#went back and watched both back to back a couple times

[leafyln4]

"And what the hell were we?"

summary: lando and you have known each other for most of your lives, he was your best friend and you were his. what happens when you both have too many glassesof wine? or where lando and reader live together and they end up drunkly kissing after his monaco win.

warnings: smut, 18+ only!! soft sex, praise kink, best friends to lovers, lando is soft in this one, piv, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, silly), reader is a virgin, virginity loss, fingering, fluff, angst if you squint. maybe bad writing(?).

author's note: i'm writing the streamer!max thing, but this idea came to my mind and i reallyyyy had to write it. hope you guys enjoy, <3. not proofread!!

Living with Lando was... Convenient. You two had known each other since you were little kids. Your parents were long term friends with Lando's, so it was obvious you two would grow up together.

He was a constant in your life, he was always there. From your first day of kindergarten, to your last day of high school. So when he moved to Monaco, you went together. You didn't plan on actually living together, but it was convenient.

He needed someone to take care of the house while he was away for racing, you needed a place to stay. You both trusted each other enough for that, so why not? You two quickly found a place big enough to fit both of you.

You had your room, Lando had his. The apartment had stuff from the both of you, it was balanced in a way only two people who had known each other for long knew how. It was comfortable, cozy. It felt like home.

You and Lando were really close. Really, really close. People always joked about you two, saying how cute you two would look as a couple.

But you knew Lando wasn't exactly your type and you weren't exactly his. Not that it mattered. In your head, nothing could ever happen between you two. You two were only friends! It had always been like that and it always would.

It was one of those weeks Lando was away for a Grand Prix, the first one of the european triple header. Imola, as far as you could remember, and then Monaco before going to Spain. Only one week until he was home again. Great, you really needed his help with some stuff.

You try to keep the house as clean as you can, on a daily basis, but this past week was so busy to you, you weren't able to do house chores. So, considering it was Saturday, nothing much important to watch besides qualifying, you put on some music and start cleaning everything.

You were deep into the song, cleaning the dust of one of the shelves, when you accidentally knock a picture of the two of you over, the delicate frame breaks in a sound that makes your heart almost jump.

You quickly get off the stairs and pick up the frame in your hands. It wasn't really broken, but it wasn't perfect. The frame had seen better days. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you see it's still 90% intact, so you put it back on the shelf.

Your fingers linger on the writings on the frame, a small smile forming on your lips. It was a picture of you and him, both of you were somewhere along the lines of 13 years old. It was one of those family trips you had, the ones you missed from your teenage years.

God, you really missed Lando. When you were younger and he was in his karting days, it was easy for you to go to the races with him. It was still easy when he started on Formula 1, when both of you lived with your parents. But, then, you two moved to Monaco and you found a job.

Time was not something either of you had much. So seeing each other became harder and harder, those little bantering and funny moments you had as friends became rare. You missed Lando, you missed your best friend. But you understood it, you really did. He was following his dreams and you were following yours, it was okay. For an extent.

Shaking your head, you let go of the frame and go back at taking off the dust. Once you finish everything, you throw yourself on the couch and turn the TV on. Better to distract yourself with something silly than let your mind wander.

The weekend passed in a hurry and, soon enough, Lando was already back home. You hear the familiar sound of the door closing and his footsteps echoing through the apartment. You were in your room, finishing some stuff from work, but as soon as you hear it, you rush to the living room.

He was there. White t-shirt, curls falling on his forehead, that smile on his face. He was home. And you were in his arms as soon as he put his bags down. You really missed him. And he missed you, too.

His arms wrap tightly around you, his smile only growing. He missed you so much. It was kind of weird to not have you around most of the time. Even if he didn't want to admit, it felt like a part of him was missing. A part he really cared about.

Of course you two always texted and had those long calls whenever you could, but it wasn't the same thing. You both longed for each other more than you would ever admit. You told yourself it was only because of habit, that this longing wasn't something more.

You two finally let go of each other, his smile turning into a smirk. "So... You did miss me, huh?"

His voice was teasing, full of that familiar mischief Lando seemed to not have left behind in your teenage years. Such a silly boy. You roll your eyes at him, pushing him lightly.

"Who said I missed you? I actually was just cleaning my hands on you. I was eating chips, y'know?"

The lie was obvious, but you would never say the truth. Not when he would get all cocky and arrogant if you did.

"Yeah, yeah. Chips. Totally believable."

Lando knew you better than everyone else, but he decided to let this little lie pass. After all, he was tired after the travel. He still had two days until his duties as a driver, so he wanted to relax as much as he could.

He passes through you, bumping into your body as he walked, that smug smirk on his face. "I'm going to sleep a little bit, I'm too tired for this now."

With a roll of your eyes, you let him go without any more words. But it doesn't take long for you to go to your room, too. You would steal him from everyone else in those two days, it was only fair you gave him a little bit of time to relax.

After all, you really needed him to fix some stuff on the house. And to do stuff with you, of course.

The moment he parks the car in that first place spot, the whole world seem to disappear. Even if there were people screaming, even if there were cameras all around you, you could only see him. Your best friend, the one you trusted the most, winning in Monaco.

He fucking won in Monaco! The pride you were feeling was immeasurable. You wanted to cry, to scream, but you were frozen in llace, eyes teary and mind hazy. You push your way through people, going straight to him.

He sees you approach, his eyes locked on yours. He seemed as happy as ever, in his element. You didn't care of he was sweaty, smelly or anything like that at all.

No, you give him the tightest hug of his life. Ignoring all of the cameras, all of the people watching you both, you feel at ease. His spark was coming back.

You let him wander through the rest of the people, whispering to him that you would see him later and that he should enjoy his win. His heart was beating so fast, he didn't want to pull away. But he does, anyways.

"I promise I will talk to you later."

You nod, a proud smile on your face. You knew he wouldn't forget about you. He was your best friend, after all.

After podium celebrations are over, you two go home, a nice chat flowing between you two. He was sparkling, glowing with happiness. And his happiness made you happy, too.

The ride home doesn't take long, it's Monaco. And, before you know it, you two are sitting on the couch, each with a glass of wine in your hands. This was your third glass, your mind way too fuzzy already.

"Lan, you should really go party if you want to. I don't mind, I swear."

"I don't know what you mean. I'm exactly where I want to be."

It was not like this was the first time you got drunk with him, but something about this was... Different. The tone of his voice, the way his curls fell to his face, how his words carried a little hint of flirtiness on them... It was normal, yet so different.

Maybe it was your fuzzy mind. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But you were seeing Lando with different eyes, your mind going through paths it never went before. You try to shake the thoughts away, but it doesn't work at all.

He notices how distant you seemed for a bit. Lando also had his fair share of wine, he was just as tipsy as you. He never intended to flirt with you, but some things just happen. It's life, we can't control how it works. And you looked so pretty with McLaren's jersey, it should be a crime.

Lando clears his throat, his eyes drifing from your pretty lips to your intense eyes. The ones that, once eye contact is made, it's hard to not look into. It must be the wine, right? That's messing with his head, making him see stuff he shouldn't be seeing.

And, suddenly, he is brought back to your teenage years, to when it was hard to control himself around you. It wanders to how it felt to secretly desire you, the hormones messing with him as much as the alcohol is now.

He shakes his head, focusing on you and the way your breath seemed to pick up. The room felt hot, too hot. It wasn't how it was supposed to be. The couch never felt so small.

"I... You just won in Monaco, you deserve to party." Your voice was low, weak, rough. As if you were holding back. As if you didn't really want to say what was in your heart.

The air around you two was cackling with a tension you two were unfamiliar with. Never once between you two this seemed to happen. Never once you desired each other. Well. At least you.

"You know I don't want to party. Not without you." His voice was charged, his words carrying some secret meaning your fuzzy brain was fighting hard to deny. "I want to be with you."

He puts his glass on the small table in front of the couch, his eyes canning your face for any signs of discomfort or want. He wanted you more than he would care to admit. He wanted you to want him so bad.

Your breath hitches, your hands slightly shaky and that strange buzzing feeling in your lower belly marking its presence within you. His gaze was intense, full of years of repressed feelings. Feelings you never noticed until now.

"Lan..." He approaches you, ever so slowly, his right hand cupping your cheek while his left one rests on one of your thighs. Your heart was beating fast, the heat was hard to ignore.

Your thighs clench unconsciously, his left hand drifting closer to your core. But he doesn't touch you. Not yet. He looks into your eyes, almost begging for your approval. He wanted you to want this as much as he did.

"Can I?"

His voice was measured, a bit rougher than normal, and a nod of your head was all it took for him to glue his lips to yours. You melt into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck and hands fidgeting with his hair.

The kiss was slow, full of emotions you were both too drunk to explain. His lips felt softer than they should, he tasted like the wine you two were drinking. It was intoxicating and so intimate.

His hands go to your waist, pulling you into his lap in a desperate try to get more of you. You whine into his mouth, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. He kisses you like you're the last person he would ever kiss, full of passion.

Once you two pull away, Lando starts planting kisses down your neck, goosebumps trailing down your spine as soft gasps left your lips. His right hand lifts your shirt and you help him take it off with ease.

Looking at you on his lap, your bra being the only thing covering your chest, he thought you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist. With one nod of your head, he takes your bra off, his breath catching on his throat.

"So beautiful, baby... Can't believe I never made any moves on you."

His tongue licks your left nipple, a soft moan leaving your lips. You were so sensitive. Nobody ever touched you this way. Nobody got this close to you before. You couldn't believe Lando, your best friend of years, was the one doing this.

But you didn't mind. Not at all.

"Lan... Please, I have never..." You were ashamed. Your cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink, your chest raising and falling as he looks up at you once again.

Even if you were drunk, you were conscious enough to remember the details about your life. But the look Lando gave you... How fucking gentle he seemed... It was driving you crazy. You needed him. You wanted him.

"I know, baby, I know. I promise I'll be gentle... Do you trust me?" You nod, but that's not enough for you. His right hand squeezes one of your breasts gently. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes... Please, Lan, I want you. Only you. It has always been you."

Your little cry goes straight to his cock. Lando's mouth is immediately back on your breast, sucking the soft flesh and lightly scraping his teeth in your nipples. It felt so good. It was so different from when you tried to pleasure yourself with your hands.

He stands up with you, your legs wrapping around his waist as his firm hands keep holding you. He takes you to his bedroom, gently laying tou down on his queen-sized bed. He kisses you again, gentle, soft. He wanted you to savour the moment, to enjoy it even more than him.

His fingers trail down your body, slipping into your pants and underwear as soon as you nod at his silent question. Lando's breath hitches when he feels how wet you are, his point finger spreading your slickness through your pussy.

He pulls your underwear down along with your pants, taking it off of you and leaving you bate before him. He looks up at you one more time, wanting to see if you were really sure about that. The smile you give him is enough as a yes.

Slowly, torturously, he inserts a finger in your cunt. It makes you gasp. His finger was so much thicker than yours, it was a new sensation. You had never felt this before. He pumps the finger in and out, mesmerized by how tight you were and how your cunt seemed to suck his finger in.

"Look at you... So damn pretty. Want to feel that tight cunt squeezing my cock. You'll take it like a good girl, hm?"

His words were filthy. But they made you blush. You felt seen, desired. Only Lando could make you feel like this, like you wanted more. He puts another finger in, curling his fingers just in the right way. A broken moan leaves your lips, your back arching.

He plants a kiss on your inner thigh before licking a long stripe on your pussy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, it felt so good. He sucks your clit while working his fingers inside of you. It didn't take long for you to come all over him, a strangled moan leaving your lips.

"Such a sweet cunt for such a sweet girl. Fuck, baby... Can I fuck you? Take that pretty pussy?" His voice was low, charged with need. You were so beautiful, so perfect.

He takes his fingers off of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. "Please, Lan... Need you so bad."

He finally undresses, his toned body making your mouth water. His cock springs free and you gasp audibly. He was so big. It would never fit. Lando notices how worried you seem, kissing your cheeks softly.

"It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

Slowly, he starts putting his cock in. Inch by agonizing inch. You whine in a bit of pain, holding his hand tightly. He coos you, kissing the few tears that spilled from your eyes away. Once he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for you to adjust to him.

It was too much. You had never felt so full. Soon, the pain starts to drift away and leave way to the building pleasure. Lando feels you clench around him, a moan leaving your lips, so he starts moving slowly against you.

"So tight, baby. Feels so good." His thrusts were slow, but deep, hitting all of the right spots inside of you. You moan his name, chanting it like you were caught in a spell. He finds your g-spot, your back arching and a loud moan spilling from you.

It felt so, so, so, so good. You were drunk on him and how he felt inside of you. His right hand finds your clit, your own hands resting on his shoulders and scratching his back at the new-found pleasure. You cry out, your high approaching once again.

"Lando, I will--- Oh, shit!"

Your eyes roll back, your back arches even more. Your cunt clenches around his cock, your orgasm triggering his own as he spills his seed deep into you.

"Fuck, such a good girl." He talks you through your orgasm, his thrusts slowing down until they fully stop.

He pulls out, leaving your panting form on the bed to go get a clean towel. He cleans you gently, knowing how sensitive you are, then cleans himself. He lays down besides you, peppering your face with little kisses that make you giggle.

Nothing much is said between you both and you soon fall asleep.

You wake up in Lando's shirt, your body sore and his side of the bed cold. The curtains were slightly pulled aside, some rays of sunlight entering the room and casting a cozy glow inside of it.

You hear footsteps approaching, Lando stopping by the door as he notices how you're already woken up.

"Hey... Sorry for leaving. Making breakfast." He was holding a small tray, a plate with some pancakes, fruits and toast on it alongside a mug of what seemed to be either coffee or hot chocolate.

You sit up in bed and he puts the tray in your lap, sitting beside you on the bed. You murmur a small "thank you", not really knowing what else to say.

Last night changed everything between you and Lando, that's for sure. But, if the way he was looking at you was any sign, it really changed. For the better. <3

[stylesispunk]

So. Joel with a reader who has a bad habit of calling him “dude” or “bro”. She doesn’t even mean to do it, it’s just a big part of her vocabulary for some reason. Maybe she’s been hanging around Ellie a bit too much… maybe it’s a habit she’s always had and just can’t seem to kick, slipping up every now and then.. how would he feel??

Hi baby! I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but it went like this!

"CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT IT BUT THAT!"

gif credits to @/bratmillers

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You have the bad habit of calling Joel dude or bro and he is done with you.

warnings: none really. mutual pinning and perhaps me being meh.

Joel Miller swore he could bear anything. Yes, the thousand times he had almost died but survived. He could handle clickers, raiders and a freezing winter that made his skin burn out.

But as everyone, he had a weakness, and his was that he couldn’t handle being called “bro” one more time.

Because that weakness came with you, and yes, you were his weakest point.

It had started the moment Ellie had come into your lives. But after arriving at Jackson and being here for a couple of months, fitting in the routine of your new quiet life. You became different, you fit here just perfectly, but just as Ellie, your mouth ran faster than your brain. It was like the both of you had become the extinction of each other, a fruit of the same tree.

