightly pressing my leg between her thighs. She moaned enthusiastically, barely able to maintain the kiss as I pressed hard and then eased over and over. My fingers moved just below the fabric next to her generous cleavage, wishing my hands were unhindered by the dress. She swelled back against my leg and I continued to massage her body and breasts. Just as she took a deep breath in anticipation of impending orgasm, there was a knock on our tinted window and we realized we had been stopped for some time. I looked down at Hanni and collapsed, both of us laughing at how our arousal had caused us to lose all track of time.

"Not fair," Hanni said, gasping and visibly pissed to be withheld what would have been a fantastic orgasm.

I pulled her up, also unhappy to be leaving the privacy and comfort of the limousine's cabin.

As we left vehicle, the driver said "Goodnight to you Miss Underwood, and to you too sir," giving me a knowing look.

Hanni was none the wiser as she sauntered toward the door, still moping about her suspended pleasure. I thanked the lucky stars that my parents were spending the weekend on a sailboat with friends and I would have the house, and Hanni, all to myself.

When we finally got inside and I shut the door, Hanni pushed my body against it softly with her own.

I looked at her and started in a concerned tone, "Hanni..."

But Hanni put her finger over my lips and stopped me, saying, "I want this, and I know you do too. I am your older sister, I can make my own decisions. Yes, this is technically against the rules, but so is looking at those pictures of me online little brother."

I thought about it for a second, "You've made a few good points."

"Now," she said, a little more demanding than I am used to, "I am going to go upstairs, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you grab us something to drink, preferably without alcohol, and follow me up in five minutes."

With that, she turned and headed up the stairs without looking back.

I was stunned, and more than a little turned on. My sister had never been so forward in her whole life, but I loved the new her. I grabbed two waters and stood at the counter in the kitchen, taking hold of reality and reveling in how lucky I was. I knew that when I walked up those stairs, I would be spending the night with the most beautiful girl I'd probably ever come across, let alone my sister and a Playboy Playmate unlike any other. With that, I knew that there was no decision to make and my feet took me up the stairs like they had a mind of their own.

Taking a drink, I opened the door and for the second time that night, my sister blew me away. She had been under the covers, but as I opened the door she sat up and proudly showed off her full form. I literally spit out the water I had just drank as I took her in; she giggled, flattered at the reaction. She was wearing a slightly transparent magenta lace bra, which pushed up her ample breasts ever so slightly. Her bottoms were a simple but sexy black cotton that I couldn't wait to rip off.

She motioned to me and said "Come here;"

I walked to the edge of the bed. She crawled on all fours at me like a jungle cat, and equally as graceful. As she came eye to eye with me she took one of the bottles from my hand, opening it and taking a quick drink. She capped it and dropped it nonchalantly to the side, the glistening water still on her lips. She then gave me a slow and sultry kiss, once again holding my head in her hands; I could taste the cool water on her lips.

I placed a knee on the bed and pulled her close to me, once again beginning to slide our tongues against the other. I tried to go as slowly as possible as I laid her down and continued to kiss her deeply, but how could you blame me, with all the skin to explore my hands moved on their own. Up and down they travelled, not wanting to leave an inch of her body unexplored. I kissed her neck as I massaged all over her, and she once again began to pant into my ear, quickly nibbling at it. I couldn't believe how exciting it was to feel her move strongly against me, arching her back and thrusting her hips out to meet mine. My hands cupped her round cheeks and gave them a squeeze; I could feel her smile as we kissed.

My hands finally finished their journey, and one of them moved to the clasp in her bra. I had never been too good at removing a bra, but tonight, I was so hot with luck that I did it in one fluid motion. The fabric loosened, and I slowly walked my fingers along the patterned lace. She loved how much attention I was paying to each part of her; she had thought hard about what to wear for me. I pulled back from her face and looked into her eyes before I knew I'd finally have her naked body before me. The soft glow of the lamp nearby upon her made her all the more beautiful.

"Oppa...I..." she started, but this time it was my turn to quiet her, with a kiss.

She was about to tell me how much she wanted me, how happy I made her, but I already knew, and she let out a breath in relief as I acknowledged it with my kiss.

I ran my hand up one of her arms and placed it above her head, and doing the same with the other I joined them, restraining her harmlessly. With my free hand I gingerly moved her bra up her arms and covered her with my body, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side. She nipped at my lip and caught me off guard, freeing her hands and allowing her to reach for my shirt and nimbly unbutton it faster than I could have myself. She pushed it down my shoulders and off and I kissed her once again, our partial nakedness adding fervor to our efforts.

I finally wrapped my hands over her breasts, one at a time, playing with it slowly and beginning to breathe heavily myself in arousal. I thumbed her nipples and found that she was extremely sensitive there, because her moans became more frequent into my mouth and neck. We both moved our hips against each other in unison, mimicking the action we both so desired to get to, but I wanted anything but to rush things. She on the other hand, had already begun removing my belt and unbuttoning my pants, and in no time, she was wrapping her legs around my pelvis and impressively removing my pants mostly with her feet.

I could feel her pussy wet against my thigh, and our new proximity caused me to resume the pressure that had been so effective in the limo. I once again had her humping at my leg, becoming wetter with each push. I replaced my thigh with two of my fingers, rubbing softly but surely against her lips and clit. She squealed in pleasure and dug her nails lightly into my back. She was so close to orgasm she could barely stand it, and as I drank her in I couldn't fathom that a girl could be any sexier. My older sister was beneath me, begging for my touch, both of us wanting each other more than we had ever wanted someone before.

As I continued my ministrations, I slipped my fingers beneath the cotton of her panties, finding her mound baby smooth and slick with her desire. Being the consummate teaser that I am, I continued to keep her at the peak of her pleasure without pushing her over. She was frustrated, and she began to grab at my cock through my boxer shorts. She moved her dexterous fingers over it, allowing me to savor the feeling and the cotton between them. Then, just as I had done, she moved her hands underneath my boxers and grabbed me firmly, shuddering occasionally from my own onslaught of her smooth quim. She brushed her fingers up and down over my shaft, lightly touching the tip and rubbing the pre-cum over it.

"Please...please....oh...Oppa," she begged into my ear as I continued to rub against her clit and eased one finger, and then two, slowly into her wet pussy.

In and out I moved them gently, feeling how tight she was, but only enough to keep her bucking her hips at my touch and begging for release.

She once more grasped my cock, not even able to wrap her small hand around it and pushed her other hand against my chest.

"I want you, no... I need you...inside me," she pleaded.

Now I may have been teasing her, but the entire time I could do little more than think about how fantastic if was going to feel to finally be inside my gorgeous playmate sister. I kissed down her neck, not failing to stop at each of her breasts and lick tenderly at each hard nipple, hearing her moan in return. As I continued I kissed at her tight abs, belly-button and then looked up at her, smiling as I pulled her panties down the first few inches with my teeth. She managed a smile through her sighs of passion and I finished taking off her cute little black bottoms the rest of the way with my hands. Me standing at the foot of the bed, she reached out with her toe and grabbed the elastic band of my shorts, pushing it down, showing me what she wanted. I took them off in one fluid motion and when I looked up she was using both hands to make a 'come hither' motion at me.

As I slid up her body, feeling our skin rub lightly against each other, I knew this was it. We stared lustfully and longingly into each other's eyes and I could feel my fully enlarged shaft pressing directly between her soaked folds. We kissed once more, a kiss so deep and meaningful that only a brother and a sister could share, and I gazed upon her stunning features.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I know I do, but I want you to be sure," I said, and I meant it.

She pulled me close and, still panting, spoke a breathy "Yes...fuck me...please."

She reached between us and gently pointed me directly towards her, placing the tip right at her entrance. With one hand, she pulled at my back, encouraging me to move inside of her. I did as instructed, but as if in one last effort to tease, I pushed only a bit of my tip inside of her before pulling it back out. The feeling alone was unbearably good, and I had hardly entered her yet.

This time she demandingly breathed, " Oppa," strongly, "Fuck me."

With that, I began to press into her. We both gasped into each other's necks as I slid in, inch by inch. I stopped briefly for her to adjust to my sizable cock, and pulled out a bit, causing us both to hold our breath at the feeling. Finally I made one final thrust, and our hips touched together as we joined in a passionate kiss. We were both smiling from ear to ear at the sheer bliss we were experiencing. She pawed at me, fidgeting at the intense pleasure I was giving her.

I could have stayed locked together like that forever, but we both began, slowly at first, to rock against each other. We stayed pressed together as my cock slid further and further, in and out of her impossibly tight tunnel. I began to lose focus on the kisses we had been sharing and was unable to do anything but grasp at her hips with one hand and support myself with the other. Her moans came almost every other breath now, a sound so soft and sweet I wished they would never stop.

"Oh...oh...Oppa...Oppa," she gasped into my ear.

"Hanni...Hanni...you feel...so....fucking....good," I whispered back.

We were moving as one, two bodies locked in a passion for each other so strong nothing could not stop us. She then wrapped her legs around me, grabbing at me with her heels and pulling me deeper. I continued to thrust in and out, and she pushed in perfect time back toward me, grinding her clit against me every chance she could. We pushed hard enough each time that I could see her breasts, possibly my favorite feature, bouncing a bit at each stroke, still sizable even as she lay on her back. She began to squeal just a bit now with each breath, a pitch that just barely came through with each breathy moan. Finally, the orgasm I had deprived her of for so long came and she tensed up, grabbing me with impressive strength as I kept moving in and out of her, her pussy pummeling my cock with its contractions as she came for what seemed like minutes. She continued to moisten and I continued to thrust, not allowing or wanting her to come down from her climax. I couldn't believe it, I still had time to go, and though I could probably have made myself climax at any second, my body seemed determined to let me continue my enjoyment of the amazing playmate, my sister, before me.

She finally began to come down from her orgasm, and pulled me tight against her.

"Don't move.. I can't handle it... I need a moment," she managed to say.

I observed her in her post-orgasmic glow and once again had time to marvel at my luck.

"Tell me when," I challenged her.

A few slow, controlled breaths and, as if encouraged by my dare she said with all the strength she could muster "when."

With that, she flipped on top of me as she had done so many times before, without removing herself from our incestuous connection. I could tell that she was still sensitive from her first orgasm but after a few seconds she began to move her toned core in the most seductive motion. She flexed and relaxed her abs, working me in and out of her soaked pussy like a piston around a camshaft. She smiled as she saw my eyes roll back, astounded at her ability. I firmly grasped her body, feeling it move and moving with it, my hands free to do whatever they pleased. I took her breasts in my hands, cupping them and feeling their weight and wonderful softness. She leaned into me, still moving her hips so smoothly up and down on my cock. I thrust up meet her downward movements, us now face to face and joining again in a lustful kiss. I felt myself closer to orgasm but fought it away, I couldn't give in just yet. Hanni on the other hand was not quite close, I could see her face change just a bit with each up and down thrust, and you should have seen it as I moved my thumb to her clit. As I rubbed at her little button she smiled again against my mouth and moaned my name:

"Oppa...fuck....Oppa....oh God."

Encouraged, I scooped her up, moving to the edge of the bed still inside her and could feel us both pulsing now that the thrusts had momentarily stopped. I looked around for something to set her on and found the that padded bay window across from my bed to be the perfect place. I stood up, but always wanting to try it, and her light body the perfect size, we began to fuck standing up. I grasped her ass tightly in my hands and she wrapped her legs around me. We adjusted to the position and for a minute or two were once again lost in our passion as I fucked her, the sexy little minx that she was, as well as I could. Holding her weight distracted me from my own not-so-far-off orgasm and I plunged into her again and again, seeing that she was enjoying it too. The feeling was like no other, having her wrapped securely around me, suspended in the air and still enjoying the heat of her sex sliding up and down my shaft. I savored it, her breasts pushing against my chest so I could feel her teasing nipples and each breath.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck me...Oppa... fuck your sister... Fuck you're big...shit...shit...Ohmygod."

I was so turned on by the dirty mouth she got as I fucked her, she never spoken like that before, and I began to pound her harder. Her moans got louder in approval as I pounded at her and her little hole nearly dripped in enjoyment.

Finally I moved with her still impaled on my cock over to the window, set her down, and looked her right in the eyes as I pulled out just past the tip and then began to thrust back into her slowly. Our looks both shouted that we loved and wanted each other so badly. My cock fit perfectly inside my sister's tight little pussy. I knew my orgasm was coming, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that hers was too. She looked back at me, pleading with me to keep going, and we both watched between us as my cock disappeared inside her again and again. The pleasure was agonizing and we never wanted it to end.

Each stroke brought us closer to our impending climaxes and I looked over her body one final time. She was just barely glistening with sweat and her face was flushed. Her chest, and firm breasts with it was heaving with each moan. She once again pulled me into her with her legs, and used one hand to bring my face to hers. I brushed the hair from her face and grasped her hips with my other hand. We were oblivious to anything else now but the sensation of her wet tunnel grasping at my cock. We alternated between quick, fulfilling strokes to slow and pleasurable ones where we held our breath for an entire thrust.

We ground against each other, feeling our bodies pressed together and our tongues dancing drunk with lust, and we were both seconds away from release. For a few strokes we looked deep into each other's eyes, wanting to see the other pushed over the edge. I pulled out one final time and Hanni's teary eyes begged for that one final advance. As I thrust into her, she screamed aloud, and I nearly blacked out as I began releasing inside of her. Her walls contracted around me, flowing with fluids and I pumped my seed again and again into her, trying to thrust in deeper as I did. She was clutching at any part of me she could with her hands, unable to breathe until her orgasm began to fade. Her legs held me inside of her, and I could think of absolutely nothing as a wave of such intensity washed over me that I went temporarily blind. Hanni quivered again and again as her own orgasm rendered her limp in my arms. Her pussy squeezed the last bit out of me and we both held each other, speechless for who knows how long.

I began to pull myself from her and the tenderness of our lovemaking made it almost impossible to move without both of us trembling at the feeling. As I finally moved completely out of her, we both felt an intense emptiness, which I remedied by quickly laying her down in the window and sliding in behind her. I held her tight as we spooned on the cushions, every sense heightened, and our desires for each other stronger than ever.

We lay like that for a long time, just feeling each other breathe, still unable to form words or thoughts at what had just transpired. All I knew was that I had just had the experience of a lifetime, and I wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. As if reading my mind, Hanni finally managed,

"I can't believe what you just did to me, that was...." I was hanging on her every word, "fucking incredible," she finished.

We both smiled at her phrasing, and I knew she felt the same as me.

"I love you so much Hanni, and that was the best thing that will ever happen to me," I said back, knowing that words really couldn't describe fully how I felt.

Hanni turned to me with a look on her face I didn't understand, "best thing that will ever happen to you, Oppa?" she questioned. "What about next time?"

...to be continued

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ bulking szn / caleb x reader

synopsis; who knew your lovely and insanely strong boyfriend could get even more muscular — even more sexy. gotta thank bulking season for that!

⋆ 800 words / suggestive (NSFW) / fem reader / 2nd person

caleb's hot. he's been hot.

you know that, and everyone around you knows that — it's almost become a running joke how he gets stares from everyone when he's out and about.

what you didn't know is that he could get even more attractive. who could blame you, though? he looks like he inspired michelangelo's david — and he can get hotter? now that's just plain greedy. except it's happening, and all you can do is stare at him more than usual.

and here was your greek god of a boyfriend standing in the kitchen, preparing his protein shake. sitting at the kitchen island with your chin resting on your hand, you were staring at him, ogling him. his arms looked so good. how would they feel around your neck, you wondered — but your daydreams had to be cut short by the sound of a refrigerator door closing loudly.

"you know baby, a picture might last you longer. i can feel your eyes on me, and i'm not even facing you."

"mmh, i'm just not used to this whole," you make vague gestures in the air, "bulking thing. gotta stare and memorize it."

he laughs, and you keep on openly admiring him. when he mentioned that he'd be bulking soon, you just nodded, not entirely sure what that implied. the caleb you knew from your childhood and teenage years was strong, yes, but mostly athletic. this meatier, buffer version was new, but so, so, so welcome.

right now, his muscles weren't as defined as you were used to. he looked more.. soft. still as strong, but he seemed bigger — he could already dwarf you before, but now, it was way more serious. not only that, he's traded his looser shirtless tank tops for compression shirts, and it was such a delight for your eyes. his pecs looked bigger, and his back — his back. just a little more broad. just a hint more sexy. was it even legal to look that good?

but man, whenever you hugged him? it was like heaven held you in its embrace. the cherry on top of your very attractive (beef)cake. he was so much warmer too — caleb always ran hot. he's your personal heater during the winter months, but now? he was burning hot. or maybe is it just how you see him? who knows, honestly.

funniest thing about this situation, though? caleb knew you'd react like that upon seeing him get more buff, but he didn't know you'd be that affected by bulking season. he knew how much you enjoyed his physique, and bulking up in order to cut and get stronger and bigger than you, just seemed like a nice challenge. a good way to keep himself busy and please you.

there was one more thing though, way more challenging than keeping tracks of his macros in his new diet. you made it insanely difficult to keep his hands to himself. first, it was the staring. he was well aware that you couldn't really help yourself, he was there looking all handsome just for you. the half-lidded stares when he worked out, lingering glances at his arms and chest, bedroom eyes when he wore that compression shirt one size too small, were to be expected. the way you basically undressed him with your gaze occasionally made him flushed, but caleb couldn't even comment on it — he did the same to you practically daily.

and then came the physical touch.

caleb wasn't shy. he knew he looked attractive, and he knew that you found him attractive. he also knew you were touchy, but your touchiness increased tenfold when he started bulking, always poking and prodding at his body. a perpetually careful hand making goosebumps appear on his skin as you softly traced the lines of the veins on his arms. did you know what you were doing? or were you unconsciously exercising your right to touch his body as if it were yours to own. oh well, it basically was — he was your possession as much as you were his.

god, you made it so hard to hold back, though. caleb just wanted to manhandle you and show you that he wasn't just getting softer — his strength remained. he could still bend you whatever which way he pleased (and he knew you'd enjoy it), but he held back. he held back because after years of yearning, years of practiced patience, he knew the reward was worth it.

so caleb just kept on tolerating it. after all, bulking season wasn't over just yet — he could handle your hands roaming around a little more. three more weeks until he could show you his full potential.

you'd get your lovely buff caleb showing off his muscles for you, and in return, he'd get his even lovelier girlfriend underneath him and return all the physical touches he's been subjected to while bulking — he'll have you oh so pliant and responsive to his roughhousing in bed.

fair trade!

🍎 pomme's final notes — don't look at me too hard this is so self indulgent i just really like strong guys and i've been rewatching caleb content and his back is just. irresistible i'm gonna chew on him like those buff bear breads

[halfmoonaria]

he doesn’t know

pairing: sub!tara carpenter & dom!female reader

summary: every sunday, she finds herself in the backseat of your car instead—legs shaking, breath hitching, and trying to keep quiet.

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, secret relationship, oral sex (tara receiving), strap-on sex

author��s note: never done this so tell me if it’s too much.

Tara wasn't ashamed. She never had been.

When she was four, she decided she wanted to wear her fairy costume to preschool—not for Halloween, not for a special event, just because she felt like it.

The glittery wings were bent from being stuffed in the dress-up bin too many times, and the tulle skirt was a little too short after a year-long growth spurt, but she didn't care. It made her feel pretty, so she wore it.

Her mom tried to talk her out of it, and Sam sighed like she was already embarrassed on her behalf, but Tara had been stubborn even then.

She had marched out the door, wings bouncing with every step, and refused to acknowledge the weird looks from other kids.

It was the same when she cut her own bangs in the first grade.

She had gotten bored, found a pair of dull craft scissors, and decided she wanted a change. The result was uneven and way too short, a jagged mess that made her mom gasp when she saw it. Sam winced and tried to smooth it down for her, saying she'd regret it when she looked back at pictures.

Tara just shrugged. It was her hair. If she didn't care, then why should anyone else?

That was how she had always been—bold, impulsive, never second-guessing herself. She wasn't reckless, not really, but she never understood the point of worrying about what people thought.

Her parents didn't know where it came from.

Sam was careful, always weighing her choices, always thinking ahead. She cared about things like reputation, about saying the right thing and making the right impression. She was the responsible one, the one who took after their mom, the one who fit into every expectation placed in front of her.

Tara was different.

She did things because she wanted to, because they felt right in the moment. She never thought too hard about whether she should. And when people questioned her, when they looked at her like she was weird or childish, she never let it get to her.

When she was eight, she declared that she was going to be a superhero for career day, no matter how many times her teacher told her to pick something realistic.

And when she was ten, she ran straight into a fight with a kid twice her size because he made fun of her friend's lisp. She had come home with a bloody nose and a proud grin, and Sam had scolded her the whole time she was pressing an ice pack to her face.

"You don't just fight people, Tara," Sam had said, exasperated. "What if he had really hurt you?"

"He didn't," Tara had replied. "And he won't make fun of her again."

That was what mattered to her—doing what she felt was right, standing by the choices she made, never letting anyone make her feel small.

And shame? That wasn't something she carried.

When other kids went through awkward phases, blushing at old photos or cringing at past decisions, Tara barely blinked. She had no regrets, no embarrassment. She never understood why Sam stressed over things like reputation or what people might whisper behind her back.

Tara didn't let people's opinions shape her. She never had. She was bold, confident, completely sure of herself in a way that most kids weren't.

But that didn't mean she was immune to normal things. Crushes, for example.

Her first celebrity crush had been Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. She was barely old enough to understand what a crush was, but she knew she liked watching him. He had that effortless charm, that mischievous smile—she figured that was what people meant when they said someone was attractive.

But as she got older, that crush faded.

She expected another one to take its place. That's how it worked, right? You grew up, your tastes changed, you found someone new to fawn over.

Except... she didn't.

At least, not the way she was supposed to.

Because when she rewatched the movie, waiting for that familiar feeling to settle in at the sight of Heath's smirk, it never came. Instead, she felt something entirely different—something she didn't understand—when Julia Stiles appeared on screen.

It wasn't just that she admired her. It wasn't just that she thought she was cool. It was the way her stomach flipped at the sharpness of her voice, the confidence in her posture. It was the way she suddenly found herself hyper-fixated on the little things—her smirk, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the sharp glint in her eyes when she delivered a cutting remark.

And it wasn't just her.

It was the girl in her chemistry class with the pretty hands. The soccer captain who always had her hair in a messy bun. The stranger she saw at the mall, dressed in a leather jacket and looking effortlessly cool.

But she didn't get it.

Because that wasn't supposed to happen.

She had always been confident in who she was. She never questioned herself, never second-guessed her choices. But this? This threw her off. It didn't fit into the version of herself she had always known.

So, for the first time in her life, she did the one thing she never thought she would.

She ignored it.

At least, she tried to.

