#please. please save me from this hell of my own fucking making

[theultimateboredwriter]

for the love of god give me some irumaki content

When the rarepair is so rare that you gotta make them in toca boca for some ounce of content

[holeforzenin]

❝​REPAYMENT​❝

Synopsis - Oh no! What happens when the big, massive strong man that saved you during a very dangerous war, wants something from you in return for his bravery?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!reader

Warnings - Dub-con, mentions of killing people, creampie, ass play, size kink, he stuffs his gloves in your mouth, he's possessive, mentions about keeping you with him. Dark content. this was kinda rushed so sorry for any errors!!

Art credits @umkochannart on twitter!

A/n - I NEED HIM, SOMEONE PLEASE

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Oh my— fuck! Sir, please we shouldn't be doing this, someone might see!” you stammered, legs trembling as your panties lazily pooled around your ankles. You mewled at the feeling of his hard, cold gear slapping against the mound of your ass, making the flesh ripple against his clothed pelvis. You keened as the wooden table dug into your stomach as you held onto the edge for dear life.

His cock was so thick and long—perfectly curved as it stretches open your tight, compressed walls to alter his girth. He grunts, feeling your tight little pussy eagerly fluttering around his invasive dick as you blabber on and on about your little worries about getting caught. Of course, you minded that a stranger man was destroying your pussy, but that was the least of your worries right now. The thought of getting caught and someone seeing your vulnerable self—almost naked, being pounded against a small table in the supply room by a big solider that's fully clothed, except for the crotch of his pants that's zipped down to free his aching cock, that's currently having your cunt drooling—making a mess all over his thick combat pants, made your mind hazy and your cunt throbbing in both excitement and frustration.

“Aww don't worry bout' that darling—I’ll just kill them for you so they won't say anything, will that be better?” he chuckles, his gloved hands digging into your hips as he deeply thrusts himself inside your dripping pussy relentlessly, fucking every single brain cell out of you. For someone who is “scared”, your pussy sure as hell was soaked and aroused.

He smirked under his skull mask at the feeling of your sweet pussy throbbing in tight circles around his cock to his words. “Oh? What a dirty little slut, does my talking about killing people make you horny? Such a sick little bitch, this pussy is clenching around me like it's fucking addicted to my cock, you a virgin, darling?”

Your eyebrows furred together at his sick wordings, you felt on the verge of losing your mind as the feeling of pure pleasure clouded your mind. “No, M’not!” you whimpered out, your tits grazing against the wooden table as your gushy pussy leaked all over his veiny shaft, every thrust had your pussy coating his cock even more with your filthy juices—as if you were enjoying it, or maybe you were?

“Oh yeah? Well, your cunt sure is fucking tight and warm—squeezing me so hard for someone that's a whore, whaddya say I keep you here and split open this little pussy whenever I feel like it?” he chuckles darkly, a huge palm slapping your bouncing ass as it jiggles against him, you moaned, tears prickling at your tear line as his thick, filled balls slaps against your poor clit, creating even more friction that had you seeing stars.

“No! Sir—can't, you promised you'll let me go after this!” you muttered, feeling so stuffed by the big man’s cock. “Shh, shhh I'm just joking with you doll” he laughs wickedly, perverted eyes moving down to where the two of you were lewdly connected. His eyes fixated on your other little neglected hole, which's already coated with some slick from your pussy. He eagerly pulled off one of his gloves and placed it on the table. You jolted unexpectedly when he stuffed a thumb deep into your mouth, he pressed his weighted chest onto your smaller back—getting closer to you as he whispered, “Get it all wet and lubed up, it's for your own good, darling”, you were confused and oblivious to what he'd be needing his thumb for but obeyed him anyways, not wanting to make the big man angry.

You whirled your tongue around his finger, making sure to get as much spit on it as possible. After, you hummed, letting him know that you were done. He pulled his finger out, sticky drips of spit coating him. Your eyes widen with fear when you felt his fat thumb circling your virgin asshole, he spreads the spit all over the shy, fluttering hole before sinking it in little by little. “Fuck! Sir—please be gentle, never had anything in there!” You yelled as you cried out in pain of your untouched hole getting stretched out. He quickly picked up his glove and shoved it into your mouth when there were footsteps heard thumping outside the room. “For heaven's sake, please shut the fuck up or I’ll really kill someone. I'm not joking darling. You’re mine now and I won't let other eyes see what's mine” he said in a stern tone. He hissed lowly at the feeling of your asshole swallowing his whole thumb in, all the way to the hilt.

“Such a tight little asshole, M’honored I’ll be the first one to break open this pretty ass”. Your muffled cries got louder as he pounded his hefty cock harder into your pussy, making it gushing all over him as he fucked out more and more juices out of your body. Soon the pain turned into pleasure as he started wiggling his thumb inside of you, feeling it exploring your tight walls. Your moan grew sweeter and more fucked out as you felt your orgasm washing over you—his huge cock tip nudging against your G-spot bullyingly, making your mind hazy. He felt it—felt the way your pussy grew more wetter and tighter around his length, taking him in all the way in as he pants. “Fuck darling are you gonna cum? Go on baby, you can cum, cum all over my cock, you slut”. He ordered, letting his thumb hooked into your butthole as he uses three other fingers to rub wet circles around your clit.

You moaned out, standing on your tippy toes as you clenched both holes tighter around him, making him hiss as you squirted all over him—your filthy mess splattering all over his uniform and gear as he fucks more and more juices out of your dirty pussy. He groaned loudly as you made a mess all over him—he never had someone squirting on him before, so it drove him fucking crazy. He lands slap after slap on your ass cheeks—making the flesh red as you whimpered. “Such a messy little whore, you really squirted on a random man you don't even know? You really are a little slut, I'm definitely keeping you darling” he laughs out, feeling his orgasm following him. “I’m gonna stuff this cute little pussy so full of my seed, gonna drain it so deep inside you baby, it'll come out your mouth” The whole room reeked of sex as he towered over you, his massive cock snugly engulfed by your little pussy, so tight and warm for him. He moans louder, splitting out a few curses as he pulled out his thumb out of your ass, making your little hole wink at him at the loss of his finger. He used both hands to grip your hips, holding you steady as he used your body as a little fuckdoll, manhandling your little body to meet his cock halfway as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

“No please! Sir not insi-” Too late, hot ropes of warm sticky cum spurted into your poor hole, filling it up as your eyes roll back. “Fuckkk, ohh fuckk yesss, such a good little cumslut for me” he moaned out with ecstasy as he emptied into your warm pussy—after so long.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as he stilled himself into you. He bent over once again, his chest and gear touching your back as he whispered to you. “Don't worry sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you, will fucking kill anyone if they dare look in your direction. You'll be mine forever, pretty”.

[haniette]

practice makes perfect. // ln4

pairing | lando norris x fem!reader

genre | fluff, lots of angst, friends to lovers, idiots in love, childhood best friends au, slowburn (trust the process), hurt-comfort

word count | 22.5k (i know- my hand slipped)

warnings | no use of y/n, suggestive in some moments, emotional tension, jealous!lando, mentions of insecurities, use of alcohol, cursing, kissing, pet names (sweetheart), lots of tension, pinning, reader and lando being certified yappers, bantering and lots of teasing

summary: "practice makes perfect" or whatever they say. but who would have thought, that simple love lessons which he decided to give his best friend would turn into something much more. something much more complicated.

a/n: SURPRISEEEE !! happy bday to my dearest @norristrii !! 🧡 love u girlie xoxo, hope you’ll enjoy it ! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡♡

“Fucking hell, I quit this shit.”

As you got into the car, you slammed the door shut and let out an exaggerated groan, throwing your bag onto the backseat. Slumping into the seat, you crossed your arms and stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Lando, who already had this annoying, amused look on his face. Damn it.

“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart.” He smirked from the driver’s seat and raised his eyebrow at you. 

“Never again.” You muttered, and his lovely laughter filled the whole car. 

You both knew that what you said wasn’t true. In a few days, you’d go on another date, say the same words, and laugh it off with him. The life of a hopeless romantic wasn’t easy.

“Well, that bad, huh? Come on, what was it this time?” He asked curiously, biting his lower lip as you sighed dramatically.

The memories from a couple of minutes flooded your head, still vivid, and it made you want to scream from embarrassment. 

“He spent the entire date explaining the plot of his favorite sci-fi series. In excruciating detail!” You started, Lando’s mouth slightly going open, “And you know, it’s not bad! But now I know more about space wars and intergalactic trade agreements than I ever wanted to.” A whine escaped from you as you looked out the window at the restaurant you were still in a few minutes ago. 

Lando burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the car. “Wait, wait— he actually talked about space wars and explained trade agreements? On a date?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You looked at him with a withering glare. “Oh boy, let me tell you that it only gets worse.” You added, what made the grin of your best friend only go wider. At this point, listening to all the absurd things your dates did was Lando’s passion.

“When I told him I wasn’t really into sci-fi, he was baffled and said I clearly ‘didn’t understand the complexities of worldbuilding.’ Mate, I didn’t understand anything you said, and you complain that I don’t understand worldbuilding. Nah, that’s just crazy.” There was nothing else left for you but to sigh while sliding down the seat.

Lando doubled over, gripping the steering wheel for some support. “No. Fucking. Way.”

“Yes way,” You groaned, sitting back and throwing your head back against the headrest. “And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he pulled out his phone—mind you it was mid-date—and started reading me a fanfic he wrote. His own fanfiction!” You threw your hands in the air as the ridiculousness of the situation finally kicked in.

Lando’s laughter filled the car, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Oh my God. Please, tell me that it was a romance.”

You glared at him, and your lips twitched despite trying to stay serious. “Of course, it was, even with some smut scenes! Can you imagine?” The audacity of that man still made your skin crawl.

Lando put his hands on his face, cackling uncontrollably. “And you actually sat through all of that? Before you finally texted me to save you from this madness?” At this stage, he was shedding tears from laughing too hard.

“What was I supposed to do? Walk out, just like that? ” You replied, chuckling at the end as you looked at him, “Mind you, it wasn’t easy to even get out now. For fucks’s sake, man.” You closed your eyes as a sigh left your mouth, a smile still wandering over your lips.

Lando shook his head, his soft curls bouncing slightly as he still giggled. “Honestly, I don’t know where you find these people. You must have some sort of a gift.” 

You smacked his arm, unable to stop yourself from laughing now. “Oh, shut up, you muppet. It’s not my fault he seemed normal on the app!”

“Normal?” Lando repeated, his voice full of mockery, “The man brought his fanfiction to a date. That’s a new low, even for you.” He snickered, not being able to stop himself from teasing you.

“I’m never dating again.” You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “How is it possible that I always meet the biggest twats in Monaco? I swear, all of the best men are already taken.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Lando scoffed while giving you a side-eye. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” He commented as you also alluded to him (still) being available on the love market.

After a while, he looked at you, again. Lando was grinning, and his voice softened just slightly. “But don’t worry, you’ll bounce back. You always do.”

He patted your thigh and gave it a small squeeze as he used to do. “Besides, you’ve got me as a backup.”He added teasingly while sending you a wink.

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes but smiling. That freaking muppet. Your muppet.

“Yeah, yeah. Just drive, will you?” You responded while concentrating on the scenery outside the window, still feeling his eyes on you.

As Lando drove away from the restaurant, his chuckles still echoing in the car, you couldn’t help but feel lighter in your heart. Somehow, even the worst nights didn’t seem so bad with him. He had this ability to make even the worst moments feel less draining. 

────୨ৎ────

When you got to Lando’s apartment, without much thought you changed into some of his clothes. You couldn’t wait any longer to take this uncomfortable dress off of you and put something cozy on while also removing the makeup you wore that night. In the meantime, Lando took the takeout he ordered for both of you to the living room, and prepared two glasses for the wine. 

After every failed blind date, Lando would save you, take you to his place, eat, and talk about the ridiculous date you had while drinking some cheap wine. He was always there for you, after every shitty day and even worse dates. 

You’ve known each other for most of your lives as you met in primary school. It all started pretty innocently—barely audible “hi”, cute smiles here and there, then having fun together after school. Just you two being youthful kids. 

With time, everything progressed and so did you. 

The two of you became inseparable. You hung out with Lando most of your days, staying at his house more than at your own. 

Every new thing that was known to you was tried together with Lando. With him you went through the tough time of puberty, you skipped school, you snuck out of your house at night, you went to your first parties, you tried alcohol for the first time, and of course, he was your first kiss (which turned out to be pretty awkward). 

It was Lando and you against the world. And the shitty dates.

But as you both grew up, things started to change. You both always insisted that there was no romantic tension between you, even though all of your friends, your families, and even strangers constantly mistook you for a couple. But that was just how it was between you two; non-stop bantering with friendly flirting. You’ve never overthought it too much as you considered it a closed case.

The two of you sat cross-legged on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine standing on the coffee table, right beside the takeaway boxes. Lando leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch as he watched you swirl your glass like some sort of wine connoisseur.

“So,” He said with a teasing smirk, “Mister Fanfiction is officially out of the list, huh?” 

You groaned, hiding your face behind your glass. “Don’t remind me. I can still hear him narrating those battle scenes like he was auditioning for an audiobook.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “To be honest, I don’t know how you do it. At this point, it’s almost impressive. You’ve got a talent for finding the weirdest men in Monaco.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Careful, Norris. You’re on thin ice.” Lando grinned as you stuck out your tongue at him, clearly enjoying himself. 

“I’m just saying, that maybe…” He paused, observing your face with a smirk, “Maybe you’re the problem.”

You blinked at him, “Excuse me?” A snicker left your mouth. “So now suddenly all of the failed dates are my fault?”

“No, no! Think about it,” He continued, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Clearly, you need someone to teach you how to date properly.”

You raised a brow, your lips twitching. “Oh, really? And who’s going to do that? You?”

Lando took another sip of his wine, smirking behind the glass. “Maybe I should. You know I have some experience, and God knows I’ve watched you crash and burn enough times to know how to handle you. Practice makes perfect after all.” He chuckled, still oblivious to what was going on in your head.

To his surprise, you suddenly leaned forward, setting your glass down with a decisive clink. “Okay then. Teach me, Mr. I-know-everything-about-love.”

He froze in his spot, staring at you while holding his breath. “Wait. What?” He tilted his head questioningly, flabbergasted at your reaction.

“You heard me,” You said, crossing your arms. “Teach me how to date. If you’re such an expert, show me what I’m doing wrong.” A smirk appeared on your lips as you noticed how taken aback he was by your directness.

His grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of nervousness. “Hey, I was just joking.” Lando excused himself quickly, scratching the back of his head. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to counter. “I’m not.” Your tone daring him to back out.

The boy hesitated, the tips of his ears turning pink. He cleared his throat before finally speaking, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You must have drank too much wine tonight.” He reached to take your glass, but you moved your hand away, making it impossible for him to reach.

“Why not?” You challenged him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Too afraid you’ll fail?”

Lando scoffed, quickly straightening up his position. “Please. If anyone can turn your love life around, it’s me, sweetheart.”

“Then prove it.” You said, leaning in. 

Even you were quite shocked with yourself. But frankly, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t speaking the side where all the emotions toward him accumulated in you. And seeing him this flustered was worth risking it all.

For a moment, Lando just stared at you, caught between amusement and sheer disbelief. Where did this sudden change in you come from? However, he had to agree, he enjoyed it.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, he finally answered, “Fine. But we need some ground rules.”

You laughed, bringing your knee close to your chest, “Rules? Oh, this is going to be good.” You tilted your head while looking at him curiously.

“Rule number one,” He said, pointing at you, “No falling in love with your teacher.” 

You scoffed and looked at him pityingly, “Oh please,” You rolled your eyes at him, “Trust me, Norris, that is not happening—never.”

“We’ll see,” He shot back, smirking. “Rule number two, I’m in charge. You do what I say.”

You grinned at his words, “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Hey, you asked for my help,” He retorted, his confidence returning. “Now, are we doing this or not?” His aquamarine eyes were stuck on you, searching for an answer.

A bright grin adorned your lips as you raised your glass for a toast. “Deal.” You said, “Teach me how to date, muppet.”

He clinked his glass against yours, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his bravado. “Oh, you're going to regret this.”

“Bet.”

The two of you burst into laughter, but as the conversation moved on, neither of you could shake the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. Something new, something electric. Something that could only end up in two ways. Perfectly right or terribly wrong.

────୨ৎ────

The faint glow of morning sunlight seeped through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your cluttered room. A half-empty glass of water sat precariously on the edge of your nightstand, next to a book you promised yourself you’d finish weeks ago. Outside, the distant hum of traffic mingled with the chirping of early birds, a cruel reminder that the world was already awake.

And then came the shrill ring of your phone, piercing the peace like a dagger.

You groaned, blindly reaching for the offending device. When your hand finally found it, you squinted at the screen through bleary eyes.

Lando. Of course. 

You contemplated letting it ring, but with his persistence, you knew better.

Sliding to answer, you muttered, “What?” Your voice was hoarse, scratchy from sleep.

His unmistakably cheerful voice came from the other end of the line, far too chipper for this hour. “'Morning! Hope you’re ready for your first lesson.”

You blinked at the ceiling, your brain struggling to process his words. “Lan, it’s nearly eight in the morning. Have you gone crazy?”

“Nope,” He replied, completely unbothered. “And that is the perfect time to start our lesson. Come on, get out of bed, stinky.”

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head in protest. “Just let me sleep, dickhead.”

“Nope. I’ll be at yours in ten.”

Your eyes snapped open, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. “Ten minutes?! Lando, I swear—”

“Get ready, you can’t miss your first lesson.” He chortled, making you groan at his words. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed in frustration.

His laughter rang through the line, light and unbothered. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The call ended before you could respond, leaving you staring at the ceiling in disbelief. The soft ticking of the clock on your wall mocked you as you groaned loudly into your pillow.

For a brief moment, you debated ignoring him, but you knew Lando too well. If you didn’t answer the door, he’d just bang on it until the entire building woke up.

────୨ৎ────

Lando ended up sticking to his word and arrived in the next ten minutes. You were barely awake when the loud, obnoxious knocking jolted you from your bed. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the door, still wrapped in your blanket. You opened it to find Lando standing there, annoyingly bright-eyed and grinning like the devil himself.

“Morning, sweetheart!” He said, way too chipper for 7 AM.

You squinted at him, clutching your blanket tighter. “It’s not morning. It’s an ungodly hour, and I hate you.”

“Nah, you love me. Now come on, get dressed. We’ve got lessons to start.”

“Lessons on what? Torturing me at ungodly hours?” You grumbled, stepping aside to let him in.

Lando strolled in like he owned the place, collapsing onto your couch. He propped his feet up on your coffee table, looking entirely too comfortable.

“Nope. Lessons on how to become a dating pro, obviously.” He shot you a grin, his dimples on full display. “And step one is not looking like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

You grabbed a pillow from the couch without hesitation and launched it at his head. Laughing, he dodged it effortlessly as he leaned back into the cushions.

“I’m not doing this,” You grumbled, standing with your arms crossed. “Find another victim.”

Lando laughed, patting the spot next to him. “Oh, come on. You know you’re going to have fun. And besides, you were the one who insisted on me teaching you.”

You groaned, finally giving in and sitting next to him, your blanket still draped around your shoulders. “I take it back. This was a terrible idea.” 

He nudged your shoulder with his. “No take-backs. Now, let’s get started. First lesson is about showing up on time and looking cute.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Says the guy in sweatpants and a hoodie.”

Lando laughed, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Fair point. But you’re still the one who needs lessons, not me. And I’m setting the rules here, aren't I?”

“That’s not a rule. That’s just you being annoying.” You mumbled, burying yourself in the cushions as you leaned back.

“Hey, you want to get better at this or not?” Lando teased, “Now, sit up. Lesson One starts now.”

You groaned but sat up begrudgingly, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.”

Lando crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Lesson One is also about your confidence. The way you carry yourself is everything. If you go on a date looking like you just crawled out of bed—”

“But I did just crawl out of bed!” You snapped.

“Exactly my point.” He said smugly.

You scowled at him, but he was already pulling you to your feet. “Alright,” He said, taking you to your bedroom and spinning you toward the mirror. “Let’s start with posture. Shoulders back, chin up like you want to be here.”

“But I don’t want to be here.” You muttered.

“Fake it till you make it.” Lando quipped.

Reluctantly, you stood up straighter, mimicking his instructions. It looked so weird. You were still in your pyjamas and the blanket now unfortunately lying on the floor. 

He moved to stand behind you, gently adjusting your shoulders. His touch was firm but light, and it made your heart do a little flip—not that you’d want to admit it.

“Better,” He said, nodding at your reflection. “Now, confidence isn’t just how you look. It’s how you speak. Give me your best ‘Hi, nice to meet you.’”

You cleared your throat, feeling ridiculous. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Lando winced dramatically, tilting his head to look at you in your reflection. “Ugh, no. That sounded like you were apologizing for existing. Try again—this time, like you’re happy to meet me.”

You rolled your eyes but tried again, adding a bit more energy to your voice. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Better, but now you sound like a game show host.”

You groaned. “Lando, this is stupid.”

“No, this is important,” He said, laughing. “You’ve got to find the balance—confident but natural.”

You tried again, narrowing your eyes at him as you said, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Lando smirked. “There it is. See? Not that hard, is it?”

“You’re so lucky I haven’t had my coffee yet, or I’d kill you for this.” You muttered, glaring at him. 

“Which brings me to the second part of Lesson One,” He said, ignoring your threat. “Eye contact. If you want someone to feel like they matter, you look them in the eyes.”

You crossed your arms nonchalantly. “That’s easy.”

He stepped closer, spinning you around to face him. “Okay, prove it.”

Your breath was caught in your lungs as his blue-green eyes locked onto yours. He held your gaze steadily, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Suddenly, eye contact didn’t feel so easy.

“See? Not so simple, huh?” He said, his voice lower now, but still playful.

You scoffed, breaking eye contact and turning away. “Whatever. You’re just distracting.”

Lando chuckled. “That’s the point. A good date is gonna test your confidence. If you can hold your ground with me, then you’re more than ready.”

Despite your initial grumpiness, you found yourself smiling. His teasing felt less like mockery and more like encouragement, and as you practiced a few more scenarios—bantering the entire time—you started to feel a little less self-conscious.

By the time you were both laughing too hard to continue, your stomach growled loudly.

Lando raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Alright, I think we’ve earned a break. Let’s go get breakfast. My treat—since I’m such a generous coach.”

“You? Generous?” You questioned, grabbing your bag. “You’re a menace.”

“A menace who’s gonna make you a dating pro.” He shot back, winking at you as he held the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes but followed him out, feeling oddly lighter than you had in days. Maybe this “lesson” thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

────୨ৎ────

As your second lesson, Lando took you this afternoon to your favourite café.

The café bustled with the quiet hum of chatter, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the clinking of ceramic cups. A group of teenagers laughed at a corner table, while an older couple sat by the window, sharing a croissant. 

You sat across from Lando, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the edge of the table, his grin infuriatingly smug. 

“This is ridiculous,” You said, glancing around the room. “What am I even supposed to do?”

He smirked, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “Easy. Pretend I’m a random guy you’re interested in. Strike up a conversation—charm me.” A smug smile appeared on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed. “You realize you’re not exactly a random guy, right?”

“Exactly my point. If you can charm me, you can charm anyone.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of a smile. “Fine. But don’t blame me when you’re left speechless.”

“That’s the spirit.” He sat back, crossing his arms, his expression all too amused.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned forward, mimicking what you thought was an effortless smile. “Hi there,” You said sweetly, your voice dripping with mock charm. “I couldn’t help but notice your incredibly obnoxious smirk from across the room. Do you always look this punchable, or is it just today?”

Lando choked on his coffee, holding back his laughter as people around already looked in your direction from his sudden slam of the cup against the coffee plate. 

“Okay, okay,” He said, wiping his mouth. “Not bad, but maybe dial it back a bit. Save the insults for date three.”