After all it felt like that. The three of you were a family.

But Joel hated the way you called everyone “bro” and “dude” because you called him the same and that made him felt less important for you.

“Dude, you scared the hell out of me”

“Thanks for the help, bro”

“Dude, you’re a lifesaver”

He fucking hated it. He didn’t say anything, because what was he supposed to do? Call you out in front of everybody? Tell you it made him feel like some awkward kid on the outside of your life, while he wanted to be at the very center of it?

After one particularly rough patrol the both of you stepped inside the house.

You kicked off your boots and your jacket while groaning, “Bro, remind me why we signed up for this again?”

And Joel had stiffened, jaw tight, ears hot.

Ellie, who was sitting on the couch, holding a comic in her hands, just grinned like a damn Cheshire cat.

Joel didn’t say a word just muttered something under his breath and made for the stairs, boots heavy on the steps.

“You know?” she drawled, “you keep calling him bro, people are gonna start thinking you’re not into him,” she teased, biting into an apple.

You flushed. Heart stammering inside your ribcage “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying. Dude, did you see that face? Poor old man looks like he’s gonna combust every time you do it.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s a habit, okay? I don’t even realize I’m saying it. It’s like breathing.” You glanced the stairs Joel had walked on for a bit “Besides, it’s because of you.”

“Yeah, and it’s killing him.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Really?”

Ellie grinned. “Swear to god. Next time you call him dude, watch his face. It’s like someone just stabbed him in the heart and kicked his puppy at the same time.”

You groaned again, dropping your head back against the couch cushion. “Fuck.”

“You might want to do something about it,” Ellie sing-songed. “Unless you wanna keep breaking his poor old man heart.”

“Hey, he’s not that old.” You defended him.

Ellie snorted. “Please. The man grunts more than he talks. That’s how you know.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. Then silence settled between you, the fire crackling softly.

“You think I ruined it?” you asked quietly.

Ellie glanced at you, expression softening a little. “I think that if you go up there right now and maybe try calling him something that’s not bro, you’ll be fine.”

You nodded, anxiety crawling in your chest, determination setting in, but still not ready to face it.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, exasperate “Go get your man, dude!”

You stood, raking a hand through your hair. You flipped her off without looking back and headed for the stairs.

You took the stairs slower than you probably should’ve. Each creaky step felt louder than the last, like the whole damn house was tattling on you.

By the time you reached Joel’s door, you half-considered turning around and blaming it on Ellie. She was the one who started it, after all.

You lifted your hand and knocked softly.

No answer.

“Joel?” you called; voice weirdly tight in your throat.

A beat, then his rough voice came through the wood.

At least, you hadn’t called him dude

“Yeah?”

“Can I… come in?”

Another pause. Then, “Yeah.”

You pushed the door open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the strap of his watch like it had personally offended him. He didn’t look up right away, and when he did, his brown eyes met yours, a little guarded, a little vulnerable and everything hit you right in the chest.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

He made a low sound in response that came out as more of a grunt.

You chewed your bottom lip, feeling your palms go a little clammy.

“Listen… I, uh. I wanted to say sorry.”

That got his attention. He straightened, frowning slightly. “For what?”

“For—” you exhaled, gesturing vaguely. “The whole bro, dude, thing. I know it probably sounds dumb but… Ellie kind of pointed out I do it a lot. To you. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like…” you trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding like an idiot.

Joel set the watch down and finally gave you his full attention, his brow furrowed.

“Like what?”

You swallowed. “Like you’re just some guy to me.”

That’s it. You had confessed it.

But the room went quiet. The kind of quiet that felt heavy and you felt the rush up to your cheeks.

If Ellie had played a joke on you…

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said gruffly, “I’m not mad. Just…I kinda wish you’d call me something else.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you smiled, shyly.

“Yeah.”

You took a cautious step closer. “Like what?”

He gave a small, crooked smile, a little shy, a little rough around the edges. “I dunno. Something different to bro” he said, making a sign with his fingers.”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you. “I can do that.”

Another step closer. You were standing right in front of him now, and Joel tilted his head up to look at you. His gaze was warm and steady in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Okay then,” you said, voice quieter now. “How about… Joel?”

He chuckled “Really? What if I call you kid?” he challenged.

You opened your mouth in offense, hand to your chest “I’m not a kid.”

“I know, you are past thirty-five already.” He said, smiling at you.

You gaped at him. “Excuse me? Past thirty-five? I’m in my prime, old man.”

He laughed outright at that, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable now. “Yeah, you are.” The way he said it, softly, honest, a little rough around the edges, sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You cleared your throat, trying to recover.

“Okay, so… deal. No more bro, no more dude.” You said, trying to recover from your own shame, but your heart was pounding like a drum in your chest.

Joel’s smile softened, the teasing still lingering in the corners of his mouth. But then, without another word, he reached out and caught your wrist, not rough, just steady, fingers curling gently around yours like it was the most natural thing between the two of you. This kind of touch.

You looked down at where he held you, then back up at him, breath hitching.

“Come here,” he murmured.

And before you could overthink it, before you could make another dumb joke or call him dude by accident, Joel tugged you in and kissed you.

It was this perfect, slow, finally kind of kiss, the kind that said everything neither of you had been brave enough to say out loud. His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, steadying you, anchoring you to him, while your fingers instinctively found the fabric of his shirt.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice was low and rough.

“Been wanting to do that for a while. You had been killing this whole time with the dude thing”

A crooked grin tugged at your lips, the flush in your cheeks impossible to hide now.

“Sorry,” you murmured, though you didn’t sound sorry at all.

Joel shook his head, his thumb brushing a slow arc against your waist. “Yeah, you are. But it’s alright.” His voice dropped even lower, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I got something better to call you now anyway.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

He smiled, warm and a little smug. “Mine.”

And you swear you could’ve died happy right now.

[wintfleur]

quinn hughes who goes and buys a tons of books about some of your interests after you’re guys first date. he wants to know more about your passions, more about you and why you care for it so much. He wants you to feel understood and remembered when the topics are brought up again. And he just really wants to impress you…he spends hours reading them. On the couch after practice, laying down before bed or in the kitchen, holding the book with one hand while he holds a spatula in the other.

and then when you come over to his place for the first time he couldn’t help but get flustered and rub the back of his neck, cursing internally when you notice the books on his shelf. trying to play it cool when you teasingly start to tease him , saying its a coincidence but he knows you know he’s lying. But you find it sweet. He watches with a small smile as you complement his collection as you go through them, taking one before you make yourself comfortable on his couch. Patting the spot next you, telling him to come read it to you, and he couldn’t say no to that. So he smiles and sits next to you, trying to act nonchalant as he feels you press your body against him as he reads.

that fancy dinner he planned to make you was long forgotten as the two of you had moved to sit on the living room floor, leaning back against the couch, legs spread out under the coffee table that had an almost empty bottle of wine and a large pizza box with a couple of slices left. Tipsy giggles were shared and soft kisses placed on both of your shoulders as the two of you talked about your thoughts and went through the books. quinn falling even more even love with you as he listened to you talk and talk, your hands absentmindedly playing with his hair.

he always leaves one of the books on his bedside table, right next to your turned off phones, the two of you wanting to be alone and unbothered in your private little world. Your bare bodies intertwined as you rest your head on his chest, listening to the peaceful vibrations of his voice as he reads to you, his deep voice soon lulling you to sleep. When he feels your hand go slack in his hair and the way your breathing softens out, he knew you had fallen asleep, so he carefully reaches to put the book on the bedside table and shutting off the lamp, placing the softest and sweetest kiss to your forehead, just admiring you until the feeling of your heartbeat against him lulls him to sleep.

𝓻oro’s note. i love these little thoughts 💭 i honestly will probably do this more because i get so many ideas but i never get to fully turn them into a fic…please tell me what you think!

ᆼᆽᆼ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 & 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ！

𝓷hl masterlist | 𝓶ain masterlist

˖ ་ 𝓽aglist : @lovings4turn @pixiebratz @43hyughes @fantillisgirl @toasttt11 @cixrosie @littlejackles

©️WINTFLEUR

[into-fiction]

Saw someone theorize about the shot of the person on a horse being Glinda riding to Kiamo Ko and I took that and *went for it* lmao

Act Two spoilers below

///

Glinda still remembers the first time she rode a horse. She was just five years old, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt as her popsicle lifted her up, pink skirt and all, and sat her gently on the prettiest pony in all of Frottica.

In Glinda’s mind, at least.

Growing up in the foothills of the Gillikin mountains turned Glinda into quite the talented horsewoman, often found cantering across the lush fields of her home with her blonde curls flowing behind her, not a care in the world.

Eventually, though, she outgrew such childish notions. She outgrew the joy that came with tangled hair and wind kissed cheeks and a sweaty brow. She learned to like her nails pink and clean, not chipped and dirty. She learned to keep her makeup pristine.

By the time she arrived at Shiz, Glinda had all but forgotten what riding was like, and to be honest, she hadn’t even seen a horse in years. Not until Fiyero arrived.

Feldspar was not a horse. Feldspar was a Horse, and Glinda learned quickly the importance of that distinction. His blue coat and friendly voice belied a powerful Animal, one who didn’t take kindly to being treated like a mindless beast.

No one was allowed to ride Feldspar except Fiyero.

The Emerald City had horses too- beautiful horses of all different colors who pulled carriages down the streets or carried the Gale Force out on patrols. These horses didn’t know a lick of language, and Glinda watched, silent and complicit, as Feldspar’s spirit dipped, day by day, his speech waning the longer he was treated like just another guard horse.

It grated on Fiyero. Just one of the many things he’d rant about late at night, barging into her pink-hued room to throw his hands in the air and stomp around with that glean in his eyes that said he was thinking something rash.

Glinda had gotten good at calming him down. At forcing him to see reason. But even her stomach twisted a little every time she saw Feldspar’s proud neck dip a little lower in defeat.

Kept in the stables, fed on a schedule, treated like nothing more than common, domesticated livestock. He stopped greeting Fiyero with witty quips. He stopped snorting in amusement when rookie guards would fumble or fall. He stopped winking at Glinda in shared exasperation when Fiyero did or said something dumb, the way he used to back at Shiz.

The only thing that didn’t change—despite a couple of young guards’ stupid attempts—was that Feldspar only let Fiyero ride him. No one else could even get close enough to get a saddle on him.

Which is just one reason this next part will be so difficult.

“Please, Feldspar,” Glinda begs softly, her voice thick with emotion, her throat strangled by regret. A clock ticks down in her head, each second precious.

“I-I’ve done nothing to deserve your help, I know that, I do. But you’re the fastest Horse in the Emerald City.” Glinda swallows hard, hands shaking. “And you’re the only one I trust.”

Feldspar won’t even look at her. He’d been nose to the stall corner ever since the news of Fiyero’s death had reached him. His coat dull, his ears hanging limp. There is barely enough room to turn around in these stalls. They aren’t a home.

“Please,” Glinda breathes, clasping both hands over her chest and pressing down like that will help contain the panic that’s filling her lungs and stealing her air. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t leave the city as Glinda the Good, it’ll pull too much attention.”

Attention. Ironic, isn’t it? Glinda had spent her whole life basking in it, craving it, chasing it. A part of her had squealed with joy the first time she’d been given a crown and a fancy dress and asked to present a speech to hundreds.

Now, the mere thought of anyone seeing her has her heart pounding out of her skin. Adrenaline buzzes through her veins, making her shiver as she stands in the drafty stable aisle, draped in a cloak that had almost hurt to put on.

You’re trembling, she thinks, and her next words are heavy with the weight of tears.

“I f-failed him,” she croaks, barely a whisper of noise, but she can see an ear flicker. “I know I did. And, I can assure you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Glinda licks her lips, eyes squeezing shut as she forces herself to remain upright. She does not have time to wallow. She still has someone to save.

“Please, my friend,” she says, and she can see the shift in the Horse at her words, her tone, her sincerity. “I failed him…but I can’t fail her. I- I can’t.

“Help me. Please. Help me save my- my Elphie. Do it- do it for Fiyero.”

Feldspar turns his head, his dark eyes nearly hidden under his thick forelock as he takes in the desperate girl in front of him, her bright dress hidden under a midnight cloak. Glinda attempts a wobbly smile, but she’s been crying all day- and she knows it falls flat.

“He loved her,” she says, and it feels like swallowing glass, the broken shards of a shattered rose scraping her insides raw and shredded. “Let me do this for him. For her. For- for every time I didn’t do something before.”

She steps forward, past the threshold of his stall so her heels sink into the straw. He stays perfectly still as she approaches, laying a hand against his warm, navy side.

“I’m going to make everything right, Feldspar. I promise.” She chokes down a sob as a soft muzzle presses into her, warm gusts of air ghosting over her fingers where they’re tangled in the front of her dress. She leans forward, forehead dropping to forehead.

“I promise you, my friend. I’m going to make everything right.”

Glinda presses a small kiss to the whorl in the center of Feldspar’s forehead. She tries to smile again and finds that this time it sticks, tiny but real.

“And I always keep my promises.”

[yasministration]

love the concussions n interruptions series!! was wondering how did each friend group react to the relationship :3

pansy knew... she knew every single step of the way. she knew when you had a week long crush on harry in third year after watching slytherin play a game against gryffindor for the first time. she knew that despite being there to support your friends, you were staring at harry potter from the game's start to finish. that entire week, you couldn't help yourself from staring a little too long in shared classes, but you eventually shook it off. pansy made fun of you for it the entire time, and when you finally came running to her that harry potter kissed you three years after that, it was the first thing she referred back to. 'i guess that crush never really went away, did it?' she asked, and you felt your face heat up 'pansy, you know that's not what happened. we've gotten close' and she'd roll her eyes a little too hard and say 'i know, i know'

but the rest of the friend group found out by mistake.

when you came back from another date with him, after he kissed you too lovingly - in a way that your lips would remember forever. you were giddy, obviously. the boy you liked had feelings for you too, and he spent every moment around you showing you. he even smiled at you in the hallways, and you returned the smile, neither of your friends noticing anything. it wasn't that you didn't want them to know, it was just so new. so when you returned to the common room after that date, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, pansy couldn't help but ask 'what has he done now?'