But it was impossible to ignore something that followed her everywhere. Her eyes drifted—unintentionally at first, but then with growing awareness. The girls in her classes, the ones at the mall, the cashier at the grocery store. It wasn't just about noticing them, either. It was the way her stomach tensed when a girl laughed in that soft, pretty way, or the heat that crept up her neck when one of them brushed past her too closely.

And then there were the movies.

She used to argue hard whenever Mindy and Annika suggested a rom-com over a horror flick. But lately? She still huffed, still acted annoyed, but the protests weren't as strong as before. And when a sex scene came on, she didn't roll her eyes or fake gag anymore.

Because the problem was, she was watching.

Not the man. Never the man.

Her focus lingered elsewhere—on the curves of a woman's body, the softness of her skin, the way her lips parted on a moan. Tara didn't mean to stare, didn't mean to feel anything, but she did.

And that terrified her more than any horror movie ever could.

Not because she thought it was wrong. Tara hadn't grown up in a religious household, where being gay was condemned, or in a place where she'd been taught to believe it was unnatural. Her family never gave her any reason to think she couldn't be whoever she wanted, love whoever she wanted.

She had lesbian friends, gay friends. Mindy was out and proud, never hesitating to call a girl hot in the middle of a conversation. No one ever looked twice. It was normal. Accepted. Fine.

So why didn't it feel fine for her?

She knew it wasn't wrong—she wasn't stupid. She'd never side-eyed anyone for being into girls, never thought twice when someone came out. But somehow, when it was her—when the label curled around her throat and squeezed—it felt different.

Tara had spent her whole life knowing exactly who she was. She had never been unsure. She was bold. Confident. Unapologetic. She cut her own bangs with safety scissors when she was six and shrugged when Sam gasped at the mess she made.

She wore her Halloween costume from last year to school in the middle of March because she liked it. When she made a decision, she stuck to it, never second-guessed herself, never hesitated.

But this? This wasn't something she chose.

It crept up on her, slithered into her brain like an unwanted thought, a splinter she couldn't pull out. And it was infuriating, because she had never questioned herself before—never felt like she had to.

And yet, here she was.

Staring too long at girls in her classes, feeling her chest go tight when a woman laughed a certain way, blinking too fast at the TV whenever a female character undressed.

This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

It was okay for other people to be gay. She never questioned that. It was fine, normal, good for them. But when she looked at herself, at the thought of admitting it, of saying it out loud—it felt impossible. Like it didn't belong to her. Like the rules were different for her, even though she knew, logically, they weren't.

Maybe that was what scared her the most.

That for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure of herself.

That for the first time in her life, she felt ashamed.

She hated it. Hated how it made her feel like a stranger in her own skin, like she had something to hide when she had never hidden anything in her life.

And the worst part? Mindy was starting to notice.

Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was just being Mindy, teasing for the sake of getting a rise out of her like she always did. But Tara felt exposed all the same, like she was standing in the middle of a room with a spotlight on her, like any second now someone would call her out and she wouldn't have a damn thing to say in return.

It started small.

It started with little things. A smirk when a pretty girl passed by. A knowing look when Tara stumbled over her words around someone attractive. A casual, So, you got a thing for brunettes now? when Tara glanced at someone for half a second too long.

It was nothing. Just jokes. But every time, Tara felt a spike of panic she couldn't shake.

Because she wasn't used to this—this hesitation, this awareness of herself. Normally, if someone called her out on something, she'd just own it. Shrug it off. Yeah, so what? But now, the idea of admitting anything made her stomach twist.

She could play it off, roll her eyes, throw a sarcastic comment back. But Mindy wasn't stupid. And she wasn't letting it go.

One night, they were walking back from a party when Mindy casually nudged her side and said, You totally froze up when that girl talked to you.

Tara scoffed, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. I did not.

You did. And you were blushing.

I don't blush.

Mindy had just grinned, like she had already made up her mind. Uh-huh. Sure.

Tara had let it go, pretended it didn't bother her. But later, alone in her room, she caught herself replaying the interaction in her head, her chest tightening with frustration.

Why did she care so much?

Why did it matter what Mindy thought?

Maybe because deep down, she wasn't entirely sure Mindy was wrong.

And if Mindy could see it, then who else could?

That was what scared her the most. Because Mindy wasn't wrong. That was the worst part.

And whenever Mindy made comments about it, Tara would scoff, roll her eyes, shove her shoulder, mutter something about reaching—

But every time, her pulse would quicken, her ears would burn, and she'd feel the panic rise in her chest like a tidal wave.

It wasn't just the waitress at the diner, the one with the dimples and the low-cut uniform. It wasn't just the girl in her sociology class, the one with the raspy voice who always showed up with a cold brew and a half-smirk. It was everywhere.

At the gym, when she caught herself watching the way a girl tied up her ponytail, the smooth shift of her muscles.

At the grocery store, when she found herself staring just a little too long at the woman reaching for something on the top shelf, her shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach.

At movie night, when she no longer protested the romance movies Mindy and Anika picked—because she didn't mind watching them anymore.

That was the real problem. Because she still hated the cheesy dialogue and the unrealistic plotlines, but whenever there was a sex scene, whenever a woman undressed, Tara wasn't looking away.

She didn't want to.

And that terrified her.

Because it wasn't just a thought anymore, wasn't just something lurking in the back of her mind that she could ignore. It was becoming real, something she couldn't control. She started feeling like people could see it—like it was written all over her, like she had a neon sign above her head flashing Tara Carpenter likes girls.

And maybe nobody actually noticed. Maybe nobody gave a damn. But it didn't matter because she felt exposed anyway, like someone could call her out at any second. Like Mindy's teasing wasn't just teasing anymore—like it was an accusation.

It was in the way people looked at her, in the way her own skin felt too tight, too obvious. She started overthinking every little thing—how long she looked at a girl, whether she was staring, whether her voice sounded different when she spoke to someone pretty. Whether she was acting different.

And the worst part was that she didn't even know if she was right. She didn't know if people actually saw something in her that she hadn't seen before, or if she was just losing her mind over nothing. But it didn't matter. The fear was there, real and suffocating, and it was eating her alive.

So she did the only thing she could think to do.

She got a boyfriend.

Or, more accurately, she asked Chad out.

It wasn't some grand realization. It wasn't even a well-thought-out decision. It was desperation. Panic. Like a reflex, like slamming the brakes at the last second before a crash.

And Chad just happened to be there.

And in a way, it made sense. She'd known him forever. Before high school, before college, before parties and liquor and sneaking out when Sam wasn't looking. He was familiar. Safe. He liked her. Everyone knew that.

Ever since sixth grade, people had whispered about it. Girls in their class used to giggle and nudge each other whenever Chad so much as looked at her. It was obvious.

He was the guy who always found excuses to talk to her, who laughed a little too hard at her jokes, who got weirdly competitive when she dated someone else, even when there was no reason to be.

So when she asked him out, there was no hesitation.

He said yes before she even finished the sentence.

And that was supposed to be it.

She had a boyfriend now. That was supposed to fix everything.

It was supposed to make things go away—the butterflies in her stomach, the heat crawling up her neck whenever a girl smiled at her, the way she noticed things she wasn't supposed to notice.

It was supposed to make Mindy shut up.

It was supposed to be easy.

But it wasn't.

If anything, it only got worse.

At first, she told herself it was working. That it was fine. She had a boyfriend. She was in a relationship. If people had questions before, they wouldn't anymore.

And it wasn't like she hated Chad. He was sweet. Affectionate. A little too eager sometimes, but that wasn't new. And for a while, she let herself believe that this was how it was supposed to be.

But then he kissed her.

And it wasn't bad. There was nothing wrong with it. His lips were soft, his hands were warm, he knew what he was doing. But for some reason, Tara felt wrong.

Like she was trying to force something that wasn't there.

And maybe that would've been fine if it was just the kissing. If it stopped at making out on his couch, at him pulling her into his lap at parties, at his arm draped lazily around her shoulders.

But it didn't stop.

And that was when the real problem started.

Because the first time they had sex, she didn't feel relieved.

She felt nothing.

No spark, no excitement, no rush of pleasure or warmth curling through her stomach. Just the uncomfortable realization that she was waiting for it to feel like something more.

And it never did.

She knew what sex was supposed to feel like—what it was supposed to do to her. But with Chad, it was just... there. Mechanical. Predictable. And all she could think about was whether it would be different if it were a woman.

Would a woman's lips feel softer than Chad's? Would her moans be louder? Would Tara's own moans sound different—less forced, less careful—if she wasn't holding back, if she actually wanted it?

Would the right spots be hit without her having to guide him there?

Would she ache for it the way she was supposed to?

She didn't know.

But she wanted to.

And THAT was the worst part. Because she wasn't supposed to be thinking about this. She wasn't supposed to be comparing. But every time Chad touched her, every time his hands slipped under her shirt, every time he pressed her into the mattress and murmured her name against her skin, she found herself wondering.

Would it feel better?

Would it feel right?

And once that thought was in her head, it wouldn't leave.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to be normal, it wasn't working.

And with every day that passed, she started to realize—maybe it never would.

That thought alone should have terrified her. Should have made her try harder to make things with Chad work, to prove to herself that this was just a phase, a weird glitch in her brain that she could push through.

But instead, it just made her angry.

Because she had done everything RIGHT. She had played by the rules, followed the script, done exactly what she was supposed to do. And yet, here she was, stuck in her own damn head, questioning things she shouldn’t be questioning.

And it didn't help that you existed.

You weren't someone that necessarily stood out in a crowd—not in the way Mindy did, always loud, always on, impossible to ignore. But Tara knew you.

Everybody did.

Because you weren't just out, you were openly out. Unapologetically. The kind of gay that didn't need to be announced because it was just there. The way you dressed, the way you carried yourself, the way you talked about girls without ever hesitating.

Mindy was the same way, sure, but Mindy was Mindy. She had always been that way—loud, cocky, the self-proclaimed expert on all things queer.

But you? You weren't loud. You weren't in people's faces about it. You just were. And for some reason, that made it so much worse.

Because it meant Tara couldn't ignore you.

And she had tried.

God, had she tried.

But no matter what, her eyes always seemed to find you at parties, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, laughing at something someone said. Or in class, when you stretched in your seat, the hem of your shirt riding up just a little. Or when you passed by in the hall, chatting with Anika about some girl you had hooked up with the weekend before.

It made Tara's stomach twist in ways she didn't understand.

Because she wasn't jealous. Not really.

So then why did she care?

Why did it bother her so much?

Why did she hate how easy it seemed for you? How you never hesitated, never stumbled over your words, never had to second-guess every single thing you felt?

Maybe that's why she had looked at you that night at the party.

Maybe that's why she had kept looking.

And maybe that's why, when she finally realized you had caught her, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

The party had been the same as every other frat party—loud, overcrowded, the air thick with cheap beer and sweat and the distant scent of weed. The living room was packed, music shaking the walls, bodies pressed together, some dancing, some just using it as an excuse to grope each other. The kitchen was worse, sticky floors and an overworked fridge stuffed with liquor bottles, people shouting over each other as they took shots, beer pong cups scattered across every available surface.

It wasn't Tara's scene. Not really. But Mindy had dragged her out, Anika too, and after a couple of drinks, the haze had settled in just enough to make it bearable.

And then she had seen you.

She hadn't even known you were going to be there. But one second, she was standing near the edge of the living room, half-listening to some guy rant about his business major, and the next, her eyes had locked onto you—and everything else just faded into background noise.

Because you weren't just there.

You were hot.

Tara had always known you were attractive in the way someone KNOWS things without really thinking about it. She had eyes. She wasn't blind. But that night, it hit her. It knocked the air from her lungs, settled thick and heavy in the pit of her stomach, made her pulse in places she shouldn't have been thinking about.

The alcohol made it worse.

She should've been angry—angry that you were here, that you were making her feel things she didn't want to feel. But she wasn't.

She was just staring.

Her grip tightened around her cup, her lips parted slightly as she took you in—your outfit, the way it hugged your body in all the right places, the effortless confidence in the way you carried yourself.

You weren't wearing something basic, like a black cat or a schoolgirl outfit. No, you were dressed as something that exuded confidence, something cocky—mafia boss style, but with a spin that made it impossible to ignore.

A fitted black blazer, tailored to perfection, cinched at the waist with a sleek belt. Underneath, a deep-cut silk blouse, the first few buttons undone just enough to tease, the fabric clinging to your frame in a way that made it hard not to look.

The skirt was short—really short—hugging your hips before stopping dangerously high on your thighs, paired with sheer black stockings that ran smooth down to your heels.

A fake cigar rested between your fingers, just for the effect, and a thin gold chain sat against your collarbone, glinting under the dim party lights. The whole look screamed power, control— trouble.

Tara's body reacted before her brain could catch up.

Her stomach tightened. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she felt a rush of heat spread through her—low and needy and completely out of her control.

Because you weren't even trying. You weren't flirting with her, weren't giving her any special attention. You were just existing—laughing with your friends, a drink in hand, head tilting back slightly as you said something that made them all grin.

And yet, Tara felt like she was the one being hunted.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't normal.

And the second you turned your head, the second your eyes met hers, the smirk that tugged at your lips was enough to make her stomach drop.

Because Tara had never expected you to actually notice her.

She had been staring, sure—longer than she should have, more obviously than she meant to. But the idea of you catching her? The idea of you actually seeing her? That hadn't even crossed her mind.

She was frozen for a second, unsure if she should look away, pretend she hadn’t been blatantly checking you out.

But before she could decide, you were already moving—pushing off the counter with an effortless kind of confidence, weaving through the crowd like you had all the time in the world.

And you didn't hesitate. Didn't stop. Walked straight up to her like you had known her for years, like there was no question about it, like this was something that had always been meant to happen.

For a second, she thought you were going to say something cocky. Something teasing, something about the way she had been looking at you, something that would make her panic spike even higher.

Instead, you had just said her name.

Like it was obvious. Like of course you knew who she was.

Tara didn't even remember what she had said back, because her mind had been caught on you. On the way you leaned in a little when you talked, the way you smelled like expensive perfume and vodka, the way the room was too loud but she could still hear you.

And the worst part? She could barely even keep her gaze up.

Her eyes kept drifting—down to the smooth skin of your collarbone, the gold chain resting against it. Lower, to where your silk blouse was open just enough to show a teasing amount of cleavage.

She had snapped her gaze back up quickly, hoping you hadn't noticed.

You had.

After that, she didn't remember much. At least, not in detail.

She remembered you handing her another drink, remembered the feeling of your fingers brushing hers. She remembered how your lips looked around the rim of your glass, how you licked a drop of alcohol off your bottom lip without thinking. She remembered how close you stood, how the warmth of your body practically wrapped around hers, even though you weren't touching.

And she remembered that the second she was with you, she stopped thinking about HIM.

Chad was somewhere—probably off doing some stupid drinking challenge with his teammates, yelling over a game of beer pong, flexing or showing off or whatever the hell he and his sport-obsessed friends did. But the important thing was that he wasn't here.

And Tara didn’t care.

He didn't cross her mind once. Not when you leaned in to say something against her ear, your breath warm against her skin. Not when you laughed at something she said and touched her arm, your fingers grazing her through the sleeve of her jacket. Not when your eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again, slow, deliberate.

And definitely not when she found herself tilting her head, when the alcohol made her bold enough to not overthink, when she kissed you before she could stop herself.

That part was hazy.

All she knew was that one second, you were standing close, and the next, her lips were on yours. And she didn't regret it. Not even a little.

She didn't know who pulled who. Didn't know how it had escalated so quickly. All she knew was that at some point, your fingers curled around her wrist, and she let you guide her through the crowd, past the bodies pressed together, past the couples making out in dark corners, past the booming music.

And then you were in a bedroom.

And that was where everything really started.

Tara barely remembered how you got there. One moment, the party had been a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, the heat of bodies pressing in on her from all sides.

And then, suddenly, it was just you. Just the two of you, the noise of the party fading behind a closed door, leaving nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the pounding of her pulse.

Fuck.

She should have hesitated. She should have thought about Chad. But she didn't.

Not when you were this close, your scent filling her nose—something dark and sweet, like vanilla and smoke. Not when your fingers brushed her wrist, sending a spark up her arm. Not when your gaze flickered down to her mouth like you already knew exactly what she wanted.

And then your lips were on hers, and—fuck.

It wasn't like kissing Chad. With him, it had always been easy, predictable. She knew what to expect, what it would feel like. But this? This was something else entirely. Your lips were softer, but the way you kissed her was anything but. You didn't just kiss—you took. You grabbed her, pulled her into you, kissed her like you owned her.

Tara barely even noticed when her back hit the door. Not when your hands slid beneath her top, fingers ghosting over her ribs, dragging up her sides. Not when your knee pressed between her thighs, making her suck in a sharp breath.

She had never felt like this before.

With Chad, she had always been able to keep a part of herself detached. But with you? There was no thinking. No overanalyzing. Just the sharp, intoxicating press of your body against hers, the way your mouth trailed down her jaw, her neck, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.

Her hands moved on their own, slipping beneath your blazer, pushing it off your shoulders. She barely had time to register the sound of it hitting the floor before her fingers were on the buttons of your shirt, fumbling as she pulled it open.

And then she saw you.

The smooth curve of your shoulders, the way the dim lighting cast shadows along your stomach. The black lace of your bra, barely covering your chest. She couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop wanting.

You grinned like you knew exactly what was going through her mind, and then your hands were on her thighs, gripping tight as you lifted her onto the dresser. Her legs parted without hesitation, wrapping around your waist as your lips crashed back against hers.

Tara didn't remember how her top came off, only that suddenly she was half-naked, her back pressed against the mirror, your hands roaming her body like you needed to touch every inch of her.

And then you were lowering yourself, trailing kisses down her chest, over her stomach, sinking to your knees between her thighs.

Her breath hitched.

Chad had never done this.

And when your mouth pressed against her, when your tongue flicked against her in a way that made her spine arch—

She knew.

This was what she had been craving all along.

And Tara still remembered it.

It wasn't just that it had felt good—it was the way it had felt right. The way her body had reacted to every touch, every flick of your tongue, every bite, every fucking thing you did to her like she had been waiting for it her whole life without even knowing.

She had never felt euphoric before. Never felt her limbs go weak, her head go light, her stomach twist with something dangerously close to desperation. But that night, with your hands gripping her thighs, your mouth between them, your voice murmuring something low and filthy against her skin—it was like a switch had flipped.

With Chad, it had always been just...fine. Nice, in the way that it was supposed to be.

He touched her the way a boyfriend should.

He kissed her the way a boyfriend should.

He made sure she was taken care of, in the way that a boyfriend should.

And Tara had always figured that was enough.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

It was the way you didn't just kiss her—you devoured her. Like she was something to be tasted, something to be enjoyed. It was the way your hands gripped her like you needed her closer, the way your nails dragged over her thighs, the way your tongue moved like you knew exactly how to make her fall apart.

And fuck, did she fall apart.

She had never been this loud before. She had never shaken like this, never clutched at the sheets, never let her head fall back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as you pulled every single sound out of her like you owned them.

And you did.

Because it wasn't just what you were doing—it was the way you did it. The way you looked up at her with those fucking eyes, the way you didn't stop, not even when she swore she couldn't take any more, not even when her legs trembled around your shoulders.

And when she finally did come apart, gasping your name, head thrown back, body arching, back hitting the mirror so hard she thought it might crack—she had never felt something like that before.

She knew it was wrong.

She should have felt guilty. She should have felt sick to her stomach, ashamed, horrified at what she had just done. She had Chad—sweet, loyal Chad—waiting for her somewhere downstairs, probably wondering where she had disappeared to. She had a boyfriend, and she had just—

But it didn't feel wrong.

It should have. God, it should have. She should have been scrambling for her clothes, should have been choking on regret, should have been thinking of ways to explain it away. But instead, all she could feel was the aftershocks still pulsing through her body, the ghost of your hands on her skin, the warm, lazy hum in her limbs.

It didn't feel like a mistake.

It didn't feel like something to regret.

It felt like something she had needed.

But she should have pushed you away.

She should have looked at you with disgust, should have spat out some excuse about being drunk, about making a mistake, about how this wasn’t her, about how this couldn’t happen again.

But she didn't.

Because it didn't feel like a mistake.

And when you moved closer, when your fingers trailed lazily over her bare skin, when your lips brushed against her neck as if you were inviting her to take more—to take everything—Tara didn't pull away.

Instead, before she could even think, before she could stop herself, she heard herself asking if you could do this again sometime.

The words had slipped out so easily, like she had been waiting to say them, like they had been sitting on the tip of her tongue for months, just waiting for the chance to be spoken.

And when you smirked, when you leaned in and murmured something she could barely register through the haze in her head, when your lips brushed over hers one last time before pulling away—Tara knew.

She wasn't going to stop.

She couldn’t stop.

Because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much she should have felt guilty—she wanted it. And that was the worst part.

Or maybe the worst part was that it happened again.

She should have known it would.

Because the moment she walked out of that frat house, the moment she left you behind in that bedroom, she couldn't stop thinking about you. About what had happened. About how fucking good it had felt.

She should have felt guilty.

She should have gone home, called Chad, done something to make this feel like a mistake. But instead, she laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, body still humming, hands gripping the sheets because she couldn't fucking sleep—because she wanted more.

And then, a few days later, she got a text.

meet me in ten.

No context. No explanation. Just an address and a ticking clock.

She shouldn't have gone.

But she did.

She told herself she wasn't going for that, that she just wanted to see what you had to say, that she just wanted to—fuck, she didn't know. But she found herself getting in her car anyway, her hands tightening around the wheel the closer she got.

The address you had sent led her to an empty parking lot just outside of town, the kind of place people went when they didn't want to be seen. Your car was parked in the farthest corner, backed up against a row of trees, tinted windows hiding whatever happened inside.

It was the perfect spot.

And Tara knew exactly why you had picked it.

Her heart was pounding when she parked beside you. Her body was already warm, already tingling with anticipation as she climbed into your passenger seat.

And the second you looked at her—smirking like you knew she had been thinking about this all fucking week—she realized she had been waiting for this to happen again.

That was how it started.

One meeting turned into two.

Two turned into three.

And then, before she even knew how it had happened, it became a routine.

Every Sunday.

A text. A location. Your car parked somewhere no one would find you. And then hands on skin, lips crashing together, nails dragging, teeth biting, clothes being pushed aside because neither of you ever had the patience to take them off completely.

She knew it was fucked up.

She knew it was wrong.

But that didn't stop her from showing up every damn week.

And the worst part wasn't that she was lying.

It was how she was lying.

Because of all the excuses she could have used—homework, hangouts with Mindy, anything that actually made sense—the one she found herself using the most was that she was going to church.

Fucking church.

She didn't even believe in anything. Had never been the type to sit through a sermon, had never even entertained the idea of faith, and yet—somehow—Chad never questioned it.

Maybe it was because he was just that gullible. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to suspecting her of anything. Or maybe it was because, despite knowing her for over a year, he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

Either way, every Sunday when she told him she couldn't hang out, when she said she had to go to mass, when she put on some half-assed ugh my mom’s making me go tone, he just accepted it.

