#it just felt like they didn’t know what to do with the two of them all season and they ended the season in a less satisfying place

[straylightdream]

desperate measures

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: choi seungcheol x afb.reader

He’s well aware that you’re so mad at him. You look like you want to kill him. There is this twisted thought in his head that keeps egging him on to piss you off more. The way you’re yelling at him is turning him on more than it honestly should.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): roommates to fucking, angst, pwp, smut

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): college au, nonidol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.6k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: asshole!seungcheol, he honestly sucks in this, fuckboy!seungcheol, insinuating that mc is passed around with her roommates, jealous seungcheol, mentions of protective/jealous jeonghan

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: protected sex, dry humping, size kink, heated make out session, hate sex, semi public sex, marking, big dick seungcheol, discomfort do to his size, pussy streching, car sex, rough sex, breast play, p in v intercourse, cock warming?, nicknames: princess, darling (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: I’m pretty sure I’m going to make part two where Jeonghan shows up. Let me know what you guys think. Thank you so much @shinysobi for beta reading and editing and listening to me ramble about this story.

🎧: haven’t had enough - marianas trench | tidal wave - chase atlantic | desperate messures - marianas trench

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Life as a college student was the definition of average for you. Sometimes you just felt like you were skating by. You always thought that throughout college you would have some form of a relationship, but going into your junior year, it seemed no men were interested in you.

It probably didn’t help that you had three boys as roommates who are protective of you. Well, two of them were. Joshua and Jeonghan from the moment they met you decided they were going to be your protectors. You’re some of your best friends. You absolutely love living with them. Seungcheol, on the other hand, you could barely refer to as a friend. You were basically just roommates and that was fine by you.

Your oldest roommate Choi Seungcheol, was known around campus for his abilities in the bedroom. Too many girls have come and gone through your apartment. All of them nameless. You aren’t even sure Seungcheol knows their names. From what you have heard, Seungcheol is the best dick appointment a girl can get. Supposedly his dick was just as big as his ego. You’ve seen enough girls scurry out of your apartment looking a mess and covered in hickies. There is this part deep inside of you that wants to know that wants to know what it’s like to sleep with him.

What was supposed to be a normal day studying with your crush Mingyu, was sabotaged by Seungcheol. You and Mingyu had been talking for a while now. It’s been quite a slow burn you could say.

You liked Mingyu enough that you would even go to frat parties to hang out with him. That’s saying a lot because you despise fraternities. Mingyu was the first frat boy you’ve met that you actually like.

Your afternoon with Mingyu had been going great until Seungcheol showed up.

The moment he saw you sitting at the table in the far corner, away from everyone. There was almost this surge of what he can only describe as jealousy took over him. The whole time you have been living with Seungcheol, he’s never seen you flirt with anyone other than Jeonghan. And to be quite honest, whatever you have with Jeonghan is a whole different can of worms, he doesn’t want to think about. The idea of another man then one of his roommates flirting with you just doesn’t sit right with him.

His eyes narrowed on your giggling form and walked straight towards your table.

“There is my girl.” He’s being an asshole and he knows. To be quite honest, he doesn’t care if this makes him one.

You glare across the table at him. Mingyu knits his brows together as a look of confusion plays across his face.

“Your girl?” You question Seungcheol.

“I can’t be sharing you with another man. I thought sweet Hannie and I were enough for you. Maybe we could get Joshua involved if you need another man.”

“Seungcheol.”

“What princess, we weren't enough for you? You had to find yourself a frat boy?” His words practically have your blood boiling.

“(Y/N)?” Mingyu finally speaks and he looks so confused.

“He’s full of shit. Don’t listen to him.”

Seungcheol holds his hand out next to you. “Darling, it's time to go home.”

“Seungcheol, knock it off.”

“Come on, I bet Hannie is waiting for you.” He’s playing dirty by using Jeonghan as a pawn to get you to listen to him.

“Maybe you should go,” Mingyu says.

Pausing you look up at Seungcheol, it’s taking absolutely everything in you not to slap him. Slowly you stand up. Seungcheol reaches and grabs your bag that’s sitting on the table. Before you could even protest, Seungcheol laced his fingers with yours, pulling you away from a shocked looking Mingyu. Your blood runs cold as he takes you away. All your hard work with Mingyu has gone to waste. Seungcheol ruined it all with little to no effort.

He dragged you outside until you were standing in front of his car. “Get in the car darling.” You take a deep breath trying to stay calm. You hate that he referred to you by the nickname Jeonghan uses for you.

“No.”

He rolls his eyes and barks out a laugh. Opening the door for you. He puts your bag on the floorboard. “It’s time to go home, darling.”

“Stop calling me that!” You all but scream.

“Is only our precious Hannie allowed to call you that?”

You reach forward, poking his chest. “Why are you being an asshole?”

“I’m just protecting you like Hannie and Shua do.”

Narrowing your eyes at him. “They wouldn’t have done that. I liked Mingyu and now he’s going to want nothing to do with me.”

“I’m not saying it again. Get in the car.” He makes sure he says each word with a firm tone.

Looking off towards the entrance of the library you see Mingyu watching the scene in front of him unfold. If Seungcheol didn’t ruin everything inside, hee did now. Pulling away from him, you get into the car. Grabbing the handle, you slam the door basically in his face.

He gets in the car and without saying a word drives off campus. The car is filled with tension that could be cut with a knife and silence so loud, it’s almost deafening.

“You’re cute when you're mad.” He knows his words will piss you off, but he doesn’t care.

“Fuck you Seungcheol,” you scream. He’s pissed you off more than you thought was possible. The smug smile on his face, as he continues to try, is making your blood feel like it’s boiling. “Pull the damn car over. I want out.” You feel completely trapped being stuck in this car with him.

He glances over at you and shakes his head, “sorry princess, not happening.”

“Why are you such an asshole?” He’s never been this much of dick to you since you moved in. He’s acting like a different person right now and it’s making you madder by the second.

He’s well aware that you’re so mad at him. You look like you want to kill him. There is this twisted thought in his head that keeps egging him on to piss you off more. The way you’re yelling at him is turning him on more than it honestly should. He bites his lip, attempting to hold back the laugh that is trying to escape.

“Let me out,” you shout at him.

“Can you chill for five minutes? We’re not going back to the apartment until we talk this out.” He knows all too well that if Jeonghan, and Joshua find out about this fight they’re going to wring his neck. He never understood how, from the moment his two best friends met you, why they felt this undying need to protect you. You’re a strong-willed girl who didn’t need two protectors. He knew Joshua watched after you like a friend, but the whole Jeonghan situation felt like there was more to it. Even if Jeonghan would never admit it. He was the one hell bent on making you off limits to any of the roommates. Jeonghan is also the one who always glares at any guy who speaks to you when you go to parties together. Seungcheol knew that feeling in the back of his mind that there might be something more for Jeonghan, which meant he needed to stay away from you. The problem is he didn’t know if he had that kind of self control.

Pulling up to the abandoned park surrounded by trees, Seungcheol looked around to make sure nobody was around. He’s brought a few girls up here to hook up in his car. Not many people know about this place and Seungcheol is glad about that.

“Where are we?” You look around completely confused by your surroundings.

“An abandoned park,” he says, shutting the car off. He takes a deep breath and unbuckles his seat belt. “Now if you want to yell at me, get it over with now.”

You narrow your eyes at him. If looks could kill, Choi Seungcheol was a dead man. A heavy sigh passes his lips and your expression softens.

Seungcheol is trying to brace himself for the possible insults that could be thrown at him. Hell, he’s not sure if he should brace himself for you to slap him across his face. He knows he crossed a line pulling you away from Mingyu. He knows that he shouldn’t have interfered in a guy's attempts to get with you. That isn’t his place, that’s some bullshit Jeonghan would pull, but at least Jeonghan wouldn’t be an asshole about it.

“You know Mingyu probably won’t talk to me now? And that’s all because you’re an asshole,” you scream.

He turns so he’s fully facing you and says, “okay, I’m really sorry about that. I know I should have just asked you to leave. I shouldn't have made a stupid comment.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he even stepped in. It wasn’t like he was your friend looking out for you like Jeonghan does. Seungcheol isn’t your friend, he’s literally just your roommate that you don’t even know a lot about.

“Why did you step in?”

He shrugs, not even exactly sure why he did. “I don’t know.”

“Were you jealous or something?”

He looks at you, attempting to process your question. Seungcheol was never the type of person to get jealous but for some reason seeing you with Mingyu made me a little jealous.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no question.” The air in his car suddenly feels thick. The windows have already started to fog up like they do when you make out in a car. He doesn’t answer you and it’s irritating that he seems to be playing some type of game with you.

Shaking your head, you turn and reach for the door handle. If he’s not going to have the decency to have a real conversation with you, you’ll just walk home even if it’s cold outside. Freezing to death would be more enjoyable than whatever game Seungcheol is playing with you.

He reaches out, grabbing your wrist, stopping you from getting out of the car. You turn to face him, trying to think of a witty response but before you can say anything he crashes his lips into yours. You’re taken back by the feeling of his lips against yours. His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging you closer to him. The center console is the only thing separating you. Your fingers latch onto his sweater, pulling him close to you. Seungcheol’s lips against your lips makes your stomach feel like it’s doing flips. His finger tugs your head to the side and he starts kissing his way down your jaw. A low whimper passes your lips, catching you off guard.

“What is happening?” You pant as his nips at your neck.

“I’m kissing you, now shut up and kiss me,” he crashes his lips back into yours.

Your brain is screaming at you that this isn’t smart. That kissing Seungcheol like this meant your clothing was going to come off sooner than later. His hands reach up, taking your breast in his hands and squeeze, causing your eyes to snap open. Pulling away from him quickly, you watch as he licks his lips, staring at you with lust-filled eyes.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks knowing damn well you don’t want to stop.

“We should, but no I want this.”

A low laugh passes his lips as he leans forward, connecting his lips to yours again. His hands wander down to the edge of your sweater pushing it up so his warm hand rests on your bare skin. His touch leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy. It takes very little effort before he has your sweater off and you sitting there in your bra.

“Get in the back seat,” he says.

Without even thinking you crawl in the backseat. He gets out and pulls off his sweater, tossing it into the driver's seat before he gets in the back with you. He leans forward, connecting his lips to your collarbone. He sucks a mark into your skin as his hands reach behind you unclasping your bra. He pulls away to look at your topless form in front of him. His lips are all over your chest leaving marks as his large hands grope your chest. He was touching you in ways you’ve never been touched before.

Grabbing your hips, he moves you so you’re sitting in his lap. He’s grinding your body against his jean-covered erection. His lips are still all over your chest but his hands are gripping your sides.

Soon he moves you off him so he can remove your underwear. He kisses you again as he puts his hand between your legs. He plays with your sensitive bundle of nerves, commenting on how wet you are.

Pulling away from him, you looked at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. You couldn’t believe what was unfolding between you.

“Seungcheol?” You ask, trying not to sound completely turned on and needy.

“Yeah?”

“What’s happening?”

“I thought we were about to have sex. If you want to. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop now.” He sounds like he wasn’t sure where your head's at. He doesn’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.

“I want this,” you say, sounding almost ashamed that you want this.

He smiles and leans forward pressing his lips to your forehead for a soft kiss the complete opposite of everything you just experienced. He moves to reach for the center console where he pulls out a condom. You roll your eyes at the fact that he has condoms in his car.

With the foil packet between his teeth he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them and boxers down on his thighs just enough to free his very large erection. You had heard rumors about his size, but you always tried to ignore those. You always told yourself you didn’t need to know any intimate details about your roommate, but here you were naked in his car about to have sex with him.

You watch as he slides the rubber down his length before he reaches for you, pulling you onto his lap again. His lips are on yours as he runs the tip of his length through your folds.

“Ready?” He asks with his lips on yours.

“Yeah,” you moan.

He glides you down his length and you gasp at the pain of him filling you. He’s the biggest you’ve been with and you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get used to the feeling of him stretching you. You sit completely still on his lap, closing your eyes, trying to mask the fact you’re in pain.

His hand rests on your cheek catching your attention. Your eyes snap open and you look at him for a moment.

“Just relax, it will feel good soon,” he says softly.

He must be used to this. Most girls must have the same issues you’re having. He licks at your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses getting you to relax. It takes a solid five minutes before the burn goes away between your legs.

“You can move,” you say softly.

He holds your hips, moving you up and down his length. His pace is slow in the beginning as he gives you time to adjust. Once the first moan passes your lips, is when he starts to grow more rough with you. The rough pace is a welcomed one. High pitched moans pass your lips with each thrust.

Rough hands gripped your hips as he continued to slam you down on his length. Prior to this between you and Seungcheol, no one has ever been this rough with you. There was something about the way he held you and manhandled you that turned you on more than it should.

His teeth nipped at the skin along your collarbone. The echoing sounds of your pants and groans were enough to set you off. With each thrust he stretched you in ways you had never felt before. Your mind felt clouded in a complete haze of lust with each upward thrust.

Taking his face in your hands, you stare at him for a long moment, but his eyes quickly travel away from yours.

“Do you like how I feel stretching you?” He says with labored breath.

You learned very quickly three things about Hwang Seungcheol in the back of this car. The first thing you learned was he had by far the biggest dick that you had ever seen in person, and boy did he know how to use it. The second thing you learned was he liked it rough and he liked being in charge. The third and final thing you learned was he likes to talk dirty. He knows just the things to say to make you weak.

“You’re so tight, I barely fit.”

“Oh god Seungcheol,” you moan.

The car was filled with the sounds of slapping skin and your high-pitched whimpering. The sounds of Seungcheol’s heavy breath sounded like music to your ears.

“Does this good girl like it rough? He growls with his lips against your neck.

“Yes.”

One hand remains on your waist while the other travels up to your breast. His hand is rough against you as he sucks a hickey below your collarbone. He’s marking his territory in places he knows your prying roommates won’t be able to see.

“Don’t cum until I say you can,” he grips your hips with both hands again slamming you down.

Your hands sink into his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as he roughly guides your body. Your head is spinning as the coil in your stomach is tightening.

You whimper, begging him to kiss you. You need something to preoccupy your mind as you try your hardest to push off your orgasm. He crashes his lips into yours for a searing kiss. His tongue slides across yours. He’s kissing you like a man starved. You don’t think anyone will ever be able to kiss you like Seungcheol is.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs slowly pulling away.

“Do you want to cum?” He asks with his lips near yours.

“Yes… oh god… Seungcheol… please. I need… this,” your words a mangled mess of cries. Nobody has ever told you not to cum and your brain is starting to stop functioning.

“Tell me how good this feels,” he demands.

“Cheol… I can't- you’re so big…. I can’t take it,” you whine. “This feels… so good,” you’re panting and whining.

“Then cum like a good girl.”

With his simple command he pushes you over the edge. A warmth spreads through as you find your release. You whine his name over and over as he grips your hips, still roughly moving you up and down his length.

It takes everything in you not to go limp as you ride out your high. He won’t let you stop moving though, he holds your hips, moving you while he thrusts up spearing into you.

His rough thrusts grow to be sloppy as he chases his own release. His lips are sucking on your skin as he finds his own release slamming you down so you’re resting on his thighs.

His head leans back as his chest is rising and falling. You stay still for a long moment just staring at him as you come down from your own high.

Crawling off of him, you reach for your underwear that are in the seat next to you. He hasn’t even looked at you. His eyes are closed and his head is tilted back. A small smile plays on his lips. You know you shouldn’t be turned on by the sight of his blissed out state. He pulls off the condom, tying it in a knot and tosses it out of the car. Ever so slowly he lifts his hips and pulls up his boxers and jeans.

Pulling your underwear on, you pull your legs up into your chest and awkwardly look over at Seungcheol who is finally looking over at you.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. Silently you nod. “Sorry if I was too rough. I should have asked before if you’re okay with that,” he’s worried that he actually hurt you.

“I’m fine. Nobody has ever been like that before with me, but I enjoyed it.”

*

Seungcheol knows damn well he shouldn’t have been that rough with you. He knows you’re not made of glass, but you also don’t seem like the type of girl who likes to be manhandled in the back of a car.

You look over at him with innocent eyes and he can’t help the guilty feeling bubbling in his stomach. He made a promise to Jeonghan when you moved in that he wouldn’t mess with you. Jeonghan preached over and over how awkward things would be if they had sex with their roommate. Seungcheol knew deep down that Jeonghan also made this rule due to his own crush.

There was something about the way you were looking at him that made him feel things he shouldn’t be feeling.

Looking down at your chest, he saw the mess of marks he left. A couple of them were a little too close to where they could be seen. He told himself in the heat of the moment he could mark you where people couldn’t see. Jeonghan and Joshua could not know about what happened in the back of his car.

“We should probably get dressed and head to the apartment,” he reaches on the floor and picks up your shirt.

The car ride back to the apartment was slightly awkward. It didn’t help that you could feel the ache between your legs. Your leg gently bounced a nervous habit you can’t seem to kick. Seungcheol reaches over and rests his hand on your knee gently squeezing it. His touch was the complete opposite of what it was not long ago in the back seat.

“Why are you freaking out?” He asks as he pulls into a parking spot outside your apartment building.

“We just had sex, and now we have to act like it didn’t happen. I’m just a little nervous. It also doesn’t help that my lips are swollen and I have hickies trying to peek out of this shirt.” You couldn’t stop your nervous rambling. Seungcheol looked at you trying his hardest not to smile at you.

“You’ll go in before me, and I’ll go in like twenty minutes later. The boys aren’t going to question you. They don’t have any reason to think something happened,” his thumb gently brushes your skin, calming you down. “Also I’m sorry about the marks. I got caught up in the moment.”

You reach for the door handle, but before you can open it you know you need to talk to him. You need to talk about a few things that can’t be talked about withJoshua and Jeonghan hearing.

“Seungcheol, what the hell just happened between us?”

His brows furrowed together, “we fucked?”

“I’m aware we had sex, I was there. I’m just curious about why we had sex. You’ve shown zero interest in me from the moment we met. What Joshuaged?”

He shrugs his shoulders casually like the fact that you just had sex isn’t a big deal. You weren’t against having causal sex. Hell, the last person you had sex with was Soonyoung in a bathroom at a house party, but what happened there was completely different from what you just experienced with Seungcheol. Soonyoung was sloppy, both of you lost in a drunken state, but he wasn’t rough with you, whispering dirty things to you.

“I don’t know. I’ve wanted to have sex with you for a while.”

“Okay. So this was all just about having sex with me?” His statement hurt for some reason but you knew all too well Seungcheol had no intention of dating you or being emotionally involved with you.

“Yeah. YN sorry if you thought this was something else.”

“No, it's cool. I’m just being dumb. I’ll see you inside,” you quickly rushed out of the car needing to escape Seungcheol. You couldn’t handle him staring at you. You don’t know why you thought that all this could possibly mean more.

Walking inside you find Joshua sitting on the couch with his guitar in his lap. He stops strumming and looks over at you and gives you a soft smile.

“Hi,” you awkwardly spit out before rushing off to your bedroom.

You waste no time stripping off your clothes. Standing in front of your full-length mirror you look at the bruises on your hips already forming and all the marks that scattered your chest. Biting your bottom lip, you shook your head, feeling like a stupid girl. Your mind wandered if this is how all the girls look leaving his room. You had heard the rumors across campus about Seungcheol and how he was in bed, but you never thought you would be foolish enough to find out.

Shaking your head, you step away from the mirror and change into some yoga pants and an oversized shirt. You brush your messy hair before walking out into the living room where Joshua is still sitting on the couch.

“What did you do today?” Joshua asked, sitting his guitar down.

“Nothing really. I just did a little bit of studying for that history test I have next week,” you were lying through your teeth. You had never lied to Joshua and you felt terrible about what had just happened with Seungcheol. Even after your bathroom hookup with Soonyoung, Joshua was the only person you told. You trusted him with every little detail about your life, but this was something you couldn’t share.

“Sounds exciting,” he says standing up and stretching.

The front door opens and Seungcheol struts in. He walks straight into the kitchen, not even saying a word to you.

“Seungcheol, what were you up to?” Joshua asks as Seungcheol walks back into the kitchen.

“I hooked up with a chick I’ve been wanting to get with,” he smirks. Your stomach drops as you stare at him with wide eyes. He made you promise not to tell the boys and here he is casually saying this.

“Who?” Joshua asks.

“Just some chick,” those words stung more than they should.

Standing up quickly, your eyes catch Seungcheol and you can see the guilt-ridden expression on his face. Shaking your head you leave the living room. You need to get away from him. You desperately need a moment to gather yourself. Dashing off to your room, you hear Joshua say your name but you ignore him. Shutting the door to your bedroom, you press your back against it and take a deep breath.

There's a knock on the door as you’re pressed against it, and the sudden noise startles you. You step away and stare at the door for a moment.

“YN are you okay?” Joshua says from the other side.

“Yeah I’m fine.”

You open the door knowing that if you keep Joshua out it’s just going to lead to him asking too many questions.

“Why did you rush out of the living room?” He leans against the door frame.

You desperately attempted to figure out an excuse on why you left. Joshua knew you well enough to know when you would lie to him. Especially being put on the spot like that.

“I didn’t mean to rush, but no offense to Seungcheol. I don’t feel like hearing about his latest conquest. I see enough of those girls coming to our apartment. I don’t need details.”

“Oh okay. I thought Seungcheol did something to piss you off,” he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Nope,” once again you lie.

“Well, did you want to hang out tonight and watch a movie? Jeonghan should be home soon.” You want to say no and just spend the evening in your bedroom, but you know you shouldn’t do that.

“Yeah, it sounds good.”

“Okay, I’m gonna run to the store to get some snacks. Did you want anything?”

“No. Thanks for offering though.”

He turns away and you shut the door behind him. Sitting on the edge of your bed you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. You barely get five minutes alone when there is another knock on the door. You assume it’s Jeonghan stopping by to bug you. You stand up and throw open the door to see Seungcheol standing on the other side. Your eyes go wide as you look at him caught off guard that he’s standing at your door.

“What do you want?” You huff before walking over and sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I came to apologize for the stupid comment to Joshua.” Seungcheol really does feel bad about it. He saw the way your face fell at his stupid remark and felt bad that he hurt you. “I know it was stupid. I should have just said I was out.”

“Thanks.” You could tell he was sorry. This wasn’t some empty apology.

“I’m also sorry about being so rough with you,” he steps into your room, shutting the door behind him.

“Normally girls know what they’re getting into with me. Most of the girls I hook up with, heavily pursue me based on rumors. I’m assuming that before today you didn’t have any clue what it was like.”

You shake your head. Even though you had heard a few rumors, you had no clue how true they were.

“Seungcheol, you didn’t hurt me,” you say looking up at him finally. You can tell by his voice and by the look on his face, he is genuinely worried he hurt you.

“Are you sure?”

He moves to sit on your bed next to you. There’s a new tension between you that you aren’t used to. Reaching over you, rest your hand on his thigh as you look over at him. You want to let him know you’re not mad at him. You may be confused and unsure of what you are feeling, but you aren’t mad at him.

“I quite enjoyed it actually,” you say with a small smile pulling on your lips. Your hand is still resting on his thigh.

“I take it no guy's ever been like that before with you,” he raises one eyebrow.

“Nope.” You put extra emphasis on the p.

“Well I’m glad you enjoyed it. Sorry if the marks got out of hand.”

“As long as they aren’t visible to Jeonghan and Joshua, it’s fine,” your thumb brushes against his jean-covered thigh.

Placing his hand on top of yours, he looks over at you with that same lustfilled look he gave you in the car. “I can’t lie, it turns me on knowing you’re covered in marks from me walking around our apartment.”

You were now playing with fire. You had two options here, pour gasoline on the fire and make a flirty comment or shut him down. You know deep down inside you should shut him down, but you don’t actually want to. What happened in the car should be a one-time thing. If you were smart you would make sure it didn’t happen again, but you weren’t thinking correctly. Your body suddenly craved Seungcheol's touch.

