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you-know-honey · 2 days ago

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Green Vibes

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Viktor is on the verge of collapse because of work, so you will “prescribe” him an unconventional method.

Warning: Mention and use of drugs (Weed). Sexual tension (I don't know if it counts, judge for yourself)

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share if you liked it.

Translation of the request: The reader shows Viktor the joints

You bent down to pick up the twelfth crumpled ball of paper that rolled across the floor to throw it in the trash can.

As an assistant it was your duty to help with the less interesting tasks of being a visionary inventor. And that meant keeping things tidy and clean.

Which used to be the biggest burden, Jayce was a master at leaving important things lying around, his desk was always full of papers, notebooks, screw and bolts.

It was like being his babysitter, once he left at nightfall, you stayed to tidy up.

You wanted to go home and… try a new ‘relaxant’ you had bought, but it seemed like that would have to wait. Or maybe not…

Viktor always stayed too late at the lab, so while you cleaned up and complained about the mess of Jayce, he was always there, silent or chatting a little with you when he decided to take a break, something very rare for him.

But now he was really focused, mumbling things that aren't so nice to hear while writing in his notebook, then he got upset and hit the table a little before tearing off the sheet and throwing it to the floor. He's been like this for the last few hours, it seems like he could burn everything down if his formulas don't start making sense soon. It's weird to see him like this, normally he's someone who could have infinite patience, you suppose he has it with everyone except himself.

You approached his desk discreetly, as if you were tidying up a bit. You carry with you your usual relaxed energy, maybe you could spread some of your spirit to him.

"Viktor!" your shout surprised him, making his back tingle like a cat's "You look like you're about to pop a vein, are you okay?" they say with a soft smile.

Viktor guides his gaze from your hands on his desk to your face, you look at him with a calm smile, as if you hadn't just almost stopped his heart, it's always like that, there's no other way you could smile at him and if you think back he's the only person you really smile at.

He answers with a snort, rubbing his temples.

“Of course not. If I was this dam- prototype would work” he refrained from saying a rude thing, you knew him, for him, saying a rude thing meant he was losing his composure and that was something he never did “I'm starting to think that magic is more logical than science.”

He sighed, showing that he was quite exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes supported that conclusion. His thin hands combed his hair as if that would refresh his ideas before falling on his desk again.

That squeezed your heart a little and made a curious idea cross your mind, reflected in a malicious smile.

You let your hands wander across the desk, between the open papers and notebooks, to Viktor’s hands that were clenched into fists. “What you need is not more work. You need to relax…”

Viktor's body was the victim of a shiver when he felt your fingers approach his hand, his heart skipped a beat when he felt how your fingers tried to loosen their grip on his fist and finally succeeded. He tried to stay still, as if the slightest movement would push you away like a little bird, his gaze followed each of your movements in his hand, caressing his palm and playing with his fingers.

Was he surprised by your attitude? Yes. It was something he had never expected from you. You used to play little jokes on him, like shouting his name or throwing a pencil on the floor to get him out of his almost absolute concentration but... touching him? That was new. Sure, you were the secretary of both of them but you always had to run after Jayce because he was like a clueless child, even Viktor knew that. With him you weren't like that at all, you always gave him his space and kept your distance all the time. That had always made him feel uncomfortable, like he didn't belong to whatever was forming when you and Jayce were together, like he was a sour shadow life to the sidelines of happiness.

“Can I help you with that?” you asked in a whisper.

“I guess so…” He seemed nervous and that increased even more when he felt your hand go up his arm to his shoulder, where with both hands you did small massages on his shoulders and neck. You used to give Jayce massages when he was frustrated and a part of Viktor had always felt a little jealous of that, although he didn't want to admit it, it seemed unfair to him, Jayce had Mel and he really didn't get tired of talking about how wonderful she was and yet he also had you, always fluttering around him, always laughing with you, always accepting your merely friendly touch, always...always making you smile...he wants that.

He couldn't help but gasp when the pressure on his body began to disappear, his body was also enjoying it, after all it was the first time he could feel your touch beyond accidental brushes. He was grateful that you were behind him, he was sure that if you could see his face he couldn't hide how much he was enjoying it.

You looked over your shoulders at your bag hanging on one of the racks next to the door, next to Viktor's jacket. It was time to take advantage of that small purchase. You slid your hands to his neck, massaging even under his hair, making your way and disarranging his shirt in the process until you touched his warm and soft skin. Viktor's hand quickly went in search of his cane, when a shiver ran through him from head to toe with force, the emptiness in his lungs reminded him that he should breathe. But even with that wave of emotions, what he felt the most was the absence of your hands on him.

He quickly turned in his chair to look for you, his eyes traveling around the lab until he saw you near the entrance.

“No…” he muttered to himself as he grabbed his cane and let his shoulder rest on it, hurrying to get to you, but when he had you in front of him the words got stuck in his throat. “Are you leaving already?” he asked, it was the only thing his nervous mind had been able to formulate.

You turned back to face him, hiding something in the palm of your hand, a playful smile spread across your face as you shook your head. “No, I just came… to get something.”

“Oh…” he felt like an idiot, there was no lie that could justify him basically going after you like a lapdog. So he just stayed silent looking for something that would draw his attention more than the shame he felt and he found it, in your hands. “What are you trying to hide?” He asked at your poor attempt to hide what you were carrying in your hands. That helps him regain his composure and look you in the eyes again with confidence.

“It’s a secret” your tone is playful as you dodge him, close enough to smell his coffee and caramel aroma. Your movements are full of grace, even when you bring an extra chair to his desk and push his research away with a slight carelessness.

He can’t help but compare you to a dancing nymph, the air that sneaks through the open window and the bright moonlight support that idea in his head, he doesn’t even mind that some of his papers fly in the wind to his feet, he feels it as if they mark a path to you. Viktor doesn’t hesitate for a moment to return to his desk, shaking his head as a shy smile crosses his face, he can’t help it, it’s what you provoke in him.

He lets himself fall on the seat in front of you, your body shivers with the friction of the metal device on his leg against your knee, he seems to notice it and self-consciously takes a little distance, but you used your foot to work his chair into place before basically having him on the other side of the desk.

“Are you ready to try something really relaxing?” You ask excitedly.

Your gaze is unmistakably on him, finally, his mind screams excitedly and he hides it very well with a nervous movement of his good leg.

“What is that?” He asks finally, he's not good at enduring mysticism.

You open your hands with the same excitement as a circus tent opens to show an endless number of wonders. There's a yellow metal box with rainbow stickers and happy faces painted with marker. Inside there was a green mass and another brown compacted, a lighter, small filters and small papers.

You laughed a little at his attitude. “It's a relaxation method. You're going to like it. Well... maybe not, but you have to try it.”

Viktor massages his chin while he analyzes everything, he has that skeptical look full of curiosity again, you can see the nuts and bolts in his mind turning.

“It's weed.” you confess, his eyes widen and search your gaze quickly, his eyes reflecting surprise. “Oh come on Viktor, what is science if not experimenting with new things? It counts as research.” The tone in your voice is playful, as if you're amused by the situation.

“What effects does it have?” If there was one thing Viktor never dabbled in, it was drugs. Even with his illness, he never thought about trying them. Not because he didn't know about them, they just didn't spark his interest. "I didn't know you were on drugs..." he murmurs, feeling a little foolish, he didn't consider you to be close friends so it's not like you had to tell him about it. A thorn of jealousy stung him when a voice in the back of his mind mentioned that maybe Jayce did know that and many other things about you.

"I don't, it was... a recent purchase, I just know that they relax you and make you feel really good for a few hours." You sigh and rest your head on your outstretched arm on the desk. "Do you want to try it? I mean, we can try it together if you want..." you say as your hand plays with a pencil near you. You don't want to look him in the eyes, you fear meeting a stern look and a big reproach.

"Sure, why not." was his answer, simple and perhaps a little nervous.

“This is going to be fun.”

Viktor watches you carefully as you roll the joint, studying your every action. He watches your hands take the thin, almost translucent paper that shines a little under the moonlight, watching it spread between your fingers as you make sure the sticky side is facing up and out. He look at your hands, soft and the shiny rings on them, and only one thought escapes you.

“I’d like to feel them…”

“What?” you reply to such an unexpected comment.

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “I was rambling,” he tries to justify himself, and you seem to believe him for a second.

“Okay…” Your movements were nervous, caused by the intensity of his gaze, making you more and more nervous about being the center of his absolute attention this time. You delicately crumble the buds. The sticky texture of the resin tried to stick to your fingers, releasing an earthy aroma, you take a bit of tobacco and crumble it up and let it rest on the grass. You take a small little filter and place it on one end. With agile fingers you lift the paper and begin to shape it, making sure everything is well distributed, you roll the paper and Viktor’s soul seems to leave his body when he sees you licking the edge before sealing it with a clean movement. His thoughts are reflected on his face as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks and his Adam’s apple rises shakily.

You offer him the finished joint with a satisfied smile, you hoped you had done all the steps right. Viktor takes it delicately, as if he had just witnessed a sacred ritual.

“What exactly is in it?” he asks, hoping the answer will take his attention away from his own thoughts a little.

“Weed, tobacco, patience…and the desire to share” You joke as you take out the lighter and put everything in the box, before hiding it in one of the drawers of his desk.

Viktor plays with the joint in his hand for a while, examining it. “Should I put it in my mouth?” he asks as you nod softly.

“I’ll light it” you move your chair closer to him, just a few centimeters from each other, you take the lighter from the table and bring it close to his face, with the glow of the flame you can clearly see his blush and how straight he is in his seat “Relax, I’m not going to set you on fire.” you murmured with a soft laugh. He didn’t answer, he just brought his face closer to you, not to the flame of the lighter, your body paralyzed at such a reaction, it was you who brought the flame closer to him and gently lit the joint.

Viktor's first drag was a tragedy in itself, he coughed as if his soul was leaving them while his eyes were watery as if he was dying, he had inhaled it all at once and swallowed it, so it was like watching a chimney moan. You quickly went to his aid by taking the joint from him, taking him to the window to get some air and gently hitting his back to get the remaining humor out of his lungs. Even so, you couldn't help but laugh awkwardly, you tried to hide it so he wouldn't think you were laughing at him but then it was a thousand times more noticeable.

“This can't be healthy…” he mentioned, hitting his back against the wall next to the window.

“Not if you do it like that” you mentioned covering your laughter with your hand.

“Do you find it funny to see me dying in the smoke?”He asked, he didn't seem upset, he just had his arms crossed with a sarcastic attitude, letting his back fall against the wall in the arch of the window.

“No…” you muttered before stopping hiding your laughter and letting it out freely. He just smiled and looked out the window, he felt a little silly about everything that had happened but at least he made you laugh and that was something.

Viktor’s skin crawled as your hand suddenly cupped his cheek. “You have a tear,” you said, wiping the small droplet that rolled down his cheek with your thumb. His arms fell heavily to the sides of his body. Before he could react properly, he let himself enjoy the touch, your touch, the feeling of you coming into contact with his skin. Although it only lasted a few seconds, he could still feel your touch when you pulled away.

“I’ll do it first so you can see, okay?” you said. You took the joint between your fingers elegantly and put it between your lips. You inhaled and held it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. The smoke fell from your mouth and the wind carried it to Viktor, enveloping it in a cloud of smoke before dissipating into the air.

You approached him with slow steps, taking one of his hands and leaving the joint between his fingers. “It’s your turn,” you said, raising his hand to his mouth, “remember, don’t swallow the smoke,” you said in a joking tone.

“Ha ha, funny.” He rolled his eyes and brought the joint to his lips this time. He took a deep drag and held it for a while, holding onto his cane to use his free hand for something.

You were on the lookout for everything, in case he choked on the smoke again.

“Exhale,” you rested your hand on his chest, the small jump his chest made when he felt your fingers against his clothes was clear to you. Smoke came out from between his thin lips like a waterfall, you left your hand against his chest until you felt him breathe again. “My turn,” you said, taking the joint and taking another drag.

After a few puffs, Viktor is more relaxed and begins to notice things he wouldn't normally comment on. He looks at you with the curiosity of a small child.

“You know, you're surprisingly good at… this” he says as he holds the joint ready for another puff. “I thought only Jayce could convince me to do something stupid, but you seem more effective.”

You laughs, it's a rather polite comment coming from him. “Are you surprised? I have my methods.” You reply mischievously.

“Your methods…” he stares at you for a moment and mutters almost to himself. “They should be exclusive.”

As the joint gets smaller, the effect becomes much more noticeable. Viktor's eyes blink slowly and open like a deer's, his pupils almost completely obscuring the warm iris in his gaze. It doesn't take long for him to let out his first ramblings. By this point, they're both sitting on the floor, each in their own corner of the window with their legs outstretched.