Told her to have fun.

Asked her what the sermon was about later.

And Tara had to sit there, staring at her phone, trying to come up with some bullshit answer while still catching her breath.

Because she hadn't been in church.

She hadn't been in church.

She hadn't been praying.

She had been on her knees, mouth wrapped around your cocky little smirk, hands digging into your thighs. She had been moaning a name that wasn't his, head thrown back against the seat, panting like she had just run a marathon.

She had been gripping the leather interior with trembling fingers, legs wrapped around your head with the strength of metal bars, back arching so hard she thought she might snap in two.

And Chad had gone about his Sunday completely clueless.

___

"Fuck." Tara moaned, breath hitching, nails digging into your back as her head hit the window.

Like every other Sunday.

The windows were fogged up, streaked with condensation, the air inside thick with heat and the sharp scent of sweat.

The car rocked slightly with every movement, the backseat cramped but familiar, the leather sticking to her skin. It had been like this every time—fast, desperate, no hesitation.

You'd barely gotten inside before she was pulling you to the back, mouths crashing together, hands tugging at clothes, both of you too impatient to take your time.

Now, she was spread out beneath you, thighs trembling against your shoulders, fingers tangled in your hair as your tongue worked her over like you had all the time in the world.

Her skirt pushed up, undergarments long forgotten, her shirt still halfway on, bunched up under her ribs from when you'd shoved it out of the way. The feeling of your mouth on her was enough to send her spiraling, but it was the way you held her there—firm, unrelenting, like you had no plans of stopping anytime soon—that made her body shake with every flick of your tongue.

She could hear herself, the obscene wet sounds mixing with her ragged breaths, the moans she couldn't hold back no matter how hard she bit her lip. She had never sounded like this before, not with Chad, not with anyone.

It was a different kind of pleasure—overwhelming, raw, like her entire body was caught in a storm she couldn't control. Every Sunday, it was the same. You had her unraveling, melting under your touch, forgetting everything except the way you made her feel.

She didn't even realize she was grinding against your face until your grip tightened on her thighs, holding her still as you sucked at her clit just right. Her back arched, a sharp cry spilling from her lips, her mind blanking completely. Fuck. She was close. Already. Again. It was always like this with you.

And Chad had no idea.

Tara's head tilted back, lips parting, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "Oh my—fuck, just like that—" Her voice broke around the words, half a moan, half a plea.

She could barely think, her mind slipping into static, body tightening under your touch. Every drag of your tongue sent another pulse of pleasure through her, her hands fisting the fabric of your jacket like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

The air was thick, heavy, carrying the sound of her moans, the quiet creak of the leather beneath her, the wet, obscene noises of your mouth working her over.

It should've been embarrassing—the way she was falling apart so quickly, the way she could already feel the heat coiling in her stomach, twisting tighter and tighter—but it wasn't. Not with you.

Your grip on her thighs tightened as you hummed against her, and Tara nearly lost it. A broken cry ripped from her throat, her body jerking, hips bucking up against your face. "Oh, shit—" Her fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, one slipping into your hair, gripping tight. "Don't stop—don't—"

Like you ever would.

She felt the way you smirked against her, cocky as ever, before your tongue flicked over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes that had her whimpering, her legs shaking. "Jesus, you're so—fuck." Her voice was wrecked, raw, words tumbling out before she could stop them.

She wanted to say something more—something coherent—but the way you sucked at her clit, the way your nails dug into her hips, the way she could already feel herself spiraling again—

She was gone.

Tara came with a strangled moan, her whole body tensing, back arching, thighs tightening around your head like she never wanted to let go. Her hands gripped your hair, pulling, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless, trembling. Her head lolled back against the window, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.

And then she felt it—your hands smoothing over her thighs, your mouth pulling away, your breath warm against her skin. She forced her eyes open, still hazy, only to be met with your gaze—dark, intense, that fucking smirk tugging at your lips. Like you knew exactly what you'd just done to her.

But you weren't judging.

You just watched her, taking in the way she was still trying to recover, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her skin was flushed. Then, slowly, you dragged your hands down her legs, prying them from where they were still locked around you, letting them fall slack against the leather seat.

"So," you mused, voice low, teasing. "What excuse did you use this time?"

Tara bit her lip, still catching her breath, her fingers twitching against the seat as she let out a shaky little laugh. "Would you believe me if I said shopping?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

Shopping. That had been the excuse this time. And for a moment, Chad had actually questioned it—had cocked his head, confused, when she told him she was heading out alone. Shopping wasn't really her thing, at least not solo. But then he just shrugged, distracted by something on his phone, and that was that. No suspicion, no follow-up questions.

Tara had almost felt guilty for how easy it was. Almost.

She should have felt guilty now, too—sitting there, legs still weak, skin still flushed, while you smirked at her like you knew exactly how ruined she was.

But the moment she saw you shift, reaching for your bag, zipping it open with a deliberate slowness, guilt was the last thing on her mind.

"Well," you murmured, pulling something from inside, "I've done some shopping."

Tara's breath caught when she saw what it was.

A strap.

It was sleek, black, and bigger than Chad's actual one—noticeably so.

Tara swallowed. You and she had talked about this before. The first time you brought it up, she had barely hesitated before agreeing, because she had been sure—certain—that the whole P in V thing would be different with you. Better. More enjoyable. And after everything else you'd done to her, she had no doubt about that.

Still, she found herself shifting in place, heart picking up, torn between excitement and nerves. She hadn't done this with you before. Hadn't done this with any girl before. But fuck—just the sight of it, the thought of it, had heat curling low in her stomach all over again.

Tara gulped, eyes locked on the strap, but her mind was already ahead—already picturing it all before it even happened. How it would feel. How you would feel.

You didn't move yet. Just scanned her face, like you were waiting for some hesitation, some sign that she would be scared off. But she wasn't. She couldn't be.

Your smirk deepened, head tilting just slightly, the unspoken question clear in your eyes—want to?

Tara nodded. Too fast. Too desperate. She knew that. But she did.

So she moved without thinking, shifting onto all fours, her knees pressing into the worn leather of the backseat. Her back arched slightly, her hands splayed out in front of her as she tried to steady herself, breathing uneven.

Behind her, she could hear you—hear the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of buckles being adjusted, the quiet exhale you let out as you fit the strap into place. Then the warmth of your hand running down her back, over her hips, fingers brushing between her thighs before you paused.

Her stomach tensed at the thought. At the thought.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists where they rested against the seat. Then your hands were on her again—trailing down her spine, over the curve of her hips, fingertips brushing against her thighs, teasing her. She shuddered at the touch, hips rolling back instinctively, already seeking more.

You let out a quiet chuckle, low and teasing, before pressing yourself against her, letting her feel the weight of it. She sucked in a breath, her entire body tightening at the sensation alone.

You asked if she was ready.

She barely managed to whisper yes before you pushed in.

Her mouth fell open, a sharp, broken sound leaving her as her body stretched around you. Her arms nearly gave out beneath her, and her head dropped forward, forehead pressing against the window.

It was almost like the pleasure rushed straight to her eyes, like it was so intense she couldn't even see for a moment—just a wave of heat, of pressure, of something she had never felt before.

The first thrust was slow, teasing, like you were letting her feel every inch of it before pulling back just as carefully. Even that had her sucking in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the seat beneath her.

The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming in a way she hadn't expected. It was nothing like before. It was so much more. And when you did it again, thrusting just a little deeper, just a little harder, a gasp tore from her lips.

You didn't stop. Your hips snapped forward again, finding a rhythm that was steady but deep, every push forcing her further into the seat. The car rocked just slightly with each movement, the damp heat of the space making every sensation ten times more intense. The sounds of it—of skin meeting skin, of wet, filthy noises between her legs—filled her ears, mixed with the ragged breaths leaving both of you.

And the moans.

Tara bit her lip, trying to quiet herself, but it was impossible. A moan ripped from her throat as you hit a spot that made her whole body jolt, the muscles in her stomach tensing. Her head tipped forward, forehead pressing harder into the window, fogging it up even more. It was getting harder to hold herself up, her arms already trembling from the effort of staying up on all fours, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Not when you sounded like that.

The breathy little grunts leaving your lips—low and raspy, like you were getting just as lost in it as she was—made something coil tight in her stomach. She wished she could see you. She tried to picture your face behind her, how your brows must've been furrowed, how your mouth was probably open, panting, the way your jaw clenched every time she clenched around you.

"Jesus—" The word came out of her before she could stop it, breathless and desperate, her voice shaking. She felt you smirk against her back, your lips ghosting over her spine before nipping at her shoulder, sending a shiver down her body.

"What's wrong, baby?" you murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

Tara's breath hitched.

It wasn't just what you said. It was how you said it—so low, so full of amusement, like you knew exactly what you were doing to her, like you loved watching her fall apart beneath you. And baby. Fuck, she hadn't expected that. The way it sounded coming from your mouth—rough, teasing, possessive—sent heat surging through her body.

She whimpered, fingers clawing at the seat. Her hips rolled back against you, desperate, wordlessly begging for more.

Then.

A buzzing cut through the thick air, sharp and insistent, demanding attention.

Tara barely registered it at first, still too caught up in the aftershocks of everything—her heavy breathing, the way her body still pulsed around you, the lingering heat of your hands gripping her hips. But then you stopped moving, and her moan died in her throat, leaving only the sound of her own ragged breaths and that damn vibration filling the car.

Then she turned her head slightly, trying to glance back at you.

You didn't look worried. Not even a little. If anything, you looked amused. Your eyes gleamed with something dark, something teasing, as you tilted your head toward the phone in a silent suggestion. Check it.

Tara swallowed. Her whole body felt hot, sweat sticking to her skin, thighs still twitching around you. The last thing she wanted to do was answer her phone right now, but the vibrating didn't stop. Whoever it was, they weren't giving up.

She exhaled sharply, adjusting her weight on her knees before reaching forward, stretching as far as she could without moving off of you. It wasn't easy. Her back arched deeper, pushing her against you even more, making her even more aware of where you still were, thick and unmoving inside her.

She tried to keep quiet, to focus, but the angle sent a wave of pressure through her core, and a quiet, breathy moan slipped out before she could stop it.

She clenched her jaw, swallowing hard, and finally grasped the phone. Her fingers were slick with sweat, struggling to get a grip as she flipped it over in her palm. She held it tightly, worried it might slip right out of her hand with how weak she felt.

Her breath was uneven as she turned the screen over, eyes flicking to the caller ID.

Her stomach dropped.

Chad.

Tara's grip on the phone tightened as she stared at Chad's name on the screen, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Her first thought was that she couldn't possibly answer. There was no way. Not like this—shaky, breathless, body still stretched and filled, the heat of you pressing against her skin. She wasn't even sure if she could form a coherent sentence right now, let alone talk to Chad without him immediately knowing something was off.

Slowly, as if in a daze, she tilted the phone just slightly so you could see.

Your gaze flicked down, taking in the name without any hint of concern, and Tara swore she saw the corner of your mouth twitch up like you were actually enjoying this. Like it amused you how completely fucked she was in this moment.

She gulped, feeling her breath hitch, fingers twitching around the device. Her mind spun, spiraling into every possible excuse she could come up with, every reason she had to not answer. Maybe she could just ignore it—say she was busy, say she didn't hear it, say her phone died. He wouldn't suspect anything, right? He never did. He never even—

Your voice cut through her thoughts, low and smooth. "Answer it."

Tara's breath caught in her throat. She blinked, eyes snapping to you, like she wasn't sure she'd heard you right. "What?"

Your smirk deepened. You leaned in, just enough for her to feel your breath ghost over her shoulder. And then, slower this time—deliberate, teasing, dripping with amusement—you repeated, "Answer the phone."

Her body tensed. Her stomach flipped. Her throat felt like it had closed up completely. There was no way. She shook her head, already stammering, "I—I can't—"

But before she could even finish, you gripped her hips and pulled her back onto the strap, burying yourself deeper with one swift motion.

Tara choked on a loud, surprised moan, her body jolting, the phone nearly slipping from her fingers.

She barely had a second to recover before your voice came again, low and firm and completely in control.

"Answer him, Tara."

So she did.

Because she couldn't say no to you—not when you made her feel like this. Not when her whole body was on fire, every nerve ignited, pulsing with heat. Not when you fucked her like you did, when you had her melting into every single touch, when you knew exactly how to make her fall apart.

Her finger shook as it hovered over the screen, hesitation tightening in her chest. But then, with a sharp inhale, she slid her thumb across to accept the call, bringing the phone up to her ear.

The device was warm, heated from the stuffy air in the car, and when it pressed against her flushed skin, she felt the contrast—felt just how overheated she was, how wrecked she already looked. Her breath wavered as she tried to pull herself together, forcing a swallow past the lump in her throat.

Then, as steadily as she could manage—sweet, happy, normal—she breathed out a soft, "Hi, baby."

It almost sounded real. Almost. If not for the slight tremble in her voice, the way it wavered at the edges, betraying her.

Chad didn't seem to notice. "Hey, babe," he greeted easily, his voice light and casual. "You still at the mall? They're closing soon, just wondering when you're heading back."

Tara's stomach twisted. Still at the mall. She barely stopped herself from laughing at the irony. She hadn't been anywhere near the mall. She hadn't been walking around all day, hadn't spent the afternoon wandering stores, browsing through clothes, or carrying shopping bags.

No, she'd spent it in your lap. On her back, on her knees, on all fours. She'd spent it with your hands all over her, your mouth on her, making her come over and over again until her legs had trembled and she thought she might actually black out from the intensity of it.

Chad kept talking, completely oblivious. "Mindy and Anika are having a movie night. Thought we could go, but if you're too tired from walking around all day, I get it."

Tara parted her lips, just about to answer—

And then you moved.

Her breath hitched violently as you pushed back inside her, slow but deep, making her grip the phone tighter. Her eyes fluttered, jaw clenching as she struggled not to react.

You weren't done with her. Not even close.

Her head dipped forward, eyes squeezing shut as you dragged out again, the pace torturously slow. She could hear it, could hear how wet she was, how easily you moved inside her, and the realization sent another wave of heat crashing through her body.

She started nodding—at nothing, at Chad's words, at whatever he was saying—just to distract herself. Just to have something to focus on besides the way you were ruining her.

But then you picked up the pace.

Faster. Harder.

Tara's breathing grew heavier, her mouth falling open as her fingers gripped the phone like a lifeline.

Chad finished talking, clearly waiting for a response.

She gulped, trying to focus, trying so hard to make her voice sound normal.

"Y-yeah, uhm—"

Her breath caught, her body jerking as you rolled your hips just right. She had to bite her lip—hard—to keep herself from making a sound.

You weren't making it easy.

You were deep, hitting the perfect spot every single time, making her entire body feel like it was burning.

Her lips trembled, fingers tightening around the phone as she struggled to push out the words. "I'd—" she inhaled sharply, voice breaking, "—I'd love to go."

Her thighs twitched. She tried so hard to keep herself still, to not move against you, to not push back for more.

She could feel your smirk. Could practically hear the amusement in the way you exhaled through your nose, in the way you didn't stop, didn't slow down.

She sucked in another shaky breath.

"I—" she panted, each syllable shaky, "I'm leaving soon. I'll—" her voice hitched again as you thrust just right, "—I'll text you when I-I'm done."

There was a short pause before Chad's voice came through again, casual, completely unaware.

"Why are you so out of breath?"

Tara's heart practically stopped.

She had to think fast. Her brain scrambled for something, anything, that would make sense, that would explain why she sounded like this.

"I—" her voice wavered, still breathless, "I'm just—trying to make it to Nordstrom before they close."

The lie slipped out before she could even process it.

And the worst part?

He fucking believed it.

"Alright," he said, not suspicious at all. Not even a little. "Just text me when you're on your way home."

Tara could barely focus, barely even hear him over the pounding of her own heart.

And then—then—he added it. The three words she'd been waiting for, dreading, knowing it was coming.

"I love you."

Tara squeezed her eyes shut. "I love you too," she panted out, forcing the words past her lips, rushing to get it over with—

But then you thrust forward. Hard.

So fucking hard.

A sharp cry ripped from her throat before she could stop it, before she could even think. It wasn't just a moan—it was loud, raw, completely unfiltered, and so obviously not the sound of someone running through a mall.

Her eyes flew open, her whole body freezing as panic crashed over her like a wave.

Oh, fuck.

Her mouth hung open, heart hammering, hands clenching around the phone. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"What the fuck was that?" He let out a small laugh. Not mad. Not suspicious. Just genuinely confused.

Tara's stomach twisted.

She could feel your breath against her skin. Could feel the way you stilled, the way you were watching her, waiting to see what she'd say.

Her brain was a fucking mess, completely scrambled, thoughts running too fast, too panicked.

She had to fix this.

Quickly, she squeezed her eyes shut again. "I stubbed my toe," she rushed out, her voice tight, breathless. Then she forced out a hiss through her teeth, as if to sell it. "Fuck, that hurt."

Chad chuckled on the other end of the line, that same stupid little laugh of his that made Tara's stomach twist. Completely oblivious. Completely unaware of what was happening, what had been happening for weeks now. "God, babe, you're so clumsy."

Tara barely managed to force out a weak "Mhm." It was all she could get out without completely giving herself away.

But the truth was, that sound wasn't for him.

It was for you.

Because she was desperate.

And she needed you to keep going.

She was so fucking close—every muscle in her body was tensed, her thighs trembling where they pressed against the leather seats, her breath coming out in shallow little gasps as she tried to keep some level of composure. And you knew it. You fucking knew it.

She felt the way your hands flexed against her waist, felt the teasing drag of your fingertips as they traced up her stomach, slow, calculated, making her shiver. Felt the way your hips barely moved now, holding back, waiting, making her want to fucking scream.

She wasn't going to make it if Chad kept talking.

Her jaw clenched, and she could already feel herself slipping, feel the heat pooling lower, spreading through her entire body. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and she couldn't be on the phone with Chad when she came.

Her fingers gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, the screen slick against her sweaty palm. She couldn't even register what Chad was saying anymore, his voice a distant, meaningless hum in the background.

"Well, alright," he finally said, sounding distracted, like he was half paying attention, "just hurry up before they start the movie without us."

You shifted behind her, your fingers pressing just a little harder against her burning skin, and Tara's breath hitched.

She couldn't do this anymore.

Her voice came out rushed, breathless, almost strained—"Yeah, I will—bye."

She fumbled with the phone, barely managing to end the call before her entire body gave out, slumping forward onto her forearms as she let out a shaking exhale.

And then, the second the call disconnected, you slammed into her again.

Her forehead pressed against the window as she let out a choked gasp, her entire body trembling. She was so fucking close—so close she could taste it, feel it in every inch of her, her thighs burning, her back arching as she tried to push herself back against you.

She wasn't even thinking anymore. Couldn't think.

Not with how fucking deep you were, how perfectly you hit every spot inside her that had her toes curling and her fingers twitching uselessly against the seat.

She felt your hands tighten around her hips, grounding her, holding her exactly where you wanted her. And then—

"Good job, baby."

Tara's breath stuttered.

"You did so good."

And that—that was the last straw.

Her entire body tensed, pleasure hitting her so hard it nearly knocked the air from her lungs. And then she broke.

She came with a loud, uncontrollable moan, her back arching, her arms giving out beneath her. The orgasm ripped through her in wave after wave of unbearable pleasure, leaving her shaking, gasping, crying out as you kept going, dragging it out, making it last until she couldn't even fucking breathe.

The car was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. Tara felt like she could still hear the blood rushing through her ears, her body tingling in the aftermath. She barely registered the feeling of you pulling out until the loss of contact made her whimper slightly, her legs trembling as she collapsed fully onto the seat beneath her.

Her arms felt weak. Her thighs burned. And her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. You weren't much better, panting as you sat back, but fuck—Tara was completely spent.

Still, she did what she always did. Without a word, she forced herself to sit up on shaking arms and began fixing her clothes, her fingers clumsily pulling her underwear back up, straightening her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. She was still flushed, her skin still burning, and her hair was an absolute mess, but at least she didn't look completely wrecked.

You watched her, an amused glint in your eyes, and then, just as she was running her fingers through her tangled hair, you smirked.

"How's that toe you stubbed?"

Tara froze for a second, then let out a breathless laugh, rolling her eyes as she shoved you lightly. "Fuck you," she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it—just the kind of teasing exasperation that made you grin wider.

She reached down, grabbing her shoes from where they had ended up discarded on the floor. She slipped them on, lacing up her white Converse with slightly shaky fingers. When she was done, she glanced back at you, hesitating for just a second before pushing open the car door.

The cool night air hit her instantly, and she took a deep breath, stepping out onto the pavement. But before she shut the door, she turned back around, looking at you over her shoulder.

"Next Sunday?"

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you met her gaze.

"Next Sunday."

And with that, she shut the door and walked away.

[hanniescookie]

are you bald yet? - yjh

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - fluff, established relationship, idol au, 250316 jeonghan and that's a warning, tiny bit suggestive, mentions of showering together, use of petnames, kissing, reader is a simp for jeonghan (so are we all), not proofread

word count - 1K

summary - you come home to find through the internet that your boyfriend is apparently bald.

author's note - i took a nap bcs i was exhausted from screaming over this jeonghan and when i woke up @wonkierideul asked me to do smth about this haired jh SO HERE IT IS!!! this is also for my fav hannie stan @kissbyoon bcs we'll both forever remember just how crazy 250316 jeonghan made us 😣😣😣

---------------------------**~**-------------------------

You blinked at your phone with your mouth agape as the fan taken video played on the screen. Your heart jumped to your throat, and you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

There was no way your boyfriend was bald.

Especially not without you knowing.

You knew he was going to meet Soonyoung and Jihoon, and that he had dinner with Cheol. You knew he was going to come home to you after that. But he did not mention shaving his head off even once.

The more you squinted at the low quality video, the more you died a little inside.

Jeonghan knew how much you loved his hair and how happy you were when he didn't have to shave it all off. But now, it made sense because he had to go for basic military training. He could have shaved his head.

Why would he not tell you, though? You were beyond mad. You wanted to be prepared for the sight. He even promised you he’d let you shave it all off if he ever had to.

Now he couldn't just show up to your apartment without a strand of his pretty hair on his head.

You were going to cry.

You dialed his contact in a hurry, your teeth gritted as the phone rang.

“Are you not asleep yet, love?” His voice met your ears through the phone, and it was so sweet that you almost melted. Almost. Not entirely.

“Where are you?” You asked, your tone dangerously low and the line went silent for a while. You almost thought he ended the call, but then his voice came, still as soft as cotton. “I'm on my way back. Is something wrong?”

You shut your eyes, trying to contain your frustration but failing at it. “First, you spend your whole damn day off with Cheol as if he's your girlfriend, then you don't even call me once in the last four hours, and then you go bald without even telling me?! Really Jeonghan?!”