“Well it’s good to know I’ll be driving you crazy then.”

The room feels insanely small as you stare at each other. How were you supposed to live with Seungcheol after sleeping with him? You weren’t sure you could ever be in the same room alone with him ever again. Just looking at him gave you visions of his naked body.

He stands up and rubs his hands on his jeans and cocks his eyebrow at you. There’s a long pause before he speaks, “just so you know you always drove me crazy. The sex was great by the way.”

He walks out of your room leaving you completely floored. What exactly did his comment mean? In the whole two years you’ve lived with him and the boys, Seungcheol has done nothing to show any notion that he liked you. You quickly became close with Joshua and Jeonghan, but Seungcheol was nothing more than a roommate to you. You don’t even think you could call him your friend. Suddenly things feel different between you. Maybe you’re supposed to be more than friends, but maybe this was just both your way of releasing sexual tension. All you know is you can’t help but feel sad that things between you played out this way.

𝐚𝐧: how do you think things are going to play out when Jeonghan gets home? I’m already working on a follow up for this story. This one is gonna be Jeonghan focused.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - Kika nazareth

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: y/n has a complicated relantionship with Alexia (she's more like a parental figure here); angst; Kika and Yn are just so social awkward it physicaly hurts; Olga and Alexia being in love ewwww.

Word count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

notes: Commemoration for 500 follwors yay - this was a request!

..

Y/n was the apple of Barcelona's eyes. The 19-year-old girl had grown up in La Masia alongside other Barça players. Although she was different,  a prodigy, that’s what they called her from a very young age.

She was a defender and had been trained by her family to be one since she was in diapers. Y/n never considered another position to play before and undoubtedly never contemplated doing anything besides becoming a professional footballer. 

Spain media spotted Y/n when she debuted for the Women’s National team at just thirteen years old, starring in the Under 15 World Cup. Since then she began rising higher and further in La Masia.

At 14 she moved in with Alexia Putellas and her then-girlfriend, now wife, Olga Rios. It was weird at first, Y/n didn’t know how to act around the two women, and they certainly didn’t know what to do with a fourteen-year-old girl who played in the La Masia.

It didn’t take long for Barcelona to offer her a senior contract; at just 15 years old, Y/n was playing on Team B but was briskly established as a starter for Team A next to Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmati and other amazing players. 

When she was transferred from La Masia to Barcelona, her relationship with Alexia got better. They had more things in common to talk about, and having Alexia both at home and during training was comforting, something that eased her very nervous personality.

Their routine was easier too, before Y/n got into the senior team, either Alexia or Olga had to drop her off at school, which sometimes meant they would passive-aggressively argue about who was going to take her to school because they were all so busy.

Now as a senior member, Y/n did both training and School inside Barcelona, which made her life much easier. So whenever Alexia was going to training, she would just give Y/n a ride.

Aside from Y/n’s closed-off personality, she didn’t have any major thing happening to her growing up with Alexia and Olga, everything was okay.

That was until she got older.

As time went by she and Alexia started to clash more and more, either in training or at home for the dumbest reasons.

When they were in training, Alexia would go full-on Captain mode on Yn, which made her annoyed because why was Alexia screaming at her when Y/n just saw her having a meltdown hours before because Olga had eaten off of her protein bars?

When they argued at home, it went smoother mainly because of Olga, who tried to calm both of them down.

Y/n remembers a specifically bad fight they had a few years ago. She got a bad grade on two important Spanish tests because she didn’t read the books the teacher required.

Alexia was called up by the teacher who worked in Barcelona's education sector and Y/n got the biggest earful of her life when they got home. 

Alexia kept going on about how school was important, even for a footballer while Y/n sat at the dining table, just listening. No reason to argue with Alexia when she was that angry.

Y/n wasn’t a crier, but Alexia was getting so angry that she felt tears building up in her eyes. And that’s when Olga, who was in silence in the corner of the room, stepped in.

She placed a firm hand on Olga, which made Alexia shut up right away, the frown on her face still on.

Olga stepped closer to Y/n and wrapped her arms around her while sitting on her side. 

“I’ll help you get back on track in Spanish, okay?” Olga had said with a sweet voice. “We can study every Saturday night together, how does that sound?” 

“You have dates with Ale Saturday night,” Y/n said in a whisper, eyes looking down at the table, trying not to make eye contact.

“I’m sure she won’t mind moving them to Sunday nights.”Olga held Y/n’s chin in her hand and cleaned the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re just a kid, it’s okay to mess up sometimes.”

Y/n now, at 19, wasn’t just a kid, but she still messed up. 

Thankfully, Alexia never gave her such stern talking before. Y/n was sure Olga made her feel guilty about it afterwards because she randomly showed up with a basket of Y/n’s favourite chocolate and just left them in her room, without saying a thing.

But that was the moment Y/n realised how atypical her life was, especially when it came to Alexia. How was her team captain, but also acted like a big sister most of the time…but also as a mother when she needed to. 

That made her act even more closed-off towards other people, especially people her age. She felt like an outsider whenever she talked with other young people who weren’t into football life,  I mean, she didn’t even have the experience of having a normal parent for half her life. How was she going to be able to bond over other, less normal, things?

She had Vicky and Jana as her friends, and they were more than enough, although Olga and Alexia didn’t agree on that. As if Alexia’s best friend wasn't her own sister.

What was the difference between being friends with your teammates and being friends with your sister? Y/n wouldn't know, she was an only child, but she was sure it was probably the same thing, right? 

Y/n and Alexia were humming softly to the song playing on the radio while Alexia drove them to training. As she was done with school, Y/n didn’t need to bring her training bag and school bag, which made her life very much easier.

“The new girl is coming today, Estrellita,” Alexia said, looking up through her sunglasses.

“Don’t call me Estrelitta,” Y/n mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Is she a Portuguese girl? Kika?”

“Yes,” Alexia said. “I’m the one introducing her to the team, to the staff, etc”

“As always,” Y/n added. “It’s literally your job as the captain.”

“And,” Alexia continued, ignoring Y/n. “She’s almost your age, so you could try and be friends!”

Alexia said as if Y/n was in pre-school and all she needed to have a friend was to share her toys. Y/n wasn’t good at making friends, she always made them uncomfortable and awkward. 

She already had two friends, and they didn’t mind her personality, so she felt like it was enough already.

“I’m impressed you want me to be friends with her right away,” Y/n teased.  “You are always so protective with who I interact with…”

Alexia hummed in response.

“What if this kika is like…a sociopath in disguise?” Y/n teased, but when she looked at the side, Alexia had a fearful expression.

“You’re right, Estrelitta,” Alexia said, “Don’t go near her until I have her in the clear for you.”

“Alexia, please,” Y/n face palmed her face.”I was joking, have you ever heard of a joke?”

“Well, I am not joking and you certainly never joke around.” Alexia shot back, looking at the rearview mirror. “How would I know?”

“Maybe because I’m not five?” Y/n muttered, rolling her eyes “You never joke around either, Olga has to explain the punchlines of her jokes to you all the time, it’s annoying.” 

“Well, she doesn’t mind explaining them to me,” Alexia said with a grin.

“Yeah she does mind,” Y/n argued. “She's always muttering about how explaining jokes to you is her full-time job and that you don’t have an inch of humour on your body.”

“Well, I guess we–,” Alexia pointed to herself, and then did Y/n. “–are more alike than we thought”

“Why are you insulting me at–” Y/n looked at her watch. “7 in the morning?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Saying you look like me is an insult?”

“Of the worst type,” Y/n nodded.

“Next time you can take the bus to training, then,” Alexia said, rolling her eyes. “Well, anyway don’t go near the girl until I talk to her first,” she warned. “Just stay close to Jana and Vicky.”

Y/n felt the words slip out before she could stop them, but it was too late now. She could see Alexia’s face tighten in the rearview mirror. 

“Maybe it’s time I handle my own friendships, huh? I don’t need a babysitter.” She crossed her arms, waiting for Alexia to bite back. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

Alexia bit her lip. 

"I know, Estrellita. But I’m not just your captain...I’m family.” she said in a low voice, clenching her wheel. “I care about you, about Olga…not everyone has the best intentions when they want to get close to us; you remember Laura, don’t you?”

Y/n knew Alexia was very aware she was overstepping, but it was like Alexia couldn't help herself. 

La Reina meant well, although it felt like she only saw Y/n as this fragile thing that needed constant monitoring. 

Alexia never trusted anyone to get close to Y/n and Olga. It was just her super protective nature, but it was still annoying, nonetheless.

 It even had been the reason for a lot of arguments between Alexia and Y/n and Alexia and Olga in the past.

This protective behaviour only got worse after Y/n dated Laura. She was seventeen–almost eighteen- just like Y/n, but unfortunately, Laura didn’t like Y/n, not truly. But she enjoyed everything that came with dating Y/n.

Alexia would always take them and Olga on double dates in expensive restaurants, or take them on vacations on tropical islands. 

Laura loved it. She loved the luxury that came with being a ‘Putellas’, even if Y/n wasn’t truly one. 

During one of those vacations, Laura left her phone unlocked while she and Y/n went swimming; and that’s when Alexia saw: more messages than she could count from different girls all over Spain, all of them with the same flirty undertone.

Olga told Y/n that Alexia had gotten very mad, but that she had been able to calm her down until the trip was over because they couldn't just leave Laura–an underage girl– to fend for herself in another country, even if she was a cheater.

When they got home from the trip, Olga and Alexia sat her down and showed the pictures they had taken of the girl's phone. Y/n was devastated. She already had a very hard time with people, and being cheated and betrayed by Laura was one of the hardest experiences in her life.

Laura was her first and only friend outside of football, and of course, her first girlfriend ever. She didn’t just lose her girlfriend, but she also lost her friend that day.

After that Alexia became properly paranoid with anyone Y/n or Olga got close with. Alexia was scared they would just end up hurt afterwards, just like it was with Laura.

Alexia made herself even more present in Y/n’s life after that, it was like she wasn’t able to live without having Alexia constantly breathing down on her neck.

It wasn’t even the protectiveness that bothered Y/n; it was that she had never gotten the chance to figure things out for herself because Alexia’s presence was so constant all the time.

And since Y/n didn’t have much of a life besides football, Alexia was always there. 

Always.

It was hard to know where Alexia ended and Y/n began.

Y/n pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the cars as she started on the streets of Barcelona. 

..

When Kika arrived at the training ground, a shy smile on her face, everybody already knew she was the sweetest person ever. The Portuguese girl had everyone wrapped around their fingers. 

Alexia wasn’t a hundred per cent sure she trusted the girl yet, but she was open to getting to know the new midfielder. Alexia had already talked to Kika while she showed her the Barcelona training centre. She seemed genuine, came from a small, but loving family and–as everyone on the Barcelona team–loved football since she was a kid.

Alexia asked everyone to speak with Kika in either English or Spanish since Kika said Catalan was harder to understand. Alexia couldn't help but feel bad when she spoke in Catalan to introduce herself and Kika began sweating.

Y/n watched from afar as Alexia talked with Kika. She saw that the Portuguese girl had brought a Tupperware filled with pastries.

Kika seemed nice–but so did Laura.

Kika had told the team it was Pastel de Belém, a traditional Portuguese pastry, it was an egg custard tart with a creamy filling of eggs, milk and cinnamon inside. She had made and brought them to the team as a present for welcoming her.

When Kika gave one to Y/n, she accepted it shyly, murmuring a thank you.

When Y/n was ready to take a bite, Alexia popped up by her side.

“What do you think are the chances of this being poisoned?” Alexia asked seriously, looking at the sweet and analysing it carefully. “She wouldn't do that on her first day, right? Poison everyone? Maybe she’s a true real Madrid fan and–”

“Ostres, Alexia,”[Damn] Y/n whispered-yelled so no one would hear them. “Please go to therapy! You weirdo. That’s why I don’t have any friends besides Vicky and Jana, only those two can put up with you.”

Y/n left Alexia with a confused expression on her face as she walked to the other side of the pitch, where Pina and Patri were getting ready to start training.

“Bad day with La Reina?” Claudia asked teasingly.

“La Reina was raised by wolves,” Y/n murmured, sitting down on the grass as she gave her first bite of the pastel de belen. “And then she raised me and now I have to deal with this.”

It was sweet and….impressively very good. It had a lemon in it, making it have a sour aftertaste, so it wasn’t overly sweet and sugary. 

Y/n liked it a lot. Maybe Olga would agree to try making those for them at home.

Alexia was watching carefully from the other side of the pitch as Y/n ate her pastry; it was almost as if she was waiting for the girl to drop dead at any second.

Y/n decided to ignore Alexia, for the good of her mental health, instead, she put her eyes on Kika, who was still giving everyone on the team small Pastéis de Belém; even the staff got some.

Cute.

Kika was cute too.

She had dark eyes and dark hair, her skin had an olive undertone. And she looked good with the black training kit.

Y/n was almost sure she had already met the girl before, maybe in the U15 Cup, since Spain had played a match against Portugal during the quarter-finals. Alexia had told her the girl was the same age as her, so the chances of them having disputes in some international games were very likely.

Y/n hadn’t googled Kika–not yet. But Alexia had–like the freak she was– and saw that the girl played for Benfica, a club in Lisbon, Portugal before signing with Barcelona. 

The club had good statistics–Y/n had googled the club–and it was second in Portugal's women’s league, so Y/n wondered why Kika decided to leave. She was doing very well at Benfica if the number of goals she scored meant anything.

Y/n watched Kika from afar, almost as if she were a mystery. Kika had finished distributing the sweets to everyone and was not sitting on the bench getting her boots ready to start training. 

Kika looked a little nervous, her hands were fidgeting with her jersey and she kept pulling her hair with her index finger, something that Y/n did a lot of times.

If Y/n wasn’t such an antisocial person, she would go to Kika and offer some pep talk, but knowing herself, she would just say the wrong thing and make the situation worse.

As if on cue, Jana sat by her side on the pitch and began to scratch, laying her leg on the grass and reaching her feet with her hand. 

Y/n nudged Jana’s ribs, almost making the girl fall to her side,

“Ouch,” Jana complained, a frown on her face. “What?”

“Kika–the new girl–looks anxious”, Y/n pointed at Kika with her head, trying to be subtle. “Why don’t you go there and talk to her? Or get Vicky to talk to her, everyone loves Vicky.”

“Why don't you go?” Jana asked, coming back to her stretching. “And hey people love me too. okay?”

“Yeah, everyone loves you, now go,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “If I go I’d say some shit like ‘don’t worry, it only gets worse’ or something similar”

Jana thought for a moment, finger in her temple.

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Jana agreed, wiking. “Leave it to me.”

Jana got up and headed in Kika’s direction. Y/n watched as Jana smiled at the new girl.

It was like  Kika’s shoulder seemed to light up to the interaction. Y/n smiled to herself, happy that Kika was starting to feel at ease. Y/n knew very well how awful it was to feel anxious around people, especially new people.

But then Jana pointed at her, and Kika’s face turned to where Y/n was sitting.

Their eyes met and for a moment Y/n did nothing, only stared. She felt her ear flush and her cheeks getting warm by the sudden attention.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat when Jana made a very classical ‘come with me’ signal to Kika. And then Jana and Kika walked in her direction. 

Y/n began to sweat. She wasn’t good at talking to new people, she was awkward and grumpy and–

“Hi! I’m Kika, it’s nice to meet you. I mean, obviously. You’re—you’re good. Like, really good.”  she said, standing in front of Y/n, Jana on her side, smiling as if Y/n wasn’t dying inside.

Y/n was silent as if she had forgotten all her words. She hoped, really hoped, that Kika wasn’t like..her fan or something like that.

Jana kicked her shin, not so gently, which made Y/n talk.

“Right... Well, welcome to Barça.” Y/n mumbled it was all that she had to offer.

No more words were exchanged, Kika looked at her as if waiting for more, but Y/n just looked down and began stretching.

“Well,” Jana said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “This is our Estrellita, she’s a defender, but it seemed like you know her whole life story already, she’s the Princess of Barcelona, bla bla bla–”

“Jana,” Y/n said in a warning. “Stop it.”

She didn’t like it when people were introduced like that. As if her only personality trait was having grown up in La Masia, becoming a good footballer and being some sort of Alexia Putellas’s shadow.

Y/n was way more than football, although she was still trying to find who she was without it.

“Okay, sorry,” Jana crossed her arm. “You’ll know very soon that Y/n doesn’t like when people call her Estrelitta, but I get a free pass because I love to annoy her.”

Jana stuck her tongue playfully at Y/n, who rolled her eyes but smiled.

She couldn't help but notice Kika’s firm gaze on her.

Their awkward conversation was cut short as the manager blew his whistle and said they were going to do training in pairs. Y/n was ready to catch Jana’s arm when Vicky showed up–out of nowhere– and took Jana with her.

Y/n watched Vicky and Jana go to the other side of the pitch, feeling her cheeks blush when she realised Kika watched the whole scene too.

“Would you mind?” Kika asked, a small smile on her face.

“Mind what?” Y/n asked, slightly grumpy.

“Ugn, pairing with me?” she said, changing the weight between her feet.

Y/n felt pressure on her chest. Guilty for not being the most welcoming person around.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Y/n said, trying to smile. “It’d be great.”

They didn’t talk during training, instead focusing on the instructions of the manager. Today’s training was about speed. Person A had to run to the other side of the pitch and take an object that was put there and bring Person B said object, then, person B would have to run to the place the object previously was and put it back.

Y/n and Kika were good at it. They were the fastest. Y/n felt that the victory tasted even better because Jana and Vicky went third overall. That’s what they got from stealing each other from Y/n. But what could they do? That was the downside of being a trio.

Y/n lay down on the pitch, water bottle in hand as she tried to get her breathing in another. Then she felt a shadow on her face, she opened her eyes and saw Kika, a rather awkward smile on her face.

“Hi, can I get one?” Kika asked, pointing at the Gatorade cooler Y/n was next to.

“Hm, yeah,” Y/n said, moving her hand around and pointing at the team. “It’s for, um, everybody, like a–collective cooler.” 

Y/n wanted to rip all of her hair out. She didn’t know how to interact with people.

Kika smiled and took Gatorade, sitting next to Y/n.

“You have really nice... uh... running form. Yeah. Super smooth. Like… like an animal, you know.” Kika said, out of nowhere.

“Huh?” Y/n asked, confused, noticing how Kika’s cheek began to red. “An animal?”

“Oh, I mean,” Kika began to stutter, probably realizing what she had said didn’t make any sense. “Like a fast animal, not like a gazelle, more like a–lion? Or better yet… hm.”

“Kika, I think we can both agree we are a little socially awkward,” Y/ said, trying to take the girl out of her misery. “I won’t mind when you say something weird, and I hope you don’t mind when I do it as well.”

Kika laughed shyly as she rubbed the back of her back. “Ok, I agree.”

The manager, again, blew the whistle, cutting their conversation.

“Let’s get back,” Romeu said. “Same pairs as before, we’re going to do some pass training.”

“I guess I got stuck with you again,” Kika said smiling, before getting up and going back to where the girls were.

..

When training was over, the sun had already set in Barcelona, and the cold air of the evening was setting in. Both Alexia and Yn had taken their showers and were heading home, Alexia was the one driving–again–because she refused to let y/n do so.

Alexia unlocked the front door of their house, stepping inside first, Y/n trailing behind, holding both hers and Alexia’s training bag, since the blonde was carrying in some groceries they had bought on their way home.

The house felt warm–the scent of the chamomile candle Olga had burning lingered in the air. Olga was sprawled across the couch, laptop on her lap and earbuds on, probably working.

She looked up. “Hey, my girls!” She greeted them happily. 

Alexia stepped closer to her and kissed her softly on the lips while Y/n rolled her eyes–as she always did. Too much PDA.

“Ew, can you guys stop, I’m right here,” Y/n whined, sitting on the couch as Alexia also rolled her eyes.

“Remind me why didn’t you move away when you were eighteen?” Alexia asked

“Olga didn’t let me,” Y/n said, putting her head on Olga’s lap and pushing Alexia away. “She said she’d miss me too much.”

Olha laughed, caressing Y/n’s scalp.

Olga was one of the only people Y/n let be physically close to her. She was comforting. Almost like a mom. 

“So, who pissed you off today’ Olga asked.

“Take a guess,” Alexia huffed out a laugh.

“I’ll give you three guesses, Olguita,” Y/n said, using the same nickname Alexia called Olga. 

Olga snorted. “I’m going with Jana, Vicky and…” she squinted her eyes, mocking seriously. “Putellas right here.”

Y/n grinned, feeling relaxed for the first time since training. “Bingo,”

“Tontas.” Alexia shook her head with a small smile on her face. “You’re both ridiculous.” [idiots].

Alexia walked towards the kitchen, tossing some of the grocery bags over her shoulder. “You could tell how it was training instead of gossiping.”

“You know how training was, Ale.” Y/n scoffed. “You were there.”

Alexia vanished into the kitchen, and Olga put her laptop to the side and urged Y/n to sit down, before leaning herself forward, the grin on her face widening. 

“Okay, but I  wasn’t there,” She said. “So spill it, give me something entertainment that doesn't have anything to do with bad clients.”

“Bad day at work?” Y/n guessed.

“Yep,” Olga nodded. “But forget about it, tell me.”

Y/n hesitated a little. “There’s the new girl, Kika–”

“Oh, the Portuguese one?” Olga perked up and asked. ‘The one Alexia talked about?

“Um yeah,” Y/n said, feeling shy suddenly. “She’s mine and Vicky’s age, she’s a bit awkward and she tried to say hi but then she went all nervous.”

“Poor thing was probably terrified,” Olga said. “First days are scary, especially when you’re playing with…what? Three Ballon d'Or and  miss FIFA’s prodigy.”

“FIFA’s prodigy, really?” Y/n asked deadpan.

“Oh that’s how people see you cariño,” Olga said, waving off. “You have to accept it someday–but keep going, what happened?”

“Yeah, well, I dunno… She’s kinda funny, too. Like, not on purpose, but…” Y/n shrugged. “I think she’s alright.”

“Alright, huh” Olga's smile turned sharp. “That’s a glowing review from you."

“Olga,” Y/n groaned, feeling flustered. “Don’t start–it’s nothing like that, she was just very nervous, like fidgeting with her shirt and all that, so Jana went to talk with her and we ended up pairing up for training.”

“Oh, and you noticed all that?” Olga teased, but there was something softer in her voice now. Less playful, more... knowing. Her fingers brushed through Y/n’s hair again, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I just think she’s alright,” Y/n muttered, stubbornly staring at the ceiling.

“Sure,” Olga said lightly, but her smile lingered like she knew something Y/n didn’t yet.

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: I’m planning for this to have around 3 parts. I’ve already written over 11k words, so just let me know if you guys are interested in it! Otherwise, I can focus on my other fics.

[dirtyvulture]

15 Minutes

Natasha Romanoff x Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 2430

Requested by abyss anon (and other anons): here me out. i've been listening to 15 minutes by sabrina carpenter and the lyrics “i can do a lot with fifteen minutes, only gonna take two to make you finish” is stuck in my head.

what if masc!r with innocent!shy!nat who is completely and utterly inlove with reader but too afraid to make a move? and when she finally does... *wink* but we all know baby natty is going to make up for it all night.

AN: This basically became pure filth with like a sprinkle of plot so...enjoy!

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

The first time Natasha met you, she knew she was in love with you. Which really sucked for her because you were the type of person who didn’t look at her twice. You were constantly surrounded by people who were prettier, better, and more important than her. Natasha felt so insignificant around you, and whenever she tried to make her presence known, it always ended in a colossal and embarrassing failure.

She had exactly three conversations with you. The first was just an exchange of names, so she didn’t count that. But it was the first time she got to touch your hand and look into your eyes, and she almost physically fell for you right there.