You groaned, sinking back into your chair. “This is stupid. What’s even the point?”

“The point,” He started, leaning forward, his eyes suddenly serious, “is to get you out of your head. You’re overthinking everything.”

You frowned, his words hitting a little too close to home. “I’m not overthinking. I’m just… bad at this.”

“You’re not bad at this,” He said softly. “You just don’t trust yourself.” The warmth in his voice caught you off guard. 

His gaze softened, his blue-green eyes holding yours in a way that made your stomach flip. You looked away, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, the way his knee brushed yours under the tiny table.

“Alright, let’s switch it up,” He said, breaking the tension. “We’ll role-play, but I’ll start this time. Watch and learn.”

He straightened in his chair, his playful smirk returning. “Excuse me, miss,” He said, his voice smoother than you’d ever heard it. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re sitting here all alone, looking like you could use some company.”

You raised an eyebrow, struggling to hide your grin. “That’s your line? Seriously, Norris?”

“Hey, usually it works,” He shot back, chuckling. “Now play along.”

“Fine.” You leaned forward, your lips twitching as you tried to stay in character. “Well, that depends. Are you always this confident, or are you just pretending because you’re at a café?”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only when I meet someone worth talking to.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the playful banter taking on an undercurrent of something deeper. The air between you shifted, the teasing smiles lingering a little too long, your gazes locked a little too intensely.

“See?” He said finally, “You’ve got this.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

The moment lingered, the conversation forgotten as silence fell between you. Lando’s fingers tapped against his cup, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest second before his eyes were back on yours. He sent you one of the innocent smiles as he took his cup of coffee and took a sip from it. 

Gosh, he’s going to be the death of you someday.

────୨ৎ────

The walk back from the café had been a peaceful one, with the sun setting slowly behind the buildings, casting the streets in a warm, golden light. 

Lando, always with that easy confidence, walked beside you, humming a tune under his breath while you quietly scrolled through your phone. Every now and then, your shoulders brushed as you walked, and you couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through you every time.

Eventually, though, Lando broke the silence. “I’m starving,” He announced, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Let’s grab some snacks.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Snack run? You’re not getting chips again, are you?”

He shrugged casually, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, “I could eat chips for days, but no, I was thinking something different this time.”

“Uh-huh. You’re definitely getting chips.”

He grinned, pulling you toward the nearby grocery store. “You’ll see.”

The store filled a quiet hum of its own, the soft overhead lights buzzing faintly as you both entered with a bell ringing above you. A few late-night shoppers wandered the aisles, their footsteps quick and quiet. You two, however, were a whirlwind of chaos.

You immediately lined in for the snack aisle, while Lando—naturally—dashed off to the drink section, presumably for his endless supply of energy drinks.

You grabbed a bag of chips and stared at the labels, debating between your usual choice or something more adventurous. Suddenly, Lando appeared next to you, his basket full of neon-colored cans.

“Seriously?” You asked, eyeing his choice of drinks—five different kinds of energy drinks, none of which were remotely good for a person.

“What?” He shrugged, grinning. “I need my fuel. I don’t know how you live without these.”

“I’m more concerned about how your insides haven’t exploded yet.” You glanced at his cart again and shook your head. “You’re going to rot your teeth with this crap.”

Lando laughed, tossing a can of the brightest energy drink into his cart. “I’m fine. This stuff keeps me going. It’s your snacks that I’m worried about.” He grabbed your bag of chips and held it up, his face twisted in mock disgust. “See, this is why no one dates you.” 

You snatched the chips back, pointing at his basket with a dramatic sigh. “And this is why you’re single, you muppet. Candy and caffeine? Really?”

He looked at the kinder chocolates in his cart and then back at you, eyes narrowing. “Hey, I can’t help it if I like a little sugar rush now and then.”

“Sure, because we all know sugar rushes are the key to true love.” You replied sarcastically.

You both continued down the aisles, and before you knew it, you had found yourselves near the instant food section, where an impromptu race had begun. 

Lando, looked at you with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Race me to the candy aisle.” He challenged, grinning brightly.

“You’re on.” You replied with a smug smile on your face.

A blur of movement and laughter followed as you both sped down the aisles, dodging random items and barely avoiding a collision with a display of cereal boxes. You both nearly lost control a few times, but you managed to get into the candy aisle. You could hear Lando laughing behind you, the sound louder than your own heart pounding in your chest.

“Too slow!” You yelled, looking over your shoulder and laughing, feeling a rush of freedom you hadn’t expected. 

But just as you were about to win, you swerved too sharply, bumping into a shelf with your arm. Packs of gum and chocolate bars cascaded onto the floor in a loud crash. You let out a loud gasp as your hand flew to your mouth in shock.

“Nice one.” Lando teased, stopping beside you. He was giggling and you stood there, caught between wanting to be mad and laughing with him. “I’m blaming you for this.” You said. 

“Of course you are.” He teased you.

“But you know I won, right?” You added, raising your eyebrow at him, “I don’t think that counts when you caused a mini disaster.”

You both spent the next few minutes putting everything back in place, much to the amusement of the other customers in the store. 

Finally, you made your way to the checkout counter, where the middle-aged, woman cashier gave you both a disbelieving look as she scanned your wildly mismatched purchases.

“Is this your dinner?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not sure what we’re having yet, but we’ll figure it out.” Lando replied smoothly, grinning at you. You rolled your eyes at him. “At least we’ll have fun while we starve.” He added.

After the chaotic trip to the store, you were both exhausted, but the laughter still lingered. The cool evening air was refreshing as you walked home, each of you carrying a bag full of questionable snack choices. Every now and then, your hands brushed, but neither of you said anything about it.

“See?” Lando started, glancing at you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He sent you a bright grin.

You smiled, a little breathless from the adrenaline. “It was a disaster, but I’ll admit, it was fun.”

He glanced at you sideways, his grin softening. “Well, next time, I’ll win the race.”

“Oh, please. You cheated.”

“Can’t blame me for taking advantage of your terrible operating skills.” Lando said with a wink. 

You laughed, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“But you like it.” He added, nudging you back. 

And suddenly, the air between you shifted. The easy banter was still there, but now it felt heavier, like something unspoken was hanging in the silence. You both stopped walking, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

It was Lando who broke the quiet, his voice softer than usual. “You’re the best part of my day, you know that?”

You blinked, your heart giving an unexpected leap in your chest. “I— what?”

“Just saying.” He chirped, smiling brightly but there was something vulnerable in his eyes now.

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. It felt like everything had changed, but you didn’t know how.

Before you could say anything, he nudged you with his shoulder again, snapping you back to reality. “Anyway, time for our questionable snacks.”

You laughed again, trying to push down the rising feelings inside you. “Yeah, yeah. Lead the way.” You said as you both strolled to your apartment.

────୨ৎ────

Lando kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket onto the couch, walking into his apartment, but it didn’t feel like home tonight. The place was too quiet, too still. His thoughts were loud, buzzing like an electric current through his mind, and he couldn’t seem to shut them off.

He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his face with both hands. His mind kept wandering back to the day with you, your lesson at the cafe, the grocery store, the spontaneous shopping race, and hanging out at your place while eating the snacks you bought. 

The way you laughed at him, how easy it was to be around you, and how, for some reason, he found himself feeling… more than just amused.

The smile on your face earlier that day—genuine and warm—kept replaying in his mind, over and over. And he hated it. It was ridiculous how a simple smile, something so normal, could make his stomach twist in a way that left him more confused than he’d ever been.

He glanced at his phone. No messages. But then a notification popped up from no one other than you. You’d sent him a message after he’d dropped you off.

You:

thanks for today, Lan

i had fun

even though you’re a cheating dickhead :p

Lando smiled at the screen like a teenager in love, but quickly slapped his face, trying to stabilize his facial expression. Even though he was alone, it felt a little absurd to smile over a text. But that was from you. You always knew how to make him feel something, even in the smallest moments.

His fingers hovered over the screen. He had a million things he could say—some sarcastic, some teasing, some that maybe he really wanted to say. But he chose the simplest one, the kind of response that still had a little bit of that playful energy between the two of you.

Lando:

you’re welcome, sweetheart

glad i could teach you another lesson today

let me know when you’re ready to graduate to full-on grocery shopping ;)

It was light, harmless, but he felt a small jolt in his chest after sending it, like he was waiting for something. For what? He wasn’t sure.

He leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The silence of the room almost felt suffocating. He didn’t know what to make of this… whatever it was that was happening between you two.

He liked you—he knew that, and it wasn’t just because you’ve known each other since primary school, made him laugh or challenged him. It was deeper than that, wasn’t it? 

He didn’t want to admit it, but it felt like you’d somehow slipped into the space in his life where no one else had been allowed.

It was annoying, really. Why was it so hard to admit? Why was he so afraid of what it meant?

Just as he thought about getting up and going to freshen up, his phone buzzed again. 

You:

i’ll keep that in mind lol

btw, thanks for another lesson

He laughed softly to himself, biting back a smile. You were always so quick with your words, so playful. It made everything seem… easier.

For a moment, he let the conversation sit there, letting the words linger in his mind. He felt something stirring—something different—but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Something that maybe had been there for a while, but that he hadn’t noticed until now. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been choosing not to notice it.

And then, as though his brain couldn’t stop itself, his mind wandered back to those stupid moments from today—your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you’d teased him during the lesson. The way his chest tightened when he caught your hand brushing against his while cleaning up the shelf, even if it was just for a second. The way he couldn’t stop thinking about how natural it all felt, how right it felt to be with you.

But you were still just his friend, right?

He sighed, glancing at his phone again, watching the screen go dark as the conversation faded. It was nothing. Nothing more than a friendship. Nothing more than today, anyway.

Lando stood up abruptly and walked over to his kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. But the second he opened the fridge, he froze.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel about all of this. And it was driving him mad. Maybe it was just because you were such a huge part of his life—maybe it was just that. Maybe the little jokes, the constant teasing, the weird way he found himself thinking about you all the time. It was all just normal to him.

But the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more the doubt crept in. He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, leaning against the door of the fridge, gripping the bottle tightly in his hand. 

He’d been so determined not to let anything change, to keep this whole thing casual, lighthearted. But now? Now he wasn’t sure what it was anymore.

Lando took a long drink from the bottle and shook his head. He needed to stop. He needed to focus on something else—anything else. He needed to stop thi.

Oh, but it didn’t stop. The question lingered like an itch he couldn’t scratch. What was this?

He grabbed his phone again, thumb hovering over the screen, and then deleted the text he was about to send you. What could he even say? The words wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he just needed to sleep on it. Maybe tomorrow would make everything clearer.

Or maybe, deep down, he knew exactly what this was, but he wasn’t ready to face it yet.

────୨ৎ────

After a few weeks of playful lessons, things had been going surprisingly well. Lando’s tips—however smugly delivered—seemed to make sense, and you’d actually started to feel more confident. So, when a cute guy from a bookshop asked you out, you decided to test the waters without telling Lando.

Now, standing in front of him as he stared at you with narrowed eyes, you regretted not mentioning it.

“Wait— you what?” He asked, his voice sharp.

You winced at him. “I went on a date. Just to see if your advice was actually working.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His usual teasing grin was gone, replaced by something tense and unreadable. “So, let me get this straight—you didn’t trust the lessons, and you went behind my back to… fact-check me?”

You frowned. “No, Lando. I wasn’t questioning you or your advice. I just wanted to— I don’t know, see if I could actually do this.”

His eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped slightly. “And? Did it work?” He asked nonchalantly.

You hesitated, suddenly unsure why you felt guilty. “Well… yeah, actually. He said I seemed confident and easy to talk to.”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Glad I could help you land another date.”

You blinked, confused by his sudden bitterness. “Why are you being so weird about this? Isn’t this exactly what we were doing? You teach me, I try it out. What’s the big deal?”

He sighed deeply while looking away to the side. His jaw was tight, his arms still crossed.

“The big deal,” He said, his voice low, “Is that I thought this was about us working on something together, not you taking what I gave you and— ...and running off with it like it doesn’t matter.”

Your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. “But it does matter! I wouldn’t have done half as well without you and your help. I just didn’t think I needed to check in with you before trying it out. ”

Lando scoffed, looking away as if to gather his thoughts. Then, almost too quietly, he muttered, “It’s not about the lessons.”

You froze. “What?”

He ran a hand over his face, frustrated. “Nah, never mind.”

“No, Lando. What do you mean it’s not about the lessons?” You pressed, stepping closer.

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before darting away. “It’s just… I didn’t think you’d actually go out with someone else, alright? Not after—” He cut himself off, biting the inside of his cheek.

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “Not after what?”

He let out a long breath, finally looking at you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and something softer. “Not after this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you.

You stared at him, confused and a little breathless. But then it struck you. “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not jealous.” He shot back quickly, but his tone betrayed him.

Your lips twitched into a smirk. “You’re totally jealous, Lando.”

“You’re missing the point!” He snapped, getting up from the chair, his frustration rising. But then he paused, realizing how close he was to you, and his voice softened. “I just— I thought maybe…” He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, and suddenly the air between you felt impossibly heavy.

“Thought what?” You whispered, your heart racing. 

Lando hesitated for a moment too long, then shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

But you knew it did matter. And now, for the first time, you were starting to understand why.

────୨ৎ────

You were standing in front of Lando’s apartment door, feeling strangely nervous for a reason you couldn’t quite place. Sure, you were used to the lessons by now—playful banter, lighthearted mockery, the usual. But today felt different. 

It had been weeks since that conversation where Lando seemed to hint at something deeper, and even though neither of you had addressed it directly, you felt the weight of it every time you saw him.

Your hand hovered over the doorbell, and just before you could press it, the door swung open, revealing Lando standing there, a small, knowing smirk on his face.

“Look who’s here early.” He teased, but there was something almost warm in his tone. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him. “Let’s just get this over with.” You muttered, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You seem tense. That’s new. I thought we were past the awkward stage by now.”

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, keeping the mood light. “Maybe it’s because your lessons are starting to feel like a bad rom-com.”

Lando chuckled, leading you to the living room. “I told you I was a genius. Just wait. You’ll thank me when you’re out there with some hot guy and you’re getting all the attention.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your stomach fluttered, imagining what it would feel like to actually be seen like that. Confident, poised, able to captivate someone’s attention.

“Alright,” Lando said, suddenly more serious. He turned to face you, his posture shifting as he adopted a more intense, focused air. “Today’s lesson is about vulnerability.”

“Vulnerability?” You blinked as you repeated, trying to sound nonchalant, but you could already feel the walls in your chest start to rise. “Isn’t that a bit heavy for a lesson about dating?”

Lando nodded, his eyes serious now. “It’s important, though. People can sense when you’re holding back, when you’re not being real with them. If you want something deeper than just a casual fling, you need to be willing to be vulnerable. Not just with them—but with yourself.”

You stood still, his words sinking in slowly. This felt like it was crossing a line into something deeper, something far more personal. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it, and yet, a part of you knew that you had to be.

“Fine.” You said, trying to sound confident even as you felt the already said vulnerability creeping up inside you. “What do we do? Cry in a circle? Share our deepest fears?” You asked as you said on the floor, in front of the couch.

He sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body. It made the air between you crackle with tension, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of everything. His scent. His proximity. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long on you.

“Simple,” Lando replied, his voice dropping a little lower. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and this time—no dodging, no deflecting. Just be honest, okay?” He questioned to which you replied with a soft nod.

Lando was silent for a moment, as if picking his words carefully. “What’s something about yourself you don’t let other people see? Something you’ve been hiding because you’re scared to show it?”

You froze. You hadn’t expected a question like that. There were so many things you kept buried deep—things you didn’t even like to think about, let alone talk about with anyone.

“I—” You faltered, not sure how to answer. “I don’t know. Maybe… I guess I keep everyone at arm’s length. I don’t let anyone get too close.”

Lando’s eyes softened, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to read you in a way no one else ever had. “Why do you do that?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Because… I don’t want to get hurt. If I let someone in too far, I know they could leave. I’ve seen it happen before.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just nodded, as if taking in everything you had just said. 

Then, his voice was quieter, almost gentle. “I get that. But you know, if you don’t let anyone close, you’ll never know what it’s like to have someone who truly cares. To experience something real.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, and you felt your heart race, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was almost like you could hear your own fear in the way he spoke, and the vulnerability you had tried to guard so carefully was slowly cracking open.

You looked at him, your eyes locking, and for the first time in weeks, there was no joking, no playful teasing. Just raw, unspoken understanding.

Lando’s gaze softened, “Alright, second question. What’s your biggest relationship fear?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t ready for this. You thought the first question was hard, but this actually hit too close to home. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Guess he really wanted to make you feel vulnerable.

Lando’s gaze softened as he leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. His casual demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension that seemed to have settled between you two. 

You shifted uncomfortably under his stare, feeling the weight of his question hanging in the air.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice coaxing but still playful. “Trust me,” He teased, leaning a bit too close. “You’ve learned enough already to get by, now I want to know, what’s your biggest relationship fear?”

You hesitated, your mind spinning with the potential answers. Could you really tell him? Could you really let him see this side of you?

The weight of his gaze made your stomach tighten, and you instinctively looked away. Your throat tightened as the words got stuck. But Lando was persistent, his tone softening as he urged you on.

“C’mon, don’t hold back on me, alright?” He smiled, though there was an edge of concern beneath the teasing.

You sighed, feeling the vulnerability slip through your defenses like a crack in a dam. The question was simple, but it dug deeper than you expected. 

Your biggest fear? It wasn’t the fear of being alone, or of having bad dates, or of not being good enough. It was something much more raw.

You turned your gaze to the window, as if the quiet night outside could offer you some comfort.“I’m afraid of being too much,” You said softly, barely above a whisper. “Too loud, too emotional, too difficult to handle. I think that sometimes people get overwhelmed by me, and I always end up pushing them away without meaning to.”

The confession hung in the air, a weight you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying. You nervously fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding Lando’s gaze. You didn’t want to see his judgment, didn’t want to see pity.

But then, you heard him move. His presence shifted beside you, and you blinked in surprise when you felt the light pressure of his hand on your thigh, where he gave you a small squeeze.

“Hey,” His voice was quieter, almost tender. “That’s not something to be ashamed of. Being a lot, or feeling deeply, doesn’t make you any less worthy of love. It makes you real.”

You swallowed hard, and finally dared to meet his eyes. There was no judgment there, no pity—just a quiet understanding that you weren’t sure you deserved.

“And I can assure you, you’re not the only one.” He said softly, his hand still resting on your arm, the warmth of it grounding you. “Tell me something I don’t know. I’m usually too much for some people. And I’ve got my own stuff I keep hidden too. Things I’m scared of showing because they might make people leave.”

You frowned, glancing at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lando smirked but there was something in his eyes—a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “Guess we’re both pretty good at pretending everything’s fine, huh?”

His honesty was a jarring contrast to his usual banter. You felt a flutter in your chest, your emotions swirling, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was saying more than he was letting on. But the moment was fragile, so you held onto it—this quiet, raw connection that seemed to be growing between you two..

But then, before either of you could say anything more, there was a loud knock at the door, and the moment shattered. You both pulled back almost instinctively, like the world had shifted around you, leaving you both caught in the silence that followed.

“Right on cue.” He muttered, standing quickly and walking to the door.

You took a few moments to compose yourself, trying to shake off the rawness of the conversation, but it lingered like a storm cloud between you both.

As the door opened, Max stepped in, cans of beer in his hands while grinning. He glanced between you and Lando, his eyes flickered in curiosity, sensing the tension in the air but not quite understanding it.

“Did I interrupt something?” Max asked, his tone playful but a little teasing.

You gave him a tight smile, shaking your head. “No, you’re good. I was just heading out.”

Max raised an eyebrow, obviously skeptical, but he didn’t press the matter further. He nodded and flashed a quick smile at you. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you two to it. Catch you later.”

You nodded, muttering a quick goodbye to both of them before walking toward the door. Lando stood by the entrance, watching you go with a guarded expression, but something in his eyes—something soft, something unspoken—made your heart flutter, and you almost felt like turning back. But you didn’t.

You left his apartment, stepping out into the cool night air, the streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. As you walked, your thoughts raced.

What had just happened?

Your heart still thudded loudly in your chest, your mind replaying the vulnerable words you’d both shared. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Lando—how close he had been, how it felt like you were on the verge of something monumental, but then it all had been pulled away so abruptly. 

You wanted to understand it, but it was like trying to grasp smoke with your bare hands. You were certain you had just glimpsed something real between you—something that you both hadn’t acknowledged yet—but what was it?

Your steps slowed as you walked, the cool air biting at your skin, the questions swirling in your head. Why did it feel like something had shifted between you two? You weren’t sure, but you couldn’t deny the feeling that there was something more there. Something that was suddenly too real to ignore.

Was it the way his voice softened when he talked about his struggles? Or maybe it was the way his eyes had stayed on you for just a moment too long before the interruption of Max? You shook your head. It wasn’t that simple. But what if it was?

You reached your apartment building, your feet carrying you without much thought as you tried to put the evening into perspective. It wasn’t just the lessons anymore. It was about him. Lando.

You walked into your building and up the stairs, but all you could think about was that moment, when everything had nearly cracked open between you two.

What now?

────୨ৎ────

It had already been three months since Lando started these “dating lessons.” At first, you hated every moment of it. The early mornings, the awkward tips on what to say, the forced banter that seemed like it was straight out of some romance movie. You had thought the whole thing was ridiculous, a waste of time. 

You never signed up to learn how to date—it was just supposed to be you figuring it out. But now? Well, now it was different. You found yourself looking forward to it. The lessons didn’t feel like lessons anymore, they felt like moments spent with him. 

Lando’s sarcasm was easier to swallow, his teasing was less annoying, and you found yourself actually learning—not just about dating, but about the person you were becoming with each interaction.

The lessons had evolved from mere exercises in how to behave on a date to something more. There was the grocery store adventure where you both raced around the aisles, the heated debates about the best snack brands, the quiet nights spent in his apartment watching movies where you’d catch yourself laughing too hard at his jokes.

And then there was the way he had started to look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—the moments when his hand brushed against yours, the small smiles that lingered longer than usual. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between his casual insults and your joking comebacks, something had shifted.

You found yourself wanting him more and more. Wanting to be around him, laugh with him, touch him. But you couldn’t tell him that, could you? You were supposed to be learning, not falling for him.

The night before, you’d spent hours talking in his kitchen over a takeout, sharing a bottle of wine. The banter was still there, but it was different. There was an electricity in the air, a tension that neither of you seemed to want to acknowledge. You laughed, but there was something softer about the way you looked at each other now.

Tonight, your group of friends decided to hit the club and chill out together.

The night was electric as you entered the club with your friends. The music thumped in your chest, the bright lights flashing in time with the beat, and the laughter of your group filled the air as you made your way to the VIP section. 

Alex was by your side, pulling you along, while Lando and Charles were chatting up with the staff, trying to get the best spot. Carlos and Rebecca were already ahead, eagerly chatting with the bartender about the best drinks of the night.

You were dressed up to the nines—a bold, black dress that hugged your figure just right, makeup that added to your confidence, and heels that made you feel like you were walking on air.

Every movement was self-assured, purposeful, but underneath it all, you felt the familiar flutter of nerves. It was a big night—your first real night out since those dating lessons with Lando, and small practice blind dates after deciding later with Lando that it was, indeed, practical.

You caught a glimpse of Lando in the crowd, looking effortlessly cool in a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and his signature smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. But as you locked eyes for a moment, something shifted between you. He stared for just a beat too long, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too. His gaze darkened with something unreadable, something that made your heart skip.

The club was alive with energy, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Lando was watching you—really watching you. Every time you moved through the crowd, you felt his eyes follow your every step, and you knew it wasn’t just about the way you looked. His gaze was intense, and you couldn’t tell if he was angry or just… interested.