There was silence on the other end again before you heard his soft laughter. It took you a few seconds to realize that the sound of his laughter was not just coming from your phone.

Your head whipped to the door of your bedroom where he was standing with a shit-eating grin on his face.

His head was covered with his hood, and you couldn't help melting on the spot this time. Any thoughts of his hair or his day not spent with you flew out of the window when he walked closer to the edge of your bed and opened his arms.

You jumped into his embrace, melting in his warmth that you missed beyond your own comprehension. It had been long since you both had time for each other, and with his service it was even harder.

His arms wrapped around you firmly, and you could feel him smile as he pressed a few kisses in your neck. “I spent the day with Seungcheol because you were busy and I needed company. I didn't call you in the last four hours because you told me you were at a team dinner,” he paused, pulling away to see the pout on your face before continuing as he pulled the hood off his head. “And I'm not bald.”

You gasped, backing away from him a little to properly examine his new look. It made your jaw drop to the floor.

“You—”

He rubbed the side of his neck with his palm sheepishly, his smile turning hesitant. “The boys said I look more manly. What do you think?”

It had been long since you were dating Jeonghan, yet you felt your heart beat in your throat at the sight of him. “Wow— you… you look so hot, hannie. I'm not even kidding.”

Any hesitation he had on his face flew right out of the window. He smirked slightly, adjusting his spectacles. “Really, baby? You think so?”

You sighed, not really believing how attractive he looked. You loved his long hair so much, and you always asked him to not cut it short. But right now, you felt a little too feral, and a little too lucky to have him all to yourself.

“Oh God I need to kiss you right now, come here,” you took a step close to him but he laughed and stepped back. “No no! I need to shower first. I stink, and I didn't want to hug you like this too, but I couldn't resist. Now let me wash up first. Be nice and wait for me, yeah?”

You looked at him astonished as he grabbed his spare clothes from your closet. You wished you could smack him right across his beautiful face. “Jeonghan. It's not fair how you always make me chase you, you know?”

He bit his lip, a mischievous grin spreading on his face. “I'm not making you chase me, love. You wouldn't like kissing your stinky boyfriend. It's for your good.”

You whined. “You're not stinky! You smell like yourself! Cotton candy and marshmallows and—”

You paused when you felt his lips against yours, warm and soft as he briefly kissed you. He giggled against your mouth, pausing to take off his spectacles. “Do you think you'll be fine if we shower together after this?”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, cheeks reddening slightly as you nodded. “Yes because you're too hot right now for me to let you go.”

“Yet you said I smell like cotton candy and marshmallows.”

You giggled, running your hand on his extremely short hair. “Good lord, hannie how in the world do you look so good?”

He laughed, hugging you tighter against him. “Stop this or I'll call you a simp.”

“I am a simp.”

“You stopped me from showering to kiss me. Where did that go?” He looked at you, his eyes narrowed in disappointment. You smiled innocently. “I'll do a lot more than just kissing, baby. Are you fine with that?”

“As long as you shower with me later.”

Your lips found his within an instant.

---------------------------**~**-------------------------

[fairykukla]

Ok, here's a thought I've been thinking lately.

I'm 50 years old. I've watched, in real time, as Autism diagnosis and public perception has shifted over the years.

So for my Internet kids and grandkids, here's the deal:

Austism used to be a word that was whispered. It was like a death sentence. People with autism were shuffled away into care facilities or, like, still stuck in attics or something. If you knew someone with an autistic person in their life, the socially correct response was pity. "You poor thing, your child is autistic. What a burden. I'm so sorry."

Gradually, awareness started to happen. We got Rainman and Bill For Short. We also started to see diagnosis for hyperactivity, or ADHD, but those were kids (and mostly boys) who were disruptive, and were given heavy medications to calm them down.

But these were still situations where pity is given to the caregivers, and the people with autism or ADD were still stuck with "Be traumatized/medicated into masking disruptive behavior" or "Shuffled away into special schools/cate facilities."

Then we started to see more awareness. People in the spectrum started to speak up and speak out. There was still lots of stigma, but now it was more like, "Oh, your kid has Autism, but it's not AUTISM-autism, it's just Asperger's? Well thank God. You poor thing."

These stigmas are still in play. People still react with pity for caregivers and scorn for people on the spectrum.

Despite better and better understanding of autism, despite more and better language to discuss it, despite all the awareness being raised, that stigma is still around, baked into our culture.

This is part of the cognitive dissonance around "Hey, fellow adult friend? Do you think that I could be ... Autistic?" And they look worried, or cringe when you say, "Yeah, I could see that."

That person is fearful. They're shocked. They may be wrestling with The Horrors about it. For many of us who have worked out on our own that we are neurodivergent, whether through formal diagnosis or having the "Ah-Ha!" Moment with a self diagnostic tool, it can seem weird that someone is freaking out when they're faced with a similar situation.

Listen. I was a Weird Kid(tm). I was having SEVERE issues in school despite my high IQ and having two teachers as parents. In 1981 or so, the answer was that I had an "unspecified childhood neurosis" and a general anxiety disorder, that would later get the moniker "School Anxiety." I was not given meds, but I was given 5 years of talk therapy with a child psychiatrist.

As an adult, after a few years of thinking that I fit the profile for ADHD, my mom gave me all my paperwork from my childhood. (Immunizations, school records, and the like.) In that paperwork I found my evaluations from the early 80s. I had criteria I didn't even know about, and let me tell you; I'm in the AUDHD spectrum somewhere. My youngest cousin got her diagnosis early, but she was born when I was 33.

And then my father got his. My brother came to me in horrified shock. "Kukla, did you know that our father has autism?!?"

And I laughed. "Uh, yeah. Didn't you figure out that half the rules in our house growing up were to manage his sensory issues? Isn't it his dream to go disappear into the woods somewhere? Weren't you the one who calls it "Socializing with Papa" when you do tasks in the same space without talking to each other for a few hours? BRO HES A MATH TEACHER WHO BOUGHT A HOUSE NEXT TO A TRAIN TRACK AND COLLECTS MAPS."

But. I was the one who had five years of really excellent therapy to come to terms with being a weird kid. To take power from my weirdness, to use it as both sword and shield. To defeat the rejection sensitivity dysphoria, or at least mitigate its effects. (Now I just come across as an arrogant know it all. And I'm comfortable with that.) I live on the island of misfit toys, and they made me their goddess. Most of the people who are close to me are not neurotypical, and I don't just mean "the spectrum."

My brother is probably neurotypical... Apart from the dyslexia. He Plays The Sports. He does Bro things. His inner circle of friends and found family are "mundanes." He doesn't talk to autistic people everyday, or *thinks* that he doesn't talk to autistic people every day. So, for him, he found out that our father got diagnosed with Autism and freaked the fuck out.

So I say unto my fellow Tumblr gremlins, goblins, racoons, and misfit toys: be gentle with the newbies. If you see someone struggling about it just be nice to them.

They're expecting pity. Or scorn.

Don't give it to them.

Dance around and naruto-run and invite them to play, too. Teach them how to find their happy stim.

It is hard. But we can also be joyful. And we should.

[thewidowsledger]

Do You Know What Today Is?

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Fire Department Captain!Romanoff x Lieutenant!Female Reader

Word count: 4k

Tags | Warnings: Angst, fluff, death, dirty talk (lots of it), sexual innuendos, sending nudes, you and Nat are just horny shits, talks about having kids

Author's Note: Next fic to be updated next week will be the mob boss series :)))

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

"I love you." She says in the line, it was static but it was all clear to you.

"You tell me that in person." You said, you held the words so you could say it to her in person but it was like an instinct to you to reply back, "I love you more."

"No, I love you more." Her voice came through, softer this time, almost vulnerable.

⧗

Natasha's voice on the other end of the phone was like a soft caress, sending tingles down your spine. Even though she was just kilometers away, the connection you shared was palpable, and you could almost see and feel her smiling through the phone.

"Hi baby," she cooed, her voice warm and intimate. "Do you know what today is?"

Still sleepy and grumpy, you managed to say a quick "no."

She gasped in shock, feeling offended before letting out a whine, like a small child pouting over a secret. "Huuuuh? Whaaat? No idea?"

Eyes still closed, you couldn't help but smile and chuckle, relishing in her cute behavior. You feigned ignorance, playing along with the game you started. "No idea at all, baby. I'm sorry."

She let out a "nooooo" drawn out long and whiney, like a toddler having a tantrum. It was almost comical how childlike she sounded. You couldn't help but burst out laughing over the line, the sound loud and clear in Natasha's ears. It was adorable, the way she was acting like a child, whining and pouting.

"That doesn't sound like my captain," you chided, "and that is definitely not how you sounded last night."

Natasha's whining quickly changed, now with a smirk behind it even you cannot see her face to face, you know that it is what's plastered in her face. "Well, as far as I can recall, it was not me who was whining and crying last night."

Now there she is.

"Oh yeah?" You couldn't help but challenge her, a hint of cockiness in your voice as you shifted in your cold bed, missing your girlfriend's warmth.

"Sorry for leaving you this morning," she sighs, "Work called me early." You didn't miss the groan that she let out after.

"You should've woken me up, Nat. I would've gone with you." You say hazily, still sleepy but you managed to get yourself out of the bed, leaving your phone on top of the duvet covers.

"I don't wanna wake you up, princess. And besides you have a shift in your station today, so rest. But I'll see you later," she smiles and you can feel it, "if you remember what today is." She adds.

"Maybe I need some reminding, captain." You let out a long hum and Natasha's keen instincts picked up on that.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

"Just tryin' to remember…"

"Baby," her voice was undeniably soft and careful in the line, but there was a hint of something darker and more authoritative beneath the surface of that pet name. The tone was subtle, but you knew that it was a warning.

"Yes..? Captain?"

"Baby…" now her tone became dangerously low. "Open your cam." She demanded.

You wanted to laugh as you stood in front of your shared cabinet to get yourself something to wear, but you didn't so she wouldn't suspect a thing. You remained silent and your girlfriend seemed to be really impatient.

"Y/N? I swear to God."

Still, no answers from your end. Then, you let out a moan and a gasp after, then your breath hitched as another fake moan escaped your lips. The sound of your ragged breath filled the line, and you could sense your girlfriend's tension through the phone. She was silent on her line, her jaw clenched, and you could tell she was listening intently. You fought the urge to laugh.

"You know I can tell if you're faking your moans, right?" She could tell you were just playing with her, but she couldn't help but respond to the provocative sounds you were making.

The laughs you have been keeping now escaped your lips, and it echoed through the line, filling your shared room and her ears with the sound. You couldn't help but find it amusing, of course she would immediately know if you're faking your moans having to have nightly routines ending up with you either whining because it's not enough or crying because it's too much. Sometimes, it's both and God, you love those nights.

You took your phone in your hand and quickly opened the camera, flipping the camera to the front-facing mode. You held the phone up in front of your face, grinning shyly into it.

"Hi," you say softly, gently biting down on your bottom lip as you look directly into the camera.

Her voice came through the line, "Hey, printsessa," and her tone was tinged with so much affection.

"I miss you already, baby. So much." You pout slightly as you start to go back and gather the clothes you chose to wear for the day.

"I miss you too."

"I'll visit your work today."

Before your girlfriend could even reply, her co-workers appeared, their voices loud and boisterous through the phone.

"Hey, cap! We bought you some breakfast!" The youngest, Peter announced, holding a tray of coffee and donuts.

You noticed that your girlfriend's attention is already divided, not that you don't like it, but today, you feel like edging, playing…and not sharing her. She was not looking at you, she was smiling at your co-workers as she reached for the food they brought her, and by her angle you could tell that her phone was clutched on her left hand.

"Baby, don't let your phone slip up, I'm naked."

You didn't miss the way your girlfriend mouthed a "fuck," immediately thanking her team and ordering them to get out. But before she could even check her phone to finally focus her attention on you, the call had already ended. She didn't know if it was her accidentally ending the call or it was you. So she checked your private chat to see you sending her a photo, scrunching your nose and teasing the skin just above your nipples.

Lieutenant (You): Hi baby, gonna shower now. I'll go to your station today. I just don't want to have to share your attention…

Captain (Natasha): Baby, I'm here☹️

You: Aww, I was about to let you join me in the shower but I see you're going to have different breakfast.

Natasha: You know you're my favorite breakfast, right?

You: Oh, yeah?

Natasha: Baby, don't be like that please…☹️

You: I'm sorry baby😂 I was just playing. I'll drop by later and bring you lunch, what do you wanna eat?

Natasha: You☹️

You: You cute silly pervert, bye now for real. I love you and I will see you later, xo.

Natasha: I love you moreeeee, my babiecakes!

You: I love you mooooost, my beautiful beautiful hot girlfriend❤️💞

Natasha: Nou, I love you more than most☹️

You: Do you love me more or do I love you more?

Natasha: You love me more…☹️

You: Good girl💞

[Lieutenant sent an attachment]

⧗

You pulled up to the fire station, parking your car near the entrance. As soon as Natasha's co-workers noticed your pick-up, they immediately made their way towards you, their faces lighting up with anticipation. They knew you had a reputation for bringing takeouts for the team, and he was eager to see what you had brought this time.

You gestured to the back of your car, shouting, "I bought you all some lunch!" The others swarmed over enthusiastically, heading straight for the food. Peter, on the other hand, made a beeline straight for the driver's seat.

"Hi LT! Thank you so much for the food!" You couldn't help but find him endearing, he was the youngest among the bunch and there's one time you jokingly told Natasha that you were thinking of adopting him after seeing him cry rescuing a cat stuck on a fence.

"You're welcome, kid. Where's cap?" you inquired as you gathered the food you'd bought for Natasha from the passenger seat.

"Office." He grins, already jumping his way to your trunk to see what you bought for them.

The team surrounded the trunk of your car. As you held a whole lot of stuff in your hands, you managed to wave your fingers back at them, all while holding your phone, wallet, and girlfriend's takeaway. The team shouted words of gratitude, waving back at you as they devoured the food you had so kindly ordered for them.

"You're spoiling them." She remarks, looking at you with amusement and mild chiding as soon as you enter her office as if she's been expecting you to be there which she actually is.

"They're my kids now, you like it or not."

"What's that for?" she pointed at the takeout you were carrying which was her favorite boneless sweet and sour chicken.

"Lunch?" you laughed, before putting your things down her desk. You leaned towards her and kissed her lips.

"I thought I am going to have you for lunch? I was spoiled on what would my lunch be with that photo you sent me." Natasha leaned back in her seat, a smirk playing across her lips as she watched you round her desk. It was a mirror shot of you with your exposed boobs, just for her eyes to see.

You moved swiftly, slapping her shoulder before she could react. You were behind her, your hands massaging the spot you'd just struck. Her posture relaxed slightly under your skilled fingers, a soft sigh escaping her lips despite herself. She cocked an eyebrow, glancing back at you over her shoulder.

"Remind me never to piss off a woman who can rub the tension out of my shoulders in seconds."

Her breath caught as you leaned in close, your weight pressing softly against her back. Your arm remained across her front, effectively trapping her. She could feel your heartbeat against her spine, steady and strong despite the chair slat that boundaries you both.

"I missed you," you pout, then you pressed a kiss on her ears and her cheek.

"Me too," she then caressed your cheek, "I'm hungry," she now declared. And you immediately straightened up to prepare the lunch you bought for her. Before you could even take a step away, she slapped your ass sharply.

"What are you doing?" she snapped playfully.

"Okay, eat real food you pervert." You point your finger at her, walking backwards before she could even sneak up and grab you behind. But she stood and snatched your hand and pulled you to her lap.

You let out a shriek of surprise, your hands instinctively gripping the arms of her chair for support. She smirked, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place. You wiggled on her lap, making her tighten her arms around you. Suddenly, you brought your hand up and smacked her chest playfully.

"Jerk," you muttered, trying not to laugh. Her eyes widened, then she caught your wrist, bringing your hand back down slowly. Then, she leaned in, resting her jaw on your shoulder. Her arms remained wrapped protectively around you, holding you close. You could feel her breath against your neck, warm and gentle. For a moment, she just sat there, enjoying the simple comfort of having you in her lap.

"Do you want kids?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. She rested her chin on your shoulder, awaiting your response. Her arms tightened slightly around you, almost as if she was bracing herself for your answer. "Real kids, okay? Normal ones. Not those big assed kids outside." She gestured vaguely towards the door with a roll of her eyes, eliciting a soft chuckle from you both.

Your body relaxed against hers, your arm clung behind her neck, "Yeah, I want kids," you answered. "Like two or three. Not too many, though. I don't want my house to be chaotic." You wiggled slightly on her lap, making her smirk again. "What about you?"

"Of course I want a…" she trailed off puckering her lower lip, thinking, "At least four mini you running around the house, so I have someone to be chaotic with," she laughed softly, then added teasingly, "God help me if they have your mouth too."

You gasped genuinely offended, your hand flying to your chest. "I am not that loud!" you protest. "I hate you." You tried to unclasped her tight hands that were gripping each other, locking you in her embrace but she just laughed heartily.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry!" she apologized between laughs.

"I will not give you my babies." You threatened. "And four?! Are you kidding me?!" Oh, how many kids your girlfriend wanted you will give it to her even if she wanted an entire football team.

Natasha choked on her laughter, her eyes widening in mock horror at your threat. "Whoa, whoa, no need to withhold my future children just because I teased you a little." You just rolled your eyes on her, turning your face away. She leaned in, nuzzling your neck gently. "Come on, you know I'm just messing with you," she cooed softly. "Besides, who else is going to give me those adorable mini-me's if not you?" She kissed your cheek again, trying to soften your resolve.

You sighed dramatically, your stern expression crumbling. "Fine, fine! I'll give you your stupid cute mini-me's," you muttered, trying not to smile. Inside, you were secretly delighted that she wanted your children so badly as much as you wanted hers.

"Did you see the dress I bought for you?"

"Nope," you say, reaching towards the take out that was on the other side of her desk. "Where?"

Natasha's eyes lit up mischievously as she saw your confusion while you unwrap the food. "In the closet, hanging all pretty."

You were so focused on unwrapping the food that you didn't notice her watching you so intently. Already imagining her life with you, not that she doesn't have it with you right now because you basically live together. But the future that lies for the both of you.

You gave her a gentle nudge with your elbow when you noticed her lost in thoughts, "When I go back later, I'll look for it," you say, your voice casual and teasing. Then, you picked up a piece of chicken from the takeout container, "Here you go," you said softly, bringing the chicken to her lips. Natasha opened her mouth obediently, her eyes never leaving yours as she took a bite.

You both eat together, you sitting comfortably on her lap while she gets fed you. A win is a win.

"I am excited to see you in it." Natasha reached out, puckering her lips invitingly towards you as she repeated herself playful yet sultrily.

You leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to her puckered lips before pulling back with a smirk. "Hm, maybe you're just excited to rip it out of me."

"I really want to watch you eat because I know you won't be touching this once I stepped out of that door," you said softly, clean hands cupping her cheek, thumb gently caressing her skin. "But I need to get to my station in thirty, baby."

"You can't even watch me eat," she retorted suggestively, making you laugh and roll your eyes. You finally decided you'd had enough of her teasing and lifted yourself off her lap.

"Baby! Where are you going?" She laughed loudly.

You licked your fingers clean as you stared directly at Natasha, sitting there watching you intently. She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking between your eyes and your fingers. You then grabbed a wet wipe, cleaning your hands thoroughly. She just watched you prepare and fix yourself.

"Do you now remember what today is?"

You strut towards her, a playful smirk on your face. She leaned in as you did, you captured her lips in a quick, teasing kiss. "About that, I need some reminding, yeah?" you say, pulling back and grabbing your things sprawled on her desk, clearly ready to leave.

"Well, I'll remind you tonight then."

"Aye, captain."

"With that dress on."

"Got it cap."

"I love you, Y/N." She said softly before you could grip her doorknob.

"I love you more, baby."

"No, I love you more." She shook her head, grinning as she repeated it back to you.

It is a competition that has become a running joke between you two—well, it's actually not a running joke because you both meant every word. Every time you said it, she'd say it louder and more dramatically.

"I love you most." You say confidently. You put a kissy face on her before you shut the door behind, knowing you won again.

⧗

The call came through on your radio, the crisp voice of the dispatch officer crackling through the speaker. "Fire Department, this is Central dispatch. We have a report of a large fire 18 kilometers north of your station. First responders have arrived on scene, but the situation is escalating rapidly."

You immediately switched to the team channel on your radio. "All units, we have a call for a large fire 18 klicks north. Gear up." You paused, gathering your thoughts, you still have a date tonight.

Sirens blaring, lights flashing, your engine roared to life as you sped towards the 18 kilometer mark. It was late afternoon, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow amidst the billowing smoke. Shadows lengthened as you approached the fiery scene, the daylight fading prematurely due to the thick plume choking the sky.

As your company rounded the final bend, the first thing to catch your eye was the familiar logo of your girlfriend's station emblazoned on the side of one of the fire engines. Your gut clenched as you realized she was likely already inside the burning structure, doing what she did best—bringing people out alive.

You jumped down from your truck, gear in hand, and made a beeline for the command post set up by the first responders. You spotted Peter on the other station, his face grimy with soot and sweat. He nodded at you as you approached, recognizing the elite team's arrival.

"Lieutenant." He's definitely not a kid on missions.

"Captain inside?" You asked, your voice steady but urgent and the kid nodded.

"Yes, she's leading the team through the east wing. We've got multiple civilians trapped on the upper floors." He layed out.

Not that you're not used to this kind of situation. You were used to seeing danger, used to making split-second decisions that often meant life or death because that is the nature of your work—fire. But you just couldn't help but be worried about your girlfriend.

Suddenly, the main entrance burst open, and firefighters emerged, hunched over civilian forms they carried carefully in their arms. The scene repeated multiple times—firefighters appearing, offloading their human burdens onto paramedics, then disappearing back into the hellish building. Dead bodies were retrieved but most are alive.

"Gonna get inside." Before you could even put your mask on Peter called out to you.

"It's cap."

When you took the walkie, laughter, unexpected and sweet, filled the line, cutting through the heavy feeling in your chest.

"Hey, lieutenant." Her voice, though strained, teased you. You could almost feel her smile on the line.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head despite knowing she couldn't see you. "Gonna get in and get you out, cap."

"No. I'll be out soon. I can handle myself. That's an order, lieutenant."

"Well, I hope you get out soon. If I remember you still need to remind me what today is." Her laughter echoed through the walkie, a sound that was both reassuring and irritating in its stubbornness.

"You think I'd miss our anniversary for anything less than burning buildings?" She asked, her voice muffled as she coughed. "I'll be out soon."

"Make sure of that or I'll have our table set up right outside this building."

The walkie crackled with static before her voice came through, low and serious. "Y/N?" She paused, then blurted out, "Do you still want to have kids with me?"

Your response was immediate and certain. "More than anything," you said softly. "You said you want mini me's but I just know they'd be brave like you, like their mama. I want to have your kids, Nat."