'pansy, he's such a good kisser' you'd say, sinking into the couch next to her. unanimously, draco, theo and blaise would all straighten up, heads snapping towards you like protective older brothers. 'who's this?' you went silent, face falling as you thought up an excuse, but pansy was quick to let them know exactly who had kissed you.

the slytherin common room was chaos that night. blaise had leaned back in his spot and muttered 'yeah, i had a feeling something was going on between you', while draco and theo went insane over it. it was a surprise, but who were they to tell you who you could and couldn't date? (unless it was mclaggen). they upped the rivalry with your new boyfriend from then, testing his patience, seeing how much he could take before snapping. he never did, only ever finding your eyes in the room and smiling at the apologetic look on your face. you'd make it up to him with kisses later, so it would all be okay.

harry began catching feelings for you a few months before he finally made his move, and he was conflicted. he knew about the drama his parents had with many slytherins during their time at hogwarts. he was warned about them - not in a 'stay away at all costs' way, but in a 'be careful who you become friends with' way. it certainly didn't help that ron had such a deeply rooted hatred for slytherins, or that he had some sort of rivalry against some of your best friends.

so he went back to his most trusted friend, and waited until everyone else had gone up to the common room to tell neville about everything. it felt good to get things off his chest, to put it out in the open instead of keeping it secret. and neville understood, said he could see you both as a couple. it wasn't difficult to notice the chemistry you had from the friendship you had built the past couple of months. hermione was the next to know - not because he told her but because she was so observant. she noticed the way you and harry smiled at each other across the classroom, or how your sarcastic comment when you were paired together in potions was only half-hearted. she saw the way he waited for you to pack your things up after class, and you placed a hand over his forearm as a silent goodbye before leaving.

but above all that, she watched you in the corner of the library, with matching smiles on your faces as you spoke softly, only pretending to study. she had been looking for a quiet space to study, but found something so much better. hermione couldn't help the smile on her face when harry shuffled closer to you, and your faces were only inches away from each other, and she didn't feel guilty for watching as you cupped his face in your hands, caressing his soft skin before harry pushed his lips against yours, glasses immediately going crooked on his face. you kissed for a long moment, giggling when the kiss broke, and hermione decided to walk away then.

harry caught the movement in the corner of his eye, recognising the curly hair that disappeared behind a bookshelf. he confronted her that night, and she just said in a comforting voice 'if you don't want me to have seen anything, then i didn't'. harry smiled, telling her he was just worried what ron would think.

'what i would think about what?' harry laughed. of course this would happen. but he still turned to look at the ginger boy who sat down next to them, saying 'my girlfriend.'

it was a guessing game from there. ron thought up a list of every girl in the castle he wouldn't approve of harry dating and began naming them. harry was oddly comforted when your name didn't pop up in the list, and even happier when seamus, lavender and dean joined in the little game, until they ran out of names. when he finally told them, they had all made a little noise of surprise. it was silent until lavender said 'oh yeah, i really don't mind y/n, she always gossips with us in the bathroom between lessons and she's pretty funny. also, gorgeous.'

harry was relieved to know that lavender didn't have any dirty stories on you, instead giving him her word of approval. 'yeah,' added ron 'i thought it was going to be goyle or something' and the entire group had laughed.

the next day, harry found you in the courtyard, and you had grinned widely at the sight of him, pansy sitting across from you. you extended an arm towards him, and he immediately brought you in a hug, kissing you softly on the lips as he pulled away. pansy's eyes widened, and your breath hitched in your throat at the bold move. you felt eyes following you from across the courtyard, but harry kept his hands on your waist as he told you that his friends knew. you let out a relieved sigh and brought your boyfriend into another hug, but in that moment, draco, theo and blaise decided to join you.

the three of them immediately through sarcastic comments his way, but harry somehow knew it didn't mean anything bad. if anything, it was only the start of something good.

[petrichoravis]

Deep in a daydream. | s.r.

summery: Spencer has baby fever while watching you take care of a child victim.

word count: 2k

what to expect: spencer reid x cps!reader, implied fem reader otherwise nondescript, established relationship, angst and mention of case details (murder of parents in front of child), fluff so much fluff!!! English is not my first language.

a/n: picture credit to @reidgif !! if that gif didn’t exist this fic wouldn’t either, so thank u for your service. (fic that won in this poll)

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Spencer had the distinct thought that he had fallen in love with you with a slight bias.

He was very aware that, because of his job and lifestyle, having children of his own would be irresponsible to the child and other parent.

But watching as you crouched down to talk to the small girl the team had rescued on their recent case was like a wave crashing down over him and taking him with the current.

Spencer had always wanted kids of his own, but he fought with the thought that it was unfair to have a child in his current life state. Seeing you make her laugh after she went through the most traumatic thing a person could go through muted that fear.

He knew you could handle every situation that involved children with grace, it came with your job, but

All his head was screaming was ‘I want to have a child with you’.

There were days when he woke up in the middle of the night, with you sleeping next to him, and wondered what it would be like to be woken up by your daughter or son because they were having a nightmare or simply wanted to cuddle.

The way you would groggily reach out one arm and let them cuddle close, the way Spencer would wrap his arms around both of you and kiss the back of your child’s head.

It wasn’t something you spoke about lightly, always cautious and considerate of a person that didn’t even exist yet. It made him want to forget every rational thought you had just discussed.

Now, watching you ask the girl for the name of her puppet, watching the smile spread on your face as she told you that she didn’t have a name and you could name her, it was the knife and the balm at the same time.

He leaned against the doorframe of the interrogation room you had fought to make look less intimidating and more like a children’s playroom. After the officers reluctantly gave you the green light to do whatever you wanted, you went out to bring pillows and toys back to the station. With the team’s help, of course.

Now the room was all soft and colorful, the pillows had leaves on them and little Ruby had enough toys for a lifetime of fun. You had even covered the one-way mirror with a big, pink blanket that had unicorns on it after asking her what her favorite animal was.

If you treated a child that wasn’t yours like that, how would you treat one that was? Spencer let his imagination roam freely.

A mistake. Soon, he was deep in a daydream of spilled foods, stroller rides in the park, first days of school, laughter chasing through hallways. His mind created a world around the three of you.

A gasp made his gaze snap back to you and the agent in him flinched to the ready. But his worries were soothed by a louder giggle.

You and little Ruby were dancing. Or, well, something that could be interpreted as something akin to it, anyway. It was more of a wiggle.

“Whoa, where did you learn those moves?” You asked, laughing, spinning her around.

“My mommy and I always dance.” She replied, then stopped short.

Ruby’s parents were killed in front of her just a couple of hours ago and you had been able to bring a smile back onto her face with a lot of hard work. But it was inevitable that something would remind her of what happened and made it all come crashing down on her little shoulders again.

Your face betrayed no pity, just plain understanding and empathy. “You like dancing?”

She nodded weakly, clutching her puppet. Spencer couldn’t watch the way her lower lip quivered. “With mommy. I want my mommy.”

“I know, Rubs, but she’s not gone. She is watching over you and protecting you in her own way, still. As much as your little head is trying to tell you that she’s gone, she will always live on in the memories you have with her. Every time you dance or don’t want to eat your veggies, she is smiling and shaking her head fondly.”

Ruby sniffled, but her tears had stopped flowing. “I want her to come back.”

You crouched down, opening your arms to give her the choice, “I know, lovely.”

Waddling into your arms, she let you hug her while she kept hugging her doll. Spencer didn’t know if he was still allowed to watch this heartfelt moment.

It was after a minute that you pulled away to wipe her tears off her cheeks with gentle thumbs and tucked her black hair behind her ears. “Okay?”

A nod was all you got, but it was everything you needed. You stood up and turned to Spencer, which confirmed what he suspected; you knew he was there the whole time.

As Ruby saw Spencer, she shied away, hiding behind your legs immediately.

He crouched down to be less intimidating. “Hello, Ruby.” He said softly. “I’m Spencer.”

Despite his attempts to make himself smaller, the little girl said nothing to his introduction, her hands stayed glued to your leg.

You smile at Spencer and turned to face Ruby, crouching, too. “He’s one of the good guys, I swear, Rubs.”

Spencer could only just hear her response of a breathy, “yeah?” and almost melted.

Nodding, you reassured her with a hand on her back. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

The whites of her eyes became more and she nodded eagerly, seemingly having forgotten that Spencer stood just a few steps away or that she was ever scared of his presence. And what she was just crying about.

He couldn’t handle the way you adjusted your wording to sound less harsh, the way you were so tuned in to the little girl. It was giving him a really hard time to do the same.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you nodded, whispering the words like a four-year-old would tell the news to her friends.

Ruby gasped again and glanced at Spencer over your shoulder. “Really?” Her shock was obvious in every one of her features.

At your nod, she got even shyer, but also more curious. She stepped forward to inspect Spencer closely, who was still crouching in front of her.

“Hey, Ruby,” Spencer tried again, holding out a hand.

She just looked at the hand and then at him. “Hi, Spencer. I like your sweater.”

Laughing, but trying not to be too loud as not to intimidate her more, he pulled his hand back. “Thank you,” he looked down at his sweater, then at you with a smile, his voice changed just slightly, “Santa gave it to me on Christmas.”

“I like Santa.” She said excitedly, pulling his attention back to her. “He always brings me what I want.”

“Yeah, Santa is awesome, isn’t he?” He wasn’t really equipped to handle a four-year-old girl who had just lost her parents and was really hoping his awkwardness wasn’t something Ruby picked up on. But she was the age where children were highly attuned to every nonverbal social clue and internalized it, so his chances were slim.

You came to his rescue. “Ruby, do you want to play a game with us? Or draw something?”

She didn’t even answer as she excitedly ran towards the table that had crayons, colored pencils and paper on it. “I already know what I wanna draw!”

Standing up, you took a step to stand next to Spencer, leaning your head on his shoulder. His hand went to your back immediately.

“Hi,” you mumbled contentedly.

“Hey,” he said with his hand rubbing your back. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

You had a deep appreciation for the way Spencer was always able to see you so clearly. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You hoped it was enough for him to see that the exhaustion was there, but that it wasn’t pulling you down.

Ruby kept drawing and you kept watching her. It was easy to forget that you weren’t proud, loving parents watching your child draw a picture of your life.

When she was done, Ruby hopped off the chair with the drawing clutched in her tiny hands. “Look! I drew you a beach! And there’s a dolphin and a sea pony playing together.”

“It’s so pretty, Ruby.” You were grinning from ear to ear, just like she was. “Do you think I could put it on my desk? So I can see it every day and think of you?”

“Yeah!”

“Thank you so much.” She scrunched her nose at you as you ruffled her hair, but it was clear to everyone in the room that it was a fond, admiring look. “Would you draw Spence one, too?”

She glanced at Spencer, the shyness back like a push of a button. But she nodded weakly and scrambled back to her desk.

The social workers picked her up and she finished her picture just before they arrived. You followed them out of the room and crouched down to hug her tightly.

“Here,” she whispered in your ear and pulled back to hand you the paper. “I hope he loves it.”

You looked down at the picture and almost started crying. “He will.” You reassured her, trying to rein in your emotions.

The goodbye was a hard one, but it was safe to say that you would visit little Ruby even after she found her new home.

Behind you, Spencer had walked up to you and glanced over your shoulder to look at what Ruby drew for him.

What he saw made him speechless.

Ruby had drawn two stick figures that looked a lot like the two of you. Your hair and eye color, your work attire. Spencer’s messy brown hair was drawn with looped pencil strokes and she even tried to draw the complicated knitting pattern of his sweater.

Between the two of you was a heart that read your name plus Spence.

“Oh,” Spencer didn’t even realize that he had made the noise before you turned.

With a smile on your face you said, clearly joking, “How come that I get the beach and you get this on your desk?”

He laughed gently, taking the drawing from you, looking at it for a moment before looking at you. You were watching Ruby get escorted out.

“She’s a strong kid.” You said with a deep sigh. Spencer’s eyes were glued to the side of your face. “I just hope she finds the right family.”

He had to stop himself from blurting out the thought he was toying with. Maybe we could take care of her until she has another family to call her own?

Of course, you couldn’t. There were too many papers to fill out and, while both of you had the credentials that would inspire trust, Spencer doubted the authorities would make exceptions for you.

It would be unfair to Ruby, too. To give her a temporary family, just to have it ripped away from her again. Once was enough.

But you looked so good, conjuring the big smile onto her face, so in your element that Spencer forgot all the logical things.

He registered that you were still talking to him and snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to cook something at my place and watch a movie.” You repeated, laughing softly. “Where’s your genius brain wandering to now? Any statistics I should know about?”

Spencer didn’t know how to tell you that the only statistics in his head revolved around the benefits of creating a family. (With him. Now.) “N-nothing, I’m just tired. Movie sounds good.”

You squinted at him. “Right…” you dragged out. “Let’s go, then.”

A quiet breath left Spencer’s mouth as you took his hand into yours and dropped the topic. For now, eventually, he hoped to bring it up again as a fond memory when you had a little one of your own.

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thank you for reading! support by reblogging or commenting encourages your favorite writers to write more, feedback is appreciated!!

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Paige Bueckers Ch9

Part 1 ! Since it's split in two you guys are gonna get a cliffhanger. <3

I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

TW: internalized homophobia,explicit language. Smut. f!ngering, dom/sub (power play tones / dynamics) def at play, dom!paige, praise k!nk, some choking, consensually as always, religious trauma, f!ckboy paige.

NSFW: 18+, f/f all the other previous warnings apply etc.

Caitlin lay on her bed, one leg bent, phone resting on her stomach, heart working some uneven rhythm behind her ribs. Her ceiling still had the glow-in-the-dark stars from middle school. Her bulletin board was crammed with medals she didn’t remember earning. Everything around her looked like it belonged to someone else.

She stared up and waited. Paige picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” Paige said, voice low and rough with sleep.

“You falling' asleep?”

“Nah,” Paige said, lazy now. “Just lying here thinking about your legs.”

That made Caitlin snort, though it left a heat under her skin. “You’re disgusting.”

Caitlin didn’t respond. She just curled the phone a little closer to her cheek. “You know tomorrow’s Notre Dame.”

Paige hummed. “Packed?”

“Mostly. Mom keeps putting crosses in my suitcase.”

That earned a short laugh. “Jesus goes where you go.”

“Apparently.”

Caitlin dragged her palm across her stomach, fingertips grazing the hem of her shirt. The house was quiet. Her parents were asleep down the hall. Her brother was out. She could hear the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the way it always clicked before midnight.

“You excited?” Paige asked, quieter now.

“I guess.” Caitlin stared at the ceiling. “Everyone there already treats me like I’m committed. It’s weird.”

“But you’re not,” Paige said.

“No,” Caitlin answered. “Not yet.”

Silence stretched again. Not tense. Just full. Caitlin imagined walking snow-covered paths, her breath fogging in front of her. The gleam of stained glass at sundown. The way the team had looked at her like she already belonged to them. It should’ve felt like the finish line. It didn’t.

“What are they making you do?” Paige’s voice was gentler now.

“Couple meetings. Team dinner. Some seminar thing. Christian leadership for women in sport.”  Caitlin didn’t even try to hide the weight in her voice. Paige didn’t fill the silence. She waited.

Caitlin exhaled. “Say it.”

“I’m not,” Paige murmured. “You know what you feel.”

“Do I?”

“I think so.”

Caitlin closed her eyes. Her chest hurt in that slow, quiet way it sometimes did when she tried too hard to make herself fit. “I used to want this,” she said. “I used to think it meant something if a place like that wanted me.”

“I know,” Paige said softly. “I just… And I know what that place means to your mom. And what it might mean for you. I get why you’re going.”

“But?”

“I don’t think it’s where you’d play your best,” Paige said. “That’s all.”

The words hit soft, but they stayed. Caitlin felt them settle under her skin, quiet and sharp, like a bruise that would take its time surfacing. Paige went on, gentler now. “But I also know I can’t be the one who says that.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. She turned her head into the pillow. “Because you’re going to UConn.”

