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joonie-beanie · 3 days

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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself.

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked.

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask.

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”.

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building.

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands.

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment.

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say.

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket.

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours.

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you.

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today.

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day.

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you.

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be.

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright.

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat.

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy—

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening.

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice.

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm.

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back.

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat.

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him.

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette.

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass.

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay.

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe.

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart.

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours.

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop.

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body.

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm.

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you.

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt.

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head.

Finally, you're bare beneath him.

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass.

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before.

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger.

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away.

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!”

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much.

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair.

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.”

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you.

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is.

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension.

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole.

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom.

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin.

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours.

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body.

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more.

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go.

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss.

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm.

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you.

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent.

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips.

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you.

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you.

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you.

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek.

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy.

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station.

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office.

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more.

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes.

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body.

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment.

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze.

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

#genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette fic #genshin impact x reader #bean fic #genshin x reader

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moonstruckme · 3 days

Note

I know nothing about spencer actually, since I never watch his series. But I read on one of your fics that spencer is germphobia?

Could I request one where spencer gets home after a case for a week and found reader sick in the bathroom?, and she's kinda locked herself since she knows spencer germphobia?

You know that kind of fever where you sweat and throw up nonstop

It's been so long after you write spencer. I miss your spencer a lottttttt TnT

Thank you for requesting! I’m not totally sure if Spencer is canonically confirmed germophobic but he’s definitely sensitive to germs, so we’ll roll with that :)

cw: nausea, vomiting

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 832 words

You’re not at your best, shaky and sweaty, but when you hear the front door open you move quick as a flash.

“Hello?” Spencer’s call echoes through the apartment.

“Hi,” you say back, quieter than you intend. Still, he finds you easily, and you’re glad you reacted fast when the handle on the bathroom door jiggles. “What are you doing here?”

Spencer’s taken to staying at your place, but when he’d called you from the jet to tell you his case was over you’d said to go back to his apartment. With what he knows about how sick you’ve been the last couple of days, you thought he’d listen.

“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he answers simply. He doesn’t try the handle again, but his voice sounds just on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit, breathing through another wave of nausea, “but I’ll be fine. You should go home.”

“I am home. Open the door.”

“Spence,” you sigh. The tips of your fingers are cool against your temples, and you press them in to quell the uneasy feeling that comes with having your brain so muddled. “You don’t want to come in here.”

“Why can’t I decide that?” There’s an odd scraping sound on the other side of the door.

“Because you’re too nice. I know how you feel about germs.” The mutinous acid vat of your stomach revolts again, and you cough a couple of times, swallowing forcefully.

“I’m just as likely to get sick from pressing an elevator button,” Spencer insists gently. “Seriously, let me in.”

“Go home,” you plead.

“I’m coming in.”

You sigh, bending to lean your head against the cool porcelain of your tub. “What, are you going to kick the door in?” He’s told you about his coworker Morgan doing that, but you don’t think of your scrawny (though you love him for it) boyfriend as capable of such measures.

“Not quite.” Another scraping sound, and you sit up as your bathroom door tips outward. Spencer catches it before it can fall, easing it down onto the floor before stepping over it. He’s taken the whole thing off its hinges.

“Show off,” you say tiredly, too spent to do anything about it as he walks over to you.

“Yeah, well,” Spencer lifts some flyaway baby hairs off your neck, cool knuckles pressing to the hot skin, “I didn’t want to damage your door. You didn’t tell me your fever was this bad.”

“I told you I was sick.”

“I feel like ‘sick’ is more or less ambiguous,” he says, not unkindly. His touch moves to your face, long, slender fingers laying down across your forehead. “How high is it?”

“Dunno.” You swallow thickly. “Haven’t checked. Are you okay?”

“I touched a dead body yesterday; so long as I shower after this I’ll be fine. How have you not checked?”

“I can’t—find—” You cough as bile rises in your throat, bending over the toilet “—the—”

“Okay, it’s okay.” Spencer rubs your back. Your coughing turns into retching. “I got it. I’ll look for the thermometer soon, okay?”

You nod, tears pressing at your eyes as you dry heave. The muscles in your throat and abdomen spasm painfully.

Spencer makes a sorry sound, his hand coasting up and down the ridges of your spine. “You haven’t been eating anything, have you?” It’s not really a question. “We need to get something in your system. You know that ‘starve a fever’ saying is an old wives’ tale, right?”

He sits with you until the fit abates, then stands and leaves the room. You hear cabinet doors opening and shutting, and before long he’s got a wet rag cooling the back of your neck, you’re sipping water out of a straw, and he’s sticking your previously missing thermometer in your ear.

“I’ll probably have to go soon if I want to get to the store before it closes,” he’s saying quietly, free hand settled comfortably north of your knee. You’re trying really hard not to breathe in his face. “It’d be good to have some cheerios or something for you to eat, and something with electrolytes.”

The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it close to read the screen, a frown pursing his pretty lips.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” you ask, though at this point you really want him to as well. “I don’t want to freak you out.”

Spencer sets the thermometer aside. “You’re not freaking me out,” he says, hands gentle as he takes the rag from your neck and folds it onto a new side before putting it back. You almost sigh. “The worst thing that can happen is I get sick, and” —he meets your eyes, mouth tipping upward as he shrugs— “if that happens, it can’t be helped. But if I went back to my apartment, and I was fine there but you were still sick here by yourself, well, what’s the point in that?”

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flemingsfreckles · 2 days

Text

Something New (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: you and Jessie get teased for your assumed “vanilla” sex life, you decide to take Jessie on a trip to find some new things to try in the bedroom.

Warnings: suggestion to sex, sex toys, visiting adult store, (handcuffs, blindfolds, strap-on, buttplug, vibrators), none of the toys actually being used.

WC: 2.4k

A/N: if yall want a part 2 in which the toys are actually used, I can do that :)

“Oh come on there’s got to be something you want to try that we haven’t?” You pull up the sheet from where it had been kicked off the bed, covering your naked body before laying down next to your equally naked girlfriend.

“I don’t know.” Jessie just remained lying on her back, not making eye contact with you. Her chest was still rising and falling quickly, catching her breath.

“Oh come on, don’t be shy with me, after what we just did there’s no reason to be shy.” You two had just finished what was supposed to be quick morning sex but turned into a competitive match. Giving each other orgasm after orgasm until about 11am when you both finally tapped out.

“Are you asking because of what happened at Sam’s house?” Jessie asks.

The two of you had been at a party the night before at Sam’s with the rest of the team, playing various card and board games which led quickly to playing drinking games that somehow always ended up in discussions of everyone’s sex life.

When you started dating, you and Jessie had agreed to not disclose too much about what you two do behind closed doors to your nosey teammates. It was originally an idea out of shyness on Jessie’s part, you had never minded indulging your teammates in your experience but out of respect for Jessie and your relationship you kept your mouth shut for the most part. You started to like the secrecy of what went on in your beds, no one knew the details, just you and her. So when you were asked the craziest thing you’ve done in bed, you sipped away at your drink instead of answering. Unsatisfied with your choice to not answer, Sam began to accuse you and Jessie of having an incredibly boring and “vanilla” sex life. You tried to defend yourself and Jessie, Jessie being too shy to be any help, the teasing from your teammates had only continued.

“No.” You’re quick to answer, not even really thinking. “Okay maybe, I don’t know, I don’t think our sex is boring though, I love having sex with you. It just made me think and just thought I’d ask if there was anything you wanted to try.”

You truly didn’t find your sex life with Jessie boring at all, she was excellent in bed, able to meet and exceed your needs and the two of you being athletes meant you had the stamina to last as long as you wanted. You collectively owned a strap-on and a vibrator but nothing else. It worked for the two of you, it was great sex. But even great sex sometimes could use something new, something for a little change of pace. You also knew Jessie well enough to know even if there was something she was interested in, she most likely would keep it to herself until you pried it out of her.

“I don’t know.” You can tell she’s withholding information, still too shy to put her ideas into words. But you decide not to push it, it was a little bit of a personal question to throw on her and expect an immediate answer.

“Alright babe, if you come up with anything, you can tell me. Want to get a shower?” She nods, finally making eye contact with you as you both get up from the bed and move to the bathroom. You let the question go unanswered for now, secretly hoping Jessie would come up with something to tell you in the next couple of days.

After a week passes since you had asked Jessie if she wanted to try anything out in bed and not getting any form of a hint or answer, you decide maybe a little field trip would help. Maybe Jessie just didn’t know what she wanted to try, maybe this would give her some suggestions.

“Where are we going?” Jessie asked for the fifth time since you told her to get dressed and ready to leave the house. She claimed she needed to know where you were going so she could dress appropriately.

“I’ve told you, it’s a surprise.” You turn back to look at your girlfriend as you grab your keys.

“You know I hate surprises.” She mumbles as she follows you down the hallway from your apartment out the door. Jessie wasn’t a big fan of surprises, she liked having all the information and surprises made her feel out of control.

“Jessie it’ll be fine, I promise. If you hate it for some reason we can leave. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I trust you.” She gets into the passenger seat of your car and you start driving. You debated having her close her eyes but it didn’t feel necessary, you weren’t going too far. You drove for another 25 minutes before you pulled into the parking lot of a small shop.

“You brought me to an adult store?!” Her voice is a mix of confusion and also a little bit scared.

“Yes, I did but we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I just thought, maybe we could look around?” You don’t want her to feel forced, but you thought this would be a good way to maybe suggest new ideas for the two of you.

“What if someone sees us?” You’re convinced her voice is raised a few octaves.

“Jessie, we’re adults. We’re also publicly dating, people know we have sex.”

“Still.” She was bouncing her leg, head swiveling to look around the car to the empty parking lot, and she was nervously playing with her fingers. You start to think maybe you should’ve asked if she’d want to do this before you made it a surprise. Or maybe just going online shopping would’ve been a better choice for someone like Jessie.

“Babe,” you place a hand on her knee, trying to settle it, “we don’t have to go in. If you don’t want to, we won’t. We also can go in and then immediately leave, whatever you want.”

She doesn’t say much, just looking at the door of the shop. You can tell she’s having an argument within herself on what she wants to do. You let her ponder, she slowly stops fiddling with her fingers, wiping her hands, that were likely sweating slightly on her legs.

“Let’s go in.”

“Are you sure?” Now worried she feels forced by you and like she has to go into the store.

“Yeah.” Before she’s able to get out of the car you grab her hand.

“If you want to leave, just tell me, we’ll go.” She nods and you both get out of the car and walk into the store.

You’d been in a store like this once before, buying a joke gift for a bachelorette party, but never when looking for something you actually wanted. The toys you owned had been purchased online.

You didn’t know where to start so you decided to just take a lap around the whole store, then figuring out where you wanted to look. Jessie followed you around like a lost puppy, her eyes barely leaving the floor, glancing up only to look at you.

You move over to the wall of dildos, you liked the one you had for your strap currently, but a new one wouldn’t hurt. It’s a little overwhelming, every color and size imaginable on the wall, ones that vibrate, ones that spin, ones that have heating elements. That sounded like a fire hazard to you. Your eyes scan over all the options, a few catching your eye, you prefer the fun colors, you look at sizes comparable to the one you already owned. It worked for both of you, no reason to make too much of a change with a new one.

You turn to see Jessie, surprised to see she’s actually looking up at the wall instead of the floor. You watch as her eyes scan, before setting on a blue dildo that looks to be slightly larger than the one you already owned. Her eyes wander away and then come back to the blue one. You give her a second to make a decision or movement to grab the toy, she doesn’t.

“You like that one?” You point at it on the wall. Jessie doesn’t say anything, just turning to look at you and then back to the box and then to the floor.

“Jessie, if you want it we can get it.” You notice the slightest nod of her head, but she doesn’t make a move to grab it. You sigh, letting out a small laugh at your girlfriend’s shy behavior, given she was the opposite in the bedroom once you got her going. You take the box off the wall and throw it into the basket you had picked up.

Jessie walks away and out of the section you were in, not saying anything to you. Now it was you who was the one following her around the store. She moves over to a wall of assorted items. Small vibrators, bottles of lube, gags, paddles, all sorts of things. You watch her carefully as her eyes scan again. This time they don’t stop for too long on anything. You assume nothing has peaked her interest. She takes a few steps around the corner to another wall of items. You grab a bottle of lube off the shelf, identical to the one you already owned, you weren’t running out quite yet but there wasn’t really such a thing as too much lube.

You scan the wall yourself before following Jessie around the corner. You see her hand reach out slightly toward something before she withdraws when she notices you coming around the corner. Her hand drops but she’s still looking at it when you come over. It’s a blindfold and handcuff set.

“Really?” You look at her, shock probably across your face as your hand grabs the box. She nods again, still not using her voice. You throw it in the basket. The thought of your hands restrained to the headboard while Jessie had her way with you, or hers being restrained while you got to tease her had you clenching your thighs together, ready to leave the store and try it out.

You are now just following Jessie around the store, less looking for yourself and just watching her eyes carefully as she has yet to actually say any words about what she wants to you. As you walk by a section of harnesses you see ones with a pocket where you could put a vibrator. You try to think if the one you have at home has a pocket but you can’t remember.

“Babe,” you whisper yell across the store to where Jessie was wandering around. She quickly comes over to you. “Does our harness have this pocket? I can’t remember.”

She nods at you and gives a quiet “Yes.”

“Oh, should we get something for it? We don’t have anything small enough to go in there.” You grab for one of the smaller bullet vibrators and hold it up to Jessie, cocking your head to ask her if she wanted it. She just gives you a nod again.

Jessie returns back to where she was before, you follow her over. She’s looking at another wall of assorted items. Only instead of walking past this one her eyes are glancing and then looking away only to draw back to some boxes. When you realize what she's looking at, your jaw nearly falls open, but not wanting to make her question her interest you keep a straight face.

“That?” You point at the silver butt plug Jessie was looking at.

“Only if you’d want it?” You realize she means she wants to use it on you, if you’d let her. You’d never tried it, but figured no harm in trying things out.

“Sure, I’m open to trying whatever with you.” You grab the box, throwing it into your surprisingly full basket. You hadn’t realized how many things you had picked up on your lap around the store.

You’ve nearly made it through the whole store, taking a last stop to look at some of the lingerie. You flip through the options while Jessie is back to standing behind you as if she was hiding. You find a red lacy matching set and throw it into the basket, you look back to see Jessie’s eyes wide as she sees what you had picked out. You flash her a smirk, knowing she’s picturing you wearing the outfit.

“You all done?” You ask your girlfriend. She gives you a nod and reaches into her pocket grabbing out her wallet and handing you her card.

“I’ll get it.” You wave off her card but she sticks the card into your hand again. You roll your eyes, taking her card and turning to go check out, leaving Jessie wandering behind you, not wanting to interact with the employees.

You check out quickly and look back to get Jessie’s attention as you’re ready to leave. She follows you quickly out the door and rushes to the car. You place the bag in the trunk and get in the drivers seat.

“See I knew there was stuff you wanted to try but were too shy to say it.” You poke at her cheek. “You could’ve told me.” You tease her gently you knew she was shy, she always had been since you met her, she was shy with everyone.

She doesn’t say anything but you notice the blush on her cheeks reddening. You decide to leave her be, not wanting to tease her too much. At least not yet, maybe later in the bedroom.

You throw the car in drive and leave the shop, heading home. When you get home you throw the contents of the bag on the bed. “So where do you want to start?” You ask Jessie turning to see her looking at everything you had bought.

“Handcuffs maybe the new dildo too?” She says with a questioning look, one eyebrow raised at you, no longer shy like she was at the store.

You nod quickly at her.

“Get on the bed.” Her tone is demanding, she reaches to pick up the handcuffs and blindfold as she makes her way to the side of the bed. You lay down and Jessie straddles your waist, her weight holding you to the bed. She drops the handcuffs before grabbing your hands with hers interlocking your fingers and pinning your hands above your head with her strength.

She leans down as if she’s going to kiss you, before moving to the side to place her lips against your ear. “This is going to be fun.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut #jessie fleming blurb #jessie fleming smut

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bisexualiteaa · 1 day

Note

DESPERATELY needing a sequel to the sex pollen! Fic,,, they keep the chems and cooper takes some either on purpose or by accident and poor vaultie is going to have to consider restraining him 👅 he's too feral (in the BEST sense)

A Flame in Your Heart Pt. 2

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: established relationship, cursing, NSFW MDNI, slight deviation from TV show, slight OOC Cooper, perverted thoughts, oral (fem recieving) drug use, alcohol use, dub-con (from drug use but consent is very clearly given!!) sex-chem usage! p in v, p0rn w/o plot, absolute filth, riding, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, multiple irradiated cream pies, fluffy ending, briefly proof read, possible spelling/grammar errors

AN: and just like our man Hancock needing love, had to make sure ol’ Coop got some love too. 😉 I’m glad this one has done so well! I hope I did your ask justice Anon! Thank you again for your request and I hope you enjoy the absolute FILTH that is this sequel. 👅

After your accidental discovery of the sex chem that led to your crazy sexcapade, Cooper decided to pocket the borderline heat inducing drug for a later use. He’d be a liar if he said the idea of *him* experimentally taking it hadn’t crossed his mind a plethora of times since the incident. Would it have any effect on him? Would it make him as sensitive and desperate as you were? Or would his body take it in stride like everything else? He figured there was really only one way to find out the answer to his curiosities. So one night, when you hadn’t any bounties the next day, were stocked on supplies and just had a chance to stay and hole up at the mini-mart, that’s exactly what he did. He popped it, chasing it with whatever liquor was on hand at the time in his flask hidden in his duster, waiting for it to start to take effect.

In the time that he had taken the pill without your knowing, you were running around cleaning the place up some, and then making dinner. Little did he know, you had snuck one for yourself just a little prior when he wasn’t looking, also thinking that tonight would be the perfect night to go all out like the last time. He smirked to himself as he watched you run around everywhere, watching your hips sway as you walked, paying close attention to your ass that was mostly covered in the shorts you were wearing, save for the bottom part of your ass cheeks that poked out some and the back of your bare thighs each time you’d bend over. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to do anything intimate other than a short quickie in fear of raiders catching you in, quite literally, a vulnerable position. It was as his eyes began to linger and follow you that he started feeling the unbearable heat you complained about, coupled with the way that he was now painfully hard in his pants in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He contemplated walking up behind you and pressing himself against you to make it known, yanking your little ripped up shorts and panties down and taking you right then and there, but he resisted. Damn was he hard as fuck though. It was actually beginning to become a bit of a problem for him, he couldn’t move without it brushing against the fabric of his pants, or seem to find a way to sit comfortably unless he had his legs spread. Then he’d think about how pretty you’d look on your knees, not caring about the dirt on the floor as you’d sit between his legs with his fat cock in your mouth. He grunted softly to himself as he slid his hand into one of his pockets incase you would turn around to look at him and see the tent in his pants.

Little did he know that you were doing some of the teasing things on purpose, bending over in front of him when you didn’t need to, taking off your shirt when you complained about it being too hot. You were about ready to skip dinner to head straight for dessert, but you knew you had to play this out, and you needed to play it smart. Poor Cooper on the other hand wasn’t holding up as well as he thought he would, it was as if it got worse and worse in cruel phases. First is the absurdly high body temperature, higher than normal. Then came the perverted thoughts he couldn’t shake as he stared at you, then the throbbing to his dick, and it only intensified the longer he went without some form of relief.

“I ever tell you ya look damn good in them shorts, sugar?” He asked, practically staring holes into you as you’d bent over in front of him to pick up a few stray things off the floor. “Plenty of times, but I’ll always take some more compliments. They’re a hot commodity when they come from you” you said back a little too flirtatiously as you stood back up far too slowly for it not to be intentional, paired with a mischievous grin to match and his dick damn near jumped in his pants. “You bend over one more god damn time, I ain’t responsible for what happens next, little lady” he threatened, making you give a sound of intrigue at his threat before giggling as a heat coursed through your body from the thought. Being bent over the couch again as your legs were spread and his hand rested in your hair wasn’t a half bad spot to find yourself in. In fact you craved that, hoping the chem would help you release that inner whore he liked so much. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Is it a “not making it through dinner” kinda night tonight then?” You asked teasingly before he did a “come hither” motion with his finger, urging you closer to him before patting his lap for you to take a seat on. “It’s a “not even making it to dinner” kinda night sweetheart. And I don’t think I’m the only one thinkin’ I’d rather have dessert first for a change” he said, making you grin even wider and god how he just wanted to make those pretty eyes of yours roll into the back of your head. You climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs as you sat down with a grin, your hands roaming his chest and beneath his duster to signal him to remove it as you leaned in close. “Well then take it if you want it so bad, honey” you challenged, making him give an amused hum in response before leaning up and pulling you into a needy, heated kiss. You smiled into it as you rolled your hips against his, earning a deep, guttural groan as his hands soon found purchase on your ass, roughly squeezing it in his large hands. He enjoyed the moans that left you from his rough treatment as he made your hips continue to roll against his as your hands traveled along his chest. “I see what left ya so needy for me, took one of them lil’ Date Nights you were trippin’ on a while back. Been achin’ to fuck you stupid” he said, making you giggle as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. “Mmm…well we’re certainly in for a treat. ‘Cause I took one too” you replied, making him chuckle.

It didn’t take long before Cooper found his way between your legs, what you hadn’t been expecting was the fact that he had you sat down on his face. Sure he’s eaten you out before, but for a man who needed to feel in control and dominant in just about every situation in life, it was nice to let that go for a little bit. “Fuck! Oh god, Cooper…” you moaned as his tongue violated you, sinking deep into your entrance, then working its way up to tease your clit. You sighed blissfully as your hips rolled against the wet muscle, making him groan as you used him. His hands gripped your thighs roughly, keeping you against him and allowing you to do what you needed to seek release as he devoured you like you were his last meal. “So good f’ me” he rasped out before going to suck on your clit, leaving you screaming for him as it brought you closer. You were embarrassed by how fast the knot in your stomach was already close to snapping, blaming the chem for the way it’d get you so worked up you’d be cumming quicker than you normally do. Or at least you would be if it didn’t feel so damn good. He moaned into you at the taste of you, watching all the faces you made from beneath you so he had the perfect view of you, listening to all your pretty sounds, it was all too much for him to handle with such a powerful chem in his system. You felt him groan into you as you came on his tongue, feeling his body move to buck his hips into the air as he reached his peak without a single touch. You sighed happily as you worked yourself down from cloud nine, bucking your hips against his tongue gently before finally letting up and letting him move. “Well ain’t that somethin’” he said as you both shifted lower to straddle his lap before seeing cum painting his lower stomach and still leaking from his cock that twitched with need.