She needed to hear that.

"I saw the dress," you rushed out when you didn't hear her answer from the other line. "You better see me in it."

"I better see you without it." Now there she is. You let out a giggle that you girlfriend heard on her end.

She needed to hear that laugh of yours.

"I love you, Y/N." She says in the line, it was static but it was all clear to you.

"You tell me that in person." You said, you held the words so you could say it to her in person but it was so hard to not say it back, "I love you more."

"No, I love you more." Her voice came through, softer this time, almost vulnerable.

You didn't challenge her. You didn't push, didn't fight, didn't argue back that you loved her more. You let her win this time—you let her love you more.

⧗

Her voice was soft and husky over the phone, never failing to send shivers down your spine. "Do you know what today is?" she asked slowly. "Of course not, because it's my secret but you'll know later, babe. Don't worry."

"Silly," you muttered, wishing she heard you so she'd laugh that infectious laugh. But she didn't.

Then, you heard the knock on your door. You quickly grabbed your phone together with your purse and walked to the door to see your girlfriend's sister, Yelena.

"Wow," she said, a smirk on her lips.

"You think she'll like it?" you couldn't help but ask.

Yelena laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, she definitely will," she said, shaking her head. "She probably already has a hundred little jokes and innuendos running through her mind, only for your ears. And when she bought that dress, she is already drooling just imagining you wear it." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Let's go?"

The drive was quick and silent and one thing you know is you are already standing up in eyes of so many people on you. You were wearing the dress Natasha had told you she bought for you out clung to your curves perfectly, the plunging neckline accentuated by the delicate silver necklace she'd given you. The stilettos, also her choice, clicked loudly against the wooden floorboards with each step you took.

"Lieutenant."

"Sir." You recognized the chief of the fire department in your state.

"You're the only one we're waiting for." You just offered a curt nod. You can still feel so many eyes boring on you.

Well, how could they not? You're the only one wearing red in the sea of black.

You walked down the aisle, heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. As you reached the casket, your face immediately fell upon her peaceful face, her hair was braided like she'd always loved. Memories flooded back—her laughter, her smile, her voice.

"Well, I guess I love you more because you weren't able to say it to me in person." Your breath caught in your throat, the irony not lost on you that her silence had left those precious words unspoken forever.

You cannot look at her, not like this. Not when you know you'll never see those beautiful pair of green anymore. Not when you will always feel cold at night without her having to ground and hold you. Not when you'll settle listening to her voice through the voice records you had retrieved during your phone calls with her.

With trembling hands, you finally reached out and closed the casket lid. The soft thud echoed through the silent room, each click of the latch sealing her away seemly louder than the last. A single tear finally spilled over, carving a path down your cheek. Natasha's co-workers step forward, one of them was Peter, bearing the national flag. With reverence, they carefully placed it atop the casket, the red, white and blue stars threaded the thick fabric.

Precisely at the moment the flag was properly rested, your arm moved in a fluid, practiced motion. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you stood there, arm extended in a steady salute. You didn't waver, didn't move. Your eyes remained locked onto the flag-draped casket, seeing not just a symbol of her service, but the woman you loved.

Today, your fire has gone forever. It was a pain that seared through your very soul, etching and knowing that this very day—you lost the love of your life.

You will always remember what today is.

[milla-frenchy]

Playgirl

4k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: Attracted to your father's best friend since his return from Colombia, you finally get what you want Warnings: 18+ mdni. sets after season 3, Javi is back in Texas. dbf!Javi, age gap (reader in her early 20s, Javi in his 40s), Javi is jealous, possessive and a little mean, reader is a brat, dry humping, fingering, manhandling, face sitting, degradation, size kink, oral (f/m), piv, creampie

a/n: this is written for @yxtkiwiyxt 's Never have I ever challenge Prompt was "never have i ever had a sex dream about someone i shouldn't" Thank you for the event Kiwi 🙏❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and helping me with this fic 💕 I love you more than you know 🫂🫶 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

Javi ordered a whiskey neat, loosened the knot of his tie, and downed his drink in one go before asking the bartender for another one. The bass was resonating against the counter he was leaning on, and he had already regretted choosing that bar. Too noisy, too different from the quiet atmosphere he usually preferred. 

He drank the second whiskey and heard a loud laugh he would recognize among a thousand. He turned in that direction and saw you with two men he immediately hated. Too young, too close to you. Too touchy. And you… too drunk.

“Jesus fucking christ”, he grumbled. He wondered if you were there with your friends that he knew, but as he scanned the room he didn’t see a single one of them. He turned back to the counter, ran his thumb along his nose and tried to breathe calmly. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like to see you with those guys. 

When someone pushed him lightly, ordering three shots, Javi turned and recognized one of the men. Javi gave him a snarling look and the guy jeered,

“Chill, man.”

Javi rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against the empty glass. He hesitated at first but then stood up and followed the guy until he came up to you. 

“She’s had enough,” he gruffed as he interposed himself between you and the men. The atmosphere shifted.

“Javi?” you stammered in a drunken pitchy voice.

“It’s not your business man,” one of the men replied. “You know this guy?” he asked you, looking over Javi's shoulder who shifted slightly to block his view. 

“Yeah, he’s my dad’s best friend.”

One of the men snickered and looked at Javi, firmly standing in front of them. 

“So you’re going out with a chaperone?” the man mocked you, not taking his eyes off Javi.

“No, I didn’t know he was here. What are you doing, Javi?” you demanded, touching his arm to turn him towards you, but he didn't flinch. 

The three men kept staring at each other until Javi turned around, told you “we're leaving,” grabbed your elbow and led you towards the exit.

“Wow wow, man, we’re having fun,” one of them objected, seizing Javi by the arm. He stopped and grasped the man's wrist to free himself. His gaze was so dark that the man backed away immediately.

“Really? Having fun?” Javi sneered, taking two steps towards him. “And how much fun do you want to have, exactly?”

Noticing that the situation was escalating, you tried to ease it and said “Come on, Javi. Everything’s fine.”

“Do you know them? Did you know them before tonight, I mean?” he asked you, and you could have sworn you saw something other than simple protectiveness of your father's friend. It made you smile, and it didn't go unnoticed by Javi when his gaze lowered to your lips. He clenched his jaw.

“You’ve had enough,” he repeated. “And if they were decent men, they wouldn’t offer you another one.”

“We’re just having fun!” you added, not hiding your mischievous smile, making him mumble into his moustache.

“You had your fun. Now we’re leaving.”

He didn’t really give you a choice, squeezing your elbow and leading you toward the exit.

“She doesn't want to go with you, man,” one of the men protested. “So who’s a decent guy here?”

“Listen, kid,” Javi said, exasperated, grabbing his shirt collar. “She’s coming with me. And if you don’t want to embarrass yourself, step back, right now.” They faced each other for a few moments until the other man told his friend to let it go.

The cool air hit your face when you stepped out of the bar, and you followed Javi to his car as best you could, given his pace. He opened a door for you and told you curtly to get in, then he sat behind the wheel.

“Seat belt,” he ordered.

“What?” 

“Jesus, are you always so fucking dumb when you're drunk?” he asked sharply, leaning over you to grab the seat belt and pull it in front of you before fastening it.

“You smell good, Javi.”

“Seriously? How many drinks did you have? Just… stop talking, ok? You're gonna give me a headache with your drunk high pitched voice.”

“Ok, you fucking stink, then,” you giggled.

He rolled his eyes and started the car. “Don’t puke in my truck”, he warned.

“Of course, who do you take me for?” You looked at him then whispered, “don’t say anything if it’s mean,” your index finger pointed at him as you  laughed and then pressed it against your lips playfully.

He sighed again and mumbled something in Spanish that you didn’t hear well, but that didn’t sound nice, for sure.

“I always wondered, you know,” you started talking in a confidential tone.

“Don't you ever shut up,” he sighed. “Wondered what?”

“How big it is.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, regretting it almost immediately. He interrogated hundreds of sicarios with a cool head, but seemed unable to cut down your drunken gibberish, much to his dismay.

“Your dick. You’ve got a big dick, for sure.”

He choked on air and you chuckled before you continued “there's not much for the imagination with these jeans… right, leftie guy? But how big?”

“Fuck, what is wrong with you? You talk to your father with this mouth?” he barked, icy gaze fixed on yours, his body frozen in shock at your audacity.

“What are you gonna do to shut me up, Mr. DEA agent?” you said, still pushing him. “Use your handcuffs? I bet I’d like it,” you said with a wide smile.

Javi’s cock twitched in his pants and he hated himself for it. The ride was going to be way too long for his liking.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, as the images from his last dream came back to his mind. 

You, lying beneath him, your mouth forming a perfect “o” as he pushed his length in your welcoming pussy. She was warm, so tight that she was struggling to accept his thickness. Your walls strained against his shaft that had never been so hard. His face lowered to yours, fixed on your eyes that struggled to stay open, on your lip that you were biting to fight through the stretching of your hole, even while it was drooling. He was fucking you slowly, for a long time, attentive to all the sensations that ran through his body, until you pulsed on his cock, moaning, head thrown back against his pillow. He licked your neck before nibbling it, then whispered in Spanish against your ear about how well you were taking him, how perfect you were, and then he came, filling you with his seed, and a new climax rocked you.

“Javi,” you whispered.

He woke up suddenly, his sheets wet with cum that he hadn’t been able to hold back during sleep.

Those dreams were becoming more and more regular. When he had returned to Laredo after resigning from the DEA, slowly getting back into touch with some fragments of his previous life, he couldn’t imagine that his jaw would drop when he knocked on the door of his friend's home. They had stayed in touch, even when Javi was in Colombia. Of course, your father had told him about you over the years. About your studies, about how proud he was of you.

You opened the door and stared at each other for a few seconds. Javi was unable to speak, completely frozen.

“Javi!!” you finally exclaimed and hugged him. He was sure he wouldn't have recognized you, if he had passed you in the street.

Days, weeks, months passed, and he‘d seen you many times since then, when he visited your father’s. He was trying to keep his thoughts pure but his cock was betraying him.

And then the dreams began.

The first time he jerked off thinking of you, he'd had too many beers at your dad's. All night long, he wondered if he was imagining your signals, or if you were really hitting on him. He felt ashamed when his cum leaked down his fist clenched around his cock, as he was imagining it buried in your throat.

“You put on quite a show there,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at your bare legs for a moment, your dress riding up your thighs.

“Sit properly, will you?” he cut in with a sigh.

“Why?” you replied in a playful tone. “You don’t like the view? Doubt it,” you added, nibbling the tip of your index finger.

He hated that you could think that. Hated that you were right. His only way to react was to be aggressive, but it didn't seem to stop you. Quite the opposite, actually.

“I think you were jealous.” Javi scoffed at your words. “You didn't like seeing me with other men,” you added, still pushing.

“Men?” he mocked. “They were like what, 23?”

“Yeah, 23 and 24. Seems like a perfect age to have fun,” you teased, eager to spike his jealousy, to feel desired, wanted.

“What would your father think if he saw you acting like a whore?” he hissed, pissed off.

“I don’t know Javi, what do you think?”

“Jesus christ,” he said under his breath. Luckily, your father's house was now in sight. As he pulled into the driveway, you grabbed your purse off the car’s floor and looked into it and after a pause began frantically rummaging through it.

“Ughhhh Javi? I can’t find my keys….”

He cut the engine and leaned his head against the headrest. 

“You really think I’m stupid?”

“I swear!!! I must have lost them at the bar. Where am I gonna sleep?” you whined.

He grabbed your bag roughly, searched through it and pulled out the set of keys with an annoyed glare.

 “Come on now, I’ll walk you home.”

You pouted and followed him out of the car. The moment you opened the front door, you heard the phone ring and picked it up.

“Dad? I just got home. I was at the bar and ran into Javi who walked me home like a gentleman,” you said, smiling widely at him. He rolled his eyes, hands on his hips.

“Sure,” you added, handing the phone to Javi. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

You couldn’t hear your father, but you saw Javi’s eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t think she’s that drunk, you know,” he sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. See you tomorrow.”

 “What did he say,” you asked when Javi hung up.

“Your father won’t come home until tomorrow night and he doesn’t want you to spend the night alone. He’s afraid you’ll choke on your vomit,” he scoffed. You didn’t hide your smile.

“Of course!! You don’t want me to choke on my vomit, Javi, do you?”

He tried not to think that he would really like to make you choke on something else at that moment. He closed his eyes for a minute, sighed and said, “Go to bed, dammit.”

“Mmmm… it’s too early for that. I’m gonna take a shower. See you later,” you said before heading upstairs.

Once Javi heard the water running, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, debating whether that was a good or bad idea. He turned the TV on. The first thing he saw was a documentary about drug cartels.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he mumbled and  flipped through the channels until he found a baseball game. He was trying not to think about you naked in the shower, imagining your fingers slipping against your folds covered in soap. Unsuccessfully.

When you came out of the bathroom wearing an oversized t-shirt, his cock twitched painfully against the fabric of his pants. You walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting on the couch next to him.

“Absolutely not,” he said, taking the bottle from your hands. “Drink some water, no need to add more, don’t you think?”

“Jeez, you’re boring,” you grumbled, leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed over your chest. Your pouting didn’t last long, and you straddled him suddenly, pressing yourself against his crotch.

“Get off me” he growled. “You really think I’d fuck you? What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? You’re hard!” you giggled. “You’re fucking hard, Javi,” you repeated, feeling his bulge. “And… oh, shit. I knew you were big, but not that big.”

“Stop,” he grunted, his hands on your hips.

“Nuh-hu,” you replied, starting to rub against him. 

“I won’t fuck you. You really need me to tell you why?” he asked, but you almost felt like it was more to convince himself than you.

“No, and I don’t give a fuck anyway.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds, his gaze darkening with every moment. You thought he was going to pull you away from him but he surprised you when his hands squeezed your hips and you smiled, victorious.

“Wanna act like a slut? In your father’s house?”

“Yeah, actually I do. Does it turn you on, Javi? Even more than it did when you were thinking about me in the shower?”

And that was it. He didn’t care about your father anymore. He'd given up on resisting, didn’t know when he would stop. If he could even stop. Jaw clenched, he watched you rub yourself against him, your breasts so close to his face, he was glad that you still had your shirt on, or he would surely already be sucking on them.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” you breathed out, still pressed against his bulge, which was even bigger than a few minutes ago.

“No, you won’t,” he cut you off, but you smiled and leaned towards him and brushed his lips with yours, playing with him. You were enjoying it too much to stop.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me,” you murmured, your breath caressing his lips. “And don’t lie to me.”

Tightening his grip on your hip with one hand, he pinched your chin between his fingers, squeezing it almost painfully. He held you inches away from him, maintaining control.

Then he told you to stand up and sit back against his chest.

You didn't want to at first. You wanted to feel his digits on your skin, to feel him under you, his cock pushing against his pants, but when he murmured “do as I say” you complied and leant against his chest, legs spread around his lap. You waited, surprisingly wise, leaving him the initiative for what was to come next.

Javi placed his hands on your hips, manhandling you until his cock nestled against the warmest place of your body, still covered by your panties. You whined when he found the spot so perfectly, and whimpered a little more when he whispered “you're gonna be good?” in your ear.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

“Keep all spread for me, and dance. Slowly.”

You started to rub yourself against him, and felt your panties getting soaked. His hands slowly moved up from your hips to your breasts and under your shirt, cupped them and played with your nipples, making you bite your lip.

His breath quickened against your ear and you closed your eyes, rocking your hips against him until he pushed the fabric of your panties aside and slid his hand between your bodies to release his cock. So strained against his clothes that he cursed impatiently under his breath. 

Javi pressed the pads of his fingers to his shaft and pushed it against your soaked folds. Then he started to move, matching your hip movements with his own, gently, sensually. Perfectly.

“Look at you. Droolin’ all over my sack. Jeez, I’m fuckin’ soaked,” he said, before nibbling your earlobe, his moustache rubbing against your skin.

When he slid his other hand down to your clit and started to circle it, you came quickly, regretting only that your pussy felt desperately empty.

You weren't expecting him to push his tip into your entrance, and the slightly painful stretch made you whine.

“Fuck, wait!”

“What?” he gruffed. “You wanted to know how big it was, didn’t you? That’s why you humped that cock, just wanting to ride it, even if you already knew how fat it was, right?”

“I’m… I’m not sure I can take it,” you whined pitifully.

“Oh? You’re not sure you can take a man’s dick? A real man, not one of those boys who make you drink to fuck you.”

His thumbs ran over your dripping folds and you moaned. 

“Alright. You’re already so wet,” his tone superior, not trying to hide it. ”I bet I can make you drip even more. I’m gonna eat that cunt until she clenches on my fingers. Get you ready for my cock.”

“Oh, really? Are you that good, Javi?” you retorted, unable to stop yourself.

“That’s not very smart coming from someone whining 10 seconds ago she couldn’t take it. Now sit on my face.”

“What? I never… Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Wanna see you losin’ it. Your knees getting weak for me.”

When you straddled him and placed your pussy close to his face, you felt shy, intimidated. He grabbed your ass firmly, pulled you closer to him, tugged your panties to the side and just dove in, licking from your pussy to your clit. He growled, and an almost inaudible “fuck” escaped your lips.

Then, you couldn't do anything except moan, because no one had ever eaten your pussy like he was doing it now. He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t showing his eager need. He was so sure of himself and his movements, alternating tongue, fingers and nose against your folds, between them, that his attitude alone would have been enough to make you come. 

He was using and manhandling your body as he pleased, choosing what part of your cunt he wanted to lick, suck or eat. What part he wanted to rub against his nose. As if your body wasn't really yours anymore, but existed for him to feist on.

You were a soaked, moaning mess, unable to feel your legs, now made of cotton. Until the heat that was increasing in your lower abdomen suddenly exploded, making you pant, hands clasping his hair and he didn't want to leave the streaming river that flowed down his throat. You squirmed over him, until he decided it was enough, and released you. You collapsed onto the couch next to him. Trembling, breathing heavily.

He wiped his mustache off your cum and grabbed your hand as he stood up, then placed it on his shaft.

“See what you did? Now you gotta do something about it.”

He released your hand and took off his clothes, his fat, reddish tip twitching and crying, begging for relief. You swallowed slowly, when you finally saw how big he was.

“Shit,” you stammered.

“Stroke it,” he ordered and you smeared the precum on the tip and used it to jerk him slowly. It was the biggest cock you'd ever seen. By far. You couldn't take your eyes off it, wondering how it would feel when he would push it inside you. If you could take it. If it would hurt, and this time you almost hoped it would, already cock drunk of him.

“Lick it a little. Drool on it,” he said. 

You wanted to do it perfectly, just to wipe the smirk from his face. So you applied yourself, licked him and let his taste fill your throat. Then you rounded your lips as much as you could to suck on his tip, and slowly moved down his shaft. 

“Look at that. You're not just good at talking, it seems”, his tone still so confident.

He accompanied your movements with one hand on your head, letting you lead the pace. His grunts turned into moans and you could feel your arousal drip.

"That's it, you're doing good. See, there's nothing to be afraid of," he added, but when you lifted your head and saw his smirk, you knew what he was thinking. The moment he would sink in, you’d whine.

“Ok, that’s it,” he said. “Bend over the couch, gonna fuck you now. I'm gonna give you what you want, and it will only happen once.”

Before settling behind you, he removed your shirt, then tugged aside your panties.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” 

You nodded and watched him lick his fingers then caress your folds with them, and he aligned his tip with your entrance before pushing in. You gasped as you felt the first stretch spreading you open.

“It’s ok, you can take it,” he added. “Breathe. Come on.”

You dug your nails into the couch as he thrust in, never stopping until he bottomed out with a growl. He stayed there, balls deep, keeping you open around him, moaning, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck… you’re fucking tight,” he growled, pulling back and then pushing in again, eyes fixed on his cock sliding in you, covered with your slick.

“That’s what you wanted, getting fucked by your father’s friend? You should be ashamed,” he spat.

“Come on, Javi… oh fuck… you think I… think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me?” you added as he thrust harder, reacting instantly to your provocation. 

“You’re only proving me right,” you added, and he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, forcing you to hold your head like he wanted and arch your back for him.

“You’re delusional,” he hissed, making you snicker.

“Am I? You’re gonna tell me you never thought about fucking me? Never thought of… shit! Of thrusting in with your whole length? Of eating my cunt?”

“Shut up,” he panted.

“Tell me. Tell me you thought of me, and don't lie to me. I did everything I could to make you think about me. That's called premeditation, isn't it, Mr. DEA Agent?”

He stopped moving and leaned to press his chest against your back, his nose and moustache brushing against your neck, catching his breath for a moment before his hips resumed their dance, rubbing against a spot you didn't even know existed before him.

“I dreamed of you,” he finally confessed. “Several times.”

“Tell me. Tell me what happened in your dreams.”

“I fucked you like this. Made you come on my cock. Made you moan like you’re doing right now.”

“Shit… You’re gonna make me come on your cock, Javi?”

“Yes,” he answered without a doubt in his voice.

“Fuck… Keep talking to me. What else?”

“I fucked my shaft. Jerked off thinking of you. Imagining it was your mouth around my cock, not my fist.”

“In your dreams, you mean? You dreamed of that?”

“No. I thought of that.”

“Oh god,” you whined. You realized you were about to come, just from his shaft brushing this spot. Already worried that you would spend the rest of your life chasing that feeling.

He grabbed your hips tighter, digging his fingers in your flesh, and you were sure you’d have bruises the next day. His skin was slapping against yours, harder, faster.

“Every time you’ll fuck someone else, you’ll think of me now,” he growled. “Like a curse. You will never feel something like this again.”

“Please… please,” you begged.

“Please what?” he asked, and you didn’t need to see him to know there was a smirk on his face.

“I need more,” you whined.

“I’m not even done with you,” he mocked. “Now be a good girl, and come for me.”

“Please… I don’t want it to end. Please…” you whimpered. As if you could stop your body from reacting to his perfect, relentless thrusts. Clinging to the couch, you dug your fingers into the cushions as your orgasm swept through your entire being, leaving you panting and boneless.

You clenched on his cock so hard he was afraid he'd spill his load. But he wanted it to last a little more, too. He tried to think of something else, anything. He released his grip on your hips to try to feel you less, but your pussy wouldn't give him any respite.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

“You wanna fill me?” you asked. “Fill me, Javi. I wanna feel you flowing down my folds all night long.”

“Stop it,” he groaned.

“Fill me. Fill your friend's daughter.” You couldn’t stop talking. Didn’t want to stop. You wanted to make him break, to feel that he was losing his mind too. Just like you.

He slid his fingers in your mouth and found the force to smirk when you licked and sucked on them.

You squeezed your pussy around his shaft until you heard him moan.

“Shit, you… you and your fucking tight cunt!” he let out through gritted teeth.

“Who will be the most cursed, Javi? Me… or you?” you smirked.