“I like your eyes,” he blurts out of nowhere, clinging to his cane as if he were going to fall off if he doesn't. “It's fascinating. Like…like…like you're catching light in a jar.” He says with the sweetest smile you've ever seen. You're a bit stunned by his words, used to the reserved and serious Viktor, this is all a new air, you play along.

“Wow, was that a compliment? I should write it down for posterity,” you say, laughing. You've received compliments before, from people much more sober than Viktor is now, but it's different, that compliment hits differently, behind all the cool and carefree facade that comment manages to pierce your heart and leaves you sighing for that new side of Viktor. As if you discovered how hungry you were to receive something from him.

Viktor replied, with a smile that exuded confidence “You don’t need to write it down. I can tell you whenever you forget.”

You sighed “You’ll regret that so much when you’re sober…” you said. You didn’t want to take his words seriously, after all, believing someone on drugs was like believing someone drunk and that almost never went well. But it was advice that your own mind threw away right now.

While they were talking, Viktor, under the effects of the joint, began to think things that he normally wouldn’t say. “Why are you always so comfortable with Jayce?” he asks, letting his head fall against the wall, leaving his neck and collarbones bathed in light on display.

Confused, you arch an eyebrow “What? Jayce and I are friends, and he’s my boss, it would be terrible if I didn’t get along with him. Why are you asking?”

Viktor turns his gaze to you, you can feel a huge chill as you become his target, his hand playing with the cane at his side.

“You always laugh with him. You always flutter around him.” He says with a certain bitter tone that you can’t quite decipher. “It’s like he’s the only one who can make you laugh, the only one who deserves to enjoy you. I wish to have that.”

His answer surprises and intrigues you at the same time, you lean a little towards him wearing a mocking smile. The window isn’t very big, so it’s not like you’re far away anyway. “Are you jealous, Viktor?” The way you taste his name like honey runs through every nerve in his spine.

He’s clearly blushing, but he doesn’t back down, after all he has nothing to lose, if something goes wrong he’ll blame the drugs for everything.

“Maybe I am. What’s wrong with wanting your attention for me alone? Can't I want you?”

His words momentarily silence you, surprised by his sincerity. Something he takes advantage of to get closer to you, something you never thought he would do, he leans on his cane and before you know it your legs are trapped between his, and his free hand rests on your shoulder, caressing his way to your neck with his fingers. He looks so… surprisingly desperate, his breathing is irregular and his grip on his cane is weak. Having him so close makes the heat emanating from his body combine with yours, your heart is racing to have him so close and you have to use all your will not to do something stupid.

“It’s frustrating, you know? Seeing how you have such a good time with him and then you’re just silent with me… Don’t I deserve your laughter? Don’t I deserve your company?” You don't know how it hurts to want you, to want your smile, to want your gaze only on me, to want your touch desperately and see how you give it to someone else..." A gasp escapes his face and his body collapses, falling on your hip making you gasp in shock, everything is a mess "Want me, just want me."

"Viktor... You're... you're drugged... You're not seeing clearly." Your heart officially stops, his weight is against you, you can't and don't want to move. Each of his words ignites something inside you that could devour everything in its path.

He laughs, maybe because of nerves, maybe because of the effect of the grass or the tingling that your hands leave behind on his body, but he just laughs "I see enough to not want to share you with anyone else."

His gaze, normally focused and distant, now burned with something that seemed uncontrollable. There was tension in the air, a pent-up hunger that exploded the moment your arms wrapped around his neck.

He didn't wait any longer. With a quick, determined movement, he pulled you close, his cane clattering against the floor as he forgot about everything but you. His lips met yours with an almost brutal force, colliding with the intensity of lightning in the middle of a storm.

The first kiss was a chaos of urgency. Your mouths sought each other out like there was no tomorrow, lips parted, deep gasps escaping between each encounter. Viktor pushed you against the wall, his heavy, ragged breathing echoing in your ears. His hands, normally careful, were now hungry, desperate. One moved up your waist, running down your back under the fabric of your clothes, while the other leaned against the wall, locking you against his body.

You let yourself go completely, your fingers burying themselves in Viktor’s brown, tousled hair. His lips moved in a chaotic rhythm, alternating between wet kisses, bites on your lower lip, and that feverish exploration of your tongues that lit up your entire body. The soft sound of your mouths colliding and your panting filled the air, accompanied by your hands that now ran over his chest, his abdomen, without stopping.

When Viktor broke the kiss, it wasn’t to break away, but to drag his lips down your jaw, down to your neck. There, he left a series of wet, almost wild kisses, lightly sucking on the skin with a wet sound that drew a moan from your throat.

“You are...” he murmured against your neck, his voice raspy, broken, “incredible. I don’t want to stop.”

His words felt like caresses, so charged with emotion that your body trembled under his touch. Viktor's hands now slid down your waist, slowly moving up, exploring it with a reverence laden with desire. Each touch was a reminder of how much pent-up passion this man so accustomed to solitude harbored for you.

"Viktor..." you gasped against his neck, but he took your mouth again, cutting you off with another fierce kiss.

The sound of rustling clothes, of uneven breathing, and Viktor's soft grunts as he lost himself in you filled the room. His body was completely pressed against yours, and every movement of his seemed to be aimed at etching his presence into you, as if he feared it could all fade away at any moment.

When they finally broke apart, their lips were swollen, and their chests rose and fell rapidly. Viktor's eyes, normally filled with logic and calculation, were now deep pools of desire and devotion, reflecting every emotion he couldn't put into words.

“This isn’t enough,” he confessed, his voice shaking slightly as he looked at you as if you were the only important thing in the world. “It will never be enough with you.”

Your breathing was still ragged, the air between you filled with an almost palpable heat. Viktor kept his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed, while his hand remained firmly on your waist, as if letting go was unthinkable.

“This is dangerous...” Viktor murmured, although the tremble in his voice made it clear that the idea of stopping was an almost impossible challenge. His fingers continued to absentmindedly trace the curve of your back, as if his body refused to break contact.

“More dangerous than what you do with Hextech?” you replied in a whisper, sketching a slight smile, trying to lighten the tension of the moment.

Viktor’s response was caught in his throat when you both suddenly heard the echo of footsteps in the hallway. You both tensed instantly, your bodies rigid as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over both of you. Realizing for the first time that dawn had already arrived and the sun was rising lazily on the horizon, the weed turned the hours into moments.

“Viktor, are you there?” Jayce’s deep, confident voice echoed just outside the door.

Viktor’s eyes snapped open, his pupils still dilated from the intensity of the moment. He cursed under his breath as he grabbed his cane from the floor, gesturing quickly towards the work table. You understood what he meant.

With your heart about to explode, you helped him stand up and hurried to adjust your clothes and move away from him, although your legs were shaking slightly from the heat still burning in your body. You pretended as best you could that nothing had happened, he walked over to his desk and you grabbed some papers from the floor.

The door opened barely a second later, not giving you time to fully regain your composure. Jayce walked in with his usual relaxed attitude, but his gaze narrowed instantly as he noticed the strange atmosphere that filled the room.

“Am I interrupting something…didn’t you go home Y/N?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking first at Viktor and then at you, lingering a second longer than necessary on your slightly swollen lips.

Viktor, always quick to react, stood up with his cane and pointed at a pile of papers scattered on his table.

“Nothing at all,” he said in his usual tone, though the slight blush on his cheeks betrayed his feigned calm. “We were just going over some calculations and cleaning up your mess.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. He took in Viktor’s messy locks, the flushed cheeks on your face, and that palpable tension floating between the two of you.

“Going over calculations?” he repeated slowly, letting the phrase hang in the air with a mocking tone as he crossed his arms. “Because it seems that something else happened here.”

You forced a nervous smile as you began to organize the papers on the table, pretending the comment was outlandish. “Oh, come on Jayce, what could possibly happen here?” Your heart was still beating like a drum in your ears. Viktor, for his part, adjusted his posture and gave Jayce a sharp look, full of exasperation.

“If you have something important to say, do it quickly. We’re busy.” Viktor’s voice was sharp, as if he were trying to firmly divert attention.

Jayce tilted a smile, clearly amused by his friend’s reaction, but raised his hands in surrender.

“Relax, it’s nothing urgent. I just wanted to ask you something, but I can go get coffee while you finish. I don’t want to… interrupt your calculations.”

The emphasis on the last word followed him to the door, where he gave one last suspicious look before disappearing down the hall.

When the door finally closed, the silence in the room was deafening. You let out a nervous laugh, bringing your hand to your mouth, while Viktor let out a long sigh and let himself lean back against the table, holding himself up with one hand.

“This can’t happen again,” he murmured, though his eyes, still fixed on you, burned with an unmistakable desire that contradicted every word. “I don’t know how you make my brain feel so… scattered and focused at the same time.”

You smile and he replies mischievously as you drop your forehead on his shoulder, your breath brushing his neck. “It’s my secret talent.”

Viktor watches you for a moment and adds softly, “Then, save it for me.”

“Viktor, I think you’re too high to give romantic speeches.” You laugh softly and give him a small pinch on the arm.

“Maybe… but I’m not so high that I don’t know I want more than what’s happened tonight.” His arms wrap around your waist in a hug. His chest heaves with a small laugh. “Shall we have breakfast at my house?”

The answer is more than clear.

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💕Thank you for the 100 followers even though we already passed 4 more, thank you for everything💕

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beqitos · 1 day ago

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⠀⠀⠀ ─── 𝒜𝐫𝐞 𝒴𝐨𝐮 ℛ𝐞𝐚𝐥

✷ ─── 엔하이픈 WHICH IN . . enha blinded by your LETHAL face card . . ✷ : hyungline!enha x fem!reader . . ✷ : fluff fluffy fluff, smooches, petnames, lowercase intended, tell me if im missing anything!! . . 𝒥AZ 𝒩OTES : I'm too hyper rn, and it's 2 am, atp ima take requests, i need to burn myself out . . DRABBLE + NOT PROOF READ . . 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 . .

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

you are currently checking yourself out in your body mirror, reapplying lip gloss, and checking to see if you forgot something from your outfit. you finally finished up some mistakes from your outfit, to turn around and see heeseung not so subtly checking you out. "hee, does this necklace go with this bag, or does this one?", you decided to test him to see if he was even listening. "huh?, mhm? yeah, I think that goes with it..", he shamelessly said. he did not care if you caught him in the act of eyeing you. "baby, yk, you're just so pretty..", heeseung got up from the bed and smoothly turned you around by the waist. "seung, not now—", you were cut off by heeseungs smooth, plump lips meeting your cherry lips. after what felt like forever, you heard a beeping sound outside and your phone dinging in your pocket. "seung— let go! I have to go now—", heeseung brought you back in, a more passionate and aggressive kiss, "they can wait."

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘

you just had gotten out the shower and is ready to do your skincare.. that's until your boyfriend, jay, came into the bathroom. he was always the clingy type more than you, so you always dreaded (but excitedly), seeing him enter. "hey baby, I was wondering what was taking you so long," he grabbed your chin, making you look towards him, and kissed your forehead. "hii, I'm just doing my skincare!" you smiled at him, then continued what you were doing. after a couple minutes of putting your head down in the sink, you looked up and saw jay. admiring you from head to toe, and when you looked up, his eyes went immediate lovesick. "baby.. yk, do I ever tell you, you're so—" he squished your cheeks and pressed sloppy kisses all over your face. you giggled and smiled nonstop, which just made him have even more cuteness aggression. "jay! stop! let me do my skincare first!" you tried pulling away, but jay just pulled you back in stronger, "hmm.. no!"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

it's currently 8 am, your alarm had just gone off, and you have found yourself stuck in jakes strong hold. you tried many things to get out. you've wiggled, stretched, tried shimmering down. yet nothing worked to get out of jakes hold. "jake.. jake.. let me go...", you tried getting up, just to be pulled back into jakes chest. "5 more minutes", he yawned, putting two arms around you. "YOU SAID THAT 10 MINUTES AGO" it was indeed 10 minutes ago, you looked at the clock and it was 8:10 am. "shhh, baby, don't look at the clock—" he had finally opened his eyes, to nonetheless, see a goddesses face. the way the sun shined against your hair, the glow you had, the magnificent aura. "woah..", seeing jake distracted by who knows what, you had rolled over onto the floor, making a loud thud sound. "OWWWW", that's when jake snapped back to reality.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

you and sunghoon right now are currently laughing your butt's off, at the park. sunghoon thought it'd be a great idea to have a get away at the most calmest place he knew. the park. not a playground park, a nice grassy, field where kids and their parents, and dog owners came. "yk, this is the nicest place, you've tooken me so far," sunghoon was shocked by your backhanded compliment. "UH— WHAT. HAS OUR LATE NIGHT DATES MEANT NOTHING TO YOU—" that's when he shut up. seeing the sun behind you glow like a misty, cleansing aura. he just sat there on the blanket yall set up. "sunghoon?? hoon?? helloo?," you snapped your fingers at him. "earth to sunghoon?" sunghoon immediately snapped out of it and pulled you for a deep kiss. of course you were shocked but didn't think anything of it, sunghoon was always weird. "damn, you're a goddess for real.."