As the night wore on, Alex and you had mingled with the others, having fun, drinking, laughing, and meeting new people. You felt the buzz of alcohol loosening your usual inhibitions, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but still feel Lando’s presence, like an electric current running through the air. Every now and then, you’d catch him looking your way—his jaw tight, lips pressed together, as if he was holding something back.

One guy, a charming stranger with a cocky grin, approached you while you were chatting with Alex. He made some casual comment about your dress, a compliment that felt a little too insistent for your liking. You tried to brush him off politely, but he was persistent. And that’s when you saw it. Lando’s posture stiffened from across the room. His jaw clenched as he observed the whole exchange. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was a raw, protective energy that you couldn’t ignore.

Your heart raced in your chest. Why was this affecting you so much? Lando was just a friend, and the alcohol in your veins was making you feel about this differently. That’s all. But the way he was looking at you— no, the way he was staring, it made you feel things you weren’t prepared for.

“Hey, are you alright?” Alex asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“Yeah, just… a little tired,” You said quickly, waving it off. “Let’s just get another round, yeah?” You suggested, trying to shake away the thoughts of a certain, aquamarine eyed man.

The night continued, the drinks flowed freely, and you eventually found yourself standing in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by the heat of the crowd. Lando had suddenly joined you, and as if it was all part of some unspoken plan, he pulled you closer, hand at the small of your back. Your breath hitched as he led you into the rhythm, the music pulsing around you like the beating of a shared heart.

The chemistry between you was undeniable, and on the dance floor, it felt like everything fell away. All you could feel was him. His movements were fluid, confident, and his hands—oh, his hands. They were occupying your waist, guiding you, but also holding you in a way that felt almost intimate.

Your body swayed against his with the music, each movement a little more daring than the last, a little more intimate. The space between you two closed, and suddenly, it wasn’t just dancing anymore—it was something much, much more. Every subtle shift of his body, every moment when he pressed a little closer, felt like a promise. Your chest brushed against his with every step, the air between you electric.

Lando’s lips were close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re really good at this, sweetheart,” He murmured, his voice rough, as though he was struggling to keep himself composed. “I don’t remember teaching you this.”

You tilted your head back, catching his gaze, and you were met with something that made your stomach flutter. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and you could see the flicker of something unsaid in them. 

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid lower down your back, pulling you even closer. The music swirled around you, but in that moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heart racing.

“I’m just following your lead.” You whispered back, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. But your voice betrayed you, breaking just a little as you felt a rush of heat flood through you.

Lando’s grip tightened, his hand now resting against the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing the soft skin just below your ribcage. He was so close. Your lips were inches apart, your breath mingling in the small gap between you. You could feel the heat of his body, the tension that was growing, pulling you in. It felt like an inevitable pull, like everything had been leading to this moment.

But just as you leaned in, as your lips were just about to meet, a loud voice cut through the noise of the club.

“Hey! Another round of shots, guys!” Carlos yelled from across the dance floor, completely oblivious to the burning tension that had just built between you and Lando.

Both of you froze, stepping back slightly, your heart thundering in your chest. Lando cleared his throat awkwardly, giving you a half-smile, but his eyes couldn’t hide the frustration, the want that had been building just moments ago.

“Yeah— shots. Right.” He muttered, still catching his breath.

You felt the cold air hit your face as the space between you widened. The magic of the moment shattered, leaving an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.

As you both made your way back to the group, there was an unspoken tension between you, thick and unresolved. Your thoughts were a mess, and it felt like your body was still alive with the electricity of that almost-kiss. But now, as you rejoined the others, it was as though nothing had happened. 

You both put on your masks—smiles, laughter, easy banter. But underneath, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was left unsaid and undone.

────୨ৎ────

The late afternoon sun streamed into the cozy living room of Alex and Charles’ apartment, casting warm hues over the array of half-empty snack bowls and scattered magazines. 

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a fuzzy blanket draped over your lap, while Alex leaned against the armrest, gently stroking Leo who slept next to her. 

Charles was out for work related things, and Lando was thank God busy hanging out with his friends from Quadrant. That left a perfect opportunity for both of you to finally meet and for you to escape from him.

Hanging out with Alex was so comfortable and effortless for you. She was a great friend, and you always felt like you didn’t have to pretend to be someone you weren’t when you were with her. Laughter filled the room as the two of you gossiped about everything and nothing.

“I’m telling you, the barista at that café definitely has a thing for Charles,” Alex said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “She’s been giving him extra foam hearts in his coffee for weeks now. As if she doesn’t know he’s already taken.” She added chuckling at the end.

You laughed, holding a cup of tea. “Please, and he probably thinks it’s just good customer service.”

Alex snorted. “God, you’re so right. That man’s clueless unless it’s about racing, Leo or what tie matches his suit.”

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with Alex. It wasn’t until there was a lull that she glanced at you with a curious tilt of her head.

“So… how are things going with Lando?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you froze. Did she know about what happened in the club? Or what have you two been doing recently?

Memories of the lessons, the banter, and the night at the club with almost kissing each other flashed through your mind. You had to stop yourself from blurting it all out then and there. Instead, you swallowed hard, forcing a casual smile.

“Oh, you know,” You said, waving a hand dismissively. “Same as always. He’s still… Lando.”

You skipped the detail that since the night out, you two haven’t hung out or had your lesson yet. You barely texted each other, the unspoken words and tension from that memorable night still vivid in your minds.

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “And the dates? How’s the whole ‘finding the one’ thing going?”

You scrambled for an answer, laughing nervously as you tried to keep your cool. “Oh, still terrible. Absolute disasters every time. Honestly, it’s like a bad rom-com at this point.”

Alex laughed, thankfully buying your excuse. She reached for a piece of chocolate from the coffee table and popped it into her mouth. “Well, maybe that’s about to change.” She suggested, a sly smile spreading across her face.

You furrowed your brow, tilting your head. “What do you mean?” You asked, taking a sip of your tea.

“Joshua,” She said, leaning closer as though she was letting you in on a secret. “He’s coming to Monaco in a month.”

“Joshua?” You asked, the name unfamiliar.

“My lifelong friend,” Alex explained, her excitement bubbling over. “He’s absolutely lovely. Smart, funny, sweet, and charming. Basically, the perfect guy you could’ve thought of. I’ve always thought he and you might hit it off.” 

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably at her words, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “Oh,” You blurted out, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s— nice.”

“Nice? Are you kidding me?” Alex said, sitting up straighter while also watching out not to wake up Leo. “He’s perfect for you. And he’s single. I’ll introduce you when he gets here.”

You hesitated, feeling a strange heaviness settle over you. “I don’t know, Alex…”

“Come on!” She urged, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “What’s the worst that could happen? One date, just one. And if it’s a disaster, I’ll never bring it up again. But I really think you’ll like him.”

After a moment of silence, you sighed, relenting under her hopeful gaze. “Alright, fine. One date.”

Alex clapped her hands, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes! You won’t regret this, I promise. Joshua is amazing.”

You laughed lightly, but as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, a nagging feeling lingered in your chest. The thought of going on a date with someone new felt… strange. Unsettling. You told yourself it was just nerves, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the image of a certain someone’s lopsided grin and teasing eyes.

As Alex continued to talk, you found yourself half-listening, your thoughts drifting elsewhere. 

What would Lando think about this? Would he even care?

The uneasy feeling in your stomach didn’t fade, and as Alex’s laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but wonder if agreeing to the date was a mistake.

────୨ৎ────

The warm night air was thick with tension as you leaned against the hood of Lando’s McLaren, the Monaco skyline stretching out behind you in a sea of glittering lights. 

This was supposed to be just another lesson, but something had shifted between you. Every touch, every lingering look—it all felt heavier, like you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

Lando stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation. He was always so confident, so sure of himself, but tonight there was an unspoken weight in the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Alright,” He finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. “Tonight’s lesson is about the end of date scenarios. The big moment—to kiss or not to kiss.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words. “Haven’t we already covered this? Or are you just using this as an excuse to make me feel awkward again?”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Awkwardness is part of the process. Trust me, it builds character.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Teach me, Norris.”

Lando stepped closer, leaning against the car next to you. The air between you grew charged, the familiar push-and-pull of your dynamic shifting into something more.

“Okay,” He said, his voice dropping slightly. “Picture this—the end of a date. You’ve had a good time, he’s dropping you off, and you’re standing there wondering if he’s going to make a move. What do you do?”

“I don’t know,” You replied honestly, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Wait for him to do something, I guess.”

Lando made a sound of a wrong buzzer with his mouth, “Wrong,” He said, shaking his head. “You don’t wait. You take control, muppet. If you want to kiss him, you make it happen.”

You hesitated, the memory of the club flashing through your mind. The way his hands had gripped your waist as you danced together, the heat of his breath against your ear, the way his eyes had burned into yours like there was no one else in the room. 

You’d been so close—too close—and yet, something had pulled you apart before it could happen.

Lando must have noticed the way your expression shifted because his tone softened. “Hey,” he said gently, leaning in slightly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” You lied, forcing a smile. “Just trying to keep up with your endless wisdom.”

He studied your face for a moment, then tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Alright, let’s see if you’ve actually been paying attention. Lean in like you mean it. Show me that you’re not afraid to go for what you want.”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his body just inches from yours. He raised a hand, lightly brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Eye contact,” He reminded you softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t break it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as your eyes locked with his. The memory of the club resurfaced again—how close you’d been to kissing him, how much you’d wanted it. And now, standing here under the Monaco sky, it felt like history was repeating itself.

“Lan...” You uttered, your voice trembling slightly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. The air between you was electric, every inch of your skin buzzing with anticipation.

“I need to tell you something.” You mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Lando hummed in question, his eyes still locked on yours.

And then, like a splash of cold water, you blurted out, “Alex is setting me up with her friend. Apparently, he’s perfect and coming to Monaco in a month.”

Lando froze, his hand dropping back to his side. He stepped back a little. The tension between you shattered, replaced by a strange, almost palpable stillness.

“Perfect?” He repeated, his tone sharp. “That’s a strong word. What makes him so perfect?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual, though you felt the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. “I don’t know, but Alex seems convinced. She’s been hyping him up.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, and he let out a mocking laugh. “Oh... great. Another guy with a glowing resume. Does he like long walks on the beach, too?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound felt more nervous than amused. “Why are you being so weird about this? It’s not just any date, Lan,” You continued, your voice a little quieter now. “Alex practically thinks he’s my soulmate.”

Lando forced a laugh, but it didn’t sound genuine. “Sounds like your soulmate’s got a packed calendar if you had to book him a month out.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep it light. “He’s flying in from New York, okay? It’s not like I picked this date on purpose.”

Lando’s expression darkened even further, and his gaze flickered toward the ground. He shifted on his feet, a frown tugging at his lips. “You really think this guy’s perfect, huh?”

You nodded, though you couldn’t quite explain why you weren’t sure about it yourself. “I mean— I guess we’ll see.” You fiddled with your hands, stress creeping in.

His voice was low, almost bitter. “Whatever. Hope Alex’s golden boy doesn’t disappoint.”

You blinked, shocked by the sudden shift in his tone. His words stung, more than you expected. Before you could respond, he turned toward the car, his shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

“Lesson’s over.” He muttered, not looking back as he opened the car door and got inside.

You stood there, still by the hood of the McLaren, staring after him. Your chest felt tight, your mind spinning with confusion and something else you couldn’t quite identify. 

Something had shifted between you tonight—something that felt like it couldn’t be undone. You had no idea where this was heading, but for the first time, you were afraid that the lessons weren’t just about dating anymore

They were about something more.

And you didn’t know if you were ready to face it.

With a sigh, you came up to the car door and got in the car. Lando didn’t even bat an eye at you, driving away with a screech of the tires.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phone when it buzzed with a call. Alex’s name lit up on the screen, and you hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hi Alex.” You said, tucking the phone between your shoulder and ear as you adjusted your blanket.

“Hi girl, what’s up?” Alex’s cheery voice greeted you, the familiar sound instantly making you smile.

“Not much. Just a quiet night in.” You replied, settling back into the cushions.

“Perfect timing then,” Alex said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Guess who asked about you again?”

You already knew who she was talking about, but you feigned ignorance. “Umm, Leo?”

Alex laughed. “Not even close. Joshua! I showed him your Instagram, by the way.”

“You what?” You asked, sitting up slightly, startled.

“Relax,” Alex reassured you. “He said you’re even prettier than I described. Which, by the way, is saying a lot because I hyped you up a lot.” Her warm laugh echoed in your phone.

Your stomach did a small flip, but you forced a faint smile, even though Alex couldn’t see it. “That’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” Alex teased. “That’s all you’ve got to say? This guy is a total catch, you know. And he’s so excited to meet you. I’m telling you, he’s perfect for you.”

You let out a small laugh, hoping it masked the unease creeping in. “You’ve got your matchmaking hat on full-time now, huh?”

“I’m just saying,” Alex replied, her tone softening. “You’re not freaking out, are you? He’s seriously a great guy.”

“No, I’m fine,” You lied, trying to sound more certain than you felt. “Just… a lot going on, you know?”

There was a pause on Alex’s end, then a softer tone. “Hey, if you’re nervous, that’s okay. But trust me, Josh is worth it. You don’t have to rush into anything, but I think you’ll really like him.”

You exhaled, leaning your head back against the couch. “Thanks, Alex. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Alex said, and you could practically hear her smile. “We’ll talk more soon, okay? Just wanted to check in.”

“Alright. Thanks for calling.” You replied.

As the call ended, you placed your phone down and stared at the ceiling. Alex’s words hung heavy in the air. Joshua was great—you had no reason to doubt that. But as much as you wanted to feel excited, all you felt was… unsettled.

Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to someone else entirely. Someone who wasn’t always perfect in the ways Alex described but who somehow felt more real, more right. 

And that thought only made your chest tighten as you sat there, wondering why everything felt so much more complicated than it needed to be.

────୨ৎ────

Your date was almost knocking at your door, as another weeks went by.

You hadn’t heard from Lando all day, and that alone was enough to have your mind racing. It wasn’t like him to go silent without a reason, especially after a night out in a club. He'd usually send you a “i'm home” text, yet this time—nothing.

You had tried texting and calling, but there had been no reply. You could feel your concern growing, a gnawing feeling settling in your stomach. So, without a second thought, you grabbed your jacket and headed to his place.

You knew where he kept the spare key. He had told you once when you’d been joking about breaking in if he ever locked himself out. You hadn’t expected to actually use it, but tonight, something in you told you that you needed to check on him.

When you arrived at his apartment, you grabbed the key from its usual hiding spot under the small flower pot near the door. It was a small moment of normalcy, but it made your heart beat a little faster. 

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, immediately sensing the quiet. “Lan?” You called softly, your voice echoing through the empty hallway. No answer. 

You moved through the apartment, calling his name again, but it was only when you reached the living room that you found him. He was laying on the couch, eyes closed. His face was flushed, and the faint smell of alcohol hung in the air. It was clear that he’d had more than a few drinks.

“Lando?” You asked again, this time more urgently as you stepped closer.

He didn’t respond, and for a moment, panic flickered in your chest. You rushed to his side, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.

“Mhm?” His voice was barely a whisper, and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking as though the light bothered him. His gaze focused on you, a weak, hazy smile tugging at his lips.

“Hi,” He mumbled, his words slurring a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried. You haven’t replied to any of my texts for the whole day,” You answered, kneeling down in front of him to get a better look at his face. “How much did you drink?”

Lando waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine.” He replied to your question, but the way he swayed slightly as he sat made it clear he wasn’t.

“Right,” You said with a forced smile, trying not to sound too concerned. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You moved to help him, but Lando suddenly swatted your hands away, blinking up at you in frustration. “I don’t need your help.” He grumbled. His words were hard to understand as his speech slurred, but you could tell he was stubborn even in his drunken state.

“You can barely stand, you muppet,” You said, trying to hide the irritation in your voice. “Let me help.”

But he shook his head, his voice bitter. “Why does it even matter? You don’t care, not like that.”

His words took you by surprise. “What are you talking about?” You asked, trying to steady him.

He looked at you, eyes unfocused, and let out a bitter laugh. “You’re just here to check on me because you have to. You don’t really care. You’ve got a date coming up, right?”

You paused, taken aback by his words. “Lando, you’re drunk. This isn’t—”

“Sure,” He interrupted, his tone harsh. “I’m drunk, so it doesn’t matter, right? It’s fine. But I don’t want you to go.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stayed quiet, your mind racing. This wasn’t like him—he was normally so teasing, so sarcastic. But right now, there was something raw and vulnerable in his voice. It was like the alcohol had loosened something inside him that he kept hidden.

You helped him stand, gently guiding him to his bedroom. He didn’t resist this time, but as you helped him onto the bed, his gaze stayed locked on you.

“Why are you doing this?” Lando asked suddenly, his voice weak and tired. He wasn’t fully coherent, but there was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten.

You hesitated for a second. The question threw you off guard. You were just trying to make sure he was okay, weren’t you?

“Because you’re my best friend,” You said after a beat, hoping the answer would be enough. “And I care about you.”

Lando studied your face for a moment, as if trying to understand your answer, before giving you a tired, half-smiling nod. His eyes started to flutter closed, but not before he muttered, “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. But then, just before he drifted off, his voice came again, quieter, almost like a whisper.

“You’re always looking out for me but... I just don’t want to lose you.”

You froze.

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you stood there, staring at him as his breath evened out and he fell asleep. Your heart raced in your chest, confusion swirling in your mind. What did he mean by that?

You quietly turned to leave, but as you closed the door behind you, you felt a strange heaviness in your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about Lando’s words, but you quickly shook your head.

No, it didn’t mean anything. He was drunk. It was just a slip of the tongue.

You pulled out your phone, glancing at the message from Joshua about your date. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted. You had a date. A very good date. And you had a plan.

But even as you walked back to your own apartment, the words from Lando lingered in your mind.

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

You tried to push the thought away, but it wouldn’t leave.

────୨ৎ────

The morning light pierced through the blinds, casting an almost painful brightness across Lando’s apartment. 

His head throbbed in protest as he slowly opened his eyes, the remnants of last night’s alcohol still lingering in his system. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow, trying to drown out the faint, nagging voice in his head. The bed felt colder than it had before, and there was an emptiness in his chest that he couldn’t shake.

He dragged himself up, rubbing his temples and trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the night. The drinks, the loud music, the laughter with his friends and other unknown girls. And then you. You had shown up, of course. You were always there when he needed you. But… something had happened.

His breath hitched as a flash of the night’s conversation resurfaced—your voice, soft and distant, asking why he was being like this. His own words echoed in his mind, although they sounded different now, like a stranger had said them.

I just don’t want to lose you.

He couldn’t remember exactly what else he’d said, but he could feel the weight of it, like it had been too much to bear. Why had he said that?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the memory of your shocked expression. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, but now, sober and humiliated, he wanted to crawl under the blankets and disappear.

Lando took a deep breath and stood up, pacing around his apartment, trying to get his bearings. He couldn’t let that mess be the thing that defined him. He’d always been in control, and now was no different. Besides, you were probably already over it.

There was no point in worrying about it. Not when he had other things to focus on. Like the fact that you were going on a date soon. With Joshua.

The name felt like a punch in the gut. His stomach twisted, and he quickly pushed the thought away. Focus, Lando. He needed to act normal. He was always calm, collected. He wasn’t going to let his feelings mess things up.

When he texted you, it was simple, his usual teasing tone, though underneath it, there was a tension that only he could feel.

Lando:

you still alive after last night or did police arrest you for breaking into someone’s apartment?

The reply came quickly, as expected.

You:

haha, you wish.

still alive after taking care of someone’s stupid ass who was being an emotional mess

guess that’s what friends are for lmao

His thumb hovered over the phone screen for a moment. Emotional mess. He hated how true that was. He was an emotional mess, especially when it came to you. But you had a date with Joshua coming up, and he couldn’t let it show. He couldn’t let it ruin the dynamic between you two. Not when things had been going so well between you.

Lando pushed his phone aside and took a quick shower to clear his head. When he was done, he put on his usual grin and got to work, focusing on anything that would take his mind off what was coming. He needed to get back to his usual self. The confident, carefree guy who never let anything get to him.

But then you sent him a message about meeting up for your next lesson, and his stomach sank again. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He was already wound tight, and now, the pressure was building even more.

When you arrived at his place, there was a brief but noticeable pause before you greeted him. It was subtle, but Lando caught it. He tried to push the lingering anxiety aside—keep it cool.

You gave him a quick smile, but there was something else in your eyes. A certain hesitance that hadn’t been there before. The lessons had been going well, so why the change in energy?

“You alright?” He asked, trying to sound casual as he leaned against the counter.

You nodded but didn’t look at him fully. “Yeah. Just… a lot going on.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. A lot going on? The words struck a nerve. Of course, you were thinking about Joshua. 

He swallowed hard, not letting it show. “You’re still planning on going on that date, right?” The words escaped before he could stop them, and as soon as they did, he regretted it.

You glanced at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

He shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “No reason. Just wondering if you were still sticking to it.”

You gave him a look, like you knew something was off. But you didn’t push. Instead, you cleared your throat and moved to the couch, sitting down as if to signal that the lesson was about to begin. Lando tried to focus, but all he could think about was the date.

What if Joshua was the guy you were supposed to be with? What if he was the one who could give you everything Lando couldn’t?

The thought gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake it. You had told him that you weren’t sure about Joshua, but deep down, Lando knew that if you were really unsure, you wouldn’t be going at all.

“Alright, today’s lesson is all about instincts,” He started, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. “I want you to stop thinking so much. Trust yourself. Sometimes, you just need to listen to your gut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been trying to do that. But sometimes my gut says the wrong thing.”

Lando chuckled softly, his gaze briefly softening. “I get that. But on a date? You can’t overthink everything. You need to trust what feels right in the moment. You are capable of doing that, you know?”

You bit your lip, a little uncertain. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just freeze, or I say the wrong thing and everything feels awkward.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes intense. “That’s the thing. Everyone feels that way. The best thing you can do is not let that fear control you. You can’t let your mind take over. Focus on how you feel in the moment and act on it.”

You swallowed, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or something else. “But what if— what if it’s the wrong feeling?” You asked, hesitating.

Lando’s gaze softened as he took a step closer to you, his voice quieter. “There’s no such thing as the ‘wrong’ feeling, not in the beginning. You just have to go with it. Be in the moment.”

The air between you seemed to thicken, and you suddenly realized how close he was. You could feel his warmth, his breath even, and it made your heart race. 

Lando’s eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment before quickly meeting your gaze. “You’ve been so careful with everything. But sometimes, you have to stop being careful and just… feel.”

You looked down at your hands, unsure of what to say. The lesson was starting to feel different—more personal, more intense than usual.

“Tell me,” Lando started, his voice now lower, “When you’re on a date with... Joshua, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”

You took a deep breath, feeling a little nervous. “I— I don’t know. Maybe just let myself relax? Be myself?”

Lando nodded slowly, almost as if thinking about something, before meeting your gaze again. “That’s a good start. Trust yourself, and don’t second guess yourself. You’ve got everything you need.”

His words were grounding, but they also felt like a weight on your chest. For a second, you could almost imagine being with someone else, letting go of all the doubts you’d held onto for so long.

You stood up suddenly, feeling antsy. “I— I think I get it. Thanks, Lan.”

Lando watched you, but something flickered behind his eyes. “You’re welcome,” He replied quietly, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment too long. “But remember, it’s more about trusting yourself than anything else.”

Before you could respond, Lando’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and sighed, like he was already distracted by whatever it was.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, a feeling that you weren’t sure you understood. Why did the thought of him not being there for you—for this—suddenly feel so heavy?

“Alright,” You said, forcing a smile, “I think that’s enough for today.” You turned to leave, but as you reached the door, Lando’s voice stopped you.

“Hey,” He said, standing up. “One last thing. If you get nervous, or if things start to feel like they’re going wrong, just take a moment and breathe. Don’t let anyone rush you. You’ll know what’s right when you feel it.”