“Shut up. Fuck… I own that cunt now. You hear me? No matter who fucks her after me.”

He slipped his hand under your breasts to force you up and didn't stop fucking you, your back pressed against his chest. You fumbled and grabbed his hand, finally clinging to his thumb, moaning, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“You wanna drain my balls? Ok take it then,” he growled, and you felt his cock twitch inside you, just before he spurted in your cunt, filling it longly, slowly, with his load.

He didn't let go of you until you both caught your breath, then he told you to go to bed. You heard him light a cigarette as you opened your bedroom door, your legs still shaking.

You woke up to the sound of your door opening during the night. He was naked and you let your gaze drop from his broad shoulders to his happy trail.

“I thought it was only a one-time thing,” you teased, already feeling your cunt getting wet at the sight of his hard cock.

“Fuck it,” he replied, climbing on your bed.

Javi p masterlist

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[wosospacegirl]

teen!Barca player teaching the Spanish players tik tok slang would be so funny 😂😂

Lost in the Slangverse - barça! teen reader

Summary: Y/n pranks Alexia and Olga by speaking only in Gen Z slang and TikTok memes.

Warnings: Chronic online behaviour and TikTok brainrot.

Word count: 2.1k

notes: sorry but I changed it a bit to include Olga

..

“I don't understand why I should do that,” Y/n whispered to Vicky and Jana. “Why don't you do it?”

The three girls were standing in a circle in the corner of the changing room. Training had just ended, and they were all sweaty and gross.

It didn't help y/n's already grumpy mood when Jana pulled her arm out of nowhere when she was getting ready to get in the shower.

Jana had said it was something urgent, and Vicky, who was by her side, had nodded along.

Y/n’s eyes almost got stuck in her skull when Vicky said they wanted Y/n to make a TikTok video with Alexia using gen slang that Alexia most definitely didn't know.

The girls now were arguing but kept their voices low, so the senior girls wouldn’t overhear them behind the lockers.

“Because you're the good kid! An angel! The apple of Alexia’s eyes’’ Vicky said, smiling enthusiastically.

“Me? The apple of Alexia’s eyes?” Y/n asked, confusion on her face as she pointed to herself. “She made me run 2 kilometres last night as a punishment because I talked back to Olga.”

“Well… maybe not the good kid then,” Jana said. “But the best kid between us three, nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” Vicky agreed with Jana. “ if Jana or I do it, they'll know something’s up.”

“Exactly! Plus, you're closer to Alexia, so you can say stuff without it looking suspicious!” Jana added. “You’ll make more content.”

“I'll look suspicious either way,” Y/n said, narrowing her eyes “I don't even stay on my phone that much, they'll notice that.”

“You realise you are a shame for every teenager out there, right?” Jana asked deadpan. “What are you going to say next, that you and Olga knit on Friday nights?”

Y/n blushed because…yes. They did that. She lifted a finger, ready to defend herself, but Vicky interrupted her, disappointment on her face.

“Just..stop being boring for once in your life? Please?” Vicky said. 

Vicky gave Y/n her best puppy eyes.

“Come on, Y/n, we are for lifers, right?” Jana stood next to Vicky with, the same big, puppy eyes.

“Ugh…fine, wherever,” Y/n said, crossing her arms. “I’ll do it, but you're helping me with my homework next week–and the next.“

“Deal!” they both said, grinning, victory on their faces.

“And you are the ones picking up the balls after training,” Y/n added. “I hate doing that…Pina always kicks them far away on purpose.” 

“Alright by us,” the girls agree, almost in a singing tone. 

“And I won't help Cat out of its costume for a month! It will be all you two.”

“O-okay?” Vicky and Jane said, less enthusiastic. 

Now they were wondering how much this TikTok really cost.

“Y/n!” Alexia called from the other side of the room.

“I have to go,” Y/n whispered, but before she could leave their hiding spot, Alexia bumped into her.

 “Oh, there you are,’ Alexia said with a smile" "Let's go ho—wait, you didn’t shower yet?”

Alexia looked at Y/n as if she came back from the sty, when-in truth–she was just a little sweaty. 

Y/n looked up and tried to act casual, leaning on her elbow in one of the lockers. It belonged to Aitana…she hated when people got close to her locker.

“Hm, no I didn't,” Y/n looked around trying to find an excuse. “We were way  too busy talking about–”

“School,” Y/n finally said. Good, a safe choice.

“Football,” Vicky chimed in. Also good, and very convincing. 

“You!” Jana blurted out. Horrible, terrible choice.

The two of them shot Jana an annoyed look, rolling their eyes.

‘What, Jana?’ Vicky mouthed, trying to turn her body from Alexia so she couldn't read her lips. ‘Talking about Alexia?’

‘Tonta,” [stupid] Y/n mouthed back, rolling her eyes, before turning to Alexia, who was still looking confused.

“Sorry, Ale, we were really busy here…socialising,” Y/n said. “I’ll shower when we get home.”

“Mm, okay,” Alexia said, still puzzled. “Grab your stuff. We’re picking up Olga on the way home.”

..

As Alexia and Y/n made their way through Barcelona’s car park, Y/n was happily skipping, heading to the passenger’s seat in Alexia's car.

“Nope, kid,” Alexia said, pushing Y/n’s backpack toward her. “We’re picking up Olga. She’s going in the passenger seat.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Alexia said, pointing to the back seat. “You go there.”

It was a perfect opportunity. 

Y/n took her phone very stealthily and pressed record, keeping it close to her body so Alexia wouldn't see it. 

“Simp.”

“What?” Alexia asked, turning her head to Y/n. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Y/n asked, pretending she didn’t know what Alexia was talking about.

“What you just called me.”

“Oh, simp? It means you're a lost puppy when it comes to Olga.”

Alexia blushed. “Hey, I’m not like that.”

“Beta energy,” Y/n added, rolling her eyes.

“Beta? Are you speaking in code?”

“Nah, just speaking facts.” Y/n shrugged. “Are you gonna drive or leave Olga waiting?”

Alexia looked at Y/n weirdly but got in the car and began driving. Y/n’s phone was still in her hand, ready to film the next part of her–or well–Jana and Vicky’s prank.

Olga was working in a modelling event today, but she was already waiting for them when Alexia parked the car in front of the studio.

“Hi, girls,” Olga said, getting in and kissing Alexia on the lips. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” Alexia said, putting her hand on Olga’s tight. “We did some strength training, speed…all of that”

“Yeah, no cap, it was the worst.” Y/n chimed in while looking out the window and humming to the song playing. One direction. Oldie but goldie.

“No cap?” Olga asked, turning to Y/n, a frown on her face,

“Yeah,” Y/n said, adjusting her earbud. “No cap, training was like…brutal.”

“Okay, sure… but why is it ‘no cap’?”

..

When they got home, Y/n went straight to her room, dropping her training bag by the bed before heading to the shower.

After she was done, a notification popped up on her phone from a group chat with Jana and Vicky.

Vicky: hi, how’s it going?

Jana: hi?? @Y/n??

Y/n: Everything’s going according to plan.

Jana: Great! :D send me all the recordings later, and I’ll make a TikTok out of it.

Y/n: 👍

Vicky: why do u always text like a dad, bro.

Y/n closed the chat and went downstairs, sitting at the table in front of Alexia.

“What restaurant are we going today?” Y/n whispered

“I’m not sure yet,” Alexia whispered back, glancing around suspiciously. “It’ll depend on Olga’s mood.”

“I don't know why we insist on letting her cook!” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

Alexia kicked her under the table. “Be nice!”

Before Y/n could argue, Olga emerged from the kitchen with... something.

She carried a big tray of what looked like ground beef, except the colour was all wrong—like it had spent way too much time in the oven. And the smell... Y/n could swear Olga had chopped up three entire onions and just thrown them in for fun.

Olga served Alexia and Y/n, putting a whole lot of food on their plate. Y/n stared at the plate in front of her. She poked it with her fork as she, very carefully, put her phone on the table and pressed play.

“Olga, you really got no rizz in the kitchen, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re burning everything, so yeah, no rizz,” Y/n said disappointed. It was another day that they had to eat Olga’s bad food and then go out to eat in order not to starve.

“What? But it’s not that bad!” Olga said, staring at her own…creation. “It’s original.”

“It tastes bad,” Y/n murmured under her breath.

Olga ignored Y/n and turned to her girlfriend, who looked just as scared of the food as Y/n.

“Alexia, do you think I have no rizz?” Olga asked Alexia, giving her puppy eyes.

"Olguita, I’m not even sure what ‘rizz’ means," Alexia admitted, looking confused.

“Me neither,” Olga said. “But if it’s something good, then you think I have it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, that’s gross,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing up her phone. “Get a room.”

..

As per usual. The Putellas and the honorary Putella–Y/n– ended up in a restaurant. It was a Chinese one this time, the same one they had gone the last time Olga was responsible for cooking.

Y/n presser record while the waitress came to take their order. She was pretty but way older than Y/n.

“That’s my type, I fear,” Y/n said, as soon as the waitress went to another table.

Both Alexia and Olga looked at her confused.

“Your type?” Alexia asked. “What’s your type?”

Y/n pointed with her chin to the waitress.

“What? She’s your type?” Olga asked, turning from the waitress to Y/n. “So, you have a thing for…waitresses?

“I mean, you’ve seen the way she’s serving us... It’s giving heart eyes.” Y/n said casually.

“Heart eyes? What does that even mean?”” Olga asked. “Why have you been talking weird all day?”

Y/n just shrugged and pretended to play on her phone, but what she was really doing was getting the angle of the filming right to show Alexia’s face.

“Is this a joke? I’m lost...” Alexia said, turning to Olga. “Isn’t the waitress like, fifteen years older than her?”

“Well,” Y/n chimed in. “It’s just like that Kelly Clarkson cover, you know?”  

Y/n knew full well they had no clue what the hell she was talking about.

Alexia opened her mouth, closed it, and then turned to Olga like she was asking for help. Olga just shook her head, utterly lost.

“I feel like it's getting harder and harder to talk to you,” Olga said, clearly stressed. “I should probably buy a book about raising teens.”

“You're not my mom,” Y/n said in a singing voice, looking at the dessert section on the menu.

That petit gateau looked so good.

“Alexia will read it too,” Olga said, more to herself.

“I'll read what?” Alexia asked, looking up.

Y/n pretended she didn't see Alexia's phone playing a Barcelona match live on YouTube. 

Olga hated when Alexia watched football when they were out.

“A book about teen development,” Olga said. “This child is losing herself.”

“Yep, brain rot,” Y/n agreed.

“What?!” Olga asked, completely worried. “What is rotting?!”

Y/n ignored Olga and looked At Alexia.

“Can I please have the petit gateau, Ale?” Y/n asked with a pout.

“Ask Olga,” Alexia said, “You can if she lets you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. 

“See, beta behaviour,” she murmured.

"Olguita, can I please—"

"No, Y/n."

"Damn."

In the end, Y/n earned her petit gateau after telling Olga she had alpha energy. Alexia didn’t like it, but the compliment made Olga happy enough to agree to dessert.

"Alpha energy? Olga?" Alexia scoffed. "She just told you no."

Y/n took a victorious bite of her petit gateau. "Yeah, and then I got what I wanted."

..

Unfortunately, for Y/n, that little prank she pulled got twisted around after a couple of days.

After a long training session, Alexia and Y/n came back home, and once again, Y/n didn’t take a shower at the training centre. Instead, she was procrastinating, lying on the sofa while watching Criminal Minds.

“Y/n, seriously,” Alexia said, putting her hands on her hips. “For the love of God, go take a shower.”

“I’m not that dirty,” Y/n said “It’s fine, I’ll go after this episode is over.”

“You smell like a sweaty gym sock,” Olga chimed in from behind her, wrinkling her nose.

“Okay, wow, thanks for the support,” Y/n said sarcastically, glaring at Olga. “

I’m just saying. The truth hurts. No cap.” Olga just shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Did you just say ‘no cap’?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, unable to hide her amusement.

Olga grinned. “Yeah, you heard me.”

“Oh no, where did you learn it?” Y/n said, turning to Alexia for backup. “Did Jana teach it to her?

“I don’t know,” Alexia shrugged."But what I do know is that you’re taking a shower now, bet.”

“Okay…” Y/n narrowed her eyes and turned the TV off. “I’m just going because you two are acting weird.

As Y/n walked toward the stairs Alexia called after her. “Please take a really long shower. We need some peace and quiet around here.”

Y/n ignored Alexia.

Tomorrow, she’d wake up to Alexia saying “no cap” in an interview. She could feel it.

..

Please don't forget to like, reblog and leave feedback!!! plss <3

more of barça! teen reader here

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari wasn't too surprised when she heard what Hawks said. She wasn't the best at hiding how she felt and she had picked up on Hawks being able to read people well. The child guessed that Hawks had to be at least pretty good at it to be doing his mission.

She sighed softly and focused on the screen as the count down started. She began to speak in a hushed tone, so only herself and her papa could hear. "It's kinda hard to... So much is going on cuz of me... Cuz I'm alive and cuz you found me and took me in." She muttered, choosing her words carefully incase Hawks didn't want to call her his daughter. She didn't want to put words into his mouth. She gave a bitter sweet chuckle at Hawks ruffling her hair. The race started and Kari was late to start her car, just by a moment but she sped up, trying to keep her car in the top 5 at least, but she was doing her best to get further up, reaching the car in 4th and keeping on its tail.

"I mean... So much has been going on. That whole thing with my family then well... you know THAT, with who I'm related with. It's all... it's all cuz of me and it's hard to ignore."

Kari's car hit an obstical and her car slid into 6th place. "It's not fair. I'm trying really hard not to think about it but I have to be on my guard. Anyone of the people here could be a villain or someone being controlled by my aunt or something. It sucks." Kari managed to get into 5th again, reaching 4th. "I wanna be a hero, I know I will be a hero, but sometimes I'm scared I won't be around to get that chance ya know. I mean, I know I won't starve and die alone on the street because of you. But... what if I'm taken again, what if... What if Maica manages to get me under her control again? It's all just too much to ignore."

Kari took a breath, rubbing her eye free from building tears. "I just... Hate being a problem for other people." She muttered as her car battled for 4th place. The child was getting visibly irritated as she reached 3rd place not long later and was creeping towards 2nd. She just poured her heart out about her worries in hushed whispers, her focus mostly on the game as a torrent of words escaped her mouth.

Eventually Kari claimed 2nd place and was nearing Hawks, who was in 1st, and was getting closer. That spark slowly came back to her eyes as she saw she was getting closer and closer to 1st. Her words quieted, 99% of her focus on the game while the other 1% was on her worries in the back of her head. She tried to put all of her focus on the game but it was something she couldn't do right now since these were still such new worries to her. Her car was getting closer and closer to Hawks' car as time went on.

Hawks was good at reading people—body language, microexpressions, all that good stuff. And right now, his sharp eyes caught the way Kari’s face shifted. The way that spark of excitement flickered, even if just for a second.

He had a pretty good idea why, too.

Didn’t take a genius to know what kind of thoughts a kid like her might have after hearing whispers like secret child and Hawks’ daughter. He knew she worried too much for a kid her age—about his reputation, about being a target, about making things harder for him. But she didn’t have to.

Hawks leaned forward, draping an arm lazily over the back of his seat like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You sure about that, Shortstack?” he teased, smirking as he picked his own vehicle. “You got some storm clouds in your head. Can’t be the fastest if you’re distracted.”

He said it lightly, playfully, but his voice was laced with something a little softer.

Before she could brush it off, he nudged her gently with his elbow. “Listen, don’t go worrying about all that noise, alright? You and me, we do what we do best—flyin’ high, kickin’ butt, and making the bad guys sweat. The rest? We handle it as it comes.”

His smirk widened as the countdown for the race started. “And right now? You better focus up, ‘cause I’m about to smoke you in this race.”

The game started, and he shot forward, but not before ruffling her hair again for good measure.

[kermdoeswriting]

Tell Him

"You'll have to tell him at some point, you know."

Danny watched as Alfred stirred his tea with his favorite spoon before neatly placing it onto the napkin beside him.

He didn't look up once to see if Danny was even paying attention. He just continued to speak, as if he already knew that Danny was.

"It'd be awfully unfair of you not to do so. Knowing how much he trusts you with his own secrets."

Danny hums before taking another sip of his own tea that Alfred had prepared for him earlier. It wasn't as if he had never thought of telling Tim what he was, but the idea of rejection made him awfully nervous.

Dealing with the supernatural was one thing.

Dealing with a manifestation of a concept placed into a human body is another.

It was a hard thing for humans to deal with. When they finally knew who or really what he was.

"I was hoping maybe he'd catch on with context clues." Danny replies eventually, sounding meek as he shrunk into himself.

Alfred chuckled as a response.

"I'm afraid context clues might not be enough for him, Lord Hades."

Danny shrugged off his title, refusing to meet Alfred's eyes as he stirred his tea over and over again. The sugar dissolved ages ago, but he can't stop stirring anyway.

The repetitive motion calmed him from thinking of the inevitable.

"I can still hope, Alfred." He pouted eventually, breaking their silence. Alfred laughed at him.

"Hoping is foolish, but your yearning is even worse for us both."

Danny looked over at the older man, wisdom leaking from his bones after all of his years untouched by his very presence. While Alfred had bristled with death in the past, he had never quite got that singular touched mark until Danny came along.

"How so?"

"You know how," Alfred tutted at him knowingly, eyes back on his tea before taking another sip.

"You are delaying the inevitable by keeping me here. All to keep seeing him."

Danny's silent, the words trapped in his throat for a moment before he speaks.

"Is that such a bad thing? To want to live longer?"

"It is when you've lived all the life you're supposed to live."

The two go silent again. Danny finishes his tea.

"Tonight... after the gala..." He hesitates when he sees Alfred's eyes on him again, looking away towards the Wayne Garden roses next to him. "After I tell him, we'll go."

Alfred hums, sounding unconvinced. He finishes his tea as well after a long moment.

"If you insist."

_ _ _

"You know Danny?"

Tim started off as he walked on top of the cement barrier, Danny walking beside him. The garden was cold tonight, making Tim have goosebumps.

Danny seemed unphased by the chill. Like he always was.

"You never really told us how you're related to Alfred."

Danny hummed in response, already knowing Tim was not done with his train of thought. His hands were shoved into his suit pants, and he was hunched as he walked.

In a way, Tim found it attractive.

"It's just odd. Alfred's never really told us much about his family, except for the occasional offhand thing. And then you're just here. No prior mention or anything!"

At that, Tim watched Danny smile at the floor as if expecting Tim to question such a thing before shaking his head in defeat.

"That's because we're not closely related at all." Danny confirms, finally taking a moment to look up at Tim.

Tim stops abrupt at the admission and stares at him as well. He can't stop the stray, sudden thought that Danny looked so pretty under the Gotham moon.

Danny just continues to stare at him with a small amount of light in his eyes, waiting for some kind of reaction from him but Tim doesn't give him one. "We're actually far from it."

"Who are you then?"

Tim could only really hear the crickets chirping the longer they stood there. Behind him gala guests were chattering away and glasses were clinking together.

Still, despite being so close, it all sounded so far away with the way his ears were drumming.

"I think you know who."

The two just continued to stare at each other, Tim unable to really look away.

"Death...?"

Danny looked even softer, all knowingly even, up at him and didn't answer.

But even then Tim knew he was right. And all he felt was his stomach aching with butterflies as shaking chills changed from the cold, into fear.

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

Or basically

Danny is Death / The Grim Reaper, and he's been sent to the Waynes to collect Alfreds soul. The only problem is that he fell in love with Alfreds grandson, Tim, at first sight, and has been delaying the inevitable because of it.

[lenneygirl4ever]

the alchemy || Will Lenney

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

part one of THE ALCHEMY.

pairing: will lenney x fem!reader

warnings & tags: friends to lovers. idiots with tension. idiots in denial. slowish burn. lots of nerdy football talk + a side of Willne.

summary: The two times you were recruited to play in a Sidemen charity match, and the one time you score.

a/n: hello!!! this is based on the 2022 sidemen charity match, but for convenience purposes, it's set in 2023. for the plot, of course.

also, i’m tired of looking at this so this is being posted without review! i promise part two will have more will, i’m just setting us up for success in part one. you’ll absolutely love it.

please enjoy <3

wc: idek at this point

The buzz that interrupted your sleep wasn’t what concerned you, it’s the fact that after you had hung up the first and second time, there was a third call. Begrudgingly, you toss your sheets aside and sit up, eyeing the phone on the bedside table. To no surprise, it was Simon.

You were no stranger when it came to working with the Sidemen. Starting off as a crew member who was good with a camera, slowly you were incorporated into videos, and eventually had the confidence to create your own platform. After leaving the Sidemen to focus on building your solo career, most of your audience didn't know where you gained your footing, becoming a bigger public figure outside of their work.

Getting a phone call from Simon wasn't uncommon, needless to say. You were always ready to film, to bring in new ideas for them, to be on set. After all, you had been friends with the lads for years.

"Hello?" you croak, trying to smooth down the hair that was knotted in the back of your head.

"Y/n! How are you, mate?" Simon's voice was overly chipper and sweet, too sweet. You eye your phone for a moment before pressing it back up to your ear. It was too early in the morning for either of you to be awake.

"Christ, Simon, I know you aren't just calling me at seven in the morning to ask how I am," you replied. Simon sighs briefly before letting out an airy chuckle.

"Alright, I need to ask you for a favor." That's what you were expecting. His voice hesitant and low, it made you wonder what this could really be about.

"Okay, go on then," you yawn. You weren't sure why Simon was being so ominous; you had done the lad loads of favors in the past. Bringing in extra camera crew, reaching out to other influencers, helping plan out events-

"Would you sub in for Andres for the charity match next week? I know it's last minute, but he had other conflicts, and you're one of my best mates. You-" Simon rambles before you swiftly interject.

"Simon, what are you waffling on about? You can't be serious," you say seriously. The grogginess from waking up immediately disappears, and you begin to regret picking up the phone.

"I know it's mad, but we've tossed around a ball quite a bit before-"

"I haven't seriously played footy since I was in high school! I can't imagine the shit I'd get if I were to even step foot into that stadium."

"I know-"

"And I'm the only girl! That's like a misogynist's nightmare, a woman who can think and compete!" Getting on your feet, you pace around your room like a madman. Your free hand finds its way into your hair, coarsing through it multiple times, stressfully.

"Would you let me finish? Then you can decide if it's bollocks or not," Simon asked finally. You heave out a breath of air and then hum in response. The least you could do is give him time to try to convince you.

"Look, it's the first time a lot of them have played football, and some of them play like it's the first time. It's really about having a good time, " he explains, which admittedly puts some of your worries at ease- and gets a small laugh out of you.

"Also.." he says hesitantly, hitching his breath as he trails off. You roll your eyes and groan. Of course, there's more to it; there always is. You sit back onto the edge of the bed, foot impatiently tapping on the wood floor.