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nuemanfilms · 2 days ago

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DOE-EYED BOY S.W

Summary Dean drops Sam off at the Harvelle Roadhouse after a vamp nest. The older Winchester isnt oblivious about Sam’s feelings towards you, he just thinks his brother needs a little push.

Content warnings SMUT!! piv, dirty talk, pet names (Angel, Sweetheart, baby, Sweet girl.), Fem!Harvelle!Reader, based on Jo & Dean from s2, Reader is Ellen’s daughter, semi-public sex, ?rough? sex, Fear of getting caught, teasing, creampie, Dean being an ass, slight plot + more.

notes wow, I have so many ideas and this is one that I actually completed!! 1200+ words.

xoxo, roro!

——

After a vampire nest, Sam and Dean stopped at the Harvelle Bar. Yeah, the motel was in the complete and opposite direction of where your bar was, but Dean knew, despite Sam not admitting it, that he wanted to see you.

Dean tried to hit on you first with cheesy pickup lines, but you didn’t have eyes for Dean. The younger Winchester was more in your view. He was doe-eyed, his brown locks were shaggy, along with his shyness around you in general. He was educated though, he was intelligent. He was skilled as well, you could see why he was the one who made the plans most of the time on hunts.

You became close with the other brother, the doe eyed boy captivating in almost every way.

The Impala came to a halt outside the bar. Sam’s head perked up, his eyes immediately narrowing at his brother.

“Dean-“ The older Winchester cut him off, “C’mon, Sammy! Go talk to her.” Dean had that smug, classic smirk on his face. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t leave it, or back off about it. So, he got out of the car and walked through the door. Dean muttered something inaudible under his breath that Sam couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, though.

When the door pushed open, signaling the bell to ring, your head perked up. The smile that curled up on your lips was contagious, one forming on his as well.

The bar was empty, Sam had a feeling your mother was upstairs since she wasn’t located in the area. Even with a dirty apron wrapped around your hips, you looked beautiful. Sam already had the urge to brush that stray hair out of your eyesight.

“Sorry, we just got out of a Vamp nest and Dean decided to come here so-“ His eyebrows raised when he was cut off with your lips pressing against his. He froze for a moment, before melting into it. He could feel your smile against his lips.

Sam pulled back just a mere inch away from your lips so he could speak, “What about Ellen?-“

“If you’re scared of my mother, she’s upstairs.” You teased, your hand reached down to interlock with his. Pulling him to the backroom behind the bar area.

Once the door shut (louder than it should’ve been), Sam met your lips again. Leading you over to the desk in the middle of the room. He lowered you down onto it, without disconnecting your lips.

Your hand slid the Carhartt jacket off his shoulders while Sam clumsily fiddled with the buttons of your jeans. He spoke again, “Lift your hips f’ me, Angel.” You obliged quicker than you would to do a chore.

Sam slid your jeans off your body, leaving them discarded on the floor. His fingers slid down to your clothed core, instantly feeling the arousal that soaked through your panties. He let out a groan, “Fuck, baby… you’ve been waiting for me?” Sam only got more desperate when he heard your whine. When your hands went to fumble at his belt, he assisted you. Sliding the leather out of its loops and unzipping his jeans quickly.

Your eyes looked up at his, your lips were parted slightly. You trailed your hand into his boxers, Sam let out a hiss at the contact. He was so hard already, and he didn’t think he would last for any foreplay.

“As much- as much as I’d love it, can’t wait, Sweetheart…” Before you could even mutter out a reply, a moan ripped from your throat when Sam flipped you onto your stomach. His fingers teasingly tracing the hemline of your panties before he finally pulled them down. You clenched around nothing just at the cold air hitting your cunt.

Sam wrapped a hand around his length as he guided himself closer to you. His tip brushed up and down your slick entrance.

“God- you’re soaked, baby… ‘s because of me? Or ‘cause you know your mom could come down and see us?” You mewled at his teasing, “Please… Please I can’t wait anymor-“ The moan that came from you was so loud, so pornographic. Sam was stretching you in half… and he was only slightly past the tip. Sam groaned as he sheathed himself inside of you, watching each inch of his cock fitting snugly inside of your pussy.

Sam’s hand slapped against your mouth, trying his best to muffle your noises.

“You’re so loud, Sweet girl… you want us to get caught? You want someone to see my dick inside of this pretty little hole? Stretching it wide?” Sam let out a moan when you squeezed him, despite his dirty talk on being quiet, he wasn’t doing any better. He gave you a few more moments to adjust before he pulled out and slammed back in.

The vulgar whines and cries of his name falling from your parted lips had Sam feeling as if he could combust at any moment. The cool metal of the desk against your stomach made you shiver.

Sam’s thrusts were rapid, rough. He was chasing his own orgasm, using your body like a sexdoll. And you didn’t mind it, fuck, you loved it. You loved it more than you should’ve.

“Mm- Sammy… ‘s so good, need it- auh! Need it harder…” You pleaded with him, Sam let out a dark chuckle at that. You were getting off on this, getting off on his dick slamming in and out of your cunt, on how he used you like you were nothing but a whore.

“Fuck- you want it harder, baby? Shit, i’m gonna give you it.” He said between heavy breaths. Both of your breathing combined was harsh and heavy. And the way you were squeezing around Sam, gave him a clear idea of how much you wanted this.

Your whimpers and whines became more pitched, more frequent. Not that far away from each noise you made. You were close, and that drove Sam to move faster. His hips were set to a bruising pace, and the grip he had on your own was hard. Designed to leave a mark of this encounter.

“Fill me up, Sammy.. I wan’- wan’ to feel it. Need to feel your cum inside me... ple-ase!” The plea was so broken sounded. You sounded like you were on the verge of tears as he destroyed you. Sam grunted hearing your plead for him, just the words you spoke had him pulsing.

He groaned again, “Yeah- Yeah… that’s it. Gonna let me fuck it into this pussy, huh? Need my fucking kids, don’t you?” You nodded, saliva smeared on your lips and the corner of your mouth. Your brain turning to mush.

Your orgasm hit you hard, your vision blinking white as you let out a broken scream of pleasure. Sam followed behind you, moaning at the sensation.

He was careful when he pulled out, your mixed juices threatening to spill. Sam didn’t hesitate in lifting his middle finger and shoving it back inside of your abused cunt. You let out a whimper at the sudden intrusion.

Sam helped you put your clothes back on before he did his own, he constantly kept asking if you were okay or if it was too much.

“Did I do too much- hurt you or anything? You’re okay right-“ You cut him off with a smile, “It was perfect, Sam. You didn’t do anything, I promise.” Sam sighed in relief, before a thought came to his mind.

“You’re sure your mom didn’t hear…?”

#sam winchester smut #supernatural #fem!reader #sam winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #dom!sam winchester

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theetherealbloom · 22 hours ago

Text

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade.

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.”

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?”

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name.

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.

VILLA DI DOMITIA LUCILLA — NIGHT

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.

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alicewrotethis · 2 days ago

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𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩. 𝟐﹒

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! tsukishima does something he know will come back to haunt him ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip k. tsukishima x chubby!fem!reader, nsfw nsfw nsfw ﹒ ◠ note!! playlist i listened to while making this ! angst will be in the next part muahahahahaah😼ALSO IT DOESNT LET ME RPELY TO COMMENTS WAA ౨ wc!! 3.5k <<< part one part three >>>

It had been a few weeks since you said those words to Tsukishima, and it's like they're still fresh on his mind. Ever since then, you've been inseparable, well, as inseparable as you can be. You both grew fond of each other's company and grew well as friends, he even managed to break it off with Etsuko; not wanting her to interfere with your friendship any further. He even told some of the guys on his team about you, only after they wouldn't stop pestering him on who the pretty girl was bringing in his lunches in cute bento boxes. He appreciated what you did for him, and he did his best to show it in his own way, he hoped you could feel it as well.

But it all came to a steady stop a few days ago; nothing bad had happened, you just got busy managing your classes and job and you didn't really have enough time to stop by his practices much between running from the college to the bakery then back again. Tsukishima never said anything about it, he knew you were stressed and didn't wanna seem selfish, though, he desperately missed the times you'd spend together. It's not like you never spent any time with him, you'd still go over to his apartment and hed go to yours whenever but either way your face would be stuffed in a book and papers and never just on him.

It started affecting his days as well, not being able to see you- to really see you.

Today was no exception.

You were sitting on Tsukishima's living room floor, papers and books scattered all around you as well as highlighters and pencils, some music filled the background, your combined playlist you made him join on Spotify. It was a sight Tsukishima had grown accustomed to in these past days.

"You alright down there?" He asked, his tone rather gentle as he studied your form.

It took you a minute to reply, wanting to finish reading the paragraph before directing your attention to him, "Yeah, sorry," You let out a yawn as you stretched your back, your shirt lifting a little to reveal more of your skin, something that didn't go unnoticed by Tsukishima. He found himself noticing these small parts of you more often than usual.

"You should take it easy," He spoke softly, standing up and walking over to where you were seated, promptly leaning down to your eye level and neatly sorting your papers into a stack.

"Sorry for the mess, Tsuki, its just your place is so cozy," You watched as he sorted and piled your books and pencils, you watched how his long fingers engulfed the pencils with ease, and you started to wonder how they'd feel on your skin.

"It's practically the same as your place, since, you know, it's the same complex," He teased, placing your things in your bag as you snapped out of your thoughts.

What were you possibly thinking? How could you think that about your best friend? Maybe he was right, maybe you did need to take it easy, all this stress must've been getting to your head.

"Yeah, but in yours, I get to be near you," You hadn't meant anything by it when you said it, but Tsukishima still developed a slight blush on his cheeks. He hated how much of an effect your words had on him, and how easily you could have him flustered.

"Whatever," He spoke, standing up, "You gonna spend the night?" He wasn't sure why he asked, you've never spent the night at his place since you were right next to him, he just wanted to spend more time in your presence before you went back into your usual busy routine tomorrow.

"Of course, we can have a sleepover Tsuki!" You cheered up at him, still sitting on your knees. Despite how innocent the moment was, Tsukishima couldn't stop his mind from drifting.

"Dont say it like that, it sounds lame," He spoke, "Do you want the bed or the couch,"

You huffed, "Your bed is big enough for the both of us, right?" You stood up and walked towards his room, "I mean it is a sleepover, Tsuki,"

His face flushed once again at the thought of sharing the same bed as you, his bed was in fact big enough, but he wasn't sure he could control himself in such close proximity to you, he could barely stand it now.

Tsukishima wasn't oblivious, he knew what a crush was, and he knew what he was feeling resembled one. But he didn't want to ruin what you both shared, he didn't want to be selfish with you. It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

"Dont call it a sleepover," He sighed, following you into the bedroom.

"Tsuki! I didn't even notice you had glow-in-the-dark stars! That's so cute," You exclaimed, staring up at the dimly lit green stars, you assumed they'd be brighter once the lights were shut off.

"Dont look at them it's embarrassing," He spoke while grabbing his plain black hoodie, and a towel and tossing them your way, "The showers in... well you already know,"

"Thank you," You said shyly as you entered the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. It made you nervous knowing you'd be showering while Tsukishima was out there.

And Tsukishima was no better, he couldn't help but imagine your bare body, he thought about running his hands up and down your curves gently, showing you exactly how riled up you get him, hearing you say his name, god, the way it rolls off your tongue like a prayer. You drove him absolutely wild. He wasn't sure how he'd get through the night with you next to him.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, he was sitting up on the bed, facing the bedroom TV on his dresser, watching whatever show was on your shared Netflix recent played, you begged him to join your plan so you could see what shows he liked watching since he wasn't really the talkative type. He liked that about you, he liked that you always wanted to know more about him.

His eyes scanned you up and down, and he could tell that you weren't wearing anything underneath his hoodie.

"Um, Tsuki?" Your voice called his attention, and he raised his brow at you.

"Do you have any spare, uh," You looked away out of nerves, "Panties.." You meekly said, earning a chuckle from Tsukishima.

"Why would I own panties?" He asked in a teasing tone, adoring the way you got shy so quickly. He wished his hoodie was just a bit shorter.

"Well, do you have anything?" Your face was a deep red as you furrowed your brows, not finding the situation as humorous as Tsukishima did.

"In that drawer, the top one," He pointed with his fingers while watching you walk to the dresser, turning your back to him to grab a pair of boxers. Tsukishima tried to keep his eyes from exploring places they shouldn't.

"Close your eyes," You spoke softly, now facing him.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he complied and you swiftly pulled them up, they fit quite nicely against your curves, it covered you but left nothing to the imagination, not that you cared, you just wanted to feel less... bare.