The second conversation was at the dining hall’s salad bar, where the two of you had reached for the tongs to the romaine at the same time. You had insisted she go first, and Natasha had tried to make a joke about lettuce that fell so short it kept her up for three nights. 

The third conversation took place on a basketball court, where you were playing a scrimmage with a few friends. Natasha emboldened herself to approach, which she immediately regretted when you passed her the ball and asked if she could sink a shot from the three-point line. She stumbled through a pickup line about if you could show her, but you and your friends had only laughed. Naturally, she had missed, and she went home in shame, promising to never speak to you in front of others again.

She always told herself that if she had 15 minutes alone with you, she could get you to give her a chance. But getting those 15 minutes was an impossible task in itself.

Or so she thought.

She finds you sitting alone in the common room, staring at the television, but you hardly look interested in the James Bond movie playing.

Fifteen.

“Y/N?” Natasha whispers. Your head shifts in her direction, but you don’t say anything to acknowledge her. “Is anyone sitting with you?” You grunt, which Natasha cannot determine as a definitive yes or no. “Can I sit with you?” She holds her breath, surprised by her own confidence but fully expecting a denial.

“Sure,” you say, to her shock.

Natasha rounds the couch. You make no effort to move and she settles on the cushion next to you.

Fourteen.

She isn’t sure what to say next. You seem incredibly absorbed in the movie, and she’s nervous to break your focus.

“Natasha,” you say, still not looking at her. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a pretty name. For a pretty woman.”

Natasha’s heart thunders in her chest. Did she hear you correctly? “You think I’m pretty?” she asks.

“I think you’re beautiful.” You look her in the eye now, and Natasha has to catch herself before she falls off the couch.

“I…Um…Wow. Thank you. That’s…really nice of you to say,” she stammers.

“I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”

Thirteen.

Natasha stares at you, trying to read your passive expression. Maybe you were just messing with her, or took a bet from your friends to flirt with her. No one–not even Bruce–wanted her. So why would you? 

“You’re especially cute when you’re nervous,” you say.

“Nervous? I’m not–”

You chuckle. “I know the effect I have on you. And most people. But I hardly notice any of them when you’re around me.”

Natasha feels like she’s in a dream. Are you really saying these words to her? And you mean every one of them? She pinches her thigh, but the sting doesn’t do much to clear her head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” she admits in a rush.

“Is that so?” Your right eyebrow lifts and Natasha squeezes her thighs together subtly. “I never approached you first because…well, I didn’t think you’d be able to handle me.”

Twelve.

Natasha leans forward, resting her hand lightly on your upper thigh. She’s determined to prove you wrong if that’s the only thing she succeeds in tonight. “And what makes you think that?”

Your expression changes to one of surprise. “You’re cute, but way too innocent–” The words die in your throat when her hand slides up to cup the bulge in your sweatpants. 

“You were saying?” she says, turning her voice into a huskier tone. 

“Natasha,” you grunt, and she can tell you’re fighting to keep your hips pinned to the couch, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I don’t plan on it.” She grips onto you and wonders if the fabric is thin enough for you to feel the heat of your palm. 

“Someone can walk in at any moment,” you warn her.

“Good. Then they can see you’ve always been mine the whole time.” She feels you twitch and start to harden. She wonders if she can get you off with her words alone, but quickly decides she’d much rather have you inside her instead. 

Eleven.

“I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” you comment. 

“What do you know about me? Besides my name,” she counters.

“That you’re awful at flirting–oh shit.” Natasha pushes her hand past the waistband of your sweatpants and it closes around your hot and hard flesh. She rubs you up and down, her thumb brushing the underside of your tip with every stroke and she grins when she starts to see your thighs tremble. “You ever done this before?” you gasp, your hips rocking off the couch to push yourself through her hand. 

“You tell me, baby.” 

You grunt at the term of endearment. “Not quite what I expected from you,” you say. 

“In a good or bad way?”

“Hmm, well…” You look down at your crotch, frowning because you can’t see any of the action under your sweatpants. Natasha uses her free hand and tugs them down, and you lift your butt up to slide them to your knees. Your cock bobs out and Natasha subconsciously licks her lips, knowing she is that much closer to having you the way she always dreamed of. “Are you gonna keep staring at it or do something with it?” you ask suddenly.

Ten.

“I don’t want you finishing too early,” Natasha says, right as a bead of pre-cum leaks out of your dick.  

“I won’t,” you say, although for once, your voice lacks confidence.

“I bet you can’t last two minutes in me.”

Your eyes narrow at the challenge. “And what if I can?”

“Then I’ll let you take me back to your room and fuck me any way you want.”

You inhale sharply at the filthy thoughts her words inspire. 

“But if you can’t…” Natasha squeezes your cock for emphasis, “Then I get take you to my room and fuck you any way I want.”

You snort. “That’s not really a bad deal either way.”

“You’ve hardly seen what I can do,” Natasha warns.

“So show me more.”

Nine.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Natasha leans over and takes the head of your cock in her mouth.

“Goddamn,” you mutter, pumping your hips up into the new heat of her mouth. You had severely misjudged Natasha in her innocence, but you weren’t upset to be wrong. Her tongue flicks against your tip and you’re practically squirming in your seat when she presses down and takes you into her throat.  

“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” you pant, your hands coming to the back of Natasha’s head and gently pushing on it to keep her in place. “This is hardly fair,” you whine.

Natasha releases your cock and it slaps against your stomach, glistening with her saliva and your pre-cum. “You want me to stop?” she asks.

“Not really.”

Eight.

“Then be quiet,” she says, and her dominance surprises you. It also makes you even harder, which you didn’t know was possible at this stage anymore. “Besides, we aren’t even at the main event yet.”

“Main event?” You have to bite your lip to distract yourself as her mouth descends on you again. You squeeze the muscles in your thighs to keep them grounded, not wanting to show her how close you are. 

“Mhmm,” she mumbles around your cock, and the vibrations have you holding on the couch cushions for dear life. The pounding between your legs heightens, spurred on by the fact that the prettiest girl around has her head in your lap, her mouth bobbing frantically up and down your dick. 

Seven.

“You’re cheating,” you whine, but you totally love it as you jog your hips up a few times. 

“I’m what?” Natasha draws back fully and the cold air that hits your cock makes it visibly twitch. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you mutter. “Never mind, baby. Just put your mouth back and–”

“No,” Natasha says, and you shrink back into the cushions just a little. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut like she said. “I can tell you’re about to cum, and I don’t want you finishing in my mouth.”

“Oh.” Somehow, despite every skill she’s just showed you, you’re surprised she won’t swallow. But you won’t hold it against her. She’s already doing better than most of the girls that sleep with you.

Six.

Natasha leans towards your face, her lips brushing your cheek on her way to your ear. “I want you to finish in my pussy,” she whispers, and the words alone nearly send you over the edge. 

“Oh.” You don’t even realize you’ve reached down to grip the base of your cock, squeezing hard to quite literally prevent yourself from finishing all over your sweatpants. 

“But…I don’t know if you can last that much longer,” Natasha says, pulling away from you. 

“Yes, yes, I can,” you plead. You would do everything in your power to please and if you couldn’t…what was really the worst that could happen? 

“Hmm.” Natasha tilts her head, as if seriously contemplating ending things with you right here.

Five.

“You started this,” you protest. “You can’t leave me hanging.” Literally.

“I didn’t expect you to be so whiny,” she says.

“I didn’t expect you to be this mean,” you counter.

Natasha chuckles. “And you’re the one who said I couldn’t handle you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, happy to eat your words if she’ll ride you. Natasha stands up, and for a moment you think she’s going to walk out on you, but she shimmies down her jeans and you drool at the sight of her lacey red panties. You drop your sweatpants to your ankles so you have more room to move as Natasha swings her leg over your waist.

Four.

You can see the damp patch of her arousal and it hardens you further to see she’s just as excited as you are. 

“Two minutes,” she says, humping you slowly. 

“Easy,” you promise, but you already know you’re going to lose. You reach for her hips, happy that she doesn’t swat you away, and pull her towards yourself until her stomach presses against your cock.

At first, you had been genuinely concerned that someone would walk in on the two of you, but now you couldn’t care less. You were about to get with the Natasha Romanoff, someone your friends had told you would be untouchable. 

Your hands wrap around to her butt and squeeze teasingly. “I’m ready for you,” you remind her, as if she forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Three.

“I can see that.” She reaches down to grab your cock and drags it along the wet patch of her panties. You groan and dig your fingers harder into her butt. She was far more of a tease than you had ever imagined.

“Come on, baby,” you beg as your cock rubs against the smooth fabric of her panties.

Natasha pulls her panties to the side to reveal her glistening center. Your eyes widen and your hips jerk up to brush through her wetness. She puts one hand on her shoulder to steady herself and uses the other to finger herself. The slick noises she makes are downright sinful and you’re practically vibrating with excitement.

“Let me,” you say, eager to get any part of you inside her and trying to replace her fingers with your own. 

“I think I’m ready,” she says, lifting herself up high enough to position the head of your cock with her opening.

Two. 

Both of you inhale sharply at the first contact. You’re certain you’ve left your marks on Natasha’s butt as she slowly sinks down, taking your entire length in her molten heat.

“Fuck, oh, fuck,” you gasp as you feel yourself twitching inside of her. Natasha rests on your thighs and rocks back and forth. A moan rips out of your throat and your head falls back on the couch. The tightness surrounding your cock is too much. 

“Don’t let me down,” Natasha teases, raising a few inches and falling back down again. Her hand slips around your throat possessively, but even that isn’t enough to bring you back from the brink.

Your bodies move together in a calm rhythm that does not match the emotions racing inside of you. While part of you wants to jackhammer into her like an animal, part of you also wants this feeling to last as long as possible.

Which, to be perfectly honest, wasn’t going to be more than another minute. 

“Do I feel good?” Natasha whispers, threading her fingers in your hair and pulling your head back so you have to look her in the eye as she fucks you.

“You feel perfect,” you grunt, your lower body starting to shake, but you give up trying to fight it off.

One.

“You’re lasting longer than I thought,” she hums, clenching around you with the tightness of a vice and you arch your chest into her, slipping your hands under her shirt to clutch at the warmth of her skin.

“Not for much longer,” you admit, feeling a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead. The band in your stomach finally snaps and your thighs lock in place as you spill your seed into her, but hardly feeling relieved. Natasha circles her hips to coax out every last drop, leaving you shaking and begging her to stop. 

“I think I won our bet,” she says, finally climbing off your cock. 

“Whatever,” you mutter, your cheeks tinged red. 

“I want to claim my prize now,” she continues, pulling her jeans back on and offering you her hand.

You don’t protest and go to follow her back to her room.

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

AN: Thanks for ideas, anons! Hope you liked it. :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[russo-woso]

A long time || Leah Williamson x reader

Summary You’ve missed Leah and when you see her again, it doesn’t end how you thought it would.

Warning smut 18+, fingering, cunnilingus

You never thought you’d see her again.

But here she was standing in front of you.

It had been five years yet it was like time hadn’t aged her.

Her eyes identical to how you remembered them, her lips just as kissable, everything about her just as perfect as it used to be.

The last time you saw her, she was standing outside the terminal of Heathrow, waving with tears in her eyes.

Her eyes were filled with tears, her girlfriend - you - going to America for god knows how long.

As you waved goodbye to her, you felt it.

An underlying promise to always love each other, no matter the distance between you both - mentally and physically.

She’d understood why you were going.

Your grandma was sick and as the only family member available to care for her, you had to go back to your home country.

You’d tried, both of you, to make it work.

But with the time difference, busy schedules and a growing distance between the two of you, there was no choice but to let one another go.

It was hard at first, but as time went on, you slowly got through it.

You still loved her though, you knew that, most people around you daily knew that.

But you never thought you’d come face to face with her again.

You’d never see her again.

But as soon as you saw the blonde hair, the impeccable outfit and then her face, you knew it was her.

Leah was standing in front of you.

“Leah…” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leah’s hand instinctively went to the back of her neck, rubbing it awkwardly as she looked you.

“Hiya, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You said, attempting to smile but your face remained frozen. “You look well.”

“You do too.”

A silence grew became the two of you as you both stood, not knowing what to do.

“What makes you come to America?” You questioned, breaking the silence.

“Preseason friendly against Washington spirit. We won so we came to celebrate here - it was the closest club to the hotel.” Leah explained. “What are you doing in America?”

“I live here?” You said, a smile appearing on your face as Leah’s face reddened in embarrassment.

“I don’t know why I asked that. I knew you did.”

“I live just round the corner. This is my local club.” You said, Leah humming as she listened to you.

“So, how’s everything going?”

“Umm… everything’s okay. Im a teacher in an elementary school. I have a daughter now - she’s two.” You told Leah, her expression shocked as you mentioned your daughter.

“A daughter? Wow. Congratulations, you and your partner must—” Leah began but you quickly cut her off

“—no partner. She was the result of a one night stand. He didn’t pull out in time and well, Emilia was born nine months later.”

Leah’s heart raced at the thought of you being single.

“How about you? Any partner on the scene?”

“Nope. Unless football counts?” Leah joked, a small smile on her face. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You’re celebrating with your team. I don’t want to keep you from them.”

“Can I please buy you a drink?” Leah repeated, a desperate look in her eyes.

“How can I say no when you used such good manners?” You teased

“Good.”

You don’t know how it happened.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was how hot Leah looked, but as soon as her lips touched yours, you knew she was gonna end up in your bed.

The two of you were hidden round a corner, away from the hustle of the club.

You were pushed up against a wall, Leah’s lips on your neck as you clawed at her back.

“Le…”

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed hearing you say my name. I’ve missed you.” Leah whispered in between kisses.

You let out a muffled moan as her teeth dug into your skin, her tongue soon soothing the pain.

“Your place?” Leah asked, not having to say anything else in order to make you understand.

“Yeah.” You whispered, a smile on both your faces as you realised what was to come.

You both made your way out of the club, a wave of fresh air hitting you as you walked along the pavement.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside your apartment, Leah’s hand on your hips as she pushed you against the door.

Her lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, her tongue soon finding its way into your mouth.

“Wait… what about your daughter?” Leah asked, quickly pulling away.

“At my friend’s house. I need a break every now and then. Now keep kissing me.”

Leah didn’t need to be told twice, your lips connecting.

I’m between kisses, you managed to find your keys, opening the door before stumbling inside.

You dumped everything in the opening of your apartment, throwing your heels off as you pulled at Leah’s shirt, pulling her close to you and placing your lips on hers.

Leah guided you to the sofa, lying you down gently before hovering over you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Leah asked, her breath fanning against your face.

“I want this, Leah, I want you.”

“Good because I want you too.”

Within minutes, you were both naked, your clothes somewhere in your apartment.

Leah’s lips travelled down to your boobs, her tongue nipping at your nipples as you pulled at her hair gently.

Once she was content, she continued moving downwards until her mouth was in line with your entrance.

She didn’t waste anytime, too desperate to feel you, to taste you, to make love to you.

Her tongue swiped through you folds, a moan falling from her lips as she took in your taste.

“Fuck you taste as good as I remember.”

Her tongue lapped at your folds, moans falling embarrassingly loudly from your mouth.

She moved to your clit, sucking and nipping gently at it.

“Right there, le. Fuck! Feels so good.”

She brought her middle finger to your entrance, slowly pushing into you as she continued to lick your clit.

Your legs began to shake with the added pleasure of her finger.

She thrusted into you quickly - with purpose.

“Le, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.”

“Never, darling.”

Her finger found your sweet spot, continuously pounding into it as your body shook with pleasure.

“Le!” You cried, your orgasm crashing over you.

Leah guided you through your orgasm, helping you ride it out before resting her head on your chest.

You kissed her forehead gently as she cuddled you.

Whether it be the alcohol, the sex or the whole situation, the two of you were knocked out in a matter of minutes.

The stress and realisation of what just happened could wait till the morning.

Meanwhile at the club, the Arsenal girls searched high and low around the building looking for Leah.

“Are we gonna have to call the police?”

[stylesispunk]

Blind faith | part ii

priest! Joel miller x night club dancer!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter |

summary: Priest Joel feels a strong need to get to know you better and help you, soon he would end up finding out more of you than he thought.

wc: 8,4k (i think)

warnings: age gap (joel is in his late 40s and reader last 20s), angst, fluff, mutual pining, women being misogynist towards reader, forbidden relationship. All topics will be addressed with all the respect.

a/n: The picture of him smoking was for a scene when reader finds him smoking, hidden behind the church but i forgot to write it I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I've had a thousand of intrusive thoughts and no time to think. I hope you like this one and how is being built. Reblogs and comments are really appreciated. Happy reading! 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

In the warm sunny spring of May when the night met the dark and lights reflected on the streets bustled with kids playing and families enjoyed meals. Joel was thinking about you. The cold had been replaced by the warmth irradiating from your smiled when you passed by, the way you spoke to him.

The cold had left him on May 3rd, the night you walked into town with the kind of presence that made people take a second look without knowing why. Since then, things had shifted in ways Joel hadn’t expected.

He felt it now, watching the world outside from the steps of the church. The night was warm, carrying the scent of fresh bread from the bakery down the street. Laughter echoed as children played in the dim glow of streetlights, their voices mixing with the low murmur of families gathered at restaurants.

But Joel wasn’t thinking about any of them. He was thinking about you.

Again, and again.

He caught himself doing that more than he should. Thinking about the way your smile softened the sharp edges of this town. The way you spoke to him—teasing, light, but never unkind. You had a way of making silence feel like something shared instead of something empty.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let his mind wander to you the way it did. Shouldn’t let himself anticipate the moment he’d see you again, even if it was just in passing.

But it was too late for that, wasn’t it?

Because two weeks had passed, and somewhere along the way, he had stopped feeling cold.

Joel stepped out of the Langdons’ house, nodding his thanks as Mrs. Langdon insisted, as always, that he take some leftovers home. He tucked the small bundle of bread and stew under his arm, offering her husband a firm handshake before stepping out into the warm May night.

Every Friday was the same—dinner at the Langdons'. Their children had all gone off to college, and the quiet of their home had settled into something heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was duty or habit that kept him coming back, but he knew what loneliness looked like, and he could never turn away from it.

The streets were lively tonight. Laughter spilled from open windows, the scent of grilled meat from the food stalls blending with the floral perfume of spring. Joel walked the familiar path home, nodding at those who greeted him. He offered quiet blessings to the older folks who still stopped to ask for them, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as he always did.

Then he reached The Paradise.

Joel never lingered near that place. The club sat at the edge of town like it had been dropped there by mistake, neon lights flickering against the darkened street. Tonight, it was more crowded than he’d ever seen. People lined up outside, men and women laughing, their faces half-lit by the pink glow of the sign above the door.

He tried not to judge. He really tried. But that place—it didn’t belong here. Not in a town where everything else was measured and quiet, where folks prided themselves on tradition. And yet, it stood, thriving in the shadows of the life he knew.

Joel kept walking, pushing it from his mind.

Then he thought about you.

You hadn’t come by the church in three days. He told himself it wasn’t strange. You were new in town, surely busy settling in. Maybe you had no reason to stop by.

But the thought sat heavy in his chest. Where were you now? Were you sleeping well? Joel shook his head. No. It wasn’t his place to wonder. It wasn’t his place to care.

And yet, as he turned onto his street, the question lingered in his head.

At Sunday, Joel stood in the pulpit, his voice echoing through the church with measure in his words. The warmth sunlight filtered through the glass windows, painting soft color along the wooden benches where people sat on. It was a beautiful morning, the church was full of families gathering, elders sitting in their usual spot, and children sitting beside their parents.

His preaching was about peace, about opening their hearts to love, forgiveness, to the unexpected kindness the world could offer to us when we pay attention.

"And sometimes," Joel preached, his gaze sweeping over the congregation, and people "beautiful things come when we least expect them. When we stop fighting, when we stop closing ourselves off… we find grace in the most unlikely places, like sunlight bathing our faces in a cold a day."

He had meant it as a general message, something for people to take home, to reflect on. But the moment the words left his lips; his breath came in short.

The moment you walked in.

The church doors let in a slant of golden morning light, and in the middle of it, there you were. It was almost cruel, the way you looked in that moment, how you fitted to his own words, like the light itself had been waiting to land on your skin. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening against the pulpit.

You scanned the room, looking for a seat, completely unaware of the way his entire body had gone still. When you finally settled in a pew at the back, he forced himself to swallow, to look away, to breathe.

The sight of you, bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun, framed by the high arch of the

Joel took a slow breath.

Joel had led countless sermons before, stood in front of his congregation so many times he could do it with his eyes closed. But now? Now, every word felt like it was meant for you.

“Beautiful things,” he said, his voice quieter now, rougher, “they come when you least expect them. They show up in places you never thought to look. And sometimes… sometimes, they scare us. Because letting them in means changing something in ourselves.”

Your eyes met his. Joel’s grip on the pulpit tightened.

You held his gaze, unmoving, unblinking, like you knew, like you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

He exhaled slowly.

“And when they come,” he murmured, the weight of you pressing against his chest from across the room, “it’s up to us whether we let them stay.”

The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of people’s steps, the quiet shifting of bodies in the pews. But Joel only saw you.

Your lips parted slightly, your fingers clutching at the hem of your dress, and the air between you felt charged, thick with something unsaid. His heart slammed against his ribs, and he knew, he knew, you understood what he meant.

He forced himself to finish the sermon, though the words blurred together, though his mouth felt dry. When it was over, he lingered longer than usual, shaking hands, nodding along to pleasantries, but his mind was elsewhere. It was on you.

Who was there, standing by the door, waiting.

He gathered all his courage, to go and find you outside, standing near the side of the church, your arms wrapped around yourself, as if bracing against the warmth of the sun. You didn’t look at him right away, but when you did, your expression was kind.

“That was a nice sermon,” you murmured when he stood, I front of you.

Joel huffed out something like a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You think so?”

You nodded, but your gaze was unreadable, cutting through him in a way that made his stomach tighten. “I think you were talking about me.”

He swallowed. “Maybe.”

You let out a breath, slow and measured, before stepping closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in your eyes, close enough that he caught the faintest hint of something sweet on your skin.

“Thank you, for trying to be kind and spread it” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel searched your face, his jaw tightening, like he was fighting something within himself. The way you looked at him, it made him uneasy, like you could see right through him. Like you could see the way he was holding himself back.

He exhaled sharply, glancing around to make sure no one was lingering before lowering his voice. “Do you wanna talk?”

Your brows lifted slightly, like you hadn’t expected it.

“Talk?” you repeated, almost testing the word, rolling it over your tongue.

Joel shifted on his feet. “Yeah. If you want.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment before nodding, laughing a bit “I actually came here to talk to you. I’m just nervous about people on here.”

“Why?” He asked

“I don’t belong here and I can feel it.”

“You belong where I am as long as you need” He reassured, looking at you with the kindness you were craving for weeks.

“Thank you, father.” you replied, smiling shyly at him.   

“Do you want to come inside?”

You nodded.

Joel signaled towards the door, letting you step inside first. The church was quiet now, emptied of its congregation, save for the lingering scent of incense and the dim glow of candles flickering near the altar.

You walked slowly down the aisle, your footsteps echoing in the vast space. The glass windows painted soft colors onto the worn pews that you hadn’t noticed before, casting patterns of blues and golds across the floor.

Joel watched as you moved, your fingers ghosting over the smooth wood of the benches, your gaze lifting toward the high ceiling. There was something in your expression, something lost, something looking for an answer.

“Have you ever prayed before?” he asked, his voice quiet in the stillness.

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting his. “I haven’t. Not in a long time, at least.”

He nodded, stepping closer, his presence warm, grounding. “You don’t have to do it now if you don’t want to.”

You exhaled softly, looking away. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Joel tilted his head. “Then don’t say anything.”