"I may have called Will, and he may have told me to ask you; he promised me that with enough begging.. you'd say yes," he says, almost like a question. There's a small hint of teasing when he says it, and you can practically see the prat smiling through the screen.

Your end of the call goes silent. A flush starting at the tips of your ears and growing at the bulbs of your cheeks.

..

In 2018, the day before the charity match, you met Will in person for the first time. You knew of him through brief passing and mentions of him from Cal and the other Sidemen. Yet you never spoke to him until you were messing around with your camera during practice, getting ready to film the match the next day.

"This is who I was telling you about, Will," Cal smiles, grabbing your attention from the camera. You peer over your shoulder to see a younger lad with dark hair standing beside him. You politely set the camera down on the bench and extend your hand out to him.

"Hi, I'm y/n, I've heard good things about you!" you smile, and he leans down, weakly taking your hand and shaking it.

"Hello," he responds, his once loud chatter with Cal made you assume he'd be much more talkative. But now he is quiet and fidgety, and it makes you wonder if you've already made a bad first impression.

"Y/n is our best camerawomen. I ought to get you familiar with her; maybe you can get some good screen time." Cal smirked. Will shoves him lightly with a chuckle.

"I'm not all bad, I reckon," he insists, and you put your hands up defensively.

"Hey, we'll just have to see on the field, won't we?" you express, grabbing the large equipment and getting ready to move it inside. You stand up, getting a better look at his face. He's tall, his hair short and freshly cut, his jawline is carved out sharply, making it hard to go unnoticed.

"Cheeky," Will commented, crossing his arms over each other. And unknowingly, a grin had worked its way onto your face, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. You shrug,

"I gotta get going, it was nice meeting you Will,"

..

Since then, you and Will have kept in contact frequently. He interacted with you on social media, had you come to feature in his videos, and texted you almost every day. Seeing one another once every few months had become every weekend when you moved closer to London. And you can bet that this didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Sharing clothes, traveling together, posting each other, seeing each other more than your own family— you can only assume why everyone has their presumptions.

Yet, you were great at denying, avoiding, and more importantly ignoring these blistering questions on if they or won’t they.

"So.. you called Will first, before calling me?" you ask slowly, processing it yourself. The pads of your fingers rub against your temple, then smoothing your palm across your cheek hoping it would brush away the pink that dusted your face.

"Yeah," Simon says quickly. "Is it more convincing now? "

"Fuck off,"

"I know it is," he insists. You mutter profanities under your breath before letting it go silent.

Because it is much more convincing knowing that Will had that kind of faith and trust in you. It's more convincing knowing the person closest to you would be right by your side. You weigh out the options in your head. If you do play, you'll get to say you played in front of 30,000 people, raised money for charity, and more importantly, were able to help out some of your closest friends.

"Simon, I don't know.." You mutter hesitantly, biting the nail on your thumb. Sure, you had played footy competitively in high school and tossed a ball around here and there with the lads, but other than that, you hadn't really played in a few years now.

"C'mon, you don't have to be any good, it's for charity y/n! You have to! There will be loads of fans happy that you're playing!" Simon coaxed. You shake your head instantly, knowing that half the boys lived and breathed football.

“You can’t say I don’t have to be any good when you’re probably one of the best players out there.” Countering his argument, you can tell you're at the breaking point. He's cracked you down efficiently, being nice, complimenting you, bringing Will into it- It's working so well you almost hate him for it.

“I’ve exhausted my options, y/n, please, this one time, and I’ll never ask again.” Simon protests. You huff, exasperated, and without letting another beat pass,

"Alright,"

"Alright?" he repeats, the surprise evident in his tone. You gnaw at your bottom lip, adn squeezed your eyes shut before speaking again.

"Yeah, okay, put me in." You decide finally. You can hear movement on the other end and a few other voices shout in delight. Of course, he couldn't be alone when he made the phone call.

"Oh my god, this will be legendary, thank you, thank you, thank you," Simon begins excitedly, which brings a smile to your face. Simon, even though he always was teetering on the edge of your limit, was charming and kind and that's what makes it hard to deny him.

"You're playing center, by the way. See you in a week mate!" and the phone call clicks. There, you're left to stare at your phone screen, watching as you get added to a group chat and texts start to roll in.

One week, seven days, to magically get good at football again. Right, well, it’s much too late to turn back now.

"Cheers," muttering to yourself. You fall back onto the bed, checking your messages to see a new one from Will.

"wanna show this novice the ropes?"

Word obviously spreads fast, is the first thing you think. And then you snort, with a quick eye roll, the pads of your fingers drumming against the screen.

"fuck off" you begin to type but instead you text back,

“pitch at 6 sharp"

And almost immediately Will texts back,

“wouldn’t miss it :)”

⚽️...

You arrive to the pitch first, bringing an old ball covered in dirt from when you had last dribbled with Chris. Will arrives shortly after, a wide smile and an excited pep to his jog.

“Six sharp!” he says, checking his watch to show you it's exactly 6pm. Will is very timely; he’s considerate of people's time and even makes an extra effort to arrive early. He never wants to be the wanker who shows up late and wastes others time and efforts.

"That ball is just filthy, innit?" he comments, his true Geordie accent making a clear appearance. You roll your eyes quickly.

“I don't see yours anywhere,” you respond, finishing up tying the laces of your shoes. You rock on your feet a few times, creasing the shoe and getting it to warp around your feet snugly.

"Fair enough." Immediately, Will picks the ball up and twirls it between his fingers. "What should we do first?"

You both practice dribbling, passing, and shooting. Eventually, moving on to striking and stealing, which gets aggressive, causing you to have bruises all along your legs. Will thinks that after a while, it's a good idea to mess around so you both don't end up hating each other. The time passes by swiftly, the sun setting behind you both before you realize it.

The sky is highlighted with hues of orange, yellow, and a deep red in the horizon. You turn to look at Will; his shoulder grazes your side, and as if on cue, he looks at you, too.

He silently smiles, and for a second it’s all it is, but then his hand comes up and brushes the cool of your cheekbone. He brushes the stray hair that fell, tucking it behind your ear. Smoothing down any hairs that stuck out on the back of your head with his palm.

Will always find an excuse to touch you, to be physically closer. He’s an affectionate person, you’ve always riddled it as. Oh, there’s a stray hair on your face, oh a piece of fuzz on your sweater, don’t worry if you’re nervous— his hand crawls its way onto the small of your back. And every time he did something like this, your feelings soared and free-fall in the air. You don’t know how much longer you can swallow down the shyness you feel when it happens.

Instead, you give him a small shove.

“Stop it,”

“I was just helpin’ ya,” his voice squeaks.

“Just like how you helped get Simon to convince me to play in the match next week?” You shove the ball into his chest, backing up, motioning him to play. He lets out an airy chuckle, rolling the ball onto the field and dribbling it between his feet.

“Heard about that didn’t you?”

He kicks it toward you.

“Mhmm. “

And you kick it, hard, right back.

“I didn’t help him; all I did was suggest that he ask you because you’re reliable.” Will tried to dribble around you, but it rolled just far away enough for you to steal it.

Will runs towards the goal post, attempting to block you or maybe even tackle you, you aren’t sure. From the times you’ve watched Will play, his limbs tend to fly around and it’s like he’s just experienced walking for the first time.

“And not because you know I wouldn’t say no to the prat?”

“Look, to make it up to you I’ll score you a goal at the game,” Will offers, making you raise your eyebrows. He says semiseriously, but you have a feeling it’s more joking than anything. He was always good with banter anyway.

“Yeah right,” You walk back, running up to the ball and kicking it with the side of your foot— flying into the right corner of the net.

Wills eyes widen as he watches you jog over to grab the ball again.

“And you’re the one who needs practice?” he pipes, forgetting about the conversation. You smile shyly and shake your head, grabbing the ball and handing it to Will.

"You think too highly of me, Will." His hands cup yours, causing you to look up at him. The eye contact is soft, yet his eyes squint, and you notice the small clench of his jaw.

"I don't think so. I reckon others think the world of you as well, " Will retorted seriously.

There it is again. What is so small and meaningless to him is the grandest gesture you could ever receive. Whatever way you feel is growing, and you're letting it kill you. You can hear it in the silence, see it with the lights off, and feel it when he steps into a room. It has never been clearer to you than now.

Will notes the silence on your end, reeling back his hands and letting the ball drop to the ground. He scratches the back of his neck before sweeping the ball between his feet and turning around.

"We should focus, shouldn't we? Keep practicing," he mutters absentmindedly. The words are caught in your throat, itching on the tip of your tongue. It takes every atom of your being not to blurt out your every thought. You try to ground yourself by moving your fingers, shaking off the tingling feeling Will left. Your mouth opens to say something, anything, but it snaps shut at the sight of the geordie man looking back at you.

So, instead, you ignore the interaction completely.

"Yeah, let's do that, practice."

And that’s what you did. Every day for a week, you both played until your fingers were numb and noses pink from the chill. The sun would be long gone, the stars visible in the dark, the dim lights that lit the field flickering during the times when they were ready to turn off.

And every night, when Will offered to take you home, you said yes. Will would walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, his shoulder would bump into yours, and you would listen quietly to anything he had to say. He would go on and on and on the entire way home, and you still would ask if he wanted to come inside your flat for a few.

A few minutes would be you showing him your next video, and then you would cook together, and he would sit on your couch and scroll through his phone. The time moved quicker than it did on the field, causing you both to stay up late into the night.

“Where are you going?” You question from the couch, eyeing the way he begins to walk over to the door. He stands up straighter than before, looking at his phone, and then back up at you.

“Home, it’s late,” he reminded.

“Exactly. Stay, don’t act like you haven’t before,” you insist, already going to grab a few blankets and pillows for Will on the couch.

Some nights weren’t always like this. Sometimes, you’d watch something on the telly, and he’d scroll through his phone. Your body would press against his casually, like you two have done for months. Except you're more weary and hesitant, feeling like your every move was a gesture of something more.

For a week it felt like you two were playing house. It was odd, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. When James would call Will there would be quiet snickering, loud teasing. Faith and Sabina would ask for updates after seeing both of your story posts. When Simon called Will to see if he was coming to training day, he asked to speak to you knowing you’d be around.

Yet this didn’t stop the overnights at your flat, it didn’t stop Will from doing his work from your room, it didn’t prevent you from doing loads of laundry together, and it definitely didn’t stop you both from taking the train together to the hotel the day before the match.

⚽️…

The ground below you rumbles from the audience in the stadium. As the time passes you know it’s getting closer and closer to the start of the match. Your leg bounces up and down as you stretch in your own locker room, your hands shake putting on the red uniform, there’s a dryness in your throat that not even all the water in the world could wash away.

“You alright?” Wills asks quietly as his hand slips onto your shoulder. He’d been asking if you were okay ever since you lot left the hotel. And everytime you responded,

“Yeah, yeah,” except your eyebrows were knitted together, your hands picked at the beds of your nails, and you could barely interact with anyone without feeling like passing out.

“Don’t psyche yourself out, darlin. I make a fool of myself every year, all you have to do is show up and you’ve done your part!” he says delicately. You inhale through your nose at the nickname, jaw clenching to focus on breathing. All you do is nod, giving him a small smile.

You aren’t sure what will kill you first, the charity match, or the yearning in your heart. And hopefully, it’ll be the charity match.

Once everyone begins to stand, it’s three o’clock, and just like that the world begins to move incredibly fast. The lads begin two straight lines, moving through the tunnel swiftly. They all seem so confident and excited and you don’t think you even remember how to run. With Will standing infront of you, he’s the only thing that is blocking you and your vision from the roaring crowd outside.

Forgetting his gopro is on, you tap on Wills shoulder

“I’m literally shitting myself right now Will,” he laughs and he takes your hand in to his for a moment with a small squeeze,

“We’ll be all right, swear,” and by the time he turns around, you’re out in the field and the roar of the audience is jarring. You’re convinced your head whips an entire 360 to get a good look at how big the crowd was.

Once you’re down the field, you’re shaking hands with the opposing team. You nod politely and greet your friends, making polite, quick, small talks with JJ, Vik, Josh, Harry, and then Simon. You brief him with a handshake and shove at him lightly,

“God if this goes to shit, i’m blaming it all on you, ya know that?” you joke and he laughs loudly.

“I’ll keep that in mind, y/n”

You greet Chris, Tobi, and Jimmy finally before jogging your way to center to get ready for the kick off. You look back and squint your eyes to see Will as right wing, he can see you and he shows you a thumbs up. And for a moment, it washes away your nerves, until the whistle blows and the game has begun.

..

The first half of the match goes by incredibly fast. Chunkz and Niko make the first goals of the match, allowing for the teams spirits to remain high. You’re able to say that you helped assist Niko with his goal, tackling the ball under four large men. The next goal was made by Vik, and as a good sport, and friend, you made your way over to congratulate him properly.

You stay close to Hp and Chunkz during this time, the only two you feel like trust you enough with the ball. The banter is great but the encouragement they give you is better.

As the sweat beads on your forehead, your chest rises and falls quickly. Everytime you manage to catch your breath, you’re off running again. Your eyes squint looking towards Danny, seeing him get ready for the throw-in. You look around at your team and you eyes are quickly looking for Will, to see he’s already looking at you.

There’s a small smile followed by a little wave. You feel your chest tighten again, this overwhelming feeling is all so sudden and new. The sweaty palms, the overthinking, the flush on your neck. Hopefully it’s all from nerves, and not just from the Geordie man.

The moment ended as quick as the moment came, because Danny Aaron’s then throws the ball into the field. Luckily for you, you were on the edge of the box. The ball comes rolling toward you fast, you’re able to dribble it between your feet, swiftly moving past Callux. You decide to create space between the two of you, but with the other team circling in on you, the only thing to do was shoot.

So, you shoot.

The ball is headed straight towards the net and looks like it could make it past the post, but to your disappointment, the ball bounces off the post and goes right back onto the field.

“Shit,” you mutter out, a hand wracking through your hair ready to run after the ball again. But, Theo is quick to take the ball from under one of the lads on the opposing team, making a quick recovery by striking and making the goal.

A breath you didn’t know you’d been holding finally came out. While you smile and clap for Theo, your energy is low and you are so tired.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice yells from behind you, and you’re quick to turn around. Wills hair is pushed back and sweaty, yet he doesn’t think twice before engulfing you into a bone crushing hug.

“Not making a fool of myself am I?” you ask, pulling away to look at him. Will chuckles and shakes his head immediately,

“That’s a joke, right? You’re ridiculous,” he says sincerely and breathlessly. You thank him briefly before substitutions start to happen, allowing there to be some down time.

Which give you the time to remember what he said to you the first time you had practiced together.

“You still promised me a goal,” You mention, before looking into the gopro on his chest, “Will owes me a goal today, and I better get it,”

“I didn’t promise anything,” he counters quickly. Your head tilts at this, with wide eyes, and he nervously laughs and rubs his neck. Even though he knows you’re joking, he still feels the need to fulfill it.

“You know what, I’ll.. do my best to. I can promise you that, y/n.” And without warning, the lot of you are off again.

…

4 - 3

After the first half of the match, it’s looking promising for your team. Theo scored another goal, and spirits were still high. You were able to switch out and take a needed breather. But after the second half of the match started, that’s when your team started to take a tumble.

You were off the pitch until Pinero got injured, and needed a substitute. So with half a bottle of gatorade and an electrolyte packet in your system, you hopped to your feet and ran back on the field. Once you hear that Simon is getting switched out with Chris, you sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter under your breath, knowing that Chris is a force to be reckoned with. Speed also gets switched off the field, and you’re not sure without him you guys could win. You look around hoping to find a familiar face, but for some reason you can’t find him. Where is the left wing player?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the blow of the whistle, allowing the match to continue. You see the ball fly in the air, and you’re on your feet, going wide incase someone needs to pass. But the ball goes farther and faster than you could run, that’s when you see Will.

Will runs from left back and goes towards the net like he’s a striker. He runs right past Ethan and Harry, getting a close range of the ball. Once Chunkz taps it down, Will slides toward the ball, knocking it into the net.

In the 80’ minute, Will scores what could be the final goal of the match.

“Oh my god,” you say aloud, mouth agape.

In the moment you got tunnel vision. All you could see is Will getting on his feet and spin on his heels looking for something, someone. Everyone starts to run towards Will, to congratulate him, to dogpile on him. But when his eyes land on you, he bolts toward you with all his might.

As he’s running, he’s yelling something, pointing at you. He says it multiple times, too quick for you to make out.

“What!?” You yell breathlessly, leaning forward like you were going to be able to magically tell what he said. But without warning Will comes crashing into you, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, almost losing your footing.

Guess you’ll have to find out what he said later.

When you pull away, you grab onto his shoulders firmly, bouncing with delight.

“Did you see that? I haven’t scored a goal like that ever, i’ve always been in the back—“

“I know! I know!” you cut in between his excitement.

“I’m so glad you were here to see that—“ He’s quickly cut off by the rest of the team congratulating him. Patting him on the shoulder, squeezing him into a brief hug, Chris even comes over and says he’s done well.

You begin to back off to get back into the center field, watching as the smile on Wills face takes over him completely. He radiates warmth, sunshine, and complexities. The ache with quiet yearning, watching him celebrate. There was nothing in the world like it, and if it meant having Will this way rather than not at all- you’ll live with this ache forever.

8 - 7

The match finishes briefly after Will scores. Manny scoring at the 86’ minute tying up the two teams. And Simon, of course, gets the last goal of the match putting his team first. Your team is able to score another point, Theo ends up stepping up to kick the ball and Pie face blocks it from the net. Meaning, the Sidemen have won. Regardless, everyone is in a good mood no matter the turnout. All the players rush towards the field, congratulating each other, briefing the match that just ended.

You thank Hp and Chunkz for a good game, and shake Theos hand for being another good defensive player with you.

Simon makes his way over to you and he puts his hands on the tops of your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“See! It wasn’t so bad was it?” he teased. You roll your eyes and lick the dryness off your lips, admittedly, it wasn’t so bad. After you got over the burning in your chest, the ache in your sides, and the soreness in your thighs.

“Uh no, no, wasn’t too bad. I stayed with Hp and Chunkz a lot of the time, we were all playing really well,” you say before asking how Simon think he did.

“I got a hat trick and three assist, what more could I have asked for?”

“That’s fair,” is all you can respond with. All you can think of is the times you could’ve tried to score, the times you weren’t able to make a good pass, or interfere a pass. Simon reads your mind as he sees the conflict on your face, quick to bring you back to reality.

“I mean you were really great. A few assists, you and Theo on defense was a nightmare, there is no complaints on my end. I hope you consider coming back and playing again, Y/n, seriously.” Simon squeezes your shoulder one last time before he sees Harry, the two rushing towards one another excitedly.

You turn around to see Elz and Munga coming up to you with their mics, a cameraman following. They pull you away from the group of lads whilst everyone gets ready to clap around the stadium. Taking a step back upon seeing the camera, a lopsided smile creeps up on your face.

"Y/n, what an incredible match. You were all over the pitch this game! Can you give us some words about your first time playing in a Sidemen charity match and how it felt?" The mic comes in your face, and you let out an airy chuckle.

"Yeah..um, I haven't played footy since high school, really. When Simon asked for me to play, I was.. reluctant at first, you know, but now I'm really glad I said yes." You rattled on.

"We saw some great strikes on the pitch. How do you feel about barely missing the goal during the first half?" Munya asks.

Licking your lips, you let a beat go by for a moment so you can think. The question poses room for scrutiny from the audience; you can feel your stomach churn, anxiety creeping up on the hairs on the back of the neck. You knew if you seemed too confident, people would not like that, but if you seemed too humble, people would condemn you too.

"Uhm... That's a great question," you begin to say, craning your neck to look for comfort. Your eyes try to find someone in the swarm of people, desperate to get away from the hosts.

"It was my first time! I definitely could've made it if I had been a bit closer or wasn’t getting closed in on,” you finish honestly. There, you see Will is staying back to wait for you. His eyes are wide, and his head is slightly tilted; it's a tender look that was being reserved for you.

"We are thrilled to have you here, and we hope you come back next year,” Elz says and you thank them both quickly before jogging over to Will.

He doesn’t say anything, instead all he does is wrap his arm around your shoulder and guides you to where everyone else is doing their claps around the stadium. You’re curious to see if this moment will make the video, or any of the other ones between the two of you, after all it is up to Mikey.

You find yourself smiling at the crowd, the people, the cameras. In that moment, you truly felt like you belonged and deserved to be there. Saying hello to fans, signing papers, and receiving handmade items. Although, you knew that once this was over, you'd be under mass criticism. You'd go on Twitter and see everyone criticizing how you played, but getting the validation from your mates was all the resignation you needed to tune those other voices out.

“Why the sour face?” Will leans down to whisper to you, amongst the ruckus the lot is making as they leave the pitch.

“Nothing gets past you,” commenting, crossing your arms over on another. He rolls his eyes and groans at this.

“I know you,”

For a second you debate sucking it up, going to the pubs to celebrate with everyone after. Or, going back to the hotel room for the night, and getting ready to leave as soon as possible to see your cats back at home.

“All I want to do is go home, really,” you sigh. Wills face doesn’t change, all he does is hum in response before looking at his phone to see the time.

“Yeah? Why don’t we go back to the hotel and get going,” he suggests simply. You quirk an eyebrow, knowing that prior he was more than willing to go to the pubs with everyone.

“Is.. that what you want?” asking hesitantly. Giving him time to think, and change his mind. But without another beat passing he nods his head.

“Not what about what I want, let’s get home,”

He flashes you a soft, genuine smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. Will smooths your hair done with his palm like always, before silently walking to the locker room to change.

You’re left to stand there, cheeks flushing. Home. Insinuating that home is with you. All of this feels so natural, the soft touches, the quiet intimacy, the longing stares. You wonder how long it’s going to take for you to crack, to risk it all and reveal the raw truth. But, for another day, you can hold on to the pieces of Will that you already have.

TAGLIST:

@mosviqu @ivvees-blog @ooostarwarsfandom501st

( if you would like to be on future tag lists please ask!)

[hellsenthero]

A Creature of the Night

Vampire!Azriel X Reader

Warnings: Smut (and a touch of blood.)

MASTERLIST

Azriel was quick to adjust to life as a vampire. For centuries, he lived his life, not happy, but content. Content in his knowledge that he was a creature of the night and nothing and no one could change that.

But then he met you.

And suddenly, Azriel hated what he was. He hated the danger he posed to you. He hated that he couldn't give you the things he wanted to in life. He hated that he was a monster, something so ugly and horrific compared to your gentle beauty. But what he hated the most was that you loved him through all of it. He hated it, and yet, he was an inherently selfish creature. Unless you said so, he wouldn't let go of you.

“I love you,” Azriel groaned as he thrust into you. You lay splayed out on the bed beneath him, legs wrapped around his hips and head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck, Az,” you cried. He groaned as your walls squeezed him even tighter. “Love you, fuck. Love you so much.”