“Because I’m going to Uconn,” Paige parroted. No apology in it. Just a fact. The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick with history.

Caitlin’s voice came quiet. “You think I hate you for it?”

“I think,” Paige said after a long beat, “sometimes it hurts. That I’m going there. That you’re not.”

Caitlin’s chest rose and fell, sharp and uneven. She thought of every year she’d spent trying to catch Paige, chase her, beat her. Of waking up early to watch old UConn games on mute. Of every scout that used Paige as the measuring stick. Of every compliment she ever got that ended with not quite.

They had both been groomed for greatness. But only one of them got the crown.

Back then, Caitlin used to clip Paige’s name out of newspapers. She’d pin it to her bulletin board. Told herself it was fuel. That if she could beat her, she’d be undeniable.

She never beat her.

“You know I don’t hate you, P.” Caitlin said, but her voice cracked. “I just.” She paused, swallowing. “It’s hard, sometimes, watching you.”  She wasn’t crying, but her eyes stung.

“I used to dream of that gym,” she said. “Of Geno yelling at me. Of national titles and packed arenas and billboards. I wanted it all. The machine. The myth. I wanted to be the girl they built it around.”

Paige didn’t interrupt.

“And I never even got to fight for it,” Caitlin said, bitter around the edges now. “It was already gone. I was too loud. Too emotional. Too many crazy shots. I didn’t fit. I never fit it.”

Paige was quiet for a long time. Then, softly: “You scare people.”

Caitlin let out a breath, sharp and stunned. “What?”

“You’re not manageable,” Paige said. “You’re too good and you don’t care what they want. You make your own gravity.”

The words caught Caitlin off guard, she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a criticism, not exactly, but she continued anyway. “I don’t know what I want,” she said. “Not really. I just, I want something that’s mine. Not handed down. Not the next logical step. Just something I get to choose.” 

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to feel free.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Paige’s voice came back, rougher now. Like she’d been sitting with the weight of everything Caitlin had just said. “You’re going to visit Iowa right after?”

“Yeah,” Caitlin said. “Back-to-back. These are the last two.”

She didn’t say it, but Paige heard it. The final cut. The narrowing of a whole life into a binary: legacy or freedom.

Paige exhaled. “Okay,” she said. “Then hear me out.”

Caitlin blinked. “What?”

“I’ll drive down,” Paige said. “Book a room. Text you the exit number and the time. You don’t have to think. Just show up. I’ll handle everything.”

Paige’s voice wasn’t light anymore. It was low. Certain. The kind that didn’t ask.

“No one’ll see you,” Paige added. “No teammates. No family. No pressure. Just a bed. A locked door. And me. One day.”

Caitlin’s whole body felt hot under the covers. “That’s insane.”

“It’s not,” Paige said. “You’ve been performing for everyone else your whole life. One night off isn’t a crime.”

“You want me to lie to my parents?”

“No,” Paige said. “I want you to lie to everyone who thinks they own you.”

Caitlin closed her eyes. She imagined the room: dim, off the interstate, maybe a vending machine humming outside. Paige leaning against the doorframe in boxers and nothing else. 

“What would we even do?” Caitlin asked, her voice thinner than before. Half a dare.

“Oh, I have ideas,” Paige said, tone lighter, but not flippant. Then quieter, steadier: “But mostly? I’d let you breathe. Let you be whoever the hell you need to be. No mask. No hiding. Just you and me.”

Caitlin stilled. That one cut too close to flinch from. “I’m not trying to fuck with your future,” Paige added. “I just want one day, one night, before you pick it.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t indecision. It was heavy. It was Caitlin seeing it all: the path that had always been laid out, and the one cracking open now at her feet.

“You’d come all that way?”

“I’d drive through the night,” Paige said. Her voice dropped low, thick with something harder. “You tell me yes, and I’ll be waiting.”

Caitlin closed her eyes.

She didn’t think of campus tours or scholarship clauses or smiling for the coach’s wife.

She thought of Paige. Shirtless. Leaning against a chipped motel door frame. Smirking like a sin. Asking her to come inside. 

She thought of her own hands shaking as she turned the knob.

“Okay,” Caitlin said, voice thin and sure. “I’ll meet you.”

Paige exhaled. It sounded like relief. Like maybe she’d needed this too. “Pack light. I’ll see you soon.”

==

The car hummed steady beneath her, the highway stretching out in long gray ribbons as cornfields blurred past both windows. Caitlin had one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped tight around an iced coffee she didn’t really want. Her mouth tasted like nerves. Her chest felt too tight for her bra.

It was barely 9am and the sky already looked washed out, that flat Midwestern gray like the whole day was stuck in purgatory.

Her playlist had long since given up trying to match her mood. At some point she let the music fade and just drove in silence, watching the mile markers pass like they were ticking something down.

Her phone buzzed in the cupholder.

A beat later, the car’s Bluetooth chirped: “Message from Paige Bueckers: When they talk about sacrifice today, just picture me on my knees.”

Caitlin slammed the brake.

Not because of the message. 

Because a goose, huge, flapping, and casually suicidal, had just waddled into the road like it owned the highway.

She swerved. Coffee splashed out of the center console. Her phone skidded onto the passenger floor mat. Her heart launched into her throat.

The goose stared back at her through the windshield. Unbothered. Holy. Like God himself had sent it just to judge her.

Caitlin sat there, hands gripping the wheel, blood boiling with adrenaline and something filthier.

The car, ever helpful, continued: “I came with your name in my mouth last night.”

“Jesus Christ,” Caitlin hissed.

Her heart pounded. Her hands were sticky. Paige’s text still glowed on the screen, smug and sinful. Caitlin wiped her palm across her leggings and muttered, “I hate you,” even though she didn’t.

She didn’t hate her at all.

In fact, if she let herself think about it too long, she might’ve admitted she sort of, kind of, maybe, loved her. 

Not in a sweet way. Not in any way she could name out loud. It buzzed under her skin like static, sharp and impossible to sit still with. So instead, she gripped the wheel tighter and pretended she could outrun it.

Her mouth was dry. Her skin flushed under her jacket. Her stomach coiled with something reckless and hot.

She didn’t know what to do with it, so she tried not to feel anything at all.

And she still had two hours to pretend she could be holy.

==

By the time she pulled onto campus, her pulse had evened out, but the taste in her mouth hadn’t changed. Still coffee and want. Still Paige’s voice echoing through the car like some godless gospel.

She parked where she was told, smiled when she had to, and shook hands with someone who wore too much cologne and introduced himself as a “culture liaison.” She nodded through the welcome packet, the brochure, the box of merch wrapped in blue and gold tissue. Someone handed her a schedule for the day. Her name was printed at the top in block letters.

CAITLIN CLARK – OFFICIAL VISIT

It could’ve been a name tag on a casket.

She followed the handlers through snow-lined walkways, past looming stone buildings and the glint of that gold dome she used to dream about. Her breath curled white in the air. Her lungs felt too tight for anything but shallow pulls.

At one point, a girl from the team jogged up beside her and said, “So excited you’re here, we’ve heard everything,” and Caitlin had to pretend that didn’t make her skin itch.

The team dinner was uneventful. Polite. Sterile. Coaches leaned in close and asked about her shot mechanics. Alumni mentioned NIL with rehearsed smiles and hedge fund energy. A priest gave a blessing that made her throat tighten, even though she didn’t touch the food.

The seminar was held in a long wood-paneled room with a crucifix bolted above the projection screen. The lights dimmed. Girls filed in, maybe twenty of them, all wearing matching quarter-zips and clean ponytails. Caitlin sat near the back and folded her hands in her lap.

A woman with high cheekbones and the kind of presence that could part water stepped to the front of the room. She wore a tailored blazer and heels that didn’t make noise. When she spoke, her voice filled the space like scripture.

“Ladies,” she said. “We live in a world that constantly asks women to choose between power and purpose. Between athletic excellence and moral clarity. But as Christian leaders, we know the truth: strength and submission are not opposites. They are holy together.”

Caitlin blinked.

“Submission is not weakness,” the speaker went on. “It is a choice. A sacred one. To give of yourself. To serve something higher. That is what separates girls who play the game from women who lead it.”

Something behind Caitlin’s ribs twisted.

Across the room, girls nodded like they’d already rehearsed it. Like the right answer had been built into their bones. She sat perfectly still, back straight, jaw tight.

“I think of Esther,” the woman said, eyes glowing. “Who stepped forward not for glory, but because she was chosen. For such a time as this.”

Chosen. Called. Sacrificed.

Her palms itched. Her skin flushed hot and then cold. Her body wasn’t a temple, it was a pressure cooker. Every word layered atop the last until it didn’t feel like inspiration anymore, it felt like a collar. A corset. A cage she’d been fitted for before she could even say yes.

She reached for the pen in her folder just to have something to hold.

“And when people ask you how you lead,” the woman said, smiling now, “you can look them in the eye and say: I lead like Christ. I give everything. I hold nothing back.”

===

By the time the seminar ended, Caitlin felt like she’d been wrung out. Her back ached from sitting up so straight. Her chest felt too tight for how little she’d said. When the lights came up, she blinked hard and filed out with the rest of the group, gripping the branded folder like it might anchor her.

Outside, dusk had already settled. The air stung her lungs. Snow clung to the edges of the sidewalks like the cold had teeth.

She wasn’t sure who she was supposed to follow until a girl in a navy hoodie waved her over.

"Caitlin? I’m Mara. I’m your host. We’re heading to a thing off-campus. Low-key. You cool with that?"

Caitlin nodded. Her voice didn’t work right away.

"It’s not like… formal," Mara said as they walked. "Just some people, music, maybe a little beer. Everyone wants to meet you."

"Sure," Caitlin said. "Cool."

Mara was easy to talk to. She played the two, joked about team group chats, talked shit about the dining hall food. In the car, she put on an R&B playlist and handed Caitlin a can of sparkling water from a bag in the backseat. It was the first time all day Caitlin didn’t feel like she was being interviewed.

The party was in a beige house a few blocks off campus. Dim lighting, warm air, cheap candles half-melted on the mantle. A mix of players, students, and maybe a few grad assistants already milled around when they arrived. Someone handed Caitlin a Solo cup and asked for a selfie within the first five minutes.

She played along. Smiled. Sipped something vaguely fruity.

In the corner of the living room, a girl named Devon was debating game strategy with a guy in a Notre Dame jacket. Someone else, Kiki, danced barefoot on the rug with her eyes closed. It felt like any other team hang.

Caitlin relaxed half an inch. She could do this.

Later, she found herself in the kitchen with a group of girls from the team. Mara stood beside her, leaning against the fridge.

"You should’ve seen Coach when she heard you were coming," one of them said. "It was like God himself had answered her prayers."

Caitlin laughed, but it didn’t land. The girl went on, "She was like, ‘finally, a real leader who doesn’t just chase Instagram followers.’"

Mara elbowed her. "Shut up."

"What? I’m just saying. You know how it is now. Every recruit’s either a brand or gay. Sometimes both."

Caitlin froze. No one else did. The girl just took another sip of her drink and kept talking. Mara’s smile went tight, but she didn’t say anything.

"I mean, have you seen some of the shit girls post now? It’s like, congrats, you can score and scissor."

Caitlin’s stomach turned. The cup in her hand suddenly felt too heavy. Her breath came shorter. The kitchen was too warm, and every surface felt like it was pushing her out. A few girls laughed. Someone passed her a White Claw. The music shifted to early 2000s pop. People danced badly, half on purpose. 

Caitlin smiled. Just barely. The kind you could blink and miss. She took the White Claw, nodded like she was still listening, like her body hadn’t gone cold all at once.

She sipped. Didn’t taste it.

The conversation veered off, something about a team trip to Daytona, someone’s ex, some inside joke that made Mara snort. Caitlin nodded again, made a noise in her throat that could pass for a laugh. No one noticed the way she folded her arms. No one saw the heat creeping up her neck.

She stayed thirty more minutes. Enough to look normal. Enough to not make it a thing.

Then she told Mara she had a call to take and stepped out to the porch.

The cold hit her hard. Honest. She breathed it in like medicine. Like penance.

By the time she got back to the dorm, her bones ached with the kind of fatigue that wasn’t physical. The room was too quiet. Her head was too loud.

She rolled onto her side, pulled her phone from under the pillow, and typed: can’t wait to see you tomorrow

Her finger hovered. Then she added: don’t ask me about today. just want you. want out.

not gonna ask. just get here.

A pause. Then another.

bed’ll be ready. just want you to be safe.

She bit her lip. Let her fingers hover again, nervous now in a different way.

how do you want me?

The bubble appeared right away.

you’ll see. keep your hands to yourself until i say.

can you do that?

Her heart slammed.

yes. 

good girl. 

Caitlin locked her phone and held it to her chest.

She didn’t cry. But her eyes stung. Not from sadness. From relief. From want. From knowing, finally, there was one place she didn’t have to perform. Didn’t have to choose. 

Not between power and softness. Not between hunger and grace. Not between the version of herself her mother wanted, and the one she could barely name in the mirror.

With Paige, there was no act to keep up. No posture to hold. She didn’t have to prove she was good. She just had to listen.

Just arrive. Just obey. Just breathe.

==

Caitlin didn’t sleep much. Her body ran hot under the covers, every nerve buzzing with something that wasn’t dread for once. It wasn’t peace either, not quite. But it felt closer than she’d been in a long time.

By the time morning came, the sky was still low and gray, but her mind was clear. She showered. Dressed in layers. Tucked her hair into a loose braid. Packed like she was just heading to the next visit, which, technically, she was.

Mara was still asleep when Caitlin slipped out of the dorm. She left the key on the desk. Didn’t write a note.

In the parking lot, she took a breath, then called her mom.

“Hey, honey,” her mom answered, chipper. “Everything go okay last night?”

Caitlin nodded before realizing she was on the phone. “Yeah,” she said. “It was fine. Long day. Lots of talks.”

“You on the road already?”

“Not yet,” Caitlin said. She stared at the icy windshield, watching her breath fog the air. “A couple girls are sticking around an extra day to rest before the drive. They invited me to stay. I figured… it’d be nice. I’ll head to Iowa tomorrow.”

Her mom paused. “You’re sure it’s not too much of a detour?”

“It’s not,” Caitlin said. “It actually makes the drive easier.”

“Well,” her mom said. “Don’t let them rope you into any trouble. No parties. No boys.”

“No boys,” Caitlin repeated, voice steady.

“Well, okay,” her mom said slowly. “Text when you get to campus. And keep your phone on.”

“Will do.”

She hung up. Didn’t say goodbye.

In the car, she cranked the heat. Let it wash over her hands and face until she could feel them again. Her phone buzzed once in the cupholder, Paige.

The text preview glowed at her from the dash.

Room’s ready.

Caitlin smiled, just barely, and pulled onto the road.