You swallowed, pressing your lips together, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto a pew, your hands clasped in your lap. Joel sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth but not touching.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

“Are you gonna tell me why you ended up here?” He asked.

You stiffed slightly, “I can’t tell you that.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his gaze steady but unreadable. He didn’t push; didn’t press for answers you weren’t ready to give. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly against the pew.

"Alright," he murmured. "I won’t ask."

You turned your head toward him, surprised by his easy acceptance. You had been waiting for more questions, for suspicion, for doubt. Instead, you were met with something else entirely, understanding.

"You’re not curious?" you asked, voice quieter now.

Joel’s fingers drummed lightly against his knee before he sighed. "‘Course I am. But if you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready."

You swallowed hard, glancing down at your hands. No one had ever let you keep your secrets without demanding something in return.

For a moment, the only sound in the church was the faint crackle of the candles burning near the altar.

Then, hesitantly, you spoke. "It’s not that I don’t want to tell you."

Joel turned his head slightly, waiting.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. "It’s just… if I say it out loud, it makes it real and I don’t want you to be tangled in my mess, you don’t deserve it."

Joel’s jaw clenched, something flickering in his expression. His voice was lower when he finally answered, rough around the edges.

"It’s already real, darling."

Your breath caught. It has been a really long time since someone had called you “Darling” and the way the nickname had come out his lips made it feel softer, more real.

You turned to face him fully now, heart pounding just a little too hard in your chest. "Father…"

He held your gaze, and for the first time since you had met, he looked like he was fighting something strong, something he wasn’t sure he should want.

And then, just as quickly as the moment came, he looked away.

"You are not gonna tell me, ”He murmured. "Just know that if you ever do… I’ll listen."

Your throat tightened, the warmth in your chest warring with the fear still tangled around your ribs.

"Okay, thank you" you whispered.

And for now, that was enough.

Joel hesitated only for a second before he reached out, offering you his hand.

You stared at it, his rough, calloused fingers, inviting you to hold it. For a moment, you didn’t move. Then, slowly, you placed your hand in his.

Warm. Solid. Protective.

Your fingers curled slightly around his, and Joel squeezed, just once, gentle and grounding, like he was telling you that he meant what he said. That he’d listen, that he’d be there.

The weight in your chest didn’t feel so heavy anymore. You felt light as a feather, and safe.

But then, the sound of the church doors creaking open shattered the moment.

Joel let go of your hand instantly, straightening, his expression shifting into something unreadable as footsteps echoed down the aisle.

A woman dressed in a modest blue dress, dark hair pinned neatly back, and the look in her eyes as she saw you sent a chill down your spine.

Her gaze flicked between you and Joel before she spoke, her voice tight. "Father Miller."

You recognized her. You’d seen her in town before, always watching, always whispering with the others when you passed.

Joel stiffened beside you. "Miss Elizabeth."

She barely acknowledged him before turning her sharp gaze to you. "You should go; I want to talk to the father privately. " she said flatly.

Something hot curled in your stomach, shame and sadness hitting at once.

"I was just leaving," you bit out, standing. You didn’t look at Joel as you stepped past him, willing your face to stay unreadable, unwilling to let this woman see how easily she could cut you down.

But just as you reached the door, you heard her voice again.

"You shouldn’t let her stay around you, Father," Evelyn said, her tone full of quiet disapproval. "She’s a bad influence."

Your breath hitched. You pushed the church doors open, stepping into the cool evening air. Your breath was unsteady, your pulse thrumming with anger, with hurt. You shouldn’t have let it get to you. You knew what people thought, what they whispered when they saw you. But hearing it out loud, hearing it in his presence, it stung more than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t know why, but what the priest thought about you was important.

Inside the church, Evelyn watched you go, her lips pressed into a thin line before she turned back to Joel.

Joel exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. "That so?" he pressed.

Evelyn nodded, stepping closer. "We all see it. You see it too. She doesn’t belong here. She is sin."

Joel’s fingers curled against the wooden pew. His shoulders were tense, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he considered his next words.

"Think that’s for me to decide," he said, his voice steady, but there was anger beneath it. “You cannot come to a church and preach bad things about someone. That’s sin.”

Evelyn scoffed, unimpressed. "I only hope you don’t regret it."

“What?”

“When she ruined the reputation, you hold on this place.” She warned.

Joel didn’t answer. He just watched the space you had left, sitting as a void on his heart.

“I have no reputation to keep on. I’m simply a priest, I offer help and guidance to people, so if you came here to spread bad words on someone, I would kindly ask you to leave.”

Evelyn’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m only looking out for you, Father. And for this town.”

Joel’s jaw tensed, his patience wearing thin. “You look out for yourself, Evelyn. I’ll look after the people who need it.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “People talk, Joel. They see the way you look at her.”

His chest tightened. “Then they should mind their own business.”

Evelyn’s mouth parted slightly, as if she wasn’t expecting him to be so blunt. But she recovered quickly, straightening her spine. “Suit yourself,” she muttered before turning on her heel and striding out of the church.

The heavy doors groaned as they shut behind her, leaving Joel in silence. But he didn’t feel peaceful. He felt rage.

His fists curled against his sides, his pulse still thrumming from the conversation, from the way Evelyn had spat those words like they were undeniable truths. Like he didn’t know what was best for himself.

And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to know it.

Joel exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face, cursing. He couldn’t let you to carry the whispers alone.

Later, at night you were nursing a cup of tea, trying to erase the memories and the twisting feeling inside your stomach. The truth was that you weren’t used to this, to be point out all the time or to receive glance and stares as if you were a witch waiting to be eliminated.

Without even wanting, your mind drifted to the priest, Joel. To his kindness, to his scent, or the warmth touch of his hands fitting yours. You smiled a bit at the memory, not even knowing why it was so special.

You noticed Carmen adjusting her dress in the small mirror by the door, smoothing the fabric over her hips before reaching for her earrings. The dim light of the house cast shadows on the walls, the air full with the scent of her perfume.

“You know,” she mused, glancing at you with a smirk, “ever since you got here, the club’s been busier.”

You looked up from where you sat on the worn-out couch, your arms wrapped around your knees. “What do you mean?”

Carmen chuckled, slipping her earrings on. “Men are curious creatures. They see something new, something mysterious, and they can’t help themselves.” She gave you a knowing look. “Some of them come just hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t like that idea at all “I don’t—”

“I’m not saying you did anything.” She waved a hand. “You barely speak to them, barely even look at them. And that’s what makes them even more interested.”

You swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s not a thing I feel proud of.”

Carmen shrugged, grabbing her shawl. “It’s business. And business is good.” She studied you for a moment before softening. “Look, I know you don’t love this place, but you have a way of drawing people in, chiquita.”

You exhaled, rubbing at your arms. “That’s not what I want.”

Carmen sighed, walking over and perching on the arm of the couch beside you. “Then what do you want?”

You hesitated. If you had been asked that question a few weeks ago, the answer would have been simple. You wanted to dance. You wanted to teach. You wanted a quiet, normal life, away from the danger.

Now? Now, you didn’t know.

Carmen must have seen the struggle on your face because she reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to stay here forever, you know.”

You blinked up at her. “Then why does it feel like I do?”

She sighed, squeezing your shoulder before standing up. “Because you haven’t figured out where else you want to be.”

You sat there, watching her drape her shawl over her shoulders, watching as she gave herself one last glance in the mirror before heading toward the door.

“I’ll be back late,” she called over her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have a date!” She told, opening the door, and then she was gone.

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing against your chest. You sat there for a long moment before finally pushing yourself up, grabbing your coat, and stepping out into the fresh night.

You needed air. You needed to think. You need to dismiss the longing feeling settled on your chest.

And before you even realized where your feet had carried you, you were standing at the street corner. You caressed your arms to keep yourself warm form the chilly cold air of the night, as you walked to the public telephone stood at the corner of the street, its metal surface cool against your fingers as you picked up the receiver and fed in the coins with shaking hands.

The dial tone buzzed in your ear, and then—

"Hola?"

Your chest tightened with sadness at the familiar voice. “Mateo,” you breathed.

"Hermana.” (sister) Relief laced his voice. “¿Dónde has estado? ¿Estás bien? (Where have you been? Are you okay?)

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Lo sé..Yo…” (I know…I-) You hesitated, your eyes darting around the empty street. “¿Cómo están las cosas? ¿Cómo está mi mamá y mi papá? (How are things going? How are mom and dad?)

There was silence on the other end, then a heavy sigh. "Preguntando por ti cada día. Están preocupados.” (They ask for you every day. They’re worried about you)

Guilt curled in your stomach. “Estoy bien, te lo juro.” (I swear I’m fine)

"¿Segura?” (Are you sure?) Mateo’s voice was softer now, filled with something you didn’t want to name. "Suenas diferente.” (You sounds different)

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment. “Es obvio que lo estoy, mateo.” (That’s obvious, Mateo) Your grip on the phone tightened. “No puedo ir a casa, ¿Cómo crees que me siento?” (I can’t go back home, How do you think that makes me feel?)

Because you had nothing to return to. Because the life you had before was gone.

Mateo sighed "¿Estás Segura que estás bien?" (Are you sure you’re okay?)

“¿Siguen buscándome?” you asked. (Are they still looking for me?)

Silence stretched between you both, thick with things left unsaid. “Vinieron a casa hace unos días” (They came home a few days ago)

Your throat tightened. “¿Encontraron algo?” (Did the find something?)

“No” he replied, “No hay rastro de ti.” (No, there´s no trace of you)

You hesitated before whispering, “Te extraño.” (I miss you)

"Yo también, hermana” (I miss you too, sister)

The line went dead. You stood there for a moment, the receiver still pressed to your ear, as if you could will his voice back.  You hang up the phone with force.

“Damn it!”

Joel had been walking back from the church, his mind tangled in thoughts he didn't want to face. The night air was cool against his skin, the quiet hum of the town settling into its usual lull. He didn’t expect to see you.

At least not like this.

He slowed when he caught sight of you by the public telephone, shoulders hunched, one hand still gripping the receiver like you wanted to crush it. Even from a distance, he could tell something was wrong.

Then you hung up the phone, hard, the sound of plastic smacking against metal sharp in the empty street.

“Damn it,” you hissed again, under your breath, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes.

Joel hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. “You alright?”

You startled slightly, turning to look at him, eyes glassy, lips parted as if you wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Joel took in the sight of you—the way your face was drawn tight, the way your hands trembled at your sides. Something twisted deep in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, softer this time, “what happened?”

You shook your head quickly, taking a step back as if trying to put space between you and the concern in his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Joel’s gaze flickered to the telephone, “Don’t look like nothing.”

You wiped at your eyes, like that could erase the evidence of your tears. “I just—” You swallowed hard, glancing away. “I was talking to my brother.”

Joel frowned, watching the way your jaw tightened, the way your fingers clenched at your sides.

“Do you have a brother?”

You let out a hollow laugh, nodding your head. “Yes,” You exhaled sharply, wrapping your arms around yourself. “He just reminds me how much I miss him and I can’t go back.”

Joel felt something in his chest pull at that.

He took a step closer to you, closing the space between you.

“You are not alone,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. “I’m pretty much I am”

Joel exhaled, then, without thinking, without second-guessing, he reached out for you.

His fingers brushed over your elbow first, just the faintest touch, before he slid his hand down, wrapping around yours.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, just enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, the way you were holding onto him like you weren’t sure if you should—but you needed to.

And maybe he needed to, too.

“Come on” he murmured. “Let’s get you something warm.”

For a moment, you just looked at him in awe, then, slowly, you nodded.

Joel didn’t let go of your hand as he led you away from the phone booth, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t about to let you disappear into the night.

The town was quiet this late, the streets empty except for the occasional glow of a porch light. The fresh night air bit at your skin, but Joel’s warmth beside you made it bearable.

His house wasn’t far. A modest place, tucked behind a small white picket fence, next to the church, the porch light flickering softly. He pushed open the front door, stepping aside to let you in first.

Inside, it smelled like vanilla and something faintly familiar, leather, soap, a trace of coffee lingering in the air. It was tidy but lived-in, books stacked on a side table, a jacket slung over a chair. The kind of place that felt like it had roots.

Joel shut the door behind you, locking it out of habit.

“You sit,” he murmured, nodding toward the couch. “I’ll make you some tea.”

You hesitated for a second before sinking onto the couch, your hands still curled into fists in your lap. You felt exposed. Like if he asked the right question, everything would spill out.

Joel disappeared into the kitchen, and you listened to the quiet clatter of cups, the whistle of the kettle warming up. It was strangely intimate, this moment. Like you belonged here. Like he wanted you here.

He returned after a moment, two mugs in his hands. He passed one to you before lowering himself onto the couch beside you, close but not too close.

“Hope chamomile’s alright,” he said. “Don’t got much else. I have to buy groceries.”

You wrapped your hands around the warmth of the cup, staring down into the steam. “Chamomile’s good.”

Joel hummed, watching you. You could feel his gaze on you, like he was waiting for you to say something.

Instead, you lifted the cup and took a sip. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing the tightness that had been there all night.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” His voice was gentle, but there was an edge of something else. Something protective.

You exhaled, staring down into your tea. And then, in the quiet of Joel’s home, in the safety of his presence, you whispered—

“I don’t feel like it yet” you said.

Joel didn’t push, just nodded, leaning back against the couch with his own mug in hand. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt steady. Like you didn’t have to fill it with words just to be understood.

The tea warmed your hands, and for the first time in what felt like days, you didn’t feel like you had to keep your guard up.

Joel watched you for a moment, then exhaled softly. “Alright,” he said. “If you change your mind, there’s food in the kitchen.”

You nodded, taking another slow sip.

“You can stay as long as you need,” he added. His voice was softer now, carrying something else beneath it. Something unspoken.

You swallowed. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Joel let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “You’re not.”

Your chest tightened at that. At the quiet conviction in his voice. You glanced at him, finding his gaze already on you, steady and unwavering. You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure of what you even wanted to say.

Instead, you just nodded again, gripping your mug a little tighter.

Joel didn’t push. He just sat there, sipping his tea, letting the night settle around you both.

Joel took another slow sip of his tea before setting the cup down on the table. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“What was it like? When you were a kid?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Figured it might be nice to talk about something else.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the warm mug, but then you sighed, letting your shoulders relax just a little.

“I used to climb trees,” you admitted after a moment. “There was this big one near our house. My brother and I would spend hours up there, making up stories, pretending we were somewhere else.” A soft smile tugged at your lips, the memory warming something deep inside you. “My mom used to scold me for coming home with dirt all over my clothes.”

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Bet you gave her hell.”

You laughed softly. “I did.”

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “And your best memory?”

You thought about it, searching through years of moments before settling on one. “Oh, I remember my dad took me to the ocean once. Just him and me. It was the first time I ever saw it. I remember how endless it felt, how small I was standing next to it.” You swallowed, fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “It was the first time I really felt there was a world beyond my home.”

Joel nodded, like he understood that feeling more than you realized.

“What about you?” you asked. “What was your childhood like?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Simple, I guess. Spent most of it in Texas, running around with my brother. We’d get into all kinds of trouble, nothing too bad, but enough to keep our mom on edge.” A fond look crossed his face. “She worked hard. Did her best to raise us right.”

You tilted your head. “And when did you decide to become a priest?”

Joel exhaled slowly, like he’d been expecting the question but still needed a moment to gather his thoughts. “Took me a long time,” he admitted. “Wasn’t always on this path. But after losing some people I cared about… I guess I needed something to hold onto. Something to believe in.”

You studied him, the flickering candlelight on his center table casting soft shadows over his face. There was something heavy in his voice, a weight he carried that you didn’t dare press into.

You hummed softly, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Sounds like you were looking for some peace.”

Joel glanced at you; his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was.”

A comfortable silence settled between you. The warmth of the tea, the dim glow of the room, the safety around Joel’s presence was all too much, too soothing for you. It didn’t take you so much time for your eyelids grew heavier, and before you realized it, your head had dipped onto his shoulder.

Your face was softened in the dim glow of the room, free of the tension that had been clinging to you all night. Your breathing was steady, your lips slightly parted, your lashes resting gently against your cheeks.

Joel swallowed hard. His heart felt heavy with something towards you.

He shouldn’t be looking at you like this. Shouldn’t be feeling the warmth of you against him like it was something sacred, something meant for him. But he couldn’t stop.

Carefully, he shifted, reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. He hesitated, watching the way a strand of hair had fallen over your face, the way your fingers twitched slightly in sleep. Then, with a slow movement, he pulled the blanket over you, tucking it carefully around your shoulders.

Still, he didn’t move away. His eyes traced your features, the soft curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fluttered briefly like you were dreaming. He wondered what kind of dreams you had. If they were peaceful. If they ever brought you the comfort you seemed to be searching for.

Joel exhaled, a long, quiet breath. He knew he should get up. Should put some distance between you. But instead, he stayed and his exhaustion eventually crept in. The steady rhythm of your breathing beside him pulled him under like a tide.

His head tilted slightly, his body instinctively leaning toward yours. His shoulder pressed more firmly against you, the weight of you grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was deep. Joel didn’t dream of regret, or of things lost.

Instead, he dreamed of warmth. Of something soft, something that smelled faintly sweet. Something that, for the first time in forever, didn’t feel so far out of reach.

The morning came too soon, with light filtering softly through the curtains, making you stir first, shifting slightly, only to realize you were pressed against someone.

Joel.

His arms were wrapped around you, one draped loosely over your waist, the other resting near your shoulder. His breathing was deep and steady, his body relaxed in a way you’d never seen before.

Your heart pounded as you stayed still, unsure of what to do. But the moment stretched too long, and eventually, Joel shifted, a low hum escaping his throat as he woke.

His grip on you tightened instinctively before realization dawned. His breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back, his arms withdrawing as if burned. His eyes met yours, still heavy with sleep but now filled with something else, something hesitant and vulnerable.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough, laced with something softer beneath.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Morning.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the warmth that still clung to your skin, of the way Joel was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure if he should apologize or pull you closer or even touch fire.

“I should get going,” you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

Joel’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just studied you, like he was trying to memorize something. Then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, you should.”

You sat up slowly, letting the blanket slip from your shoulders. The absence of his warmth made the morning chill settle deeper into your bones.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, still watching you. “You—uh—need me to walk you back?”

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine.”

But neither of you moved.

Joel’s fingers tapped against his knee, restless. “Did you sleep, okay?”

You nodded, offering the smallest of smiles. “Yeah. Better than I have in a while.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost like relief. He exhaled through his nose, then stood, running a hand through his hair. “Good.”

You forced yourself to move, to put distance between you both before you did something reckless. Like staying. Like telling him how safe you felt with him around.

You reached the door, hesitating with your hand on the knob. You glanced back at him, at the way he was still standing there, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You offered a quiet, “See you around, father.”

“Joel” he said, “Just call me by my name.”

You froze for a moment, your hand still on the door, the weight of his words sinking into you. Just call me by my name.

It was simple, but it felt like a shift, like something important was happening without either of you fully understanding it.

You nodded slowly, the softest of smiles curving your lips. “Okay. See you around, Joel.”

His gaze softened, just a little, but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same conflict that had been there since the first day you'd met. It was like he was trying to find a way to make things simpler, even though neither of you were sure how.

You opened the door, stepping out into the morning, but for a moment, you stood there, just outside, with your back to him. The silence between you stretched, and in the stillness, you almost expected him to call out to you.

But he didn’t.

You swallowed and took a step away, then another. Each step felt heavier than the last. You didn’t want to go. But you knew you had to.

And Joel? How could he even stop thinking about you when you had turned this town technicolor after ages of scarlet rusting maroon. How he could even stop thinking about the way your eyes wrinkled when you smiled, how they shone under the lights, or how you felt against his chest?

You had turned his life upside down the moment he saw you there, sleeping the church pew. You had settled a warm feeling on his chest, stuck there strangling his heart in a way he feared. He hadn’t felt like this before your orbit crashed into his.  

Joel sat quietly in the church, his hands clasped in his lap, his gaze fixed on the altar. He couldn’t help but think about you, how you had walked out of his house that morning, and how your absence already felt like a quiet ache in the pit of his chest.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft murmur of voices coming from the entrance. A group of ladies from the town had entered, their soft footsteps echoing in the vast space. They gathered near the back, speaking in low tones. Joel, still lost in his thoughts, didn’t immediately notice them approaching.

One of the women, Evelyn, caught his attention first. Her eyes were sharp, her smile polite but lacking warmth. She was one of the more outspoken people in the town—always quick to comment on matters she found troubling.

“Father Joel,” she called out, her voice cutting through the quiet.

He turned toward them, nodding in greeting. “Good morning, Evelyn. Ladies, How are you today?”

Evelyn gave a tight smile, but there was something in her eyes that made Joel wary. She wasn’t here for a casual conversation.

“We’re doing well, Father. Just came to see you,” she said, her gaze flickering briefly to the side before returning to him. “I heard something troubling... about you spending time with that girl.” Her tone was deliberate, like she wanted to plant a seed of doubt.

Joel’s stomach tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The new girl in town,” Evelyn continued, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “You know, the one who came in from out of nowhere. We’ve all seen the way she’s been acting, and we’re concerned, Father. You’ve always been such a pillar in this community... we don’t want to see you caught up in anything... inappropriate.”

The words hit him like a cold gust of wind, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he stared at her, his jaw clenched. “She’s a member of this town now,” he said, his voice firm, but controlled. “She’s just as much a part of this community as anyone else, and she deserves kindness and support, just like everyone else.”

Evelyn’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, her voice laced with venom. “Of course, Father. But kindness and support don’t always mean turning a blind eye to things that don’t belong. We just want to make sure you're not... getting too close to someone who might cause trouble for you.”

The group of women exchanged glances, their murmurs growing louder now, but Joel didn’t care. He could feel the sting of their judgment, but he wasn’t about to let it change him. Not today. Not after everything he’d felt in the past few days.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking at them.

“Do you know the reason why there are so many people going to that club? The paradise?” Evely asked, testing the waters. “It’s her! She dances there, she is seducing men and perhaps women too, who knows?”

Joel's body stiffened at the words, a cold wave of anger sweeping through him, but he kept his face neutral, not allowing them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply their accusations cut. The audacity of the women to come into his sacred space, spreading lies about you.

"That’s a serious accusation," he said, his voice dangerously calm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at Evelyn. "And it's based on nothing but rumors and gossip."

Evelyn smirked, clearly pleased by the effect her words had. "Rumors? You know as well as we do that the truth isn’t always so clean. She came here from nowhere, and now look—more men are visiting the club than ever before. It's obvious. You might be blind to it, Father, but we're not."

Joel took a deep breath, willing himself to remain composed, but inside, he was seething. He could feel the lies curling around his chest, suffocating him. How dare they accuse you like that, especially when they had no idea what you were going through? He had seen you at your lowest, and not once had he seen any evidence of the things they claimed.

"What you’re saying is based on assumptions," Joel replied evenly. "You don’t know her. You don’t know what she’s been through. And as for what happens in the club, it’s not for any of you to judge." He took a step forward, his voice rising slightly, but still under control. "I will not stand here and listen to these baseless accusations. You know nothing of her, and you certainly know nothing about me."

The women were silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Evelyn’s smile slipped, but she quickly recovered, trying to keep control of the conversation. "We’re just worried, Father. We want what’s best for you. We care about you."

Joel didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t bring himself to care about their concern when they were so willing to tear down someone he had come to care for. Instead, he stood his ground, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” he said finally, his voice firm. “And I don’t need you to make decisions about who I spend time with. I will not be part of any of this. If you want to continue to talk about people behind their backs, you can do it without me.”

Without waiting for another word, he turned and walked away from them, his footsteps echoing through the church. He didn't look back as he left, the sense of their eyes on his back weighing heavily, but he refused to let it break him.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But the thought lingered on his head the whole day.