“Fucking perfect,” Azriel admitted. His pace picked up. One had grasped yours while the other propped himself up.

“Bite me,” you ordered.

Azriel slowed his thrusting. “No,” he groaned. “I can't. I'll hurt you.”

“No,” you answered. Your right hand came to grasp his cheek, urging him to look at you in the eyes. “You won't hurt me, Az.”

“You can't promise me that.” Azriel answered. He went to pull out but your legs held firm.

“I can.” You answer. A soft, beautiful smile bloomed across your face, and Azriel almost believed you. "You've done it before,"

"Once," Azriel cut in. "And I'm still not happy about it."

"And it didn't hurt," you finished. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he couldn't help but melt further into you. "You're pale, you need to feed." You thrust down on his cock, pulling a groan out from his clenched mouth. "Now's the perfect time. Don't you wanna taste me?"

"All the time," Azriel admitted.

"Then do it. Fuck me and bite me and fill me up as you drink from me." Your hips continued to move, bringing pleasure to the both of you. Slowly, Azriel begun to pick up his own pace once more.

"Do you realize what you're asking?" He asked.

"Yes, and I trust you."

"Fuck," Azriel groaned. He lowered his head to press a kiss to your lips, and then your cheek, and everywhere he could reach. "You're too perfect, too good for me." Azriel admitted between kisses.

"No," you argue back. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving Azriel as much access to your neck as possible. "We're both good for each other, we're perfect for each other."

"I love you." You didn't have time to answer Azriel before he was biting into your neck. You cried out as you reached your climax. Your limbs fell lax from a mixture of pleasure and venom.

"Az," you moan. You moaned and cried and you didn't know if it was from the sensation of his cum coating your walls as he reached his own end, the sweet haze of a venom filled mind, or just the feeling of Azriel’s mouth on you, drinking you in. All you knew was that you were calm and happy and really fucking satisfied.

Azriel detached from you after one final taste of your blood. His lips were bloody, but you didn't care as you pulled him in for a kiss.

"How are you?" He asked after he finally pulled away from you.

"S' good," you slurred.

Azriel chuckled. "Yeah? I didn't hurt you?"

"No, didn' hurt. S' good, Az."

Azriel smiled. Leaning down, he licked up a stray drop of blood off of your neck, at the same time he pulled his cock out of you, pulling a groan from both of your chests.

"Happy now, needy thing?"

You laughed. "Yeah, you?"

Azriel's smile grew even wider. "Yeah, I'm happy," he pressed another kiss to your lips. "Really fucking happy."

[vainvenus]

mind games. | ln4. | pt.1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You're still on edge with everything that has been happening lately you hope that the paddock could be a safe place but it's very clear that it's not, if anything you feel even more crazy than at home.

Includings: Dark!Lando Norris, stalking, theft, gaslighting, manipulating, paranoia, mentions of sleep deprivation

An: Two posts in one day? Yeah y'all won't see me for a month

As much as you tried to convince yourself it was just your mind and memory playing tricks on you, you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching you very carefully but kept slipping up like a shadow whose movements were a moment too late.

It wasn't the obvious kind of watching, the kind that you knew was happening like someone staring at you from across the bar or being watched while talking in a group of people. No, this was the kind of watching that creeps up behind you and leaves the hair on the back of your neck standing up and wondering if that gaze was ever really there.

And it was kind of hard to ignore that kind of staring. One where you weren't quite sure if you were being watched or if you were just overthinking. It was heavy and almost commanded attention.

You didn't even know who to tell anymore. You knew that Chanel didn't want to hear about it again, you had called the police and they had told you that there weren't any signs of breaking and entering. You considered telling Max or anyone else on the Grid but what help would they be? They would probably just tell you you were stressed and imagining things.

Which you weren't. You knew you weren't.

Right?

And you thought that you would be safe at the paddock, it was such a huge space that there shouldn't be any reason for you to feel like you still had unwanted eyes on you but you did.

You were exhausted so maybe that was the reason for your heightened paranoia. It was hard to sleep when you felt like you were playing a game that you didn't even know the rules of or when you couldn't shake off the feeling that there was someone else in your room, watching over you like some sick and twisted guardian angel.

You had made it through the paparazzi and multiple fans wanting pictures or for you to sign something. You sucked it up, pretended that there was absolutely nothing wrong and that you didn't feel like every moment you spent alone was the complete opposite.

You were putting on your gloves, leaning against the wall and thinking about your current situation when a voice had pulled you from your thoughts.

"Long night?"

The voice came from in front of her, amused and casual. His tone was light but there was something about the way he had stared down at her—too knowing, like he already knew the answer.

You stiffened. "What?"

He tilted his head, raising his brows. "You just look...a little tired."

There's something about his tone, the small glint in his eyes as if he's waiting for the answer although he already knows it and you dont miss the way the edge of his lips curl up a bit.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Yeah...just...a little stressed lately so sleep has been rough.

He nods. "I'm always here if you need to talk."

"Thanks." You avoid looking him in the eye as you walk past him so that you can walk to your car but as soon as you do, you freeze.

He smelled familiar. Too familiar.

"What are you wearing?"

His brows furrowed. "My race suit? I thought the papaya made that pretty obvious."

"No." You mumbled, turning to face him. Your gaze narrows slightly as he gives you a confused expression and you press on. "Your cologne."

"Oh, it's a gift from a fan. Can't remember the name of it to save me." He chuckled.

"It's just...it smells like the one I lost."

Lando raised his brows in slight surprise and his brows furrow as he smells his wrist before giving his attention back to you. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, slowly, almost like you aren't too sure yourself since his reaction shows that he doesn't feel the same. He hummed, his confusion flickering away too quickly, replaced by something unreadable. "What a coincidence."

The look on his face. You didn't know if the lack of sleep had you imagining things but you could've sworn his smile felt coy and the narrowed glance he gave was as if he was daring you to say something about it.

Like he wanted you to say something else. Like he knew what you were thinking and he was three steps ahead. At your silence he tilted his head and raised his brows with a pointed expression.

You blinked at him, your voice caught in your throat, the words tangled in there like a trap—like he set it.

That would just be ridiculous. Accusing a millionaire of stealing some niche vanilla perfume you kept in your home. It just wouldn't make any sense, now would it?

"Yeah..a coincidence." You half-heartedly agreed and he gave you another smile before he leaned in, much closer this time. The scent hit you like a memory you weren't supposed to have, curling around you like smoke and creeping into the cracks of your mind before you could stop it.

"You should get some sleep tonight," Lando said, his tone laced with something that felt like concern—felt, but didn't quite sound like it. "It's not like you to get confused over something so small."

His lips curled into the faintest smile as he pulled back but his eyes were locked on yours with that glint of something that couldn't quite decipher. He raised a brow. "Or has that been happening a lot lately?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and nearly glared at him before you answered. "No."

"Hm."

And with that he had left the garage and you stood there with that same feeling that you had the entire week. That something wasn't right and this was setting off every single alarm in your mind and body.

Even after he left the scent clung to the air like a ghost refusing to fade away. The familiar vanilla and musk scent that shouldn't have been there at all was back and it was like a punch straight to the gut.

Lando wasn't even a fan of vanilla scents. Anything he wore was more musky and masculine so why? Why had he switched all of a sudden to the perfume that was so clearly yours.

Max entered the garage, catching a whiff of the scent and he gave you a small smile. "It smells good in here, are you trying out a new perfume again?"

Your brows furrowed. If anyone knew your signature scent it would be Max. You spent more time with him than anyone else on the grid. He should recognize it immediately. You shook your head, pure confusion spread across your face.

"No? You...You don't think it smells exactly like the one I lost?" You question.

'"No? Not even close. Yours was warmer and less sweet." The redbull driver replied. His brows furrowed as he stared at you with an expression of concern. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been really...off."

You don't respond—because what could you even say? That the scent is the same except it somehow isnt. That it's yours but not yours? You sound insane. So you only nod and start to put on your racing gloves.

★

Q1 was less than ideal.

Your out lap fwlr sluggish. The tires weren't quite there yet, but it’s more than that. You brake into Turn 1 and the car twitches under you—too late, too deep. You gritted your teeth, correcting, but it costs you time.

“You’re losing two tenths in Sector 2,” Your engineer stated.

You groaned. You reset. Try again.

The next lap is better, but not good.

P11. Barely through to Q2.

As you pulled into the pits, you cught a glimpse of a screen. The commentators’ voices drift through the garage.

“…not her usual self today.”

“…hesitant....looked unsure…”

You ripped off your helmet and stepped out of the car, shaking out your hands.

And then you felt it.

A stare.

You try not to think about it too much. It's Qualifying and you're at the paddock, of course it felt like somebody was watching you because somebody was whether it be a fan, an engineer or another driver.

You took a sip from your water bottle, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you try to focus on what you can do to make sure that Q2 is a better session.

The tires felt better this run. You're much more dialed in. You took a deep breath as you crossed the line, opening up the throttle.

Turn 1—clean.

Turn 3—decent.

And then the sound starts.

A whisper of static in your earpiece. Just for a second.

You flinched.

It’s nothing. Probably just interference.

You pushed forward, trying to ignore the way your heart has picked up.

But then it happened again.

Not just static. A voice. Too faint to catch, gone before you can register it.

Your hands tightened on the wheel.

You missed the apex of Turn 8. A fraction off-line, but it cost you a tenth.

“Sector 2 isn’t great,” Your engineer said.

You already knew.

You grit your teeth and try again. But the next lap isn’t enough.

P13.

You were out.

You sat in your car for a second longer than necessary. The world outside the cockpit moved on without you.

Q2 should've been easy. You should've made it to Q3 just as Max did. You got out of the car and out of frustration had kicked one of the wheels before storming through the garage and everyone moved out of the way, not even trying to send encouraging words that would only make you feel more bitter.

But then you heard it.

“…not sure what’s going on with her, but something’s off today.”

You don't need to turn and see who it was that said it because it doesn't matter who said it. What mattered was that they were right as much as it irked her to think about it.

The garage is quieter now.

Your race suit feels too tight, your skin warm with frustration. You grabbed your gloves and shoved them into your bag.

And then you froze.

Something glass brushed against your fingers.

You reached inside and pulled it out.

A glass perfume bottle.

The one you tore your room apart looking for. The one you swore you lost. The one you swore you could smell in your home when you hadn't worn it in days. The one you swore you could smell on Lando the moment you walked past him in the garage

Your stomach dropped.

It was gone. It was missing. And now it’s here.

In your race bag.

Right where you never put it.

But it looked exactly how you remembered it, it didn't look like there was any more of it missing than what there was when the last time you used it.

You held it up to your nose, inhaling it softly before you stared back down at the bottle. You could feel your heart slamming against your chest, your throat felt tight and your hands shaking.

It smelled nothing like Lando that morning.

[redhood414]

Headcannons: reader being excited about books

Warnings: mostly fluff, a bit of spicy books mentioned and his reaction. A spicy text. No further. Suggestive afterwards, but no other stuff.

Dick Grayson

•Just calmly shopping with you, your arms hooked when you saw a book you really wanted. He's never seen you so excited when you started pointing and giggling about it. Rambling on. That's how he found out you LOVED books, and how could he refuse? Anything for his girl.

•After that you read everyday when you could or random in the night. When you randomly jumped up with a "YES" at 3am he woke up groggy. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" He frowned but eased up when he saw the book. You explained the enemies just kissed and confessed. Weird but he took it, he made you agreed tho to sleep at night.

•When he found out about your booklist and the Goodreads app, he downloaded it secretly on his phone with your account and looked at your wishlist. Anything added he bought. The next day after you added another book and he had to leave for work, you'd always find your book you wanted with a little note. "Here's your book, baby. Enjoy and tell me everything about it afterwords❣︎ PS: chocolate waffles are in the fridge"

•Spicy books: by accident looked in one of your spicy books, will be shocked cause what happened to his innocent lover?! When he found out about your 'bookboyfriends' he got slightly jealous. Tall and tattooed men with wings and fearies? Yeah he's better then that! So when you're at work he'll literally send a pic of him out the shower with abs exposed. "Let's recreate those scenes after you get back, Little Wing xoxo"

(He kept his word)

•EXTRA: the trend booktok lean thing

When you ask him to do that, he raises his eyebrow. He was just relaxing on the couch when you came up to to him. "Dickiee...can you do this?" You explain it quickly and he gets it. He's seen the trend. Soon your against the doorframe and he's leaning over you, a plus point to the fact he's wearing a loose sweater and the smirk he's wearing. "Like this?" His arms traps your head and you get so flustered you sack in. Adorable. He soon carries you to bed to cuddle you. All his.

Jason Todd

•He found out you loved books when he saw you randomly reading Pride and Prejudice, his favorite book. God, could you be more perfect? Eventually he asked to go join a book club, he's getting more into socialising and the book club is nice, a few older men and women are there and a few twenties.

•This man will use poetry to flirt with you. He hates the usual stuff today. Yeah he'll say you're sexy and stuff but not often. He'll usually say randomly at any time a quote from a book, poetry or a romantic novel. Even a text at a random hour when hes on patrol. "Hey princess, I know I haven't seen you today since we're both so busy, but Im jealous of all the people who could see you shine today" it cheesy and only you can see that side. If his brothers saw he'd be mortified.

•Hell also read the books you read, any genre, even if he dislikes it. He wants to know what you like and dislike so he can buy sometimes a book for you or bookmarks, markers, merch. Etc. Anything to see you smile and giggle when you see what he got. 'Jay you didn't have too!" You say when you see the little necklace from a book you read. He smiles. "I know, but I wanted too."

•Spicy: expected it. Under all that innocent lovely deamonar of yours knew he was a slightly dirtier side. Maybe you were ashamed to show it to him, but he'll read it calmly. Most things he frowns at because, what the actual f*CK that some men in those books treat their women. When you ask him to recreate it, he'll refuse, but will recreate some scenes he agrees too, on terms your both comfortable with.

•Booktok trend.

Was in the middle of working out shirtless when you came in with a book and poked his cheek. "Jayyy...can you do this?" He looked up first in confusion, but soon he understood what you wanted. He knows you love his muscles and how tall he is (makes him feel less insecure about his scars because you actually found it pretty.) He quickly towers over you, muscles flexing in his arms as he gazes down at you. "This what you wanted, princess?" He lifts your chin while leaning with one hand next to your head. You gave a small nod as you feel your heart racing. "Good, I'll do it more often." When you try to look away his eyes narrow and presses a kiss against your lips and throws you soon GENTLY over his shoulder. (There followed more after)

Tim Drake

•Loves that you're as much as a nerd as he is, just in another aspect. He reads a lot, just not really the romantic novels like you do. He doesn't get the essantiel of it, but he'll read it. He raises an eyebrow at what you think is romantic. Like getting roses or necklaces or other stuff. Will do research what the most popular authors there were from your fav genre and will buy them all even before they stand on your booklist.

•The thing you two did is teach each other about the stuff you loved, while he loved programming and learned it to you and any more stuff (which you barely understood) he appreciated you trying and showing interest. You always talked about the excitement in thrilling books or romantic scenes. He loved to recreate those romantic ones, your favourite flower with a random note. Or a small gift in the week. When you ask what's that for? Hell just answer: "just wanted to show you I appreciate you and that I love my girl" yes. Your heard that right. *His* girl. Unexpect, but pleasant.

•booktok doorframe lean

Doesn't understand the thrilling thing about it. Isn't it intimidating? But eventually he notices you're...into that? Strangely enough. Eventually he gives in (cause he can't say no to you, have you looked at your face? You look like an angel). With that shirt and that tie, so professional, he carefully leans in, his fingers in your hair and his hand holding yours. You melt.

Damian Wayne

•Doesnt understand the thing about romantic novels until he met you. He listens more but pays attention to everything. A new book to your wishlist? Will buy everything: merch, limited editions, special editions, bookmarks. Book broken? Just a tiny tear in it? New book. A book from a serie? Buys the whole serie.

•When you ask him to read a romantic novel you liked he first refused but in secret he read them all already. Alfred knew but kept quiet. Will randomly say something unexpected with made you grin like a child. "I liked chapter 34 better." He says when you say your favorite chapter. God. Your smile made his heart race.

•Will attend balls and events from books and stuff. If authors are there he'll be sure to get the book signed for you (doesn't mention he threatened them slightly, you'd never let him live it down).

•Spicy: will read it anywhere without shame. When he felt a judge look, he'd be ready to punch the man. "These are my woman's books. You got something to say about her taste?" Will recreate them afterwards with you without you even asking.

•booktok doorframe

When you asked it, he didn't even need to be explained by you what you meant. He soon carefully shoved you up to the wall and leaned against it. He was wearing a tight sleeveless shirt and you could see his muscles perfectly. You swooned for him, but he more for you. His hand on your hip and his other pinning your hand to the wall. "Like this, darling?"

[mclager]

Hints | Landoscar x reader

Short and fluff just to forget sad Oscar after the Australia GP

Lando and Oscar were filming a interview, I was in the corner of the room trying to be invisible in the middle of staff. It was one of those 'genz will like this' type of interview, so one of the questions was "How is better at flirting?", Lando and Oscar exchanged a look and Lando looked at the interviewer.

"I never saw him flirting, all the time I know him he had a girlfriend."

"You can imagine how he would do if he had to ask a girl out."

"Why it has to be a girl?" Lando blurted out without thinking, Oscar laughed and just then Lando understood what he said, he chuckled too, clearly blushing. The interviewer laughed it off waiting for the answer.

"You can imagine can't you?"

"Yeah, I can, he's probably bad at it. I need to talk to his girlfriend."

"I'm not bad, you know that." I don't know if the interviewer didn't listen or if he just ignored it, but the subject changed quickly.

After the interview ended Oscar and Lando walked towards me while chatting about something.

"Too bored?" Oscar asked as he hugged me.

"Not really, I really liked the part Lando hinted you don't date only women." I chuckled looking at Lando that rolled his eyes.

"Don't even start with that."

"His trying to show that he has a chance, don't blame him." Oscar said jokingly.

"Come on, you can't expect me to not be a good Gen Z and don't fight for your rights of flirting with men." I laughed at him and nodded.

"A great addition to twitter I must say." Oscar rolled his eyes.

"Is not like I told you at my own volition, you can't keep a secret." Osc said with the only intention of picking on Lando.

"Of course I can!" He stayed silent for a second and looked confused at Oscar. "How you didn't tell me at your own volition? You were the one grabbing my waist and flirting all night."

"That was vodka's volition not mine, and you should've said I'm a great flirter."

"You're not."

"You fell for it." Lando couldn't deny it so he just stayed in silence. "Check mate."

"You two sound like a married old couple."

"Close enough." Lando looked around seeing that we were alone.

"Ok, my turn." He took Oscar's arm off me before hugging me. "Why did we agree you would be the one dating her publicly?"

"We didn't, paparazzis did." Oscar said pissed off just from remembering that.

"Oh, yeah, forgot that."

"And they had awful pictures of me."

"You look beautiful no matter what, darling." Lando said before grab my face and give me a quick kiss.

"You know, we should go, work day is over anyway." Oscar said, he smirked and Lando nodded.

"Yes, I agree, too much for keeping my hands to myself." He grabbed Oscar's hair and gave him a quick kiss.

"We should go." I went to grab my purse as Lando and Oscar started to walk towards the exit, and just as we did that a very agitated person walked in the door.

"Oh, sorry, I thought nobody was here." They stopped looking confused at us.

"No worries." Lando smiled at her.

"Something's wrong?" Oscar asked and they picked up a phone that was on top of the table.

"Just forgot this, sorry again, I have to go, bye!" They walked away as quickly as they came in the door.

"That was fucking close." I said stopping by their side.

"Way too close." Lando mumbled looking at me and Oscar.

"Let's go." Oscar said and we started to walk away.

"Can we have pizza for dinner tonight?" I asked and they both answered:

"Yes." We laughed, the attention of everyone around was on us after that, turns out, we are awful at hiding our hints.

[gatorbites-imagines]

would love love LOVE to see some invincible x ftm!reader stuff, our ppl are in a drought </3

Mark Grayson x ftm reader 

Headcanons 

You didn't specify which Mark, if it was OG Mark, an alternate Mark, or the petvincibles. And, I wanted to write something more stand together, so here ya go.  

We have been so focused on alt marks on this blog, I felt OG mark needed some love. 

Honestly? I don't think Mark cares too much about you being trans. Unless you guys started dating before you came out, and you had to come out to him. 

Then, he wouldn't fully understand the experience, but Mark has always felt like a very understanding and standup guy.  

Though, he will have a moment where he's wondering if you guys need to break up now, cuz he's always just assumed he was straight. And breaking up would be most respectful for you, right? 

But Mark still loves you, and after a long conversation with William, as he's his like, information point when it comes to LGBT stuff, Mark realizes maybe your gender doesn't really matter if he loves you. 

He wouldn't be comfortable labeling himself just yet, but Mark knows he loves you, and that's all that matters. Now he just has to put up with William laughing and saying that he knew it. 

Hes also a very busy guy, with all the hero stuff and if this is during the time hes still in college. But Mark would still find time to try and research it. 

Expect him to go on reddit or other forums to be like “hey yall, my boyfriend(your age, ftm) just came out to me, and I(19M) wanna be supportive, what can I do to help?” cuz he just wants to do it right. 

No matter how you express yourself, Mark wouldn't be embarrassed about it either. Be if you are fem presenting, masc presenting, neither, or both. As long as you are happy, then Mark would look at you with those most loving puppy eyes. 

Mark also isnt scared to square up with anybody who disrespects you, or other members of the community. Hes always been a big supporter of William, and now he has you, and has just become a lot more aware of the community and how they are treated. 

No cops at pride, only invincible (and the rest of teen team/the guardians if they are at that point). 

Mark is also a big sucker for his partner wearing his clothes I think, no matter what way you present yourself. He would also try his best to help out, if you want help in being more masculine. 

I also don't see Mark as the type of person to struggle with saying he has a boyfriend. The first couple of times might feel weird in his mouth, but that's what you are, and that's how he will describe you. 

Mark openly having a boyfriend will somehow end up with him and Rex becoming friends quicker, because Rex is my bi/pan icon and hell yeah, now they can talk about chicks and dudes together. 

If anybody tries to be gross about it, Rex is the kinda guy to go “we literally wear colorful tight spandex suits, but your problem is that invincible has a boyfriend?” and Mark just goes “yeah man, what the fuck?” 

Mark would get you an invincible themed binder if he can, because you “gotta rep your boyfriend, right?” and cuz hes a damn nerd. There is also a seance dog binder somewhere. 

Mark would somehow get the GDA to pay for your top surgery if you wanted one, like, he does a job for them and is like “only if your best guys do my boyfriends surgery”.  

And like, top surgery has to be one of the cheapest payments they've been asked for. Top surgery paid for by the American government.