==

Caitlin parked behind the motel and cut the engine. The lot was half-empty, it was only 11am, but the parking lot was washed in a low flicker from the floodlight overhead. A neon vacancy sign buzzed above the office, throwing red across the pavement. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked twice, then fell silent. A pickup idled in the corner like it had nowhere else to be.

She stayed in the car for a moment, hands still on the wheel, chest too tight to name. It wasn’t nerves. Not quite. It was sharper than that. Like her body knew exactly what was waiting behind that cracked door and couldn’t decide whether to run toward it or kneel for it.

The room number Paige had texted glowed faintly from the second floor. Caitlin grabbed her bag, stepped out onto salted pavement, and climbed the stairs one at a time. The door opened with a soft creak when she pushed it.

Warm light spilled out. One lamp glowed by the bed. Paige sat at the edge, sweatshirt half-off, legs parted slightly, bare foot tucked under one knee. She looked up when Caitlin entered but didn’t speak right away.

She didn’t have to.

Something in her face, open, unflinching, already reading Caitlin like a language she knew by heart, unraveled Caitlin’s spine.

She shut the door behind her. Locked it without thinking.

Paige stood, slow and easy. She wore a ribbed white tank and navy mesh shorts, her hair damp like she’d just gotten out of the shower and hadn’t decided what to do next. One sock was half-pulled off, like she’d forgotten it halfway through.

Caitlin didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. Her throat was tight in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. Paige crossed the room and cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing under her eyes like she already knew Caitlin had been holding too much.

“Hi,” Paige said, voice low. “You’re really here.”

Caitlin nodded. Her jaw worked. “Hi.”

The hug that followed wasn’t a tease or a lead-in. It was real. Full-bodied. Quiet. Caitlin folded into it like the only thing left in her was instinct. Her forehead pressed to Paige’s collarbone. Her arms looped tight around her waist. Paige pulled her close like she’d been waiting hours, not for the body, but for the person.

For Caitlin.

One hand settled behind her neck. The other slid up her spine, slow and firm. She didn’t pet. She didn’t soothe. She held her. Anchored her. Like she knew Caitlin needed a place to fall, and she was it.

Caitlin hadn’t realized how loud the world had been until Paige silenced it. She didn’t flinch from the closeness. Didn’t make herself smaller. She just breathed in the sharp, clean scent of Paige’s skin and let her grip tighten.

She wanted to stay like that. Buried in her chest.

“I missed you,” Caitlin whispered.

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “Me too.”

Neither of them said what that meant. They didn’t need to. The shape of it lived in their bodies already.

When Paige finally pulled back, she didn’t break the contact. Just enough space to look at her again. To scan her face like it was something she’d memorized and was checking for new damage.

“Did you eat today?” she asked softly.

Caitlin shrugged, a little guilty. “Not really.”

Paige didn’t scold. She just tucked the information away like she always did, like Caitlin’s well-being was her job, not her burden. She pressed her thumb once behind Caitlin’s ear, then kissed her forehead.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a question. And Caitlin didn’t need it to be.

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. Her legs moved before her brain caught up, like her body had already decided. The mattress dipped under her weight. She sat on the edge, knees close, hands folded, not fidgeting, just braced.

Paige took the water bottle from the nightstand and cracked the cap. The sound was quiet, but it split something open. She handed it over without speaking.

“Drink.”

Caitlin did. Two gulps, then a third. The cold settled in her chest. Sharp and grounding. Her breath evened a little.

Paige sat beside her, close but not touching. She leaned back on her palms, spine loose, posture open. Her bare foot brushed Caitlin’s ankle: gentle, casual, an I’m here.

Neither of them spoke. Paige didn’t fill the silence. She let it stretch. Let Caitlin sit inside it without pressure, like she trusted the quiet to do the work.

Finally, she asked, voice low and even, “Was it bad?”

Caitlin stared at the floor. Her toes curled against the edge of the rug. “Parts.”

Paige nodded. No surprise in her expression. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know.” Caitlin turned her head. “But I will.”

“Later,” Paige said. “Or not. Doesn’t change anything.”

The words landed soft. Not dismissive. Solid. Caitlin felt them settle in her chest like a weight being lifted. She took another sip, swallowed. “Thanks.”

Paige didn’t say you’re welcome. She just bumped her knee gently into Caitlin’s. A quiet tether.

They stayed like that until the water was gone and Caitlin’s shoulders had dropped two inches. Then Paige leaned in, kissed her temple, and stood.

When she looked down again, something in her had shifted. Her blue eyes were clearer. Her breath was slower. Her focus was sharp.

“Take off your coat.”

Caitlin moved instantly. Sleeves slipped down her arms. She folded the coat and passed it over. Paige hung it on the knob, simple, careful, like she was putting away something important.

Then she stepped back. Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

“Clothes now. Leave your bra on. Leave the underwear.” The command hit low. Not cruel. Not coaxing. Just exact. 

Caitlin moved in silence. Shirt. Jeans. Her socks came last, peeled off slowly, her fingers numb from the cold. When she straightened, she didn’t cross her arms or cover up. She stood tall. Still. Present.

There was no seduction in it. No act. Just Caitlin. Spine long. Chest open. Waiting for instructions.

Paige didn’t touch her. Not yet. She stood still, watching.

Her gaze wasn’t hungry. It was like she’d imagined Caitlin exactly like this. Quiet. Ready. Stripped of everything she didn’t need.

She stepped forward, dragged her knuckles along Caitlin’s ribs, slow and light. Skin flushed warm beneath the touch. “You look like you didn’t sleep,” Paige murmured.

“I didn’t,” Caitlin whispered.

Paige nodded once. “Means you’ll listen.”

But she didn’t move. Not yet. She watched Caitlin, watched the way her chest rose and fell, the way her knees stayed soft, not locked. Her body was still. Her eyes were open.

Paige’s voice shifted, careful now. “You want this right now, Cait?”

Caitlin blinked. Nodded.

But Paige didn’t accept just that.

“Because I do. I want you. But I know your head gets loud. So if you need quiet, I’m happy to give it. If you want to lie down and watch TV, I’ll find the channel. We don’t have to do anything. We can go shoot hoops. Or just lie here.”

Her arms stayed loose at her sides. She didn’t touch. “But if you want this, really want this, I need you to say it.”

Caitlin didn’t pause. “I want this,” she said, steady.

Paige let it sit. “Say it again.”

Caitlin’s voice came clearer, firmer. “I want you.”

Something clicked in Paige’s posture. Not softened… Locked in. She stepped forward. Her eyes burned steadily. Her tone didn’t shift.

“Get on the bed.”

Caitlin moved slowly, but not shy. She climbed onto the bed like before, knees sinking into the uneven mattress, hands pressing into the thin comforter. 

All fours. 

Just how Paige liked it.

Paige didn’t follow right away. She just watched, eyes steady, unreadable, not roaming. Just making sure Caitlin was fully there. No splinter. No hesitation.

Then she stepped up onto the mattress and moved behind her. One knee, then the other, framing Caitlin from behind.

Without ceremony, she peeled her tank over her head and let it drop off the side of the bed. Her bare chest met Caitlin’s back a second later. Warm. Solid. Skin to skin. No space left between them.

Her breath hit Caitlin’s neck, and Caitlin froze in place, eyes shut. 

She could feel everything… 

Paige’s thighs bracketing hers, the press of her abs, the firm weight of her chest against her spine. Paige wrapped her arms around her ribcage. Not squeezing. Just there. Containing her.

The sound that left Caitlin’s throat wasn’t a word. Just a release.

Paige held her tighter. Not harder. Just closer.

“You okay?” she asked softly, mouth brushing just behind her ear.

“Green.” Caitlin whispered. “Yes, I want…” she exhaled. “I want whatever you want for me.”

Paige kissed her shoulder once, then sat back. Her hands moved with certainty, no hesitation, no heat wasted. “Lie down.”

Caitlin obeyed. Down to her elbows, then fully flat. Paige followed, one hand guiding her hips, the other sliding over her thigh to keep her grounded. 

“Arms up.” Her wrists met above the pillow like they belonged there.

“Look at me.” She did.

Paige didn’t blink. “You wanna be good?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t kiss her mouth. She kissed her jaw. Then just under it. Then lower, down her neck, over her collarbone, never touching skin Paige hadn’t told her to expose. Just lace. Just cotton.

Caitlin trembled, her spine arching slightly with every almost-touch. She didn’t reach. She didn’t move.

Paige crouched lower, one hand on Caitlin’s thigh, the other flat to her sternum, steady and firm. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said, voice even. “Not in your body. Not in your head. Not today.”

Paige’s mouth touched the skin just above her knee. Then midway up her thigh. Then higher. “Say something,” Paige murmured.

Caitlin’s voice was barely there. “What?”

“Anything. Wanna know where your mind’s at.”

Caitlin swallowed hard. “You’re all I think about. All the time. It’s fucked P. I’m so fucked.”

Paige’s mouth curved. Not into a smile, into precision. “Have you come since that voice memo ?”

Caitlin’s breath caught. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You haven’t told me I could.”

“Yeah,” Paige said. “That’s right.” She pressed Caitlin’s legs wider with both hands and looked slow, clinical, devastating. Caitlin gasped, hands tightening around the headboard, her whole body flushed hot, exposed.

“You always this wet when you lie to your mom?” Caitlin whimpered. 

Paige didn’t change her tone.  “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Caitlin’s eyes fluttered. Her voice came out wrecked. “Because I was thinking about your mouth.”

“Where?”

Caitlin’s jaw clenched. Her hands gripped the headboard harder. “Everywhere.”

Paige exhaled through her nose, slow and dark. “That’s not the real reason.”

Then Caitlin broke. “Because you told me I couldn’t come until I saw you,” she whispered, each word pulled from somewhere deep. “And I listened. And now I can’t stop wanting it.”

“Better.”

Paige stood then. Silent. Composed. Walked to the corner of the room and crouched beside her duffel.

Caitlin watched her. Breath high, mouth open, thighs still spread where Paige had left them. She hadn’t moved. 

From inside, Paige pulled something black and curved. A rabbit vibrator. Sleek. Solid. Minimal. The second nub was angled like it was designed to ruin.

She turned and held it in her palm. Not teasing. Not showing off. Just letting Caitlin see what was coming.

“You ever used one?” Caitlin shook her head, eyes pinned to it, then flicking up to Paige.

Paige stepped forward. Her gaze didn’t soften. It sharpened. “You wanna let me, Cait?”

Caitlin nodded. 

Paige’s voice went cold. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” Caitlin whispered. “I want you to. Whatever you want Paige.”

Paige came closer. Close enough to feel the heat coming off her. Her tone dropped. “You wanna let me hold you open? Fill you up. Keep you right there, shaking and soaked and fucking ruined until I say?”

Caitlin whimpered, but Paige didn’t blink. “That's good with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Paige said. “Because I want to see what you look like when your whole body forgets how to lie.”

She crouched again. Set the toy on the bed beside Caitlin’s hip. Her other hand skimmed her side, then stopped just beneath her ribs, pressing steady, possessive.

“And you’re not gonna come, not until I believe you’re begging for it.” She climbed onto the bed again. She didn’t straddle. Didn’t press. Just knelt beside Caitlin’s waist and picked the toy up again.

“This goes inside you,” she said, voice a shade rougher now. “Not deep. Just enough to keep pressure where I want it.”

She brushed her thumb over the second nub. “This part stays on your clit. I control how it moves. How fast. How long.” A shiver ripped through Caitlin’s body, sharp and involuntary, like Paige had touched a nerve under her skin.

Paige noticed. Of course she did. She leaned closer. “You’re feeling that already?”

Caitlin nodded, breath shaking.

“Yeah,” Paige said, quieter now. “You’re not ready. That’s the fun part.”

She kept going. “I’ve used this a dozen times this month on myself. Maybe more. Sometimes slow. Sometimes brutal. Always with you in my head.” 

Her palm slid back to Caitlin’s thigh. “But you’re gonna take it better than I ever fucking could. You’re gonna earn it.”

The air in the room went thick. Caitlin’s whole chest felt like it was being compressed from the inside. Her arms were limp above her head. Her knees stayed wide, but she still felt like she was being peeled open from the inside out.

Paige hadn’t even touched her yet. Not really.

“Color.”

Caitlin swallowed. Her voice was wrecked. “Green.”

Paige’s face didn’t change much. But something in her eyes flared, dark, possessive. Like approval. Like hunger.

She clicked the toy on low. Let the sound fill the room. Then looked at her girl.

“Spread your legs.”

Caitlin’s thighs fell open. Her heels pushed into the bed for leverage. Cool air hit the wet cotton and something low in her hips clenched, instinctive and helpless.

Paige moved between her knees without a word. Her body was loose, unbothered. She looked like she had all the time in the world. Her chest was still bare, skin kissed pink across the collarbone, hair pulled into a low knot that was already coming loose. Her eyes didn’t scan. They locked.

Then it touched her.

No warning. No mercy. Just the soft hum of the rabbit pressed directly to the center of Caitlin’s cotton underwear.

The sound that tore out of Caitlin’s throat didn’t even feel like her. Her back arched. Her hips jolted. Her eyes went wide with shock. The contact was too much and not enough. Perfectly placed. Cruel by design.

Paige pressed her free hand flat to Caitlin’s stomach. “Breathe,” she said. “Let me in.”

The vibration wasn’t high but it drilled through the fabric like it belonged inside her. Caitlin’s thighs trembled. Her hands clenched above her head. Her head tipped back. Her mouth stayed open but nothing came out. 

Paige kept watching. Not just her face. But her body. The way the tremble started in her quads. The way her ribs pulled uneven. The way her hips lifted again and again like they could find the friction they wanted if they just behaved better.

She moved the toy higher, dragged it slowly along the soaked seam. The heat coming off her was obscene. Paige could feel it even through the cotton. She knew Caitlin was drenched. She knew she could get her so close, so fast.

Caitlin whimpered. It was small. Pitiful, really.

Paige clicked the toy up one notch.

Caitlin jolted. Her head rolled. Her chest heaved. Her thighs shook harder.

“Stay still,” Paige said. The words were soft but they didn’t move. “You can take it.”

Another moan. Short and broken.

Paige didn’t back off. She leaned closer. Her voice dropped. “You feelin’ that?” Caitlin nodded. Her breath was coming fast. Her whole body shook.

Paige wouldn’t accept the nod. “Say it. Loud.”

Caitlin swallowed hard. “I feel it. I feel everything.”

Paige lifted the toy. Just once. One second. Caitlin’s hips lifted like they could chase it.

Paige pushed her back down, teasing, relentlessly. 

Then it came back. Harder. Right where it belonged. Caitlin cried out. No attempt to hide it. No performance left.

Paige clicked the toy again. A little faster now.

“Lemme hear it,” she said, while Caitlin gasped. Her legs shook. Her mouth parted and stayed that way. Paige pressed her palm flat against her belly. “Easy. You’re not going anywhere.”

Her voice dropped again. Right into Caitlin’s ear as she nibbled on the tip of it, she whispered. “You're such a good girl.”

Caitlin moaned. It cracked in her throat. Her legs tried to close. Paige kissed her shoulder once. “Keep them open. You can take it. Can’t you?”