So, when the night came and it felt darker than usual, Joel walked through the quiet streets. He had changed into a worn-out jacket and a baseball cap, trying to blend into the shadows, to not be seen. He couldn’t bear the idea of anyone recognizing him, not in a place like this. The rumors had been eating at him all day, and he couldn’t ignore the need to see for himself, to find the truth.

His footsteps were almost silent as he approached the entrance of The Paradise. The neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the sidewalk, and the sound of muffled bass and chatter seeped through the walls. As he stepped inside, the dimness hit him first, the low, seductive hum of the music, the scent of alcohol and smoke lingering in the air. The people inside were lost in their own worlds, laughing, shouting, and watching the stage with eager anticipation.

He stood still for a moment, taking in the scene. His heart pounded in his chest, and he swallowed hard. The place was everything he had imagined, and yet it felt so foreign to him. He never thought he would set foot in a club like this, let alone come to watch you perform.

The house lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. The host’s voice echoed through the speakers presenting the next dancer.

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as the music shifted, slow and sultry. He watched as the spotlight flickered, landing on the stage just in time for you to emerge from the shadows. The crowd erupted into applause, but to Joel, it felt like the world had stopped.

You appeared, standing in the center of the stage, your silhouette framed by the soft red glow of the lights. You were wearing a red lace outfit, the fabric clinging to your body in all the right places. For a moment, Joel couldn’t breathe. The way you moved, the way you owned the space, graceful, mesmerizing, and completely unbothered by the eyes that followed your every step.

The applause from the crowd blurred into background noise as Joel’s gaze locked on you. Every motion you made was fluid, confident, hypnotic. His eyes traced the curve of your body as you moved with a sensuality that made his heart race, his mind spinning. There was something about the way you held yourself, the way you seemed so comfortable in your own skin, that had him entranced.

This was different from the woman he had get to know. This was you, unapologetically owning the stage, every movement a story, every sway of your hips a command. He had never seen you like this before.

Joel’s body tensed as he watched, his heart beating faster than he could keep up with. He tried to remind himself that this wasn’t you, this was just the person you had created, the role you were playing.

The music pulsed through you, guiding your movements as you danced. The crowd's cheers and whistles blended into the background, but all you could focus on was the rhythm of your body and the heat in the air. Every step, every sway was a release, a moment to escape. You had become this character, this untouchable, confident woman who commanded the stage. It was easy to disappear into it.

But then, amidst the sea of faces, your eyes found his.

Joel’s presence felt like a sudden pull, a gravity you hadn’t prepared for. You froze, your body stilling mid-motion as your gaze locked with his. His dark eyes, usually so calm and guarded, were wide with something raw, something you couldn't quite name. The moment seemed to stretch, as if the world around you had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in a charged uncomfortable silence.

For a split second, everything around you was muffled, the music, the applause, the cheering, none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was the look on his face, the way he stood there, frozen, watching you. And the shock in your chest came crashing in, like a wave pulling you under.

Your heart skipped, the rhythm of your dance faltering. Your breath hitched as you felt your skin flush, your mind racing. You hadn’t expected him to be here, not like this. You hadn’t expected him to be watching you, not with that look on his face. And yet, there he was, standing in the darkened corner, his eyes wide, his body rigid, as if he had been caught in a moment he hadn’t anticipated.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. It was as though your body had forgotten how to do anything but stare back at him.

Joel didn’t look away. His eyes didn’t flicker. There was no mask of indifference this time. The look he gave you was so intense, so filled with something, disappointment, perhaps. It made your heart race and your legs feel weak. It was like you had broken through some invisible barrier between you, and for a moment, you weren’t the dancer on stage, you weren’t the woman who hid behind this person. You were just…you. And he could see it.

You blinked, your breath catching. And then, before you could stop yourself, you took a step back, your mind fighting against the weight of the moment. The music swirled around you again, but you couldn’t focus on it anymore. You felt like you were suffocating under the weight of his gaze.

Forcing yourself to continue, you tried to pick up the rhythm, but the fluidity of your movements had disappeared. The grace, the confidence, it was all gone. All that was left was the shock of that moment, the stunned recognition that maybe, just maybe, you had let him in. And he had seen more than you had ever intended.

The music seemed to echo louder now, a backdrop to the chaos in your head. You couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, burning through your every motion.

The song neared its end, and as you finished the routine, you stood still for a moment, your eyes once again locking with his across the room. The crowd erupted in applause, but you didn’t hear it. All you heard was the rapid beat of your own heart and the thoughts racing in your mind.

His heart raced as he turned and walked quickly toward the exit, avoiding the curious glances of the people around him. He pushed the door open to the night air, stepping out into the dimly lit street, his thoughts in a chaotic spiral.

tags: if you want to be removed, you're free to tell me.

@jasminedragoon @mandaloriankait @jellybeanxc @spencercmlover @lilac-boo @disco-fairy75 @correapunk @existentialdreadofhumanity @secretcheesecakenacho @laliceee @exzidss @missladym1981

@drewharrisonwriter @hjzghi-blog @picketniffler @nobodyssfool @pedritosgirl2000 @koshkaj-blog @cigarxttxs @sweetpeakarolinaaa @wandasimp-69 @canteenee4 @obivari @shortandderanged @casualbananapatrol @stevie75 @hammerhead1776 @brittmb115 @strangersdotmp3 @goodvibesonly421 @jackie923 @lunpycatavenue @capuccinodoll

@iamtoriasworld @priincehoseok @luunarr0 @dinomecanico @missadangel @alrihhty

[cameronsbabydoll]

SUGAR-COATED CHAINS — CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WARNINGS: possessiveness, controlling behaviors from rafe, alcohol, light smut, jealousy

The jet was too much. The gleaming leather seats, the polished gold accents, the champagne that was poured before you even sat down. It was luxury in a way that still made your stomach twist, like you were sitting in someone else’s life.

And maybe you were.

Rafe, on the other hand, fit in seamlessly. Legs spread comfortably, hand draped over your thigh, a picture of effortless wealth and control. His fingers traced absentminded circles against your skin, his other hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

“You’re nervous,” he noted, voice smooth as ever. You didn’t have to say anything—he felt it in the way you tensed under his touch, the way your fingers clutched the seatbelt a little too tightly.

“I just—” You inhaled sharply as the jet hit a small pocket of turbulence. Rafe’s grip tightened.

“Relax, angel. I’ve got you.”

His words came with a gentle squeeze, grounding and possessive all at once. You let out a shaky breath, letting him pull you a little closer.

By the time you landed, the anxiety had settled, but the overwhelming nature of everything hadn’t. The black car waiting on the tarmac. The staff at the hotel practically bowing as they ushered you both into the private elevator.

And the penthouse—oh, the penthouse.

It wasn’t just a hotel suite. It was a whole world. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the London skyline, marble floors so clean they practically gleamed, a bedroom bigger than your old apartment.

You turned in slow circles, eyes wide, taking it all in.

“Get used to it,” Rafe murmured, watching you from the doorway. His smirk was unreadable, somewhere between amusement and satisfaction. Like he liked seeing you awestruck, overwhelmed, reminded of exactly whose world you were in now.

—

London changed him. Or maybe it just brought out a side of him you hadn’t seen in full before.

You saw it in the meetings, the way he spoke—clipped, precise, commanding. The way men in suits nodded when he talked, how no one questioned him.

He barely acknowledged you when he worked, but you always felt his presence. A hand brushing your lower back as he walked past. A glance in your direction between sharp words and business deals.

But when those cold blue eyes landed on you, they softened—just a little.

Possessive. Indulgent. Watchful.

Like even in a room full of powerful men, you were the thing he wanted to keep closest.

—

That night, he had an event. A business dinner, a gala—something that required a dress code you weren’t used to.

He laid it out for you himself. Something sleek, expensive, unmistakably his taste.

You ran your fingers over the fabric, hesitating.

“I don’t know, Rafe—”

“You do know.” He stepped behind you, hands resting on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Wear it for me, angel.”

And you did.

Later, when he fastened a necklace around your throat, his fingers brushed over the pulse there. A quiet moment, but charged.

“Now you look the part.” A kiss against your jaw. “My girl.”

—

The moment you walked into the room, you felt out of place. The women were elegant, poised, practiced in a way you weren’t. The men—all in their expensive suits, exuding power—barely looked at you.

But Rafe never let you drift too far.

His touch was constant. A hand on your waist. His fingers grazing your wrist. A light, possessive squeeze whenever you so much as stepped an inch away.

Someone asked how long you two had been together.

Before you could answer, Rafe did.

“Feels like forever.” His voice was smooth, effortless. The words weren’t just for them—they were a reminder to you.

Later, when he handed you a glass of champagne, his fingers lingered on yours. His blue eyes glinted.

“You like it here, don’t you?” His voice was quiet, but the weight of the question pressed against your ribs.

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

What else could you do?

Rafe’s smirk was slow, satisfied.

“Good girl.”

—

Back in the penthouse, the city stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, London glowing beneath the night sky. The energy of the evening still hummed in your veins—the champagne, the flashing cameras, the whispers of powerful men, the way Rafe’s hand had never left your body.

Now, it was just the two of you.

He was unbuttoning his shirt, sleeves rolled up, leaning against the dresser as he watched you. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic below.

“Do you like it here?” he asked again.

Your breath caught. You had already answered this.

You nodded once, hesitantly.

The smirk that curved his lips was slow, knowing.

“Good girl.”

But there was something else in his eyes tonight—something sharp, something hungry.

You barely had a moment to react before he crossed the room, grabbing your wrist, pulling you flush against his chest. The scent of whiskey, cologne, and something unmistakably Rafe surrounded you.

“Been watching you all night,” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher. “Acting all sweet, all proper. Letting those men look at you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the fabric of his open dress shirt.

“I wasn’t—”

He tsked, his grip tightening at your waist.

“Not your fault,” he mused. “Can’t blame them, can I? You’re fucking perfect.” His fingers trailed down, tracing the outline of your dress, before gripping the expensive fabric. “And you’re mine.”

Your body melted at his words, heat pooling in your stomach as his lips found your jaw, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin.

He backed you up until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he hushed, pressing a kiss just below your ear, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “Let me take care of you, angel.”

You sighed as he guided you down onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the silk sheets.

His control had been ironclad all night—polished smiles, smooth words, calculated touches. But now? Now, he was unraveling.

And he was taking you with him.

—

Somehow, between the business and the control, you convinced him to let you do one thing you wanted.

Afternoon tea.

The kind with the tiny sandwiches and pastel pastries, with waiters in crisp uniforms and floral-patterned teacups.

You practically lit up when the tower of treats arrived, and Rafe, for all his teasing, let you have your moment.

“You’re really excited over crustless bread, huh?” His smirk was all condescension, but when you pouted, he rolled his eyes and reached for a teapot.

“You want sugar?”

You blinked.

“You’re…pouring my tea?”

“Don’t make it weird,” he muttered, dropping sugar into your cup like he’d been doing it his whole life.

Your heart fluttered.

Later, you dragged him into a bookstore—one of those old, cozy ones with towering shelves and a smell that reminded you of childhood.

Rafe, predictably, was unimpressed.

“You have a whole stack at home.”

“But I need these.”

He sighed, but you caught the faint smirk as he trailed behind you.

“Pick whatever you want.”

And you did.

—

Back in the penthouse, after the flight back from London, Rafe was unbuttoning his shirt, sleeves rolled up as he leaned against the dresser, watching you.

His question from earlier still lingered in the air.

Do you like it here? This life?

You should have said something else. Something real.

But instead, you had nodded. And Rafe had smirked.

And now, as he reached for you, pulling you onto his lap, his lips ghosting against yours, you knew

The world around you was gilded, beautiful, glittering.

And the leash around your throat had just gotten tighter.

[rafes-slut]

You love being brat and pissing rafe off because it turns you on

Pairing: dom!Rafe Cameron x Brat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, degradation, rough fingering, dirty talk, choking, slight dom/sub dynamics, power play, toxic dynamic, Rafe being aggressive and controlling, reader enjoys anger/roughness, cursing, overstimulation, possessive behavior, jealousy, (fingering), mildly embarrassing arousal, manhandling, general smutty tension — 18+ ONLY

You loved getting Rafe mad.

No—loved wasn’t even the word. It was your favorite game, your favorite pastime, and honestly, probably your worst habit. But there was just something about the way his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt, and how those thick veins in his neck and arms would pop, that did things to you.

And you’d been doing it since the two of you got together—pushing his buttons on purpose, picking petty fights, saying reckless shit just because you knew it’d make him lose it. And when he lost it. God. You could practically come untouched. His voice would raise, his tone sharp and biting, and your thighs would press together like it was muscle memory—your body betraying you every damn time.

It was embarrassing.

It was dirty.

And it turned you on more than anything in the world.

At first, Rafe hadn’t gotten it. He used to think you were just being difficult, being bratty because you were bored. But somewhere along the way, he figured it out—noticed how you’d bite your lip when he got in your face, how your breathing got shallow, your pupils blown wide when he’d call you out, snap at you, manhandle you.

He knew.

And the sickest part. He liked it, too.

You were his girl—his problem, his obsession—and as much as you drove him insane, he’d never leave you high and dry. Even when you didn’t deserve to be touched, especially when you didn’t deserve it.

Today you had really pushed it.

He was beyond pissed, and for once, he wasn’t playing. You’d been poking and poking all damn day—hanging out with people he hated, talking back, running your mouth like you wanted him to snap.

"Get your ass over here. Now."

His voice was low, deadly, dangerous. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, blue eyes like fire. His chest was heaving and his teeth clenched so tight his jaw looked like it might crack.

You swallowed thickly, eyes flicking down to his arms, watching as his biceps flexed when his fists curled. Veins thick and prominent. He was fuming.

You should have been scared.

Instead, you were soaked.

You didn’t move fast enough. His patience, already threadbare, snapped as he crossed the room in two quick strides, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him roughly. His hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in, forcing you to look at him.

“You’ve been pissing me off all day, and now you think you’re gonna stand there and play innocent?” His voice was venomous, his breath hot against your lips. “You think I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your brain was mush, your panties ruined.

He let out a bitter laugh, his hand sliding down from your jaw to your throat, gripping—not tight, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You love this, don’t you? Love getting me mad. You get wet from it.”

Your silence betrayed you. He felt the slight tremble in your legs.

“Fucking sick little girl,” he hissed, pushing you backward until your knees hit the bed, and you fell onto it with a small gasp. “You’ve been begging for it all damn day, but I’m too fucking pissed to give it to you.”

Your heart sank for a second, arousal turning into needy frustration. “Rafe—”

“Shut the fuck up.” His tone was sharp, and your mouth snapped shut instantly.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, jerking your thighs apart, not giving a damn that you were in just a shirt—his shirt—and panties. The way his eyes darkened when he saw the damp patch on the fabric made you whimper.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to be used?” He yanked your panties down roughly, tossing them aside. “Not gonna fuck you. Don’t deserve it. But I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll remember who owns this pussy.”

His fingers were rough, thick digits plunging into you before you could even breathe, let alone adjust. Your back arched off the bed, a loud moan ripping out of your throat.

“Yeah, that’s right. Take it.” His voice was low, brutal, his fingers pumping into you at a brutal pace, knuckles deep, curling in just the right spot. “You wanted this, didn’t you? This is why you’ve been acting like a little brat.”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking your eyes from how hard he was going, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit in a way that had you seeing stars.

His other hand came up, gripping your throat again, harder this time, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. “You get off on me being mad, huh? Fucking filthy, baby. You’re such a dirty little slut for me.”

Your legs were shaking, breath coming in ragged pants, hips trying to jerk away from the relentless assault of his fingers, but he didn’t let up.

“You’re not going anywhere. Take it. Take it like a good fucking girl.”

Your vision blurred as your climax slammed into you like a freight train—loud, messy, shaking with the force of it as you sobbed his name. But he didn’t stop.

“Not done. You wanted to play, now take the consequences.” His fingers didn’t stop. If anything, they went faster, harder, dragging another orgasm out of you so soon it was too much.

You were crying by the time he finally pulled away, your thighs soaked, pussy wrecked, his fingers glistening. He wiped them on your inner thigh, eyes dark and full of possession.

“You’re mine. Don’t fucking forget it.” His voice was still harsh, but softer than before, and he leaned down, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“And next time you want to make me mad,” he murmured, biting your lip, “I’m fucking your brains out.”

[imreidswifey]

request!

fem!reader who's just so so enamoured with how pretty Spencer is and she often just stares at him for long periods of time (not in a weird creepy way, like she zones out and doesn't realize how long she's staring). Spencer notices when she does this and he gets all flustered every time. like to the point where he can't focus on whatever he's doing. Then when they're alone Spencer let's her just look at him and like, trace his facial features and stuff? like they're having a conversation on the couch and r is just tracing Spencer's jawline or the bridge of his nose with her fingers?

apologies if this isn't a very good idea, if i was dating Spencer I'd be doing this all the time!! he's so pretty omg.

-🪲

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

w/c: 5.2k

a/n: AHHHH THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST EVERR!! Im actually so happy y'all dont understand 🤭 thank you so much 🪲! This req was literally perfect and was a dream to writee i actually like love u so much and I hope I did what you wanted with this prompt!!

———

Spencer Reid had the kind of beauty that made my heart ache.

Not in a fleeting, superficial way—but in a way that settled deep in my bones, in a way that made everything else in the world seem dull in comparison. It was unfair, really, how effortlessly stunning he was.

I didn’t think he realized it, which only made it worse.

It was everything—the soft, golden curls that always seemed to fall perfectly into place no matter how often he raked a hand through them. The sharp lines of his cheekbones, the way they caught the light when he turned his head just so. His hazel eyes, warm and thoughtful, always filled with something unreadable yet captivating.

I was enamored. Absolutely, irreversibly enamored.

And I had a habit.

A terrible, unbreakable habit.

I stared at Spencer Reid. A lot.

Not in a creepy, overbearing way—I didn’t gawk or leer. It wasn’t intentional, either. I just… got lost in him sometimes.

It happened when he was deep in thought, tapping his fingers against his chin while reading some obscure book that no one else in the team could decipher. Or when he was talking, completely oblivious to how mesmerizing he looked while explaining quantum physics or behavioral patterns.

It was never on purpose.

But Spencer noticed.

Every single time.

———

I was supposed to be working.

I really was.

But Spencer was sitting across from me, brow furrowed in concentration as he flipped through a case file. His glasses—those damn glasses—were perched on the bridge of his nose, the thin gold frame complementing the warm undertones of his skin.

I was done for.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring until Spencer suddenly stopped moving.

I blinked, snapping back to reality. His hazel eyes met mine, slightly wide, as if I’d caught him off guard—though, in reality, he had caught me.

Again.

The air between us shifted, crackling with something unspoken. Spencer’s fingers twitched against the pages of his file, but he didn’t turn away.

Instead, his blush started to rise.

I knew the pattern by now—the way it crept up his neck, painting his cheeks a soft, rosy hue. The way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite form the words.

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Spence?”

He cleared his throat, breaking eye contact far too quickly.

“You’re—uh—” He gestured vaguely, struggling. “You’re doing it again.”

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Doing what?”

His jaw clenched slightly, and he let out a breath through his nose.

“You know what.”

A small laugh escaped me.

Before I could tease him further, Hotch’s voice cut through the moment.

“You two.”

I jumped, realizing that everyone was staring at us. Emily raised a knowing brow, JJ bit back a smirk, and Derek—of course—was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

Spencer, on the other hand, looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“We’re moving forward with the profile,” Hotch continued, eyes narrowing slightly. “Unless, of course, you’re both too… distracted.”

Spencer made a noise in his throat—something between a cough and a strangled squeak—and immediately buried himself in his notes.

I felt the warmth of amusement bloom in my chest.

I really needed to get better at hiding my staring.

———

It wasn’t until later that night that I got the chance to properly admire Spencer without the weight of an audience.

The two of us were curled up on my couch, the soft glow of my reading lamp casting a golden hue over everything. A book lay open in his lap—something about classical philosophy—but neither of us were really focused on it.

Spencer was talking, his voice low and soothing as he explained something about Socratic irony. I was listening—really, I was—but my hands had a mind of their own.

Without thinking, I reached out, my fingertips ghosting over the sharp line of his jaw.

Spencer inhaled sharply, his words cutting off mid-sentence.

His gaze snapped to mine, hazel eyes wide and unreadable.

I didn’t stop.

I traced the curve of his cheekbone, my touch feather-light, barely there. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips, and I could feel the way his jaw tensed slightly, as if he wasn’t sure whether to lean into my touch or pull away.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he swallowed, throat bobbing slightly.

“You—” His voice was barely a whisper. “You do this a lot.”

I smiled, letting my fingers trail along the bridge of his nose, then down to the corner of his lips.

“I know.”

Spencer’s breath hitched.

His hands clenched slightly against his lap, as if he was holding himself back. His blush deepened, spreading across his cheeks like wildfire.

I leaned in slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want me to stop?”

For a moment, I thought he might say yes.

But then—slowly, hesitantly—he exhaled and shook his head.

“No,” he murmured.

That was all the permission I needed.

I took my time, memorizing him the way I always wanted to. My fingers traced the sharp planes of his face, following the path of freckles that dusted his nose. He stayed perfectly still, his breath uneven, his lips parting slightly at my touch.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, his lashes fluttering against his cheek. When he opened them again, there was something raw in his gaze—something vulnerable and breathtaking.

“You really think that?” he asked softly.

I let my thumb brush against his cheek.

“I know that.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, his hands finally moving. One of them lifted, hesitating before resting over mine. He held it there, pressing my palm against his cheek, as if grounding himself in the moment.

And then, in the softest voice I’d ever heard from him, he whispered, “I like it when you look at me.”

My heart clenched.

I smiled, leaning in just a little closer. “Good.”

Because I wasn’t going to stop.

Not now. Not ever.

———

Spencer Reid didn’t need words to be poetry.

He was poetry in the way he blushed, in the way he stammered when I caught him off guard. He was poetry in the way he let me trace my fingers over his skin, in the way he closed his eyes and melted into my touch.

He was poetry in the way he let me look at him.

And I never wanted to stop reading.

———

Tyy 🪲 for requesting this!!!

[ipushhimback]

rubber bands and weights

pairing: lando norris x reader warnings: none words: 800

summary: you ‘secretly’ worked out to show Lando you are able to keep up with him…

As soon as you had started dating Lando he told you he would love for you to do his workouts with him. And you agreed. Which you immediately regretted after the first workout. Or so you thought. Because actually, that had just been the “warm-up”. 

You had told Lando you would stop doing the workouts with him. You quit. You fell on the couch and just watched tv being frustrated. 

But of course you did the workout again. Though this time without Lando. His workout was jotted down in a notebook so you opened it and started. That went on for about two months. One day you went to Lando, flopping onto the couch, or more on him, and looked up at him.

”Landoooooo?”, you said as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“What do you want, baby? Huh? Food? Drink?”, he asked you as he wrapped his arms around you to hug you close- 

“Noo. Can we do the workout together tomorrow?”, you asked him with that pout that never fails to make Lando weak so he agreed to practically everything.

”Are you sure? Like a hundred percent sure? Because last time you quit after the warm up. And watched tv for the rest of the day. I mean we could also just go for a run or so?”

”A run, Lando? A fucking run? You want me to run around like a chicken? Nah. I won’t do that. No way”, you said as you tried to sit up again but Lando held you down. 

“Ok ok. I got it. No runs. So you really want to do that workout again?”

”Yes. I promise last time it was just too early or so, you know? I just didn’t have the energy for sports…”, you said trying to convince Lando. 

“Ok, then. Let’s do it tomorrow. 11 AM. And not a single second later. We’ll warm up, then do some strengthening exercises and then we’ll eat something with a lot of protein.”