You smiled faintly, nodding. “Got it. Thanks again, Lan.”

As you left his apartment, you couldn’t help but replay his words in your head. Trust yourself. Was it really that simple?

But then, a thought flashed through your mind. What if you trusted him instead?

And just like that, the confusion was back. But you pushed it down. 

After all, you were preparing for that date with Joshua, and that was what mattered, right?

────୨ৎ────

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection as a wave of panic rolled over you. Your dress was.. perfect. It hugged your curves perfectly, fitting you like a glove. Your makeup was flawless, the jewelry you picked was immaculate, and yet you felt completely and utterly wrong.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, constantly reminding you about how close you were from the time where you had to leave for your date with Joshua. Each passing second made your breathing feel more shallow. 

You grabbed your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, notifications, anything to distract yourself. But the one notification you were hoping for—a message from Lando—was nowhere to be found.

“Stop it,” You muttered under your breath. “You’re fine. You’re fine.”

Okay, the pep talk didn’t help. You weren’t, indeed, fine.

Without thinking, you opened your chat with him and fired off a quick message.

You:

omfg

i’m freaking the fuck out

can you call me?

please

Your phone buzzed almost immediately. Of course.

You swiped the incoming call from Lando to answer, and put the phone to your ear. “I can’t do this.” You didn’t even bother to greet him. 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” He said, his voice teasing but warm. “Now, let’s take a deep breath and tell me— what’s going on?”

“Lan, I feel sick,” You said, emphasizing the last word as you were pacing around the room. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. This is so stupid. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” He replied, his tone softening. “You’re just nervous. It’s normal before a date you’re looking forward to.”

“But it doesn’t feel normal,” You muttered, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Well, don’t,” He chuckled lightly. “That’d be a bad first impression, and as far as I remember I didn’t teach you to do that.”

You groaned, throwing yourself on the bed. “Lando, this isn’t funny.”

“Okay, okay,” He snickered, and you could hear the slight shuffle of movement on his end. “Look, it’s just a date. You’re not marrying the guy tonight, are you?”

“That’s not helping!” You snapped, straightening quickly on the bed.

“Alright, let’s try this,” He said, his voice taking on the calm, steady tone he always used when you were on the verge of losing it. “You’ve been on the practice dates before, yeah?”

“Yeah, because of you!”

Even when you couldn’t see him now, you knew he rolled his eyes humorously at you. “And how did those go?” You hesitated, before finally answering, “Fine.”

“Exactly. “You’re a pro now, sweetheart.” He laughed on the other side of the call. 

“Lan,” You mumbled, your voice dropping into something almost pleading. “What if I mess this up? What if he hates me?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough to make you wonder if he was still there. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “He’s not going to hate you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He said, his tone firm. “Because you’re funny, you’re smart, and beautiful. If this guy can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You blinked, his words settling over you like a soft blanket. Your heart twisted in your chest, a pang of something unnameable making it hard to breathe.

“You really think that?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I know that,” He replied, and for a moment, his usual teasing edge was gone.

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and you had to turn away from the mirror to keep from crying.

“Okay,” You said, exhaling shakily. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s my girl,” He giggled, his tone lighter now. “And hey, think of it as a test. See if all those lessons I gave you paid off.” Lando added.

“Right,” You said, though your chest felt heavier at his words. “The lessons.”

“Well, this might be the last one.” He added softly, and something about the way he said it made your stomach drop.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” He replied quickly. “Just… you know, if it goes well with Joshua, you won’t need me anymore, right?”

Your heart clenched painfully, but you forced a laugh. “Yeah... no pressure, then.”

“Exactly,” He said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Now go knock his socks off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “Thanks, Lan.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He replied, and you hung up before you could change your mind.

As you stared at your reflection again, you felt a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. His words were supposed to calm you, and they did—sort of. But the idea of this being the last “lesson” you’d ever have with Lando felt like a loss you weren’t ready to face.

────୨ৎ────

You stepped out of the cab in front of the restaurant you both decided to meet at, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. The air was crispy against your bare legs, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cobblestone street, and the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air.

Joshua was already waiting by the entrance, looking effortlessly put-together in a black, unbuttoned shirt with black pants. He spotted you almost immediately and waved with a bright smile, his easy charm already on display.

“Hey!” He said as you approached, his warm, inviting tone doing little to calm your nerves.

“Hi.” You replied, forcing a smile as you adjusted the strap of your bag.

Your name rolled out of his mouth smoothly, “You look amazing.” He said, his eyes flicking over your outfit appreciatively.

“Thanks.” You murmured, heat already rising to your cheeks.

He held the door open for you, and you stepped inside, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filling the cozy, upscale restaurant. The hostess led you to a small table by the window, where the view of theMonaco’s harbor sparkled under the moonlight. 

It was romantic, picturesque—the kind of setting that should have made your heart flutter.

But it didn’t.

Joshua was polite, funny, and attentive, just as Alex had promised. He asked you about your work, your favorite travel destinations, even your guilty-pleasure movies. He laughed at your jokes, nodded along to your stories, and seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say.

And yet, your mind kept drifting.

As he talked about his plans to sail around the Greek islands next summer, you found yourself thinking about how Lando always teased you about your terrible sense of direction. When Joshua laughed at a joke you made, you couldn’t help but compare it to Lando’s laugh—the one that was louder, freer, and always made you laugh harder. And when Joshua leaned in slightly, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for his glass, your stomach twisted, not in excitement, but in unease.

You excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to breathe. The second you stepped inside, you leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

“What is wrong with me?” You whispered to yourself.

Joshua was perfect. Objectively, undeniably perfect. So why did you feel so… empty?

You closed your eyes, gripping the edge of the sink as memories of Lando flooded your mind. His voice, his smile, the way he always knew how to pull you out of your head and make you laugh. The way he’d given so much of himself to help you. The way he looked at you sometimes—like you were the only person in the room.

Your eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. It wasn’t Joshua. It wasn’t the date. It was you, and Lando had been right all along. It was always about you. But it wasn’t the way you’d thought. The problem wasn’t that you were bad at dating or incapable of having normal dates with someone. The problem was that you’d been blind to what you really wanted.

And what you wanted wasn’t here. It was him.

You washed your hands in cold water, trying to push the irritating thoughts away and compose yourself before heading back to the table.

“Everything okay?” Joshua asked, his expression kind but concerned.

“Yeah.” You said, forcing a smile as you sat back down.

Joshua quickly launched into another story—something about a hilarious misunderstanding during a work trip—but you barely heard him. Every word he said was drowned out by the realization that had taken root in your chest, growing stronger with every passing second.

When the bill came, Joshua insisted on paying, and you didn’t argue. As he walked you outside, the cool night air hit you like a wake-up call.

“I had a really great time tonight,” He said, his smile genuine. “You’re incredible.”

“Thank you,” You replied, and you meant it. “You’re really great too.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

Your heart sank, but you wanted to say yes. You wanted to want to say yes. But the words just wouldn’t come for you.

Instead, you smiled sadly. “I— I’ll think about it.”

Joshua seemed to understand, his smile dimming slightly but still warm. “Now let me give you a ride back home. Shall we?” He insisted, leading the way to his car.

As Joshua opened the door for you, you got into the car quickly, sinking in the passenger seat. Your eyes wandered outside the window, observing the couples that still sat in the restaurant. They looked so happy together, and someone might have thought the same while staring at Joshua and you a few moments ago. But deep down you knew that you were far from being happy now.

────୨ৎ────

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and the bright neon sign behind him. Max’s voice came through the headset, lighthearted and teasing as always, but Lando could barely hear him. His hand gripped the computer mouse, and the other hand was focused on the keyboard, yet his movements were sluggish, half-hearted.

“Lando, mate, what are you doing?” Max’s exasperated tone broke through the haze. “You’re playing like a grandpa. Are you even trying?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando muttered, forcing himself to focus on the screen. But the truth was, he wasn’t trying. He couldn’t concentrate.

Because all he could think about was you.

You on that date. With him.

The thought made his stomach churn, a bitter taste settling at the back of his throat. He hadn’t been able to stop picturing it since the moment you’d left. You, in that dress, looking absolutely stunning. You laughing at some joke that wasn’t his. You leaning in, your attention fully on someone else.

“Lando?” Max’s voice came again, a mix of confusion and concern now.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lando said quickly, clearing his throat. “I’m just tired, man. Think I’m gonna call it a day.”

“Already?” Max sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, I’m knackered,” Lando lied, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Catch you later.”

“Alright,” Max said after a pause. “But get some sleep, okay? You’ve been weird all night.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye chat.” Lando mumbled, saying goodbye to Max’s chat. He has never shut down the game and logged off so quickly in his entire life.

The silence that followed was deafening. He leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall against the headrest as he stared at the ceiling.

You were still out. On the date. And he had no idea how it was going.

Was he good enough for you? The question gnawed at him, sharp and relentless. Was he making you laugh? Was he listening to you the way he always did? Did you feel comfortable with him, safe? Did you feel… happy?

Lando squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms against them as if that could stop the flood of thoughts.

He’d seen your nervous smile as you managed to send him videos of the outfit you chose before you left. He noticed how excited you were before the date, how your eyes sparkled with nervous anticipation. You’d been so worried, so unsure, but he’d reassured you. Told you it would be fine. Told you that Joshua would be lucky to have you.

What you didn’t know was that those words now tasted like ash in his mouth. Because he didn’t want Joshua to have you. He wanted you to stay. With him.

Lando let out a shaky breath. He dragged a hand through his curls, tugging at the roots in frustration. The memory of the night he’d gotten drunk hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d tried to bury it, pretend it didn’t matter, but the truth was, it had been eating him alive.

“I don’t want you to go.” He’d said, the words slurred but raw, his heart on his sleeve for once.

You’d stayed quiet, brushing it aside as drunken nonsense. But it hadn’t been nonsense. It had been the truth, stripped bare and vulnerable in a way he’d never been before. However, he let you believe that, because admitting it outright, while sober, was terrifying.

But it was true. Lando didn’t want you to go. He didn’t want you to meet someone else, fall for someone else, leave him behind. Because the thought of you choosing someone else when he loved you—truly loved you—was unbearable.

His chest ached, the pain sharp and suffocating. It might already be too late. 

Maybe you’d come back tonight, smiling and giddy, and tell him how great Joshua was. How perfect the date had been. The thought made him want to throw something. Instead, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, as if he could push the feelings away, but it didn’t work. It never worked.

Because the truth was, he’d been falling for you for months. Years even.

He remembered every laugh, every smile, every quiet moment you shared as kids, as teenagers at school, and now between lessons where the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. He remembered the way your nose scrunched up when you were concentrating, the way you teased him when he got flustered, the way you always seemed to bring light into every room you entered.

You were perfect for him. 

But you didn’t know. And maybe you never would.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping him out of his spiral. His heart leapt, hope surging through him. “Maybe it’s her,” He thought. “Maybe she’s texting to say the date didn’t go well. Maybe—”

He grabbed the phone, the screen lighting up.

It wasn’t you.

The breath he’d been holding escaped in a rush, his shoulders sagging as disappointment washed over him. He tossed the phone back onto the bed, raking a hand through his hair again.

The silence of the room felt suffocating now. He thought about calling Max back, telling him he felt better now and distracting himself with another game, but he knew it wouldn’t help. His mind was a storm, and you were at the center of it.

He lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his chest heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled hopes.

He was losing you. And he had no one to blame but himself.

────୨ৎ────

The door of Joshua’s car clicked shut as he drove away, leaving you standing alone in the dim glow of the streetlights outside your house. You watched his car until it disappeared around the corner, your mind buzzing but your heart strangely still.

He’d been sweet, funny, and attentive, just as Alex had promised. Everything about the date had gone smoothly—on paper, it was perfect. So why did you feel so… hollow?

The thought of stepping into your empty house felt unbearable, the silence inside too heavy for the chaos in your chest. Your feet moved before your mind caught up, leading you down the familiar streets of Monaco. Stumbling a few times, you took your heels off, cursing them under your nose. The brisk night air bit at your skin, but you hardly noticed.

You didn’t know where you were going until you found yourself standing in the small park near the water. A bench beneath an old tree caught your eye—the same bench where one of your first “lessons” with Lando had taken place. You sank down onto it, the memory washing over you with startling clarity.

You could almost hear his voice, teasing and full of life. “See, you can’t just talk about yourself on a date. Ask questions, keep it balanced, like a tennis match.”

You’d laughed so hard that day, mostly at how earnestly he mimed playing tennis in front of you. The image played in your mind now, vivid and bright, and before you could stop yourself, your chest tightened, and tears welled up in your eyes.

Why did thinking about him hurt so much?

Your hands clenched in your lap as the memories kept coming, unstoppable and relentless. The way he smiled when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he spoke to you with that stupid nickname–sweetheart. The way he always had just the right thing to say when you doubted yourself. His endless patience, his unwavering presence.

And his laugh—God, his laugh. The one that echoed in your mind now, making your tears spill over as you realized with horrifying clarity that you’d heard it more times than you could count, but never enough.

You pressed your hand to your chest, as if it could steady the ache inside. How had you been so blind?

All this time, you’d been searching for someone who made you feel seen, heard, and valued. Someone who challenged you but still made you feel safe. Someone who gave a damn about you in ways you hadn’t even noticed until now. It had been right in front of you all along.

Lando. Your Lan.

The tears came harder now, unstoppable and unrelenting, as your mind replayed every moment with him like a cruel, beautiful montage. Every smile, every lingering glance, every sarcastic comment that hid something deeper. He’d been there for you, every step of the way, sacrificing his time and energy to teach you how to love—how to date—without once showing how much it must have hurt him.

You wiped at your eyes, but it was useless. Your heart felt like it was breaking open and healing all at once.

You had to tell him.

The thought hit you like a jolt of electricity. Sitting here, drowning in memories, wasn’t going to change anything. You couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep lying to yourself.

Lando deserved to know the truth. You deserved the truth.

You stood abruptly, the sudden movement making your head spin. Your legs carried you out of the park and back toward the streets, your pace quickening with every step.

What were you going to say? You didn’t know yet. All you knew was that you couldn’t keep this inside any longer.

────୨ৎ────

The night was unnervingly quiet as you stood at Lando’s door, the hum of the distant city muffled by your pounding heartbeat. Your fingers hovered over the wood before you finally knocked, your stomach churning with anxiety.

It took a moment, but when the door opened, Lando stood there, his expression unreadable, his eyes flickering with a hint of surprise and something else—something guarded.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice rough.

“I needed to talk to you.” You replied, your voice trembling despite your best effort to sound confident. You stepped inside, your heels, that you wore on before knocking on his door, clicking softly against the floor as you passed him.

He shut the door behind you, leaning against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s late,” He said flatly. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with Joshua? What, did the date end early?”

You flinched at his tone, biting back the sharp retort bubbling at the tip of your tongue. “Lando, please—”

“No, go ahead,” He interrupted, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me everything. All about how perfect he was. I’m dying to hear it.”

Your patience snapped. “Why do you do this?” You demanded, looking him deeply in the eyes.

“Do what?” He shot back, his jaw tightening.

“This!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air. “You get all moody and sarcastic and— ugh, you don’t even listen to me, Lando!”

“Oh, I am listening,” He countered, his voice rising slightly. “You’re the one who barged in here looking all… flustered, expecting me to what? Clap and cheer because your perfect little date didn’t work out the way you wanted?”

“God, you’re impossible!” You said, taking a step closer. “Do you really think I’m here to talk about him? Do you really think I’d come here, in the middle of the night, just to—”

“Well, then why are you here?” He demanded, his voice cutting through the room.

“Because it wasn’t perfect, okay?” You shouted, your voice cracking. “Because it didn’t feel right! Because the entire time, all I could think about was… you.” The hesitation before saying the last word made you want to cry again.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, reverberating between you. His sharp expression softened, his mouth parting slightly as he stared at you, completely stunned.”

“What?” Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. He couldn’t believe his own ears. You felt your chest tighten, a mix of anger, heartbreak, and longing overwhelming you. 

“It wasn’t about Joshua—it never was. It was always about you, Lando. Your stupid ass. Your lessons, your dumb pep talks, your stupid jokes, the way you acted so fine with me going out with someone else when you clearly weren’t.” Your words caught in your throat, but you pushed forward, the weight of it all crashing down on you. 

“It’s you, Lando. It’s always been you. Ever since we were little.”

His face softened in an instant, the tension in his jaw melting away, replaced by a vulnerability you rarely saw in him. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, searched yours, as though he was afraid to trust what he was hearing.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. 

His hands hung at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching, as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

“God, yes,” You blurted out, stepping closer to him. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. “I’m serious, muppet. And I know it’s a mess, and I know I probably ruined everything, but—”

Before you could finish, his hands were on you, his fingers trembling as they cupped your face. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could take another breath, he closed the distance between you and kissed you.

His lips pressed against yours with a fervor that made your knees go weak. It was desperate and raw, filled with all the tension, emotions, and unspoken words that had been simmering between you for weeks. His lips moved against yours with urgency, as though he’d been holding back for far too long, and now that the floodgates were open, there was no stopping it. 

Lando’s thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away tears you hadn’t even realized were falling, and you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Your hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as if letting go wasn’t an option. You could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat under your palms, matching the wild rhythm of your own. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him, losing yourself in the moment.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Lando’s forehead rested against yours. His hands still gently cradled your face as though he was afraid you might disappear. Lando’s breath was ragged, his lips red and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes were glassy with unshed tears, looking at you as you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered, his voice cracking. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve said something before... before all of this. But I was terrified—of losing you, and of screwing everything up.”

You shook your head, your hands sliding up to cup his face in return. “No, Lan. I should’ve seen it, I should’ve known.”

His lips quirked into a small, trembling smile, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, a mixture of relief and disbelief shining in them.

“And you didn’t ruin anything, sweetheart,” He murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “You never could. You’re— you’re my everything.” He uttered softly.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he leaned in to kiss it away, his lips lingering on your skin as though trying to memorize the moment.

“Are you really crying?” He teased softly, his voice shaky but warm.

You let out a choked laugh, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not. Shut up.”

“Liar,” He murmured, his smile widening as he kissed you again but softer this time. “But you must’ve cried before since your eyes and nose are red.” 

You smacked his chest lightly, heat rising to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it’s cute.” He said with a grin, though his voice was still thick with emotion.

You tried to glare at him, but the look on his face—the mix of relief, affection, and something deeper—made it impossible to stay mad. Instead, you found yourself laughing softly, leaning into him as the tension finally began to disappear.

“You’re such an idiot.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Takes one to know one.” He teased, his voice soft but warm.

You both stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of weeks of tension and unspoken feelings finally lifting. 

It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t neat, but it was yours. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

────୨ৎ────

The soft glow of early morning sunlight poured through the blinds, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The light touched everything—the sleek lines of Lando’s apartment, the scattered clothes on the floor from last night, and most notably, the two of you tangled in the bed.

You blinked awake, the slow pull of consciousness drawing you from sleep. For a moment, you couldn’t quite remember where you were, but then the warmth next to you, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the steady rhythm of his breath made everything clear.

Lando was lying beside you, his face relaxed in sleep, his curls framing his features in the softest, most endearing way. Sunlight rested over his face, kissing his skin, highlighting the sharpness of his jawline and the curve of his lips. 

It was unreal—this scene, this moment, the peacefulness of it all.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling in your chest. You were finally here. Finally with him.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, just watching him, savoring the moment, drinking in the fact that you were in this space with him. This was what you’d always wanted. And now that you were here, you didn’t want it to end.

The way his eyelids fluttered as he stirred slowly, bringing him out of his dreams, sent a jolt through your heart. His eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the light. His expression softened, and when his gaze met yours, his lips quirked into that familiar, lazy grin.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He muttered, voice rough with sleep. 

You just smiled, leaning in closer, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. “Hi.” You replied, voice barely a whisper, as if you were afraid speaking too loudly would ruin this moment.

His eyes sparkled with the slightest hint of mischief, and he stretched, rolling his shoulder. “I think I could stay here forever,” He said, his voice a little husky. “But we’re supposed to be at Charles’ in a couple of hours for lunch, remember?”

You frowned, suddenly feeling the pressure of the real world creeping in. “Ugh, yeah. Charles and the whole group. It’s like I can already hear the chatter about how we’ve been hiding this whole thing.”

He smirked, looking at you with a mixture of fondness and amusement. “I don’t mind.” He said casually, rubbing your shoulder. “But we should get up soon, don’t you think?”

But as soon as the words left his lips, something inside you shifted. You weren’t ready to leave this bed, not yet. Not when everything between you felt so new, so fragile, like a dream that could slip away any moment. Without thinking, you moved swiftly, swinging a leg over him, straddling his waist, your hands coming to rest on his bare chest as you looked down at him, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

His eyes widened in surprise, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. “What are you—?”

“Hi.” You whispered softly, the power of your position making his pulse race.

“Hi.” He whispered back, biting his lower lip.

His eyes scanned your face, the mix of confusion and amusement in his gaze quickly shifting to something more heated. “You’ve lost it, haven’t you?” He murmured, still a bit flustered from the sudden shift. 

His hands instinctively went to your bare hips, but he didn’t push you off. Instead, he looked up at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly caught off guard but not entirely unhappy about it.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in, closing the space between you, and kissed him. It wasn’t slow or gentle—it was a kiss full of heat and desire, reminding you about your last night. The distant memory of your soft gasps, shared moans and hot kisses flooded your both heads.

The world seemed to fall away as you lost yourselves in the kiss. His hands roamed to your bare back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you were a breathless mess, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you finally pulled away, the quiet of the room seemed almost too loud. You stayed close, your forehead resting against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Did you even realize how fucking good you look right now?” You muttered, voice husky with the remnants of sleep.

Your gaze roamed over him—the way his curls caught the golden morning light, the relaxed curve of his lips still faintly swollen from your earlier kisses, and the lazy glint in his half-lidded eyes.

Lando blinked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he broke into a quiet laugh, low and rough. “You’ve got a way with words, don’t you, sweetheart?” He teased, his voice thick with sleep. “Or are you just trying to kill me first thing in the morning?”

You shook your head, smiling as you trailed your fingers gently along the line of his jaw, tracing every perfect imperfection of his face. “No games,” You whispered, pressing your palm flat against his chest where his heart beat steadily. “You just look… unreal.”

The weight of your words seemed to catch him off guard. His hands found your bare waist under the tangled sheets, thumbs brushing gently along your sides as his gaze locked onto yours.

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” He said, his voice dipping low. “You’re literally glowing right now, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the flush rising in your cheeks. “Nice try, Norris. But flattery isn’t going to distract me.”

“Oh?” He murmured, the corners of his lips tugging upward in a smirk. “So what’s your plan? Keep staring at me until I melt?”

You grinned, leaning down until your lips were an inch away from his. “Maybe.”

Before he could respond, you kissed him—slow and unhurried, savoring the moment. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until your bare skin was flushed against his, the sheets pooling around your bodies.

When you pulled back, his eyes were darker, his breathing heavier. “Now who’s playing games?” He muttered, a trace of amusement in his tone.

You laughed softly, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m not. I just—” You hesitated, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “I can’t believe this is real. That I’m finally yours, and you’re mine.”

Lando’s expression softened, the teasing edge replaced by something infinitely more tender. “I’ve always been yours, sweetheart,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers trailed up your spine, sending shivers through you. “You just took your sweet time realizing it.”

You laughed, burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide the warmth flooding your cheeks. He smelled like sleep and sunshine mixed with a faint scent of his perfume. You couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the soft spot beneath his jaw.

“I’m never getting out of this bed, am I?” Lando murmured, his voice teasing but laced with an unmistakable truth.

You smiled against his skin, your hands sliding over his shoulders to rest on his chest. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His laugh rumbled against your lips, but when you shifted your hips slightly downwards, his breath hitched. “Careful.” He warned, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as your lips brushed against his ear. “What? Just getting comfortable.”