He opened his eyes when he felt you crawl into bed next to him, taking your phone out of the hoodie pocket and opening TikTok. Tsukishima grabbed the remote and turned the TV down a bit, knowing you liked to blast your TikTok's on full volume, he never complained tho, he found your for you page funny.

He felt his phone buzz, it was a notification from you, you sent him a TikTok, "Why are you sending me stuff I'm right here," He said with a smile looking over at you wrapped in the blankets, your head barely peeking out of the sheets to see your phone screen.

"I dont know, quit judging me sassyshima," You mumbled from under the blanket, you promptly shoved the phone in his face as a TikTok played.

"When my boy bestfriend decides to not answer me like I'm one of his hoes," Tsukishima read the words out loud, earning a giggle from you.

"It's so relatable," You spoke, taking the phone away from his face.

"No it's not, youre probably the only girl in my contacts," He said, his eyes never leaving you.

His words made you sit up and face him, "Tsuki, is this an admission that you," You paused dramatically, "Have no game...?" Your arms held you up against the mattress as you leaned in for dramatic effect.

Tsukishima scoffed, "I have plenty of game, I have a pretty girl in my bed right now," He smirked at you, watching as the familiar blush formed on your cheeks.

You crossed your arms against your chest, puffing your chest up unknowingly, "That doesn't count," You mumbled, taking your place back next to him and yawning.

You shifted on your side, your back facing him in an attempt to hide your blushing face, unconsciously rubbing your ass against Tsukishimas leg.

He felt his dick throb at the touch, and he wasn't sure what he should do, he didn't wanna make it awkward but he also didn't want you to think he liked it- which he very much did; but he didn't want you to know that as it might scare you away. but god he knew he couldn't stand it much longer.

Tsukishima instinctively placed a hand on your hip, not even realizing what he had done before you stopped your movements.

"Sorry, I dont know why I did that," He spoke softly, removing his hand.

You were a flustered mess, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were sure he could've heard it from there, you didn't even know you were rubbing against him and you felt bad for it, the ghost of his hand on your hip left a burning sensation, making warm waves twist and turn in your stomach. Was it wrong to think he wanted you in the way you needed him?

"Tsuki?" You asked apprehensively, shifting so you were facing him.

"Fuck, dont say my name like that," He breathed out, already staring at you. His breaths were heavy, and from what the TV illuminated you could tell there was a deep red adorning his face, the sight of him like this had you clenching around nothing.

"Touch me again," You enticingly spoke. The air was thick with tension, and your body felt hot all over despite the cool air floating around Tsukishimas apartment, "Please, Tsuki," You begged fervently.

Tsukishima was fighting battles in his mind, he wanted so badly to take you right here, to show you how badly he's been missing your presence, but he knew that when the morning came you'd both regret it, the friendship would become awkward, he didn't want that, he didn't want to lose you due to not being able to control himself.

"We can't," He said reluctantly, looking everywhere but you.

"Why not?" You whined out, your whines only making his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

"Fuck it," And with those words he was on you, running his hands all over your soft body, moving his hoodie up, and feeling your bare skin.

You let out soft whimpers at his rough touch, he was feeling you like he'd never get to again, as if you'd disappear in an instant and you loved it.

"Can I take it off, baby?" He asked gently, still feeling you everywhere except where you needed him the most.

His question made you cower under his gaze, there was nowhere you could hide so you brought your hands up to cover your face.

"If you dont want to, it's okay, I'll still think you're beautiful," His voice was smooth and intoxicating, it made your mind go fuzzy and all you could muster was a small nod.

His hands came down to the hem of the hoodie and pulled it off you in one swift movement, and though he couldn't see much with only the TV lighting up the room, what he could see he found perfect.

Before his hands could continue exploring your curves you grabbed his arm, "You too," You shyly spoke, earning a smile from Tsukishima. He complied with your demand and swiftly threw his shirt to the ground. You admired his form and ran your fingers along his build, sending shivers down his spine at your touch. You were finally touching the man who consumed all your fantasies.

Your hips unconsciously bucked against his thigh, earning a small moan from you at the friction. "Touch me, Kei," Your tone was laced with sultry, you had a deep need for his touch, you wanted so badly to come undone on him, for him, to him.

He positioned himself so your legs were on either side of him, and his fingers ran down your soft stomach, and down into the borrowed boxers, eliciting a small gasp at the contact. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck and began kissing and licking as his fingers slid up and down your slick puffy lips, coating his digits in your wetness.

You felt him smirk on your skin, "All this for me?" He smugly asked, even in a moment like this he still had the biggest ego.

"Tell me how bad you want me," He demanded in your ear, kissing the soft skin.

"I need you so bad, Kei, so so so bad," You whined, hating how much he was teasing you.

You felt him sink a finger in, and you let out a hushed moan into his ear, causing him to sink another finger in. He felt your grip on his shoulders as he moved his fingers into you deeper, he loved how you felt around his fingers, the feeling had his dick throbbing in his sweatpants, but he wanted to take care of you first, he wanted to feel you cum all over his fingers.

Tsukishima knew he found your soft spot when you became a moaning mess, rocking your hips on his hand and digging your nails into his skin.

"Yeah? Like that baby?" He whispered in your ear, quickening his pace. His other hand ran up your body to massage your breast in his palm, you felt vulnerable under his gaze, knowing he's touched you everywhere, but the thought only made you clench more around his fingers.

"Yes! More, more, more," You repeated in chants, his thumb came to rub around your clit, making your hips jolt up at the sudden sensation.

"I've missed you so much since you've been busy," His pace was steady, and his slender fingers reached places in you you didn't even know existed, you couldn't barely form any sentences as the familiar feeling of your climax crept up on you.

"Missed seeing your pretty face all the time," He praised in your ear, licking his way from your neck to your lips in a hungry kiss, wanting to taste you.

"You gonna cum?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you as his fingers gradually increased their pace on your clit, the feeling felt like nothing you've ever felt before, it was new, and you were already addicted, his scent was intoxicating and it filled your every pore, you could hear how wet you were.

You nodded profusely, unable to speak due to the loud moans and shrieks that were coming from your mouth, Tsukishima loved the sight of you, a mess all because of his fingers, he couldn't wait to see what you would be like on his dick.

"Look at me, baby, god, I can't get enough of you,"

"'M gonna cum! Tsuki, tsuki, tsuki, please," You were cut off by your own climax, your walls clenched tightly around Tsukishimas fingers as your back arched up into his body, twitching and jolting while he fingered you through your high.

Your clit soon became too sensitive so you wrapped your hand around his wrist in an attempt to halter his movements.

"Tsuki, too much," You whined out, body twitching vigorously.

"Sorry, youre just so pretty," He took his fingers out of you, your walls instantly missing them. You took a minute to regain your composure while Tsukishima slid his sweatpants down and you slid the boxers off.

Tsuki started pumping his dick in his hand that was coated in your cum, the feeling eliciting a low moan. He could've come just by the sight of you.

"Are you ready?" He asked, rubbing his tip against your puffy lips, guiding it to rub against your clit.

You nodded up at him through tired eyes.

"I wanna hear you, baby," He spoke, never losing eye contact with you.

"Yeah, I need you Tsuki," Your voice was soft, exhaustion setting in from your high before.

"That's my girl,"

He guided his tip to your entrance and slowly let it sink into your slick folds, a gasp erupting from your mouth while Tsuki bit hard on his lip, trying to quiet his own groans. It wasn't enough for you though, you needed more of him, and you wanted to take every inch of him.

"More, Tsuki, please," You begged.

His arms were planted on either side of you, holding him up above you, "I don't want to hurt you," And it was true, but a part of him wanted to thrust so deep into you until you took all of him. But this was your first time together, he wanted to take it slow and remember every little sound you could possibly make.

Tsukishima slowly pushed deeper into you and with every inch came a new sound, your fingers were digging into his forearms, and your legs were wrapped around his waist, trying to guide him further into you. The pain felt so, so good to you.

When he finally bottomed out, you felt it, that special spot you had become addicted to him hitting, it felt even better now that you felt fuller.

"Right there, more, please, oh my god," Your back arched upwards and your hips bucked as you started fucking yourself on his dick, you felt him twitch inside of you at the sight.

"Fuck, baby, youre gonna make me cum doing that," He lightly laughed at how desperately you grinded on his dick, his arms moved to your hips, holding them in place and stilling their movement.

"You want more? Huh?" He teased.

"Yes! Stop being mean, Tsuki," You whined, face turning into a frown at the lack of friction.

"Alright, baby, I'll be nice," He smirked before pulling out and thrusting roughly back into you, your eyes rolled back and a shout of pleasure erupted from your throat, your body would've twitched had his grip on your hips not been so tight. He repeated his motion again, only this time he kept doing it at a steady pace. The pleasure sent waves up your spine, you couldn't even think straight, the only thing on your mind was how good Tsukishima was fucking you.

"Been wanting to do this since you made me that cake," He breathed out between moans and thrusts, "You have no idea what you do to me,"

Your hand reached down to your clit but was swatted away and replaced by Tsukishimas fingers, "Such a needy girl, yeah?" It wasn't even processing in your mind what he was saying, all you knew was to agree and take it.

With every thrust, your moans grew louder, every time he hit your soft spot harder and harder, the sounds of skin on the skin filled the room along with your nonsense blabbers about how good he was fucking you.

"Fuck, baby, I'm close," He groaned out, his pace grew sloppier with his thrusts, and his fingers on your clit got faster, "Can I cum inside you?" He asked, leaning down to breathe in your scent.

"Yes, please, please," Your sentence rambled off into noncoherent moans as the familiar knot in your stomach tightened. Tsukishima whispered all sorts of praises in your ear, but one stood out to you.

"Your body is perfect for me, baby," His sentence was enough to drive you over the edge, your walls clamped down tightly around his dick as you let out a shriek of pleasure, chanting his name over and over, it brought Tsukishima to his own climax, and with one deep thrust you felt his cum fill you in warm sputters, his hips bucked through his climax while his head rested on your shoulder, small pants coming from him as he caught his breath.

You both had stayed in that position for a while, seemingly going over what had just happened.

He stood up suddenly, leaving your walls to clench around nothing and you stared up at his glow in the dark stars as he cleaned you off silently

mlist. rules. tags.

tags: @ilovemymomscooking

<< part one part three >>>

#haikyuu #haikyuu ৎ .ᐟ #smut #haikyuu smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei smut #x chubby reader #chubby reader #chubby #haikyuu x reader

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authorpanda15 · 14 hours ago

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SLIDE

(various mha boys reacting to their s/o doing the *usher slide)

↳ denki kaminari x reader, eijirou kirishima x reader, hanta sero x reader, izuku midoriya x reader, katsuki bakugou x reader

a/n: this came to me while I was folding my laundry. also, holy woah, a multi-character work!!!

DENKI KAMINARI

he’s mad that you did it before he could.

when he saw usher was trending, and his fyp started to fill with videos of friends/couples doing this to each other, he knew— he had to do this.

unfortunately, he forgot about it; he only remembered his plan after you surprised him.

the day he decides to get you back, he miscalculates when to slide and accidentally takes you down.

“BABE, I’M SO SORRY! SPEAK TO ME!!”

EIJIRŌ KIRISHIMA

panics for a millisecond when you head to the floor— thinking you had tripped— but when he sees you hold onto his legs with such passion (his words) and start to sing, he just... stands there.

you look up when you don’t hear a significant answer. to your shock, there’s tears in his eyes! when you frantically asked him what’s wrong, eijirou clenched his fist before saying,

“...that’s such a manly way to greet your boyfriend!”

HANTA SERO

he catches onto your plan the second before your knees hit the ground.

he starts cracking up when he hears you humming the tune of “there goes my baby.”

sero finds it hilarious... if you do this in the privacy of your home. in PUBLIC, HOWEVER—

sero’s boisterous laughter is instead flustered giggling as he tries to pry you off the floor.

“...babe, babe– there’s people staring; get up.”

IZUKU MIDORIYA

beyond confused as he almost topples over.

like kirishima, he thought you tripped for a second and instinctively reached out to grab you.

has never seen/heard of the meme, which leaves you feeling a bit embarrassed.

“usher? the american singer? what does he have to do with...? WAIT, DON’T GO! EXPLAIN IT TO ME—!”

KATSUKI BAKUGŌ

he nearly kicks you when he feels you grab him by the legs (training instinct).

at first, he thinks you’re trying to pull a wrestling move on him. but, when he hears you humming, he’s just confused.

yells at you as he tries to pry you off his legs.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! GET OFF ME!!”