You looked at Lando and decided it had been a bad idea to ask Lando to do the workout. You just ruined your plans to sleep until 1 PM the next day and go to a nice restaurant. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? You were the one proposing to do the workout with me!”, Lando complained as he caught you pouting. 

“Yeah all good. No I am really looking forward to doing the workout with you, Lan”, you said forcing a smile. 

***

The next morning you woke up tired as fuck. No. Setting an Alarm for 10:30 has definitely been a bad idea. 

You changed into your gym shorts, that you actually only chose because you hoped your ass would distract Lando from correcting every single mistake you were going to make, and went to the kitchen to drink a Red Bull to wake your body up.

And 10 more minutes later you were standing in the fitness room of your and Lando’s apartment. The problem - he pulled out some resistance bands and some weights and you were almost a hundred percent certain that those weren’t contained in the workout that was written down in Lando’s little notebook. 

“Uhm… Lan? Baby?”, you cleared your throat, “what… what are all those… rubber bands and weights?” 

Lando looked up and you saw a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. 

“Since you already practiced so much over the last months I figured it was time for you to try something different! It is not good to always do the same workout, baby. You also have to target other muscles and challenge them. So I decided to make a new workout plan extra for you”, he said grinning as he walked over and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Me? Practice? Uhm… no? I… the last time I did the workout was with you”, you protested but you even felt how your cheeks flushed. 

“Yeah, sure, babe. You remember how we installed those cameras in the apartment for when we are not home to see that everything’s alright?”, he asked you, smirking. 

“OH MY GOD! I forgot those!”, you exclaimed as you facepalmed yourself. “I am such an idiot! Landoooo! Why didn’t you say something earlier?”, you whined. “I wouldn’t have tortured myself with those damn workouts!”

“Well, I didn’t say something because I was thinking it might actually help you so I don’t always have to be the one opening your water bottle because you are not strong enough. Now, let’s start. And I know what you are trying to do with those shorts. Not working. Now on the ground. We’ll start with sit-ups.”

You glared at Lando. “You are evil…”

Lando just smirked.

a/n: again just something small bc i have so much going on with school atm but i hope you like it <3

tags: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicqlivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 / @anayaverse 

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 8

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: omg first I love you!!! New characters just dropped.... hi Lotte!! Y/n being away from Kyra for the first time <3

Word count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

notes: This was my biggest chapter so far <3 yay

..

“Did you pack everything?” Y/n asked for what felt like the millionth time. “Extra socks, extra shirts, extra–”

Kyra silenced her with a kiss. “The only thing missing from my suitcase is you,” she said, stepping back– just far enough to discreetly stuff two more pairs of socks into her bag; because yes, she had forgotten.

Y/n pretended she didn’t see it for the sake of her mental well-being. 

“Relax, it’s not the first time I travel, you know,” Kyra said, closing her suitcase.

“I know! I just don’t want you to forget important stuff!”

“If I forget anything I’ll just take Steph’s,” Kyra shrugged.

I don’t think Steph would like that.”

“I'll gaslight her into thinking everything I take is actually mine,” Kyra said.

“Have you ever played mind games with me?”

“Nope, when it comes to you, I just let myself be manipulated.”

“Me? manipulate you?” Y/n asked. “You’re the one who manipulated me into adopting a cat.”

“Footy,” Kyra said seriously. “Call him by his name, please, it’s the first time he’ll be away from me.” Kyra took Footy, who was sleeping on the bed and kissed him on the head. “He’s gonna need your support, my poor little–”

“Ouch!” Footy scratched Kyra’s face and jumped off her arms, getting out of the room. 

“Little traitor,” Kyra muttered, narrowing her eyes. “I was going to bring him back some American cat food, but now? No chance.”

“American cat food?” Y/n snorted. “What, hamburger-flavored, Coca-cola?”

Kyra shook her head.

“No, it’s, like… tuna-flavored. Very epicure. Gourmet even.”

“Gourmet my ass. That’s just fancy sardines, babe”

“I was gonna bring him back a souvenir, but fine.” Kyra pouted. “Maybe I'll save it for some Australian cat with actual manners.”

“Meow.”

“I won't accept your apologise, Footy, you w–”

“Please, stop talking to the cat and pack your stuff.”

Kyra didn't want to pack, not now, not later.

“You completely ignored how my face is all bruised, though ” Kyra pointed at a very small scratch on her cheek, trying to save some time.

“Oh my god baby! How will you ever survive!” Y/n gasped, mock horror in her voice as she grabbed as she grabbed some wipes from the bathroom. “They’ll have to bench you for sure.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re so funny.”

Y/n sat on the bed by Kyra’s side, wipes in hand.

“And you are dramatic, very dramatic,” Y/n said, carefully holding Kyra’s jaw as she cleaned the small droplets of blood from her scratch. “There, all done.”

“Kiss it better,” Kyra demanded.

Y/n rolled her eyes but gave in, kissing Kyra’s cheeks.

“My lips hurt too,” Kyra said.

Y/n smiled against Kyra’s face and slowly found her lips, kissing her slowly.

“Do you know what else hurts?” Kyra whispered

“What?” Y/n asked, gently sucking Kyra's lower lips

“Guess,” 

Y/n smiled mischievously at Kyra, their mouths meeting again. Y/n's hands were under Kyra's shirt, touching the soft skin of her stomach.

“Steph and Caitlin won’t be here for, like, five more minutes” Y/n murmured, rolling Kyra’s already-hard nipples between her fingers.

“Then we have plenty of time.” 

Kyra arched her back slightly, giving Y/n even more access to her chest.

Y/n leaned her torso and kissed Kyra's neck. The girl moaned and responded. “More.” 

Y/n obeyed And sucked just under her ear, it was probably going to leave a mark, maybe not a full-on purple hickey, but it would leave the skin slightly reddish.

“People will see it” Kyra whined, eyes closed.

“I want them to see it,” Y/n said, sucking another mark, now on the back of Kyra's neck, more private.

“They’ll tease me,” Kyra whined as Y/n pressed her nipples harder, with more aggression. “Fuck, um, more.”

But then a loud noise filled the room. A honk coming from the Streets.

“Fuck,” Y/n said staying still for A minute before realising that the honk meant Kyra had to get and look decent again.

“Yeah, fuck,” Kyra agreed.

She gently took Y/n's arms in Her hand, making the girl let go of her breasts. “And that's Steph and Caitlin.” 

Kyra sighed, pressing a kiss to Y/n's forehead. “Sorry, they have the worst timing, I swear.”

“It's alright,” Y/n murmured, slightly. “We can finish this when I take the cast off.”

Kyra got up and Y/n watched as Kyra got her suitcase and put on her shoes.

"Did they give you a real date for the cast Removal?” Kyra asked, knowing well that the last time Y/n asked her physiotherapist this question they gave her a very vague response.

“No, same answer,” Y/n said. “Maybe in three weeks, but we aren't sure, Y/n, is up to your bone” Y/n made quotation marks and a very bad imitation of the physiotherapist's voice.

Kyra giggled while putting a cap on the mirror “Don't give the woman a hard time, c’mon.”

“She's the one denying me freedom!”

Kyra opened the wardrobe and picked A hoodie, a yellow one with small flowers on it.

“That's so cute, I'm gonna take it!” Kyra said happily. 

“No, you're not!” Y/n said, furrowing her eyebrows. “That's mine.”

“So?” Kyra asked deadpan. “I need something warm to wear on the flight.”

Y/n pointed at the right side of the wardrobe. Kyra's side. “Pick something of your own.”

“But I don't have anything yellow.” she pouted.

“I'll buy You something yellow when you get back.”

“But I want something yellow to take on the Plane,” Kyra argued back. 

“No, put it back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like sharing!”

“That's not very nice of you,” Kyra said. “I'm so good to you,  we share each other's clothes, you know, it's cute.”

”it's not fair that you’re already leaving me here for two whole weeks,” Y/n argued. “Now you want to leave me here AND steal my clothes?”

“Any clothes? Baby I want to take one hoodie,”

“Yep but–”

Another honk. Caitlin and Steph were getting impatient. And with a reason.

“Okay whatever,” Y/n said. “Take the hoodie, but don't lose it, ok?”

Kyra smiled and held the hoodie closer. “Thank you!”

Kyra put the hoodie on and Y/n had to say it. It looked way better on Kyra than it did on her, but she wasn’t going to say that. 

Suddenly, it hit Y/n. Kyra was really leaving–14 whole days–to another continent.

“I’ll miss you,” Y/n confessed, watching Kyra. 

She looked extra cute wearing the hoodie, maybe You would put it in her part of the wardrobe when Kyra gets back. A subtle message of, it's yours if you want. 

Damn, she was down bad.

“I’ll miss you too,” Kyra said softly, bending down and kissing Y/n. “A lot.”

It was the first time Kyra was going to leave You alone��full-time. She was trying not to make a fuss about it, to act cool and collected so Y/n wouldn't get upset or angry.

Kyra was well aware that Y/n could take care of herself. She learned to take a bath all by herself during the last few days; Y/n and Kyra meal prepped for the last two weeks so Y/n wouldn't have to cook--they had a whole fight about it, but Kyra won–.

Overall, they had everything organized so that Y/n’s routine wouldn't change a lot for those two weeks. Beth and Lotto, who had small injuries and didn't make it to the squad, were excited when Kyra asked if they could keep an eye on Y/n--of course she didn't tell Y/n that.

Beth even said she could drive Y/n to the physiotherapy. 

Kyra wasn't worried about Y/n. She just…didn't want her to bite more than she could chew. God forbid she tried to take a walk without her crutches or something like that.

Kyra's nervousness was more about herself than Y/n. She didn't want to come back and find out Y/n broke her other leg trying to move furniture around.

“I’ll call every night, alright?” Kyra promised. “We'll figure out the time difference– it’s only five hours, way easier than when I was in Australia.”

“Yep, we can do video calls too,” Y/n nodded. “But I guess Steph won't like trying to go to bed while you talk to me.”

“She won't mind,” Kyra said, “I have to put up with her and her ex-finaceé during the matildas camp, trust me I've been to war.”

“Does Steph even know we're together?” Y/n asked. Kyra and she had been living in their bubble that they forgot not all their teammates knew about it.

“Oh, Beth probably told her already,” Kyra said, bringing her finger to her mouth and biting her nails “But I'll see if Steph mentions anything… It would be okay, right? If she and the others knew.”

“Yeah, baby, of course,” Y/n said, holding Kyra's wrists and taking it off her mouth. “Don't do that, it'll hurt your fingers.”

Kyra always bit her nails when she is anxious. She did it so much that sometimes it would bleed.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Okay, if she doesn't know I'll tell her. I'm sure the news will make it to the Matilda group chat in a minute.”

“I think you need to pray so a picture of us does not end up on the matildas Instagram, baby.” Y/n teased.

“Oh shut up,” Kyra clicked her tongue. “That won't happen…right?”

Y/n just shrugged. “I don't know, you're pretty much everyone's little pest, I'm sure the media team would have a blast.”

“Oh I so much hope Beth didn't tell Steph,” Kyra said.

Another honk filled the room.

Oh yeah. Steph and Caitlin.

“I'm like the worst person to give a ride to,” Kyra mumbled. “Steph will never pick me up again.”

Kyra got her suitcase and helped Y/n downstairs. 

Footy, sensing the urgency around, came running down the stairs.

“Oh, I want you to do proof of life with Footy all the time,” Kyra said, looking at the cat running. “Wanna make sure my son is alive and well.”

“I won’t kill the cat, c’mon,” Y/n said. “I’ll keep it fed, happy and clean for when you get back.

“Oh baby when I get back Footy will be the last thing on my mind,” Kyra said mischievously. “But keep him alive, nonetheless, I like him.”

They reached the front door, Footy watching them from the sofa.

“Guess I’ll go then,” Kyra said, smiling sadly.

“You have a safe trip, ok?” Y/n kissed Kyra. “Tell me when you get to the airport and when you land.”

“Ok, ma’am,” Kyra said. “Bye, see you in two weeks, okay?

“Okay,” Y/n said awkwardly, changing her weight between her feet and watching as Kyra put her hand on the doorknob. 

Was this the time? Y/n wasn't sure if there was a good time to say something like that. She never got to the point. Kyra was leaving, foot already out the door. Maybe she should say it.

Yeah, she would say it.

“Hmm–I love… you?” Y/n blurted out, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying not to see Kyra’s reaction. Her ears burned. This was it. She was going to die. Death by embarrassment.

Some people died of a broken heart. Y/n died of saying I love you.

Kyra stopped with her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned, a smirk on her face. “What?”

“what what?” Y/n said, did she not understand? Y/n wasn't going to say it again anytime soon, it was too embarrassing… and now she was nervous and sweating, great.

She had never told that–romantically– to anyone. It felt weird, although it was true. She wasn't expecting Kyra to day it back, although she wished she would.

“You love me?” Kyra asked, eyebrows raised. “But it took you five business days just to let me borrow a hoodie?”

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out, so she just shyly nodded.

In a swift movement, Kyra was hugging her and kissing her face. 

Y/n looked cute just standing there not knowing what to say. She was clueless when it came to talking about feelings. 

Cute.

“I.” Kiss. 

“Love.” Kiss. 

“You.” Kiss

Kyra kissed Y/n in between every word, a grin on her face. “A lot, yeah?”

“Yeah? Okay. That’s good, um, that we’re both in a… relationship? And– we both like—love each other,” Y/n said, playing with her fingers nervously. “I mean—”

Steph honked again.

Now the honk saved Y/n from further embarrassing herself.

“Okay, now I really need to go or else Steph will leave me,” Kyra said

“Off you go, baby.”

They shared a last kiss before Kyra was out the door.

As Kyra walked to the car, she glanced back one last time, shaking her head with a ridiculous grin.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but the second the door shut behind her, she let herself smile too.

..

The first day alone wasn’t as easy as Y/n thought it would be. She and Kyra had organised everything so Y/n wouldn't struggle with day-to-day activities, but as long as she had the cast on, she still needed  Kyra’s help. 

That became even more obvious when she tried to cook.

They had meal-prepped in advance, and the freezer was full of ready-to-eat lunches and dinners, but Y/n wanted to cook something herself:  cream coconut beef and pumpkin curry.

But in the middle of cooking, she dropped the coconut she was going to use for the cream, and since she couldn't bend down to pick it up, she had to change the recipe: beef and pumpkin curry.

And yeah, she did kick the coconut out of frustration. Which meant Kyra would have to crawl under the counter to retrieve it when she got back.

Then, as she started cooking the curry, she realised she had run out of curry powder. And she couldn't exactly drive to the store.

In the end, her dinner was beef and pumpkin. It was a little plain but still good.

As Y/n sat at the table, her phone buzzed with a message from Kyra, saying they had arrived safely in the U.S. and that she was going straight to bed as soon as they got to the hotel.

It was 8 p.m. in London, which meant it was 3 p.m. for Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph. They were probably jet-lagged, but if you played for the Matildas, dealing with jet lag was practically a requirement.

Still, Y/n hoped Kyra would get a full night’s sleep so she could adjust quickly—otherwise, Steph and Caitlin would have to deal with a very grumpy Kyra.

Later that night, Y/n stretched out on the couch—her new setup, since she couldn’t go upstairs without Kyra’s help. Footy was sprawled on her stomach, purring softly.

She took a picture and sent it to Kyra.

"Proof of life 🙄."

Kyra would probably only reply in the morning.

Y/n flipped through the TV channels, but nothing caught her attention—until a notification popped up on her phone.

Leah: Hi.

Y/n: hi

Leah: How are you?

Y/n: good, you?

Leah: Fine. Just landed in Portugal.

Y/n: cool

Leah: yeah. Facetime me if you want to talk. Bye. Y/n: you too, bye

That was Leah’s way of saying “I love you, I’m here if you need me.” And that was Y/n’s way of saying “Thank you. Hope you have a good camp.”

On the second day without Kyra, Y/n went over to Mrs. Petunia’s house for a tea party in the old lady’s garden. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and despite her injury, Y/n didn’t struggle as much as she had expected to cross the street. Though, of course, Mrs Petunia did offer to let her use her wheelchair, which Y/n declined with a polite smile.

“Isn’t football too brute of a sport, sweetheart?” Mrs Petunia asked, taking a bite of her cookie. “In my time, we ladies weren’t allowed to do anything too rough. A shame.”

“It’s a bit physical sometimes,” Y/n admitted, sipping her chamomile tea. “I’m a defender, so my position is part of why football can get rough, but it’s not as bad as people think.”

“You say it’s not that bad, yet you broke a whole bone, silly girl.” Mrs. Petunia chuckled.

Y/n paused mid-sip, looking down at her arm. She had completely forgotten about the cast during their conversation. That was the first time that had happened.

“Oh, yeah—this was just bad luck,” Y/n said, tapping her cast. “The other player, Bright, stepped on my leg while trying to win the ball, and I landed awkwardly.”

“Bright as Millie Bright?” Petunias asked. “She plays for England, right? She’s a tigress.”

“Hm—technically a Lioness, yeah. She’s part of England’s main squad. She’s playing for them right now, actually, with some of my friends.”

“Oh, and your friends are…” Mrs. Petunia tapped a finger against her temple as if trying to remember. “Beth, Leah…Alessia, and Kyra, right? They play on your team.”

It was adorable that Mrs. Petunia remembered their previous conversations.

“Almost! Yeah, we all play together—except for Bright. But Beth is injured, so she’s not playing for the Lionesses. She’s coming over later to take me to physio. And Kyra is Australian, so she’s not with the other girls. She’s in the U.S. right now, while Leah and Less are in Portugal.”

Do you miss her? That girl, Kyra?” Petunia asked, taking another cookie.

Y/n hesitated. Of course, she missed Kyra. A lot.

She had thought the time apart would be good for her, and make her feel more independent. But maybe—just maybe—it felt nice to be taken care of. Y/n had never let herself have that before. She had always assumed she didn’t need it, that she could handle everything on her own. And yeah, she could.

But there was something… comforting about being vulnerable with someone she loved.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted, staring into her teacup. “It’s weird having the house be so quiet. Kyra’s always talking, always playing music. And now it’s just… silent.”

“Oh, I know that feeling,” Mrs. Petunia said, a nostalgic smile on her face. “My house used to be loud too. I had a very dear friend who lived with me—she was a pianist. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to her playing.”

“Oh… I don’t think I ever saw your friend,” Y/n said, frowning as she tried to recall.

“You wouldn’t have, sweetheart.” Petunia’s smile softened. “She passed away ten years ago, my lovely Edith. But it was peaceful. No pain.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Petunia seemed sad, but also… happy. As if talking about Edith was a warm memory, not just a painful one.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Y/n said softly, placing a hand over Petunia’s. “I wish I had met her.”

“It’s alright. It’s the cycle of life,” Petunia said, squeezing Y/n’s hand. “Just promise me you’ll hold your girl extra tight when she gets back.”

Y/n smiled. “I will. I sure will.”

“Now, let me tell you about Edith,” Petunia said, eyes twinkling. “We met at a concert, and…”

 ..

Beth came to pick her up and take her to physio a few hours later.

Y/n was already waiting by the door when Beth parked the car. To her surprise, there was someone in the passenger seat.

“Lotte!” Y/n cheered, putting her crutches to the side and buckling up. “How are you, babe? Are you feeling better?”

She had been texting Lotte over the past few days, checking in on her injury.

Both Lotte and Beth were out of the Lionesses squad for this call-up due to injuries. Beth’s was minor, and she would be back as soon as the international break was over.

Lotte, on the other hand, was a different story.

“They still aren’t sure about the diagnosis,” Lotte said. “But I’m sure they’ll figure it out soon. In the meantime, at least we get to do physio together.”

“You’re gonna be better soon. We all will,” Beth said as she started the car, a random song playing on the radio.

Lotte had a smile on her face—she always did. She was the kind of person people wished they could be friends with, or even have as a sibling. She was positive, even when things weren’t looking great.

Y/n had handled her injury in a much worse way than Lotte, and she didn’t even have a diagnosis yet. The physiotherapists and orthopedists still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her knee.

“Yeah, I’m sure everything will work out just fine,” Y/n said, rubbing Lotte’s arm supportively.

Physio with Lotte was way better than doing it alone. Beth sat in one of the chairs talking endlessly as Lotte and Y/n just laughed at one of her stories. It was good to be surrounded by friends, especially ones who were in the same position as Y/n.

Of course, she didn’t wish any injury on any of the girls, and she wasn't happy that they had gotten hurt, but she did feel less lonely this time around.

Kyra, Leah and Less were great, supporting her in their own, unique way, but it still didn’t have the same weight as talking with someone who was struggling with the same problems as you.

“I get scared sometimes,” Lotte confessed out of the blue.

The three girls were sitting on one of the benches by the pitch of the Arsenal training grounds after their therapy sessions. 

The air was cold and the Center was empty, but the smell of grass was comforting, the coffee they held in their hand was the only source of warmth.

“Oh what, Lotte?” Beth asked, wrapping an arm around Lotte’s shoulder.

“That I’ll heal and then get injured again.”

Y/n nodded empathetically. She felt the same.

Her mind was a constant storm. At the same time, she wanted to take the cast off quickly and move on with her life, she also wanted to keep it longer–scared that her bone wouldn't have healed properly. Scared that her bone would never heal.

Scared that the doctor would take it off only to find the bones in the same position as they were months ago when Millie had stepped on it. The truth was, no one could tell how good she was healing if she still had the cast on, sometimes she wished she didn’t have to take it off because…what if it wasn’t healed? Then what?

It wasn’t a very rational feeling of course. Y/n couldn't think of any case of it happening in football–but she could always be the first.

“I’m scared that I’m too old for football,” Beth sighed. “And that’ll come back from this injury just to be benched till my contract is over.”

Lotte and Beth looked at Y/n with expectation on their faces.

“What?” she said, taking a sip of her coffee, and burning her tongue.

“It’s your time,” Beth said, rolling her eyes and waving her hands dismissively. “Go on, share sometimes you’re scared.”

“I don’t wanna share anything.” Y/n leaned further from them. “This is no–hm– an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.”

“No, this is an injuries-athlete-who-are-out-of-their-squad meeting,” Beth clicked her tongue. “Spill it.”

“Fine,” Y/n groaned. “I’m scared that I won’t ever get back to the pitch and that I didn’t get to enjoy my last time on it.”

Lotte made a sad, empathetic face to Y/n, placing a hand on her tight. “Oh sweet–” 

Y/n shook her head and put Lotte’s hand away from her  “No comforting, no pity, we just shared, we don’t talk about it.”

Lotte and Beth stared at her, then stared at each other before shrugging.

“You really are emotionally unavailable, huh?” Lotte said, smiling teasingly. “I never noticed it before, but Beth was right about it.”

“She’s only available to Kyra,” Beth grinned, nudging Y/n. “How’s it going being away from her? I’ve been dying without Viv.”

“Uhm–it’s been ok-ish,” Y/n said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Okay-ish?” Beth repeated, eyebrows rising. “Don’t you miss her?”

“Of course I miss her!” Y/n said defensively. “I just don’t like talking about it–It makes me feel, ugh,” she fumbled over her words, a mix of emotions on her chest. “I just feel…”

“Sad?” Lotted suggested, giving her a wide smile.

Y/n looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, she–Kyra puts socks on my feet when I get cold, she reminds me to take my meds,” Y/n said. “She paints my nails when I get too frustrated because I want to do it without making a mess, she’s very good to me.”

“I just feel—ugh." Y/n trailed off, staring at the ground.

Beth raised an eyebrow. "You feel what?"

"I feel…this is stupid." Y/n sighed, staring down at her coffee, and swirling the liquid inside. "Fine. I miss her, okay? I miss Ky."

Y/n felt proud, and a little bit embarrassed.

She was able to tell somebody else how much Kyra meant to her and she did it well. She used words and everything…Leah would never.