“Right,” He murmured, his hands gripping your waist more firmly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You kissed him again, this time deeper, slower, letting the quiet morning dissolve into something entirely different. By the time you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, his eyes were locked onto yours with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine.

“We’re never going to make it to breakfast at this rate.” He chuckled, though there was no trace of complaint in his voice.

You grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Who said I’m hungry for food?”

His groan was soft as you slid down his body, his hands tightening their hold on you as the sunlight continued to bathe the room, turning the morning into a memory you’d never forget.

────୨ৎ────

The morning had been perfect—the lingering warmth of your shared kiss, the quiet laughter over breakfast—but now, reality was tugging at you both. 

After the breakfast, Lando quickly freshened up and you both drove to your place as you also needed to get ready. You stood in front of the mirror, applying a final swipe of lipstick, your reflection staring back at you as if in disbelief. How had you gone from nervousness to this moment? How had you gotten here, with Lando, after everything? Lando, on the other hand, had been unusually quiet, his gaze lingering on you as you finished getting ready. When you finally stepped out of the bathroom in the dress you had chosen, the one you knew would turn heads, you saw the way his breath caught in his chest.

“Wow, sweetheart…” He breathed, looking you up and down, his eyes lingering on every part of your body. His expression was a mixture of admiration and something more—something that made your heart beat faster. “You look… absolutely gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at his reaction. It was hard to tell if you were more proud of how stunning you looked or how much he was checking you out.

“Glad you think so.” You replied, your voice teasing as you turned slightly, letting the fabric of the dress swirl around your legs. It wasn’t just any dress. It hugged you in all the right places, the sweetheart neckline drawing attention to your collarbones and the flowy skirt adding an effortless elegance. You knew it would drive him crazy.

Lando stepped forward, walking up behind you and gently brushing your hair away from your neck. He leaned in close, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“You sure we have to go?” He murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I’d rather just stay home and do… other things. With you.”

You chuckled, not able to keep the smile from your lips as you glanced at him in the mirror. “This morning, you were the first one to get ready for that lunch,” You teased, turning to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

He looked at you with a soft, almost desperate expression. “I’m not backing out. But I’d much rather stay here… with you. Alone.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Well, if you don’t want to go, I can always text Joshua. I still haven’t messaged him since yesterday.”

The mention of Joshua’s name was enough to make his jaw tighten. “You’re really going to do that?” He asked, his tone suddenly darker, but there was something undeniably possessive in it.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips as you pulled out your phone. “Well, you know, I never replied—”

Before you could even unlock your phone, Lando was kissing you, hard and fast, pulling you into him with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground as he deepened the kiss.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, you looked at him with a glint of amusement. “Fine,” You muttered, “I guess we’re not texting him.”

Lando gave you a satisfied smile. “That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag. “Let’s get going then, before you change your mind again.”

The drive to Charles’ place was quiet, the tension between you thick with unspoken feelings. As you sat in the passenger seat, you typed out a quick message to Joshua, your fingers moving with a purpose.

You:

Hey Joshua, I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. I really appreciated it, but I don’t think we’ll be able to meet in the future. I wish you the best of luck, and it was very nice to meet you.

You hit send and immediately felt a weight lift off your chest. It was over, and it was a decision you were glad to have made. 

When you two arrived, Lando opened the car door for you, offering you his hand. Before you had time to dwell on the message you sent, you felt his hand gently squeezing yours. You looked over at him, seeing a small, satisfied grin on his face. Lando didn’t say anything, but you could feel his approval.

When you arrived at Charles’ place, the moment the door opened and Rebecca, who was already there, saw you both, her eyes widened. Then, without warning, she screamed, “Oh my God! Finally!”

You and Lando couldn’t help but laugh, sharing a knowing look as you entered the house together, hands still intertwined. As you walked into the living room, everyone was already smiling, congratulating you both with big, happy grins.

Lando leaned in close to your ear as Carlos and Rebecca were busy showering you with congratulations. “I guess this is the part where we’re supposed to pretend we’re not completely obsessed with each other, huh?” He whispered with a teasing grin.

You grinned, squeezing his hand. “If that’s what you think, you’re wrong.”

At some point during the evening, Alex pulled you aside, a sheepish look on her face. Her usual confident energy was replaced with something softer, more apologetic.

“Hey,” She started, shifting awkwardly. “I just wanted to say… I feel kind of bad about the whole Joshua thing. I mean, I was pushing you into that, and now you and Lando—” She gestured vaguely, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you.”

You smiled warmly, shaking your head. “Alex, it’s fine. Really. If anything, it was kind of a wake-up call for me and Lando. We were both so stubborn about admitting how we felt. So, honestly, thank you for that little push. Even if it was unintentional.”

Alex let out a laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay, good, because for a second there, I thought I’d ruined everything.”

“Oh— no, you definitely didn’t,” You reassured her, your smile widening. “If anything, you might’ve saved us from circling each other for another six months.”

She laughed again, louder this time, the tension between you dissolving into lightheartedness. “Well, I’ll take credit for that, then. You two are disgustingly cute, by the way. It’s almost unbearable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You quipped, giving her a playful nudge before heading back toward Lando.

As you approached, he looked up from his conversation with Carlos, his eyes immediately locking onto yours, shining at your sight.

“What were you two talking about?” He asked, his curiosity evident.

“Girl talk,” You said with a smirk, waving off his question. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, but the smile on his face showed he wasn’t really bothered.

“Yep.” You chuckled, leaning in closer and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “And you’re not getting a word out of me.”

Later in the evening, after the buzz of congratulations and teasing from your friends had started to die down, you found yourself standing out on Charles’ balcony. The stars above were faint against the warm glow of Monaco’s city lights, and the air was cool, carrying the faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from inside.

Lando joined you quietly, slipping his arms around your waist from behind. You leaned into him instinctively, your hands resting on his. The weight of his touch felt grounding, comforting.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asked softly, his voice low in your ear.

“Yeah,” You uttered, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Just needed a minute to catch my breath. It’s been a lot tonight.”

He chuckled, his chin resting against your shoulder, hands warm against your waist. “They’re relentless, aren’t they? I don’t think Carlos and Charles will let this go for months. They’ll always try to tease me about it.”

“Same with Rebecca,” You added with a laugh. “She screamed so loudly, I think half the neighborhood heard it.”

He smiled at that, but his expression softened as his gaze lingered on you. “They’re just happy for us,” He said. “I mean— I get it. I’m happy too.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart swell. You turned in his arms to face him, your arms resting lightly against his shoulders.

“Me too,” You murmured, your eyes searching his. The words were right there on the tip of your tongue, and for the first time, you didn’t feel scared to say them. “I love you, Lan.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his touch impossibly gentle.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.” He hid his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent that felt like home for him. 

You let out a shaky laugh, “Why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you?” He countered, grinning against your skin.

“Touché.” You admitted, burying your hand in his soft curls as both of you laughed softly. The sound was light, effortless, and full of relief.

Then, Lando pulled back to look at you again. After giving you a soft smile, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise. 

It wasn’t rushed or heated—it was warm and tender, the kind of kiss that made you feel like you’d finally found home.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, “You’re my everything, you know that?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. “You’re mine too.” You whispered back.

The rest of the night passed in a happy blur. Your friends teased you endlessly, but their smiles were genuine, their excitement contagious. And when it was time to go, Lando’s hand found yours without hesitation, holding it tightly as you said your goodbyes.

As the two of you drove back through the quiet streets of Monaco, a comfortable silence settled between you. Lando reached over, lacing his fingers with yours as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

The day had been perfect, and as you rested your head against his chest when you finally laid in your bed, you couldn’t hold a smile anymore. 

Looking back, it had been a whirlwind—a rollercoaster of emotions, misunderstandings, laughter, and moments so charged you could hardly breathe. 

What started as a series of lessons had turned into something far greater than either of you could have anticipated. It wasn’t perfect, not always smooth, but it was real. Every stolen glance, every near-miss, every argument and heartfelt confession had led you here, to this life you were building together.

And as Lando’s hand rested comfortably over your waist, his warm smile mirroring your own, one thought stood out above the rest.

Lando was right from the beginning—practice makes perfect.

© haniette | 2025, all rights reserved.

reuploads and likes are highly appreciated ♡

[bucketbueckers]

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

She clicks on the dim lamp at her bedside, her eyes returning to your figure when her vision adjusts. She shakes her head like you’re not real, her hands touching your hips, your waist, your breasts covered by the thin material of your top. You’re sure she’s burning this image into her mind forever – you’re doing the same. You may never be able to forget the image of Paige Bueckers hovering above you, eyes wild and gone, messy like you’re already five rounds deep and not just pent up from fucking around in the club.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise – it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

[hexlenx]

Could you do a story where Sergei is tough, but also overprotective of the protagonist, pls?

I love your stories

A/N: ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. I am so glad you requested this because lately I've been obsessed with sergei and have been thinking of a way to make a small fic about his toxic self so you requesting this gave me an idea! Thank you so much anon! It might be a little different from your request though but the tough part as well as overprotectiveness is still there, just more dark themes. I hope you don't mind that though, I just feel like it fits more with his character.

YOU'RE MINE, ALRIGHT? — sergei kravinoff

note: I do not own this man because he owns himself, periodt. This is made purely out of entertainment purposes!

warning!: violence, age-gap, (somewhat) toxic relationship, little blood, swearing, sexual harassment, mentions of death, 18+, and sergei being hot (man is a warning himself) mdni

__________________

You were only taking your nightly stroll in the forest while your lover was in the cabin somewhere in the woods that he made you move in after knowing each other for a while. Your relationship with him was not really ideal but you loved him with all your heart and vice versa.

Your lover might not show it but he cares about you more than he let on. It worried you for quite some time now that maybe you weren't good enough for him, you refused to do such things that he called 'the hunt'. You weren't prepared to do something so unnerving. Surprisingly, he agreed to let you prepare after a bit of arguing and silent treatments of course. Still, you thought that he might leave you because you have never done anything for him other than sit still and be pretty.

But you were so wrong.

Sighing as an owl hoots through the trees and crickets sounding in your surroundings, you now began to walk towards the path to the cabin. You've basically just walked straight from here to there so it wasn't that hard to find your way back.

Noises of leaves crushing alerted you as you walked down the path. Multiple voices sounded from the right side of you but before you could hide, a bright flashlight flickered towards your figure, blinding you.

Hissing a bit from the bright light, you blinked your eyes before your vision focused to four males who looked about a couple years older than you. An ache appeared in your stomach as you felt like you had a bad feeling about the situation.

"Well, well. Look at what we have here." One of the men whistled as his eyes looked at your frame up and down.

"Quite a looker, right?" The other one on his right licked his lips in anticipation.

"Think we could use her for entertainment?" Another one from behind snickered. As if a light bulb appeared on top of their heads, their eyes lit up dangerously making you step back in fear as you heard their conversation.

No, please don't.

"Don't worry, doll. This will only last for the whole night." The man in the middle reassured but it was anything but reassuring. Before you could sprint off, one of them had already grabbed you by the arms, arms tightening around you as you continued to struggle.

Fear was evident in your eyes as tears started to prickle in them. This cannot be happening, you thought. You were a bit far from home so you couldn't scream for your lover because of the distance. You were now sobbing as the men took their time in touching you. Hands ripping off your shirt leaving you in your bra as well as your lover's boxers that you wore since you've used all of yours already.

You could feel their hands groping each part of your body before they finally decided to spread your legs. You were struggling to close it because multiple pair of hands were pinning you down to the ground next to a tall tree.

Sergei, that was the only thing you could think of.

Sergei, my love.

Sergei, please.

Save me.

"SERGEI!" You suddenly screamed out your lover's name making the men flinch from your voice.

"Fucking hell—this bitch is so loud!"

"Scream all you want, love. But no one ain't gonna hear you here." They all laughed as you kept sobbing. Why must this happen? Your bra was long forgotten as you tried to get your hands free but alas you cannot. The man between your legs then lowered his head towards one of your breasts but before he could latch on it a loud thump interrupted them.

"You dare.." A deep voice growled out as the four men stopped what they were doing. They slowly looked up and saw a very muscular man that stalked over them. His eyes glowing in a yellow serpent like color, his forearms hardening, as well as a very dark and murderous look on his face. The man menacingly stalked towards them as the men were quick to scramble up to their feet fixing their clothes before sprinting out.

The man immediately chased them and since all four were running at the same direction, he jumped high and landed in front of them to stop them from escaping.

"You dare to break and enter my forest, not only that.." He continued his words from before. Grabbing one of them by the neck he tossed him to a tree, hard. Making a sickening crack to be heard in the air, causing the others to look at the man in fear.

"You hurt what is mine."

You woke up in a familiar room and the warmth surrounding your from the fireplace. You were confused, weren't you just in the forest taking a nightly stroll while your lover was busy?

Just then your head started to ache as you remembered what happened. You hugged yourself as you now began to sob quietly, you were harassed, sexually to the point that you were ripped off your clothing. It made you feel disgusted with yourself, what would Sergei think of you now?

Footsteps sounded from behind you as you continued to wrap your arms around yourself hoping to shield yourself from the exposure from the world. Hot steaming food was suddenly placed in front of you as you blinked from surprise before looking away, not wanting to consume any food.

"Eat." It was your lover. Sergei plopped down on the spot beside you taking the spoon topped with food from the plate before putting said plate on the drawer beside the bed. He grabbed you by the chin before gently forcing you to look in his direction. This gave you no choice but to eat the food on the spoon he held up.

This continued for a few moments until you finished your food. The silence was deafening and it bothered you but it seems like your lover doesn't see that.

"I'm sorry."

Sergei paused from cleaning up the table before looking at you, confusion evident in his eyes despite his face unchanging.

"O—other men touched me..y—you probably don't want a woman like me a—anymore. I mean, I wouldn't as well.." You coarsed out as tears began to fall from your eyes as you look down in shame. You couldn't look at him in the eyes, you were so ashamed of yourself, hell even disgusted. You felt so dirty as you could still feel those men's hands all over you, tongues licking your neck, fabric tearing away from your skin. It made you feel ill.

Suddenly your face was gently pulled up letting you make eye contact with a pair of dark brown eyes that was in a fixed scowl but if you looked closely, it softened the moment you both made eye contact.

Sergei didn't know how to comfort you as growing up, all he knew was violence. But he did the only thing he knew he could do.

He kissed you.

"I'll make their hands disappear and make you remember mine, instead."

[thecherrypittttttt]

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle

Part 1: here , Part 2: here , Part 3: here , Part 4: You’re here! , Part 5: here

No forgiveness ending: Part 1: here

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don't have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family, Reader x Conner “Kon-El” Kent (romantic.). Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest

TW: Heavy Angst, a lot of crying, abuse in the form of neglect, pregnancy, Reader briefly expresses regret for existing

Theres a beat of silence after your husband came crashing through the window, minus the sound of your own sobs, you’re too overwhelmed to focus on the crash after all you just found out the people who neglected you, apparently they had done it all to protect you. Even when it wasn’t something you asked to be protected from. You missed out on so many things normal families did and now all it did was leave you scarred, untrusting with deep attachment issues and currently sobbing on the floor surrounded by glass that your husband shattered to get to you.

“CONNER?” Yells Tim in pure shock, which finally makes you finally look up and towards the crash. There, Conner Kent, your husband stood. He was clearly in shock, his soulmate who was pregnant with his child is kneeling on the floor, eyes a soft red and face all puffy as tears slip down. Meanwhile his best friend’s family is staring at said soulmate on the floor awkwardly.

When you see him you honestly cry harder, finally you’re not alone surrounded by people who supposedly loved you but someone who did truly care, and wouldn’t go fucking up your life, at least not without asking first.

“Please take me home Conner…” you sob choking on your own words as you stare at him desperately. Hearing you speak snaps him out of his shock, perhaps on autopilot he picks you up, making sure you are shielded away from your family. “Sorry dude, I’ll… text later. Maybe.” He says solemnly speaking to Tim but he still only looks at you. Tim goes to say something but before he can Conner is gone instantly, leaving behind one stunned bat family.

Conner flies through the sky still holding a sobbing you as he gently whispers “hey.. hey, it’s okay I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” in an attempt to soothe you and himself as well.

He knew you were like him, had family issues and weren’t loved quite right. Perhaps that’s how you guys bonded so fast, shared trauma is a powerful bonding agent. But he never knew who exactly they were, he knew you didn’t want to talk about it and he respected that. When he met you, you had your mother’s last name before taking his, so he never even had the slightest idea Bruce Wayne was your father. Also didn’t help Tim never once mentioned your name, unlike the other siblings he’d call by name, Tim referred to you only as “My other sibling.” on the rare occasions he did allude to you existing.

If he could get a headache right now he would, unfortunately(?) due to Kryptonian things he can’t. As he’s flying he thinks briefly before landing at your shared home ‘Damn what the hell is going on.’

You don’t remember what happened the rest of the night when you got home, you only remember continuously sobbing and a worried Conner trying his best to soothe you all for it to fail. It was so bad when Conner put you down on the couch to get you some water, when you tried to stand you just fell to your knees only able to lean on the couch as support, holding onto it like it’ll somehow save you. Perhaps all the suppressed emotions came flooding, a life time of being strong to have it crumble.

the years of watching your supposed siblings hanging out but it almost disbanding when you tried to join,

the months of drawings about your supposed father holding your small hand left unlooked,

the weeks of wondering if maybe you prayed hard enough someone would hug you

and the days of wondering if you would’ve been better off at the orphanage, or better yet never been born at all.

Now suddenly they did it for your sake? All the missed moments? You want to laugh and scream. The irony of thinking it’s better to neglected a child than to tell said child the truth. You feel Conner put a reassuring hand on your back gently rubbing when he hands you the glass of water, you push it away. You just need to cry, not water. He seems to understand putting it to the side on the hard wood floor and instead choosing to be a comforting presence while you cry.

You cry and sob for hours, unable to stop. Even when it slows down enough for Conner to finally get you to drink some water, urge you to change into your pjs because it was close to dawn now and you hadn’t slept a bit, you can still feel the tears rolling down. You think you must’ve passed out from crying because the last thing you remember seeing was Conner’s worried face like he would’ve cried too and now you’re looking at the sunrise peak through the blinds.

You sit up and sit on the edge of the bed looking down you feel dull and empty, like the entire world suddenly decided to drain itself of all joy and leave you with nothing. As you get up you pass the shared floor length mirror, when you look at yourself, all you can think of is how you look like a husk of a person. To be expected, you did go through something emotionally taxing and you did cry a lot so it makes sense your eyes look empty.

You can smell burnt pancakes. It seems Conner is trying to bake again…

As you enter the kitchen you can see the pile of burnt pancakes on a plate he prepared. Conner gives you an awkward smile as he looks at you and the pancakes, “In hindsight it’s a lot different to use heat vision than the stove.” You pause staring at him and then at the pancakes again, he looks nervous before he clarifies “they’re still edible I promise…”

A smile spreads across your face before you begin to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Somehow you laugh so hard it morphs into crying again when you threw your head back in a fit of laughter. Conner’s relieved face at you laughing turns to worry again as he floats over quickly to have you in his arms.

You cry your eyes out into Conner’s shirt as he holds you tight against him. “Hey, it’s okay, we are going to be okay.” Conner says gently rubbing your back supportively.

“I just can’t believe for such a stupid reason they shut me out!” You weep into your hands, the tears almost collecting in your palms as you finally start speaking. “But at the same time I.. I sort of get it? and it’s frustrating because… I don’t know! Cause it feels like now I don’t have the right to complain or just be upset anymore!” You shout frustrated by everything and all the emotions you’re feeling merging together to create one big storm. “Perhaps it’s somehow my fault—“ you mumble softly before you’re cut off by Conner.

Conner grabs you face and makes you look at him before you can finish, his face solemn as he speaks “You have every right to complain, even if they had good fucking intentions it still hurt. And that sucks.” His face scrunches a bit from sadness at frustration. “Don’t say stuff like it’s your fault. It’s not and I won’t let them demean the one good thing I have in my life.” He gently taps the side of your face before sadly smiling at you and your teary eyed face.

You chuckle softly. You want to cry more but you don’t feel like crying when you remember that Conner loves you and even if you don’t have a father or siblings like you wanted, you still have your adoring, handsome, funny, charismatic husband and an adorable child-to-be-born that’ll have your amazing looks and his personality. It may not have been the family you always wanted as a kid but it’s what you want and need now, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, Let’s spend today in bed and order food the entire day.” You say smiling at him your face still feels a bit weird after all that crying.

“Sounds good… but are we not going to eat my pancakes?” He teases

“I love you, but not enough that I’d eat actual ash for you.”

“Oh wow so you don’t love me anymore?” Conner replies clutching his chest dramatically before taking a step back to lean himself the table like he’s dying. To which you roll your eyes.

“Okay that’s NOT what I said. Anyways I’m going to rest in bed, come join after you finished ordering breakfast and being dramatic.” You remarked before you walk away and into the bedroom to wait for him, you knew he wouldn’t be long.

Meanwhile the entire bat fam is FREAKING. Damian is arguing with both Tim and Grayson to which Barbara has to try and break it up, Bruce is sat on the couch (not having moved since last night) covering his face as he tries to ponder where it all went wrong, Stephanie is pacing around anxiously, Alfred is trying to repair the window which was supposedly shatterproof but unfortunately ‘shatterproof’ isn’t a concept that exists for the supers, Jason is shrugging and saying “I told you this would happen.” (He didn’t.) and everyone else is scattered about some watching the argument, trying to brainstorm to a silent brooding Bruce or trying to help fix the window.

Eventually they would all have to begin brainstorming on what to do next, how to repair it all and get you to forgive them. Right now is time for panic.

[robinminustherichard]

Fuck it Friday pt2

BuckTommy Reconciliation | Eddie Critical

UPDATE 5/16 -- this scene has been incorporated into an ongoing fic! Check it out here!

"Eddie isn't your competition."

Tommy blinks, having just gotten grabbed and dragged in-between the 118 & 217 engines, faced with a dust-covered and almost crazed looking Evan. It's not exactly the reunion he had been trying to stop himself from hoping for.

"Uh--" he says, but isn't really sure what to say here.

"What did you say to me, when you picked me up out of that hallway? The night in the lab."

Tommy pretends to think, but he knows without having to. The words have been playing in his head since that night.

"I told you I was there, I told you I was sorry."

Evan nods, eyes wide. He's standing just a half step away from Tommy, breathing just a little labored.

"What else?"

"I said, uh, 'you did everything you could'."

Evan nods, and his gloved hand reaches out for Tommy. Tommy lets him, still confused and trying to keep up.

"Bobby made me leave. He made me leave him to die, and I don't know if I could have gotten off that floor if you didn't come for me."

"Evan--"

"No, please, I need to...I need to say this. I was devastated, and I'm still devastated. And you picked me up, you told me you were there for me. You told me that I did everything I could to save him."

"Of course I did." Tommy says, simply and without exaggeration. "Because you did."

Buck nods seriously, and his expression darkens for a moment.

"I have spent every minute since you put me in an ambulance that night trying to be there for everyone else, like Bobby wanted me to be. I've tried to be okay. And you know what my bes-" Evan's voice cracks, he purses his lips a moment in frustration and grief, "you know what my best friend said? That I was making Bobby's death all about myself. That everyone felt like they don't know how to 'handle' me."

Evan looks gutted at his own words, biting his lip but still looking right at Tommy.

"Eddie was never your competition, Tommy. He never will be. Because he's telling me that I didn't do enough to save Bobby, that I make everything into the tragedy of Evan Buckley."

Tommy feels rage well up within him, hot and volatile. He connects his back roughly with the truck behind him to ground himself and lets Evan finish.