*the “usher slide,” for those who might not know:

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #hanta sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

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prettymfwrites · 3 days ago

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𝘾𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙚𝙗

Caitlyn x vi x spidergirl reader

Request by: @twinklestarslight

▀▄▀▄ 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅 ▄▀▄▀

The night was calm, or as calm as it could get in the bustling streets of Piltover. Caitlyn and Vi were on their usual patrol, the chill of the air biting at their skin as they walked through the quieter parts of the city.

“Anything on your side?” Vi asked, glancing at Caitlyn, who was focused on her surroundings.

“Nothing yet. It’s been quiet—too quiet,” Caitlyn replied, her voice sharp with caution.

As if on cue, a loud crash echoed through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fight. Caitlyn’s hand instinctively went to her rifle, and Vi cracked her knuckles with a grin.

“Looks like we spoke too soon,” Vi said, her voice tinged with excitement.

They sprinted toward the commotion, weaving through the alleys until they reached a large, open square. There, they saw her. A figure in red and blue, moving with impossible agility, flipping and swinging through the air as she dodged and countered a group of thugs.

“What the hell is that?” Vi whispered, eyes wide as she watched the masked woman.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Whoever she is, she’s handling them just fine.”

The two stood back, watching as Spidergirl finished the fight with a webbed-up finale, leaving the thugs dangling from a lamppost. The masked hero dusted off her hands before taking off into the night.

“Think we should’ve stepped in?” Vi asked, her gaze following the retreating figure.

“She didn’t seem to need our help,” Caitlyn said, though a flicker of curiosity danced in her eyes.

Unbeknownst to them, Spidergirl wasn’t heading back to some secret lair or hideout—she was heading home. To their home.

---

A Few Minutes Later

You slipped through the window of your shared home with practiced ease, peeling off your mask as you landed silently on the floor. Your muscles ached from the fight, and you were looking forward to a quiet night with Caitlyn and Vi—after a quick shower and some rest.

As you turned toward the bedroom, the sound of the front door opening froze you in place.

“They’re home early,” you muttered to yourself, your heart racing as you heard Vi’s voice.

“I still can’t get over that masked chick. Did you see how she moved?” Vi was saying as she kicked off her boots.

“I saw,” Caitlyn replied. “Something about her seemed... familiar.”

You barely had time to panic before the bedroom door creaked open. Caitlyn stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto your figure.

“Who the hell—” Vi’s voice came from behind her, and she pushed past Caitlyn, her fists already clenched.

“Wait!” you yelled, raising your hands in surrender.

Caitlyn reached for the light switch, her movements slow and deliberate. The room flooded with light, and both women froze as they took in your appearance. Your suit, still half-zipped, and the mask dangling in your hand were dead giveaways.

“Surprise,” you said weakly, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Caitlyn’s gaze hardened. “You have some explaining to do.”

Vi, meanwhile, was pacing back and forth, her jaw clenched and her fists flexing. “Are you kidding me? All this time, you’ve been sneaking out and doing that?” she said, motioning wildly toward your suit.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was going to tell you—eventually.”

“When? After you got yourself killed?” Vi snapped, her voice rising.

Caitlyn stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Vi’s arm before turning back to you. “We’re not angry... yet. But we need to understand. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Your shoulders slumped, and you looked down at the mask in your hands. “I didn’t want you to worry. You two already deal with so much as Enforcers. I didn’t want to add to it.”

Vi let out a harsh laugh, stopping her pacing to glare at you. “Oh, yeah, because finding out like this is so much better.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “You should have trusted us. We could have helped, supported you.”

“I know,” you said quietly, meeting their eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The room was silent for a moment before Vi threw up her hands. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, though her voice had lost some of its edge.

Caitlyn stepped closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. For now, you’re staying put. No more sneaking out tonight. Understood?”

You nodded quickly. “Understood.”

Vi groaned, running a hand through her hair. “This is gonna take some getting used to.”

You offered a small smile. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better,” Vi muttered, though there was a hint of a grin tugging at her lips.

Caitlyn sighed, pulling you into a gentle hug. “You’re lucky we love you.”

You leaned into her, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “I love you too. Both of you.”

Vi joined the hug reluctantly, wrapping her arms around the two of you. “If you ever pull something like this again, I’m locking you in the house.”

You laughed nervously, knowing she wasn’t entirely joking.

_________

𝑰 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔! ❤

#vi fanfic #vi arcane #vi imagines #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #caitlyn fanfic #caitlyn x reader #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #gxg #arcane fanfic #arcane imagine #vi x you #vi x caitlyn x reader #fanfiction #jinx arcane

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clemswinecorner · 3 days ago

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Birthday [Harry Lewis/W2S]

Summary: You and Harry have barely been dating when his birthday rolls around.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing probably, nothing major

Happy Birthday to our favourite!! In honour of his birthday, I wrote this (don't mind this being published when his birthday only has like an hour left)

Main Masterlist

You and Harry had only been romantically involved with each other for a month or two when his birthday rolled around. You’d sent him a birthday text in the morning, of course, but didn’t see him until later in the day. He spent the morning with the Sidemen recording some golf video, and them and his friends would all meet up at his around 5 p.m. You were kind of nervous when you showed up, because it was your boyfriend’s birthday. Especially because the relationship was still so new, you were a bit nervous about how it would go and what the deal would be. You knew his friends since you’d met through Josh years ago, being Freya’s lifelong best friend. You made your way into the friend group when you moved to London, and had celebrated his birthday with him plenty of times before, but this year was different. It was Josh who opened the door, not Harry, and you greeted him with a smile.

“Ah, look who’s here!” You give him a quick hug and greet Callum, who was just walking out of his room, with a smile. “I’ll tell him you got here, yeah?” He says, before he walks back to the living room. Harry’s roommates were both aware that you guys are more than friends, though you hadn’t explicitly told them. You’ve just taken off your coat and shoes when Harry walks in. “Oh, hello,” you turn around to him and smile. “Hey birthday boy,” you smile, holding out your hands for a hug, which he accepts. You smell the sweet cologne he usually wears when recording on his hoodie, as he holds you tight. You lean back, still looking at his face with your hands around his neck. “Happy birthday, my love!” You smile, placing a kiss on his lips. You can feel a smile form on his face as he pulls you closer to him. “Thank you, baby. Glad you could make it,” you jokingly roll your eyes. “What, you think I’d miss your birthday? I haven’t in years,” He lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, no, you haven’t. You look really nice, by the way,” he tells you, finally able to check you out. “Thank you. Now, do you want your present now or later?” You ask, and you interrupt him before he’s able to talk. “I know I didn’t have to get you anything, but I wanted to,” He smiles at your kindness, “Okay, thank you. I don’t know, I think a few people want to do it during dinner, but up to you,” You nod and think about it for a second. “I’ll give it later, then,” you say, dropping your tote bag on the floor. He nods, and walks back into the living room, with you following him. You greet everyone enthusiastically, not having seen most of them for a while.

At around half six, Harry walked up to you, nudging your side. You turn your attention away from Simon, who you were in conversation with. “I’m going to get changed, and then we’re going, yeah?” You nod, excusing yourself as you put down your empty glass. You quickly pack two wrapped presents out of your bag, before you walk into his bedroom. He turns around, his shirt already off. You still weren’t tired of that view, and you shameless looked him up and down. He was already in his black trousers, and it was a shame he had to put on a shirt. “Sorry, could’ve knocked,” You softly say, and he shakes his head, “No it’s fine, was just confused who it was.” He sticks his arms through the sleeves, and god, this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. You sit on his bed, and he looks at you curiously as he buttons his shirt. “Sorry, just admiring my view,” you admit, and you can see a slight blush spreading on his neck and chest. He doesn’t say anything back. , nervously smiling as he focuses on his shirt. “Anyway, I have some presents with me as well,” He looks up again with a smile, taking a seat next to you. You first hand him a flat, squared present, making him look up curiously. “Did you talk to Cal about this?” He asks, glancing over to the record player that was still in its box in the corner of his room. You shrug, not wanting to give away anything. He carefully unwraps it and takes out the vinyl cover. “Oh wow,” he says, looking at the cover on the front, a photo you took of him and his friends last Halloween. He smiles, looking up at you, before he goes back to inspecting the cover and turning it around. He looks up at a soft smile of the picture of you looking at him, love evident in your eyes, and him looking down laughing. “Wow, that’s amazing. Is there an album in it?” He asks, looking at the pictures again. “So, Callum did mention to me how they were getting you a record player, yes. It’s, err, actually been custom pressed, it says the songs on the cover as well,” His eyes widen. “Oh wow, that’s incredible. Holiday pub golf version oh I love that,” looking on the A side, which had the picture with his friends. He turns it around, reading the B-Side, “Tiny Dancer, Elton John, oh that’s the one that played when we went on our first date, isn’t it?” You nod, and smile at the memory. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you’d remember that. Side A is like, Sidemen related songs, and like, Wild Ones and then the other one is like… Songs that remind me of you, and us,” she explains. “Ooh, Wild Ones, that’s a gem. Wow, thank you, this is really cool,” he embraces you, setting the Vinyl down on his bed for a second to embrace you. “Thank you, that’s wonderful,” he whispers, pulling back to give you a kiss. You smile, and kiss him back, the same butterflies exploding as the many times before. “Harry, we have to get to the restaurant,” You remind him when you take a second to catch your breath. “Yeah, yeah.”

The group arrives at the restaurant around seven, walking there from Harry’s place. You and Harry go in first to inform the staff of the reservation, whilst the group waits outside and chats. Because it was a slightly bigger group of about 15 people that were all relatively well known, he’d rented the small upper floor that was a small extension of the restaurant that would normally fit about twenty people. You go outside to get the rest of the group and enter the cosy room, that has a classy Italian aesthetic. They’d put the tables together, so everyone could fit around, and you take place next to Harry and Callux, Ethan sitting on the other side of Harry and Chip and Callum sitting across from you. You grab his hand under the table as everyone orders their drinks, shuffling a bit closer. When everyone has ordered, the boys decide it’s time for presents, before people get too drunk or too engaged in conversations. The boys make their rounds, at least the ones that didn’t give him anything already, before it gets back to you. Harry looks at you, not expecting you to have anything from him, as you get a small box shaped wrapped present out of your bag. “Y/N, you already got me something,” He lowly says, “No, it’s just something small, please just open it,” you ask, giggling at the thought of the present. Harry reluctantly takes it, tearing off the wrapping paper. He looks at the box, opening it to reveal six golf balls. “Wait, are these…” He looks at you with a laugh on his face, and you nod. “Oh my god, that’s amazing,” he lets out a genuine laugh, taking out one of the golf balls to look at it closely. Ethan looks over, also laughing at the images on the balls. A few of the guys look confuse, so you look at them to explain it, “They’re golf balls with pictures of me on them,” you tell them, and everyone laughs, wanting to see them. When Harry has the box in front of him, now empty as the balls are being passed around, he turns towards you. “Thank you, baby, I love that,” he says, leaning a bit closer. This was kind of dangerous, knowing his friends all surrounded you, but you didn’t really care. They’d know at some point anyway. “It’s just a silly thing, but I’m glad you like it,” you say, looking into his eyes you can see his smile in. He leans closer until your lips are touching, whispering another thank you before he gives you one last peck, moving back. He moves his arm onto the back of your chair, lightly grazing your shoulder, as you see Josh looking at you with raised eyebrows. Tobi clears his throat, “Anything you want to tell us, guys?” Harry’s eyes widen at the realization of what he’s just done, and you give him a reassuring smile. “Oh. Well, we’re, like, together. Please no big deal though, we’re just, you know,” Harry rambles, and you smile, taking his hand under his table. He briefly looks at you, and relaxes when he realizes you’re okay. “Ayy they both finally did it, everyone give it up for Harry and Y/N!” Chip exclaims as everyone cheers, and you hide on Harry’s shoulder as you chuckle in embarrassment. You sit up again and see Callux give you a small smile, leaning closer to you. “I’m glad you have each other, he has been happier because of you. And you seem more yourself, too. I’m glad,” he shared, making you smile. “Thank you, genuinely. And also for not really asking, took us a while to figure out what we wanted,” she admits, and he nods, “Of course. Oh, is it time for the thing yet?” He changes the topic, and you look back at Harry laughing with Ethan, Simon, and Callum. “Oh, yeah, can you ask Theo? He has the present,” Callux nods as you turn back to Harry, nudging him. “There’s one more present,” You say, interrupting the conversation. The boys all look at you, understanding the signal to shut up, and Harry frowns, trying to work out whom he missed.