You gave an intrigued chuckle at the sight, taking his heavy cock in your hands and working it up and down, using his cum as lube. He hissed at the sensitivity he normally never felt, he usually had a remarkably quick recovery time if he wanted to go multiple rounds, but it was apparent that this chem had all sorts of effects that made him feel human again. “Been a long time since I had that happen” he said, making you grin. “Kinda hot if you ask me” you replied, making him give a raspy laugh in response as he softly tapped your ass to get you to stop using your hand already and ride him. He watched as you sank down onto him, moaning as you felt him stretch your walls out before he cruelly slammed himself the rest of the way inside of you. Your body jolted from the sudden intrusion, white hot electricity climbing up your spine from it before he was moving you at his own brutal pace. “Ain’t got time for subtleties here, darlin’, certainly ain’t got the patience to go slow” he said, and judging by the loud moans and way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head already as his tip bullied the apex to your cervix, he figured that was alright by you. “Cooper! Holy shit…” you managed to say through your moans as your hands rested against his chest, doing all you could to hold on for dear life as he used you like a sex toy. “Fuck sugar, always squeezin’ me so damn tight, even after all the times I fuck you” he commented, enjoying the way your face would twist up in momentary pain each time he’d first slide in like he was too big for you to handle. He always loved that, enjoying the way you’d eagerly prove you could take it all, hungry to have him balls deep so that he could reach all those spots inside of you your fingers couldn’t reach. The sound of skin harshly slapping skin, the squelching of your pussy as he drilled into you from below you and your shared pants and moans filled the air like a symphony of pure, unadulterated sin. You just couldn’t get enough of it, and neither could Cooper.

He groaned as he looked down at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of your tight cunt, watching as a ring formed around the base of him from your excitement. He always wondered how a sweet thing like you managed to fall for such a depraved man like himself, but it was moments like this that reminded him that you weren’t as sweet as you lead on to be. He watched as you sat back on the haunches of your feet, your thighs jiggling, tits bouncing as your eyes clenched shut from bliss. “Huh-uh, eyes on me pretty lady” he said, pulling your attention down to him, your half lidded gaze falling upon him made him about ready to cum again if he wasn’t careful. Your mouth hung partially open as your brows furrowed from pleasure, and judging by the pitch of your moans and how close together they were getting, he could tell you were close. “Come on baby, cum for me. Wanna see that pretty face twist up and scream for me” he said, making you bite your lip as your mind clouded over, not a single thought in your head save for his name falling from your lips. “Cooper! Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You warned, your hands coming to you with your breasts to add some stimulation to send you over the edge. “That’s it, go ‘head. Let go f’ me” he responded, talking you through it as your legs clamped against the outsides of his thighs, your walls squeezing around him as you came with a scream of his name.

He wasn’t much farther behind, a few sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts later and your walls were painted with his seed, a groan leaving him as he throbbed inside of you, feeling you milk him for all he could give you. You looked at each other, gasping for air and sweat lightly collecting along your skin but it wasn’t enough to sate the beast inside you both. So rather than enjoying the after glow, you were being manhandled into a new position. This time you were on the couch, on your hands and knees as he lined himself up to your leaking hole from behind. His fingers collected his spend that was dripping from you and down the insides of your thighs, grinning as he pushed it back inside. “Bet you’d love if I fucked a cute little baby into you, wouldn’t ya?” He asked, and the thought sent a pleasant tingle straight to your core at the idea of being bred. You whimpered as he teased his tip up and down your slit, collecting your combined cum together as lube as he chuckled. “Too bad them days are gone” he said, soon lining himself up to your entrance finally and pushing in with little resistance. You moaned and arched your back as he sheathed himself in one thrust, your hands clenching the arm rest of the couch as support. “Don’t mean we can’t practice incase they ain’t” he said, starting his brutal pace once more, leaving you slack jawed as your head tilted back to moan from how he hit all sorts of spots inside of you that you loved. “Yes! Want that so bad” you moaned, making him chuckle. “I bet you do” he replied with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips once more as he fucked you, watching your ass and thighs jiggle from the force of his hips meeting yours. “Wanna be bred, have my babies?” He asked, making you whimper as your walls tightened around him at the thought. “Want that so bad, please!! Knock me up” you moaned, truly lost in a whole different world from the pleasure. He gave a dry chuckle, enjoying the way you were so honest and so carefree when it came to sex, it was like you were a whole different person when he was inside of you. “Bet you do, such a good little whore for me ain’tchya?” He asked, making you moan once more at the use of praise and degradation together for something so blissfully sinful. “Yes! All yours, Cooper” you replied through your pants and gasps as he angled his thrusts to press against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside of you that drove you crazy.

He watched as you began to melt, lowering your upper body down and leaving your ass up to create the perfect arch for him to keep hitting it. “Yeah, ya like that spot, sweetheart?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious but he was a little lost himself in it all, never the type to ramble so much during sex but you both realized that chem could do some pretty interesting things. “Yes!! Don’t stop, don’t stop! I’m so fucking close!” You pleaded, and who was he to deny you when you looked this good for him? He gave a devious grin as his hand reached down into your hair, pushing your face into the couch cushions. Not enough to suffocate you, but enough to establish just who was in charge this time. Despite your face being held into the couch, your moans were still loud as ever, not that he’d ever complain. “Cooper!!” You cried as you came powerfully around his dick, your walls squeezing him tight as your release gushed and covered his cock, sending him tumbling over the edge himself as he spilled inside of you once more. “Fuck…I love it when you do that” he said, tapping your outer thigh as a signal to move positions, lazily flipping yourself on your back as he kicked your legs apart once more, already ready to go at it again. “Can gimme one more, yeah sugar?” He asked you, and he knew like this, you’d give him anything he ever asked for. So it was no surprise that your legs locked around his hips as he slipped inside of you for the third time that evening.

As an hour or two soon came to pass, you weren’t exactly sure how long it’d been, time was completely lost on you at this point, you both were just happy to have found yourselves finally sated from the powerful effects of the chem. You both panted, looking at each other with grins at the fact that the most memorable night of your relationship had just occurred once again. “That will never NOT be fun” you replied, making him laugh dryly as he took a swig from his flask before offering it to you once he was finished. You happily accepted as you took a few sips from it, unsure whether it eased or burned your tired throat even more but you didn’t care, it was something at least. “Been thinkin’ whether it’d actually work for me like it did for you, guess we got that answer” he said as he got up to find something to clean yourselves up with, making you laugh in response. “Well, was certainly my kinda date night” you said, watching him walk back over with a wet rag in hand to clean you up then himself before slipping his briefs back on and his shirt. “Too bad dinner’s cold now” you said, making him shrug nonchalantly, earning an eye roll from you as you slipped your underwear and a shirt back on, then dished out two bowls of your famous stew he loved so much. “If it’s made by you, ain’t nothin’ out there that could possibly ruin it” he said, kissing your head sweetly as you handed him his bowl, both of you sitting back on the couch together.

You leaned your head against his shoulder with a soft, happy smile while you watched some of the tapes left behind to play in the TV, having something akin to the wasteland version of movie night. His arm draped around you to pull you into his side, keeping you close to him as he smiled softly down at you. He couldn’t believe that he managed to snag one hell of a woman out here in the wastes, but one thing was for sure, he certainly wasn’t letting you go now or ever.

#cooper howard #fallout #cooper howard x reader #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul #asks #fallout smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut

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nvuy · 15 hours

Note

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THE BOOTHILL COMMUNITY I'm eating very well this week salute for your contribution 🫡🫡🫡 I also like the idea of sappy boothill he's the type to say "my girlfriend hates me I hope I die" and the Jessica and Roger rabbit dynamic is so!!!

he’s your ride or die. it’s most definitely a case of somebody asking “what do you see in him?” to which you reply “he makes me laugh.”

he’s so whipped to the point he’ll be in a serious debacle with somebody, guns drawn, throwing threats, but as soon as he hears the custom ringtone he’s set up that indicates that it’s you calling, he holds up a finger to his opponent and answers the call.

example: “oh, keep talking.” his gun is aimed directly in the centre of his opponent’s forehead. “one more word and i’ll blow a nice hole through yo–”

his pocket vibrates and chimes a ridiculous tune.

gun disappears back in its holster, the red targets in his irides fade and he turns his body away to answer the phone. “hey sweetie!”

his opponent is stunned. “wh–”

boothill holds up a finger. “of course i can buy dinner on the way home! what do you want to eat?” his opponent just barely hears a voice speaking on the other side of the phone. “mhm… i can get that… no problem… hey, you’re not working on friday, right? i’ll take ya out for dinner. there’s a nice little restaurant on the xianzhou luofu i think you’d like… sound good? i’ll see you tonight… love ya lots.”

probably makes kissy noises before he hangs up.

“seriously? are you–”

whoops. trigger finger’s a bit too itchy today.

adding onto what you said, he’s so sad when you’re upset with him. to me, he seems very disorganised and more of a risk taker. he’s got a body of steel; lots of risks won’t even leave a dent on him. he’s constantly running late to things, constantly leaving tasks unfinished to start something he finds more interesting. he’s in for the thrill of the ride.

one time, he forgot a date he himself had set up.

not only did he come home to find you clearly upset over it, but he was absolutely fuming at himself. apologised one million times to you, two million kisses, probably got on his knees, and he can’t ever forgive himself.

even if you’ve already forgiven him, you’re laughing and trying to get him to stand up because “you’re a grown man acting like this.” he latches onto you like a koala bear.

it’s not even that deep either. it’s just a lunch. it’s not like it was a special occasion. speaking of which, he’d never forget a birthday, valentine’s day, whatever traditional holidays you celebrate. never ever.

he’s actually such a sappy gooey loser it’s so sweet. his favourite thing to do is bury his face in your neck or your chest or your lap. he’s all over you like sticky sweet honey, and you can’t get rid of him that easily.

#$. love mail #$. anon #$. mindless prattling #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill #boothill x you #hsr boothill x reader #boothill hsr

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miley1442111 · 1 day

Text

safe- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

you and aaron have jack (obvi) and a daughter, ellie. :) (1.4k + words)

summary: you become an unsubs target

pairing: husband/dad aaron hotchner x wife/mother reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, knives, stitches, head wounds, trauma talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, etc.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There you stood, your own blood as well as another's blood all over your body.

What happened?

You were just leaving work, you were going to pick up Jack and Ellie on your way home. It was taco night, you three would cook together tonight, though since Aaron was on a case a few states over, you would be the only ones doing it. So, how did that exact same unsub get to you?

You sat in the ambulance, stitches going into your skin, but you weren’t even flinching, you didn’t even feel it. You knew Jack and Ellie were expecting you, so was Jessica.

“Can I make a phone call?” You whispered to the paramedic. She nodded her head, sympathy on her face. “Thank you.”

You pulled out your phone as she finished the stitches in your head, moving onto the ones in your arms.

“Hey Jess,” You sighed into the phone.

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked. “Do you want me to take Jack and Ellie for the night?”

You could honestly cry at her generosity. “Yes please, thank you so much Jess.”

“No problem,” she smiled, worried from the other line. “Are you hurt?” she whispered.

“I’ll be ok, someone just… yeah,’ you sighed. “Tell Jack and Ellie I love them, yeah?”

“Always.”

You hung up. The paramedic finished up and the officer who had been sitting with you for the past few minutes escorted you to a squad car and brought you to the station, informing you that the FBI were on their way. The FBI, really? Surely it wasn’t Aaron, right?

God, you missed Aaron. You’d never wanted to see him more in your life. Just to know he was ok, that he was there.

Such luxuries could not be afforded at that current moment.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron sat beside David on the plane, exhaustion pulling at his eyes as Spencer read out the latest attack.

“Oh, apparently there was one survivor,” Spencer said. “That might be his next target.”

“We should look into them, what’s the name?” David asked as Aaron yawned.

“Y/n Y/l/n, she has a son, daughter, and husband,” Spencer said, and Aaron was wide-awake again.

“Pardon?” He asked, hoping he’d heard wrong.

“Y/n Y/l/n. She was beaten pretty badly and had a head wound and a stab to the arm, she’s at the station now. SHe agreed to a cognitive interview. She’s a professor of nuclear physics at a university nearby-” Spencer reads off.

“She has more pHds than boy genius, 5 and counting,” Penelope interrupts him from the screen.

“Well, she is older than me,” he stressed, attempting to keep some of his pride.

“By what, 4 years?” Emily snorted, the rest of the team laughed, but Aaron was frozen.

A head wound? You got stabbed? He felt faint. Immediately, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone, trying to call you.

You didn’t pick up.

He tried again as the team stared at him in bewilderment. What was he doing?

No answer again.

“Sir-”

“I want a profile before we leave this plane,” he ordered and the team all stared at him. “Is that too much for you?” He asked snarkily. They all shook their heads and began breaking off into groups to work. Aaron stayed seated, a million thoughts running through his head at once. Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? How much blood did you lose? Was the unsub already on his way to you again? Were you a target because of him?

“Hotch I think we have something,” Morgan stated after 30 minutes. “The unsub is targeting women with the same description as the survivor. I'd say he’s a college student who is jealous of her husband. He’s formed a parasocial relationship and obsession with her and his delusions have led him to hurt those closest to her. It makes sense she’s beautiful, described as being extremely kind and caring about her students, she’s ridiculously intelligent, and apparently she and her husband are madly in love with each other. What’s her husband’s name Pen?” Derek asked, looking at the computer.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said, a gasp following her words. Aaron looked up, meeting the eyes of the team as they stared back, shocked.

He could deal with them later.

“Send police to Jessica's house,” he ordered before he got up to go to the back of the plane for a moment of peace. He took out his phone, dialling Jessica’s number.

“Hey, is Y/n ok?” She asked. “I have Jack and Ellie right now, are you with her?”

“Not yet, I’ve sent police to your house, just as extra protection, ok?”

“Alright Aaron. Take care of her when you see her, she seemed pretty shaken.”

“Course,” he gritted out and hung up. This was going to be difficult.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in an office, a cop’s jacket strung over your shaking shoulders. You were still covered in blood, you still saw the horrible image of one of your students being killed in front of you.

Where was Aaron?

“Can I go and clean up?” You sniffled, asking the sheriff who was sitting at his desk beside you.

“Course sweetheart,” she smiled softly. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, if you want a shower there’s one in the training centre.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling smaller than you ever had. You were told to be careful with your stitches and that you’d be brought into the hospital in the morning once all of the stuff with the station was over. You walked down the hall to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, staring at your bloodstained face and clothes. The tears started falling, going down the drain with a red-tinge.

You grabbed some tissue, wet it, and started scrubbing your face. The ache of your body was nothing to the turmoil in your head. Was it your fault one of your students was killed? Was Jack ok? Was Aaron ok?

You didn’t even notice him coming behind you until he took the tissue out of your hand. He discarded it, damped the towel from his go-bag in his hand, lightly washing your face. Tears fell freely as he did so, but he wiped them away, a comforting hand on your lower back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clean cheek. He continued his gentle cleaning, bringing it down to your neck.

“I’m sorry too.”

He smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“Neither do you, but we do it anyway.”

His emotions became too much all of a sudden, the feeling of nearly losing you becoming unthinkable.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

After Aaron sufficiently cleaned as much of the blood off of you as he could, he took your blood-stained shirt off and replaced it with one of his extra dress shirts. Walking outside the bathroom, you felt eyes on the both of you. You recognised some of the team from stories and photos Aaron had shown you. They stared as Aaron wrapped you into his side and walked you back into the sheriff’s office.

“I want the kids,” you admitted. “I know we shouldn’t but I’m so worried that they're not ok,” you cried into his bicep as he sat beside you.

“I’ll send one of the team to grab them and Jess,” he nodded.

“Please don’t leave,” you whimpered, holding onto him for dear life. You needed him.

“Of course not, honey,” he soothed. He signalled for Derek to come in. He walked in, careful of your feelings. “Will you go to Jessica’s house and pick up Jessica, Jack, and Ellie?”

“Of course sir, but… who’s Ellie?” he whispered the last part.

“My daughter,” Aaron said and Derek went wide-eyed.

“I’ll be right back with them,” he promised.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Darling, do you feel up to telling me about it? Or even just something?" he whispered against your skin.

"I know who did it," you whispered back. You felt such guilt. You knew the unsub, he was one of your students Andrew. Andrew was obsessed with you, with your life, but you just took it as a student being interested in your life to get out of work. You didn't pay enough care to the way his interest dampened when you spoke about Aaron and when you talked about your anniversaries or dates.

"Honey-"

"His name's Andrew. He's in my chemical sciences class."

Aaron was silent for a moment. "Alright. I'll send officers his way."

"I'm so stupid, I didn't even realise-" you started but Aaron shushed you with a gentle kiss.

"Don't talk about my wife like that," he joked. You chuckled softly and he felt a sense of great accomplishment.

"I'm so glad you're here," you sighed into his neck.

"I'm so glad I'm here too."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're married?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Aaron admitted as he ran a hand through your hair as you lay on his lap asleep, Ellie and Jack playing by the sheriff's desk.

`'And you have another child," Penelope said, shock apparent in her voice and facial expression.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Spencer asked.

"I wanted to keep her safe," Aaron smiled. "I also just assumed you'd figure it out. Clearly you're not all as good as you think you are," he chuckled.

The team collectively rolled their eyes, but still smiled. Aaron was happy, you were safe, another unsub was awaiting jail, and they could almost feel the love radiating off of Aaron.

All was well.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

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solar-wing · 3 days

Text

⚣ Dick Grayson: NSFW Alphabet 🔵

⚣🔵 Words → 3.5k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 🔵

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Caring and attentive. In other words, cling as hell.

It’s amazing how someone who was just fucking you like an absolute slut could turn into the world’s most innocent and soft boy in existence. When you think about it, it’s actually a little bit disturbing as well.

But, I digress. Dick will absolutely pick you up and carry you into the shower or whatever you desire. He’s also perfectly fine with lying in the mess. He doesn’t care as long as he gets to cuddle you right after.

He will have an overwhelming smug attitude though, especially if the sex was preceded by an argument, disagreement, or the acrobat just wanted to teach you a lesson. He can be a little shit when he wants to be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I feel like we all know the answer to this one.

Dick’s butt is praised so much, that you already know he puts extra time and care into making sure it stays nice, right, and tight. He not so secretly loves when you play with it as well, whether it’s a light slap or pressing up against him even though he’s always the top. Notable mentions: His chest, abs, and thighs.

If you assumed his favorite body part on you was your ass, you’d guess right. Congratulations! You win nothing except a hard and playful smack on said ass from the acrobat. You’re welcome! Honorable mentions: Your waist, thighs, and chest. His weakness is any kind of jiggle and he is not ashamed or afraid of getting caught staring.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He may not play basketball but he’s a shooter (kill me). He can pretty much cover you anywhere or reach your furthest depths inside (careful if it’s M-Preg or he’ll definitely be the father).

He’s equal with where he likes to cum. He likes to sum on your face, chest, and body just as much as he loves to shoot down your throat and inside your hole. And the filthy little acrobat will definitely lick your cum off his hand after stroking you to your own finish. Let’s be clear now, this man has no shame.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dick’s got a body count. Not as high as Bruce’s maybe but it’s up there. He can play innocent all he wants, but that man can and will get down when he’s feeling it.

Which, speaking of, he has definitely used Nightwing to land him some ass. No, I will not be taking questions.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Again, he doesn’t exactly have the title of a playboy like his adoptive father, but Dick’s been around the block. So he definitely knows a thing or two when it comes to the down and dirty.

Even if you are experienced yourself, I can guarantee Dick knows some tricks you don’t know which will have you, well…let’s save that for the bedroom, shall we?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Face down, ass up, and no that was not a suggestion. Dick absolutely favors any position where your ass is bouncing in his face. Doggy, reverse cowgirl, spooning, standing behind, anything.

He also loves a good 69 moment and enjoys the missionary positions where he can really put in some power while inside you. You on the bed and him standing, countertop, or a stand-carry.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If you know Dick’s personality, while the boy can be an absolute menace in the bedroom, he’s still a goofball at heart. Also, known for his witty banter, you can expect some wild stuff to come out that man’s mouth while he’s cumming to yours (tee hee).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dick is definitely well-groomed. He used to be a performer so he always took extreme care of his appearance. Keeps himself shaven and clean-cut, which definitely makes him appear bigger, as well as keeping those areas down there fresh and ready for any kind of play.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dick is a romantic at heart. As much as he can be a little dominant shit in the bedroom, he’s always down for some soft love and intimate moments.

Candles, roses, food, massages with kisses down your body, maybe a little romantic dance before you get sweaty. You name it, Dick’s already thought of it and is thinking of more. Just as much as he wants to please you sexually, intimacy and romance never is off the table.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dick is probably the most sexually active just behind Bruce, so you can definitely imagine that boy is no stranger to an evening alone with just him and his hand. Just as much as he knows how to please others, he knows how to please himself.

He knows when he’s in the mood to drag it out and edge himself while imagining or watching some slow, soft dirty dancing, and he knows when he’s frustrated and just needs to rub one out to get the edge off a little bit. Again, you won’t find many things in that realm that Dick has not either already tried or even just learned about.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Role-Playing: Once again, I bring up the fact that Dick is a retired performer. You know he’s one for the dramatics and theatrics, especially when it comes to sex. Whether it’s Nightwing coming to the rescue of some helpless dude, or instead that same person being abducted and forced to serve Nightwing to earn his freedom, nothing is off the table. And yes, as I just implied, that included CNC (Consensual-Non-Consensual). He’d never push you too far (unless variable circumstances apply), but he’s down to play any role. He’s the cop and you’re the guilty criminal he’s just arrested. You’re his student and desperately need a passing grade to graduate.

BDSM: He’s not too much into the lifestyle, but he definitely dabbles. He likes certain aspects of it, specifically the bondage, Dom/Sub roles, and getting to inflict punishments (his favorite being spanking cause it means he gets to play with your ass more). This also helps a lot with this abducted, helpless victim role-play when he gets to pull out the cuffs, rope, blindfolds, gags, and whatever else he’s got lying around. And he’s not opposed to the roles being reversed.

Dirty Talk: The guy is all about using his words remember. Self-explanatory.

Public Play (Exhibitionism): Dick’s not a sex addict, but he might as well be one with the way that man will drop his pants without a second thought, no matter where he is. Of course, he’s not just going to outright start doing it in front of others, but the thrill of pulling you into a dark corner, alleyway, restroom and the risk of you getting caught will always get him excited. Double points if you actually do get caught, because again, this man has no shame.

Honorable Mentions: Edge Play (choking/breath play), Impact Play (sub of BDSM, spanking, paddling, etc), Wrestling, Daddy kink, Mirror Sex, etc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As we just went over, public places really get Dick going. Especially if he’s out as Nightwing and wants to pull you into a random alley or bring you to some high-up rooftop, he will happily christen a surface that is not within the confines of his own house or private dwelling, and he won’t feel bad about it.

Other specific places?

The shower, any counter or table surface, the Batmobile, his motorbike, literally anywhere in his apartment, etc.

He really has no reservations about where he does it, as long as he can get up in you, he’s content.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

#1 – He’s a horny bastard: Again, he’s not a sex addict, but he sure has the sex drive of one. It doesn’t take much to get him turned on. A casual, suggestive sentence, the way your shorts are really highlighting your work in the gym, how you're sucking on the straw while sipping your drink, or even when you’re just standing or sitting doing nothing, that man will get hard and he will pounce on you.