Y/n was pulled from her thoughts when Beth nudged her with her elbow.

“You made Lotte cry,” Beth said as she consoled Lotte. “I bet it was the first time you made someone cry out of something other than sadness, huh?”

“Hm…What? Lotte, what happened?” Y/n asked, completely ignoring Beth’s accusation of her being an insensitive monster to other people.

“You guys are just so cute,” Lotte cried. “I just love love.”

“Oh,” Y/n said, not sure of what to say. “Hm–well, thank you and I’m—sorry?” 

“You can leave the comforting to me, kiddo,” Beth said. "You just sit there and keep pretending you're not soft."

Y/n mouthed a thank you to Beth and continued to drink her coffee awkwardly as Beth let Lotte cry on her shoulder.

..

“You did what!?” Y/n asked, mouth agape as she stared at the screen on her phone.

“It wasn’t a fire, it was just the fire alarm,” Kyra said, her face filling the whole screen with how close she was. “I don’t even understand why–”

“Yes, you do!” Y/n heard a voice say, seconds later all she could see was Steph’s face. “They explained to us exactly what happened!”

“Hi! So Kyra here,” Steph turned the phone to Kyra, who was sitting on a very messy bed, she had a pout on her face, arms crossed. “Took a very hot shower, it was so hot inside the bathroom that I activated the fire alarm.”

“They aren’t a hundred per cent sure about it, Steph! It could have come from any other room.’ Kyra whined and stretched her hand. “Now give me the phone, let me talk to her.”

“No,” Steph said. “So, Y/n how have you been? Oh and I just want to let you know I’m so happy you and Kyra are dating, I was so shocked when she told me I absolutely did not know–”

“Beth told you, right?” Y/n asked deadpan.

“Yes.”

“Don’t mess with Kya too much,” Y/n asked. “You can tease me all you want when you get back, but let her live.”

Y/n knew how much the matildas could be annoying and extremely teasing with each other, especially to Kyra, maybe it was an Australian thing?

“Aww look at you trying to protect her from us,” Steph said smiling. “So cute, you two!”

Suddenly the scream moved and Y/n was face to face, or better, face to screen, with Caitlin.

“Girl! Hi,” She said, waving. “Steph didn't want to pass me the phone so I had to take it from her,” Caitlin explained as it wasn’t a big deal. “But it’s whatever, tell me how have you been?”

“I’m alright, really,” Y/n said, fixing the earbud on her ear. “Beth picks Lotte and me up for physio every day, and we get coffee and something sweet after. It’s nice.”

“Oh you guys should totally go to that one café near Arsenal,” Caitlin said. “The one with the–”

“Give. Me. The. Phone.”

Y/n thought it was Kyra who said that, but the audio was very unclear.

“Learn how to share!” 

Caitlin had probably put the phone down, because Y/n was staring at, what she thought to be the ceiling.

“You did that last time I talked to Katie! I’m just doing the same to you.”

Y/n was confused, the sound was bad, she couldn’t see anything, and the voices in the background were getting mixed. Was that Caitlin? Or Steph? Well, Y/n thought she heard the name ‘Katie’ so it was probably…

“So? Aren't you too old to wish revenge over a young couple?”

“Hmm, hi?” Y/n said, as the screen was white, she couldn't understand anything now.

No one answered her

“Don’t call Cait old, you pest, we are the same age! Think of another insult.” 

They continued with their bickering. 

When Y/n thought of hanging up she saw a pillow flying through the screen and then…a foot? The screen was shaking, very abruptly now as if someone had grabbed ahold of the phone and started to shake it violently.

Y/n was dizzy.

She was never Facetime Kyra ever again. 

Maybe she could send letters like they were a hundred years old. She could ask Mrs Petunia for some stamps…

“Hi, sorry about that,” Kyra’s face appeared on the screen again, a sweet smile on her face. 

Y/n heard a sound that looked like a door being locked.

“Have you locked yourself in the bathroom? Y/n asked.

“It was the only choice I had,” Kyra said.

“Fair enough,” Y/n nodded. “So what news do you have for me?”

“Caitlin said she was going to hack my phone and find a picture of us and sell it to the admin of Matilda's Instagram,” Kyra said. “She’s just a joy to be around.”

“Don't worry, don’t you remember what we know about her, Katie and the changing room?” Y/n said, wiggling her eyebrows. “That’s more shocking than a picture of us, if she tried anything, we are ready.”

Y/n felt like she and Kyra were partners in crime.

“Oh god, I forgot that!” Kyra laughed. “I'm so going to tease her tomorrow at breakfast”

“Tomorrow? Why not now?” Y/na asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I want the whole team to be present.” Kyra grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You’re evil,” Y/n teased

“You like it,” Kyra shot back.

“Yes, I do.

“How 's my son?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects with a sudden shift in tone.

Y/n rolled her eyes, changing the camera to focus on Footy, who was playing with his toy rat on the living room rug. The cat would take the toy in his mouth just to drop it mid-air and pick it up again.

“Look at him!” Kyra said, putting her face even closer to the screen as if she could get closer to the cat that way. “Evolving his hunting abilities!”

“This is his second rat of the day. The first one got stuck under the TV stand,” Y/n explained. “Neither of us could get it out, so that’s officially your job when you get back. Oh, and—also—you might need to grab a coconut from under the kitchen cabinet too.”

“A coconut?” Kyra’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell are you doing in my absence?”

“I was… experimenting.” Y/n tried to sound convincing.

“Experimenting? With a coconut?”

“It was for a recipe, don’t make it weird!” Y/n defended herself. “I was trying to cook and–”

“Trying to cook?” Kyra whined and out of hand dramatically on her face. “Come on, I didn't spend two whole days stuck in a kitchen meal prepping for you to go and try to cook alone.”

Y/n winced. She shouldn't have mentioned the coconut or the cooking. Was this the part where she said sike and moved on without receiving an earful?

“Ky, it was just that one time! I wanted to eat something different,” Y/n defended herself. “Lotte gave me one of the yummiest recipes on the planet, and I had to try it—or else I would die.”

“And you have the guts to say I’m the dramatic one, huh?” Kyra said, her voice deadpan. 

“Do you promise it was only one time? Kyra continued, worry on her face.”You know you can get easily hurt in the kitchen, it’s too much time standing on just your crutches.”

“Yes, it was only this one, darling.” Y/n lied, trying to ‘darling’ to soften Kyra up a bit. 

It didn’t work.

“You swear over Footyt?” Kyra asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Over our own child?”

Y/n opened her mouth to answer, but then Footy stopped playing with his mouse and just stared at her with his big, green eyes.

“I–hm,” Y/n mumbled. Come on this was ridiculous. He was just a cat and–

“Do you swear or not?”

Oh, fuck it.

“I’m sorry, okay,” Y/n finally admitted. “I did like, twice or…three times, but it was fine, I didn’t get hurt or anything.”

“But you could’ve!”

“Kyra, come on, we’ve barely talked all day. Don’t turn this into a lecture, please,” Y/n pleaded, even pulling out a pout.

Yeah, a pout. She wasn’t a pouty person, this was Kyra, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyra was silent for a moment, her face slightly softening.

“Ugh, fine,” Kyra said, not sounding fine at all. “Just take care, okay? I don’t want to come back to you on another cast.”

“Yep, you don’t have to worry about it,” Y/n said. “I’m doing good by myself. Plus, If I need anything Beth, Lotto and Mrs Petunia are here for me.

“But tell me about your day,” Y/n asked, her enthusiasm returning. She was desperate to change the subject, but also wanted to hear about Kyra’s day; they hadn’t had a proper conversation since she left. “How’s Houston?”

Kyra propped the phone up against the sink so she didn’t have to hold it anymore, and now her whole torso was visible on the screen. She was wearing Y/n’s hoodie, the one she had ‘borrowed’. It looks pretty on her, maybe Y/n should let her wear her clothes more often.

“It’s very hot– but not as hot as Australia,” Kyra said, her voice muffled slightly but the toothbrush she just put on her mouth. “But it's pretty, we should make a trip here sometime, without football and all that.”

Kyra casually dropping a trip to another country made her feel all warm inside. They were really in a relationship. They lived together, had a cat, and were making plans that involved each other.

It was great, really great.

“We should definitely do that next time we have a break,” Y/n agreed. “We could go to Australia too, and–you could go to… hmm, my country, if you want to, of course.”

“I would love to go to your home country,” Kyra smiled at her, mouth filled with toothpaste. 

“Good, that's great!” Y/n blushed. “You’ll love the…culture and food, and–maybe my parents, if you want to meet them but you absolutely don’t have to! I totally understand and–”

“You’re cute when you are nervous,” Kyra teased, noticing how flustered Y/n was, and just as she said it, a click came through the screen.

“You better not have screenshotted me,” Y/n warmed, her voice suddenly serious. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Sorry!” Kyra said with an innocent smile. “But don’t worry, I won’t let Caitlin see it. Your vulnerable moments are safe with me,” she teased.

“Actually, I’m uninviting you to meet my parents,” Y/n said

“Oh come on,” Kyra whined. “But I’m dying to meet the woman who raised you like…that.” She placed her hands over her chest. “I need to know what made you the way you are.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “Raised me like what?”

“In such a…peculiar way! I mean, look at you, all cute and grumpy and antisocial. Kyra leaned in closer to the screen, looking more dramatic “There must be some secret family recipe or ancient tradition behind that. I want to know your roots, Y/n!” 

“Alright, enough, I’m done,” Y/n said with a smirk, clearly done with the conversation. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Don’t hang up, come on!”

“Bye! Love you.” Y/n clicked the red button before Kyra could reply, but she was sure Kyra heard the last sentence because Y/n saw the goofy grin on her face.

Idiots in love. That’s what they were.

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: Sorry, this chapter was more like a filler!! I have so much fun with this universe that I just want to write very domestic scenes without a lot of drama in it etc but I hope you guys like it!!

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[ilovethanosdick]

Mohawk Mark x fem! reader (part two) slightly NSFW

part one

a/n: ughhh, it took me so long…. i decided to split this part in two, so y’all have to wait a bit for part three (sorry💔)

You lowered your flames, panting from the intensity of the fight. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood face-to-face with him, waiting to see what he'd do next. Then, before you could even think it through — you kissed him.

You didn’t know why you did it. You hated him. You wanted to hate him. After him being such a jerk, you should’ve been focused on knocking him out cold. But somehow, your body had different plans. Before you could stop yourself, you were crashing your lips against his, rough and desperate.

Mohawk Mark's eyes widened in shock. For a second, he froze — caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. But then, to your surprise, he kissed you back. His tongue pushing between your lips, seeking entrance. His grip on you loosened slightly as he leaned in, responding with just as much fire.

After a while, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his expression twisted in frustration and something else he couldn’t quite place.

"What... the hell was that?" he rasped, his voice low and rough.

"Just shut your fucking mouth already." you spit out, then continue claiming his lips with raw intensity.

Mohawk Mark let out a startled grunt, his fingers dug into your hips, his breath hitching as you pressed closer.

"Uh... what the hell is happening?" Mainstream Mark's voice broke through, sounding completely bewildered.

Robot stood beside him, tilting his head slightly, observing the scene with calculated detachment.

"I believe this is... not our concern," Robot stated flatly.

"Not our—?!" Mainstream Mark's voice jumped an octave. "Are you seriously suggesting we just leave her with—" He gestured wildly in your direction. "—him?!"

"Yes," Robot interrupted, turning on his heel without hesitation. "This is clearly... personal. Continuing to interfere would be inefficient."

"But—!" Mainstream Mark tried to protest, his gaze flicking between you and Mohawk Mark.

"Let’s go," Robot repeated firmly, already walking away.

You felt yourself losing your breath. You made an attempt to separate his lips from yours, but Mark was persistently, still at an aggressive pace, making out with you.

You tried to push him, somehow hit him, but it apparently only turned him on more. He grabbed your wrists, pinning you against the wall. Your arms slammed against the cold surface with a dull thud.

Realizing you had no chance of escaping, you bit his lower lip so hard that it started to bleed. Only then did he finally pull away.

Mark hissed as he felt the sting. “Fucking bitch.” He laughed in amusement, then licked the blood that ran down his chin.

He let go of your wrists. But you weren't free for long. With incredible speed, he grabbed you by the neck.

“How do I unzip this?” his other hand traveled up your thighs to your hips, searching for something like a clasp or zipper on your costume.

Your hands desperately tugged at his hand around your neck to get out of his grip. You tried to heat up your neck, your whole body, but the fight to stay conscious was limiting your powers and you couldn't use them properly.

Mark easily overpowered you, after all he’s In- [title card]. Anyway, he seemed like he doesn’t give a shit about some burns right now.

“Ah, fuck it” without hesitation, he tore open the lower half of your suit with a pleased grin.

A sudden breeze brushed against your thighs, causing you to shiver as you gasped desperately for air.

He pushed your panties to the side, slightly brushing his fingers against your folds in the process. Leaving them covered in your juices.

Despite almost being choked to death, the short contact was enough to made u desperate for more. Already missing him between your legs.

He looked at you with mock disbelief. “This kind of shit excites you?” he snickered, leaving u embarrassed by his blunt statement.

He shoved his middle and index finger into ur mouth, making you taste your arousal. The suddenness of it, made u gag.

His action was enough to bring you to your senses. You sank your teeth into his fingers. There was a sickening crack beneath your bite.

Stepping back, he finally let go of you. “The hell?” he looked down at his broken fingers, not expecting such a move from you. The way you were making it difficult, amused him.

You rubbed your neck, trying to steady your breathing, which felt heavy and strained after the suffocating grip. The familiar weight of tension was finally starting to lift.

Taking a deep breath, you seized the moment, pushing Mark down, pinning him against the ground with newfound confidence. His body tensed beneath you in surprise, but he didn’t resist.

“Finally keeping up with me, huh?” he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

tags: @rainbowdashlver6969 @sweetb3rry @red22wolf

[rainydayathogwarts]

Off limits pt.3 - remus lupin

summary: when sirius sees you kissing his best friend, he decides to have his first real conversation with you in two years, and you finally reveal what life has been like for you and regulus after he left. wc: 1.1k+ pt.1 \\ pt.2

No matter how much you increased your pace, the volume of Sirius’s footsteps never subsided, hinting that your brother was right on your tail. A harsh call of your name had you wincing, finally stopping in your tracks. There was no pretending you hadn’t heard his angry call of your name. Spinning around with an unimpressed expression on your face, you crossed your arms over your chest as Sirius continued stepping towards you, even when you deemed him too close. His hand wrapped around your bicep, and he tugged you along with him to a dark, secluded area, underneath a spiralling staircase.

Now you were scared.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a tall, scar-faced boy round the corner into the corridor, following you and Sirius. Sirius let go of your bicep with a push that had you stumbling back a couple of steps, feeling your back grazing the wall behind you.

“I fucking understand if you want to fuck with me, or make my life miserable, but keep my friends out of it!” You scoffed at Sirius’s words, nodding slowly at him. “Of course you think it’s all about you. Sirius, I don’t. Fucking. Care. About you.” Your brother laughed loudly, gesturing to the invisible audience, and the one boy he didn’t know was listening from behind the staircase. “You don’t fucking care about me. Then why the fuck are you playing around with Remus’s feelings?”

“I’m not playing with Remus’s feelings! I like him! I fucking like him so much, you dumbass!” Sirius took a step back at your sudden outburst, watching with wide eyes as a shiny layer of fresh tears appeared over your eyes. “You’re the reason I haven’t made a move on him sooner! Because I know you hate me! I know you don’t want me near you or your friends!” You inhaled deeply, ignoring the angry tears that silently rolled down your cheeks, wiping them off your face aggressively.

“You-you actually like him?” Sirius spoke in almost a whisper, guilt immediately painting his features. You nodded wordlessly. “I know you want nothing to do with me and Regulus. We’ve known that since you left us. But fuck Sirius, we don’t hate you for it. We hate you for the way you treat us. As though we agree with mum and dad. As though we’ve shown you that we’ve hated you all our lives. Your bullshit behaviour towards us has all been under some delusion that we are happy you’re gone.”

Sirius was silent, spluttering as he took in your words. You’d spoken as though you had a confession, afraid to tell him he was being delusional before. Suddenly, Sirius felt bad. For how he yelled at you now, for how he’s treated you and Regulus for the past two years. He was supposed to be your big brother, your protector. He’d been everything but that.

“Regulus and I aren’t brave like you Sirius. But we also aren’t as treacherous. I would never leave Regulus on his own, even if that meant sacrificing what was left of our relationship. But just because we don’t have a relationship now, doesn’t mean I cannot be involved with people you know. Remus likes me and I like him. And I’m going to go out with him whether you like it or not. If you’re so insecure about your friendship with him, maybe you should speak to him, not me.”

Remus rubbed his eyes from where he hid behind the staircase, not expecting for this confrontation to get so emotional. He dragged his feet over to where you and Sirius stood underneath the staircase, crossing both his arms over his chest. “Oh my god.” You gasped, turning away from Remus to wipe away at your wet cheeks. You glanced at your reflection in the glass window, wiping smudged mascara away from underneath your lower lashes.

You turned back around to find your brother and his best friend stood in the exact same position, neither of them moving, just staring at each other. “We’ve been sitting next to each other in potions all year. That’s how - no one went behind your back, Sirius.” Remus finally spoke, a disappointed look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I only asked about a hundred times!” You gulped as the volume of Sirius’s voice increased again, betrayal evident in his voice.

Remus scoffed in amusement, gesturing an arm between the two of you. “Sirius, do you remember what you said to me at Hogsmeade? Don’t fall for her tricks, she’s just trying to get to me! Why would I tell you, when the entire time you were so convinced she was doing it for you?”

Sirius immediately seemed sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “I seem to have misjudged the situation.” He admitted, looking between you and Remus, but you weren’t looking at him. Why was it so easy for him to admit his mistake to Remus, but he had to be stubborn when it came to you? Sirius called your name, the soft tone of voice sounding alien to you. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realise I hurt you and Regulus so much.”

No response.

He sighed. A part of him was still angry at you, his thoughts clouded by his own defensive judgements. But you had the right to be mad at him, furious even. He knew he would be too. Sirius decided he would give you time to deal with your feelings, trying to regain your trust through his actions. But for now? Well, he decided to leave you with someone you actually trusted.

Sirius walked away, letting Remus take a few steps towards you, cupping your cheeks softly. “Hey, look at me.” You followed his instruction, meeting his worried eyes. “Are you okay?” You nodded, sniffling softly as your eyes filled with tears once more. “I wasn’t planning on letting you seeing me cry, like, ever.” You muttered, deciding to opt out of ‘so we’re going to have to get married then’.

He laughed softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “It’s good to start a relationship with trust, isn’t it?” Humming softly, you brought your hands up to grip the bottom of his jumper. Remus leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You sighed in satisfaction, pressing yourself on your tippy toes as your eyes fluttered shut. One of Remus’s arms wrapped around your waist to steady you and you brought a hand to the back of his neck. His lips parted from yours for a short moment to admire at you fondly.

“I don’t want this relationship to involve my brother, please.” You said, voice quiet. Remus chuckled half-heartedly as an uncomfortable image formed in his mind.

“Yeah, I really don’t want this relationship to involve your brother either. You know, I’m expecting us to be the only two people on our dates.”

taglist: @amatoanima @jimeniita @moonyswifee @froggiedragon @ilovesugurugeto69 @lotsostrawberrybear @whoismurphyslaw @navs-bhat @theoraekenslover

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-017

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Ours to Claim

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: who would’ve thought an old friend would have that affect on Paige and Azzi…

Sorry it took so long, @paigeluvvr

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld

I was just about to head into the little café in Storrs when I heard my name called from across the street.

“Y/N? No way!”

I turned to see a familiar face—Josh, an old friend from high school. We hadn’t spoken much since graduation, but he was one of those people who always felt easy to reconnect with.

“Josh?” I grinned, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Business trip,” he said, jogging across the street. “Figured I’d grab some coffee before heading to my next meeting. How have you been?”

We started catching up, talking about old times, laughing about how much had changed since high school. It was nice, lighthearted, and completely innocent.

But the warmth in my chest quickly turned to unease when I caught sight of Paige and Azzi standing at the entrance of the café, staring at us.

Both of their expressions were tight, unreadable to anyone who didn’t know them well. But I did. And I knew that kind of silence meant trouble.

I wrapped up my conversation with Josh, giving him a quick side hug before he left, and turned to my girlfriends.

“Hey,” I said, a little breathless, stepping up to them. “I was just catching up with an old friend. He was in town for—”

“We saw,” Paige cut me off, her voice sharp.

Azzi crossed her arms, gaze cool but jaw clenched. “Looked real cozy.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. “Wait, are you guys serious right now?”

Neither of them responded, just turned and walked into the café. I followed, confused and already irritated.

Lunch was tense. Paige barely touched her food, and Azzi was quieter than usual, both of them simmering in unspoken jealousy.

By the time we got into the car to head back to our apartment, the silence had stretched too thin. I sighed, arms crossed over my chest as I sat in the passenger seat while Paige drove.

“So are we gonna talk about this?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Azzi scoffed from the backseat. “Talk about what? How our girlfriend was giggling with some guy we’ve never even heard of?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, you’re both being dramatic.”

Paige let out a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Dramatic?” she echoed. “We show up for lunch and see you hugging some random guy, looking all happy and touchy, and we’re supposed to just be cool with that?”

“He’s not a ‘random guy,’ he’s an old friend!” I snapped. “I haven’t seen him in years, and we were literally just talking. You two are acting like I was making out with him in the street!”

Azzi leaned forward, her voice lower, but firm. “You weren’t, but the way he was looking at you? He wanted to.”

I scoffed. “And how the hell do you know that?”

“Because we know what it looks like when someone wants you,” Paige said, eyes locked on the road.

I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling under my skin. “Well, too bad for him, because I’m already taken,” I shot back.

Paige pulled into our parking spot, threw the car in park, and turned to me with piercing eyes. “Are you?” she challenged.

I inhaled sharply, heat flashing in my chest. “You know damn well I am.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Then why didn’t you introduce us?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, because I didn’t have a real answer. The truth was, I had gotten caught up in the moment and hadn’t even thought about it.

Paige smirked slightly, but it wasn’t a kind one. “Exactly.”

The moment we stepped into our apartment, I turned to them, ready to argue some more, but Paige was on me in an instant.

She pressed me against the wall, her hands gripping my waist firmly, possessively. My breath hitched, and before I could react, Azzi was right there too, her body caging me in from the other side.

“Wait—”

“Not so fast,” Paige murmured, her lips brushing against my jaw. “You had your fun catching up with him. Now, we remind you who you belong to.”

My heart pounded as Azzi’s fingers traced up my arm, her touch featherlight but intentional.

“You’re ours,” Azzi whispered against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

Their jealousy had shifted into something else—something intense and undeniable.

Paige kissed along my neck, slow but with a purpose, her lips and teeth leaving marks. I gasped, gripping her hoodie, torn between protesting and melting under their attention.

“Look at you,” Azzi mused, tilting my chin so I had to meet her eyes. “Always saying we’re dramatic, but you love when we get like this, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard, my body betraying me as I pressed further into them.

Paige chuckled against my skin. “That’s what I thought.”

Their hands roamed, leaving no part of me untouched. A shiver coursed through me as Azzi’s fingers danced along the hem of my shirt, slowly inching it upwards. Paige’s hands were equally skilled, tracing the curve of my hips, sending sparks of anticipation through every nerve ending.

“We’re going to spoil you tonight,” Azzi whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “Completely and utterly spoil you.”

I didn’t doubt her for a second. There was a hunger in their eyes, a possessiveness that both thrilled and intimidated me. I knew I was walking a dangerous line, surrendering control to their desires, but the temptation was too strong to resist.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Azzi pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it carelessly to the side. The cool air of the room kissed my skin, heightening my awareness of their touch. Paige’s gaze intensified as she took in my exposed torso, her eyes lingering on every curve and contour.