Theo speaks up, “Okay, so, this is from all of us, really,” he tells him, looking around the group. “I do think I speak for all of us when I say you mostly have Y/N to thank, though, because she did a wonderful job working it out, but it’s a bit of a group effort, from us, to you,” He explains, handing over a square, somewhat thick, package. Harry looks around the group curiously as everyone expectantly watches him unpack it. “Harry through our eyes, a reminder of our love for you,” he reads curiously, opening the book. He opens it to a written page surrounded by group pictures of him and his friends and family. ‘Harry,’ it reads, ‘You’ve done so much for all of us, we wanted to give you something back. You mean so much to every single one of us individually, and you deserve to know. This is who you are through our eyes, hopefully you see the same magic we do in you.’ He looks up around the group, before he flips to the next page filled with crazy pictures of him. He lets out a chuckle, turning the page to see a combination of written texts and pictures. “You can read it all later, but it’s basically all of us and some more people sharing what they think about you. Stories, pictures, memories. Your parents and siblings are in it as well. Just, for whenever you need it,” you explain, as he flicks through the book. “Wow. Thank you guys, wow, that is so, umm, my god. Thank you,” he says, truly meaning it. You smile, resting your hand on his thigh. You make relaxing motions, Harry clearly a bit overwhelmed with his emotions, as he briefly looks through. “Oh wow, these are old,” he chuckles, looking at a picture Chris had taken of him the first time they’d met. He looks around the group once more. “Thank you guys, thank you,” He expresses once more, and everyone reacts with a smile, “Of course,” or some other form of reaction. Harry kisses your cheek as a thank you as he turns to you once more. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.” You smile, looking into his eyes. “You deserve to know how loved you are.”

#wroetoshaw #harry lewis #w2s #w2s x reader #w2s fic #w2s imagine #harry w2s #sidemen #sidemen x reader #harry lewis x reader

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littleslaywrites · 2 days ago

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pas de deux- adagio | spencer reid x bau!reader

pt 2 of pas de deux - based on request by @kakamixoxo

summary: you substitute for your friend who is a ballet teacher, and spencer helps you work out your lesson plans. set like 3 months after part one.

word count: 1.3k

cw: f!reader, literally just straight fluff, brief mention of past injury

Spencer was never graceful. You’d seen him trip over enough curbs to know. Luckily for him, you thought his awareness was endearing, like a six foot tall baby deer.

You were the opposite, poised from your years of ballet training. You were finally off of your crutches and back in the studio. When you first started your internship at Quantico, you took classes at a local studio. The teacher who was in charge of your class became one of your first friends in Virginia, and you had stayed close ever since.

When she called you asking to fill in for her while she took a week long vacation, you jumped at the opportunity. You thought it’d be the perfect way to get back into dance after your recovery.

One night after work, you went to the studio to work on what you planned on teaching. Spencer insisted on going with you, claiming he was worried you’d hurt yourself again. Truthfully, he just wanted to watch you dance.

Spencer was your biggest fan. You try not to think about the money he’d spent on tickets to your shows, gifts themed for each one, and date nights afterwards. So, naturally, if he had the chance to see you alone, in your natural habitat of the ballet studio, he was going to take the opportunity.

Arriving at the studio, you changed into a leotard and sweatpants while Spencer sat on the wood floor of the studio. He felt awkward surrounded by the walls lined with barres and mirrors, your world feeling foreign to him.

You step into the room, joining him on the floor to stretch.

“You know, it’d help to have a student to practice my lesson plans on,” you say, stretching to the side as you touch your nose to your knee.

“Would it?” Spencer replies.

“I’d get stretching if I were you,” you say. He tries to follow your lead, but his inflexibility hinders him. You giggle at him, trying to figure out how to help him follow along.

Eventually, you give up, standing to lead him to the barre.

“Since the class is for early elementary schoolers, everything is for beginners, which means you’ll be perfect for testing it out,” you say as you take hold of the barre, facing him.

He mirrors your action, saying “I’m glad to know I have the same skill set as a five-year-old.”

You giggle at him, and turn out your feet into first position. “Can you do that for me?” you ask, watching his feet.

He clumsily shuffles his feet along the floor, gripping onto the barre.

“Not like that Spencer, turn out from your hips.”

He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand from the way he scoots around. “Like this?”

“Not exactly... here, let me—“ you adjust him yourself, grabbing just above his knee to try to pry him into first position.

He gets it down after about a minute of fumbling, finally in a successful first position, despite his arms still swinging without grace. “Is this right?” he asks, proud of himself.

“Sure,” you say, letting himself bask in his small victory. “So first we’ll do the plié combination.”

“That means ‘fold’ in French,” he replies.

“Right,” you dismiss him, trying to move onto the next set of instructions. Before you can, he bends at the waist, assuming the step based on the translation.

“Oh, Spencer, that’s not—“ you pull him up by the back of his shirt. You giggle at him, causing him to follow suit. “Your genius doesn’t exactly extend to ballet, honey.”

He pulls you in for a quick kiss. You let him, but before he can prolong it, you step back. “You know, you’re not as helpful as I expected you to be.”

He juts out his lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m trying my best,” he sighs, looking up at you with the puppy dog eyes he knows you can’t resist.

You sigh, matching his pretend exasperation. “It’s just a bend at the knees, like this,” you say while modeling the move. His eyes are trained on you, trying to take in every movement you make. He tries to match you, but his height makes everything he does look rather gangly.

You try to fake that you’re impressed, but he sees right through you. “Maybe it’s because I’m still in my work clothes,” he gives you a goofy smile.

You smile back. “That has to be it,” you reply, giving up on the idea of trying to teach him.

“When do we get to the part where I lift you up?” he asks, moving close to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Usually you have to master the basics first,” you raise your eyebrows at him, “but we can give it a try.” He releases you to swiftly grab you just above your knees, carrying you to the center of the floor.

“Spencer, I don’t think this is an official move,” you giggle, feet wiggling in the air.

“Then I invented it, so they can name it after me.”

“The Reid Potato Sack lift?” you tease him as he sets you on the floor, hands sliding down your back as you roll off his shoulders and put your feet on the ground. He keeps hold of you, swaying as his arms cage you close to his chest.

“What am I supposed to teach these kids tomorrow?” you say when he leans down and captures your lips in a light kiss.

“Are you saying I’m a distraction?” He pinches your side.

You squeal, responding with a simple “yes”.

He smiles, backing up while taking one of your hands. He brings it above your head to prompt you to turn. You twirl under him, looking at his smile when you make your way around to face him again.

“Teach me a lift,” he says, eyes telling you it’s a genuine request.

“Okay,” you start, moving so you’re both facing the mirror. “Here’s an easy one. I’m going to lift my leg in an arabesque and you'll lift me like that.”

He nods, hanging on to every word you say. You move one of his hands under your ribs as you raise your leg. You move his other to the top of the thigh that’s raised in the arabesque.

“You’ll just bend your knees and lift,” you say. He does as you say, lifting you until you’re above his head. You raise your arms, scrutinizing your technique in the mirror.

Spencer is also watching you in the mirror, but not to judge your extensions or turnout. Instead, he was admiring you. He could feel the love you had for ballet in your focus. He loved to see you in your element. Of course, he saw the way you excelled as a profiler from the time you started your internship, but the passion you had for your art was what he truly admired about you.

In that moment, he thought he could watch you forever, but you interrupted his thoughts saying, “you ought to put me down now, Spencer.”

Reluctantly, he eased you to the ground, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you both faced the mirror.

“I think we might have actually found a ballet step you’re good at,” you say, smiling at the way he leans down and rests his head on your shoulder.

“All I did was stand there,” he replies, smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

“Exactly,” you say, blushing under his stare.

His hands move down to your waist, and he pulls you to face him. “I’ll stand and do nothing forever,” he says as he rests his forehead against yours, “if I can watch you dance."

You smile as he kisses your forehead and pulls back to look at you. Reluctantly, you pull away, grabbing your phone out of your bag to figure out the music you were going to use in class.

Plugging it into the speakers, you glance into the mirror to see Spencer still staring at you with a lovesick smile on his face.

“Stop staring,” you say smiling. “It’s distracting me.”

“Only when you stop distracting me by being so cute.”

You roll your eyes at the cheesy comment, heart secretly jumping at the obvious love he had for you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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affableramen · 15 hours ago

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no nut november. when they try to unnoticeably watch you undress

ᡣ𐭩 mature themes, spicy but not smutty, pre-relationship

ᡣ𐭩 neuvillette, pantalone x fem!reader

Neuvillette

“Here, I wholeheartedly hope you’ll find them to your liking. I’m deeply sorry the rain soaked you, you must have least expected that.”

“It’s alright, though I’m soaked to the bone, I have monsieur Neuvillette taking care of me”, you smile widely at him as he hands you the bag full of clothes. The sovereign dragon had no problem flying to the nearest mall and buying you new clothes in order to replace your soaking ones. You can’t fly, but he doesn’t want you to catch cold right in front of his eyes.

You opened the bag and took a look at the clothes. They were really fancy ones, and Neuvillette’s sharp intuition guided him into the right size.

“Wow, monsieur Neuvillette they are all my size. They should all fit.”

“I’m extremely glad in that case”, he clears his throat. “I will leave you to change. I’ll wait in the vestibule.

“Of course.”

He reached the exit and closed the door behind him but a really thin hole could give a quick peek to someone who was in the room. Neuvillette was above taking that chance and did not plan on witnessing you get rid of your soaked layers of clothes—he’s already probably seen too much, given how your white tight shirt would stick to your cleavage.

He sighed. Perhaps you already started undressing. These nasty thoughts wouldn’t come off from his head and would not leave him alone. Neuvillette entirely missed the moment when he started thinking dirty of you. All this sexual stuff was so new and unlike him. But knowing that you were soaked and changing in his office made him experience the most obscene thoughts lingering on the bottom of his mind.

“Please tell me once you’re finished”, he cleared his throat. “Unfortunately we’re so busy today I cannot give you more time than I would prefer.”

“I understand”, your voice sounds louder, you must be heading right to the door. “I finished, monsieur, and I thank you so much for getting me those.”

Once you open the door you’re met with an incredibly perplexed and almost embarrassed stare.

“Do leave me a receipt, I shall cover them all.”

“Nonsense. It was a gift.”

“I’m afraid I cannot accept gifts from my employer.”

“Please do, after all I’m partially the reason you’re caught up in the rain; had I not asked you on your day off you would not have gotten targeted by unappealing weather conditions.”

“You’re too kind to me, monsieur.”

You go back to your cubicle not realising how deeply Neuvillette experienced desire to see more of you—a single more inch of your delicate skin.

Pantalone

“Here, this should be your size. You agree how this one is less tight and more comfy than your original outfit, don’t you?” Pantalone gives you a sweet smile, his eyes shut when he does so, and his long black eyelashes stand out proudly on his face.

“This should do. If I knew we had a training today, I wouldn’t wear my formal dress at the first place.”

You take the neatly wrapped training sport suit from his indigo-gloved hands and give it a quick quality check.

“This one is really well made. I truly like it.”

“Did you doubt our private tailors?”

“Not one bit, Regrator”, you turn away from him, facing the window, your skin glowing lit and bright in the face of Pantalone’s dark figure.

“Your formal tight-fit dress deserves a reward, sweetie, but you might have difficulties fighting in it.”

“I have no problem wearing the outfit you provided me with”, you say as you start quickly changing. Regrator’s interest is picked when he hears the ruffling of clothes. His ears perk up to each sound coming from you, but he stays turned away, with his back facing you.

“I’m glad if so.”

Just when what seems to be heavy fabric sound dropping onto the floor grabbing Pantalone’s attention, he swallows a heavy feeling in his throat. He knows what part of you is presumably naked right now and fight the urge to not peek. He is a gentleman, not a dog in heat.

But when you unclasp your bra to put the sport top on, Pantalone’s head slowly turns to your side. He takes a very subtle, quick look of the curve of your shoulder and arm. Your back muscles fascinate him. Afraid that you might notice him—what are you going to think?—he immediately looks away and forces a fake polite smile as usual.

“Well, how long am I going to wait? Tick-tock, my dear.”

“Have you never undressed a woman before? Surely you know it’s difficult to be quick.”

“Oh…”

The later process is surrounded by utter silence. Upon you finishing, Pantalone who has been dying every second while you were changing, says at last:

“Not bad.”

“Think so too.” You aim to the exit, but he grabs your shoulder. You’re suddenly stopped, but he immediately softens his touch and loosens his grip, his hand rubbing your shoulder as if giving you a massage. The gesture feels somehow encouraging and intimate at the same moment.

“Be careful, alright? I fancy seeing your body back in one piece.”

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette x you #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #pantalone x reader #pantalone x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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in1-nutshell · 2 days ago

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Welp, Ironhold and Ophelia are now all in TFA along with Silveraid. I’d like to request that we make the family even bigger by adding TFA Fearless. A random kid that just found the base and proceeds to tom and jerry their way around the base until the Decepticons just accept them.

Introducing TFA Fearless!

Hope you enjoy!

TFA Fearless

SFW, Platonic, Slight Familial, Human reader

TFA

The Decepticons had faced many foes and obstacles in their lifetime.

Most of them being Autobots and the rare occasion of a different alien species.