#2 – Domestic Actions/Life: This is something I forgot to mention with Jason so I’ll mention it here because I’m definitely head-canoning that they both share this in common. Any kind of domestic act. You cook him dinner when he comes home or pack his lunch before he heads out for the day. Helping clean up his house or doing his laundry and folding his clothes. Running him a bath, washing his hair, giving him a massage after a hard day or night. Waiting up for him in bed after patrol and patting the space once he changes out of his uniform, laying down and letting him vent about anything on his mind while you rub his body or head. All of it and more will definitely have him up and ready for fun.

#3 – Jealousy: Now, you may think I mean when someone flirts with you and he gets all macho and protective, rah rah rah. Nope, not at all (unless we’re talking Alpha Dick in Omegaverse. Then, that’s different because, by the rule, it’s a part of his biology to be). Dick is actually quite casual and will find it humorous when someone tries to even think about flirting with you in hopes of stealing you away from him. He knows his worth, and even more, he knows how good his dick is. He’s not worried. But, when it’s the opposite, and someone flirts with him because again, this man is literally one of the most attractive beings probably in the entire world, he absolutely will be turned on at the sight of you staking your claim on him, chasing off any hag dared flirt with him in front of you.

Honorable Mentions: Arguing/Make-Up Sex, Clothing, exercising, any kind of physical touch.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Nothing that could involve serious injury or blood. Also, nothing even remotely unsanitary. I mean scat/throw-up/piss.

Also, he may be into very public displays of affection but do not get it twisted one bit. Dick is not into any type of sharing. He’s a sweetie at heart, but don’t piss him off with that ridiculous idea.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dick is the goat of throat. Yeah, I said it…what you gon do? Beat my ass or something?

Just kidding, but no seriously, this man has a reputation known among his sexual partners for the danger to society that is his mouth, and not when it’s giving off a witty/sarcastic remark. He’s been known to drive some people to the brink of insanity, metaphorically speaking of course. But, then again, you never know with these people.

He loves to receive head and loves to give it even more. Especially when he gets to play with your balls and deny your orgasm every time you reach the edge, the little bastard. Same can be said if he’s munching on that hole too, which he eagerly does cause the sight of it puckering and winking at him sends all the little happy flutters to his own groin.

Now, if we’re talking again about receiving, and you think you’re gonna have him putty in your hand like he does with you, think again. This man is the definition of a seasoned veteran. There’s only been one known time he’s ever gotten overwhelmed and came from just head, and that was when he was a teenager. If you’re hoping to do that now, you’d better have expert-level skills, cause he will test you. Facefucking, choking and gagging, and whatever else that comes to mind.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

High off adrenaline after an intense patrol or fight? Congratulations, you’re about to be his next victim. You got jealous and cussed out someone for trying to flirt with him? Prepare to learn a whole new meaning of getting rough sex. Wore some 3 in shorts to the gym AND did a leg day? Gon head and bend that ass over, you’re about to experience why he’s called ‘Dick’ rather than ‘Rich’ or something else for a nickname. Please cancel any plans you have for that evening or the next day cause you may not be able to walk, stand, or even move for that manner.

On the opposite side, did you take his Nightwing suit and hand wash it, making it look like the day he first put it on? Sweet lord, you’re a treasure and he’s about to show you why. It’s your anniversary and you got him one of the most beautiful and sentimental gifts? You and your body are about to be treated like an award that he is the sole recipient of. You cussed out Bruce after he did something stupid and reckless again involving Dick or one of the others? Not only is Jason blessing the ground you walk on, Dick’s about to drop down on one knee and propose, and then proceed to treat your body like a slut in the most romantic and sensual way you could ever imagine. As a precaution, still, go ahead and cancel any future plans just in case.

Dick truly has no preference other than whatever he’s feeling at the moment. Long, deep strokes, or quick, fast juts? Whatever gets the job done and reminds you there’s nobody better than him is good in his book.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dick loves quickies. As chaotic and busy as his life is, he practically lives off them and craves them.

Again, this man should have his headshot in the dictionary next to ‘horny’ or promiscuous. Cause if it was up to him? He’d be screwing you once every 2 hours at least. Whether it’s a quick handjob he’s giving you, or he’s got both your pants down while rapidly fucking into you cause he’s only got five minutes before he has to get back, he’s doing it.

The man thinks they should be protected and enshrined into law. That’s how much he loves them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try anything and everything under the sun and moon as long as it’s not one of his already-mentioned no-no’s. If it adds excitement to the routine, why not? You never know with that man.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Very adamant stamina. His plentiful experiences have shaped it, and his physical training and endurance have added to it.

That man can do multiple rounds in a night, ranging anywhere from 3-5, and maybe even more if just that kind of night. He also knows his body, and can/will do what he needs to do to drag one round out for as long as he can until not only is he satisfied himself, but he feels he’s adequately satisfied you. And to be clear, you have absolutely no say on whether he feels like he’s satisfied you or not.

So please, get used to the idea of being overstimulated and crying at the 3rd or 4th orgasm he gives you before he’s even had one. It’ll save you a lot of frustration (not really but you get what I mean).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dick, who again, will and has tried everything under the moon and sun. Of course, he has toys. What do you think this is? A playground? Please…

And trust, he’s going to get more. He’s probably signed up on a loyalty program with a sex store or website, and best believe he’s got diamond status.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A prayer for the innocent soul who unknowingly awakens the playful, petty, and vindictive part of Dick Grayson’s personality, especially when it comes to sex. May god, the universe, karma, whatever else have mercy on your soul and may the odds ever be in your favor.

There’s a reason I call Dick Grayson a little shit, bastard, fucker, and other various names because that is literally what he is, and I love him the more for it. He doesn’t get angry, upset, or even mad (unless it’s something serious). No, he gets petty, and that turns into him being the most teasing piece of shit in the bedroom, especially if you’ve challenged him in some kind of way.

Orgasm denial, forcing you to be quiet and stay still, sensory overload, multiple orgasms, and overstimulation; all this and he hasn’t even put his tongue on you yet, let alone his dick anywhere near you. That man is vindictive and will play on it until his heart’s content. Please, tread carefully when choosing whether or not you want to fuck with this man, especially if he’s in a mood.

Matter of fact, just run. Actually, don’t do that either. He likes the chase. FUCK! You’re screwed no matter what (metaphorically AND literally).

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dick gets loud. And he wants you to get equally as loud with him.

He’s not afraid to let out the sluttiest sounds, from soft and quiet moans to loud and debauched shouts from the top of his lungs. He can be quiet if need be, but he’d rather not. He enjoys the idea of people knowing he’s getting lucky and, even more, the idea of people knowing you’re getting lucky from him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

That man has an obsession with doing it in his Nightwing suit. You think he picked that style and aesthetic for something as useless as flexibility, quick movement, and durability? Absolutely not.

Dick absolutely knew what he was doing when he had his suit designed. He wanted to look like a slut and nothing more, and that's okay! I mean, come on, you think his ass looking that good in his uniform was a coincidence? A mistake? How innocent and naive of you.

Everyone should have known Dick’s true intentions when they saw how sinfully deep the cut was in his first suit that we all know and love as Discowing. That man fully intended for his suit to be something he could fuck up and fuck dudes in while looking hot. It was non-negotiable.

Look at him.

Like, I'm sorry, but what the hell do you mean I’m not supposed to be turned on and have my legs divorcing like a whore who's being prosecuted in a court of law due to adulterous behavior with this standing in front of me? Are you unwell?!?!?

Yeah, respectfully no. I will forever headcanon that Dick Grayson knew exactly what he was doing when he had his suits designed, and it was the complete opposite of what everyone was saying.

“Dick is quick and agile."

"He’s lightweight on his feet."

"He needs a suit that will support and accentuate his acrobatic skills.”

Absolutely not. That man is (respectfully in an empowering context) a slut, on the inside and out, and he wanted a suit that would best show it to the world. I will not be gaslit into believing otherwise.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

What Dick lacks in girth, he makes up for in length and skill. He’s definitely not thin, but he's a little under-average when it comes to thickness. Somewhere between 6-7 inches.

More than likely cut, and has a voluptuous head that’s perfect for sucking on and teasing.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

We’ve discussed this in great length, multiple times. It’s self-explanatory at this point. The man is basically the human equivalent of a rabbit or bunny.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dick can stay up long after the round has been up, especially if he’s in a mood where he wants to talk. Ironically, after fucking like some wild animals with the most questionable mindsets and morals, he loves to shoot the shit and have pillow talk after.

I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but Dick is basically a chatterbox and will ask you about your day, what you had for lunch, who pissed you off at work, and more while still buried inside of your ass with your dick pressed between both your stomachs. He’s also content with turning on the TV or whatever screen is available and watching a movie or something until you both fall asleep. Mind you, he’s probably still inside you and is going to try his best to stay inside even if he’s gone soft and keeps slipping out.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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emmasbrain · 3 days

Text

Miscommunication (the fun kind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption? i think that’s all, nothing NSFW in this one

Synopsis: Your good friend Penelope sees you in a bar and begs you to sit with her and her work friends. You realise you like one. She also realises you like one. She however, thinks you like the wrong one.

The moment Penelope spotted you, she gasped. “Oh my god!” You spun round on your seat on the bar towards her running over to you in unrunnable heels, a brilliant smile gracing her face and a surprised one falling to yours as you saw each other.

“Penelope?” You hopped off your bar stool and pulled her into a hug. “It’s been too long darlin’. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in years.” You gushed, definitely over exaggerating your circumstances.

“Didn’t we go for coffee last Thursday?” She giggles, and you see the familiar glint in her eye that she only got after a couple of margaritas.

“Like I said, years!” You giggled right back, and she held your hands, leaning in towards you more.

“Who are you here with?” She questioned, looking around.

You shrugged casually, “I came with some girls from work, but they all left with guys and I decided to drink my loneliness away… Except I haven’t actually had a drink yet because I’ve been sitting here debating whether I really want to drink alone.” Your words, though holding a little weight, came out with a laugh and a self deprecating sigh.

Penelope gave you a look, and you knew she was brewing something. “What if… you come sit with us?” Before you can ask questions or protest, she continues, “You know I’ve always wanted to introduce you to the team, which is who I’m here with, and it would be good for you too ‘cus it means you can drink not on your own.” She gives you puppy dog eyes, and clasps her hands together waiting for your answer.

You relent, deciding the sooner you had an interaction with her FBI friends the sooner it was over. You had heard some things, and they seemed lovely, but they were her friends and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be very welcome with your job as a journalist. “Okay fine, but you can’t mention my job. I don’t want them to hate me on the first impression.”

“It’s okay they know, I told them ages ago about what you do. Alright you stay here, I’ll go tell them and then I can introduce you.” She was practically buzzing, so excited you could see it in the air around her. She shuffled away happily, and came back to drag you over a moment later.

As you approached the group, she introduced you in order of where they sat around the table. “That’s JJ, Derek, David, Hotch, Emily, and Spencer. Everybody, this is my friend Y/N.” She smiles all big and goofy and then scrunches up her face in disappointment. “There’s no chairs left.”

You take this as an opportunity. “Well, I suppose that means I should g-“

“Here, you can have mine. I’ll grab one from over there.” Spencer quickly finds a solution, standing to walk over to an unused table and fetch another chair. You follow him with your eyes as he lifts it over. Doctor Spencer Reid. Penelope had mentioned the man on multiple occasions. Ever the problem solver, you gathered from her ramblings on the things he would do and say.

Penelope sits in the chair between JJ and Derek, and the latter lets his arm rest on Penelope’s shoulders. As you sit down in Spencer’s sacrificed chair, he pulls another one in between you and JJ, and you both awkwardly smile at each other before you look down to your hands in your lap. “Thank you.” You whisper to him.

“What for?” He whispers back.

“The chair.” You mumble, and he nods.

“It’s no problem.”

“Okay, I say we get some drinks. How bout it, pretty girl?” Derek's words snap you from your awkwardness, and you smile, realising he’s given you a nickname already.

“I am in dire need of a beer.” You reply, and Emily looks at you from your right.

“Beer, huh? I woulda coined you for a vodka redbull kinda girl. All for the thrills.” She looks at you with a smirk and you shake your head with a giggle.

“I’m normally a whiskey kinda girl actually, I get that from my parents. I only very rarely drink vodka, it just makes me want to make out with people.” The embarrassment soaks in the moment the words come out of your mouth and you realise you’ve just told a group of behavioural analysts that vodka makes you horny.

“Alcohol oftentimes does have the effect of making you sexually confident and can heighten feelings of affection and make you more open to try things sexually. One could assume that your specific set of hormones are just more affected by the chemicals in vodka in comparison to other alcohols.” Spencer pulls his lips into a straight line, and you giggle at his readily available information. Penelope wasn’t joking.

“Thanks, Doc.” You bump his shoulder, and he looks a little confused but mumbles a “No problem” anyway. As he looks away towards Derek and Penelope, you take the chance to study his features discreetly. The angle of his jaw perfectly contrasts the softness of his eyes, the honey brown colour almost sparkling within the dim lighting of the bar. His cheeks are tinged pink from the currently inaudible teasing from Derek, and there’s a little smile on his lips that you could almost envision yourself kissing.

Derek breaks you out of your head a second time. “Hey pretty girl, you wanna go get those drinks now?” He flashes you a grin and you smile, nodding.

“Yea let’s do it. Does everyone know what they want?” As you’re trying to split everyone’s orders between you and Derek, Penelope gives you a look that says “do you have the hots for my friend?” and you give her a look back that says “maybe..” she gasps and the whole table turns to look at her, making her realise that she’d turned the conversation into an out loud one now.

“You know what? Us girls can handle those drinks, Derek. Why don’t you have a seat.” She drags you up to the bar and orders quickly before she forgets, and then whips round to face you.

“You like him. I saw it on your face. You like him!!” She whisper shouts and you glance back to Derek and Spencer hunched over the table chatting. You smile.

“Look at him! Of course I like him, who wouldn’t like him? He’s simultaneously cute and hot and I swear men aren’t supposed to work like that.” You whisper shout back at her, and her smiles sadly.

“I wish I could set you up, but he’s taken. And his girlfriend is amazing so I can’t even be mad about it.” She sighs, and you slightly deflate.

“Oh man, I can’t believe the first time in years that I actually want a guy he’s taken. Just my luck, I suppose.” You laugh, and grab the drinks that have been sat on the bar. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” You shrug your shoulders and head back over to the table with her, handing everyone their drinks and sitting back next to Spencer to sip your own.

After an hour or so, conversation was going a tad dry, and you decided to use an old icebreaker your college roommate had taught you to get things flowing again. “Okay, one after the other I want everyone to tell the group something embarrassing. It can be anything, as long as it’s about you.” Everyone nods in agreement, and Derek starts.

“There was this one time I was flirting with a girl while I was out with my mom. Now that was my first mistake, my mom comes over and starts talkin to this girl askin if she’s my girlfriend. I said momma I’ve only just met her, and she said ‘well then you better hurry up, this girl is far too beautiful for you to pass up’. Before I could even speak, the girl says ‘I think you’re too beautiful to pass up’. She was talkin to my mom! And I just thought hey maybe she’s just tryna get on moms good side, you know? You win over mom, you win over me. But then she spent 10 minutes flirting with my mother until I had to drag her away. My mom will not stop bringing it up just to mock me.”

Spencer cracked up beside you at the story, and you couldn't help laughing a little with him.

Penelope pipes in, “Tell them when this happened.” He grimaces.

“Last year.” He barely says it loud enough to hear, but you all catch it and it sends you all into a fit of laughter.

Rossi reminisces about the time he proposed to one of his ex wives, and she said no. In public. Then later in the day said yes, telling him she just wanted to embarrass him the way his public proposal had embarrassed her.

Hotch talks of the time he finished work early and decided to pick up Jack from school. The teacher had asked him if he was Jack’s grandfather, and he had to explain that he most definitely was not.

“I once hugged my friend from behind to tell her goodbye at a party. It wasn’t my friend.” Is all Emily gives for details. She grimaces at the sheer memory of it, and you can’t help the little smile that graces your lips.

“My turn then?” You question the group, and they nod. “I probably should’ve used this time to think of what I was gonna say. Well I suppose I’ll use the only one that’s currently present in my mind,” You turn to face Spencer, “I was gonna ask you out before Penelope had to drag me away and tell me you were taken. Which was slightly embarrassing for me in the moment, but as I’m saying this I realise I’ve just embarrassed myself even more.” You nod through your internal pain at how stupid you felt, and took a deep breath before trying to move on. Spencer looked too taken aback to let that happen.

“You were gonna ask me out? And Penelope told you I was in a relationship? Why would she do that?” He looks plain confused now, and you mirror his expression.

“I never told you Spencer was in a relationship. I told you Derek was in a relationship, because I thought he was the friend you said you liked! Wait. So when you said he was hot you meant Spencer?” Now even Penelope looked confused, although not exactly for the same reason you were.

“Yes! Of course I meant Spencer! No offence Derek, you’re lovely but you’re not my type.” You rushed, giving him a sheepish smile.

“And I am?” Spencer speaks again.

“Pretty much yea.” The smile he gives you at your words makes you look away nervously.

“So what you mean is that if you hadn’t been told I was taken I could have went on a date with you?” He’s looking inquisitively at your face now, tracing for signs of a lie as he waits for you to respond.

“You still could go on a date with me.” You suggest, with a little shrug and a smile that reaches your eyes.

“I’d like that.” He nods, slightly enthusiastic but trying to play it cool.

“Me too.” You nod with him. “I should probably be heading home, I have work I still need to catch up on. But I could give you my number and you could take me to your favourite place or something. Somewhere I can get to know you just from looking around.” You suggest, gathering your things and scribbling your number down on a spare napkin.

“That sounds good- great. That sounds great.” His eyes are filled with a mixture of excitement and something else you’re not sure about, but the look on his face makes you smile.

“Call me then.” You nod finally, getting up to leave. You give everyone their goodbyes, hugging them all lightly and giving Spencer a little wave.

Over the next few days the anticipation of his call is almost overwhelming. And when your phone begins to ring, an unfamiliar number popping up on the screen, you bite your nail before clicking the answer button. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

A/N: I don’t actually really like this, but it’s fine. I wanna do a part two, someone tell me to do a part two plsplsplspls. (May rewrite this once i’m not jet lagged and cramming it between studying but idk)

#doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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bbydoll18xx · 14 hours

Text

Plotting and Scheming

Paige Bueckers x reader

When UConn’s wbb team gets tired of Paige’s pining, they concoct a plan to get you into her arms.

Themes: Mutual pining, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 3.3k

I've gotten a lot of love on my other three little fics, so I hope this one is okay, as well. Let me know if you guys have anything specific you'd like me to write!

Here we go!

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

You sat on the sidelines of UConn’s basketball court, admiring the girls fiercely practicing. It was still early in the season, but the dream of winning the NCAA championship kept their grit going.

Having met several of the girls on the team early in your college career, the women’s basketball team had adopted you as one of their own. As a nursing student, you were deemed ‘the fixer of boo-boos’ and you were often around to tend to their cuts and scrapes or to answer their ridiculous medical questions.

That’s where it had all started, and you couldn’t believe where you had ended up because of it.

Your eyes bounced back and forth, following the balls and the whipping ponytails. You always felt so much pride watching them; they were your girls.

Your gaze finds Paige, as it always tends to, and you are mesmerized. She runs, throwing the ball from half count and making it into the basket effortlessly. Without thinking, you stand up, whooping and clapping rambunctiously. She makes eye contact with you, sending you a wink and blowing you a kiss dramatically. Your stomach lurches at the display of affection towards you, and you blush, causing you to glance around making sure no one saw.

Your feelings for the tall blonde had only grown as you got to know her throughout the last several years. She made you feel giddy, like a child with a school crush. As much as you enjoyed being her friend, you had wanted something more for a long time now.

You’d never admit that though. To anyone.

The other girls had spent countless hours trying to get you to admit your feelings for Paige. You held firm, though, vehemently denying any pull or attraction. They would over analyze every interaction between the two of you, and they loved the way your cheeks would bloom with pink from Paige’s compliments and affections.

In fact, they were absolutely sure that the reason you broke up with your douchebag ex-boyfriend, Zach, was because of your feelings for Paige.

They did not need to know that was actually the case, thank you very much.

It had been on the forefront of your thoughts for weeks before the night where everything had finally exploded.

You had dragged Zach along to the bar where the basketball team was partying it up, hoping your man would distract you from the longingness you felt for your friend. You felt such a pull towards Paige, and it fucking terrified you.

You had walked into the bar with Zach, his hand around your waist possessively. The touch reminded you of the last time you and Paige had gone out drinking together. Trying to ignore how you wished it was slimmer and more feminine, you had allowed Zach to lead you towards where the team had gathered in a circle.

The girls cheered as they saw you approach, thrusting a drink into your hand, encouraging you to catch up to their drunkenness. You glanced around, trying to find Paige in the crowd.

“Well look who it is,” you heard from behind you. Whipping your head around, you were met with the familiar smirk of your favorite blonde.

“Paige!” you exclaimed, running up to give her a hug, eliciting an eye roll from your boyfriend. You pretended you didn’t see it to keep the peace. You melted into Paige’s embrace, feeling more comfortable in the moment than you had in days.

“K, Bueckers, you can get your grimy hands off my fuckin’ girlfriend,” Zach had sniped, walking away. Pretending as if the man did not even exist, Paige had looked down at you with a wide grin. It was getting harder to overlook her effect on both you and your relationship.

The rudeness and nastiness directed at Paige had immediately sent you over the edge.

‘How fucking dare he talk to my girl like that,’ you had thought.

In a sudden fury, you stomped over to him, already busy staring lewdly at some girl who was dancing provocatively in front of him.

“You can fuck off. Paige can put her hands on me any time she’d like. We’re through. Kiss my ass!” you spat. You spun on your heel and marched back towards the team feeling lighter than you had in months.

“Let's do shots!” you screamed, missing the fond look Paige was giving you.

You snap out of your daydream as you see Paige sauntering over to you where you sat in the bleachers.

“Enjoying the show, huh?” she questions smugly.

Feeling generous, you nod with a genuine smile. “You guys are doing so great already. You’re gonna go far this season; I can feel it.” The candor of your words causes Paige to beam.

“Listen, we’re all getting drinks tonight at Ted’s. You gonna come with us?”

“Oh I don't know, I've got homework and stuff…” you trail off, trying to find a suitable excuse.

Paige all but pouts. “The girls really want you there. They all told me,” she says knowingly. As if she had planned it, Azzi, KK, and Nika walk over to join you two, all sweaty from practice.

KK all but jumps on you, causing you to groan under the sudden weight of her body being thrown against you.

“Y’all, please convince this one over here to join us tonight,” Paige pleads, turning back toward you with wide eyes.

You giggle as the girls all jump in, interrupting each other in an attempt to persuade you to come out with them.

You cut them off, trying to stop the cacophony that was echoing off the walls of the gym.

“I would love to come, but I really have a lot of work to catch up on,” you reason. “If I finish up early, I’ll text you, Paige.”

Paige nods at this, but you don’t miss the glum look that flits across her face. You sigh half-heartedly, suddenly feeling guilty. You hated making excuses. It was just so hard sometimes, liking her.

“Have fun, guys,” you wave before making your exit from the arena.