The cotton was soaked. The mattress underneath her was damp. Her breath came in shallow bursts. She was flushed everywhere. Her chest. Her stomach. Her thighs. She was wide open and burning and Paige hadn’t even taken the underwear off yet.

“Tell me what it feels like.”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin breathed. “Too much. So good. I can't think.”

“Mmm good, you’re not supposed to,” Paige said. Her voice dropped to a whisper against her neck. “You’re supposed to feel.”

“P,” Caitlin gasped. “I’m close.”

Paige didn’t didn’t speak right away. Just watched Caitlin writhe. 

Watched the way her body stuttered under the toy’s pulse. Watched how her hips kept chasing it, how her thighs twitched when she tried to be still, how her jaw had gone slack from trying to stay quiet.

Beautiful. Obliging. Desperate.

Caitlin gripped the pillow harder. Her arms ached from staying still, but she didn’t move. Not when the toy buzzed harder through the cotton, not when Paige’s free hand slid up her thigh. She felt stretched tight, like a wire strung from her throat to her stomach, one wrong touch and she’d snap.

It undid Paige.

She pressed the toy harder. Held it steady even when Caitlin whimpered, even when her legs tried to close. Watched her squirm, watched her tremble, watched her fall apart just from this. Paige felt something crawl up her spine, thick and hot, something sharp-edged and terrified and so full of love she couldn’t name it.

“You're close Caitlinnnn?” Paige asked, drawing the last half of her name out. Not sweet. Just knowing. Not cruel, but half laughing.

Caitlin nodded frantically. “Paige… Please. I’m, please - ” 

Paige didn’t respond. Not with words. She studied her like a problem she already knew how to solve. Caitlin’s body stuttered. Her hips lifted again. Her knuckles were white in the pillowcase.

Then the toy disappeared.

Paige took it away like it had never been there.

Caitlin’s whole body bucked.

“No,” she cried out. “Please. Please, I was right there.”

Paige caught her by the throat. Intentionally.

Not squeezing. Just enough to hold her.

“You don’t get to come until I say.”

Caitlin whimpered. Her eyes burned. Her body was shaking all over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Paige leaned down fast and kissed her. Open. Full. Messy. She caught the whimper on Caitlin’s tongue and swallowed it whole.

“Shh,” she murmured. “I know. I know, baby girl.” She kissed her again, slower this time. Her hands moved with purpose. Thighs. Hips. Stomach. Every inch she touched was claimed. Not coaxed. Taken.

She wanted more. Needed all of it. The softest parts. The sharpest. The pieces Caitlin kept hidden from the world. Paige knew where to find them all.

Paige stood. Took a single step back. Pulled her boxers down with that same clean precision she always carried. Nothing rushed. Nothing wasted. Then she climbed back onto the bed like she couldn’t breathe if she didn’t feel Caitlin under her again.

Her hands found the waistband of Caitlin’s underwear. “These. Off.”

Caitlin lifted her hips without hesitation.

Paige peeled the soaked lace down and off. Then unhooked her bra, kissing her shoulder while she did it. Not for heat. For contact. For proof. When the last piece fell, she tossed it aside and lowered herself down.

Full body. Full weight.

Skin to skin. Breasts against breasts. Hips flush. Thighs tangled. Paige slipped her arms under Caitlin’s back and held her like she was the only thing keeping them both on the bed.

She didn’t grind. She didn’t tease. She stayed. Her mouth found Caitlin’s chest. Then her ribs. Then the curve of her thigh. Her hands roamed freely, steady, present, wanting everything at once.

Not because she could.

But because Caitlin gave it all to her.

“I needed to feel you,” Paige said. “Needed you to feel me back.”

Caitlin gasped, helpless. Paige was solid on top of her. Her skin was on fire. “You like this?” Paige asked, voice rough against her cheek.

Caitlin nodded against her shoulder. “I do,” she breathed. “I do. Please don’t stop touching me. Please, P.”

Paige rocked her hips, slow and firm, dragging her cunt across Caitlin’s thigh. Once. Then again. Slower. Meaner. Their chests caught against each other, nipples brushing, friction sharp and unbearable.

They both shuddered.

“I need,” Caitlin started, words tripping over her tongue. “I need to come. Please…”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “I know, baby. You’re perfect for me. Let me make it worth it.”

Caitlin tilted her head back, exposed her neck. Gave everything. “Please fuck me, Paige.”

A groan tore from Paige’s throat. “Mmm, maybe…” she said. “You asked so fucking nicely.”

Then she touched her like she was never gonna stop teasing. Her palms dragged rough and reverent over Caitlin’s ribs, her waist, her hips. She cupped her tits, thumb brushing a nipple, then slid back down, slow and greedy.

Her thigh slid between Caitlin’s. She rocked once. 

Her thigh forced its way between Caitlin’s legs. Pressed up. Stayed there.

Caitlin moaned, loud and shameless. Her hips rolled without thinking, grinding down against Paige’s thigh, already slick and desperate.

“That’s it,” Paige breathed. “Fuck yourself on me. You’ll get it. You’ll fucking get it.”

Caitlin whimpered, fingers clawing Paige’s back.

“Shhh,” Paige said. “I’m gonna give you everything. Just trust me. Trust me, Cait.”

Her thigh stayed there, unyielding, perfect. The contact sent Caitlin spiraling again, almost enough. Almost.

Caitlin’s hands shook where they clung to Paige’s back. Her nails scraped skin. Her breath came fast. She was soaked and open and shaking again. But now she was quiet. Waiting. Trusting.

Paige kissed her hard. Her hand slipped down.

No hesitation.

She cupped Caitlin between the legs, her palm catching the full heat of her. The slick. The throb. She moaned into Caitlin’s mouth at the feel of it.

Then she pushed two fingers all the way in.

Caitlin arched up. Her arms clung to Paige. Her breath fractured.

Paige curled. Slow. Deep. She fucked her with care, but with weight. Not punishing. Present. Like every inch she gave was meant to be felt.

Caitlin’s mouth dropped open but no sound came. Just broken gasps. Just silent gratitude.

Then Paige pulled her fingers free, wet and shining. She didn’t speak. Just lifted them to Caitlin’s lips and held them there.

“Open.” 

Caitlin obeyed instantly. No question. No thought. Her mouth parted like it had been waiting, like this was the only thing her body knew how to do when Paige touched her.

Paige’s voice dropped, smooth and lethal. “Eyes on me.”

Caitlin looked up. Straight through her. No fear. Just submission so pure it burned. Trust poured from her pupils. Hunger lit every line of her face.

Caitlin wrapped her lips around her fingers and sucked.

Not soft. Not tentative. Her tongue moved with purpose, dragging slowly from knuckle to tip, pulling the slick from Paige’s skin like she needed it inside her. She moaned, helpless, a sound buried in her throat but vibrating against Paige’s hand.

Paige inhaled like it hurt to hold still. Her thighs tensed. Her whole body pulled tight.

And still she watched. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just watched Caitlin take what she was given and make it sacred. Not for show. Not to please. But because she wanted it. Wanted Paige.

“Good fucking girl,” Paige said, rough now. She didn’t blink. Couldn’t. Her fingers stayed right there, letting Caitlin lick every trace of her own wreckage like it was worship. Her own body throbbed from the sight of it.

Caitlin looked up again, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Her mouth opened wider. Her breath came hot around Paige’s hand. The contact, the eye contact, the raw need, it lit Paige up from the inside out.

It made Caitlin’s pulse pound in her throat. She could feel it in her wrists, her core, everywhere Paige had touched. She was spiraling, not losing control, giving it away. Wanting to be undone by the only person who could put her back together.

She moaned again, a broken sound of agreement, of offering. Of belonging.

“I could keep you like this forever,” Paige said. “Wet. Obedient. Wrapped around whatever I give you.”

Caitlin whimpered around her fingers, hips twitching under Paige’s body. Her thighs spread wider without meaning to. It felt automatic. Like her body knew what Paige wanted before she did. And she wanted to give it. All of it.

Paige didn’t move her hand. Just watched. Just let it burn.

“You want to come so bad it hurts,” she said. “I can feel it, baby. I can taste it on your mouth.”

Caitlin nodded again, desperate now. Her hips bucked once, hunting for friction. Her eyes glistened. The ache was unbearable. But so good. So sharp. Like craving something forbidden. Like teetering on the edge of permission and ruin.

Paige slid her fingers free with a wet drag. She leaned in and shoved them back inside Caitlin’s soaked pussy.

“You wanna be fucked that bad?” Paige murmured, voice low and filthy. “Dripping all over my hand, fucking begging for it.”

“Yes,” Caitlin gasped. “Please. I need it so fucking bad.”

Paige kissed her, open-mouthed and hungry. Then pulled out again, fingers dragging up her cheek, her throat, her parted lips.

“Open wider,” she said.

Caitlin did. Instantly. Eyes wide. Jaw slack. Her mouth stretched open like it belonged to Paige. Like her whole body did.

Her jaw ached, but she didn’t care. She needed to be praised. Needed Paige’s voice, Paige’s fingers, Paige’s control.

Paige slid her fingers back into her mouth, slow at first. Then deeper. Past her tongue. Down her throat. Until her knuckles pressed against Caitlin’s lips.

Caitlin sucked around them hard, tongue stroking, breath shaking. Her thighs trembled. Her pussy clenched empty.

Then Paige pushed deeper.

Caitlin gagged.

“Fuck,” Paige muttered. “Look at you. Mouth full of your own slick. Eyes soaked. Pussy twitching like it’s starving.”

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t careless. It was intentional. Paige’s other hand came up, gripped her jaw. Not to hurt. To hold. To test her.

Paige rocked her fingers once, shallow but forceful, still buried in her mouth. “That’s it,” she said. “Take it. Take all of it. Fucked out and drooling just from my hand.”

Caitlin’s eyes watered. 

Then choked again. Her chest fluttered. She could feel herself slipping from want into too much. Her brain caught up. Her body stalled.

Her hands scrambled, one lifting blindly toward Paige’s wrist.

Paige pulled back instantly.

Caitlin gasped, chest heaving, spit slicking her chin. “Yellow,” she whispered. Voice frayed. “Just… need a sec. I’m sorry.”

Paige didn’t blink. Didn’t even flinch. “Don’t ever apologize to me for that.”

She kissed her forehead. Then her mouth. Slower this time. Grounded. Gentle.

“You’re perfect,” Paige said, voice steady like steel. “You gave me everything. And you told me when to stop. That’s what good girls do.”

Caitlin nodded quickly, chest hitching. Tears mixed with sweat, salt on her lips. Her jaw throbbed, her throat burned, but that wasn’t the ache that mattered. The one that pulsed between her legs, that stayed sharp. Heavy. Deep. She needed it still. Needed to show Paige she could go further. Needed to give herself back.

Her voice broke like a vow. “I want to keep going.”

Then Paige smiled. Not sweet. Not soft. Something closer to awe.

Her eyes darkened. Her breath caught. Her whole body went still. Like Caitlin had just handed her the whole fucking world.

“Good girl,” she said, low and rough and reverent. “Open again then.”

Her lips parted, cheeks still damp, lashes still wet. Paige watched her, took in the flushed chest, the trembling thighs, the mouth ready to be filled again, even after it broke her.

This time, Paige didn’t ease her fingers in.

She shoved them.

Not reckless. Just fast and deep. All the way in. Right back to the place that made Caitlin gag.

Caitlin took it.

Everything in her tensed. But she held. She let it happen. Wanted it to happen. 

Her throat fluttered. Her moan caught halfway up. She didn’t flinch. She held Paige’s eyes, desperate to behave. Her jaw slackened, her lips glossy and stretched around the knuckle.

Paige’s voice dropped to something dark. Something mean.

“Look at you.”

Caitlin whimpered. Couldn’t speak.

“Eyes watering. Legs shaking. Spit all over your mouth.”

She leaned in, still fucking Caitlin’s throat slow, shallow now, just enough to make her feel it. “You want me to fuck the mess right out of you, don’t you?”

Caitlin moaned around her fingers. It hurt a little. But it felt real, like letting Paige have her. All of her.

“Use you until you can’t think. Can’t speak. Just that wet little pussy begging through your eyes.”

Caitlin’s throat flexed. She drooled on Paige’s hand.

And still, she didn’t break eye contact. She wanted Paige to see her like this. Ruined. Obedient. Wanting.

Paige could’ve come from that alone.

She pulled her fingers out, finally. Wet with spit and slick, shining between them.

“You like this?” Paige’s voice dropped to something dangerous. “You like tasting yourself off my hand?” Caitlin moaned out a yes while Paige’s free hand slipped under Caitlin’s jaw, holding it in place.

Caitlin whimpered, desperate again. Her thighs rubbed together, slick and tense. She felt raw. Exposed. Grateful. Every nerve ending straining toward Paige’s voice.

“My perfect girl.” She kissed her neck. Then her collarbone. Then lower, down the center of her chest. “You ready to let go now?”

Caitlin breathed heavy now. “I’m yours. Please. I want to come for you.”

Paige moved down her body. No show. No build-up. Just devotion. She pressed a kiss above Caitlin’s belly button. Then another just beneath. Her hands slid gently beneath Caitlin’s knees, lifting them apart like they were made to open for her.

She settled between them, full presence, face close, hands spread wide across Caitlin’s hips.

“Breathe, baby,” Paige said, soft now. “Let me take care of you.”

And then she lowered her mouth.

She didn’t tease. Didn’t flick or play. She licked one long, sure line through Caitlin’s folds, tasting her. Then she did it again, then again, until Caitlin was shaking.

It was almost too much too fast. And somehow not fast enough. Her body jolted with each stroke, like Paige was rewriting her from the inside out.

Paige moaned into her. Pressed her mouth in fully, her nose tucked, her tongue slow and deliberate. She wasn’t chasing a reaction. She was offering one.

“You’re so fucking sweet.” she murmured against her. “You know what you taste like now huh? So you know why I’m addicted to this sweet cunt?” 

Caitlin arched. Her hands flew to Paige’s hair, not pulling, just holding. She needed to anchor herself to something. Anything. The pressure was unbearable, exquisite, everywhere at once.

Her breath turned ragged, her thighs tightening around Paige’s shoulders. “Don’t stop,” Caitlin gasped. “Please, please don’t stop.”

Paige didn’t. She kept her mouth locked to Caitlin’s pussy. She licked and sucked and groaned like she needed this too, like she didn’t care if it broke her.

Caitlin was shaking. Her heels pressed into the bed, hips rising again and again. She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t slow it down. The pressure was back, hot, thick, blinding. Her whole body curled toward it. 

It built in her spine, her chest, behind her eyes. Like being filled with light that burned.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “P… Paige, I can’t.”

Paige pulled back, just enough to speak. Her mouth was wet. Her voice came low.

“Close?”

Caitlin nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, I need to, I…”

“Hold it, baby girl. You hold it for me.”

Caitlin cried out. Her hands clawed the sheets. Her thighs twitched, desperate, trying to obey. She wanted to be good. She had to be good.

“I didn’t say you could come.”