But this, this had to be one of the biggest foes they had faced yet.

One might be thinking it be a large Autobot like Omega Supreme.

And they’d be wrong.

The mighty foe was none other than a human.

A human that got on everyone’s nerves.

None of the Con’s knew how exactly they human knew where their location was or why they came inside willingly.

All they did know was the puny organic loved to mess with them.

Starscream is walking around the base. The little human was on a ledge holding a can of silly spray. The human jumped off the ledge. Human: “Geronimo!” They land on his helm and starts spraying everywhere with the silly string. Starscream: “AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! GET THIS THING OFF ME!!!” Later… Megatron is sitting on his throne so no one can see the writing of ‘KING CON’ on his lower backside. Megatron: “Lugnut… what is that?” Lugnut has a drawing of a mustache on his faceplate. Lugnut: “The human came in while I was asleep My Lord.” Blitzwing is next to him with even more doodles on his faces. Blitzwing: “You think?!”

The Cons have tried to catch the human before.

But it usually ends up with them gracefully evading each trap or taking it apart.

Even when Lugnut and Blitzwing attempted to recreate traps they had seen humans use to keep rodents out of their homes.

The human walked away happy that day with an entire wheel of parmesan cheese

Some Cons have started looking up on the internet to see if the human is some sort of urban legend or cryptic.

The human was given the nickname Fearless.

Though it was meant to be a way words compliment about them being the most fearless being the first to get terminated.

Fearless wore that name with pride, now referring to themselves by the name when they came by the base.

Finally, the Cons decide to ignore the human in hopes that it would just leave on its own.

The human quickly notices the shift and is a bit weirded out by it.

Fearless tried amping up their tricks but the Cons use every ounce of self-restrain to not pay any attention to them.

Slowly the human stops making their usual appearances, which to the Con’s shock found worrisome.

They had gotten used to the little vermin antics that now the base seemed much quieter.

Megatron found himself looking around the floor more often than what he’d like to admit.

Starscream as much as he hates to admit it, missed the little laughter the human made.

Blitzwing and Lugnut have both been caught leaving food and ‘toys’ out to see if the human would come back.

Blackarachnia missed the human playing pranks on Starscream.

The Con’s are going through their usual business, though it’s a bit slower than usual. Fearless quietly walks into the base with a large backbag. They look confused at the slightly sulking Cons. Fearless walks up to Blitzwing’s pede and taps it. Blitzwing ‘Icy’ looks down surprised. Fearless: “Hey Blitzy, whats up with everyone?” Blitzwing ‘Random’ squeals as he scoops up Fearless and turns to the other Con’s. Blitwing: “THEY’RE BACK! FEARLEZZ IZ BACK!!!” Fearless is a bit dizzy by the sudden scoop and gets picked up by the helm of their shirt by none other than the Leader of the Decepticon’s himself. Megatron: “You best have a good excuse for the sudden reclusion, human.” Fearless looks confused before giving him a smug look. Fearless: “Aw! You guys missed me? Even after giving me the cold shoulder for about a month?” There is a lot of stuttering and denying from all the Con’s. Fearless has their arms crossed almost playfully. Fearless: “So, am I gonna get an apology? Cause I can always just go—” They are interrupted as they are placed on Megatron’s shoulder. Fearless can feel him grumbling with an apology low enough for them to hear. They laugh a bit, patting Megatron’s helm while giving him a genuine smile. Fearless: “Apology accepted King Con.”

The Con’s are protective of their little ‘pet’, a title that is not fooling anyone.

Fearless was now a part of their team.

No, they did not help with the Decepticon cause, they were more of a mascot that was just happy to be there.

Now being fully accepted by the Con’s Fearless’s pranking had gone down a bit and showed a bit of a softer side of the human.

Lugnut is walking through the base carrying a crate. The human quickly jogs by his side. Fearless: “Lugnut! Hey Lugnut!” Lugnut: “What?” The human looks at him concern. Fearless: “You, okay?” Lugnut is caught off guard. Lugnut: “Erm…” Fearless: “You don’t usually do these rounds yet, and you look a bit stressed.” Lugnut tries again to ignore the human. Fearless: “Is everything okay? You can talk to me if you want.” Lugnut: “And why would I talk to you?” Fearless: “I think just its better to unload some things from your mind before they get bigger. And what better way to unload it on someone who has no connections to you and your cause!” Lugnut looks a bit unsure. Lugnut: “… You will listen?” The human smiles at him reassuring. Fearless: “No judgement here big guy. Lay it on me!” A couple minutes later… Lugnut is on the ground while the human was patting his helm sympathetically. Lugnut: “I just really miss my Conjunx!” Fearless: “Umm, what’s a Conjunx again?” Lugnut: “I believe it is something similar to a spouse in your language.” Fearless: “Wait your married!?” Later… Fearless, Blackarachnia and Blitzwing unroll a large spread of paper. Blitzwing ‘Random’ is using a mop to paint Fearless’s hands and feet. ‘Random’: “Vhat iz the next part?” Blackarachnia: “This seems pointless.” Fearless: “Hush! Now let the master work their magic.” Fearless starts walking on the giant paper, leaving their footprints and hand prints in a certain pattern. The process repeats until there is a flower in the paper. Blackarachnia blinks a bit surprised. Blackarachnia: “That was… unexpected.” ‘Random’: “OOOOOOHHHHHH! Now my turn!” Even later… Starscream is on his berth sprawled out while Fearless is on his chassis. Fearless: “Have you, I don’t know, maybe stop trying to terminate Megatron?” Starscream: “And why would I do that? I am so close to becoming the Leader the Decepticon’s need!” Fearless: “Have you tried being the Second in Command the Cons need instead?” Starscream goes to retaliate but stops. Fearless: “It would Definity get you some brownie points if you started being nicer to some of the Con’s.” Starscream: “…What are Brownie points?” Even more later… Fearless yawns a bit, clutching their blanket. They spot Megatron’s pede, they sit down and lean on it. Megatron looks down. Megatron: “What are you—” Fearless was now deep asleep on his pede. Megatron blinks before carefully scooping them up and letting them rest on his servo. He gently strokes their back as they snuggle closer into his servo. Megatron: “Foolish human…”

#transformers x reader #maccadam #human buddy #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader #fearless buddy #tfa fearless

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baocean · 1 day ago

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make up - jj maybank

(gif credit to @devilsmenu)

jjmaybank x kook!reader

summary: after jj hooked up with your best friend, you wrote both of them off. it’d been easy to ignore the both of them, until you came face to face with him.

warnings: sex baby, spitting, swearing

you were sure there was nothing more that you hated than jj maybank.

you never give into the stereotypes of pogues vs kooks, but you couldn’t help but despise that blond pogue.

sitting on a couch at the random house party with your friends, you weren’t even sure why kooks and pogues tried to party together, it never ended well.

sarah cameron walked by with john b, hand in hand, sarah’s free hand waving at you as they passed.

mya, maria, and alex sat with you, talking amongst themselves as you stared at him over your drink.

his blond hair was in his face, shaking back and forth as he laughed. he was talking to one of his friends.

like he knew you were looking at him, his eyes flicked over to you.

you rolled your own. adverting your attention back to your friends, trying so desperately to not look back at him.

but you were done with him, for good. after he got with your best friend, even though you both agreed you weren’t going to hook up with other people, you cut them both off.

the entire island knew you hated jj and that he hated you, but behind closed doors, the quiet sweet nothings and hours wrapped in his sheets told different stories.

he had called you close to a hundred times, texted you twice as much.

you were done. so, you wouldn’t look back at him.

jj hadn’t been there for more than an hour before he was getting into a fight with some kook.

you got up to see what the commotion was about, groaning when you saw jj lay a punch on the guys face. so typical of him.

and somehow, he found you in the crowd, smirking like crazy at you, right before he got hit again.

you didn’t even flinch, because you’ve seen this jj too many times to count. the no good, nasty side of jj.

he spit blood, laughing as he grabbed the guys head and brought his knee up to hit him again.

the kook went down, not getting back up right away. a few people ran to check on him, you just stared at jj.

the arrogant smirk on his face dropped when he saw the look on your face. you turned and walked away.

you headed up the stairs to the second floor, looking for a bathroom to get some space from everyone.

“sweetheart, where you going?” his voice insighted something close to rage in you, motivating you to keep walking.

“don’t ignore me.” his voice was closer, much more demanding now.

it was hard to, even if you had been doing it this past week. everytime he texted you or called you, you wanted to answer. but he hurt you, so you wouldn’t.

“fuck off, jj.” your voice was harsh as you opened a door, finding an empty bedroom, deeming it good enough.

“oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” he cooed, a laugh following. you knew he’d walk into the bedroom with you, closing and locking the door.

“can you not take a hint? i don’t want to fucking talk to you.” you finally turned, almost surprised to see the state of his face. there was blood coming from his nose, a bruise already forming on his cheek, more blood coming from his mouth.

“don’t care. i want to talk to you.” he shrugged.

“well, you look like shit. let me fix you up first.” you shot at him, hoping it would falter him.

of course, it didn’t, not much did. “my girl gonna take care of me? how sweet.” he was so bitter, but so addictive.

“i’m not your girl. get that into your head. just can’t stand looking at you.” you gave him a mean smile, huffing as you walked into the connected bathroom.

he followed you in, watching as you fumbled around with things under the sink, grabbing a cotton pad and running it under the water.

“come here.” you words were laced with annoyance.

this happened too often. it’d only been a week since jj hooked up with your now ex best friend. you were still familiar with this scene. him coming to you, covered in bruises or blood. whether it be from his father or some random kook. he’d come find you, you’d take care of him.

“so bossy. just the way i like it, sweetheart.” he tittered. you wished you had some sort of alcohol instead of water, to sting his wounds.

ignoring him, you dabbed off the blood from his mouth, wiped away off his nose.

“you hate me now?” his demeanor dropped, looking at you in the way he only looked at you when he was really upset.

“always have, especially now.” throwing away the cotton pad, you went to wash your hands.

“i’m sorry.” he sighed.

“you’re not, you just want to hook up with me.” turning back to him, you shook your head, then laughed.

“i do, i won’t fucking lie. but i am sorry. miss my favorite girl.” he reached up to play with the ends of your hair.

“oh, who’s your second favorite? pia?” you laugh at him.

“look, that was a mistake. really, i fucked up. i know.”

“glad you figured that out.” you pat his shoulder, heading out of the bathroom.

“sweetheart, please. give me one more chance. i won’t mess it up, i won’t.” jj grabbed your arm, pleading with you.

you sat there for a second, contemplating. you hated jj, but you missed him. you hated being alone these past few days, after being so familiar with calling jj over.

“fine.” you rolled your eyes, not letting jj’s celebration affect your features.

he pulled you into a hug, before quickly drawing back and kissing you.

his hand came up from your waist to your face, gently rubbing your check with his thumb.

“i missed you, sweetheart. went a whole week without talking to my favorite girl.” his hand on your cheek slowly wandered down to your neck.

“make it up to me then, maybank.” you bit at him.

that was the confirmation he needed, and you were on the guest bed almost immediately.

his lips kissed down your neck, down your collarbone and shoulder.

his fingers fumbled with the straps of your top and bra, pulling them down together. his lips connected with your nipple, sending you shooting foward.

his left hand rolled your other nipple between his fingers, looking up at him through his lashes.

that was almost enough right there, screwing your eyes shut from the feeling.

he left you, your eyes popping open as you groaned. “sweetheart, i will treat you so good after this but i’ve waited a week to fuck you.”

you rolled your eyes as his fingertips dipped under your waitband and pulled your shorts down.

his rough hands ran over your thighs, giving you shivers.

“god, been thinking about this for days.” jj groaned. you were about to let out a sarcastic comment, but were cut off by jj pushing into you, bottoming out.

your hand flung to his bicep, mouth wide open. he steadied his pace, rapid and hard. his hand hooked under your leg, pulling it up to give him a better angle.

it was all so much, feeling him everywhere, because he was everywhere.

his free hand grabbed your chin, your eyes opening just in time to watch jj spit into your mouth. he smiled, tapping your cheek as he continued his pace.

“fuck j, so good.” was all you could manage.

he brought his hand up to your hair, caressing your head and pushing back your hair. he always did this. something so sweet and gentle as he fucked you so hard it would hurt in the morning.

with some force and a whole lot of strength, you flipped the both of you over. jj looked surprised at first, before quickly falling back in and grabbing your tits as you rode him.

your hands were on his chest, riding him hard, focusing on pleasuring yourself, not caring about jj.

you hit your high, crashing on top of him as you came, not being able to hold yourself up.

“fuck fuck sweetheart i’m gonna cum.” jj’s eyes closed, a sour face falling onto his features.