As you walk back to your dorm, you feel the pit in your stomach grow larger, enveloping you. Of course you wanted to spend time with Paige, but pining mixed with alcohol and the sensual music of a bar would cause cracks in the hard foundation of your skillful indifference.

You had been perfecting it since freshman year, but with the way Paige had you feeling lately, you knew it wouldn’t take much for everything to come crashing down.

Walking through your door and sitting at your computer, you get to work, trying to distract yourself. After reviewing your notes for the tenth time and finishing your nursing care plan, you glance at the clock.

Fuck.

It was only 10:30. The girls would probably just be arriving at the bar now, and you really wanted to go meet up with them.

‘Screw it,” you think. You are going to get drunk tonight, and you’re gonna look hot. You whip out your phone and send a quick text to Paige. Your heart races as she instantly responds. You needed to get your shit in order. Your emotions could not get the best of you tonight.

Over at Ted’s, Paige’s bored expression had quickly turned into an excited grin, causing her teammates to exchange looks of interest.

“What’s got you smiling like that, P?” asks Nika.

“More like who,” smirks KK, glancing at Paige’s phone at your text.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Paige grumbles, trying to hide her blush with her drink.

“Oh c’mon, Paige, this crush is getting ridiculous. Just tell the damn girl you like her,” Azzi demands. “We’re all getting tired of watching you pine over her.”

“Pine?” sputters Paige. “I’m hardly pining. If anything, I’m just admiring…” she trails off.

“Sure, P,” KK drawls sarcastically. “Nothing like admiring your friend’s ass.”

The other girls snort derisively. KK was not at all off base with that observation.

“Whatever, I need another drink,” grumbles Paige. “Gotta be drunk when my friend shows up.”

Paige walks off, and the second her teammates lose sight of her, they circle up to discuss.

“Jesus, we really need to do something to fix this shit,” Ice says firmly.

“For real, this is straight embarrassing now!” KK agrees loudly.

Azzi contemplates for a second, before a smirk slides onto her face. “I know what we can do. The only way to get Paige to make a move is to make her super jealous. We can all take turns flirting, and boom! We’ll have two happy lovebirds before we even know it!”

The ploy causes the other girls to laugh hysterically, reveling in the idea of a jealous Paige.

“Sounds perfect!” Nika laughs. “Paige is gonna hate us, but she will be fine once she finally admits her feelings.”

The rest of the girls agree, sipping their drinks and taking great pleasure in what would be coming.

About an hour later, you walk into the bar feeling incredibly anxious. You were confident in the way you looked; tight jeans with rips that allowed the smooth flesh of your upper thigh to peak out, and a top that showed off your curves deliciously. Lips glossy and hair blown out, you were alluring, wanting all eyes on you tonight. You figured if you got hit on enough, you could distract yourself from Paige’s enticement. Little did you know it’d be at the hands of her own teammates.

You stretched your neck, scouring the bar for the basketball team. Considering their height, they were easy to spot. Flouncing over, you are greeted with the loud, drunken cheers of your favorite girls.

You giggle at their enthusiasm, suddenly feeling more at ease. You look around, trying to spot the long blonde hair and the wide smile that constantly occupies your consciousness.

“Where’s P?” you ask casually, trying to avoid any suspicion. This causes the faces of the aforementioned teammates to exchange sly glances that immediately have you worried.

“Oh, she's just over by the bar talking to some brunette,” Nika responds, attempting to gauge your reaction. Luckily, you had been training for this over the last several years.

Did it fucking hurt? Sure, it was like you were being stabbed repeatedly with a fucking knife, but no biggie. You could handle it.

“Cool,” you mumble, staying aloof. “I’m gonna grab a drink...”

Your reaction causes the girls to hoot with laughter once you’re out of reach.

“This is so mean. I feel bad,” mutters Caroline. “I thought we were only going to make Paige jealous…”

“It’s more fun this way. It’s like a secret mission!” KK exclaims. “Getting both of them jealous is fuckin’ perfect.”

As you walk over to the bar, you see Paige talking to a girl. She is smiling in a way that had your stomach doing somersaults, and your face screws up into a look of annoyance. Attempting to ignore the obnoxious giggles of the girl Paige was wooing, you flag down the bartender and order a double of your favorite drink. Lord knows you would need the extra alcohol tonight.

You look around apprehensively, trying to move time forward with your brain. Your sobriety, in addition to the crammed bar, had you feeling panicked. You needed to get away from Paige before you combusted from jealousy.

Thanking the bartender, who finally slides your drink towards you, you head back to the basketball team, eventually catching Paige's attention.

Pretending you didn’t see your blonde best friend, you bring your straw to your lips in a seductive manner, catching it with your tongue and relishing in the way the alcohol begins to cloud your inhibitions.

Paige trails behind you, desperately trying to avoid staring at your jean-clad ass.

KK doesn’t miss this. Neither does Ice. They share shit-eating grins, making mocking faces towards Paige, who flips them off in return, a look of embarrassment covering her face.

You finally turn around, giving up your bit of pretend indifference.

“Oh hey, P,” you say breezily. “Didn’t see you behind me.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi is already wrapping her free hand around your waist, bringing her closer to you. She says, “I missed you. C’mon, let’s go dance.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow, but Azzi is already leading you towards the brightly colored dance floor before she could respond to you.

“The fuck?” Paige mumbles under her breath as the rest of the team exchanges deranged giggles at her shock.

The truth was that Paige was terrible at sharing. Especially you. Even before she wanted anything more than a friendship with you, Paige slightly resented anyone who took away your time and attention from her.

The signs were so clear. So fucking clear.

Half of the girls follow you to the dance floor, leaving the others to stay with a pouting Paige. Her reaction to Azzi’s contact gives you the tiniest amount of hope, and it gives you a second wind of confidence.

You dance with the girls, slightly confused at their antics. You were close with all of them, but the touching and incessant compliments had your head spinning.

What the hell was going on?

Paige was usually the one clinging to you, wanting to make you blush and giggle. Tonight she was acting like a wounded puppy. Her face continuously flashing between a clenched jaw of annoyance and straight bitterness.

Your attempts to avoid looking at her were futile. This did not go unnoticed by the team, who looked like they were enjoying your longingness way too much.

You look up at Azzi, begging her with your eyes to tell you what was going on with Paige tonight.

“Why is she acting like this?” you ask no one in particular, just trying to deduce the weird energy that had accompanied the entire night. The girls shrug and avoid the question altogether, carrying on with their laughing and gyrating.

You sigh, exhausted from the game they were clearly playing. You needed more alcohol or it was going to be a rough night; you were too sober to deal with this.

“C’mon, shake those hips,” an evidently very drunk Nika, whispers in your ear with a smirk. She brings a hand down to rest on your waist, the other trailing down your back…lower and lower. You look at her, slightly shocked at the affection. Before Nika’s hand could even reach your ass, you feel yourself being ripped away from her by a swearing Paige.

“What the actual fuck, dude?” Paige all but yells at her Croatian teammate, her eyes wild with anger and her jaw clenched with an impressive amount of control.

Nika just laughs at Paige’s overreaction, along with every other girl on the team.

“What’s wrong, P?” Azzi asks with a mocking tone. “Pissed that someone other than you touched your girl?”

Paige’s voice falters as she responds, “she’s not my girl…just don’t want her to be uncomfortable or whatever…”

Hearing Azzi refer to you as Paige’s girl made your head spin. What the fuck does that mean?

Your head quickly bounces between a smirking Nika, an uncomfortable-looking Paige, and the rest of the team, who were trying and failing, to hold in their laughter.

“I’m confused…” you trail off in a quiet attempt to get some answers.

A few seconds of silence pass before KK breaks it. “Girl boo, just talk to Paige. And use protection.”

Excuse me, what?

The girls vacate the area, leaving you and the blonde staring at each other, both afraid to make the first move.

“Let’s walk back to my apartment. We can talk there,” Paige finally mutters.

You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Things felt vulnerable. Like one wrong move and everything would come crashing down into oblivion. You didn't want your relationship with Paige to be ruined; your one-sided crush already disrupting the delicate balance of it all.

The ten minute walk back to Paige’s felt like years. The air was heavy, constricting your entire being. You held back a sob as the dread seeped into your soul. You couldn’t let Paige see you cry; it was embarrassing enough knowing that she probably already knew of your feelings.

You would get through this. Just let her let you down easy and then you could escape.

As you mentally plan the funeral for your friendship, Paige reaches for your hand, cold from the bitter chill of the night. Your reflexes are quick, wanting to rip it away from her in an attempt to guard the tiniest bit of pride left in you, but you still.

Nevertheless, you wanted her. And even worse, you needed her. So you allow her to gently take your hand, interlacing your fingers and rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin soothingly.

It felt so intimate, and the tears in your eyes threatened to spill over your cheeks once more. You glance up, feeling relief as you spot the parking lot of the apartment building.

As you enter Paige’s room, you look around, trying to memorize everything that made up your friend. ‘This’ll probably be the last time I’ll be here,’ you think solemnly, gazing at the purple comforter thrown haphazardly over the unmade bed. No more giddy nights spent pressed against the blonde, praying she can’t feel the thumping of your heart as she cuddles you.

You sit on the bed warily, readying yourself for the rejection from your most favorite person in the entire world.

Paige can tell you’re anxious. You unconsciously pick at your fingernails, and your bottom lip is already swollen from being habitually bitten.

She sits beside you, placing a hand over yours again, as if she thinks it belongs there for some reason. In your version of the story, it did. Everything that was yours belonged to Paige.

“I have to tell you something. And I'm really not sure how you’ll react…” Paige trails off, hesitant of how to approach the situation. She clears her throat and continues, “I have feelings for you. I know you probably don’t feel the same, but it’s fine. And the girls knew tonight and were messin’ with me. They thought if they made me jealous enough, I’d do somethin’ about my feelings. And I guess they were kinda right.”

Upon hearing the long winded confession, your ears start ringing and your heart feels as if it might actually combust.

She has feelings for you?

You pinch your thigh, slightly wincing at the pain before your face slides into an elated grin. This was actually real.

She has feelings for you.

Paige searches your face for some sort of guess on how you were reacting to her maundering. With the alcohol still in your system and the shock of her words still reverberating through you, you could do nothing except launch yourself at her gorgeous mouth.

She squeals, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden movement before realizing that the pining she had been doing the last several years was in fact mutual.

Your lips collide, fuckin’ finally, in a kiss that could only be described as heavenly. It was passionate and slow, deliberately savoring the feel and taste of what had been only daydreams for a very long time.

Ultimately needing to break away for some air, you gaze at each other, reveling in the idea that the pain and heartbreak of years of pining and jealousy was no longer. It was peaceful. It made sense to you, though. Paige was your peace, and you were hers.

Laying down together, you whisper fondly, “I love your teammates so much. Even if their methods are a bit crazy, they really do mean well.”

Paige chuckles in reply. “We are so getting them back for that little stunt, though, right?”

“Of course,” you hum. “Two can play at that game.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending #friends to lovers #paige x reader #paige

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ktgoodmorning · 3 days

Text

Can't do this anymore

Mapi Leon x reader

You and Mapi are best friends and roommates but there always seems to be something else between you

(I adore Mapi and Ingrid but we’re gonna pretend she doesn’t exist for this)

Masterlist

“Wow, someone’s looking good. Hot date or what?” You rolled at Mapi as you entered your living area. Your roommate layed stretched out on the couch, where she often was, with a book in hand, peering over the top of it with a teasing smile on her face.

“Yeah, Patri’s trying to set me up with some girl she knows. I’m hoping that by agreeing to this one she’ll quit trying to do this all the time.” You weren’t exactly excited for this date, something made clear by your deadpan voice as you talked about it. You were the token single friend in your friend group and you were tired of all of them bugging you about it, constantly trying to set you up. You only agreed to this one in hopes of shutting them up, something that always proved to be difficult.

“I don’t get why you’re so afraid of talking to girls. You never know, maybe you could bring this one home with you and have some fun?” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “I can disappear for the night if you want?” Her sing-songy voice was a hallmark of her usual teasing towards you, both of you used to the fact that she was the one most likely to bring random girls home while you would panic the second a girl made eye contact.

Despite your differences, the two of you made the most perfect friends. You had lived together for a few years now, saving on rent while also enjoying each other’s company. You were more of a homebody, often appreciating her help in crosswords or sharing books with her while she was the one who got you out of the house, not allowing you to be too much of a homebody. You were the perfect duo and everybody knew it, being more comfortable with each other than with anyone else.

“Don’t count on it, Maria. I think it’s safe to say you don’t need to plan on disappearing. I’m just going to go have dinner with her and maybe grab some drinks if it goes well. That’s it.” You gave her a knowing look as you put your shoes on and got ready to leave.

“Keep an open mind, you never know, cari. I’m going out with the girls later but you can always give me a call if you need a ride or anything. I’m not drinking tonight so I’ll leave my phone on for you!” And with that, you left the house, off to meet your date.

Your date was fine. The girl was fine, the food was fine, the conversation was fine, it was all just fine. It wasn’t anything special. You didn’t know her at all, obviously, so you felt like the conversation was forced and unnatural. Something about it just left you feeling unsatisfied, seemingly having nothing in common with this girl and therefore nothing to talk about. You couldn’t quite decide what made Patri think it could work out between you but you were over it, your social battery depleted, opting to end the date early so you could go back to the comfort of your own home. Every one of these dates that your friends set you up on left you drained and even more anxious about the idea of ever finding a significant other.

When you trudged through your apartment door after not being gone for all that long, you weren’t surprised to find Mapi exactly where you left her on the couch. All she could see was the look of annoyance on your face as you slipped off your shoes and made your way to join her, dramatically flopping yourself onto the couch next to her. “I’m guessing the fact that you’re already home will tell me everything I need to know about how your date went?” Her eyebrows rose as she set her book down on her chest to look at you.

You shot her a glare in response, answering her question for her. The defender raised her hands up as if to surrender, “hey, don’t be getting mad at me, I’m on your side here.”

“Ugghhh, I know. I’m sorry.” you sat up to finally look at her. “I’m just tired of this shit.”

“Why don’t you come out with us tonight?”

“I don’t know, I’m tired and I-”

“Cari, listen to me. I think it could be good for you. You can stick with us the whole time, we won’t make you talk to any girls or tease you about it at all.” You scoffed at her words, knowing how unlikely it would be for that to happen.

“You’re gonna stick with me? Zorri, I guarantee you’ll have your tongue down some girl’s throat in the first ten minutes we’re there.” Her face feigned shock, seemingly offended at your words as you giggled, knowing you were right.

“Okay well maybe I won’t stick with you but Patri and Pina will!”

“I don’t know, Maps. You just wanna get laid, tonight. I can tell it’s been awhile cause of the stick you’ve had up your ass lately so I think I’ll sit this one out.” You burst out laughing, once again knowing you were right while she started smacking your shoulder. The two of you both broke into a mixture of giggling and hitting each other before trying your best to calm down.

This was the nature of your relationship with your Mapi. The two of you were constantly teasing and bullying each other, both of you knowing the love you held for each other. You saw right through what she wanted from her night out, and decided that you just didn’t have the energy to join her, or more accurately, join your other friends, in their night.

“Mapi, while I appreciate the invite, I’m gonna stay here. But you have fun! I just need a night in.” You stood up from the couch to retreat to your room, stopping briefly to turn back to your friend right as you reached your bedroom door. “And Maria- don’t sleep with that bartender tonight. I know I said to get laid but I don’t mean her. As your friend I’m telling you, something is off about her, so please bring home any other person instead.”

The defender rolled her eyes at you but you knew she’d take your advice seriously. Every time you went out, the same bartender would spend the entire night flirting with Mapi. She hadn’t done anything wrong, per say, but something about her just rubbed you the wrong way and all you knew was that you didn’t want Mapi bringing her back to your apartment. Maybe it was just the way she looked at her or how drop dead gorgeous she was behind the bar, but it made you slightly possessive over your best friend.

With that, you retreated into your room for the night, allowing Mapi to go on with whatever she had planned and for you to get occupied by your thoughts while you attempted to watch a movie. However, all you could think about was how right Mapi had been when she teased you for being so afraid of talking to girls. You had thought about it some before but could never figure out why you were that way. The only girls you were ever all that comfortable around were your teammates and even so, it wasn’t unusual for you to still tense up around them at times. Mapi seemed to be the only one who you truly could let down your walls around no matter what and something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

You couldn’t figure it out. She was your best friend and she had been for years, why would you suddenly be questioning how you felt about her? It’s not like anything had changed? So why should your feelings be?

The more you thought about it, the more it absolutely tore you to pieces, eventually resorting back out to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea in hopes of being able to get to sleep eventually. You didn’t realize how much time had passed until Mapi was quietly opening the front door, sneaking into the kitchen under the assumption you would already be asleep.

You didn’t hear her enter, scaring you half to death when she suddenly started speaking to you, “You’re still awake? You okay? Something on your mind?” when her voice broke through your thoughts, you jumped, grabbing your chest as you caught your breath.

“Jesus, Mapi! You scared the shit out of me, what's wrong with you?!”

“Ay, calm down, I didn’t mean to,” she held her hands up in surrender. “Are you okay?”

You sighed, unable to actually be mad at her. “Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t an entire lie, but there was no way you could tell her what you were actually thinking, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible. “I see you’re home alone. Couldn’t find any girls willing to put up with your yapping, huh?”

“Oh don’t worry, my mouth would have been far too busy to be yapping.” You almost spit out your tea, shocked by her response while she smirked at you, giving you a small shrug once you calmed down. Mapi’s plans for her mouth were certainly not something you needed to be thinking about at the moment. “I just didn’t really feel it tonight, I don’t know.”

She joined you at the table, stealing a sip from your tea as she did so. “You should’ve seen Patri and Pina tonight, cari. Those two were crazy…” She continued on and on, filling you in on everyone’s antics from the night, while you just listened. It was easy for you to be completely captivated by her as she spoke. You were used to her talking nonsense and you just listening, always getting lost in how excited she got and how her smile grew the longer she spoke.

Eventually Mapi noticed the way you struggled to keep your eyes open, completely exhausted by the previous day, and helped you up. “Time for bed, you’re hardly awake. Also, don’tbemadatmebut I told Patri about how your date went so don’t be surprised if you hear from her tomorrow. Goodnight!” She rushed out her words, barely understandable, conveniently right before you went to bed and were too tired to actually be mad at her like you would’ve otherwise. Hardly even processing what she said, you decided you could handle Patri in the morning and went straight to bed, finally too worn out to be kept up by your thoughts any longer.

You slept in late, later than you normally would, hearing Mapi already up and doing things on the other side of your wall. When you eventually emerged from your room, you were shocked at the state of your best friend. “MAPI! What the fuck!” There she was, casually doing her laundry, in nothing but a sports bra and her underwear.

“Que?” she genuinely looked confused by your reaction, somehow unsure as to what your problem was.

“Since when does laundry day mean walking around in your underwear?!”

“Well otherwise you can’t clean all your clothes. Cause the one’s you’re wearing are still not clean so you still have more laundry to do. So I figured why not just wash everything?” She acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world while you kept your eyes glued to the floor, worried that you’d get caught looking somewhere you shouldn’t. You could only hope that she wouldn’t notice the slight blush that was rising to your cheeks.

“Mapi, somehow you still find ways to surprise me even after three years of living with you.” You shook your head at her, trying to hide how flustered you were while you sat down on the couch to check your phone.

Somehow, you’d already missed a variety of messages from Patri regarding your failed date that she had set you up on. Normally you’d ignore her or tell her off for bugging you about always being single, but for some reason you decided to entertain her today. Maybe if you agreed to more of her setups and put in more of an effort, it could get you out of whatever weird headspace you found yourself in the night before. Whatever it was you were feeling about Mapi, you needed to put an end to it and hopefully some more successful dates could be the solution you needed. So in a lapse of judgment, you agreed to meet up with another one of Patri’s friends that night. Her source of single, lesbian, friends seemed to be endless so she was overjoyed when you finally stopped putting up a fight.

There you were once again, getting ready to go on yet another date that you weren’t too excited about. You were trying your best to have a good attitude but it was harder than you expected.

“You’re all dressed up,” Mapi raised her eyebrows at you, mimicking the exact conversation you had had 24 hours earlier.

You let out a sigh, already regretting your decision to do this. “Yeah, I let Patri set me up with someone else, so I have another date. We’re just getting dinner so I shouldn’t be out too late, especially with training tomorrow morning.”

“Wow, you’re really putting yourself out there,” she paused for a moment, almost looking… disappointed? But the defender quickly changed her tune, doing a complete 180, “You have fun, chica! Keep an open mind and my phone’s on if you need anything! You can always give me a call!”

“Gracias, Mapi! I’ll see you later? Adios!”

You set off towards the restaurant you agreed on, deciding on walking as it was only about a twenty minute walk and the weather was nice. If nothing else, the walk could help clear your mind before you had to meet this girl for real.

You were about five minutes early so you were the first one there, leaving you to get a table and wait for your date to arrive.

The girl was a total stranger to you, not even having her number, only knowing that somehow Patri knew her and set the whole thing up. So you sat with your glass of wine, and waited.

After a while you checked your watch. It was now ten minutes after your agreed upon time. But that was understandable, right? Ten minutes was no big deal, she was probably just running late. You double checked your texts with Patri to make sure you had the right time and place and went back to waiting.

There you sat, getting more and more anxious for every minute that passed. This is why you hated things like this; dates always just filled you with anxiety. You’d already received plenty of looks of pity from the wait staff, and weird glances from the people dining around you. After it reached thirty minutes past your meeting time, you gave Patri a call which she of course, didn’t answer.

When it hit 45 minutes, you decided you had had enough. Tears had started pooling in your eyes from a mix of anger, embarrassment, frustration, and anxiety. You shakily got up from your table, apologizing to your waiter and paying for your wine as you did so. As soon as you reached the front door, you saw that it had begun to rain, instantly deflating your mood even further. You knew walking home would be the thing to fully send you over the edge so you decided to call your Mapi to pick you up.

“Chica, estás bien?”

“Mapi, can you please come get me?” Mapi could hear the exhaustion in your voice, obviously trying to hold back tears.

“Si. Si, I’ll be right there, I’m leaving right now.” You could tell from her voice that she was rushing, coming to your rescue as fast as she could. She stayed on the phone as she drove, speaking nonsense in an attempt to distract you until she arrived about five minutes later.

When you got in the car, she looked at you hesitantly, clearly wanting to ask what happened.

“Maps, she stood me up.”

“Oh, cari.” Her hold body deflated at your words, “I’m sorry. I swear, when I see Patri tomorrow I’m gonna kill her. Why would she try to set you up with some shit girl she knows? I can’t stand that! You deserve better than that, you know that, right? You deserve someone who will treat you like a fucking queen, and I-”

You interrupted her by setting your hand on her thigh as she drove. “Mapi, it’s fine. I appreciate the sentiment but it’s fine, it’s not Patri’s fault.” The two of you settled into a comfortable silence- both of you lost in thought, unknowingly for the same reason.

“Thank you for picking me up,” your voice was hardly audible.