“Beautiful,” she breathed, her voice husky with desire.

Before I could respond, Azzi’s lips were on mine, her kiss deep and demanding. I met her intensity with my own, losing myself in the intoxicating swirl of passion. Paige joined in, her hands tracing the sensitive skin of my back, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.

Their kisses were a symphony of desire, a tantalizing blend of tenderness and dominance. I moaned softly, my body aching for more. They seemed to take pleasure in my reaction, their touch becoming bolder, more insistent.

Azzi broke away from the kiss, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ready for the next step?” she purred, reaching for the bedside drawer.

My heart pounded in my chest as she retrieved a sleek, purple strap-on. I had seen it before, of course, but the sight of it now, in Azzi’s hands, sent a jolt of electricity through me.

Paige gently guided me to the edge of the bed, positioning me so that my legs dangled over the side. I watched, mesmerized, as Azzi expertly strapped the harness around her waist, her movements fluid and confident.

“Relax,” Paige murmured, stroking my hair. “We’re going to take care of you.”

I tried to follow her instructions, but my nerves were on edge. I had never done anything like this before, and the anticipation was almost overwhelming.

Azzi straddled my lap, her eyes locking with mine. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry.

With a slow, teasing motion, Azzi pressed the head of the strap-on against my entrance. I gasped, my body tensing in anticipation.

“Easy,” Paige whispered, her hands gently kneading the muscles in my shoulders. “Just breathe.”

Azzi began to move, slowly at first, testing my limits. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations that were building within me. It was intense, unfamiliar, but undeniably pleasurable.

As Azzi’s pace quickened, I lost myself in the rhythm of her movements. My body arched against hers, craving more. Paige’s hands roamed my body, teasing and tantalizing, driving me closer to the edge.

Just as I thought I couldn’t take anymore, Azzi stopped, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Your turn to worship, baby” she commanded, her voice husky with passion.

I didn’t hesitate. I reached for Azzi, pulling her closer, my lips meeting hers in a searing kiss. Paige moved to stand in front of me, her eyes filled with desire.

I lowered my head, my tongue tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Paige moaned softly, her hands gripping my hair. I continued my exploration, teasing and tantalizing, until she was writhing in my grasp.

With a final, desperate plea, Paige guided me to her most sensitive spot. I licked and sucked, my tongue working its magic, until she was screaming my name.

As Paige’s climax subsided, Azzi took her place. I knelt before her, my eyes locking with hers. She was a vision of raw desire, her body trembling with anticipation.

I lowered my head, my lips brushing against her most sensitive point. Azzi gasped, her hands gripping my head, urging me closer.

I knew what she wanted, and I was more than happy to oblige. I licked and sucked, my tongue dancing over her sensitive flesh, until she was moaning and begging for more.

As Azzi’s climax approached, Paige took over, her fingers expertly teasing and tantalizing, driving her over the edge. Azzi screamed, her body convulsing in pleasure.

When Azzi had recovered, it was her turn to take control. She positioned me on my hands and knees, my back arched, my body exposed. Paige stood beside her, coaching her through every move.

“Easy, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice soft and encouraging. “Just take it slow.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, her eyes filled with uncertainty. But with Paige’s guidance, she found her confidence.

She positioned the strap-on at my entrance, her hands trembling slightly.

With a deep breath, she pushed forward, slowly and deliberately. I gasped, my body tensing in anticipation.

“Relax,” Paige whispered, her hands gently stroking my back. “You’re doing great.”

As Azzi’s pace quickened, I lost myself in the rhythm of her movements. My body arched against hers, craving more. Paige’s hands roamed my body, teasing and tantalizing, driving me closer to the edge.

Just as I thought I couldn’t take anymore, Azzi stopped, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry.“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, her eyes searching mine.

“You’re not hurting me,” I assured her. “I want this.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up with renewed determination. She took a deep breath and began to move again, her pace quickening, her movements becoming more confident.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations that were building within me. It was intense, exhilarating, and undeniably pleasurable.

As Azzi’s climax approached, I felt myself spiraling out of control. My body convulsed, my muscles tensing and releasing in a wave of pure ecstasy.

I screamed, my voice echoing through the room. Azzi continued to move, her own climax building, until she finally collapsed on top of me, her body trembling with exhaustion.

We lay there for a long time, our bodies intertwined, our breath coming in ragged gasps. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a testament to the intensity of our passion.

Finally, Paige stirred, her eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. “That was… incredible,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded in agreement, her head resting on my chest. “Definitely one for the books,” she added, her voice equally soft

The room was quiet now, save for the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing. My body was still buzzing from the intensity of what had just happened—Paige and Azzi’s hands, their mouths, their whispered claims against my skin.

Now, I lay sandwiched between them in our bed, their warmth pressing against me from both sides. My skin still tingled where they had marked me, but the raw tension from earlier had softened into something gentler, something tender.

Paige was tracing slow circles along my side, while Azzi’s fingers were lightly combing through my hair, her touch soothing. I exhaled, my body sinking deeper into the mattress.

For a while, none of us spoke. The jealousy-fueled storm had passed, leaving only the quiet hum of comfort in its wake.

Then, Paige let out a sigh against my shoulder, her lips brushing my skin. “We were assholes,” she murmured.

Azzi hummed in agreement, her fingers still carding through my hair. “Yeah… we were way out of line.”

I blinked, tilting my head slightly to look at them. “So you admit you were being dramatic?” I teased, though my voice was softer now, no real bite behind it.

Paige groaned, burying her face against my neck. “Don’t rub it in, ma.”

Azzi chuckled, but then her voice turned more serious. “For real, though… we shouldn’t have made you feel like that. We trust you—we know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.”

Paige lifted her head, her blue eyes meeting mine. “But that doesn’t excuse how we acted. We let our jealousy get the best of us, and instead of talking about it like normal people, we just…” She trailed off, exhaling. “Yeah, we fucked up.”

I watched them for a moment, taking in the sincerity in their faces. My chest ached—not with anger anymore, but with affection.

“You really did,” I admitted, but my tone was gentle. “You made me feel like I did something wrong when I was just catching up with an old friend.”

Azzi winced. “We know. And we’re sorry, baby.”

Paige nodded, brushing a hand along my jaw. “We love you. So much. And sometimes, that love makes us a little…” She searched for the right word.

Azzi smirked. “Possessive?”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “A little?”

Paige huffed, nudging my nose with hers. “Fine. A lot.”

I sighed, letting some of the last remnants of tension leave my body. “I love you guys too. But next time, just talk to me, okay? Instead of jumping straight into jealousy mode.”

Azzi nodded, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “Promise.”

Paige followed suit, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “Promise.”

For a moment, we just lay there, wrapped up in each other.

Then Paige shifted, pulling the covers up around us. “You good? Need anything?”

Azzi’s fingers traced down my arm. “Water? Snacks? A bath?”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of their care settle deep in my chest. “Honestly? Just wanna stay like this for a while.”

Paige smirked. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

Azzi grinned. “Yeah, we gotta make sure you remember exactly who you belong to, right?”

I rolled my eyes but snuggled deeper between them. “Yeah, yeah… I got the message loud and clear.”

Paige pressed another kiss to my shoulder, and Azzi tucked me closer into her warmth.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[cybrasigilism]

fic request: the votes in season two turn out in favor of o, and players are dropped off. thanos and the reader are dropped off together and you can decide where to go from there 🤔

Sensual Seduction (Thanos/Choi Su-bong/Player 230 X F! Reader ONESHOT)

warning: smut, act shocked ladies and gentlemen | not proofread | lowercase intended | lowkey 🌽 with no plot | dom! thanos | dry humping | public sex | degradation | teasing | PiV | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: stream sensual seduction by snoop dogg PUHLEASE 😫🙏

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the belt, reader’s discretion is advised

you thought you hated thanos. i mean, how could you not have. sure he was quite the sweet talker, and there were a few times you felt slight butterflies when he called you “señorita”— but his overly smug nature overpowered that. the way he and that loser friend of his would always corner weaker players and force them to succumb to voting their way boiled your blood.

you hated how he got away with being a douche to those he didn’t like; you hated how he acted like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread; you hated that he of all people was the person you wound up being stranded with post the “X” vote winning; in short, you hated him.

so that’s why, when you found yourself making out with him— you were beyond shocked.

you can’t deny that you were totally immersed in the kiss, feeling his hands roam your bare skin as he pulled you onto his lap— it was like the two of you forgot just how much he got on your nerves in the entirety of the games.

i mean, how could you not cast those feelings aside as he rolled his hips up into yours, drawing a raspy moan out of you as you felt just how hard he was. you followed his lead, grinding down onto him while he guided your hips with a firm grip. the sounds he was making only made you ache for him more.

“fuck, senorita.. maybe you didn’t hate me that much..” thanos bit his lip, bucking his hips up into you suddenly; a loud whimper pulled from your lips. “oh god, y—ou… you’re so..” “so what?” he echoed, tilting his head back with a groan as your pace grew sloppy. “shit, you’re already falling apart and we haven’t even fucked yet..”

you forgot what it was you were trying to say to him, a potentially witty quip lost to a hot session of dry humping. just then, thanos held your hips to a stop. you whined, trying to move again but he held you down too firmly.

“sorry baby, but don’t you wanna fuck me?” you were so blissed out already, all you could do was nod your head in a somewhat sensical manner. he tapped your hips lightly, signaling you to get off his lap before he began undoing his pants. “alright, i’ll fuck you good then..”

——————————————-

and did he ever hold true to that statement. in mere moments, thanos had your legs over his shoulders while he fucked you senseless. you’d never been so loud having sex with someone before, but then again, no one’s ever fucked you quite like this.

you could tell he was trying to mask his own noises, but every so often a moan or whimper would slip and it drove you up the wall. he definitely took notice, it was hard to miss your pussy squeezing down onto his dick every time you heard him whine for you.

“yeah? d’ you like when i moan for ya’? fuck, you’re such a little slut, squeezing around my cock like that, you know?” his degradation may as well have fallen on deaf ears, you were past vocalized response at this point— well, anything beyond moaning, that is.

his pace was unbelievable, pounding into you senselessly as if he had been waiting to jump your bones since your first meeting after red light, green light. you felt as though you were on cloud nine and you never wanted to come down.

yeah, if anyone had told you that you’d be happily getting dicked down by the one person you thought you hated before— you’d have laughed in their face.

but who’s laughing now?

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hey y’all! i feel like i’ve been posting few and far between and i apologize for that, works been busy and i have been struggling with some personal matters but i tried my best to pull together a post for you all!

to the anon that requested this i apologize if this was shorter than you hoped for but i truly hope you enjoyed reading! thank you for trusting me with your request 💌

have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

🏷️: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN PISCES

venus in pisces paints such an idealistic picture of their partner that it can be hard for them to notice red flags. this placement is sensitive and emotional, which makes the tears easy to flow when overwhelmed.

theo nott x reader x lorenzo berkshire

warnings: 18+ mdni, double penetration, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, sharing, praise, cursing

nav // event / more

you and theo have been talking about this for a while – both of you were into the idea of a threesome, so it just seemed right to try it with one of his willing friends. what you didn’t expect, though, was him to show up with none other than lorenzo. the latter’s smirk should’ve been a dead giveaway that it’s not going to be gentle – and oh god, it wasn’t.

your body was pressed tightly to theo’s as you laid on top of him, your face tucked into his neck. his cock was deep inside your dripping pussy, easily sliding in and out, as was lorenzo’s. you didn’t know what to expect before, but now you were certain – having two big dicks in your pussy was probably the best pleasure you’d ever felt, as much as it was painful and unusual at first.

"fuck, nott, you’ve been keeping all this to yourself all this time, huh?” you heard enzo’s voice from behind as he thrusted deeper, prompting theo to do the same. he chuckled hoarsely, his hand finding your chin to tilt your head. he wanted to look at you, even though you were doing your best to stay hidden in the crook of his neck – you were too out of it, too flustered and somewhat embarrassed.

"she’s so good, i know. aren’t you, tesoro?" theo murmured, gazing tenderly into your glassy eyes. the sight of tears about to fall down your cheeks made his expression soften, which was a complete contrast to the deep and hard way he was fucking you in. "aren’t you so pretty like that?”

you barely managed to nod, overwhelmed by the pleasure his and his friend’s cocks we’re giving you. a tear escaped, making a wet trail down your cheek, falling onto theo’s bare chest. his thumb swiped over your skin, wiping it away, and enzo seemed to have caught that even from behind. a small groan left his mouth, and his grip on your hips turned bruising – he had always had a weakness for seeing pretty girls cry.

"and she’s crying, fuck— she’s a goddamn jewel," he gritted out, his tongue sticking out to lick at his bottom lip, short, panting breaths drying it out in an instant. "can i see?”

theo smirked, though somehow it looked even in this situation, and tugged on your chin, turning your face to the side.

"my beautiful girl… isn’t that right, amore?" he drawled as his hips thrusted up in a particularly strong move. you loudly gasped, and a flow of tears erupted from your widened eyes, streaming down your flushed face.

the boys groaned in unison, impossibly aroused by the sight. theo couldn’t hold back from capturing your lips with his in a sloppy kiss, while lorenzo tried hard not to cum right on the spot. he knew theo wouldn’t take it lightly, him getting release before his girlfriend could, so he had to compose himself, even though the sound of your desperate sobs was bringing him closer and closer to the much anticipated end. though with the way you were clenching around their needy, throbbing cocks, neither of them would have to wait for long.

[lilangelbud]

Could you please do a 4-some with mom dad son and daughter? I’m in the mood for mom-son and dad-daughter but all together

family entanglement coming right up! (used a bit of a different writing style for this one. Hope you enjoy it!) ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

The living room was bathed in the dim glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. The air was heavy with the scent of wine and something else—something electric, unspoken. The mother sat on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, a glass of red wine perched delicately in her hand. The father lounged in his armchair, his eyes flicking between his wife and his daughter, who stood by the window, her slender silhouette framed by the fading light.

The daughter—lithe, with hair that fell like a silk curtain down her back—turned to face her father, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Dad,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “you’re staring again.”

He raised an eyebrow, his fingers twitching as if they longed to tangle in her hair. “Can’t help it,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “You’re hard to look away from.”

The mother set her wine glass down with a soft clink, her gaze sharp as it darted between them. “Careful,” she murmured, her tone laced with something unspoken. “You two are playing with fire.”

The daughter laughed, a sound that was both light and dangerous. “Fire’s always been my favorite element,” she said, stepping closer to her father. Her hips swayed with each step, her movements deliberate, calculated. She stopped just inches from him, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Isn’t it yours, Daddy?”

The father’s hand shot up, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. “You’re testing me,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “And you know what happens when you test me.”

The mother’s eyes darkened as she watched them, her own desires stirring beneath the surface. She rose from the couch, her dress clinging to her curves as she crossed the room. “Enough,” she said, though there was no bite in her words. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it together.”

The daughter glanced over her shoulder, her smile widening. “Mom,” she purred, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

The mother’s lips curved into a sly smile as she reached out, her hand brushing against her daughter’s cheek before trailing down to her neck. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper. “But you’re about to find out.”

The father watched them, his heart pounding in his chest. This was wrong—so wrong—and yet, it felt so right. His hand tightened in his daughter’s hair as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his shirt as she pressed herself against him.

The mother stepped closer, her fingers sliding down her daughter’s back as she leaned in to kiss her husband. The taste of wine still lingered on her lips, intoxicating and sweet. She deepened the kiss, her tongue teasing his as her hands roamed over his chest.

The daughter broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked between her parents. “This is…” she began, but her words trailed off as her father’s hand slid down her side, his fingers brushing against the curve of her hip.

“This is what we’ve all wanted,” the father finished, his voice rough and low. “And we’re not stopping now.”

The mother nodded, her eyes dark with desire as she reached for her daughter’s hand. “Together,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor of excitement that ran through her. “We’ll do this together.”

The daughter hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she looked between her parents. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, she stepped back, her hands moving to the hem of her dress. She pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath.

The father’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in, her slender frame illuminated by the fading light. His hands itched to touch her, to explore every inch of her. He stood, his own clothes falling to the floor as he stepped closer, his chest pressing against hers as he kissed her again.

The mother watched them, her own desire burning hotter with each passing moment. She reached for the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly, her eyes never leaving her husband and daughter. The fabric pooled at her feet, revealing the tight, toned body that still turned heads even after all these years.

She stepped closer, her hands sliding over her daughter’s shoulders as she pressed her lips to the back of her neck. The daughter shivered, her breath hitching as her mother’s hands moved down her body, her fingers tracing the curve of her breasts.

The father groaned, his hands gripping his daughter’s hips as he pulled her closer, his arousal pressing against her. He looked at his wife over their daughter’s shoulder, his eyes dark with need. “Together,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “All of us.”

The mother nodded, her lips curving into a smile as she stepped around to face her husband. She kissed him deeply, her hands moving over his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she sank to her knees before him, her eyes locked on his as she took him into her mouth.

The daughter watched them, her heart pounding as she felt her father’s hands tighten on her hips. She turned to face him, her lips curving into a sly smile as she reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his length. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr, “let me take care of you.”

The father groaned, his head falling back as his daughter’s hand moved over him, her touch sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He reached for her, his hands tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

The mother looked up at them, her lips still wrapped around her husband as her hands moved to her daughter’s hips. She pulled her closer, her mouth leaving her husband’s length as she pressed her lips to her daughter’s stomach, her kisses trailing lower and lower.

The daughter gasped, her hands tightening on her father as she felt her mother’s lips between her legs. “Mommy,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Oh, god, Mom…”

The father watched them, his heart pounding as he saw his wife’s head moving between his daughter’s legs. He reached for his wife, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her back, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation.

The daughter stumbled back, her chest heaving as she looked between her parents. “I want more,” she said, her voice trembling with need. “I want all of you.”

The father nodded, his eyes dark with desire as he stepped closer, his hands gripping her hips as he lifted her onto the edge of the couch. He positioned himself between her legs, his arousal pressing against her as he looked down at her, his breath coming in short gasps.

The mother moved behind him, her hands sliding over his back as she pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his ear. “Take her,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “She’s yours.”

The father groaned, his hands tightening on his daughter’s hips as he pushed himself into her, his body shuddering at the feeling of her tight warmth around him. The daughter gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arched against him, her body craving more.

The mother watched them, her own desire burning hotter as she saw her husband moving inside their daughter. She stepped closer, her hands sliding over her daughter’s breasts as she leaned in to kiss her, her lips claiming hers in a kiss that was both possessive and tender.

The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt his wife’s hands on his daughter, her lips claiming hers. He reached for his wife, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation.

The daughter gasped, her nails digging into her father’s shoulders as she felt him moving inside her, her mother’s hands on her breasts, her lips claiming hers. She arched against him, her body trembling with pleasure as she felt herself getting closer, closer, closer…

“Mommy,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Daddy… I’m so close…”

The mother smiled, her hands moving down her daughter’s body as she pressed her lips to her ear. “Let go,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “We’re here with you. Let go.”

The daughter gasped, her body shuddering as she felt herself tipping over the edge, her pleasure crashing over her in waves. She cried out, her nails digging into her father’s shoulders as she arched against him, her body trembling with pleasure.

The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt his daughter clenching around him. He reached for his wife, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation.

The mother watched them, her own desire burning hotter as she saw her husband and daughter coming together. She stepped closer, her hands sliding over her daughter’s body as she pressed herself against her husband, her lips brushing against his ear. “Take her,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

The father groaned, his hands tightening on his daughter’s hips as he thrust into her one last time, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside her. He leaned over her, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked down at her, his heart pounding in his chest.

The daughter gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt him moving inside her, her body trembling with pleasure as she felt herself getting closer, closer, closer…

---

The living room was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the air electric with the kind of tension that could only come from crossing lines that had long been drawn in the sand. The father was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling as he leaned over his daughter, her body still trembling beneath him. The mother stood close, her fingers trailing down her husband’s back, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she watched them.

But then, a creak from the doorway broke the silence.

All three turned their heads to see the son standing there, his eyes wide with shock—and something else. Something darker, more primal. He’d been drawn to the sounds, curious and unable to resist. Now, he was frozen in place, his gaze flickering between his parents and his sister, his heart pounding in his chest.

The mother was the first to break the silence. Her voice was low, almost teasing, as she spoke. “Come here,” she said, her eyes locking onto her son’s. There was a challenge in her tone, a dare. The son hesitated, his hands clenching at his sides, but then he took a step forward. And then another. And another.

The daughter turned her head to look at her brother, her breath still uneven, her cheeks flushed. “Join us, big bro” she whispered, her voice husky with need. The son’s eyes darkened, his body responding to her words even before he could process them. He moved closer, his hands twitching as though he wanted to reach out and touch but wasn’t sure where to start.

The father straightened, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his son. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—competition, maybe, or approval. He stepped back from his daughter, giving his son room to approach. “She’s yours,” he said, his voice rough with something that wasn’t quite a command but wasn’t a suggestion either.

The son’s breath hitched as he looked down at his sister, her body still glistening with sweat, her lips swollen from their father’s kisses. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. The daughter looked up at him, her eyes heavy with need, her lips parting as if to speak. But before she could say anything, the son leaned down and captured her mouth with his.

The kiss was hesitant at first, tentative, as though they were both testing the waters. But then the daughter let out a soft moan, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, and the son’s restraint shattered. He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

The mother watched them, her lips curving into a smile as she stepped closer to her husband. Her hands slid over his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as she pressed herself against him. “Does it excite you?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Watching them together?”

The father groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her closer. “You know it does,” he growled, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all hunger and possession.

Meanwhile, the son’s hands were exploring his sister’s body with a kind of desperate urgency, as though he was afraid she might disappear if he stopped touching her. His fingers slid between her thighs, and she gasped, her body arching against his. “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

The son didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the couch and laying her down gently. He knelt between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs as he leaned down to kiss her again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more possessive, as though he was claiming her in a way he’d never dared to before.

The father and mother watched them, their own desire growing hotter as they saw their children coming together. The mother reached down, her fingers trailing over her husband’s length, and he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. “Take me,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

The father didn’t hesitate. He turned her around, pressing her against the back of the couch as he lifted her dress. She let out a soft moan as he slid into her from behind, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her with a kind of desperation that made her knees weak.

The room was filled with the sounds of their pleasure, mingling together in a symphony of need and desire. The mother’s moans were soft and breathy, her back arching as she pressed herself against her husband. The daughter’s cries were louder, more urgent, as her brother’s mouth and hands worked her body with a kind of hunger that left her trembling.

The son’s tongue swirled around her clit, his hands gripping her hips as he devoured her. The daughter’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she cried out. “Oh God, yes,” she moaned, her body shaking with pleasure as she felt herself getting closer, closer, closer…

The father’s thrusts grew more urgent, his hands tightening on his wife’s hips as he felt his own climax building. He leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “You’re mine.”

The mother shuddered, her body trembling with pleasure as she felt him moving inside her. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting in a silent scream as she came, her body clenching around him.

The son felt his sister’s body tighten around him, her cries growing louder as she came, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working her until she was trembling with aftershocks, her body writhing beneath him.

The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt his own climax approaching. He leaned over his wife, his breath coming in short gasps as he whispered, “Come for me.”

The mother shuddered, her body trembling with pleasure as she came again, her nails digging into the couch. The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he spilled himself inside her, his body shuddering with release.

The son finally pulled back, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked down at his sister, her body still trembling with pleasure. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was soft and tender, a stark contrast to the hunger of before.

The father stepped back from his wife, his hands sliding over her body as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

The mother turned to look at him, her lips curving into a smile as she reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her voice low and sultry.

The daughter reached up to pull her brother closer, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The son groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he leaned down to kiss her again, his body responding to her words even before he could process them.