"But you--" Evan says, voice cut down to a whisper, eyes blinking rapidly as they water, "you came and got me. Before that, you came when I called. And I have a hell of a lot to apologize for, but Tommy I have never felt anything like what I feel for you before. If you'll let me, I swear to you that every day I will show you how much you mean to me. How much I love you. I will make sure you never think you have competition again."

Tommy swallows thickly, struck by the speech. Evan patiently waits for him to answer, his cheeks getting more red by the second.

"I'm gonna kick Diaz's ass," Tommy says, squeezing Buck's hand, "and I'm going to kiss the hell out of you."

A smile breaks across Evan's face, and it's beautiful in the dying sunlight around them.

"Not necessarily in that order." Tommy says, and grabs Evan by the turnouts, smashing their lips together in a kiss that's definitely going to get him another talking to if they're caught. He tries to keep it brief enough to avoid that, but Evan makes a disappointed sound that stops him from pulling away completely.

"I love you too," Tommy mumbles against his lips, "of course I do. How could I not?"

Their moment is soundly popped then by Gerrard yelling out "Buckley!", and Tommy sighs before reaching out to straighten Evan's turnouts and get a good look at him. They can't help but smile at each other.

"So," Evan tells him, head tilting and mouth smirking in the way he knows always got exactly what he wanted from Tommy, "what are you doing Saturday?"

Tommy scoffs theatrically but it doesn't get rid of the smile on his face.

"That's my line, Buckley."

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Him (Them)

( So I decided 'fuck it' pitch pearl babyyy, I've seen other people do this ship and decided well why the hell not right. Anyways have fun!)

~

Phantom and his council were finally in the end processes to a peace treaty with Earth,

As years went on from what was once only the USA with their Ecto-Acts got worse. The GIW began opening in other countries without them truly realizing what they were allowing, until the Infinity Realms were at the point of declaring war on all of Earth itself.

The only reason that managed not to happen was because of Phantom finally being able to contact the Justice League and sit them down to have an actual conversation about everything that was going on.

That's where they were right now the world leaders, the 3 founders of the JL , and High King Phantom with his council arguing back and forth the peace treaty.

Phantom turned as one of the men stood up

" And just how are we supposed to truly trust you and yours to not take over or cause harm to our people?"

Others began chiming in, arguing that there was no true guarantee in what Phantom was saying.

Until a voice towards the back called out an idea

" Marriage! To truly unite our worlds in peace King Phantom must marry one of our own!"

Phantom subtly tensed the idea of a loveless marriage to a complete stranger made his core tremble with rage.

He glanced around seeing the looks of the people around him, he saw their greed for his power and status, their point for the marriage would be to control him or at least give them an advantage.

Phantom tuned out the arguing between the JL and the rest.

Thinking of what to say to get out of this situation without risking the treaty.

Snapping back to attention holding back a sharp smirk.

" Gentlemen if what you fear is the safety of your people then do not fret I have protected and saved your people and world since my creation, as for your request of a marriage to unify our world then I have wonderful news for I am already married to one of your people and even have children with him."

Phantom looked at the shocked faces around him, a couple grimacing or frowning at their missed opportunity to have control and access to him by one of their chosen.

A rather stupid man for what else could he be with what he said next.

" Then divorce him and marry someone that we find more suitable!"

Phantom's form distorted around him as he processed what he had just heard.

" Divorce? You wish for me to Divorce my husband, the one who I cherish above all else, the one I have shared my core the very being of myself with. The one who I gave my very being and soul to create our children. The one who is half my being, the one who if not for him we wouldn't be speaking at this moment because it was only his word that kept me from declaring war on your world."

"Make no mistake I do wish for peace between our worlds, many of my people are from this world and would like to continue to stay or visit especially for their loved ones, and I would like that for them without the danger of being hunted and torn apart."

"For if I wished war your planet would not stand a chance for what is a few million of your soldiers compared to my infinite soldiers that only would continue to grow as yours died."

"For him I fought and won against the previous tyrant King for daring to to cause him pain, the very King who only was defeated previously by the combined efforts of the strongest in the Infinite Realms, The very same King I defeated alone."

"So please do continue talking against my husband."

"..."

"What is his name?"

"Danny Fenton."

~

Just an Idea

[paxaz535]

DOUBLE ( DATE ) TROUBLE [sequal]

at this point it’s you with the three of them lmfao

the foursome that you all requested! i hope i did good lolls

★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪

“So…”

You were sitting cross-legged on Jana’s bed, the scent of nail polish hanging in the air as she carefully painted your nails. You looked up at the voice from the doorway—and there she was.

Nika. Beautiful, cocky, completely effortless. Even after three years together, she still made your heart race.

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, trying not to smile too hard. Nika smirked, her eyes dragging over your nails before flicking to your face. She leaned against the doorframe like she owned the place.

Jana didn’t look up as she spoke. “I’m gonna say this now—please keep your horniness out of this room.”

You snorted, already bracing for whatever slick comment Nika had loaded up. Nika raised her hands innocently. “Yes, ma’am.”

But then she slid over to sit beside you, close enough that you felt the warmth of her body. She leaned in, her lips just barely brushing your ear.

“We’re going to another cabin this weekend,” she murmured. “You already know what to do.”

Your heart dropped—in the best way possible. You bit your lip.

She pulled back, the ghost of a smirk on her lips, and stood up with a wink. “Nice nails, by the way,” she added casually before slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Jana glanced at your dazed expression and snorted. “Girl, you are so gone,” she laughed, slipping your hand under the little purple light. “Get it together before I start charging you for emotional labor.”

You let out a shaky breath, already picturing the things you’re gonna do when you arrive.

-

azzi:

dude

they’re at it again

you:

no seriously

nika came in while jana was doing my nails and whispered it to me

like it was a secret mission or something

azzi:

i was doing my hair

i think i messed up a part

because i flinched when paige said “round three” like it was normal

you laughed at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard as your heart thudded once just a little harder.

you:

are you ready?

azzi:

fuck yeah.

-

Azzi was in the middle of packing—again—folding a hoodie when two hands suddenly covered her eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Steph Curry?”

Paige scoffed from behind her and gave Azzi’s head a soft muffing, her palm rubbing through the curls just enough to be annoying. Azzi laughed, already grinning as she turned around and pulled Paige in for a kiss.

Paige melted into it, her hand immediately finding its home at the side of Azzi’s neck, fingers curling just enough to make Azzi sigh. That touch—firm, possessive, gentle in its own way—always got her.

Azzi started to lean into her, one knee rising as if to climb onto Paige’s lap, but she caught herself.

“Mmh—no,” she murmured, pulling back and giving Paige a push to the chest. “We need to stop.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because we haven’t even made it to the cabin yet,” Azzi said, half-laughing, half-scolding. “Calm down, hornball.”

Paige groaned dramatically and flopped onto the bed, arms spread like she was suffering. “You’re impossible.”

Azzi just shook her head and turned back to her suitcase, folding her jeans with a little too much precision.

From the bed, Paige watched her, chin propped on her hand.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.”

Azzi paused, her fingers slowing on the zipper. A blush bloomed across her cheeks as she turned her head to glance back.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smile curling at the edges. “You too, pretty girl.”

-

you:

so who’s bringing the weed

paige:

you bring it

azzi:

yeah ngl

you’re our best bet

nika:

fuck you? i have a good weed man

you:

baby your weed man can’t stay outta jail to save his life

he probably locked up right now

nika:

…

so?

doesn’t change the fact his shit hits

azzi:

nika

just let her bring it

nika disliked this message

azzi:

can me and [ ] be front seat? i wanna drive

you:

yeah i need that aux cord

paige:

hell no

you:

bet you we’re still gonna be in the front tho

azzi:

fr

we just won’t go if we can’t

nika:

bruh

paige:

alright damn 😒

-

The trunk was packed, the cabin location was set, and somehow—somehow—you and Azzi ended up exactly where you said you would be: front seat. Azzi was behind the wheel, one hand casually resting on the top of the wheel, the other tapping her thigh to the beat of the music you were DJing.

Nika and Paige were in the back, visibly annoyed but saying nothing… yet.

“Next time,” Paige muttered, “I’m hiding the damn keys.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Azzi said sweetly, eyes on the road, smirking.

“Besides,” you added, glancing at her, “if you wanted the aux cord that bad, you should’ve claimed it before we even left the dorm.”

Nika scoffed. “You act like your playlists are untouchable.”

“Name one time I played trash.”

“That one random night you put on The Weeknd’s Dawn FM in full. No skips. No warning. It felt like I was in a haunted disco.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Azzi said, laughing. “You did scare me a little with that transition into Gasoline.”

“You’re supposed to appreciate the art,” you defended.

“Mmhm,” Paige said. “Play something we actually like, DJ Trauma Bond.”

You grinned and scrolled through your phone until you found what you were really waiting for. The opening notes of On My Mama by Victoria Monét hit the speakers, and Azzi let out a little “Ooooh yes” under her breath.

Nika, despite herself, nodded along from the back.

“I do look good,” Azzi said, checking herself out in the rearview.

“You do, baby,” Paige muttered, trying to sound unimpressed. “Still mad at you though.”

Azzi blew her a kiss.

“Alright, now I’m mad at all of you,” Nika said. “I’m trapped in the back with no aux, no front seat, and y’all flirting in stereo.”

You turned in your seat with a smug smile. “You’re still high from yesterday’s pre-pack blunt. Relax.”

“She’s mad ‘cause she wasn’t in charge this time,” Paige muttered.

“I am in charge,” Nika shot back.

“You’re in the backseat,” you and Azzi said in perfect unison.

A beat passed. Then laughter filled the car.

It felt good—stupid and warm and full of that dangerous pre-weekend energy, like you were all revving up for something you couldn’t name but definitely wanted.

The car rolled into the gas station lot, bass still bumping as Azzi pulled into a spot way too confidently for someone driving a borrowed SUV.

“Alright,” she said, throwing it in park. “Everyone behave. And by everyone, I mean Nika.”

Nika was already unbuckling. “You act like I can’t be chill in public.”

“You were banned from a gas station for yelling at the beef jerky,” Paige said, deadpan.

“That was once, and they were charging fourteen dollars for a Slim Jim. I was the voice of the people.”

You snorted, pushing open your door. “You’re banned from my aux if you go in there yelling again.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

The four of you filed into the store, sunglasses on, walking like you owned the place. You and Azzi immediately headed for the snacks aisle—eyes on the essentials. Azzi grabbed a family-sized bag of Hot Cheetos and a giant blue Gatorade. You picked up peach rings, Sour Patch Watermelon, and a suspicious-looking breakfast sandwich just because it felt right.

Meanwhile, Nika was eyeing the freezer section like it had done something to her personally.

“Why is every ice cream sandwich here freezer-burned?” she muttered.

“Because it’s a gas station in the middle of nowhere,” Paige answered, already at the counter with a pack of gum, a mini lighter, and a bottle of Smartwater like she was doing light damage only.

Back at the car, the vibe immediately shifted. You and Azzi had the trunk open, sitting on the edge while Azzi unpacked the actual essentials.

“Pre-rolls or blunt wrap?” she asked, holding both up.

“Blunt,” you said immediately. “It’s tradition.”

Paige leaned against the passenger door, squinting at her. “Y’all really about to do this in broad daylight?”

Azzi shrugged. “We’re parked. Who’s gonna stop us? The beef jerky cops?”

Nika took the blunt wrap from you and started rolling, resting it on her knee with practiced ease. “Besides, we’re not lighting it here,” she said. “This is a preparation stop. A strategic pause.”

You popped a peach ring in your mouth, leaning back on your hands. “Also known as stoner foreplay.”

Paige snorted, but she was smiling.

Azzi nudged you. “Front seat still ours, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Then this is a win all around,” she said, already stuffing the snacks back into the bag with one hand while holding the half-rolled blunt with the other.

Nika finished the roll, sealed it with a flick of her tongue, and held it up like a trophy. “We’re gonna smoke so dumb at that cabin.”

“You’re gonna be dumb at that cabin,” Paige said, sliding into the car.

“Can’t wait,” Nika grinned.

-

The SUV creaked as it turned up the gravel path, tires crunching through pine needles and dust. The cabin came into view through the trees—tucked into the woods, two stories, the wraparound porch catching golden slants of evening light.

Azzi whistled low under her breath. “Okay, damn. This looks even better than the pics.”

“Yeah,” you said, leaning forward in your seat, eyes scanning the porch, the open windows. “This is about to be a weekend.”

From the back seat, Nika grinned. “Call me when y’all stop fake acting like this ain’t about to be filthy within 24 hours.”

“Who said anything about 24?” Paige muttered, already stretching her arms above her head as the car rolled to a stop.

Bags thudded onto the wooden porch one by one. You and Azzi claimed the first bedroom on the main floor without discussion. Paige and Nika took the loft upstairs. It didn’t take long to settle in—hoodies flung over chairs, Bluetooth speaker connected, snacks unpacked into mismatched bowls in the kitchen.

Azzi was the one who lit it first. She stepped out onto the porch with the rolled blunt from earlier and a quiet kind of excitement in her eyes. You followed without needing to be asked. Paige and Nika joined with a lazy, practiced ease, like this had been part of the plan from the start.

The blunt made its way around the circle, fingers brushing, lips touching where others had just been. The weed hit slow and warm, melting tension from your limbs and coating everything in a golden haze.

Azzi leaned her head back against the cabin wall, exhaling slow. “God, this is so much better than smoking outside your dorm window like a criminal.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nika muttered, sinking lower into the Adirondack chair. “I am a criminal.”

“That’s not hot,” Paige said, stealing the blunt from her. “But keep trying.”

The group fell into a comfortable lull, the silence filled with the occasional cough, the click of a lighter, the low bass of the speaker vibrating through the wooden deck. Sunlight was bleeding out across the trees now, gold turning to amber.

You glanced at Nika and found her already watching you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something new. Her tongue dragged slow over her bottom lip like she was tasting the moment. You didn’t look away.

Azzi caught the look and let out a low, knowing hum. “Here we go.”

“What?” Paige asked, already smiling like she knew.

“Y’all feel it too, right?” Azzi said, eyes flicking between you, Nika, and Paige. “The shift?”

You let out a little laugh, half breath, half disbelief. “What shift?”

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dropping just enough to make your skin tighten. “The kind where everyone’s high and warm and looking too good to keep it casual.”

The air thickened.

Paige took one more pull and passed it, eyes dragging over Azzi slowly, almost reverent. “You’re the one talking like that, and I’m supposed to behave?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Who asked you to?”

Nika didn’t say anything. She just looked at you again—this time slower. Hungrier.

You shifted in your seat, heartbeat steady but rising. The blunt was in your hand now, fingers warm from where it had passed through everyone else’s. You took one last hit and handed it off, the taste lingering on your tongue like smoke and heat and someone else’s mouth.

And then Nika stood, stretching like a cat.

“I’m going inside,” she said casually. “Anyone who wants to follow… should.”

That pause.

That look at you.

Your stomach flipped, and Azzi let out a laugh like she knew exactly where this night was headed.

Inside the cabin, the air felt warmer. Still quiet, but heavier now. The kind of quiet that vibrated.

You followed Nika into the living room where the golden light was slipping through the big windows, catching the edges of her jaw, her chain, the curve of her smirk. She flopped down on the couch like she owned it—legs spread, arm draped over the back, eyes never leaving you.

“You coming here to sit,” she said, “or to make me lose my mind?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but footsteps on the porch made you pause.

Azzi and Paige walked in still laughing about something—Azzi holding the Gatorade from earlier, Paige tossing the lighter onto the counter like they’d just finished some kind of shared ritual.

Azzi looked at you first. Then Nika. Then Paige.

There was a beat. A pause. No one said it, but it hung in the air like smoke.

They felt it too.

Nika, of course, was the first to lean in. “So… are we gonna keep acting like y’all haven’t been staring at each other all day?”

Paige raised a brow. “You mean like how you’ve been watching her every time she licked her lips?”

Azzi just grinned and leaned against the back of the couch behind you, voice smooth. “We’ve been watching all of you. Don’t worry.”

Your pulse skipped. You turned, eyes meeting Azzi’s just as she reached out to gently tuck a curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth.

Something electric sparked between you—and Nika noticed. She leaned forward slowly, possessive smirk stretching across her face.

“Y’all think you’re slick.”

Azzi didn’t even look away from you. “No,” she said, brushing your shoulder with her knuckles. “We just think you’ll share.”

There was no laugh this time. Just heat. Stillness. An unspoken agreement passing through the room like current.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes catching Paige now—who looked like she was trying very hard not to smirk. She tilted her head, her voice lower now, controlled.

“Only if y’all can handle it.”

Nika stood. Slow. Deliberate. She walked up behind you and rested her hands on your waist, her breath brushing your ear. “You know we can.”

You leaned into her instinctively—familiar and dizzying—but still looked over at Azzi and Paige.

Azzi stepped forward.

Paige followed.

No rush. No scrambling. Just a quiet kind of hunger filling the space.

Four people.

One weekend.

Everything unspoken, finally ready to break.

Azzi was the first to close the space completely.

She stepped around the couch, walking toward you like she already knew what you tasted like. Her eyes dropped to your lips again, and this time, she didn’t just look.

She leaned in.

Her mouth brushed yours—barely. A question.

You parted your lips in answer.

It was soft at first. Curious. Just a slow pull of her bottom lip, the edge of her teeth catching. But when her hand slid to your waist, fingers splayed warm over your hoodie, she pulled you in with something deeper. Hungrier.

Behind you, Nika went still. You could feel her watching. Feel the tension rolling off her in waves. But she didn’t stop you.

She didn’t pull you back.

She stepped to your side and let her hand trail up your spine, grounding you, her presence thick at your back. And then—because of course she would—she leaned in and whispered, “Yeah… just like that.”

When you pulled back slightly from Azzi, her lips were still parted, eyes heavy.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” she murmured, voice still warm from the blunt, “for longer than I should admit.”

You felt Nika’s hand tighten briefly at your hip. Possessive, yes—but not stopping you. Just claiming her place in all of this.

Across the room, Paige had her arms crossed loosely, watching like she was calculating every moment, waiting for the right time to pounce. But when Azzi turned toward her—slow, teasing, licking your taste off her lips—Paige moved.

She stepped close.

Grabbed Azzi’s jaw gently.

And kissed her like it was a promise. Slow at first… then deeper. Paige’s hand moved to the back of Azzi’s neck, pulling her in harder, mouth open, demanding. Azzi whimpered—just once—and it made something tug in your stomach.

You didn’t realize you were staring until Nika turned your chin toward her.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” she said, quiet. Not cruel. Just steady.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away. You just nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I haven’t.”

“Good,” she said—and kissed you like she was making sure of it. It was rougher than Azzi’s, needier. Her hands gripped your jaw, tilted your head just how she liked it. When she pulled back, you felt dazed.

Behind you, Azzi laughed softly. “Damn.”

“She likes to show off,” Paige muttered, dragging her thumb along Azzi’s lower lip. “Let her.”

Nika turned and looked at Paige fully now. The two of them locked eyes—sizing each other up, but not with jealousy. No, this was something else. Competitive. Curious. Some twisted mutual respect.

Then Paige looked at you. Slowly. Like she wanted to see what your mouth tasted like too.

And Nika didn’t stop her.

Didn’t say a word.

She just looked at you, and said, low and dangerous:

“Go ahead, baby. Let her try.”

Paige’s eyes dragged over you like she was already undressing you in her head.

You didn’t move—not because you didn’t want to, but because you wanted to see if she would.

And she did.

She stepped in close, slow and steady, stopping just shy of your space. Her hand lifted to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. You inhaled softly—barely—and that was all she needed.

She leaned in.

Her kiss wasn’t like Azzi’s or Nika’s. It was precise. Like she was mapping your mouth, learning it. Her hand moved to your throat—not gripping, just there, a slow, grounding weight.

When she pulled back, her lips were still parted, eyes dark. “You kiss like trouble,” she murmured.

From behind, Nika scoffed. “She is trouble. I trained her well.”

You could feel the tension between them spike again—something cocky and unspoken, a silent battle playing out behind your shoulder.

And then, without warning, Azzi turned toward Nika.

They hadn’t kissed yet. Hadn’t even touched.

But the way Azzi looked at her now—challenging, curious—it was clear she was wondering how far this would go.

“You gonna be good?” she asked Nika, tilting her head slightly.

Nika raised an eyebrow, stepping close. “Only if you make me.”

Azzi smirked. “Didn’t think you’d let someone else take the lead.”

“I don’t,” Nika said smoothly, crowding into her space. “Unless they can handle it.”

Azzi didn’t back up. Instead, she reached up, fingers slipping into the chain at Nika’s neck, tugging her just enough to provoke.

“Then let’s see.”

Their mouths collided—no soft warm-up, just heat and teeth and pride. Nika kissed her like she was trying to win something, her hand locking tight in Azzi’s curls. But Azzi held her ground, her fingers curling in the front of Nika’s hoodie, hips brushing Nika’s just enough to make her breath catch.

You turned slightly, still dazed from Paige’s kiss, only to feel Paige’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you gently against her. She kissed your neck this time—slow, deliberate—and whispered:

“You looked good kissing her.”

You swallowed hard. “You like that?”

Paige’s hand dragged down your spine. “I like watching you come undone.”

Your stomach tightened. You glanced back at Azzi and Nika—now flush against each other, Azzi’s thigh slotted between Nika’s legs, both of them panting lightly against each other’s mouths, too stubborn to stop.

Azzi broke the kiss first, licking her lips and glancing over at you and Paige. “So,” she breathed, voice husky, “how are we doing this?”

There was a silence.

Not hesitation. Just weight.

Then Nika looked at you. “You still with me, baby?”

You nodded. “Always.”

Paige’s hand curled tighter at your waist. “I want her,” she said plainly, nodding toward you.

Azzi licked her lips. “Then I guess it’s only fair if I get yours.”

Nika’s eyes flashed. But not with jealousy. She grinned—sharp, competitive.

“Oh, you think you can handle me?”

Azzi leaned in and whispered something low in Nika’s ear—something you couldn’t hear—but Nika’s breath hitched, and her grip on Azzi’s waist tightened immediately.

“Try me,” Azzi said.

Then Paige turned you to face her again, her mouth hovering just above yours.

“Just tell me to stop,” she said, voice serious for once.

You didn’t.

Instead, you pulled her down to kiss you again—this time deeper, hungrier, needier—and felt the world tilt beneath your feet.

The couch was right there.

The night was young.

And nothing was off-limits now.

Cabin Bedroom

The four of you didn’t make it far.

Paige sat first, pulling you down into her lap like she already knew you’d fit. Her mouth met yours immediately—urgent now, with no one watching, no teasing left in her. Her hand slid under your hoodie, fingers exploring your waist and the swell of your chest like she wanted to feel every inch.

You gasped into her mouth when she cupped your breast over your bra, thumb brushing your nipple, slow and deliberate.

Behind you, you heard Nika’s voice—low, amused. “Damn, you didn’t even buy her a drink first.”

“Didn’t need to,” Paige murmured against your skin. “She’s been ready all day.”

Azzi climbed onto the bed behind Nika and pressed her chest to her back, arms sliding around her waist. “And what about you?” she whispered against her ear. “Think you can handle both of us?”

Nika smirked, but her breath caught when Azzi’s hand slid lower. “You wanna find out that bad, Fudd?”

Azzi’s answer was a bite to her neck—firm enough to make Nika groan and drop her head back.

You could barely think. Paige had lifted your hoodie halfway, hands greedy on your skin, kissing down your neck while her other hand toyed with the button on your jeans.

“You good?” she asked quietly, pressing her forehead to yours.

You nodded, breathless. “More than.”

She smiled and pushed your jeans down just enough—fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, slow and teasing. Her fingers were rougher than Nika’s, a little cockier in how she moved, but you were wet enough to welcome the pressure.

“Mmm. Knew it,” she murmured, brushing against your clit. “You’ve been dripping since you kissed her.”