“Of course. I told you, I’ll always be here for you if you need anything. It’s no bother, really.”

“You’re telling me you really have nowhere better to be than here picking me up from a stupid restaurant in the rain?”

“Where else would I be right now other than the couch? Sure you might have to answer to Bagheera, but I think she’ll understand.”

You returned her soft smile, although your thoughts were more conflicted than ever before. “I just can’t help but think this is more effort that most people would put into a friend.” Both of you were silent as she parked the car, not quite sure what you were getting at. You didn’t quite know either, if you were being honest. Your emotions had taken over all sense of logic and all you could think about was the girl sitting next to you.

“Let’s go inside, order some takeout, and talk, si?” You nodded and followed her inside, terrified of the direction your conversation would be going in.

Once you got inside and changed from your nice clothes, you both settled on the couch next to each other. “Hmm, nice sweatshirt you’ve got there.” Mapi raised an eyebrow at you as you sat down, looking down at your clothes in confusion. You hadn’t even realized that in your mess of an emotional state, you had put on a hoodie that was definitely hers, instantly comforted by the familiar smell.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I had it. I’ll wash it and get it back to you tomorrow.”

“Oh no, mi amiga, keep it. I like seeing you in it.” suddenly her voice had gotten much quieter than usual.

“Mapi, don’t be ridiculous, this is one of your favorites.”

“No, I mean it. You’re keeping it.”

You felt tears brimming your eyes once again and tried to blink them away, partially from your emotions from the night catching up to you, and partially filled with appreciation for the girl in front of you.

“Amiga, are you crying?”

“NO. No, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“Vale, vale, bien. You’re not crying, I’m just gonna give you a hug, because I want to then, not because you’re crying, because you definitely aren’t crying, I’m just giving you a hug for no reason.” You rolled your eyes at the way she smiled at you, seeing right through you like she always did before pulling you into a hug. Mapi always seemed to know you better than you liked to admit, allowing you to instantly relax in her arms. “You’re adorable.” she mumbled into your shoulder, quietly enough that it took you a second to process her words that she likely didn’t intend for you to hear.

“What’d you just say, Mapi?”

“Hmm?” she pulled away to look at you. “Oh. Nothing.” Her head shook quickly, as if she had no idea what you were talking about, something that made you smile at her once again.

“Maps, I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this but I don’t know who else to tell other than you and I just need to get it off my chest.” She looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. “I’m always so scared of girls and dating and all of that.” You looked up at her, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you know that already.” You were met with an encouraging smile as you thought about what you wanted to say next. “But I never could figure out why I was so scared. I just could never get comfortable with anyone and I think I’ve always been terrified of getting hurt if I let my walls down. But lately I feel like I’ve realized that you’re the only person that I ever feel completely comfortable with. And you’re the only person that I’m not worried about hurting me. And I don’t know what to make of that, and it scares me, and you’re literally my favorite person in the world, and I just-” You took a deep breath in an attempt to prevent yourself from getting even more worked up. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

Mapi was silent in thought for a minute but reached out to grab your hand, her way of letting you know that she wasn’t upset but just needed a second to think before responding. When she finally did, her voice was shaky and much less animated than you typically heard it. “You know how I am with dating. You know I’d rather just hook up with people and play around.” This was not at all what you expected her to say, raising your anxiety even further. “I never saw myself being able to settle down. It was always too scary. I’d rather put no feelings into it and just have fun than risk someone else fucking me up. But something about you, changes that for me. There’s a reason I haven’t been hooking up with anyone lately. You were my best friend before you were anything else, amor, and I don’t want to put that at risk.” Her eyes glanced up at you hesitantly, barely whispering out her last words, “But you make the idea of settling down seem easy.”

If you thought you were confused before, it couldn’t even compare to how you felt now. Your mind was running on overdrive, trying its best to make sense of her confession. You’d never in life seen Mapi look so scared and vulnerable, something that was saying a lot as you had seen her at some major low points. She was hardly making eye contact with you, and was more fidgety than usual- picking at her nails and tapping her foot.

The defender took a huge deep breath, before giving your hands a squeeze. She could easily see the way your thoughts were spiraling and knew she would have to be the one to say what you were both thinking.

“Why don’t we stop pretending we still think of each other as friends? Cause I don’t know if I can do that anymore.”

You looked up at her surprised, just now realizing that she was serious in sharing the feelings you had. “Mapi are you for real? And don’t fuck with me right now, cause I swear-”

She giggled slightly at your reaction, stopping you in your tracks, “En serio, amor. Prometo.” You could tell that she was. Her face was as serious as she ever was.

“Then let’s not be just friends anymore.”

You hardly realized the way the two of you had drifted closer throughout your conversation, both of you speaking much quieter, only a few inches apart. “I want to show you what you deserve, treat you like the queen you are, and show you how much I love everything about you.” Both of you were looking all over the other’s face, your eyes bouncing from her lips, back up to her eyes, and taking in everything in between. If you could memorize every freckle in that moment, you would’ve.

“Then do it, Maps.”

There was maybe only an inch separating you, but for some reason she was still scared of messing it up. "Am I reading this wrong? If I am.. push me away." Your noses brushed together as you could feel her breath on yours. When you didn’t hesitate at her words, she took that as the approval she needed, instantly pressing her lips against yours. The chemistry between you was more than either of you had felt with anyone else, finally doing exactly what you didn’t realize you had been waiting for along.

Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open and appreciated!

Masterlist

#barcelona femeni #woso imagines #barca femeni #fcb femini #woso x reader #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #maria león #maria leon #maria leon x reader #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingmapi #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #espwnt

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copperbadge · 2 days

Text

Lately, it's felt like every time I've started to work on writing, I'll just be getting into the rhythm of it when I get interrupted, either by work or the cats or because the time I'd booked in the library study room is up (you can only do two hours at a time, and only four hours a week total). It was getting to the point where I kept re-reading the same chapter or so of previous work but never managing to add to it.

So I tried an experiment this past weekend -- I found a really cheap rate on a local hotel room, and on Friday I took an overnight bag and a very old laptop with limited processing power and checked into a room about a mile from home for a quasi "staycation". I unpacked and had a quiet night on Friday, as prelude to working Saturday-Sunday. The idea was to write uninterrupted by other people, pets, the presence of all my Stuff around me at home, et cetera.

I had snacks but I also bought meals out, which was nice; I don't often order in or buy out when I'm at home. The way I set up was that I would do fifty minutes of writing with do-not-disturb engaged on my phone and then ten minutes of checking email, texts, etc. since often what pulls me out of writing is a text or an email that needs answering, or the anxiety that I'm missing one that would. If I set it so that every hour I check, well, nobody's going to die if something doesn't get answered in an hour, so the anxiety isn't there, and neither is the distraction. (I found a nice app for this, review later depending on how functional it continues to be for me, but it's a like $4 app called Forest.)

It worked pretty well -- writing for an uninterrupted hour, as long as I know what I'm working on, is very functional for me. I average about two thousand words, that way, though there is a limit to the number of hours I can put in. I ended up doing two hours in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, then switched from fiction writing to clearing out my tumblr drafts and some correspondence for the fourth hour. So it went something like

Go out and get breakfast, bring back and eat in room

Change into lounging clothes and do two one-hour sessions

Go out and get lunch, eat lunch out

Bit of a rest break back in the room

Two one-hour sessions, one of writing; when tired, switch to something that requires less creativity

Go out and get dinner, bring back and eat in room

And then in the evening the plan was to watch movies or catch up on reading, but I ended up being mentally weary, so instead I did some simple tarot reading. It was less divination or even meditation than just messing around, keeping the creativity stimulated; I did a couple of Creative Writing spreads, some very brief divination spreads (I nicked a nice three-card spread here that I mentally call He To Hecuba, and just used it in general rather than for a specific question) and then invented a spread when I was starting to get irritated that the same like, five cards kept coming up, more on this in its own post.

Sunday I did one more writing session but it was less successful, I think partly because what I was writing required a lot of research and partly because the previous day I'd dumped eight thousand words into the file. (Research took longer because I brought the most garbage laptop known to man, and the browsers crash if you try to open Google Maps, but in other ways it was ideal since there wasn't much I could do on it other than write.) But I had a good breakfast, got some rest, packed up easily enough, and headed home just ahead of the rain storm.

I don't think it's something I'll be able to do in that format especially often, since the deal I got on the hotel was an anomaly and Chicago lodging, even just AirBNB stuff, is stupid expensive. But in addition to helping get some work done it was a nice break, so I'm going to look into ways I could swing it on a perhaps monthly basis, or some other way to cheaply spend an entire day alone with decent access to a bathroom/snacks and a way to come and go easily. I've looked into coworking spaces before but they tend to be prohibitively expensive and don't really have the setup I'd prefer; there's a hostel on the north side with private rooms that I might try out but it doesn't seem significantly cheaper than a hotel. I might just have to pick one weekend a month and watch last-minute hotel price cuts where they simply want to fill a room for a day or two.

Anyway, functionally I wrote almost a fifth of a novel this weekend, and one that I wasn't feeling super on fire about; I'm feeling much better about it now that I've got some established plot going and I feel like I "know" the newer characters a bit better. (Also I'm enjoying writing Simon as someone who is absolutely entranced by his love interest and clueless that what he's feeling isn't mild antipathy because they met while fighting over ricotta.) So it was a big help, although if I were to put a budget line item in the Extribulum Press ledger for "writing staycation" it would wipe out my royalties surplus very quickly.

#writing #shivadhverse

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toournextadventure · 1 day

Text

hate crime

Summary: No one knows what happened to Ghostface after his initial onslaught on New York City. Unfortunately for the population, he didn't disappear; he just got better.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, Scream violence, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night & a novel life masterlist)

Rainy nights in New York City were the best. They gave way to those calm nights in the apartment that led to soft evenings and the best sleep of the week. If one was lucky, they would be able to grab a bite at Sofia’s and really live it up. A nice night, movies on the TV, and a half-finished pie on the counter? What else could a girl want?

A date. Cassidy wanted a date. Her boyfriend wasn’t a prick, but he was just stupid enough to not know the basics of a relationship. For instance, it was raining on a Saturday night? You invite your fucking girlfriend over so you can both get fucking laid. It wasn’t fucking rocket science. But no, he just had to watch the game with his fucking friends, and leave her to do absolutely nothing in her empty ass apartment.

Instead, she was alone. All alone, watching some shitty movie while he was probably having the time of his life.

Prick.

Well, at least she had ice cream to accompany her. A delicious pint of raspberry cheesecake. Just one bite was enough to transport her to heaven, and she would argue with anyone who thought otherwise. It had been long enough since Cassidy had put it in the freezer that it was just hard enough to make a nice bite, but not too hard to put up a fight.

It was perfect.

Cassidy’s phone vibrated loudly on the counter when she opened the cutlery drawer. It wasn’t all that unusual to get calls at odd hours; work, school, and friends made sure she kept her phone available at all times. And she answered them. So it was instinctual to pick up the phone and accept the call as she fished out a spoon and closed the drawer.

“I’m not interested,” she said before her friend on the other end could even speak.

“Uh, that’s good,” an unknown voice answered, “because I’m not selling.”

Cassidy’s brows narrowed. “Who is this?” She put the spoon in her mouth as she waited for an answer. A warm spoon was optimal for ice cream.

“A friend of a friend,” the voice said. It was hard to tell if it was a guy or a girl. “They dared me to call.”

“Friend of a friend?” She hummed, thinking about who it could be. “Was it David?”

The person on the other end of the line laughed. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“I knew it, that prick,” she sighed. It was no surprise it was David, he would do anything for a cheap laugh. “What do you get out of this shitty prank anyway?”

“Well, it depends,” the voice answered.

Cassidy leaned forward on her counter and smiled to herself. “On what?”

“How long I can keep you on the call,” they said, matching her tone. “Wanna split the $60?”

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out far longer than necessary as she grabbed her pint of ice cream and made her way to the living room. “I guess I can’t turn down $30.”

Cassidy pressed the phone between her cheek and shoulder while she moved. Her hip bumped against the recliner, but it didn’t phase her; she hit it more often than not. As she sat down in the chair, she could hear similar shuffling on the other end of the line. Nothing about it phased her.

“So,” the caller said, drawing out the “o” for far too long. “You doing anything exciting tonight?”

Cassidy chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah, me, myself, and I are really living it up.” She put a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and left it there as she turned on Scary Movie 5. How exciting.

“Well,” the caller said with a barely hidden laugh, “what are the three of you doing tonight?”

“A Scary Movie marathon.” She took another bite of her ice cream. “Probably for the fifth time this semester.”

“So you like them.”

“Love them,” she answered instantly. “I could watch them all day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then what’s your favourite Scary Movie?”

Cassidy looked down at her ice cream and scraped the spoon over the top. That was a pretty good question. The humour in each movie was top tier to her, and that wasn’t negotiable. She couldn’t compare them on that aspect because they all depended on which movies they were making fun of. But there was one movie that stood out from all the rest, she supposed.

“Probably the first one,” she finally said. “It’s a classic.”

“Isn’t that the one based on those Stab movies?”

“That’s the one,” she said with a singular nod that no one could see.

The movie continued to play on the screen.

“Have you ever seen the Stab movies?”

“Fuck no,” Cassidy said before the unknown voice could even finish the question. “Horror movies give me the creeps. Especially when they’re based on real people.” A minuscule shiver wracked her body as if to prove her point.

She heard a deep breath on the other end of the line. “You know, you really should watch the original.” Another breath. “It’s to die for.”

Something about the tone of that last sentence put Cassidy on edge. Perhaps it was simply because she was home alone while the storm continued to rage outside. None of her friends talked like that. Sure, this person was a friend of a friend, but it was still a bit odd.

This person was a bit odd. Was the $30 really worth talking to a weirdo all night? She could be settled with a blanket and paying attention to her movie. But no, she just had to answer the phone and accept a shitty deal. She would need to tell Heather about this whole weird situation later.

“Hey, how much longer until we get that money from David?” Cassidy asked. She couldn’t stop thinking about that last thing the person had said, but she chose to try and ignore it.

“Just a few more minutes,” the caller said in a breathy tone. It was creepy. “Which movie are you watching?”

“What?”

“For your marathon,” they clarified. “Which one?”

“Oh,” she chuckles humourlessly. Nervously.

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to tell the truth anymore. There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach. She hesitantly placed the half-empty pint of ice cream on the side table, soon accompanied by the spoon she had licked clean.

“The third one,” she finally answered.

“No you’re not.” A lump forced its way into her throat. “That’s the fifth.”

Her entire body was frozen while the words ran laps around her mind. What the hell was going on? Her nerves felt like they were engulfed in fire, leaving her simultaneously too hot and frozen. That wasn’t right. The words didn’t form any proper reason in her mind, but she understood the sinking feeling it left in her chest.

“How do you know which movie I’m watching?” She asked as she slowly stood up from her chair.

A heavy breath. “Because I can see your screen.”

As soon as the words pieced together in her head, Cassidy ran to her balcony window. The curtains were closed. They weren’t the only windows into her apartment, but they were the only ones that faced the TV. As far as she knew, no other window could see her screen; a deliberate furnishing choice on her part.

“Listen,” she said breathlessly as she stared at the closed curtains. “I’ll tell David we talked all night if you want.” There was no response. “You can even keep all the money.”

A taunting laugh.

“I never said I talked to David.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. She knew she should have hung up at first. Who the hell was this freak? It was New York City, there were plenty of freaks around, but this? This was just psychotic. Nobody in their right mind would do this shit!

She quickly tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder again and grabbed the curtains with both hands-

“-Open it and I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. How would they even get into the apartment? She froze and reconsidered. How else could they have known what was on her TV? God, what was going on? She thought about the ramifications for far too long before letting go of the curtains. They shifted for a few moments before finally settling back into place.

“Who are you?” Cassidy’s voice was weak.

“You assumed our mutual friend was David.” She waited impatiently. “But surely you haven’t forgotten our dear friend Anika.”

Cassidy laughed bitterly. “Are you fucking serious?” She stomped through the apartment to grab the ice cream and dirty spoon. “Did that loser and her freak girlfriend put you up to this?” She practically threw the ice cream back into the freezer. “Because it’s pathetic.”

Of course that freak had caused this. She hadn’t bullied Anika and Mindy for nothing. Cassidy was a patient soul, it was true, but even she had her limits. No one wanted to hear those weirdos talk about stupid movies 24/7, especially when it wasn’t necessary. Didn’t they know there were better, more important things in the world?

“Those are some strong opinions to have,” the caller said over the sound of the spoon hitting Cassidy’s sink. “Especially for someone in your position.”

She rested her hip on the counter. “And what position would that be?”

“You can open your balcony window now, Cassidy.”

The curtains of the balcony were swaying. If she strained her ears, she could hear the rain falling a little louder. Would it be smart to open the curtains and see what was out there? Or maybe she should just hang up, call the police, and let them deal with it. After all, the police had never done anything wrong to her, surely she could trust them.

But she wanted to know. She wanted to know what those freaks had managed to pull off all on their own. Cassidy wouldn’t have called them stupid; at least not Anika. But there was no way she would have said any of them were smart. They were all just a bunch of down on their luck kids who had gotten into Blackmoore out of pity, not intellect.

Whether she had fully intended to or not, she let her feet carry her toward the balcony. As she got closer, she could hear the rain and wind clearly; the balcony window was open behind the curtains.

“How do you know my name?” She asked even though it was a stupid question. If this person was friends with Anika, then that was how they knew.

Still.

“Everyone knows your name.”

She reached out and grabbed the curtain with both hands.

“Or they’re about to.”

Cassidy closed her eyes, threw the curtains open, and screamed. She used every ounce of breath and energy in her body to release the most blood curdling scream she could manage. But when she opened her eyes, the scream died down in her throat.

There was nothing on the balcony. The door was open, but there was nothing there. Not in the doorway, not on the actual balcony, and not across the street. Hell, the only thing she could see was the poor potted plant that she had let die last year and hadn’t thrown out yet.

This was all just some sick joke.

“You know, this is really pathetic,” Cassidy said calmly even though her heart was still pounding in her chest. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Fine, call them.” She grabbed her phone and looked for the “end call” button. “They’ll find out all about your dirty little secret.”

She froze.

“Turn around, Cassidy.”

Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. Mixed with the rain and wind coming in through the open balcony window that she couldn’t bring herself to close, it was deafening. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to see what could possibly be hiding behind her. It could all be some cruel joke and the apartment could be empty.

Or not.

She took a few short, quick breaths and braced herself before finally turning around quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet. There, in the middle of her apartment, was Heather. Heather, the best fuck she’d ever had, tied up in the chair like a piece of meat. There was a gash on her head that was dripping blood into her eyes, but aside from that there weren’t any other physical injuries.

“Heather?” Cassidy said in disbelief.

“Please help me,” Heather cried. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Cassidy dropped the phone without hanging up. She didn’t care anymore. All of this had gone too far. Those creeps had crossed too many lines. Messing with her? Fine. It was pathetic, but fine. But finding her secret hookup? Didn’t they know she had a reputation? What would her boyfriend think if he found out? Actually, he would probably think it was hot. Maybe that was worse.

“Did Anika do this to you?” She asked as she attempted to untie the knots in the rope. It was probably the first time in her life she had ever regretted having acrylics.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Heather said with a sniffle. A drop of blood fell onto the rope. “Her and her geek friends are obsessed with this shit.”

“We’ll call the cops later,” Cassidy said. “I’m tired of their freaky, “poor us” bullshit.”

The ropes weren’t budging, and her fingers were feeling raw. How had they managed to do such a thorough job so quickly? Perhaps because, like she had known from the very beginning, they were all a bunch of freaks. A bunch of freaks who had no lives, no real friends, and no chance of living like normal people. She smirked to herself. They’d have one hell of a time getting any sort of job after college if she had anything to say about it-

-the floor creaked.

Cassidy’s fingers froze. There was only one place in her apartment that the floor creaked. And it wasn’t underneath her or Heather. She looked up slowly. First she saw Heather, sitting there impatiently and waiting for her to get her out. Then the gash on Heather’s face.

Then the cloaked figure standing behind her.

Then the Ghostface mask shrouded in a black hood.

The Ghostface tilted his head at her. She couldn’t move. It felt like the air had frozen in her lungs. She just had to kneel there and watch as he lifted a gloved hand with a giant knife and waved at her with two fingers. The knife was huge. His free hand lifted just as slowly and pushed the mask back inch by inch until she could see the bottom of his face.

The smile was accentuated by the deep scars stretching across both cheeks.

Cassidy opened her mouth to scream before something came from behind her and pressed against her throat.

She never made a sound.

—---

The pool of blood slowly inched across the tarp that had been carefully arranged underneath the two college girls. It was wide enough to catch any accidental splatter, yet thick enough to keep it from spilling out. A wise purchase for a wise killer. Or two.

Ghostface stepped forward, standing over the corpses. It wasn’t their proudest moment; there had been a few hitches in the plan. But when the result was the same, well, they supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. They grabbed the mask and yanked it off.

“You jumped the gun,” Tara said breathlessly. The adrenaline was still running through her veins; she had grown to love it.

The second Ghostface removed their mask next.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.” You looked down at the corpses of your enemies with glee and disgust. “She’s just such a bitch.”

You both continued to stand there, neither one daring to make the first move. The silence after a kill was one of the more satisfying moments to you. No more screaming, no more steel cutting through flesh. Just the sounds of your breathing and the blood rushing through your ears.

“I didn’t know they were gay,” you finally said. “Or closeted, I guess.”

“I think Mindy said they were experimenting,” Tara speculated. “They both tried to hit on Anika at one point.”

You hummed in response and continued to look at them. Not that you had stopped. That was the one thing you didn’t think you would ever really get used to. Sure, your family business was… a bit risque on its own, but this was different. You would argue with Dicky all day every day, but knife wounds were more gruesome than gunshots.

“Does this make us homophobic?” You asked. “Was this a hate crime?”

“I-” Tara stopped and closed her mouth. It made you feel a little better that she had to think about it too. “No,” she finally said with a slow nod. “We’re doing the world a favour.”

You smiled. “God, I love you.”

“Love me while we clean up,” she demanded even though you saw her smile. “Get moving.”

The cleanup process, all of you agreed, was the worst part. It was methodical, time consuming, and boring. You would much rather spend the time with Tara, not cleaning up after the two bitches that bullied all of you like you were still in fucking highschool. Truly, it was almost embarrassing for them. You didn’t want to clean up after their mess again.

But you liked the time you got with Tara. Since the whole original Ghostface debacle, she had lightened up. She still bullied you, but honestly? It was a turn on. You wouldn’t dare tell her to stop. If there ever came a day that you didn’t want Tara Carpenter to bully you? It would be the end of the world.

Cleaning up with Sam, however, was a beast.

That’s why you stuck with Tara. Not just because you loved her, of course, but it was a wonderful bonding activity. You hadn’t wanted to bring her into the family business because, well, that was just dangerous. But this? It was nice. And honestly? It got the both of yours adrenaline going and usually led to some of the best date nights.

…

Maybe you both needed more therapy.

“The scary movie question was clever,” you said after you had finally managed to haul the tarp - and the corpses - to the trash chute.