“go ‘head baby.” you cooed, his hands tightening around your hips. he came inside you, his moans filling the room.

he twitched underneath you. you held each other for a moment, before jj flipped you over again.

he kissed down your chest, stomach, down to your legs.

“what are you doing?” you questioned, your hand sliding through his hair.

“i told you id make it up to you,” jj snickered, his hands pushing your thighs apart, “so let me make it up to you.”

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cellophaine · 3 days ago

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Chapter X: APPROACH

Masterlist

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan

Warnings: Angst.

Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.

GIF Source: @/spookyrps

2019. New Rochelle.

There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.

Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.

The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.

Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.

For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.

"You look great."

"You, too."

You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.

"It's good to see you."

You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a challenger."

"No, I meant here, right now."

You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.

"I … I want to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.

"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."

The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.

"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."

To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.

"Tashi has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with us."

"Not when she resents me."

For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.

But it should end here.

"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."

You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.

"There's no more us."

At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.

"I have to go."

"Can you at least think about it?"

Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.

"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."

You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.

Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.

At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.

Tomorrow night. 7:30.

As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.

2012. Columbus, Ohio.

Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.

"Hey. It's you."

"It's… you."

You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.

"It's been a while."

"It has been. How are you?"

You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm … great! You?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.

"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."

You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.

"Right. No, I mean, in the city."

"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."

"What happened?"

"I got eliminated."

He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."

Patrick gestured to you.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a book tour."

"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Thank you."

You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.

"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."

He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.

"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?"

You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.

"Yes, we do."

"I don't think so."

"They got married last month."

It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.

"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."

Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.

"You don't mean that."

"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."

The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.

"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."

He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.

"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."

Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.

"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."

You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.

"Where and what time?"

His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.

"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"

"Fine."

That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.

"How's it going for you career-wise?"

Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.

"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."

You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.

"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."

You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.

"Isn't your family rich?"

"They are. Not me."

His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.

"Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."

Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.

The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.

"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."

"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."

You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.

The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.

"So … they got married."

"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."

A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.

"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"

You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.

"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."

"I know it all too well."

"Little fucker."

You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.

"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."

At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.

Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.

"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

You prompted him to continue.

"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."

"I figured as much. It's not new news."

An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.

"Spill, Patrick."

He relented after a moment.

"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."

You looked at him, unsure where he was going.

"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."

You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.

"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."

He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.

"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."

That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.

"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."

"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"

Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.

"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."

You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.

"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."

Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.

"Does Art know?"

"I don't think so."

You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.

"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."

He held his hands up in defence.

"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."

You gave a rueful smile.

"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"

He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.

"No, you're not. You must really love him."

You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.

"I hate that I still feel this way about him."

Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.

"Do you miss him?"

Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.

"I do."

The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.

"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."

He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."

His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.

"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."

"How?"

"I, we, can make Art jealous."

You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.

"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.

"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."

"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.

"I really do."

He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.

You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.

Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.

"Did you think about him?"

You nodded and swallowed.

"Did you think about her?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Revenge is always a good idea."

You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."

Patrick shook his head.

"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."

"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"

"I guess not."

You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.

"Come on, you still have to drive me back."

Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.

"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."

His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."

You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

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readerstories · 3 days ago

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When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 8/?

A little shorter one, but it felt right. Next one is definitely going to be longer. Still on vacation, so I got no idea when the next chapter will be, but it will be longer. Hope y'all are having a good time! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 797

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

This time you get two weeks of what is blessed silence to your mind, but torture on your body before you see either of them again.

Yet again it's an unexpected location, though a slightly less strange one. You are finally back in the gym, after Evelyn giving you the go ahead. Dave had agreed to spar with you after calling her, just being a good friend, but you are working out frustration of not being able to do much training for weeks.

Your body hurts and aches, but you hope getting to move and use it will soften it up somehow.

It can’t hurt too much to at least try.

You need to keep yourself strong and able. You steadfastly ignore the hurt in your shoulders and upper back, the pain so constant now that you have gotten used to it.

You are just done with warming up, slowly and carefully, and manage to get your boxing gloves on and hit Dave’s sparring gloves all of three times before you are interrupted.

“You put on a show like this for anyone pookie?” You freeze mid-punch as you hear a familiar voice. Turning around, just outside the mats you are currently standing on, is Wade. He’s dressed in his full Deadpool suit, weapons and all.

“Dave, let's take a break, give me like ten minutes.” You address your sparring partner as you glare at Wade.

“Uh sure. You going to be okay?” You look over your shoulder, and see him eyeing Wade’s guns.

“Yeah, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” He nods, taking off his sparring pads before walking away and leaving the two of you alone.

“What are you doing here?” You take one glove off, dropping it on the floor in favor of grabbing your water bottle and taking a swig. Wade watches you, tilting his head as he speaks, and you swear you can hear the grin on his face.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and happened to see you through the windows, putting on the most titillating show.” You eye the windows, which are pushed high up in the ceiling of the gym. You take off your other glove and put your water down, hands on your hip as you glare at him.

“Sure, right..... Now, since you were just in the neighborhood, you have no reason to stay.”

“Seeing you, sweaty and panting, canceling your inner ‘Real Steel’? I think that’s a good enough reason.” He steps onto the mats, raising his hands. “I’m no Atom, but I can shadow box well enough.” He raises his fists up in a loose guard, making a come hither motion with one fist. You sweep your leg out, catching one of his, making him fall on his back with a yelp and smack of the mats. A second later one of his guns is no longer in its holster, instead it's pointing at his chest, while your knee on his stomach and your hand around his throat keeps pins him down.

“If there weren’t people around, I would shoot you right now.” You know people keep to themselves here, but you think if you actually shot Wade they would pay attention. His voice is breathier than normal as you press down on his throat as he answers.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. Besides, there are much more fun things you can do with me if we were alone.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how you’re actually feeling better by the second. For a fleeting moment the thought of getting your hands on skin instead of his suit goes through your head, but you shake it away.

“There isn’t.” You let go of his throat to take the magazine out of his gun, dropping it and the gun on his chest as you get up, standing next to his hip. He tilts his head, staying quiet long enough that you are able to talk again.

“I’m going to go take a piss, I expect you to be gone when I get back. If you’re not, I’m going to use your own damn blades to start cutting limbs off, audience be damned.”

“I think the audience would like that, the freaks (affectionate).” He winks somewhere off to his left, towards a weight rack.

“Wade.” You are sure the irritation rolls of you in waves, even without the bond between you both.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, I’ll get out of your lovely hair.” You roll your eyes again, but turn your back on him and walk away.

—--

When you get back from the bathroom, Wade is gone. But, he has carved a heart with ”pookie” inside into one of the mats, making you curse his goddamn name under your breath.

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lvnleah · 2 days ago

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our little footballer.

find the series masterlist here!

May 2028 | 3 years old.

“Mumma! Mummy!” Finley's voice rang through the house, bright and eager, just before the bedroom door swung open. The sound of his small feet pattering on the floor signalled the start of the day. The sun hadn’t even risen fully yet, but Finley was already wide awake.

“Wake up! I play football today!” he shouted, his excitement contagious.

Leah groaned softly as Finley climbed up onto the bed, his small but surprisingly strong hands gripping the duvet as he scrambled over to her side. He didn't hesitate before plopping himself right down onto her chest, causing her to let out a playful “Ooft!” in protest.

“When did you get so big, huh?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep as she blinked her eyes open to look at him. “You’re still a baby!”

Finley giggled, his blonde curls bouncing as he sat proudly on top of her, his eyes shining with excitement. “Me a big boy now, silly Mumma!” he declared, puffing his little chest out. “I play football today!” He wiggled with joy, barely able to contain himself as he repeated the words.

From your side of the bed, you smiled at the scene, watching the two of them. Leah looked at you with a tired but affectionate smile.

Leah gently lifted Finley off her chest and sat him between the two of you. “And what time is it, Mr. Big Boy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Finley frowned, his face scrunching up in concentration. “It’s... football o’clock!”

You and Leah both laughed at that. “Football o’clock, huh?” you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Pretty sure it’s still early, bubs.”

“Early birds score goals, right?” Leah added with a grin. She sat up, rubbing her eyes before planting a quick kiss on Finley’s forehead. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you ready for your big day.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Finley scrambled off the bed, hopping down and running toward his tiny closet where his kit and boots waited. Leah had laid them out the night before, knowing full well he’d be up at the crack of dawn, ready to go.

“Look!” Finley called out, holding up his mini Arsenal kit with pride. “I’m gonna score a goal today! Beffy said I’m the best striker!”

Leah smirked, glancing over at you with that playful gleam in her eye. “Beffy said that, did she?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “You know she’s been trying to claim him as a striker since he was born.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” Leah said, “He’s got defender written all over him.”

Finley, still holding his kit, looked over at you both, confused. “What that?”

Leah walked over, crouching down to his level. “It means you stop the other team from scoring goals. Like how Mumma does.”

“Oh,” Finley said, considering this for a moment. Then his face lit up. “But I want to score goals like Beffy!”

Leah laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, little striker. We’ll see how you do today.”

You got up as well, heading toward the kitchen to make breakfast while Leah helped Finley into his kit. His little boots were placed neatly by the door, and you could hear him excitedly chatting away as Leah knelt down to lace them up.

By the time breakfast was ready, Finley was already fully dressed, bouncing from foot to foot as he waited impatiently.

“Look, Mummy!” he called out, running toward you in his mini kit, his boots thudding against the floor. “I’m ready!”

“You sure are,” you said, smiling as you set his plate down. “Now let’s make sure you eat something before all that running around.”

Finley, never one to sit still for long, hurriedly ate his breakfast, his legs swinging beneath the table. He had gotten so big over the past three years and you sometimes wondered where your tiny baby had gone.

He was now in preschool for two days of the week and was a little chatterbox, you and Leah never heard a minute of silence anymore.

A few weeks ago, Leah had insisted on getting him the best pair of boots, even though you knew he'd outgrow them in a matter of months. She’d picked up a tiny pair, with bright blue stripes running along the sides.

“He looks so grown up,” Leah said, her voice cracking just a little.

You smiled and shook your head. "He’s three, Leah. He’s still a bubba."

After what felt like an eternity to Finley, the time finally came to head out. The drive to the local park was filled with the sound of Finley’s non-stop chatter. He talked about scoring goals, saving shots, and how Beth and Lia were coming to watch him just like he’d asked them to. His excitement was infectious, and even though Leah tried to stay calm, you could tell she was as eager as Finley was to see him play.

When you arrived, Finley hopped out of the car and immediately started bouncing up and down, his energy at an all-time high.

“There’s Beffy!” he squealed, pointing as Beth, Lia, and Viv got out of their car.

Beth knelt down to greet him, pulling him into a hug as he ran into her chest. “There’s my little striker! Ready to score some goals today?”

“Yes!” Finley replied, nodding enthusiastically.

Viv chuckled, ruffling Finley’s hair. “You're going to be so good, Finn!”

Finley seemed to consider this for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m gonna score goals!”

Lia smirked, nudging Beth. “Looks like you’ve already won him over.”

Leah crossed her arms with a teasing glare toward Beth. “We’ll see about that.”

The session began soon after, and as Finley joined the other kids, the rest of you stood on the sidelines, watching proudly. His excitement was still there, but there was a determination in his little face as well—a little frown identical to Leah’s.

When the ball finally came to him, he took a deep breath, and with one swift kick, sent it straight into the net.

The cheers from the sidelines were deafening.

“Striker!” Beth shouted, grinning as Leah just shook her head with a smile. “See, what did I tell you?” Beth grinned, nudging Leah. “Natural-born striker.”

Leah shook her head, but there was no denying the joy in her eyes. “Beginner’s luck.”

But then it happened again. Another shot, another goal. This time, Finley turned to the sidelines, arms raised high as if expecting a stadium’s worth of applause. And that’s exactly what he got. You and the girls clapped and cheered like you were in the stands of the Emirates.

Beth was the first to run over, scooping Finley into her arms again. “Two goals! He’s definitely following in my footsteps.”

Leah laughed, though her eyes never left Finley. “We’ll see. He’s still got time to be a defender!”

Lia smirked, leaning in toward you. “I’m betting on goalkeeper.”

The session eventually came to an end, and Finley ran over, red-faced and grinning, sweat dampening his blonde curls. He plopped down on the grass, looking up at you and Leah with a satisfied sigh.

“Can I play for Arsenal one day,” he asked as you handed him a juice box.

Leah knelt down next to him, “You just might, buddy. But remember, it’s all about having fun.”

As you all made your way back to the car, Finley chattered non-stop about the session. His excitement was infectious. Leah squeezed your hand as you both walked behind the group.

“Our little footballer,” she said quietly, her voice filled with pride.

You smiled, squeezing back. “Yeah, our little footballer.”

And though it was just the first of many football sessions to come, you both knew it was the start of something special.

#lvnleah #awfc #leah williamson #finley williamson #the williamson’s

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