Nika, now turning in Azzi’s arms, snapped her gaze toward the two of you. “My girl’s dripping?” She pulled free of Azzi’s grip and crawled across the bed. “Move, Paige.”

Paige gave her a lazy grin. “Make me.”

Azzi grabbed Nika’s hoodie and pulled her back, flattening her to the bed. “You’ll get your turn,” she said, straddling Nika’s waist. “Let me see if your mouth’s as good as you say.”

Nika opened her mouth to respond, but Azzi was already tugging her own shorts down, shifting forward on her knees.

You watched, wide-eyed, as Nika gripped Azzi’s thighs and pulled her closer, pressing her mouth between Azzi’s legs like it was instinct. Azzi’s head dropped back instantly, her moan deep and sudden.

Paige turned you back to her, hand still moving between your thighs. “Let them put on a show. You’re still mine right now.”

Her fingers slid inside—just two, curling exactly right—and you arched into her chest with a moan that tore out of your throat.

“Shit,” you gasped. “Paige—”

“I got you,” she said, kissing you again. “You just stay right here.”

She curled her fingers again, thumb circling your clit now while her other hand wrapped tight around your waist to hold you in place. You were gasping into her neck, trembling, barely able to form a thought.

Across the bed, Azzi was grinding down on Nika’s mouth, one hand fisted in her curls, the other gripping the headboard for balance. Her breaths were shaky, desperate.

“Nika—fuck, right there—”

Nika groaned into her, holding her tighter, grinding her tongue deeper, loving every second of it.

You were close. You could feel it—your hips rocking against Paige’s hand, thighs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispered again, licking up the side of your throat. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

You came with a sob in Paige’s arms, legs trembling, nails gripping her shoulders like you might fall apart without her.

And from across the room, Azzi let out a broken moan and came too—grinding down on Nika’s mouth, her thighs shaking around her head, body locking up before she finally slumped forward, breathless.

Azzi collapsed onto her back, chest heaving. Nika sat up, lips glistening, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she looked toward you—right as Paige slid her fingers free and kissed your temple.

“She’s still shaking,” Paige said, satisfied.

Nika’s jaw flexed. “Yeah? That’s mine.”

She moved like a storm—striding across the bed, grabbing your jaw gently but firmly, and kissing you deep, letting you taste Azzi on her tongue. It made your head spin. Your thighs were still trembling, but that didn’t stop her from pulling you away from Paige, repositioning you with practiced control.

She laid you down onto the mattress, climbing between your legs without hesitation. “Spread,” she ordered, voice low, and you obeyed before you even registered the command.

“You already came once,” Nika murmured, dragging her mouth down your stomach, fingers hooking in your panties. “Let’s see how many times you can take me.”

Paige, still sitting beside you, watched with interest, fingers tracing slow circles over Azzi’s bare thigh as she caught her breath.

Nika licked a long stripe up your center, and your whole body jolted.

“God, Nika—”

“You’re dripping,” she muttered. “I should be mad you gave that to someone else first.”

But the way her mouth moved said otherwise—possessive, hungry, fast. Her tongue curled around your clit like she’d missed it, like she needed this. You cried out, hand in her hair, already close again. She slid two fingers inside without warning, curling them while her tongue never stopped working you.

Across the bed, Azzi turned toward Paige, still breathless. “So…” she said, her voice husky. “You gonna be nice to me now?”

Paige leaned over, slowly climbing over her. “Baby,” she murmured, kissing her shoulder, “I’ve been nice.”

Azzi scoffed, but let Paige pin her wrists gently above her head, kissing her with slow, dark intent. Paige’s thigh pressed between Azzi’s legs, already feeling how soaked she still was. “You came fast,” she whispered, dragging her teeth across Azzi’s jaw. “Gonna give me another one?”

Azzi bit her lip. “Only if you work for it.”

Paige grinned, then slid down her body. “Challenge accepted.”

Nika was relentless between your legs, her tongue and fingers working you up again faster than you thought possible. “That’s it, baby,” she said against you. “Come again. Right now.”

Your second orgasm hit harder—sharp and sudden. You cried out, thighs locking around her head as she rode you through it, moaning into you like she wanted to live there.

When you finally collapsed, body trembling, Nika sat up, chest rising and falling. “Still mine,” she said, brushing your hair off your face. “Don’t forget that.”

You smiled weakly. “Never.”

Meanwhile, Azzi was unraveling again—Paige had one hand wrapped around her thigh, the other teasing her entrance as her mouth worked her clit with slow, excruciating precision. Azzi was panting, squirming under her. “Paige—fuck—”

Paige didn’t stop. Just grinned against her. “C’mon, pretty girl. Give it to me again.”

Azzi came with a cry, arching into her mouth, hands fisting the sheets, and Paige moaned into her like she’d just tasted something forbidden.

You sat up, still dizzy, only to be pulled gently into Nika’s lap again.

But this time—this time—Azzi reached for you too.

Her fingers brushed your knee, her eyes dark with something gentler, warmer. “Come here.”

You leaned toward her, and Paige shifted behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist while the four of you tangled together, bodies flushed and slick, breath heavy, kisses starting again—everywhere.

This time slower. This time deeper.

Not just heat.

Something more.

Bodies tangled—legs over laps, mouths on skin, hands everywhere.

Paige was still behind Azzi, one arm around her middle, the other sliding back down between her thighs. Azzi melted into it, her head dropping to your shoulder as she pulled you into a kiss—slow, messy, half-lost in the haze of overstimulation.

Nika, behind you, was kissing your neck again, her fingers teasing your breast, voice low and smug against your skin.

“Look at you,” she murmured, watching you kiss Azzi while Paige made her fall apart again. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re wrecked.”

Azzi gasped into your mouth, her thighs twitching. Paige had her right on the edge again—three fingers this time, curling up, working her with practiced precision. “She’s so responsive,” Paige said into Azzi’s ear. “Feel how tight she gets when you kiss her like that?”

You slipped your hand between Azzi’s legs too—right under Paige’s—your fingers circling her clit gently, in time with the rhythm.

Azzi shattered.

She came again, hard, her whole body seizing as she choked out your name and Paige’s together. You caught her mouth with yours, kissing her through it, while Nika’s hand crept between your legs from behind, two fingers sinking in like your body had been waiting for her.

You moaned into Azzi’s mouth, and Nika grinned.

“Still not done with you,” Nika breathed. “Lean back on me.”

You obeyed without thinking, chest arching as Nika fucked you from behind, slow and deep, her free hand gripping your throat—not tight, just there, grounding you in the overwhelming waves of pleasure. You could feel her breath at your ear, could hear Azzi and Paige tangled together in front of you, Azzi’s hand now slipping between Paige’s legs for the first time.

“Let me,” Azzi whispered.

Paige spread her knees wide, looking downright cocky about it. “You better keep up, Fudd.”

But the second Azzi’s fingers slid in, Paige lost her rhythm—her mouth dropped open, her hips grinding into Azzi’s hand before she could say a word.

“Oh—fuck, Azzi—”

You were watching it all—Paige unraveling for the first time, her dominant edge slipping while Azzi fucked her with slow, relentless strokes. Nika curled her fingers harder at that exact moment, making your back arch again, a desperate whine escaping your throat.

“Touch her clit,” Nika said into your ear, nodding toward Paige. “Make her come for us.”

You reached forward and did just that—your fingers rubbing tight, fast circles while Azzi’s moved inside her.

Paige’s jaw went slack. Her hips bucked, moaning your name now too.

“Shit, baby, yes—right there—”

And then she broke.

Her orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over her in full view of all of you, her head dropping to Azzi’s shoulder as her thighs trembled and her voice cracked. Azzi kissed her cheek, her jaw, her lips—soft and proud.

You weren’t far behind.

Nika had you spread wide in her lap, fingers thrusting deep, her grip on your throat just enough to have you floating. You turned your head, kissed her, whimpered into her mouth as you came for the third time—body seizing, stars bursting behind your eyes.

Every one of you, breathless.

Glowing.

Sprawled across the bed like wreckage.

——

It started with a look.

Azzi on one side of the bed. You on the other. Both of you grinning as your girlfriends lay back, catching their breath from the chaos of before—thinking maybe the night was winding down.

But no.

You exchanged a glance, and that was all it took.

Without a word, Azzi rolled over, crawling between Paige’s legs again, this time slower—intentional. You did the same to Nika, your palm pressed to her thigh as you pushed it open, her breath catching like she already knew what you were about to do.

“What are you—” Nika started, but her voice cut off when your tongue met her.

Paige flinched the same moment, head snapping up, only to fall back again with a low groan. “Oh my god, Azzi—”

Azzi just hummed in response, her mouth already deep on her, fingers gripping Paige’s thighs to hold her still. Paige’s hand flew to Azzi’s head on instinct, trying to ground herself, her legs already twitching.

Nika was no better. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, one hand tangled in your hair, the other blindly groping for something—anything—to hang onto.

And then her hand brushed Paige’s.

Their fingers locked on instinct. Tight. Desperate.

Neither of them said a word.

Paige’s hips jerked suddenly when Azzi sucked a little harder, a whimper escaping her mouth before she could stop it. Nika moaned at the same time, her hand squeezing Paige’s like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth.

“Shit,” Nika breathed, eyes rolling back. “She’s—fuck—she’s good.”

“Don’t gas her up right now,” Paige rasped, voice wrecked. “Or I’ll—fuck, Azzi, don’t stop—”

Their hands clutched tighter, forearms pressing, legs starting to tremble.

You looked up briefly, seeing it—Paige’s head thrown back, Nika’s jaw slack, the two of them gripping onto each other like the only thing keeping them sane was the shared overload.

And god, you wanted to push her over the edge. You sucked Nika’s clit a little harder, dragged your fingers along her entrance, feeling her thighs clamp around your head.

“Baby—baby, I’m gonna—”

Nika choked out a moan and came hard, her entire body convulsing, hand squeezing Paige’s like a lifeline.

Paige followed—seconds later—her voice cracking as Azzi buried her tongue deeper, not letting up until Paige was gasping, back arched, thighs shaking.

They came together, clinging to each other, falling apart in sync like they didn’t know how to fall separately anymore.

You and Azzi pulled back slowly—lips wet, proud smirks on your faces as you crawled back up the bed.

Nika looked dazed. Paige blinked slowly like she was just coming back into her body.

Azzi leaned down and kissed Paige’s neck. “Still dominant?” she whispered.

Paige didn’t answer.

Just pulled her into a kiss.

Nika turned to you, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re such a fucking problem,” she muttered, voice hoarse.

You grinned and kissed her, slow and deep. “Good.”

⸻

A long silence followed—just the sound of breathing, skin against skin, the occasional soft kiss or stroke along a thigh.

Eventually, Paige spoke, her voice wrecked but smug. “…We’re doing this again next weekend.”

Azzi laughed weakly into her neck. “Bet.”

Nika kissed your temple, then looked around at the flushed, sweaty pile of limbs. “Can we just live here?”

You hummed, still too gone to form a real sentence.

But yeah.

You could get used to this.

-

The room was still heavy with heat—sheets twisted, bodies flushed, skin damp. But the urgency had passed. Now it was just weightless.

You were the first to fall back, chest heaving, limbs boneless. Nika collapsed beside you, arm flopping over your stomach, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she mumbled.

You smiled lazily, turning to kiss her hair. “That’s fair. You didn’t exactly hold back.”

She made a low, pleased sound. “Neither did you.”

Across the bed, Paige was curled against the headboard, arms loosely wrapped around Azzi, who was tucked into her chest with one thigh still thrown over Paige’s. They looked like they’d been fused together. Hair tangled. Lips pink. Bodies humming in the same quiet rhythm.

“I think my soul left my body,” Azzi muttered, not moving.

Paige chuckled, low and smug. “Don’t worry, babe. I caught it.”

Azzi groaned and swatted her lightly. “Corny.”

You reached across the bed and brushed your fingers along Azzi’s arm. “You good?”

She turned her head toward you, eyes heavy but soft. “So good.”

Nika shifted slightly beside you, her hand slipping beneath the blanket to rest low on your stomach. “This,” she murmured, her voice rough from moaning, “this is so much better than last cabin.”

Paige lifted her head. “That’s because we weren’t competing the whole time.”

“You say that,” Nika replied, “but you definitely tried to one-up me with the leg shake thing.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “I succeeded at the leg shake thing.”

Azzi just snorted into her shoulder.

You smiled into Nika’s neck, letting your hand find her hip beneath the blanket. “You’re both hot. Shut up and cuddle.”

“Finally,” Azzi sighed, settling deeper into Paige’s chest. “Someone with sense.”

There was a pause—comfortable and full, silence settling between all four of you like a blanket. Legs tangled. Hands lazily trailing over skin. Breath syncing up.

“I kinda don’t want to move,” Paige mumbled after a while.

“You don’t have to,” you said softly.

“Good,” Nika added, nuzzling closer to you. “Because I’m stuck. You broke me.”

“Good,” you echoed, lips curling.

Azzi turned her face into Paige’s neck, her voice barely audible now. “Next time, I want a whole weekend of this.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Same.”

No one moved.

No one needed to.

Just the sound of hearts slowing down. Fingers brushing. Lips pressed gently to shoulders and necks. Everything quiet except the occasional shared breath or sleepy giggle when someone’s hand twitched or thigh shifted just right.

By the time sleep crept in, none of you were sure where one body ended and another began.

And none of you cared.

[bucks-babe]

Friends Don't Lie

Paring: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Wanting to know if your crush likes you, you go to Bucky for help, the only problem is, Bucky is your crush

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, Smut (oral f receiving, p in v), unprotected sex (don’t do that), friends to lovers, crying, praise kink, soft!Bucky is a warning, Roommate!Bucky, Bucky calls reader kid just to piss her off for a bit but not when they’re doing the thang thang, no actual age gap though, no use of Y/N

Word count: Over 5k Idk what happened

A/N: This is my first ever fic so please go easy on me. If I missed any warnings, please let me know. Any and all mistakes are my own

Sighing, you walk into the apartment you share with Bucky. He’s sitting on the couch sporting his signature grumpy frown. Your heart beats that much faster when you lay your eyes on him. Honestly, you don’t know how he looks that hot with just a black t-shirt and jeans on. 

“Hey, what’s got your panties in a twist, Buck,” you chime as you plop down onto the couch next to him, now noticing the bottle of whiskey in his hands. He only glances at you before taking another swig of his whiskey.

“My panties aren’t in a twist, kid,” he huffs.

You cringe at the nickname he gave you. In all reality, you were only 3 years younger than him, but he knows how much you hate being called kid. In true Bucky fashion, he calls you kid all the time, just to get under your skin. “Really, then why are you drinking at,” you check your phone for the time before cocking your eyebrow, “2 o’clock in the afternoon?”

He completely ignores your question so you press on. “Well since you aren’t doing anything, I need your help.”

This seems to catch his attention just a little, “With what?”

“Well…” you trail off only to continue when you catch his eye, “I need some relationship advice and I can’t go to Sam about it because he is the worst.”

“I’m supposed to be good at relationship advice? I’m not the right person to come to, kid.” He replies, seemingly even more annoyed than he was before you walked into the apartment, and takes another swig out of his bottle.

You snatch the bottle out of his hand (ignoring Bucky’s Hey! That’s mine!) and take a swallow, “You know how much I hate being called kid, Buck. But yes, I need relationship advice”

“Why can’t you go to Sam about this; he seems to think that he is an expert at everything?” he practically whines as he rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch, spreading his legs and giving you a great view of his thick thighs in those jeans.

“Because, Buck, Sam will just make fun of me, and I know for a fact he cant help me with this.” To be fair to Sam, he would probably give you good advice, but he would make fun of you for your crush on Bucky.

“And I won’t?” Bucky scoffs before taking the bottle back from your hands. 

“Well, you would make fun of me, but Sam would never let me live it down, okay,” you can already feel your cheeks starting to heat up and regret seeping into your pores for talking to the very person you want to be in a relationship with about relationship advice.

“I think I already know who you need the advice about, don’t I,” Bucky turns his head toward you and cocks an eyebrow.

“What!” It feels like ice is coursing throughout your entire body. There is no way that he knows you're talking about him. “Uh… wh-who do you think I’m talking about?” Nice save, dipshit. You are mentally punching yourself in the face.

He takes one final gulp of his whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm, and sets the bottle on the coffee table, “I’m pretty sure I know who you have feelings for. The question is, do you really think you have a chance?” Oh my God - he knows and this is his fucking warning to walk away. Pretend like this never happened and leave - now

“Who-who do you think I’m talking about.” Wow, nice save. Always repeat the question, it never makes you look more suspicious. If he wasn’t onto you already, he sure as hell knows now.

“It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?” God you hope not, “Let me guess, Rogers?”Huh? an amused, little smirk appears on his face, blue eyes waiting for your reaction.

“St-Steve?!” Okay, not where you thought this was going but at least he doesn’t know you like him.

“You’re blushing,” he puts an arm over the back of the couch and crosses one leg over the other, “and stuttering. Seems like I was right, huh?” that stupid, gorgeous smirk is still on his lips.

“No! I do not have a crush on Steve Rogers! Ew, no. Why would you even think that, Buck?” Maybe you shouldn’t have had such a visceral reaction to him thinking you liked Steve, but you’ve never seen Steve as anything other than a great friend; however, once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. “I do like someone, Buck, but the thing is… well I don’t know how to tell if they like me back. I mean, every relationship I’ve been in has been so…so superficial. I would like them, but I don’t think they ever liked me, you know? It was always about the sex and what I could give them.” Shut up Shut up “This is why I need your help. I’ve never had someone like me for me and I don’t know how to tell if what I feel for this guy, who is most definitely not Steve, is reciprocated.” Why are you still talking?!

“Calm down, kid,” Bucky’s hands on your shoulders cut you off from your rant. The smirk is gone from his face, replaced with a look that is slightly less grumpy looking than his normal face. “It’s only me, remember? I’m sure whoever this guy is, he likes you for who you are, kid.” He once again leans back against the couch.

Your scoff brings the smirk back to his face, which is now more annoying than pretty.

“You know what, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” As you go to get up from the couch, Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you back next to him, much closer than you were before.

“Who is it, kid? I can help you, only if you tell me who it is.” It feels like he is staring into your soul, like he can see right through you and you hate it. Fear bubbles up inside of you.

“Why do you need to know who the guy is, huh? I need advice and you said you would help me.” He’s getting too close to the truth; if he keeps pressing the matter, he’s going to find out that it's him you like, and that will not end well. You can feel the heat coming off of his body just like his stare is heating your cheeks.

“Kid, just tell me who it is you like and I can help.” He leans forward in his seat and you can tell that he is getting pissed off. Maybe you're reading too much into the situation, but Bucky might be getting mad because he likes you? Impossible.

“Help how? Do you know who likes me?” Smooth 

“I can tell you if this guy, who isn’t Steve, likes you, I just need a name first, kid.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, making it very clear that he is not happy with how the conversation is going.

“Wait! You do know if someone likes me!” You’re desperately clutching at straws to keep his attention off of who you like, knowing that it’s fruitless.

“Yeah, I do. But right now I don’t care because you still won’t tell me who you like.” Bastard! That stupid, pretty smirk is back and he knows he won.

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me who already likes me, and I’ll tell you who I like.” 

“Deal.” Rolling his eyes, Bucky finally leans back and it feels like you can catch your breath again. “It’s Sam, he likes you, kid.” Bucky knows that he is lying through his teeth, but he is a great liar and this will get you to tell him who your crush is.

“Sam?” You can’t help the way your face falls or the disappointment in your voice. You knew it was a long shot, Bucky liking you that is, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash when telling you that Sam of all people liked you.

“Yep,” he pops the p. “Sammy boy likes you. Now, who do you like?” He can’t even pretend to care about throwing Sam under the bus or who he will now hate for the rest of time for taking his girl from him before he could make you his.

“Uh… it’s Sam. Yep…Sam. I like Sam, so this actually works out really great… thanks, Buck.” It sounds like a lie even to your own ears, let alone to Bucky’s.

“Come on, kid. Spit it out.” Somehow Bucky’s final braincells piece together your reaction. You like him. That is the only explanation as to why you won’t tell him who you like. “Kid, do you like me?”

You start to choke on your own spit and if you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. “Wh-wh-what? You? No!”

Bucky’s eyes light up just a fraction and his right hand cups your chin. “You like me, kid.” It’s not framed as a question, but rather a statement. Maybe it was the whiskey finally taking effect, but he tilts your head so you are looking directly at him and your breath hitches in your throat. “I like you, too.” It’s a whisper, but it pulls you out of your stupor.

You wheel back and jerk out of his grasp. “That’s not funny, asshole. Who said that I liked you?”

“Me.” Was his only response. “Didn’t you hear what I said, kid? I like you, too,” a chuckle left his lips.

“That is not funny, Buck. Don’t play with my feelings like that.” You don’t know why, but you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. For a second, you thought that Bucky liked you back, but this was all some cruel joke. Of course Bucky was just messing with you.

“Hey, kid, look at me. Don’t cry.” The smirk on his face is gone, leaving only concern; this is worse, those pretty eyes looking at you with pity. “I wasn’t joking. I actually like you back, okay.” Guilt bubbles up in his chest when he sees tears fall down your cheeks. “Aw, sweets, you’re too pretty to cry.” He coos, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“What did you just call me?” The pet name seems to bring you back to the moment. You’ve never heard him call anyone sweets, and the name made you feel special inside.

“Huh?” Now it is Bucky’s turn to be confused.

“You called me sweets, not kid.” You tilted your head, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Well, it would be a little weird if I called you kid when I do this.” His face was only centimeters away; you could feel his breath on your lips. He was waiting for you to give the all clear, a sign that this was okay. You were the first one to make a move, closing the gap between you two. 

When your lips connected, you let out an involuntary moan; you’ve dreamed about kissing him and what he would taste like but nothing could compare to the real thing. He tasted of the whiskey he was sipping on and something distinctly Bucky that you couldn’t put your name on, but frankly you didn’t care when he was kissing you so good.

With his hands still on your jaw, he tilts your head to where he wants it, making you gasp. His tongue enters your mouth and now it’s his turn to moan. One of his hands falls down to your thigh and he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

You were the first one to pull away, regrettingly, but you needed oxygen and as much as you wish you could breathe him in, it wasn’t possible to sustain life. You wrap your arms around his middle and bury yourself into his neck, and the arm around your thigh travels up to your waist, while his other hand goes to the back of your head.

“Hey, easy, sweets. I can barely breathe.” You can feel more than hear Bucky’s chuckle, but you only bury yourself deeper into his shoulder, feeling a sudden rush of emotions. Never in a million years did you think that Bucky would kiss you, or that you would be on his lap. “Are you okay, sweets? Come on, talk to me.” Bucky can feel how tense you are on top of him, and it makes him worry.

Once again, there are tears in your eyes. At this point, you don’t know if they ever went away, “I just never thought that you would like me, you know?” The hand on your head doesn’t try to pull you away, but rather massages where it lays.

“Well, I do, sweets, so you’re gonna have to get used to me. How about that?” You just nod into his shoulder and wiggle deeper into his embrace. Bucky lets out a low groan and the hand on your back drops down to your hip, holding you in place. “You’re gonna have to stop moving, sweets.” You can feel the hard bulge in his pants from you moving around, causing a giggle to leave your lips, the tears once again subsiding.

“Oh, you think this is funny, huh, kid?” He brings back the nickname just to tease you and you know it.

“Hey! I’m sitting on your dick right now, please don’t call me kid, Buck.” Bucky throws his head back and the most beautiful laugh leaves his mouth. He’s laughing so hard that you are slightly bouncing on his lap and your core hits the raised zipper of his pants. A whine leaves your lips while his laughter turns into a choked groan.

“Fuck, sweets, come here.” He pulls you back in for another kiss while he leans back into the couch. Involuntarily, your hips grind against his and he is swallowing your moans in his mouth.