“Thank you,” Tara said with a genuine smile. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

“You should be,” you encouraged. “I thought Cassidy was gonna hear me laughing.”

“You would’ve been sleeping on the couch,” Tara replied. She was serious, but you knew the truth; she would’ve slept on the couch with you.

The next stage of cleaning was far easier on the back. It was basic cleaning, to make the apartment look lived in, but not abandoned. And certainly not like a murder had occurred. Or, you supposed it was a double murder. God, you still couldn’t get over how much of a bitch Cassidy and Heather were. You really did feel a million pounds lighter now that they were gone.

“You know,” you said as you rested your hip on the counter while Tara made sure no fingerprints were anywhere. “Blood looks really good on you.”

“Shut up,” she said quickly. You still saw the blush on her cheeks.

You weren’t lying though. The dark, now-dried blood was a wonderful match to her eyes. It also looked lovely on her skin. You couldn’t really explain what it was; maybe it was the taboo of it all (you definitely needed more therapy). Whatever it was, it was almost like she was glowing.

Maybe you were just in love.

Tara was still checking the kitchen counter when you stepped up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist. Her body seemed to relax in your arms. Like instinct, she leaned back into you and you could hold her closer. You were like two pieces to the same puzzle; your bodies fit perfectly together.

“It’s kinda hot,” you said before placing a kiss on her cheek. She tasted faintly of copper.

“You’re just deranged,” she said softly.

“Only for you,” you said. Your next kiss was placed on her jaw.

“We can’t do this here,” she said with a sigh. “We’re almost done.”

“We haven’t cleaned the bedroom yet,�� you offered. “And I’ve got another tarp in my bag.”

She didn’t argue.

“Think of it as an extra “fuck you” to Cassidy,” you continued. “We both know how much you hated her.”

Your arm pulled her tighter against you as you placed a third kiss right behind her ear. Just going off her silence alone, you knew she would cave. Tara did her best to keep things professional on the scene, but you knew how to win her over. And you knew how much she loved it.

“Okay,” she finally said. Whether she was aware of it or not, her head tilted to give you more access to her neck. “But only a quickie.”

“Seeing you like this?” You said as you bent down and swept an arm under her knees. She shrieked lightly before wrapping her arms around your neck. “I don’t think I could last very long anyway.”

You carried her to your bag and bent down so she could grab it before heading directly to the bedroom.

In the background, the credits of Scary Movie 5 rolled on the TV.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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soccer-love · 22 hours

Text

Wouldn't let you date my child

Tuva Hansen x reader

Besides the girls from the second team, I was the youngest one in the Bayern squad.

Only being 19 and already playing for Bayern München and the German national team was insane.

And even though it didn't make a difference while playing, they still liked to make fun of me for being the youngest.

Not in a bad way, since there wasn't such a huge age difference between me and the other players, but they just couldnt resist.

And then there were Magda and Pernille.

They joint Bayern at the same time as me and kind of took me under their wing.

Something our teammates liked to made fun of too, they said that they adopted me.

And to be honest I cant say that I don't like the thought of that, they are really nice to me and helped me a lot to get used to a new team and city.

"P, who would you not let date your child?" I hear Zadi asking as I put my suitcase into the bus. We are on our way to our away game in Duisburg and I think she got bored of waiting.

She has pointed her phone at Pernille, recording the question and her answer.

"Mhmm....Tuva I think." she then says, laughing.

I watch Zadi asking the same question to some other players and I notice that a lot of them actually say Tuva.

I stay outside until I see Magda coming towards Zaid, cause I am really curious about her answer.

She asks her the question and Magda laughs, "I cant say that, I think it's sorta mean."

"Magda." Zadi complains.

"Tuva." Magda then whispers, making Zadi laugh.

I get into the bus and take my usual spot behind Magda and Pernille.

"Hey P." I hear Glodis shouting, she is siting a few rows before us, a big smile on her face.

"Why wouldn't you let Y/N date Tuva?" she asks, making the others around us laugh.

"Why wouldn't you let your child date Georgia?" she replies and I notice Tuva looking at me.

I smile at her and notice her cheeks getting a little red before she looks away.

We fly out to Duisburg and when we get to our hotel it is already late, we all eat dinner together before going to our rooms.

Since Kathi isn't here because of her injury I get a single room and after I settled in I hear a slight knock on the door.

"Hey there." I greet Tuva, she's already dressed in some joggers and a Bayern hoodie.

"Sorry but I cant come in." she says, but takes a step inside so I can close the door behind her.

"Why not?" I ask, leaning against the wall.

"Your adoptive moms don't want you to date me." she says but by the smile on her face I know that she isn't serious and she comes closer to me.

She places her hand against the wall, next to my head and I look at her innocently.

"Really, well in that case.....maybe you should go back to your room." I say, trying to step aside but she quickly places her other hand also on the wall, so I am trapped between them.

"Or maybe I should just ignore what they think."

As an answer to that, I pull her closer and softly kiss her.

"I think option two is the better one." I whisper in the space between us as we brake apart.

"Good, because I really don't want to brake up with you, like ever."

I pull her into a hug and let my head rest on her shoulder.

"Do you think they really mean what they say?" I ask as we are lay down on my bed, Tuva instantly pulling me into her arms.

"A little maybe, but I don't think anybody from the team would tell their child who they can date and not date." she says, softly pushing some hair out of my face.

"I know I think to much about what people may think of me and technically Magda and P aren't even my parents but, except for you, they are the closest thing to family I have here." I say and she smiles at me.

"Yeah, but I they will always love you. They would rather kill me if I hurt you.."

I laugh at her answer and place a kiss on her cheek, we've only been together for seven months but I love her so damn much.

"Do you really think we are a family?" she asks after some seconds, referring to what I said earlier.

My heart melts at her question, Jesus I have so much love for her.

"Yes, I...I do think that." I say and feel her pulling me a little bit closer to her. "You and also Vilja are my family, and the team of course too."

"Oh yeah Vilja definitely thinks that too, she already loves you more than me."

"That's so not true."

"Oh yeah? You remember our walk last Saturday? When we both called her and she went straight to you."

"Maybe I am just so lovable." I suggest and she laughs, before pressing a kiss to my lips.

"Oh you defiantly are."

I let my head rest on her shoulder and Tuva pulls a blanked around us.

"I wish you could stay here tonight." I say, we talked about this topic a lot already, we thought about talking to the stuff so that we could be roomies but we didn't want anyone to get suspicious.

And even though I had a single room, we didn't want Lea to worry why Tuva wasn't sleeping in their room.

"Me too, but you can stay at my place tomorrow night if you like." she says and I nod.

"I will never say no to that."

She softly starts to run her fingers through my hair and it gets harder to keep my eyes open.

It is always like that with her, she makes me feel so safe and when I am laying in her arms, her running her hand through my hair. And when she then starts to talk to me in her native language, I tend to fall asleep.

"You should sleep, Søta." she whispers and I open my eyes again.

"Only if I get a goodnight kiss." I give in.

"Always." she softly places on hand on my cheek and then her lips meet mine.

I love the way they feel against mine and in the way she kisses me I can feel the love that is between us.

I am so lucky to have her.

"Goodnight." she whispers and gets up.

"Goodnight, Tuva." I answer and follow her to the door, she gives me another kiss before leaving and I quickly brush my teeth and then go back to bed.

------

The game the next day goes really well, Duisburg scores in the first half but after the break we score five times and take the three points home with us.

After the next training session I find a small note, tucked inside my shoes.

"Meet me outside, love T."

Tomorrow most of us are leaving for trainings camp with their national team so she probably wants to say goodbye to me.

I quickly change my cloths and collect my stuff, before saying goodbye to the others.

When I exit the locker room I hear Magda shouting something but I cant hear what it is.

I go to the spot where we usually meet after training and as I go around the corner I see her leaning against the wall.

"Hey." I say and for a few seconds I allow my self to get lost in the blue of her eyes.

"I wanted to say goodbye." she explains and takes me hand "But not here."

She pulls me down the hall and into a small room that is normally used for med tests, but there is nobody in it.

I put my bag down and Tuva pulls me into her arms.

"I'm gonna miss you." she whispers against my head.

I take a deep breath and inhale her scent before answering.

"I will miss you too."

She smiles, softly kissing my head.

"You know that we both have a couple of days off, after our last international game." she says and I nod.

"Yeah?"

"I thought...maybe...only if you want to...then..."

"Tuva." I softly say and she laughs, it is more than cute when she is this nervous.

"I could book you a flight no Norway and you could come with me to where I grow up, meet my parents, see my other home." she suggests.

"Other home?"

"Well that place, where my family is, is my home. But you are my home too." she explains and I smile.

"I would love to see your other home."

"Good, I will get you a ticket later." she says and I lean my head against her shoulder.

She places her hand on my cheek and softly rubs her thumb over my skin.

I lean back and softly kiss her, not wanting to let go of her yet.

And as she pulls me closer, my body crashing against hers, the door next to us flys open.

"Y/N I....WHOA!"

Tuva lets go of me but her hand is still holding mine.

"WHAT THE FUCK" Magda says, in a volume that now everyone probably heard it.

"Your good?" I hear Pernille asking from outside and then she comes in too.

"What's going on?" she asks as she sees me and Tuva standing there.

"They kissed." Magda says and points at us.

"Who kissed?" I hear Georgia asks and just some seconds after she comes in along with Linda and Jill.

"Tuva." Magda says, her voice so much deeper than usual that it scares me a little bit.

She takes a step forward and with one arm Tuva shoves me behind her back (something that would actually be really cute in another situation).

"Yes?"

"You are a really good player and I appreciate it that you always have my back on the field....BUT....if you hurt her or do anything to make her cry.....then I-" at that point of her speech, she reaches out and pokes her finger into Tuva's shoulder.

"-will hurt you!"

"I would never hurt her." Tuva answers, grabbing my hand a bit tighter.

"Babe....I think they're old enough to have a relationship." Pernille softly says, smiling at me but pulling Magda backwards.

"Well I guess your child doesn't care what you say about not dating someone." Glodis says from the door, I didn't even notice her coming in.

Magda turns back towards Tuva.

"You better be good Hansen!"

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #fc bayern frauen #magdalena eriksson #pernille harder #fcbfrauen x reader #tuva Hansen x reader #glodis viggosdottir #georgia stanway #lgbtq+

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the-lil-spud · 1 day

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Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo part FOUR!

lets see what else is in store for y/n ... you didn't think Velvette was just going to let her get away now did you?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

Seems Velvette had tagged your photo on her story with the hashtag #newmodel? Flicking your gaze back up to an amused Angel.

“Well toots … you might as well collect all three than just two. Here’s to you babe - you are so fucked”. He raised his glass. Raising your own you blink in shock.

Fucked was right.

It had been a few days since your exciting little adventure to the Vee Tower, coupled with the fact Velvette had not only shared your post on Sinstagram but followed you was helping you gain thousands and thousands of new followers and likes. But like your tequila, you took this with more than a pinch of salt. The Vee’s didn’t do anything for free. There was always a catch. You were waiting for this one to hook you sooner or later.

Unfortunately for you, it was sooner rather than later. You had finished your job for the night ready to head home, plus there was a bottle of whiskey and a hot bath with your name on it. Arm raised to wave a taxi you were distracted by your phone starting to buzz in your other hand. Unknown Number. Huh, weird. Deciding to answer it you lower your arm. What harm could it do?

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/n?” Frowning at the unfamiliar voice, hmm you were rather selective about who got your number. So … who was this?

“Speaking…?”

“Ah Miss Y/n I am Velvette’s assistant, and she is insisting that you come in to meet her to discuss an opportunity that you really do not want to miss out on” huh. Okay. Was not expecting that.

“Uh huhh … and when is she wanting to meet?” Looking up at the darkening sky you had a horrible feeling you weren’t going to be going home anytime soon.

“Well, what are you doing now?” Ohhh nooo! Come on!

“I have just finished work and was actu-”

“Ah perfect so you are free. Come to the Vee tower now and we will sort everything. See you soon” your mouth opened and closed as they hung up on the phone. Right eye twitching you took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. The bloody nerve! Grinding your teeth you raise your arm up again and wave at a taxi. Trying to calm your anger you shove yourself in the first one that appears, telling them to take you to the Vee Tower. Stewing in the backseat you think it must be nice to be an Overlord – just ordering small insignificant demons around. Shaking off the attitude you realise you need to tidy yourself up.

Looking down at your outfit, a sigh escapes you. Not exactly the outfit you’d want to meet the fashionista Overlord in – a leather bustier, leather pants and your customary neon pink accessories and heels matching of course with your favourite faux fur coat – but it was going to have to do. You didn’t exactly have time to prepare. Scurrying around in your purse to find your compact mirror, you quickly tidy up your eyeliner – snarling at the cabbie when he purposefully swerved nearly wrecking your makeup – and pop a new layer of dark pink lipstick on with a topping of gloss. A quick fluff to your blonde/pink hair and that was the best it was gonna get with such little time to prepare. Spying your perfume, you give a little spritz to your neck, wrists, and boobs. Noting that you’d need to get some more on your next outing as you were nearly out.

Thankfully you had just enough time to get all that done before the taxi pulled up at the tower, throwing the money at the demon you step out on the street. If possible the tower seemed even taller than before. Intimidating. Shaking your head you steel yourself for this meeting, how the last one went down with the other two is not what you want this time round. No unnecessary touching. No being cornered. And no flirting. Okay maybe a little bit of flirting, you were a demon after all. Wait – no! No! Bad thoughts!

Stepping in to the reception you check the board to see what floor Velvette was on, marching to the elevators you ignore the same receptionist who seemed surprised to see you again. Yeah, Bitch I’m back! In the elevator you press Velvette’s floor and breath deeply. It would all be okay. Perhaps they were just going to tell you how much they liked your post? Or they were wanting a thank you in person for all the followers? Or how surprised at how naïve and stupid you sounded. Shaking your head you groan softly. Of course it wasn’t doing to be okay, dealing with the Vee’s was never okay. Or safe.

At the soft ding you pulled your attention away from your depressing thoughts and instead to the scene in front of you. Velvette yelling at a load of models, other demons running around grabbing body parts off the floor and clothes being burned. Well. That was different. A twitch of your lips hid a smile – so the Vee’s weren’t as organised and poised as they’d like you to believe. Good to know.

Taking a step into what felt like the Thunderdome your movement must have caught Velvette’s attention, she suddenly was advancing on you and quite fast for someone so short. You thought you were small, but she only came up to your shoulder. Of course her attitude, energy and that amazing hairdo made up at least a foot, if not more. And living with the other two Vee’s she needed as much attitude and sass to keep up.

“Ah so you are Y/n, totally nice to meet you face to face. Saw your post girl and I am in love with them – that last photo dump was so gorgeous and hitting all the trends so good on you.” Linking her arm with yours like you two were old buddies she pulled you further into the room, her voice so quick you had to focus so intently to understand what she was saying.

“So … any who, guess you are wondering why I brought you here?” She gently shoved you down on the chaise lounge, a small ‘offt’ escapes your lips when you hit the seat. Steadying yourself you turn your body to face the Overlord who decided to take a seat right next to you. Your knees almost touching. Okay then.

“Yes, I was curious why…” a glass of champagne appeared in front of your nose – accepting it gingerly you carefully held it in your lap thanking the demon who passed her boss a glass.

“Look, your style is cute but I think with my influence your style can be out of this world – I am in the market for a new model” - a glance to the pile of body parts in the corner of the room made you gulp - “and with your figure and my style we could totally rock this Hell, making us a tonne of money and you a star so whatcha think – whatcha say I can sort the contract out asap no problem, no fuss”. Blinking in a bit of shock at the speed of what she spoke and what she was speaking about you had to hold your hand up to stop her for a second. Information overload.

“Uh – wow that’s real generous of you Miss Velvette-“

“Please call be Velvette, or Vel! None of this Miss business,” Her smirk was widening, her black lipstick was shining under the florescent lights above us.

“Well, Velvette, I am really touched that you think I could model for you as your fashion range is just fantastic and I love it – but if I am to sign that contract what am I giving you?” You pretend to take a sip from your glass. No liquid entered your lips. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d heard of someone being drugged and signing their soul away – you wouldn’t be one of those.

“Oh, nothing big really. Just something tiny. Teeny really. You wouldn’t even miss it.” She wafted one of her hands around as the other was typing away on her phone.

“Uh huh and what would that teeny tiny thing that I wouldn’t miss be?” You hedged her for the answer what you knew was coming.

“Just your soul babes – nothing big.” Yeah, to her maybe. To you it was a massive thing. And you’ll be honest, you didn’t have masses in this Hell but you did have your soul which was more than some have.

“Then the answer is going to be no, Velvette” you placed your glass down on the table. Her fingers stopped twitching across her screen, her red eyes focused solely on you. Now normally you were one to bow your head and not make eye contact, but you’d had enough of the bullying attitude of these Vee’s now – not one but two now have tried to contract you into losing your soul and you weren’t having it! Matching her glare with one of your own.

“No?” Keeping the eye contact you nodded.

“Not to say I am not grateful that you thought of me, or the fact you even took the time to speak to me. But my soul is non-negotiable. Plus, I have a job already. One which I love and want to continue. So, thank you. But my answer is and will always be - No.” You might have held your eye contact, but your hands were starting to tremble a little. Clenching them together in fists you keep your gaze on hers. A small sneer was pulling on her lips, and you were getting ready to be dismembered like the model before you. But it never came. Instead, she laughed. Laughed?!

Not like an evil MWAHAHA laugh. But a genuine laugh. Confused you wrung your hands together as she lightly slapped your knee and wiped a tear from her eye.

“You got guts girl; I’ll give you that.” A strained smile tugged at your lips, dead heart thumping in your chest. “Fine then. No soul contract – which is a shame we could have had so much fun” her expression darkened with mischief sparkling in her eyes pulling a little heat to your cheeks. “But instead let’s make a little deal? No souls just two businesswomen making a deal, whatcha say?”

Raising your eyebrows in interest you place your elbows on your knees leaning forwards: “what do you suggest?”

“Your socials are starting to take off, people are noticing you babes, and I am here for it! You are a rising star, don’t think I haven’t been paying attention and seeing that people are using your hashtags and your name when they’ve seen you at one of the clubs singing performing”, surprised she had even looked you could feel your blush deepen. “So, here’s the deal – you wear some of my designs, tag them in your socials, etc and you come and do a catwalk for me and sing?”

“You want me to promote your clothes and sing at one of your Cat Walks?” you clarify because this evening was not going the way you had planned or thought it would go.

“That’s it gorgeous – whatcha think?” You think this was probably the longest Velvette had been off her phone.

“And that’s it? No loopholes, no contracts, no soul-binding – just for me to wear your clothes, promote them on my social media and sing at one of your cat walks – that’s it?” You narrow your gaze at the Overlord, there’s got to be some sort of catch here. The way she was gazing at you like a cat that had caught the canary you were sure you were screwed in some way.

“That’s it honey. No catch, no loopholes, just good business”. Humming under your breath, you racked your brains to see if there was anything that could go wrong.

“Okay, how long do I have to promote your clothes for and when is the Catwalk show?” you ask, tapping on your own phone bringing up your notes and typing away.

“Shall we give it six months and see what happens from there? The next Catwalk is in a one month’s time” her smile only got bigger. You couldn’t think where or what could be a loophole, it seemed like too good of a deal. And your mama raised you to believe if a deal was too good to be true then it usually is. But then again. When did you ever listen to her?

“So far so good, but what do you get out of it?” Her smirk grew, well that can’t be good. She reached over and squeezed your leg softly, your eyes flitted from her hand to her smug expression.

“I get exactly what I want gorgeous, but honestly helping rising stars get their fame is mainly it” her charming smile didn’t win you over. She was a lying. But let her keep her lies for now. You knew how to play the game and so far, you hadn’t been burnt. What’s a little risk.

“Okay Velvette, you have a deal”. Raising your hand, she slapped hers into yours and gave it a strong shake – red and black smoke erupted from her making you jump back a little but was stopped from the grip she had. Her grin was terrifying. Her hair was waving around her head like it was full of static. But as soon as the smoke and lights appeared, they disappeared as if you had imagined it. Pulling your hand away, the tingle of electricity ran through your fingers, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. Not at all.

“Well then gorgeous now that’s all done – you can pop back tomorrow and we will get all your measurements and go through colour schemes, styles, etc so keep you day wide open yeah!” Finishing off her glass of champagne we leaned back against the chaise lounge – never once had she let her gaze off you.

Nodding in agreement you thank her while rising from your seat, it was time for you to go and drown yourself in that bottle of whiskey. “You can stay if you’d like?” A flush covered your cheeks at her racking her gaze up your body.

“Thank you, but I better get home. Big day tomorrow I want to be rested” you give her your best winning smile, slipping your purse under your arm. Rolling her red eyes at you she huffed a little, “fineee be boring babes”. Happily!

Before you could even think of taking a step towards the elevator the doors slid open. An unimpressed Vox stood in the middle tapping away on his own phone, not tearing his gaze away from it he steps into the room.

“So what unfortunate soul have you managed to convince to work with you now Vel?” His charismatic voice lacked his usual flare and instead sounded bored. Not something you usually would hear from the TV Demon.

Clearing your throat, you were frozen in place when his eyes connected with yours. Uh oh.

“That unfortunate soul would be me” you smile nervously at him, watching as his screen glitched slightly. That was weird. His bored expression disappeared with the glitch and in its place was his usual charming smile.

“Ah Miss Y/n what a pleasure to see you! What was that you just said?” Velvette appeared at your side, wrapping an arm through yours you watched his screen glitch a little again.

“She’s mine now Voxxie” she smirked at the glitching demon.

“She’s WHAT?!”

Taglist: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx

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undercoverpena · 22 hours

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11. dusky pink

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

“You didn’t have to come to help me.”

Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”

A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”

Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”

It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”

“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”

Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.

Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.

But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.

“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”

“But...?”

Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”

Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”

“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”

Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.

Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”

Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.

Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”

His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”

“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”

He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.

“I think you could do something like this.”

Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”

“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”

Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.

“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”

Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”

“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”

It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”

“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”

Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”

“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.

Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.

Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.

Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?

If I did, was it appreciated?

I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.

I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.

Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.

See, we have our things. Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.

I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?

I think I could find something for you to sit on.

Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.

Be a good movie, though.

[SENDS PHOTO]

Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.

It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.

I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.

You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.

Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.

Yours love me.

I am very aware.

If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.

Have I told you how pretty you are today?

Such a charmer. [SENDS PHOTO]

See I knew you looked pretty.

Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.

For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.

Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.

Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.

It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.

You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.

You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—

The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.

Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.

And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”

Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.

"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”

Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.

“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”

Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.

And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.

And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.

Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.

He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.

“This one!”

Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”

His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”

Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”

“Cause of the spikey back?”

Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”

“He has a little beak too, right?”

Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"

“I’ve been doing my research.”

At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.

Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.

The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.

“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”

“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.

Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”

Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.

“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.

Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”

Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.

Think you have a new fan.

Stop, do I really?

Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.

Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.

Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?

You not sick of me?

Not even a little bit.

I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.

The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.

It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.

“He hasn’t shut up about you.”

No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.

“Yeah?”