Paige pulled back, mouth wet, jaw tight. She sat up on her knees between Caitlin’s trembling thighs, chest heaving. For a beat she didn’t move, just watched. The flushed skin. The slick between her legs. The twitch of Caitlin’s hips still chasing friction like her body didn’t know how to stop.

Caitlin blinked up at her, wrecked. Her whole body burned. Her throat felt tight. Her cunt throbbed with every heartbeat. And still, she didn’t cry out. She waited. Shaking. Silent. Ready.

Then Paige reached for the edge of the bed. Found the vibrator exactly where she left it. She turned it on. The sound alone made Caitlin moan, breath shattering.

Paige didn’t speak. Didn’t warn. She shifted low again, one hand slipping beneath Caitlin’s thigh to hold her open, the other guiding the toy down like it belonged there.

Then she pressed it straight to her clit. Hard. Direct. No mercy.

Caitlin screamed.

Her back snapped off the mattress, thighs shaking violently. The vibration hit her like electricity. Every nerve split open. Her body jerked without rhythm, hands clawing the sheets.

Paige pushed her fingers back in.

Deep. Unforgiving. Her palm sealed tight to Caitlin’s heat as her fingers curled up, slow but brutal. She fucked her through the chaos, and the toy never moved, still pulsing full strength against her clit.

Caitlin sobbed out a noise. Her arms flailed. Her thighs trembled.

“Paige, I can’t - I can’t - ” Caitlin moaned like it physically hurt to hold back.

“You want to come that bad?” Paige asked. Her voice didn’t rise. It cut. “You think you earned it?”

Caitlin nodded frantically, but Paige didn’t budge. “Say it.”

Caitlin’s eyes flew open, face contorted with need. Her lips moved before her voice could catch up. “Please,” she gasped. “Please let me come, I swear, I'll do anything, I need it, I need you…”

She choked on the last word, head thrashing. Then, barely a whisper, but everything.

“Please let me come, pretty girl.”

Everything in her snapped taut. The name hit like a hand to the chest, intimate, piercing.

Her eyes widened, breath caught. Then she surged forward, kissed Caitlin’s mouth. Deep. Consuming. Like she couldn’t bear the space between them.

Her fingers never stopped. They kept pressing inside her, slow and perfect, while the toy pulsed against Caitlin’s clit, merciless and exact.

“Look at me.”

Caitlin did. Eyes glassy. Mouth open. Chest heaving like she couldn’t keep oxygen in her lungs.

Paige kissed her once more. Soft. Sharp. Final.

“You can come now.” she whispered.

And Caitlin came undone.

Her body exploded around Paige’s hand, spine arched off the bed. Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream. Her fingers clawed Paige’s arms, nails biting in. Her legs locked around her waist like she couldn’t bear the distance. She came hard. Shaking. Crying. Gasping.

The toy pressed harder. Paige didn’t let go. Didn’t back off. Held her through it while Caitlin thrashed beneath her.

Another wave hit.

Caitlin sobbed, breath breaking apart. Her whole body stuttered with aftershocks, hips jolting with every pulse of the vibrator still tight to her clit.

Only when she whimpered, broken and overfull, did Paige finally click it off. Her fingers slipped out slowly. Gentle. Careful now.

Caitlin collapsed back into the mattress.

Paige kissed her temple. Her shoulder. Her mouth.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “You’re safe. You’re mine. You did so fucking good.”

“Yours.” Caitlin’s breath came in stutters. Her body twitched with aftershocks she couldn’t control. Her hands stayed curled in Paige’s arms, too weak to hold on but too lost to let go.

Paige moved slowly now. She tossed the toy to the side and slid her hands beneath Caitlin’s back, pulling her up and into her chest like she weighed nothing. Like holding her was instinct.

Their bodies pressed together. Skin to skin. Slick and flushed and warm.

Paige kissed her hair. Her cheek. Her jaw. She didn’t rush. Just touched. Just stayed. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”

Caitlin whimpered softly into her shoulder. Still breathless. 

“Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Paige said again, quieter now. She cradled Caitlin’s head. Ran a hand down her spine. “Took everything. Gave me everything.” Caitlin didn’t speak. Her face pressed close to Paige’s neck. Her nose tucked under her jaw. Just breathing. Just being.

Paige didn’t ask for anything more. She wrapped her arms tight around Caitlin’s waist and rocked them slowly. Back and forth. No rhythm. No goal. Just motion. Just safety.

“You’re safe with me,” she whispered into her hair. “Always. You hear me?”

Caitlin nodded, small and slow. “I’m right here,” Paige murmured. “Not going anywhere.”

Then she kissed her forehead. Her eyelids. The tip of her nose. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Paige said. 

Caitlin blinked, slowly. Her limbs were heavy, but the haze had lifted. She could feel her heartbeat start to slow. Could feel Paige’s arms around her, steady and real.

“I gotta pee,” she mumbled, voice scratchy.

Paige laughed under her breath. Kissed the top of her head again. “Go, baby. I’ll be right here.”

Caitlin peeled herself away, legs wobbly but determined. She padded to the bathroom on unsteady feet, glancing over her shoulder once to catch Paige watching her go. Her expression was unreadable. Half-smile. All reverence.

When Caitlin came back, she looked lighter. Still pink across the chest, hair a mess, cheeks flushed. But her eyes were clear again.

She climbed into bed without hesitation and crawled right into Paige’s lap.

“That was insane,” she said. Her voice still rasped. “Like… I think I believe in God again.”

Paige laughed, low and rough. “Yeah?”

“Or I passed out. Could’ve been either.”

Paige kissed her forehead. “More likely the second one.”

Caitlin snorted, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh, my thighs still don’t work.”

Paige kissed her again anyway, cheek, jaw, shoulder, then rolled onto her back, tugging Caitlin with her. They lay tangled like that for a while. Caitlin’s head tucked under Paige’s chin. Paige’s fingers tracing lazy lines down her spine. 

Eventually, Paige reached over and grabbed the remote.

“What are you doing?” Caitlin asked, voice already heavier with contentment.

“Putting something on.”

Caitlin blinked up at her. “You’re the only person I know who would use basketball as a come-down.”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever needed to come down from,” Paige said, deadpan. She clicked the game on. Soft crowd noise filled the room.

Caitlin watched the screen for a minute. NBA. Kings versus the Knicks. She recognized the players. She let it run in the background. Paige’s arm rested around her shoulders. Her body felt heavy in the best way, used, safe, warm.

She exhaled slowly. Then said, “This was the week I was supposed to figure everything out, you know?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just rubbed circles into Caitlin’s biceps. “About Iowa. About Notre Dame. About who I’m supposed to be. What kind of life I’m supposed to pick.”

Paige’s voice was soft when it came. “You don’t have to have an answer yet.”

“I know.” Caitlin stared at the screen, unfocused. “But I think I’m getting closer.”

Paige turned toward her a little more. Tucked a piece of hair behind Caitlin’s ear. “What are you thinking?”

“That maybe I don’t want to disappear into the version everyone expects.”

Paige didn’t flinch. “Good.”

Caitlin nodded slowly. “And maybe…I want to stay in a world where I get to feel like this.”

Paige pulled her closer. “You should stay.”

The game played on. The light shifted. Caitlin let herself sink into the weight of the moment, messy, unfigured, hers.

Eventually, Paige broke the quiet.

“You still okay?” Her voice was low, like she didn’t want to startle the moment.

Caitlin nodded, nestled against her. “Yeah. You?”

Paige paused. Her hand was still moving, gentle against Caitlin’s shoulder. “Just thinking about earlier,” she said. “When you called yellow.”

Caitlin tensed for half a second. Paige noticed, and her hand stilled.

“I just want you to know,” she said, carefully, “that was the best thing you could’ve done. And I’m proud of you.”

Caitlin blinked. “For saying it?”

“For knowing you could,” Paige said. “For trusting me to stop.” She looked up at the ceiling. “That matters more than anything else.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened. She reached for Paige’s hand beneath the covers. “I do trust you,” she said softly.

Paige held on. “Good. Because I’m still figuring out how to hold this, all of this, the right way.”

Caitlin didn’t answer with words. Just leaned in, forehead to jaw.

Paige held onto her, silent for a long beat. Then she sighed. “Sometimes I worry I take too much.”

Caitlin shifted in her arms. “What do you mean?”

“I get in my head after,” Paige said. “When I’m like that. In it. With you. I want so much. And I - I know I can be intense.”

Caitlin pulled back just enough to look at her. “Do you think I don’t want that too?”

“I think it scares me how much you let me have,” Paige said. Her voice stayed quiet. Honest. “And how much I need it.”

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Just searched her face. “Can I ask you something?” Paige nodded.

“That part…” Caitlin hesitated, not shy, just thoughtful. “The choking. The fingers. Is it a kink for you, or... is it about power?”

Paige looked down. Her jaw twitched once, like she wanted to brush it off, make a joke, keep control. But she didn’t. She stayed quiet. Stayed still. Then said, softly, “Both.”

“It’s a kink, yeah. But not because I want to take something from you. You know I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right?”

“I know.” Caitlin affirmed, but didn’t rush to fill the space.

“It’s… I don’t know.” Her fingers fidgeted where they rested on the blanket, tracing lines. “It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I know what I’m doing. Like I can give someone exactly what they need and not fuck it up.”

Caitlin leaned in, just slightly. Her eyes didn’t soften. They sharpened. “What do you mean, not fuck it up?”

Paige gave a small laugh. It wasn’t funny. “I’ve always been good at reading people. At taking control. On the court, in bed. That’s where I’m safe. Where no one asks me to explain anything. They just… let me handle it.”

She paused. Swallowed. “So when someone gives me that? Their body, their trust? I pour everything into it. I want to hold it right. I want them to feel something no one else ever made them feel. I want them to remember it. Because if they remember it… maybe they’ll stay.”

Caitlin’s stomach twisted. Not with fear. With clarity. “You think people only stay if you give them that?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She reached out instead, ran her fingers down Caitlin’s wrist, slow. Careful. “I think if I stop performing, they leave.”

Caitlin stared at her. “What if I’m not going anywhere?”

Paige looked up, fast. Her face flashed something raw. “I’m serious,” Caitlin said. “You don’t have to give me perfect. You don’t have to give me control. I want the rest too.”

Paige blinked. Her throat worked. Her voice dropped, rough. “What if the rest of me isn’t that easy to hold?”

Caitlin touched her face, thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Then let me try.”

A beat of silence stretched. Paige closed her eyes. Then leaned forward, forehead to Caitlin’s, breath shared.

“You scare the shit out of me,” she said.

Caitlin smiled, tiny and real. “Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Paige laughed under her breath, then kissed her once. Slow. Gentle. Honest.

And for the first time all day, she didn’t lead. She just held on.

The room had gone quiet, save for the hum of the heater and the faint buzz of a flickering bulb outside. Daylight bled through the cheap motel curtains, too bright for morning.

Caitlin turned her head and squinted at the bedside clock.

2:07 p.m.

“Holy shit,” she muttered.

Paige stirred beside her. “What?”

“We’ve been fucking for three hours.”

Paige grinned, eyes still closed. “You’re welcome.”

“No wonder I can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s just pride leaving the body.”

Caitlin laughed once, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh. My whole system’s in trauma recovery.”

“We should eat something.”

Caitlin groaned. “No we shouldn’t.”

“Yes we should,” Paige said. “You almost passed out earlier. I basically owe you fuel.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Caitlin peeked out from under the blanket. Her cheek was flushed, eyes heavy-lidded. “What are we even eating?”

“There’s a pizza place across the street,” Paige said, already grabbing her phone. “Didn’t look cursed.”

“I’m not really…”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Caitlin blinked. Paige’s voice wasn’t sharp, just calm. Measured. “I’m not mad,” Paige added, softer now. “But I need you to eat. A slice. Half a slice. Something.”

Caitlin looked away, the sheets rustling slightly with her breath. “I know it’s hard,” Paige said. “You don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

“Sometimes it feels easier to skip it,” Caitlin admitted, voice low. “Especially when I’m this wrung out.”

“Which is why I’m ordering the food,” Paige said, already tapping her screen. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lie there and let me spoil you like a brat.”

Caitlin laughed, faint but real. “That’s the dream, huh?”

“Yup… My dream,” Paige said. “You, in my lap, taking bites like a pampered little princess.”

Caitlin laughed, and a few minutes later, Paige pulled on a hoodie and disappeared out the door, leaving Caitlin curled in the bed, hair wild and skin warm, her heart still too full to name.

When Paige came back, arms full, the room smelled like garlic and salt. She opened the box on the bed with a dramatic flourish.

“What?” Paige said.

“I didn’t think I was hungry until right now.”

“Good girl.” She handed Caitlin a slice on a napkin. Caitlin took it with both hands like it might vanish. She looked up at Paige, then took a bite.

Her shoulders dropped. “Good?” Paige asked.

Caitlin nodded. “Yeah. Really good.”

They ate cross-legged, silent for a stretch. Paige reached over, wiped a dot of sauce from Caitlin’s lip with her thumb.

“I like feeding you,” she said.

Caitlin blushed, cheeks already pink from heat and sugar crash. “I’m aware.”

“Not just because it’s hot.”

They finished the slice together, Paige sneaking the crust from Caitlin’s hand like she was entitled to it.

After, Caitlin crawled toward the pillows and tugged Paige down beside her. Paige followed, limbs loose and full of warmth. They lay tangled in silence for a while, bodies aligned, breaths synced.

Eventually, Paige draped her arm over Caitlin’s waist and whispered, “You still good?”

“Mhm.”

“Wanna nap with me?”

“Only if you promise not to seduce me mid-REM cycle.”

“No promises.”

Caitlin smiled. “Okay,” she crashed out in Paige’s shoulder, safe and simple.

===

Caitlin woke to the sound of Paige breathing.

Not snoring. Not talking. Just steady breath, warm against the back of her neck. The sheets were twisted around her ankles, and the room smelled faintly of pizza grease, old motel soap, and skin. Her legs still ached, but it was a distant soreness now, more hum than burn.

She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light.

The clock said 4:41 p.m.

Outside the curtains, a neon vacancy sign buzzed lazily against the sky, pale now with late afternoon. The radiator clanked. Somewhere, a faucet dripped. There was a brown stain on the ceiling shaped like Michigan.

What a dump.

What a fucking perfect dump.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Paige shifted behind her, arm pulling tighter around her middle. Caitlin breathed in. Let it out. Stayed still.

There was something surreal about it. Like a whole day had passed inside a snow globe that didn’t know the rest of the world was still spinning. No phone calls. No cameras. No expectations. Just this broken little motel room and a girl who somehow saw straight through her and didn’t flinch.

She turned slowly, careful not to jostle Paige too much. “Are you awake?” she whispered.

Paige didn’t open her eyes. “Barely.”

Caitlin smiled, brushing a stray hair off her forehead. “I was just thinking how gross this place is.”

“Offended.”

“Not in a bad way. Just…” She glanced around. “We’re literally in a single-bed motel room next to a gas station with a flickering sign and what I’m pretty sure is a murder stain on the ceiling.”