You sit up a little and pull him up with you. Tugging at the bottom of his shirt causes him to break your kiss, “You want my shirt off, sweets?” You can only whine in response and tug on it again, but Bucky isn’t helping you take his shirt off until you speak.

“Please, Buck.” God you’re already out of breath and he’s only kissed you.

“That’s a good girl. See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Oh fuck. A high pitched moan leaves your throat at his praise. Bucky chuckles, he’s found your praise kink and he’s not going to let it go now.

He takes pity on you and takes his shirt off, but doesn’t give you time to ogle at his shirtless body before his hands are underneath your hoodie, warm palms running up and down your naked skin. “Can I take this off, pretty girl? Can I see my pretty baby, huh?” You nod your head so fast you make yourself slightly dizzy, but he makes no move to actually remove your top, waiting for you to speak.

“Yes, Bucky. I want you to take it off please.” A hum of approval leaves him as he takes your hoodie off.

“Fuck,” it comes out under his breath when he sees you in just your bra and pants. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You know that? You know how pretty you are?” Fuck, you can’t do this. He’s saying the things you always wanted him to say to you, but now you don’t know how to handle it. He lays you down on the couch and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through both of your pants.

When his hand goes up you back to your bra, your brain goes into overdrive. “This isn’t just sex, right?” You need this to mean something to him too. It can’t just be sex; you can’t do just sex. It would break your heart.

Bucky chuckles a little before giving you a chaste kiss, clearly missing your desperation for it meaning something more. “Let me show you how much you mean to me, sweets? Let me make you feel good.” His hands are on your leggings, fingers in the waistband. 

“You won’t leave me after, right? You’ll stay with me?” God, are you crying again? This might be your only chance to be with him and you’re blowing it! The crack in your voice gets his attention and his hands leave your bottoms to cup your face once again, thumbs wiping your tears.

“Hey, sweets, look at me?” You meet his eyes; they are filled with a softness you’ve never seen from him before. “Of course I won’t leave you. I just got you, and now you’re going to be stuck with me for a very long time, okay, sweet girl? You’re mine and I’m yours.” He rests his forehead on yours after kissing all of your tears away.

“You’re mine?” 

“All yours, okay?” After you nod, he pulls you back up so you're sitting on his lap and holds you close to his chest. “How about we just calm down for a little bit, okay? I didn’t mean to push you too far, sweets.” He’s so perfect. How did you get him?

“No. I’m okay, it’s just that…well I don’t want you to leave me after you get what you want, Buck.” This is so unsexy; there is no way he is going to want to sleep with you now

“Look at me, sweets.” You look at him, “Good girl.” Fuck. “I want you. Not just your body. I want to take you out on dates and annoy all of our friends with how cute we look together. I want it all.” He’s looking into your eyes with such sincerity that it feels like you could break and all of your doubts leave your mind.

You grind your hips against his still hard cock, “Will you make love to me, Buck?” 

He groans lowly before gaining his composure again, “Are you sure, sweet girl? We don’t have to do anything, you know that?” But you want to, so bad.

“I know and I’m sure I want you.” He’s looking into your soul; he never wants to hurt you. “Please?” It’s the doe eyes that break him and he picks you up and carries you to his room like you weigh nothing.

“I’m gonna make love to you, sweet girl. If you want me to stop, just say the word, okay? But I promise it won’t change how I feel about you.” He is looking into the depths of your soul, making sure this is what you want; there is nothing you want more in this moment than Bucky finally loving you.

Instead of a verbal response, you wrap both your arms and legs around him so his whole body is on top of yours on his bed and you kiss him again. You are surrounded by everything Bucky; his room smells so good that you want to spend forever in it with him. 

Calloused palms slide up your back to meet the clasp on your bra and Bucky breaks the kiss, staring at your swollen lips before catching your eye, “Can I take this off, sweets?” Taking your bra off swiftly after he hears your breathly ‘yes,’ his hands find purchase on your ribs.

“Fuck,” his groan makes you attempt to close your legs to find some release, but his waist stops your legs from moving even an inch. “Your tits are absolutely gorgeous, you know that? God, sweets, do you feel how hard you make me? This is all for you.”

You arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his field of view, gasping when his right hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Please, touch me, Buck!” You already sound cock drunk and he hasn’t even done anything to you, but you can’t find it in you to care. 

Cocking his head to the side and chuckling, he whispers in your ear, “I am touching you, sweets.” That son of a bitch! “Where do you want me to touch you, huh?”

You grab his unoccupied hand and lead it down to your pants but he doesn’t budge, refusing to touch your clothed pussy. “Touch you where, sweet girl? I need words or I can’t please you.” 

Cheeks heating up, you finally give up, just wanting him to touch you, pleasure you, anything. “My pussy, Bucky! Touch my pussy!”

“Atta girl. I knew you could do it.” How does he know all the right things to say?

He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck, to your chest, down your belly, until he reaches the hem of your leggings; looking up at you, waiting for your permission, “Take my pants off, please.”

Another wave of slick goes straight to your core when he whispers, “Such a good girl, using her words,” as he takes your pants off, leaving your panties on your core. Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life.

Bucky’s thumb goes up and down over your pussy, slightly pushing down over your entrance, making your panties that much wetter, then sliding his thumb up to your clit. Your thighs unconsciously tighten around his head and hips jerk up when he does it again, and again, and again.

Breathy moans and gasps leave your lips before he gently pushes your thighs back with a small chuckle, and pushes your panties to the side, getting his first glance at the pussy he has been dreaming about. 

“Such a pretty pussy to match the prettiest girl in the world, don’t you think?” He doesn’t wait for a response this time, instead his mouth latches onto your clit and the moan that leaves his mouth is almost louder than your own. 

He can’t bring himself to pull away for a single moment, rather speaking into your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your entire core. A small huff leaves his lips when your thighs wrap around his head again; he’s going to make sure you stay put right where you are so he can keep licking your pussy until he is satisfied. He laces both of his hands with yours when you reach down toward him, because you need to be able to ground yourself.

So lost in your own pleasure, you almost don’t notice that Bucky is grinding against the bed, desperate for any type of friction, dick being the hardest that it has ever been. He’s sure that he could blow his load at any moment, but he wants this to be good for you, needs it to be good for you, so he is holding back with all his might, but fuck if he can’t stop moving his hips he won’t make it inside of you. And the sounds that are coming out of your mouth are making it almost impossible for him to do that.

Your thighs clamp around his head somehow even harder when you feel your orgasm approaching, effectively suffocating Bucky. He doesn’t care; he can breathe when you come on his tongue. You don’t even have time to announce that you’re going to cum before the strongest orgasm of your life rips through you. Bucky’s muffled moans are even more distant over the blood rushing through your ears, eyes finding purchase in the back of your head, you don’t know if you went silent because the orgasm knocked all the wind out of your, or if you are going to get a knock on the door from the police because they think you’ve been murdered.

When Bucky comes back up for air, the whole of his lower face is covered with your slick, and that gorgeous smirk is back on his face. “Thank you, sweet girl. That was amazing.” Did he cum, too? Please don’t tell me I missed seeing his face when he cums.

Seeing your dilemma, Bucky chuckles, “Don’t worry, sweets, my cock is still rock hard for you. Although, I did almost cum watching you. You have no idea how pretty you look when you cum.” You’re too fucked out to even be embarassed at how easily he can read you, or his knowledge of how much you want his cock.

While you're still coming down, Bucky finishes taking off your panties and the rest of his clothes. The moment he pulls his jeans and boxers down and his cock springs up, you gasp. You’ve never seen a prettier cock in all of your life: thick and long with a vein that you want to spend hours licking goes from base to tip, flush head partially covered by his foreskin, heavy and full balls that you know wouldn’t even be able to fit in your mouth rest at his base.

Your eyes never leave his cock as he climbs back into bed, salivating at the way it bobs as he walks and the precum dripping from his tip. “Can I suck your cock, Bucky, please?” Damn, you’ve never begged to suck a cock in your life.

Moaning at the way it twitches at your begging, you reach out for it but Bucky stops you.

“Next time, sweet girl, promise. I need to be inside of you right now and I won’t last if I let you do that, okay, sweets?” You whine in disappointment but nod nonetheless. You groan and wiggle your hips when he is finally on top of you again and you feel his cock slide up and down your pussy.

“Can I have it, Bucky? Can I have your cock?” Bucky looks like he is about to blow a fuse as he grips the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming.

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna have to stop saying things like that if you want this to last.” He is lining up with your entrance and you immediately shut your mouth. There will be another time to be a brat and tease him, but right now you need his dick.

“I’m ready, Bucky, I want it.” Your breath catches in your throat when his tip slides in, for all the staring you did a few minutes ago, you vastly underestimated how fucking big his dick was and now it feels like you’re being spilt in two - in the best way.

“Shit! Sweets, you’re so -fuck- you’re so tight. Choking my dick so good, baby fuck. Best pussy I’ve ever had and I’m only halfway in.” He’s mouthing at your neck while you're grabbing onto anything you can.

“Please, Bucky, more! Fuck, I want it.” You feel like you could cum again just at the sheer stretch of his cock inside of you, his deep groans spurring you on. 

As he bottoms out inside of you, you feel the heavy weight of his balls against your ass, twitching wildly as he tries to stave off his own orgasm. “Oh god, you’re so fucking warm. Fuck, feels like I’m gonna blow before I even move. Shit!” Bucky is so pussy drunk he can’t even think straight, but fuck if you don’t love it. 

“Please move, Bucky, please, I need you to fuck me, please!” You weren’t fairing much better, cock drunk out of your mind.

Bucky is scrambling against the sheets, trying to be closer to you somehow, as if having his impossibly thick length inside of you wasn’t enough, he wraps your legs around his waist as he starts to rut into you.

He is barely pulling out of you, not that you would let him go very far anyway with how tightly your legs are wrapped around him. “Pussy is so fucking good! I just wanna stay here forever, sweets. You want that to, fuck, huh? You want me to stay in this little pussy?”

Clawing at his back, you were a babbling mess, crying out for him, never having been in so much pleasure before. “Yes, Bucky, I want that so bad, yes.” Tears were welling up in your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure that you were receiving from Bucky. 

Rutting into you faster, his hand slid between your bodies and thumb rubbing your clit in fast circles, Bucky’s calm demeanor was gone, now he was begging for you to cum with him.

“Come on, sweets. I need -fuck- I need you to cum for me. I need to feel your little pussy cum on my cock.” His balls were slapping against your ass, making a vulgar sound, as they were covered in your slick that had trailed out of your pussy.

“Can feel you clenching around me, pretty girl.”

“Need you to cum first, please.”

“Want you to soak my cock.”

“Be my good girl and cum.”

Maybe it was the good girl, but the second orgasm that tore through your body was even better than the first and the clenching of your pussy sent Bucky over the end, into his own orgasm.

“Fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna cum for you. I got so much fucking cum and it’s all for you. Shit, I’m cumming!” You felt his cock twitch once, twice, and balls pull up before his cum was coating the inside of your pussy.

After you both came down from your highs, Bucky slowly pulled out, catching the wince that left you at the emptiness of your cunt. “Sweet girl, I’m going to get a cloth to clean you with and some water, but I’ll be right back, okay?” Bucky wanted to make sure that you knew that he was coming back, that he wasn’t like all of those other assholes who didn’t treat you right.

Your faint ‘okay’ was the green light for Bucky to dash to the bathroom to clean himself up, get a rag for you, and then head to the kitchen to get a glass of water for you. He paid special attention when wiping you clean, not wanting to overstimulate you after having multiple orgasms.

He helped you sip your water before covering you both up and holding you close to his chest. Never in your life had you felt so safe and loved than you did at this moment, wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, confident that he would stay with you even after having sex with you. 

“You know that I love you, right, sweet girl? And I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered into your hair.

“I do now. And I love you, too, Buck.”

After a little while, you raise yourself on his chest a little so you can look into his eyes, “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, sweets?” No one has ever looked at me with so much love.

“Does Sam actually have a crush on me?” Bucky throws his head back into the pillows with an exaggerated groan while you try to muffle your giggles. For once, you actually have what you’ve always wanted.

[reidrum]

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy part 3 | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!charles leclerc ; mean!dom!max verstappen ; dom!daniel ricciardo x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: blowjob, mention of gagging, hair pulling, pussy eating, dacryphilia, brief mention of spanking, brief mention of face slapping, brief mention of marking somebody up, humiliation

w/c: 1k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

How Carlos would not hesitate to force you onto your knees.

“f-fucking hell, cariño,” were the words you were able to here from your spot on your knees in front of the intimidating Spaniard as his big hand led your head, giving you close to no work. “Esa boca puede chupar pollas, mierda,” that mouth can suck cock, carlos threw his head back and groaned deeply.

You briefly tried your best to looked up at him with your with tears-filled Bambi eyes, batting your eyelashes as good as you could up at him before you gagged on his cock, making him chuckled and looked down at you,

“Too much? No… it’s not too much for that little mouth of yours, estoy en lo cierto?” Am I right?

With pleading eyes and hallowed cheeks, you shook your head and hummed, knowing that you won’t be able to get any words out.

He nodded confidently, “I know I’m right, my angel… I know,” Carlos whispered while his other hand caressed your hallowed cheek, smirk still very visible on his face.

Or how Charles wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to eat you out in his small changing room.

“Every time I eat that pretty pussy of yours it just tastes better and better, mon amour,” he mumbled before you spread your legs further apart and buried his head between your thighs again, messily licking and lightly sucking on your clit while you fisted his hair.

You threw your head back, as always, “Charles! Oh g-god, don’t stop… please!” You whined almost pathetically.

Your heard and felt him giggle into your soaked cunt, “wasn’t planning on stopping, my love.”

He suddenly put his entire mouth around your clit and passionately sucked on his before he flicked it a couple of times with the tip of his tongue, making you cover your mouth.

Charles noticed how your screamed into your palm and quickly raised his hand to remove your hand from your panting mouth,

“oh no, no baby, we don’t do that here… when you’re with me, then I want to hear how I make you feel, you understand? So let me hear you… all of you,” he whispered as he looked up at you from his place on his knees, fingers squeezing your skin as tears blurred your vision.

And then you shook with pleasure as moans and whines escaped your mouth like never before, Charles only smiling into your wet pussy as he continued devouring your most sensitive area with his mouth and tongue.

And how max wouldn’t let you talk to the other drivers in the paddock without leaving his mark on your behind.

He watched you closely, almost like a hunter its prey as you talked to Charles, giggling about something, making his blood boil.

The second Charles left you alone, max walked over to you, his dark gaze not leaving your body.

“What did the two of you talk about, hmm?”

You furrowed your brows but before you could even get a word out, he already grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, harshly throwing you into it and locking the door behind him.

“You want something? Money? Attention? Some spanks or some slaps across your pretty face? You come to me… I can give you all of that and you know it,” he mumbled into your ear from behind, his big hands already lifting your dress up and pulling your panties to the side.

“M-Max, what are y-you-” but your sentence was stopped by your own loud and whiny moan, hand slapping against the wall he pressed you to before you squeezed your eyes shut.

His big hand cradled your chin from behind, thumb caressing your skin as he entered you, roughly fucking you in a fast and almost painful but still pleasurable pace.

He chuckled, his lips kissing your temple, “you feel that? You feel me inside of you? That’s the only thing that should be filling your tight cunt up, okay?” He whispered, making you nod.

“Good girl,” he kissed your cheek, comfortingly kissing your tears away, “and those beautiful tears, god baby… you know how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He smiled.

Daniel would use you to fulfill his needs all the time, giving you close to no break.

After a good qualifying or a race win, you would be in his driver’s room already, pathetically bend over the arm of the couch while Daniel is grinning like a devil behind you, your clothes long gone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t beg for that all day long, saw you looking at me with those big, teary eyes, almost couldn’t resist myself to fuck that pretty hole in front of everybody,” he whispered into your ear from behind before moving his head down to kiss your shoulder and neck.

You whined, fingers gripping the soft material of the couch so roughly that your knuckles turned white, “N-Not true-” you gasped as his thrusts into your pussy got harsher, one hand pressing your body down by your waist while the other one got a merciless grip of your hair, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

You gasped while he chuckled, dark pupils starring down at you, “not true you say?” He bit his lip, thrusts getting slower but harder, making you choke on your breath each time,

“Not true she’s says,” he quickly pecked the top of your head while listening to your cries, smile not fading, “how funny.”

Your head fell forward but daniel didn’t like that, in a matter of seconds, he tangled his long fingers in your hair and pulled your head back up, his other hand pressing more down onto your waist, forcing you to arch your back for him even more,

“Oh no no no, baby… you stay here, okay? Right here,” you squeezed your eyes shut, tears covering your cheeks as your hands trembled with each thrust, “look at me… c'mon look up at me, baby,” he mumbled, smirking as you obeyed and opened your eyes again.

“Just like that,” daniel grinned down at you, praising you quietly before he kissed the top of your head again.

[dixonsstinkysock]

Are you laughing at my brother?

summary - tommy will learn to listen to you one way or another.

pairing - shelby family x reader

warnings - none

notes - this is not supposed to be taken seriously but this was my dream and i have to get it out somehow

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist

You walk into the open doorway of the snug, adjusting you purse and sitting in the empty seat obviously for saved for you. It was late, the Garrison was empty but not because of the time of night. The Shelby’s had cleared it out specifically for this meeting, as they do with every family meeting they have here.

Everyone was gathered around, sat at the table, even Ada. Which was rare considering she wanted nothing to do with things like this…must be important.

“Alright, you’ve finally got me here, Thomas. What is it you want?” You take a sip of the whiskey they had sat in front of you. “Make it quick, please, I have a life to get back to.”

It’s completely silent before someone finally speaks up, it’s John. You’ve always liked him, he had a certain charm when it came to…charming women. He was always respectful to you though, you had thought if things go south…he might be a second choice.

“Well uh…We found some…information on our new barmaid.”

“Oh really?”

This time Arthur speaks, “Yeah…Information.” He gently throws his hands up and sits back in his seat. You sit back in your own seat, purse sitting on your lap. You start to piece together what they are going to say, after all, you had warned the Shelby family way too many times. Polly scoffs, blowing smoke from her rouge lips.

“Oh for fucks sake—Grace was a spy. You were right all along.”

You freeze, hand still halfway to your almost empty glass. Your nervousness from the past silence was getting to you. After hearing what Polly said, the truth, you thought maybe there was a god. A god who hated Thomas Shelby just as much as you did and wanted to embarrass the hell out of him.

You burst out in laughter, loud and happily, right in the infamous Peaky Blinders leader’s face. His eyes were locked onto you, smoke leaving his nostrils and lips.

“Something funny, (Y/N)?” He questioned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Only the most hilarious thing that could ever happen!” You continue to laugh in his face, no one else joining in, they wouldn’t want to face Tommy’s wrath after you left…if you did leave. “What did I tell you, Tom?!”

“How’s your plan working out for you? Ha!”

After a few more moments of your loud laughter, you calm down, pouring yourself another drink. “My god, I’ve never laughed that hard in a long time. Who knew it would be at your expense.”

“(Y/N), unfortunately I didn’t invite you here to laugh at my decisions.”

You take a sip of your second glass of the brown liquid, “Mhmm, what did you call me here for, Thomas?” You set the crystal glass down, noticing Tommy brought out his nicer ones…hmm. You adjust your top, no reason really just to make yourself look busy.

“I need you back, (Y/N).”

You laugh again, not as long and loud as the last one but just a chuckle, you almost choked on your drink when you heard him.

“Don’t want me anymore, but you need me.”

He goes to respond when you cut him off— “Thomas, sweet Thomas…No.”

He doesn’t look taken aback, as if he was expecting your answer. Which, in all fairness, he should’ve been. You and Tommy had something, something real and raw. Then, Ms. Grace Burgess came along, all sweet and soft…You tried warning him about your suspicions but Tommy threw you to the side once he got his eyes of her. So you did something that would hurt him right back, you left. You left on a random day, took some of his stash and left.

You knew you wouldn’t be gone for long, you knew what Grace was and you knew what Tommy would do to get you back once he’s had his fun. After a while though, you got comfortable in your new life, you were happy. A nice job, no dirty, bloody men around every corner. Even thought the Shelby family had their good moments, you weren’t sure if it was all worth it anymore.

“You’ve made your bed and now you’ll lie in it.”

You pick up your belongings and walk out, not caring to stop for Tommy calling your name. Who does he think he is? Wanting you to crawl back to him after he’s fucked another woman, after he’s betrayed you. The Garrison door slams shut from its weight, leaving the rooms filled with silence. “Isn’t that wonderful…” Polly brings her cigarette back to her lips, breathing in.

“…So what now, Tom?” John looks to his elder brother, still a little confused on what just happened.

“She’ll be back.”

Arthur speaks now, “Ha…Tommy, I don’t know if you heard her but, uhh no. She won’t.”

“She will. Go on, you all have things to do while we wait.”

words:idk

anyways guys random, like i said

C U L8TER! 💚

[mari-positas]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[emmyrosee]

hi emmy i really like your writings ✨🎠❣️ can i please request sukuna with a clumsy reader that seems to be accident-prone. and one time she denies his help and says she can take care of her own well being and then the next second she just get injured like pretty bad she just cries on sukuna because it hurts and embarrassing for her. thank youuu so muchh if you really write this request ✨🙏🎠🤍

I LOVE CLUMSY READERS ☹️🫶🏻

—

“You’re going to fall.”

Sukuna watches from a respectful distance as you step from the chair onto the countertop, the griddle up there seemingly farther away every time he puts it there. “Please, for the love of all things unholy, let me help you.”

“No, no,” you say dramatically. “You always tease me for falling, always make fun of me for needing help, don’t act high and mighty now that you think I might need help.”

“Can you not use your thinking skills to figure out that I’m teasing you when I say stuff like that?” He says, watching as your body sways softly from the height. “Oh my god, please get down.”

“Sukuna im fine,” you laugh. Your hands reach up to grab the door handle, and when you can’t open it to full capacity, you try to take a step back to open it, only to forget exactly how high up you were, and you slip.

He moves like a bullet to catch you, but your knee slams into the countertop that originally held you, and you sink your teeth into your lip as Sukuna awkwardly cradles your body against his chest, save for your now throbbing knee which dangles helplessly. Tears well in your eyes as searing pain blooms from your bone, and you can’t look up at him, no, because you’ll cry. You’ll burst into tears right now and sob in pain and embarrassment, from him being right and holy shit did you fracture your knee what the hell-

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking down at you expectantly. His voice is unusually low, probably to try and keep you comforted, but all it does is make you screw your eyes shut and try to fight off the line of tears that bubble and slip down your cheeks. “Shit, baby, let me-“

“I’m fine!” You hiss, struggling in his grasp. The minute you move your leg, however, the shooting daggers of pain make you whimper in agony. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

“No,” he snaps. “You’re fucking hurt. Don’t be fucking stubborn.”

He hulks your body up and onto the countertop, the action having you choke out a sob from the pain and shame coursing through you. He gingerly takes your leg in his hands, testing the way it bends and how your cries pitch in distress as he handles it one way or another. With a click of his tongue he spins on his heel to make his way to the freezer and grab a bag of frozen veggies.

“You don’t listen to me,” he snarls. “What, you think because I tease you, you’ve gotta go risk your fucking life to prove a point?” He presses the bag of vegetables on your knee, the pressure making you wheeze and the chill shocking your nerves. Despite his words, he shushes you softly at your distress and uses his free arm to pull you against his chest.

“You stand on chairs all the time,” you whimper, and you hear him scoff.

“Yeah, because I don’t give a fuck if I fall. You just got seriously hurt, don’t you know how scary that was? For both of us? For fucks sake, what if you cracked your skull!”

You sniffle against him and shrug at his worries, and he clicks his tongue with a sigh. “I care about you, baby. Don’t do stupid shit like that, okay?” When you nod against him, he chuckles softly, “my stupid, clumsy brat.”

“Shut up.”