“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”

Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”

And you ramble.

For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.

“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”

You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.

“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”

“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.

Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.

“And, really like? That’s a new one.”

“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”

Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.

A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.

But, then, he’s not anyone.

“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”

Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”

“Only if you have the space too.”

“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”

Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.

“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”

“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”

Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”

“Frankie…”

“Have I… Is it too much?”

Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.

“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”

Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”

“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”

“I’ll make sure to move it next time”

Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”

Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.

You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.

“Send me a photo—post-training.”

His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.

“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”

“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”

Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.

Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.

“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”

“Would you, though?”

Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”

“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”

Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”

“I’m glad I’m useful.”

Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”

Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”

“You sure about that?”

Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.

Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.

“Frankie…”

“Baby, why don’t we hang—“

“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”

“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”

Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”

Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Francisco!”

His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.

“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”

“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”

Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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lynnsadventur · 2 days

Text

You finally finished your senior year of cheerleading. All the hard work you put in is starting to overtake you emotionally as you walk through the hallway towards the locker room for the last time. It's a bittersweet feeling.

Your eyes are a bit misty, and even though you've made this walk hundreds of times, the eerily quiet halls of the vacant school undistracting, you end up in the boys locker room. By the time you reach what should be your locker you realize what you did.

You turn around to try and leave but coming in the door are the three football coaches. A little buzzed from their celebratory end of season drinks...

*******************

*Shit, shit shit!*

I scramble quickly into the adjacent shower room to avoid the approaching football coaches. I silently chastise myself as I hear the laughing coaches enter the locker room.

*I made it four years!* I think to myself, with my back pressed against the community shower wall. *Four years without making a fool out of myself, now here I am, trapped in the boys locker room! How could I have been so stupid?*

*Maybe they'll leave. Just come in to drop things off, then they'll head home ... Vanessa, what were you thinking?*

Click! The sound of beer cans opening echo through the locker room as the coaches cheer to another successful season. They weren't leaving anytime soon, and there was no way out past them.

I silently stand there, wishing that my absurd situation would just go away. The coaches start talking about the last game, their favorite players, prospects for the next season, and their least favorite players. Time seemed to go on forever, as they reminisced about their former days of football glory.

"Hey Tim," one of the other coaches called out. "Tell George about that chick you fucked, back in our Senior year of varsity."

I could hear him laugh loudly, clear his throat, and answer with a deep voice. "Who, Teresa? Come on, Steve. Alright, alright. Oh man, you won't believe this. So, it's homecoming, right? We're down 13 in the end of the second. Not the best for homecoming game, right? Well, half time rolls around and the homecoming procession is going to start in an hour. A lot of the candidates for queen were cheerleaders, so they had to be given some time to change into their dresses, all that. So, I head back to the locker room, figuring I'd freshen up, get my head back in the game. The other players stuck around the field. So, I get in there, and find, none other but Teresa, standing at the mirror!"

The coaches laugh, and George, the one who apparently was hearing this for the first time, says "What the fuck? What was she doing in there?"

"Well, see, apparently all the mirrors were taken in the ladies room. She figured that since all of the guys were out on the field, so she had it all to herself. So, here I am, football stud, standing alone in the locker room with the hottest girl in school, can you guess what happened?"

Steve starts to laugh as Tim pounds his fist rhythmically into his hand. "Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmmm! Fuck yeah, bitch!" George joins the laughter as Tim mimics the girl's voice. "Yeah, T, give me that big black cock!"

I peek my head around to see Tim scooting along the benches, humping the air as if he was fucking the girl all over the place, as the other two coaches' chuckling erupts into roaring throes of laughter. My eyes get wide as I slip back behind the wall.

"Man," Tim adds as he opened another beer. "She went on to win homecoming queen, but me? Man, I was literally floating on that field! Won that game with MVP, and that night is when I got scouted by Stanford. So, I have Teresa's tight and white pussy to thank for my football successes!"

The three men continue laughing as a couple of beers are opened again. I silently sigh, roll my head back, and squeeze my eyes shut, as if I could just wish myself out of this room. I knew guys could be nasty, but I was surprised to hear the coaches raunchiness.

"Fuckin' cheerleaders, man." Steve interjects. "Have you seen the ones we got this year? The varsity? Holy fuck!"

George laughs and chimes in. "Yeah, man, girls today are something else. Maybe it's the outfits, but they just look ... fucking hot!"

"I know! And they're nasty as hell! You listen to the team in the locker room, and what some of those 'young, innocent girls' be doin'? They'd be putting that girl Teresa to shame!" Tim resumes his impression of fucking, while pretending to spank the air over and over again.

"Well, let's play a little game. Marry, fuck, kill. Cheerleading varsity squad." My eyes widen. My heart begins to race. I've already heard too much, and the coaches had no intention of leaving any time soon. *How am I going to get out of this?*

Steve goes first. "Okay. First, kill. Brittany." The men all simultaneously groan. "She's fat, ugly, and a bitch. I mean, you gotta choice on at least one of those things, damn!" The men laugh in agreement. "Ok, now for fuck. Part of me wants to say Megan, you know, word in the locker room is she gives great head, and her body is alright, but ... fuuuuuck, have you seen that blonde one? Vanessa?"

I let out a sharp gasp and hold my breath. I don't think they heard me.

"Yeah man, that girl is ... she's the whole fucking package. Full tits, nice ass, she's super lean, and God! She's got a nice camel toe. You guys seen it during those jumps? Those shorts under her skirt fit nice and snug over that juicy pussy!"

I cover my crotch with one hand and open my mouth in indignation. I hide behind the wall, silently, listening intently to their conversation.

"You know, word is she's still a virgin." George replies. "I know, that's why I'd fuck her! What if she's no good? I know Megan can give good head, so I'll just marry her. Great blowjobs for life! If Vanessa turned out to be a freak, I'd keep her as a side chick."

I can't believe what I was hearing. It wasn't quite true, but close enough. I had one guy, fairly small, who popped my cherry in sophomore year. It was over in a few seconds, and we broke up soon after when he moved away. No one since then.

George speaks up. "Okay, kill?" They all speak in unison. "Brittany."

George chuckles. "Yup, who else. Marry? That Asian chick. She's got a tight little body, great for tossing around. Plus, I love some good Chinese food."

Tim chuckles and retorts, "She's Japanese man."

"Alright fine, I'll buy her a fucking Chinese cookbook, are you happy?" They all laugh gregariously. "And fuck? That girl Vanessa. Man, she is hot! She's got a porn star's body. I love that short blonde hair, just long enough to grab but short enough to see her shoulders ... and I bet you that bitch has some pent up sexual tension in her. I'd like to fuck that out of her!"

"Alright, Tim, you're up." He sighs and thinks about it for a moment. "Okay, blowjob girl, what's her name? Megan? Okay. So, I marry Megan, right? Stay married for a while, keep getting that nasty head for a year or two. Then I fuck Vanessa." The other two groan at hearing the same choice for all three.

"Hold on, hold on now. I'm not done. So, I fuck Vanessa, right? Then, after I show Vanessa the ropes, I kill my wife, ehhh, what her name again? Blow job girl. Then I fucking marry Vanessa!"

They all erupt into loud laughter as Tim continues while laughing, "No way I can just fuck that tight white ass once! Fuck man, and those titties on that girl? She looks like a God damn model!"

I stand there, in the darkness of the showers, wide eyed with my mouth hanging open. I couldn't believe what I was hearing! Three grown men, objectifying my body. So many feelings were rushing through me; indignation, dread at being discovered, fear of losing my reputation ... and something else. I felt ... vibrant. My nipples felt swollen. My pussy felt an ache, a sort of unfamiliar yearning, that I couldn't quite explain.

The guys continue to talk, and I feel a chill as the sun disappears from the locker room window past the men. I was only wearing my cheerleading outfit; a top that ended above my belly button, and a skirt that ended just below the athletic booty shorts the coaches were leering about earlier. I slip off my tennis shoes to tiptoe around the shower room, see if I could devise another way out. I sneak further onwards along the wall -

The motion activated lights that had previously not detected me blasted on with a blinding florescent whiteness. I gasp loudly and reach for the wall as I inadvertently grab the shower handle ... which then turns on and blasts me with ice cold water! I scream loudly in shock.

"AHHHHHH! Oh God, no!" I slip on the slick floor and fall ungraciously onto my back, still under the jet of cold water. I lie there, gasping and sputtering as the shockingly frigid water blasts my face.

"What the fuck is that?!" One of the coaches yells out. I hear them all jump up to investigate as I whimper, mortified, sprawled out on the ground.

Steve pops his head into the shower room and whispers, "oh fuck." Tim and George appear at the entrance as well. "Hey, that's Vanessa, fuck." They murmur to each other. Tim steps up.

"Hey, are you okay?!" He calls out. He turns off the water as I pant, still in shock from the icy blast and the bright lights.

Steve crouches down next to me. "What in the hell are you doing here?! This is the -"

"Men's locker room, I know." I retort, with a fair amount of attitude in my tone. I slowly try to get up and slip back down onto my butt. Tim chuckles a bit and helps me up by the shoulders.

"How long have you been in here?" George asks, a hint of concern on his face. I shoot him a venomous scowl and reply, "Long enough." The other coaches exchange glances as I pick up my shoes. "I heard you, talking about looking up my skirt, being gross about my body, just ..." I sigh as I start for the door.

"Look, I just want to go. I just want to forget about everything I just heard and - woah!" I slip backwards again, this time Tim catches my fall, his strong arms wrapped around me.

"Nuh - uh, no way." Tim replies as he spins me around to face him. "We caught you sneaking around, off hours, in the men's locker room. There's a lot of expensive equipment in here ... pads, helmets; what, were you stealing?" The other coaches gives Tim a quizzical look, and he waves them off.

Indignantly, I push his arms off of me. "No! Why would I do that?! What could I possibly gain from some old smelly equipment?"

Steve chimes in, obviously understanding the angle Tim was working. "I don't know, you tell us. Were you looking for some old smelly equipment? Maybe some jock straps to smell. Sounds perverted, what if the student body found out about your ... fetish?" Steve smiled with a devilish grin. I stare at him incredulously.

George stood by the entrance to the shower, arms folded. He was looking at me, as if I was a piece of meat. I glance down at myself, and see my wet uniform plastered to my skin, showing more of my stomach and thighs than usual. I return his gaze.

"How old are you, Vanessa?" George asks, an ominous air about him. I nervously stroke a strand of hair and put it behind my ears. "Ermm... eighteen." I should've lied, but I didn't.

The men chuckle, as I glance around, shifting my feet nervously. "Oh yeah?" George says, pulling out his keys from his pocket. "When did you turn eighteen?"

I glare at him. "Day before yesterday." George looks at the other coaches, and with a knowing smirk, flips his keys in the air and starts to whistle cheerfully as he went to the entrance of the locker room. I hear the key enter the lock and click. That click seemed to echo through the locker room louder than anything else.

Tim steps closer behind me, much closer than what was comfortable. "You know, Vanessa, you might be in a lot of trouble." I feel his hand graze the back of my thigh, just below my cheek. I shudder, and begin to cry.

"There, there," Steve says as he approaches me from the front. "We can work this out. You don't have to cry. Here, let's help you relax, then we'll talk it over. Hey, George?"

"Already on it!" He calls out as he comes around the corner with a bottle of Jameson in hand. He pours some into a small Dixie cup and passes it to Steve.

He turns to me and offers the drink. I've never had whiskey before. In fact, I have never been drunk. The most I've had was a sip of champagne at a wedding, but other than that, nothing. Steve sensed my hesitation. "It will help you relax, V. Can i call you V? Take this and we'll come up with a solution to our predicament.

I stare at him, nostrils flared and my fists balled up. I see right through his charade. I yelp when Tim reaches down and roughly grabs a handful of my ass. "Drink it." He states with a serious tone.

He continues to squeeze my ass as I shakily reach for the cup. I swirl the contents nervously as Steve nods. I first take a sip and sputter and cough. "Ugghhh, woah! It's awful!" "That's because you have to down it, V! Try it again."

I take the cup and swill it back. It burns as it goes down my throat. Steve tops it off as I stare at him incredulously. "Just one more, Vanessa." I drink it all at once and throw down the Dixie cup, still glaring into Steve's eyes.

Tim releases his grip on my cheek and chuckles. George rejoins the group as the three grown men stand facing me, arms crossed. I try to match their intimidation, but start to shiver uncontrollably from the wetness of my clothes.

Tim speaks up. "Where do you want to go to college, Vanessa?" I look at him, confused at the question. I start to feel a strange buzz in my head. "Uhm, I don't know. I'd like a UC ... but, that's expensive."

"What about cheer? You want to keep doing that?" Tim asks, pacing back and forth.

"Well, yeah. But it's hard to get in the better schools. Our cheer team doesn't place that high."

They laugh. "Girl, you have everything it takes to be a good cheerleader. You're gorgeous, you're athletic, you really have what it takes. And I have connections. Tell me, what do you think about Stanford?"

I gulp nervously. Stanford was my dream school, but I didn't have the money, grades, or cheer team status to get in. "I uhh ... I really like it."

Tim purses his lips and nods knowingly. "It's a good school. What if I told you, I could get you in? Full ride. Right into the cheer squad?"

My mouth opens. That sounded ... amazing! But I couldn't buy it. I continue to stare at him wordlessly.

"Because you see, my coach, back in my football days, is now the dean of the athletic department. And, he owes me a favor. I could call in that favor, guarantee your full ride scholarship ... but, the thing is, you've got to earn it."

I bite my lip, and draw my finger along it in thought. My lip felt funny, almost numb and tingly. In fact, my whole body felt that way. I couldn't think clearly. "My head, I ... feel funny."

The three men chuckle as they approach me. "She's a lightweight! Have you ever drank before?" Steve asks.

I shake my head no. George looks around and says, "wow, you really are a good girl."

Tim, who was standing directly in front of me, takes my chin in his fingers. "So, how about it, V? Want to earn that scholarship?" I weakly nod yes, a tear dripping down my face, mixing with the water droplets from the shower. "What do I have to do?"

George turns on the adjacent shower head. "First things first, Vanessa. You're cold. Get out of those wet clothes and take a nice hot shower."

I nod gratefully as Steve passes me a towel. I hook it on and walk to the shower. The water is already nice and warm. I turn around, halfway expecting to have some privacy. Then I realize; they want to watch me shower.

"Are ... are you going to watch me?" I ask sheepishly. The three of them laugh and tom says, "Yeah. Yeah, we're going to watch you."

*okay, this is not so bad* I think to myself. *i just strip down for them, they watch me take a shower, and they let me go.* The scholarship crosses my mind. I sincerely doubt it exists, but what other choice do I have? There was only one way out of this.

The three men confer with each other. I saw them gesturing to me, whispering under their breath. I stand there, arms crossed on my chest, shivering. I think about the three men just watching me as I shower. Leering at my butt, probably my breasts too. I want to get this over with.

"So, should I, like, start or something?" They turn to me, and George breaks from the group, nods to the other coaches, and stands by my shower head. "Be our guest!" He retorts.

I turn to face the other two men and bite my lip. I trace my thumbs along the waistband of my skirt and start to pull down.

"Nope." George says. He pulls me under the warm water. "You're already wet, undress under the water."

I stumble slightly, a little woozy from the whiskey. I resume pulling down my skirt, careful to leave my booty shorts on. As it slides over my hips, I let it fall down, and bracing against the wall, I kick it off with one foot.

"Good," says Tim. "Now, turn around, place your hands on the wall, look back at us, and shake your ass."

I do as he says. Standing straight up, I turn around and gently shake it. George laughs and very suddenly blasts the cold water from the shower. I jump and squeal!

"AHHH! Cold! Why?" I shiver under the water as he warms it back up.

"Like Tim said, you've got to earn this." Steve says. "Arch your back. Bend at the waist. Stick your ass out and sway it back and forth. Put on a show! I know you do it in the mirror at home." He winks at me.

He wasn't wrong. I know I'm beautiful. Even though I'm popular, I'm very shy with the guys. I'm much more conservative than most girls my age ... old fashioned, even. I always believed in the dream of finding a soul mate, and getting married. Every time I danced seductively in my mirror, I imagined doing it for him ... not these creeps.

I do as he says. I close my eyes as I sway back and forth. I gyrate my hips around in a circle, spread my legs then dip down low until my butt touches my ankles, before coming back up again. The men stare wordlessly at me as I continue to dance.

I feel so different. My buzz from the whiskey makes everything so hazy. I turn back around, and slowly remove my cheerleading top. All I'm wearing is my sports bra and booty shorts. I keep dancing, swaying back and forth. I try to imagine how a stripper would move.

*Is that all I am to them? Just a stripper?*

They continue to stare at me, and I reach up and grab at my sports bra. Turning red, I pull it off over my head, and let it fall to the ground.

The guys' mouth hung open. Tim whispers, "holy shit!" Greg comes around and stares at me. "Best. Rack. I've seen."

I blush and look down. He wasn't wrong. I knew I had amazing breasts. I was fortunate enough to develop early, and I developed perfect, shapely, full c cup breasts that caught many an eye. My nipples are small and perky, and I feel a rush of pride in the midst of my shame.

I look back up. The three man are staring at me expectantly. I continue my seductive dance as I run my hands up and down my wet body. Swaying my hips back and forth, I take my breasts into my hands and play with my nipples. They are perky and hard, and I let out a soft gasp as I surprise myself with the sensation. I continue with my show, crouching low again, lowering my hands over my abs. My knees are spread apart, pointing to the sides of me. I see their eyes drift down to the imprint of my pussy. They chuckle and start talking amongst one another.bite my lip nervously as I watch them conferring with one another. Tim looks at me and motions me over.

"Come here." I get up and timidly take a step backwards, towards the wall. I yelp as George blasts some more icy water on me and I fall to my knees. I sputter and shiver as the water cascades over my face. George slowly turns it off, as I kneel there, arms crossed under my chest, I notice that I am displaying my breasts even more fully than before by cradling them in my arms.

George comes up behind me and lifts me up under my arms. As I stumble to my feet and regain balance, I feel him slip his hands further in front of me. I gasp as he aggressively squeezes my breasts and pulls me into him from behind.

"Ahh, no! What are you doing?!" I cry out as he squeezes them together roughly. He laughs as I clasp my hands in protest over his. As I pull at his hands, he quickly reaches up and slaps me in the face! Not hard, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks. I stand there in dazed amazement, nursing my slightly red cheek as he continues his barrage on my breasts.

"Mmmmfph! Ow! You're hurting me!" I squirm under his rough embrace as George pinches my nipples, rolling them in between his fingers. Thankfully, Tim calls out to George in a deep voice.

"Bring her here, man." Tim motions us over as George walks us to him. As George releases me, I look back and glare at him coldly, before a shudder runs through my body. Tim, standing in front of me, begins tracing his hands over the outline of my naked torso. First, he starts at my neck. There is a mixture of force and gentleness as he caresses my neck, gently wrapping his thumbs around. I whimper as he squeezes gently. Tim was much more intimidating than George, and i look away, tears in my eyes. Just as quickly, he releases my neck and rubs his hands down my shoulders. His strong hands push down, massaging my them. My eyes drift shut slightly as I let out a shaky sigh.

He runs his fingers along my spine, massaging my back muscles as he continues his journey of exploration lower. Almost enraptured, I lean back and softly place a hand on his chest, as he traces the small of my back. I close my eyes and -

"Whoa- uhhhm ... what are you doing?" Tim slips his fingers down under my waistband, his index finger following the line of my crack. I stutter shakily as I feel it press in between my cheeks. "I'm ... err, I - not ... not, I just - oh!" He presses more firmly, intruding further between my ass crack. I tense up. Sensing my hesitation, his hand slides to the side, squeezing my bare ass cheek underneath my shorts. "Ha-oh ... ahhhhh ..." I moan as he massages my cheek.

He slips his hand out and takes a step back. I stand there for a moment, shaking. I've been humiliated and groped by these men, and as Tim and George joined Steve at the bench along the wall, I breathe a sigh of relief. *They're done with me. The got what they wanted.* I turn back to the shower and take the towel, clasping it around me to hide my naked chest. I bend down to pick up my sports bra.

"Where do you think you are going?" Steve calls out. I turn back around and stammer, "I-I ... I thought you were, like, done, with me." The three of them chuckle, and Tim steps up and pulls the towel off. I instinctively cover up. "Put your hands at your sides." Steve orders. I do it, shifting nervously from side to side.

Tim, Steve, and Greg sit on the bench as I stand before them. "You know how to make out, right?" Tim asks, taking the bottle of Jameson. I nod. He takes a swig and doesn't swallow, and motions me over to him.

I step in front of him, and he pulls me in aggressively for a kiss. I moan as our lips meet. His strong arms wrap around me as I straddle him, knees on the bench. He pushes some of the whiskey into my mouth, which i swallowed. I felt his tongue exploring my mouth, and I let out an involuntary moan. My breathing quickens as his hands move from my back to my ass. He squeezes me like before, this time with both hands. It surprisingly feels good.

"Ohhhhhh ..." my voice trails off as Tim leans me back and sucks on one of my nipples. As soon as his tongue dances over it, I yelp. "AHHH! Ooohhhh, mmmmm."

It feels good. Really good. I've never felt like this before. Tim moved to my other nipple and sent a similar jolt through me. I find myself caressing his shaved head as I bask in the moment.

Just as quickly as it began, Tim let my nipple pop out of his mouth and he passed me to Steve.

I stood in front of him, waiting for direction. Steve was physically fit, like Tim, but a little bit more on the lean side. He turns me around and lowers my still clothed ass onto his lap. He reaches around and pulls me into him by holding my breasts. He cups each with his hand and whispers in my ear, "dance for me."

I've never done a lap dance before, but I try my best. I dance like I did under the water. He obviously wants a little more contact, and he pulls me fully onto his lap. I straddle my legs around his, and bracing myself with my arms on the bench, I lean forward and grind on his lap.

I can hear him panting as I gyrate my hips on him. I also feel a growing bulge as I continue to dance. I let out a slight gasp and pause as I glance back to him. He smiles knowingly and smacks my ass, eliciting a yelp from me. I worry that these men wanted more than groping.

George stands in front of me, whiskey in hand. "Here. Another sip." He feeds me the bottle and I try to take a small swig, but he keeps tilting it towards me. I take a solid two gulps before George pulls back. "Can't have you getting sick on us! How do you feel?"

I look up groggily into his face. "I, uhmmm, I feel ... mmmmstrange ..."

George squats down in front of me and looks me in the eye. He is slightly older than the other two, and not in as good of shape. He grabs me by the hair and kisses me deeply, almost desperately. I feel his tongue swirling around my mouth.

In the meantime, I'm still grinding on Steve. I can feel his groping hands pulling at my breasts as his bulge gets harder. I feel so violated.

George pulls back, and I feel Steve gently push me off of him to my knees. As George stands up, I can see a bulge in his pants as well.

"Tell me Vanessa," he asks. Have you ever seen a dick before?" My eyes close as I fully realize the direction the night was headed. Reluctantly, I nod. "Probably a boys penis, am I right?" I nod again. "So, what, how big do you think it was? Show me with your hands."