“Murder stain’s in the shape of Michigan. So technically it’s a map.”

Caitlin snorted. “Right. Very educational.”

“But you like it,” Paige said. Not a question.

Caitlin nodded. “I do. I really do.” She paused. “It’s the first time in weeks I’ve felt like I could just… be.”

Paige opened her eyes at that. “Yeah?”

Her voice dropped. “No pretending. No performing. No trying to make everyone else comfortable.”

Paige brushed her thumb along Caitlin’s side. “I like you like this.”

After a beat, Caitlin spoke. “Can I ask you something?”

Paige nodded, sleepy but present. “When’s the last time you had a day like this?”

Paige blinked slowly. “What kind of day?”

“No schedule. No noise. Just… this.”

Paige let the question sit for a moment. Then she exhaled. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe never.”

They lay there a while longer. The pizza box sat open on the nightstand, the air still warm with garlic and salt. Caitlin’s cheek rested on Paige’s chest, the slow rise and fall of it keeping time.

After a while, Paige said, “We should go outside.” Caitlin made a sound that could’ve meant no or never or please don’t make me move. “I’m serious.” Paige stretched under her. “You’ll feel better.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“There’s a park two blocks down. I saw it on the way in.” Paige sat up, peeling the blanket back. “Come on. We’ll run until we can’t think.”

Caitlin blinked up at her. “You mean like an actual run? With effort?”

“You’ll survive.”

She groaned, but she was already reaching for her sports bra. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Paige grinned. “No. I’m lucky you’re obsessed with me.”

They got dressed in a quiet tangle. Caitlin found her leggings from where she’d kicked them earlier. Paige tugged on a clean tank and twisted her curls into a low bun. Outside, the afternoon had turned cold and crisp, the sky streaked with winter blue. They stepped out together, hoodies on, sneakers hitting pavement in sync.

They didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. Just ran side by side, shoulders brushing sometimes, breath rising in clouds. Caitlin found a rhythm. Paige didn’t push her. She just stayed close.

Around the second loop, Paige grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle mid-stride. Caitlin nearly fell over laughing.

“You’re the worst,” she wheezed.

“I’m the best.”

“You’re both.”

They jogged the rest of the way back, flushed and laughing.

===

When they got back, the room had softened. Late sun warmed the motel sheets. Paige lay on her back, one arm tucked behind her head. Caitlin curled beside her, face resting just beneath her ribs, fingers drawing invisible shapes along her hip bone.

Paige’s hand moved through Caitlin’s hair slowly and quietly.

“You always take care of me,” Caitlin said. Paige made a sound that wasn’t quite a reply.

“I mean it,” Caitlin added. “The way you touch me. The way you talk to me. You make me feel like I belong to myself again.”

“That’s why I keep thinking about it,” Caitlin murmured. “How you never let me touch you. Not like that.”

Silence fell. Not cold. Not distant. Careful. Paige’s hand slowed.

Caitlin shifted, just a little. “It’s not a complaint. No pressure. I just… I want to give something back. Not to flip it. Not to take control. I want to learn how to hold you the way you hold me.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her hand stilled entirely now, resting in Caitlin’s hair like it was anchoring them both.

“I want to make you feel good,” Caitlin said. “But more than that… I want you to trust me with that part of you. The part that receives.”

Paige’s breath caught. Then released slow. “It’s not about the sex,” she said finally. “Not for me. Not when it’s like that.”

Caitlin stayed quiet.

“It’s about what happens when I let someone in. Past the control. Past the performance. That part of me that just takes…” Her voice thinned. “I don’t show that to anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because once you’re seen like that,” Paige said, staring at the ceiling, “you can’t hide anymore. And I don’t know what I’d be if I didn’t have something left to hide.”

Caitlin leaned up, just enough to meet her eyes. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I know,” Paige said. “That’s what makes it so fucking scary.”

They looked at each other for a long time.

Then Paige said it. “I’d have to be in control the whole time.” The words landed heavy. 

Caitlin didn’t blink. “Okay.”

“You wait for my permission. You don’t move, you don’t touch, until I tell you to.”

“I’ll wait.”

“And if I say stop…”

“I’d stop,” Caitlin said. “Before you even have to finish the word.”

Paige searched her face. Something cracked, slow and careful, behind her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can give you everything,” she whispered. “But I want to give you something. I want you to learn me.”

Caitlin reached up, brushed her thumb just under Paige’s jaw. “Then teach me. However you need to. I’ll follow every word.”

Paige let out a slow breath and closed her eyes, like she was about to step off something high. “Okay, then let’s go slow,” she said. “I’ll show you how I want it.”

===

[dearsubong]

su bong vs his younger self ☆ choi su bong

warnings ✧ fluff, comedy ig, crack, swearing, woa unexpected implied smut @ da end

summary ✧ you wake up to the sight of your boyfriend arguing with a younger boy who looks exactly like him.

authors note ✧ i just had to use a younger top photo 😭 sorry for being inactive—just a short oneshot i was working on previously.

yawning softly as your eyes fluttered open from the bright sun peeking through the curtains. you’re surprised that su bong woke up before you, those thoughts disappeared as your nose caught the smell of burnt toast. you sat up before your feet led you to the kitchen, meeting a rather… unusual sight.

there was, of course, your boyfriend but there was also a younger man that looked exactly like him. but there was no purple hair and his facial features looked smooth and soft, unlike su bong. the man— or boy— looked 19 or 20, just stepping into adult hood. your boyfriend was arguing with him.

“fuck off, i know what i’m doing.” su bong mutters, nudging his shoulder against his lookalike’s chest, pushing him away. “no you don’t.” the younger man comments, his voice was just a little higher than your boyfriends. after standing there for a couple seconds, you before speaking up with a cough. “babe?” su bongs head snaps to you, looking back and forth between you and the unknown man that looks like his identical twin. “good morning, babe…” he mumbled. “who is that?” “well… he’s my younger self. i have no idea how he got here, he said he went into the future or some stupid shit.” your mouth turns into an ‘o’ shape before you nod. “i noticed how similar he looks to you.”

his younger self gasped as he took in the sight of you. “y/n? i got with y/n?!” su bong groans and looks to the side, side eyeing him. “she’s even more beautiful than in my time… do you even know how obsessed i am with her? but she keeps pushing me away. i knew I’d get to her. nice, older me.“ the boy flashed your boyfriends distinct smirk. “piss off, i got her, not you.“ su bong’s expression switched to annoyance and possessiveness.

“seriously? you’re me, i’m you. we got her.“

“oh, fuck off.“

“calm it broski.“

su bong side eyed himself, his upper lip looking like it got pulled up by a string on the side. “damn, my vocabulary was cringe back then.“ you laughed softly as he admitted that. “babe, trust me, it still is. all that ’senorita’ shit has been staying with you since day one.“ your purple headed boyfriend pouted. “nah, thats your favourite nickname, senorita. you know it.“ his charming words always got the best of you. “its only because of the way you say it. don’t get too ahead of yourself.“ su bong then raises his a brow. “is that right?” he plants a firm hand on your hip before kissing you sensually, the grip tightening.

“holy fuck, get a room! im not watching my future self kiss my crush.”

“well, guess what?”

“what?”

“she’s my girlfriend, fuckwit.”

“she’s gonna be my girlfriend, assfuck.”

“she’s gonna be my wife, shitface!”

“now you two are just spitting cuss words out of your mouths.” you interrupt. “and i’m gonna be your wife, baby? is this you proposing? i say yes.” they both side eye you like they want to continue. “no.” you replied like you had a language you can understand just by how they look at you. the two of them both groan in synchronisation and you laugh at how it sounded so harmonised. “don’t groan at me. but the way you two did the exact same groan is hysterical.”

“you think im funny, babe?” younger su bong raises his brows up and down flirtatiously.

“she’s my babe.”

“she’s both our babes.”

“mine.” he put his hand around your waist, gripping tight in dominance.

“ours.” younger su bong puts his own hand on the other side of your waist.

“you son of a bitch—mine.”

“well guess what? im you, so you called your own mom a bitch.”

“nah, talking about dad. he’s a bitch. you’re a son of THAT bitch.”

“you’re not wrong, to be honest.”

“okay, okay! just STOP.”

—

scrap those boring paragraphs and boring plot. guess what happened next?

a freaky deaky, sloppy toppy, steamy, wet threesome. ^_^

[itsbells]

I love these mini asks!!

My question is what’s their favorite sex position? It can be something they both like or don’t or a guilty pleasure position that they tried once and haven’t again for some reason but one of them likes it

i love them too! they’re so fun! i saw this last night and was like ohhh this is one is so goooodd. so i’ve been adding little by little as my day went on because i really wanted to post this tonight before i went to sleep. there’s definitely more i would like to add but i don’t want to keep anyone waiting too long lol sooo for now here you go!

this ask is so hot i loooovee. 🫣

౨ৎ⋆ 🍒｡⋆𐙚⋆🍓.˚₊⊹♡enjoy ౨ৎ⋆ 🍒｡⋆𐙚⋆🍓.˚₊⊹♡

as mentioned in my last post justin’s favorite position is the lotus position or the face off postion. he loves it because he can take in every inch of her. he loves watching her as she comes undone. he loves watching the way her body moves against his. he just falls into a complete trance by just looking at her. at first madison was kind of confused as to why he loved this position so much and literally putting her to work, considering he almost always put her in it but that was until she got a good look at him. she saw the way his eyes took her in. she saw the way he was completely enchanted by her. she’d be lying if she said it didn’t boost her ego, because 100% did.

justin pretty much loves any positions that let’s him look at her face. like missionary or cowgirl. oh he loves that one too. he loves watching her breast bounce. he won’t admit it because he still gets shy around her, but he honestly doesn’t have to, madison knows how much he loves her breast. she noticed it the first time they were intimate. he couldn’t look away. she was the one to initially make the move and place his hands on her them and ever since he couldn’t keep them off. whenever they were alone, justin’s wouldn’t miss a chance to let his hands roam her chest.

she could be sitting on her chair infront of the bathroom mirror getting ready for the day and he’ll come from behind wrapping his arms around her, giving her a hug and a kiss on her head. then as he pulls away he’ll give one of her boobs a light squeeze before letting go. he couldn’t get enough of them or her in general.

anyways carrying on, one of madison’s favorite positions would be the spooning position, she definitely loves to be a pillow princess occasionally and just lay on her side letting him go at his pace but there are times where she wants to take control and loves a good cowgirl position too.

she loves the spooning position because of how intimate it is. she loves feeling the warmth of justin’s body behind her. she especially loves it when he brings one of his hands behind her thigh bringing her leg up to give him more access as he thrusts into her. ugh she’ll never get enough of it. especially because of how different in size they are. madison being 5’6 and justin being 6’6 definitely made her have a size kink. how couldn’t she. he was huge, and even more down low.. but that’s another conversation..

she also loves the cowgirl position, and even a reverse cowgirl if she’s feeling bold. something about taking charge gets her going. at first she was a little intimidated because of… well his size. but it just made it even more intriguing for her. going back to how shy justin is sometimes, that was something she obviously noticed right away. which she didn’t mind at all, if anything it made it all more hotter when she took control. and justin absolutely loved it. so it’s definitely safe to say they both enjoy a good cowgirl position.

the first moment justin knew he loved when madison became dominant, was when he had just flown back to LA during the season and hadn’t seen madison in a couple of days. boy, was she excited to see him... and he kind of just let her do what she wanted with him. at first he was a bit reluctant because this was something new to him, usually he’s the one to take charge but as she continued her actions, he became in awe and truly loved every second of it. to the point where he didn’t care how much she teased him, there was just something about having such a beautiful girl being all over him that got him even more turned on.

now on the opposite side, madison absolutely loooved when justin was dominant. going back in to her loving to be a pillow princess, she loved a good face down ass up position. she is so obsessed when justin became “aggressively dominant.” only because it happens occasionally, mostly when a football game doesn’t go too well or when he’s just frustrated in general. she loves it when he does whatever he wants with her, she’s definitely more than willing when it came down to it. it was just so hot to watch such a cute, shy, nice man turn into this hot, aggressive giant. not to mention his words of encouragement during intercourse.. oof. it’s just hot.

as far as positions they didn’t like after trying it, there isn’t really any. only because i feel like they just enjoy being with each other so much that they don’t really have something they “like.” they’re just completely infatuated with each other to even care and are open to doing anything one of them wants to do/try. not sure if that make sense.

౨ৎ⋆ 🍒｡⋆𐙚⋆🍓.˚₊⊹♡the end ౨ৎ⋆ 🍒｡⋆𐙚⋆🍓.˚₊⊹♡

again, definitely more i can add but for now i hope you enjoyed! please send more, these are fun tehe

[macaroni-rascal]

Ok I just watched Hubbell/Donohue’s 2021 RD at worlds to Burlesque and I’m obsessed with this music for the Finnstep having really only watched VM’s Finnstep. Have you seen the performance? Do you like it? And if you’re so inclined to do this, how would you compare their technique to VM in Dream a Little Dream (which I love so much)? Thanks!

Hello! Thanks for the ask!

I have seen that performance. I love the finnstep, it's probably one of my favourite ice dance patterns, along with the golden waltz and the tango romantica.

I enjoyed it a lot that season because I thought Hubbell and Donohue had one of the better finnsteps. I'm sad to say you could really see a decline in quality in the level of steps since 2014, and most team really struggled with the quick, detailed, and intricate movements required for that pattern.

Everyone, Madi included really struggled with the twizzle at the beginning of the pattern, the women were putting their foot down, they were falling out of it, not actually doing a twizzle at all, it was rough out here. Tessa's twizzle was wonderful, she was sure, quick and her and Scott stayed in character. I also think Tessa and Scott skated closer together, which they were known for and experts at. By the time the finnstep came back around, the open hold trend had been en vogue for more than 6 years, and you could tell. H/B had solid speed and kept up their speed, but they could get a little messy in their feet/legs and didn't have quick snap that I think V/M excelled at.

To quote the iconic Tracy Wilson: "They say a finnstep should be like sparkling champagne. Bubbly, light, and crisp."

She compared Tessa and Scott to Dom Perignon, and I think Madi and Zack were just didn't have the level of effervescence and ease that was required for the steps to really flourish, but they did a solid job.

[deus-ex-mona]

did aizo really switch the hand with which he was holding his microphone just to hold hands with yujiro like that?

[mackthecheesy]

rip to the person in my dream last night who i was in a time loop trying to save </3 woke up before i ever could

[simptasia]

mum wasn't much into DS9, she didnt like it when it was airing, and only really started to get into it in the later years of her life. she loved quark. but still, i'm glad she got to see "dr. bashir i presume?" before she died

and she loved it

[danithefangirlbunny]

just so y'all know inside (2021) and inside the outtakes (2022) still hits as hard as they did when they came out

[cake-chad]

Me: *needs a reminder of which characters are in Edge of Midnight and googles it*

Ah. It's going on hiatus literally next week

Because of course it is 😂😂 that's just my luck

[classicjdog]

hey happy new year