I think back to my one and only sexual experience. I knew from stories that he was smaller than average. I placed my hands about 3, maybe 4 inches apart and displayed my measurement to him.

"So, did you fuck him?" Groggily, I nod my head, then frown and shake it. "I uhhmm ... he entered me, and he uhmmm, he ..."

"He what? Say it." George became more stern.

"I, uh, I don't know how to put ..."

"Fucking say it!" He says forcefully, yanking on my hair a bit as I kneel in front of him.

"AHH!" I cry out, a tear dripping down my face. "Well?" He asks. I look up at him, defeated. My mouth hangs open, as I work up the courage to say the words.

"He popped my ... cherry."

"Oh, he did, did he? With what?"

"He popped my cherry with his dick." My lip quivers in embarrassment as I look down.

"How long did he last?"

"Uhmm, not long. He didn't even fully enter me -"

"That's not what I asked." George says, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

"Fifteen, maybe twenty seconds?"

Greg pulls back a bit and laughs. "That's it? And you haven't had anyone else?"

I lower my eyes further and shake my head back and forth. George shrugs and looks back at the other guys. "Virginal enough for me."

"So ... did you suck him off?" George asks, pulling at my hair enough for my to lift my eyes.

"Umm, what?"

"Blowjob. Did you give him a blowjob?"

I pause and answer. "Well, no ... not him."

George chuckles and looks at me inquiringly, tugging at my hair as if expecting an explanation.

"I mean, I've practiced before. You know, on, uhh, fruit and stuff. Carrots, uhmmm, my toothbrush ..." my voice trails off as I see George holding back laughter. He looks at the other guys, who were well behind my view, and they all chuckled.

"What did I tell you?" George reports. "Pent up sexual tension." With that, George begins to pull on his zipper. I stare wordlessly, in a state of shock and resignation, as he pulls his pants down and his dick springs free. Wide eyed, I stare at this grown man's dick swinging in front of my face. It wasn't much longer than my first partner's dick. In fact, it was pretty comparable. He had maybe an inch longer, perhaps just shy of five inches. It looked different. There was curly pubic hair, and a number of veins running up and down it. The head was a purple hue, and a drop of clear fluid was collecting at the tip.

"Well, what do you think?" George swings his member back and forth close to my face. A drop of the fluid swings off and lands on my shoulder.

I look up at him quizzically. He strokes his throbbing dick once, squeezing out some more fluid and smearing it on my forehead. I could smell his salty, masculine scent.

"What are you going to do right now?" Even in the whiskey induced fog, I know his game. And I have to play along. I resign to my fate, as I take my finger, swipe off some of the fluid on his cock, and taste it with my tongue.

"I'm going to suck your hard cock."

A gleeful cheer comes from the two behind me. "There she is!" Exclaims Tim, as him and Steve exchange a high five.

George takes the base of his dick and guides it to my lips. I close my eyes tightly as my mouth makes contact with the tip. I slowly slide forward as his head fully parts my lips. He leans back his head and moans.

It tastes salty. I tilt my head back and pull backwards, running my tongue on the underside of his dick. I feel a shudder as it runs along the edge of the head.

*Okay, the head is the most sensitive. I'll focus on that.*

I twirl my tongue around him, while slightly bobbing my head. I thought of how sexy I looked when I blew a banana in the mirror. I run my tongue between his foreskin, and tease the head all around its edge. He jumps and moans with pleasure.

*He likes that. Keep doing that.*

I continue my pace as I feel his dick swell in my mouth. George begins to slightly thrust forward, and I could feel him going deeper in my mouth.

"Mmmmmph ... mmmmm ... mmmmmphhh." I moan, with a mouthful of dick. I feel so violated, so vulnerable ... but, a part of me, well, I can't say I enjoy this, but ... I'm intrigued. I place my hands gently on his thighs as he begins to thrust forward with a rhythm. I feel his shaft sliding in my mouth as the ridges of his head rubs toward the back. I frown a bit and pull my head off of him a little bit, yet he responds by forcefully pulling my head deeper!

"Wheeehh! - *cough* " my throat makes a gagging sound as his head presses firmly against the back of my throat. I make a wretching sound as I cough and sputter, thick spit shooting out of the side of my mouth. I angle my forehead against his body to try to get relief, but he begins to thrust into me!

"Gluh - gluh - gluh - gluh" my throat makes a sound each time he pulls back, and he cuts it off every time he pushes forward. Tears are running down my face from the intensity of a dick in my throat. I slap his thighs desperately, trying to get him to stop. He finally relents, allowing me to fall back to the bench. I gasp for air and wipe my face, as I look at him, wide eyed, with an expression of betrayal. I cough and sputter a few times, a thick line of spit coming from my nose.

"Now jack it off." George states, placing his legs on either side of me. I reach up with one hand and hesitantly grab his dick, my own spit draping around my forearm. I'm still panting for breath, as he continues to advance closer to my face while my hand strokes him. I cringe as he thrusts, trying to increase my rhythm, and his sloppy dick pushes out through my fist and pokes my face. "Suck it again." George growls. Reluctantly, I slide my lips over his head once more, this time keeping my hand on his shaft. He continues to pump harder into me, but this time, I keep him from going too deep. Thankfully, he seems satisfied with my hand in front of my mouth, stroking him completely.

George then removes himself from my mouth, stepping back and grinning as he grasps his wet dick. I wipe my chin as Steve speaks up.

"Alright, my turn" calls out Steve, who was still seated on the bench, now next to me. I look over and gasp. He has removed all of his clothing, and was reclined on the bench. Resting against his fit abs was a long and straight dick, pulsing and twitching every second. I stare at it in amazement. Steve smiles and says "you like it?"

The truth was, I kind of did. He was longer than George, maybe above 6 inches. But it was more than that. His dick was very ... attractive. It appeared to be well trimmed, and it was very sleek and smooth. He had nice, shapely balls draping down beneath his appealing member. He motions me over, and I stand up - only to freeze in my tracks.

Tim was also naked. His muscles rippled as he moved around. He watched my reaction as I stared, wide eyed with my mouth open. Between his legs, was an incredibly large penis. Maybe 9 inches in length, and thick. Very thick! It curved to the left a bit, and bounced with every pulse. It wasn't a pretty cock; not like Steve's, but it was definitely intimidating. He watched me, like a tiger knowingly watching its prey.

"Hey, Vanessa." Steve pulls me forward. Guiding me in front of him, he scoots forward and starts to suck on my breasts. "Ohhh ... ahhh." I moan as he pops one nipple out and sucks on the other. He seems gentle, much more than George. Even more so than Tim. Tim felt so strong, yet there was a gentlemanly, if not manipulative, way that Steve had to his movements.

I feel his hands run down my sides as he hooks onto my waistband and tugs at my shorts. I whimper with fear and pull away, but Steven is insistent. He stands up and forcefully yanks them down, just to my mid thigh level. He steps back as each guy cranes his neck to look at my exposed bald pussy. Steven lets out a low whistle, and chuckles in excitement while shaking his head in disbelief.

"What?" I ask, turning red in the face. I look down and gasp in surprise: strands of clear, thick pussy juice are dripping from my vagina, all the way down to my shorts. I reach down and scoop some out, and investigate the fluid by rubbing it in my fingers. It's slippery to the touch.

"Now ... THAT is the wettest pussy I've ever seen." Steve watches as I play with the fluid that is now draping down my fingers with embarrassed wonder.

"Taste it." I look at him in disbelief. He continues to watch me, and I slowly slide my finger in my mouth, wide eyed and embarrassed. I taste ... strange. Not like George's dick. It's a musky, yet sweet taste.

Steve leans forward, and without much warning, swipes a finger through my pussy lips. I jump and let out a dismayed yelp. He removes his finger nonchalantly and tastes my juices for himself. I hold back tears as he smiles. "Tastes great," he states, as he leans forward and reaches out to me again. I wince as his hand slides between my legs, his middle finger gently parting my pussy lips. I softly grasp at his wrist, but lack the courage to pull him away. Here I was, alone with three older men, having my innocence stolen from me. My shorts remain on my hips, allowing me to only spread them slightly apart as he continues to slide his finger along my pussy.

"You know," Steve says. "I've had my eyes on you for a while." I grimace and whimper as I feel his finger prod a little deeper between the pulsing lips of my pussy. "You're the prize of the school. Good thing we got to you first. You know, I bet you wandered into the locker room looking for a man."

"No ... I ..." I breathe in sharply as I feel his finger slide in slowly into my pussy. I tighten my grip on his arm.

"I bet you were even playing with yourself while you were eavesdropping on us, weren't you?" I gasp as I feel his thumb gently press and rub my clitoris.

"No! I - unnnghh!" I let out a guttural and unlady-like grunt and bear down as his stimulating thumb sends shudders through my body.

"Yeah you were. Admit it. You came in here looking for some dick." I push his arm back and pull my hips backward. "No! I didn't -"

In response, he reaches around and clasps my ass tightly, his fingers reaching into my crack and clutching me closely. His other hand is still resting against my pussy, my juices dropping down to his elbow and onto my partially removed shorts.

"If you don't agree with me, I'll just have to have George come back here and take over for me." I glance sideways at George with disdain. He wickedly imitates his clamped fist pushing up and forcing through the fingers of his other clenched hand, laughing as my eyes widened.

I quickly look back and Steve and shake my head. "Well then?"I feel his index finger join his middle, waiting at the entrance to my pussy.

"I ... came in here, looking for dick."

"Oh," he retorts. "Did you find some?"

"Yes." I shudder as his fingers wiggle and my entrance. "Whose?"

"Yours. And his. And ... his." I gulp as I stare once more at Tim's big member.

"That's right, Vanessa. So, do you like having your pussy fingered?" I softly nod my head. "Tell me what you like about it." He slides back into me, this time with two fingers. I gasp and squeeze his wrist once more, this time inviting him in.

"It ... mmmmm ... it feels good."

"Tell me more detail." Steve states in a warning tone.

"I like it ... I like it when you rub my ... clit." Steve resumes rubbing it with his thumb as I release his arm and clutch desperately to his shoulders. He begins to curl his fingers deep inside of me - and I lean further forward, my hands on the wall as I start moaning uncontrollably.

"Mmmmm! Ohhhhhh, oh, uhh, uuuuuhgnn!" Steve's pace quickens as he continues fingering me. "You like that?"

"Yes! Yes, oooh, it feels good."

"Should I stop?" Steve asks mockingly.

I start bucking my hips with his rhythm. I feel ashamed, but the unexperienced pleasures washing through my body are irresistible. I spread my knees wider, feeling my booty shorts around my thighs pull tightly against me. My legs begin to shake and quiver. My head lulls back and forth as my eyes flutter.

"Are you going to come for me, Vanessa?" I am almost horizontally leaning on Steve's shoulder, my breasts brushing his back to the rhythm of his arm. He reaches around with his free hand and pulls my waist against him. He continues to press on a sweet spot inside of me, previously unreached. My feet slide out further behind me, and I am unable to stop moaning.

Steve increases his pace to a furious rhythm. I can hear his fingers sloshing in my pussy as an indescribable feeling edges closer to me. "Ugh! Uhhhh ... Eh!! Mmmm! Ahhhh!" I feel wave after wave of what felt like the rush of a thousand shivers crash through me. My hands slide down the wall and I desperately grasp at the edges of the bench as Steve's fingers intuitively thrust to the throes of my very first orgasm!

"OOOOOH! MMMMPH! Huh ... huuuhhhh ... mmmm ..." I relax my tense body and slump down as Steve guides me past the bench and onto the floor. He gets up, bends over and wipes his wet hand on my backside.

"Get up. Come here. Lose the shorts and lie down."

Still panting heavily, I roll gingerly onto my back. Steve is standing over me, his impressive dick jutting straight out from his body. He reaches down his hand and grabs mine, pulling me up to my feet. I stagger unsteadily, my knees still weak and quivering.Lie down. I'm going to fuck you now." I blink with a sense of bewilderment. This couldn't be happening!

I nervously rub my arm and bite my lip. I don't know what to do! I'm scared, intimidated by these older men taking advantage of me. But yet, i feel this yearning desire in me. Whenever I look at Steve's dick, I feel a strange ache inside of me that I can't quite describe. Slowly, I lower my shorts past my knees, as they noisily slap on the ground. I stand before these men, completely naked.

"Turn around; slowly. Show off for us." I oblige the request, and I slowly turn around and bend over, at the waist, with my back arched. I look to my right: George stands at the entrance to the showers, slowly stroking his dick. To my left, I see Tim. His dick is now fully erect, laying on his chest. It goes well past his belly button.

I turn back to Steve. He motions me over and guides me to lay on my back. I lay down, my head closer to Tim's side of the bench, though I can't see him. Steven straddles the bench and positions himself between my legs.

I take in a deep breath. I shudder when I feel his smooth head slide up and down my sensitive, throbbing pussy. "Ooooooohhh ..." I moan as unique and intense pleasures wash over me. he brushes his dick like a paint brush, up and down my slit. It's almost too much sensation so soon after an orgasm ... my first one at that. Almost.

"Mmmmmmmm - OHH!" I gasp as I feel the head slide in. It doesn't hurt ... but an intense shiver crawls up my spine. Steve holds up my legs like a 'V' and slowly but steadily advances his shaft into me.

"Haaah ... aaaaAAAaah ... OOOH, MY GO- MMMMMPH!" I cry out as he slowly slides into me, inch by inch. The wetness of my pussy allows him to enter with ease, but the fullness! The tightness!

I grunt loudly as I feel his body press against mine, his dick reaching the untouched places in my pussy. I grit my teeth as he holds it there, then begins to gently thrust into me.

"GRRRRAHH! OH! AHHH! Oh ... oh ..." I feel more used to his dick, as his rate increases. "Huh ... mmmm ... mmm-OH! ... mmm, yeah, ugh, mmm, mmmhmmm..." I wrap my legs around Steve as he continues thrusting. I ... think I like this. No, I really like this ... but ... this is so wrong!

"WOOOAHH-AH-AH-AH!" Steve rubs his fingers on my clitoris, and all thoughts of regret leave my foggy mind. "Oh, yeah! This feels, OH, this is ... GAAAAAHHHHH!"

Steve increases his rhythm, and I can hear the slapping sounds of our bodies colliding. I feel his balls smacking against my asshole, as he leans back and pumps into me, finger on my clit.

"SHIIIIIIT! SOMETHINGS -AHHHH!" I feel a rush deep within me as wave after wave of pleasure crash over me once more. My mouth is wide open - but I can't breathe. I can't scream. My whole body tenses up as Steve grunts and pumps my pussy with his dick. As I continue to convulse, Steve starts grunting and moaning, and he thrusts mightily into me, scooting me forward on the bench each time.

As my second orgasm subsides, I realize that Steve is about to cum inside me. "Wait! No no no no NOOOOO!" It's too late. I prop myself up with my elbows and try to swing my leg over. I end up with my legs together on one side as he blows his load inside of my pussy. Tim comes from behind me and holds me down.

"Oh, no ... you came in my pussy!" I whine as Steve, panting and spent, continues to thrust his dick into me. He flips my legs back to the 'V' position and slowly slides it in and out of me. Tim is holding my shoulders, and he pushes down to make me flat on my back again.

Tim advances on the bench, and as I stare up on the ceiling, I see his massive cock fill my field of view. He keeps going, until his balls are directly over my mouth. His cock leaves a streak of precum from my neck to my chest.

"Here's what you're going to do. Your going to lick my balls, and press together your titties so I can fuck them. Repeat it."

I feel the impressive weight of his dick lying on my chest. Weakly, I mumble, "I'm going to lick your balls ... and press together my, uhm, breasts." I still feel Steve slowly humping me.

"Your what?"

"My ... my titties."

"And why are you going to do that?"

I place my palms on either side of my breasts and hold his massive member in between with my fingertips. I feel some reluctance and inhibition give way as I loudly say, "So you can fuck my perfect, sexy, 18 year old titties!" With that, I stick my tongue out and let it graze Tim's balls as he pumps his dick in between my breasts.

Steve, finally spent, slides out and sits back on the bench. Tim reaches down and scoops my wetness, along with cum, into his hand, and he spreads it on my chest. Soon after, i feel another dick at my pussy entrance. George has taken Steve's place.

George didn't have what Steve had. His dick was smaller, his thrusts were less sensual, and he paid no mind to pleasuring me. As Tim continues to slide is long cock in between my breasts, George speaks up. "What am I doing, Vanessa?"

I stop licking Tim's balls for a moment and say "Having sex with me."

George laughs and spanks me. "Dirtier."

"You're ... fucking me."

"Yeah? I'm fucking you where?" He slaps my ass once more.

"You're fucking my pussy!"

"Mmmhmmm, yes I am. What else can you call it?"

I rack my brain for any dirty words I can remember. "My ... snatch. You're fucking my snatch."

"Yeah, good. What else you got, bitch?"

I inhale deeply, and lick Tim's bouncing balls. "My, cunt. No ... no your cunt. My cunt ... it's yours." I begin to understand what George was looking for. He's a true chauvinist. The way he pounded my face, the way he fucks, the way he talks to me. I have to cater to that, maybe make him finish sooner. I already resign myself to the fact that he will probably cum in me too.

"Pound that cunt. Pound it hard!" I pant as he increases his pace, all the while with Tim in between my breasts. "Take it! Make it yours! Make it ... your hole. Your fuckhole!"

"Yeah!" George begins to thrust in me faster. It feels intense, but not enough to keep me from focusing. I tilt my head out from underneath Tim and look at him. "You like these titties? Huh? You like fucking my perfect little body? Yeah?"

With a final push, George cries out and pulls out of me, to my surprise. He jacks himself off for a moment before blowing his load on my pussy. I feel the warm spurts drape across my pussy lips, as it oozes down past my lips and into my asscheeks.

"Look at our girl!" Exclaims Tim. "She's turning into a freak! Vanessa, get up."

I pause for a moment. George and Steven have already fucked me. Tim was obviously expecting something as well. But he was too big!

I sit up. "Wait, now, let me, uhm, give you a handjob?" I turn around and scoot backwards, away from Tim. "Look, it's just not possible, right? You can't really expect to fit that ... cock ... inside of me. C-can you?"

He continues to follow me. My eyes widen. "No, no, no, please don't ... I don't think I could handle you ... haven't I done enough?" He stand up fully, his dick swinging freely. "You're done when we say you're done."

My lip quivers as I hold back tears. I slide to the edge of the bench, fear in my eyes. Tim grabs a towel, reaches out, and wipes off the cum from my pussy. Looking at it, he then smears the juices on my face. I gasp and look at him incredulously.

That upset me. I lash out and try to kick him. He just laughs and grabs my ankles. The other men grab my arms as I squirmed, and in unison, they quickly flip me over.

"Oof!" I whimper as I land on the hard bench. George stays at my head and keeps me low to the surface. Tim brings my knees together and up underneath me. He pushes down on my upper back, so my ass is jutting out straight in the air. I feel so exposed and open.

"Well, look at that!" Tim exclaims. I try to turn around and see what he was doing, but I couldn't. I hear him slowly spit and feel a drop of saliva running down my ass.

I start to whimper. Tim straddles the bench and leans forward. He uses his two hands to spread my asscheeks some more. I yelp loudly when I feel his tongue lick squarely on my asshole!

"AHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I squirm against the men holding me, but I can't break free. I feel his tongue lick and prod at my virgin asshole. "Oh, no, no no no please stop ..." I cry out, embarrassed. He responds with another lick. I jump slightly. "Ohhhhhhh, please stop." He licks again. I twitch in response.

Tim continues this for several minutes. I started out whimpering, but as time went on, that whimpering turned into moaning. I started to enjoy the unique sensations.

*This feels so ... wrong. But, it does feel kind of good. Mmmmmmm*

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm, yeah." I freeze for a moment as I realize that just came out of my mouth. I blush with embarrassment as I hide my face in the bench. "No, no, noooo ..." my voice trails off into silent sobs.

"Looks like she like this!" states Tim. "Tell us, do you like that?" I shake my head, ashamed. He slaps my ass hard and curtly says, "Don't lie."

I nod my head sheepishly. "Yes. Yes, I like it when you ... uhm, lick my asshole. It ... it feels nice."

Tim nods. "I think she's ready." I cringe at what that could mean. I know he wouldn't try to put it there ... right?

I shudder when I feel the weight of his cock at my entrance. To my momentary relief, he was at my pussy. For a second I thought he was going to try to put it in my ass-

"WHOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHH!!" Any feelings of relief disappear as he presses his dick into me. I reach down and feel his shaft, and I trace the outline of my stretched pussy. He didn't get much more than the head in!

"Whooo ... whoooo ... whooo" I breathe through pursed lips. "It's so, it's so big - OOOOOOHHHH!" I cry out as he rams more into me. He positions himself a little higher, planting a leg down on the bench as he leans in further.

"OH GOD! YOU'RE DICK IS SO FUCKING HUGE! I CANT! I CANT TAKE ANY MORE! I-"

*GASP!*

I let out a deep, throaty gasp as he slides a finger into my asshole. George lets go of me and I raise my head, now on all fours. I can't breathe. I can't move. My mouth hangs open, and my eyes are squinted shut.

*GASP!*

Tim is fucking my pussy with a regular rhythm. I still can't bring myself to breathe, the sensations are too much! I manage to lift up a hand from the bench and slam it back down. Again. And again.

*GASP!*

"OOO - OOHH- ... AGGHHHH!" I manage to croak out as Tim stretches my pussy and finger fucks my ass. Finding my voice again, I start to make a long and constant wail. His dick was hurting me. His finger overwhelmed me. I look and see Steve and George to the left of me, both jacking off to the sight.

Tims barrage quickens, and I collapse fully onto the bench. Tim cries out and removes his dick from my pussy, as well as his finger. I could hear him jacking off onto me, and after a moment I felt load after load spurt over me, from my ass to my hair, and everywhere in between.

My pussy throbbed from the beating. I reach for the bottle of whiskey, and take a long swig. I cough a bit, but soon feel a heavy haze drift over me. Everything became blurry, and I just couldn't focus. I just laid there.

"Look at that!" George exclaims. "She wants more!"

The guys weren't done with me. As I lay down on the bench, Steve comes behind me and lets my legs fall to the floor. I just lie there, limp. I hear him spit and then feel a throbbing penis pressing against my asshole. With the whiskey and my exhaustion, I can't resist. I cringe at the discomfort as he slides his dick into me, inch by inch.

"Mmmmfph! Oooohhhhh ... my ass ... ohhhhh ..." I weakly cry out. I lay there, in a fog, as he fucks my hole, for, how long? Minutes? I reach back and grasp at his dick. He's only pushed in half of it?!

Steve props himself up over me. His cock, still in my ass, is pointing down. He reaches around my hips, locks his arms, and pulls upwards. I feel my hips lift off the bench as he sinks his dick fully into me!

"OH GOD, my ass!" He continues to lift me up until he is holding my full weight. I lean back against him and balance against the wall. Tim steps in front and watches, as I am fully exposed to him. With his fingers kept together like a salute, he tabs my pussy sloppily back and forth, eliciting screams from my lips.

Steve then sits down and keeps his cock in my asshole. He lays back as I sprawl against him, unable to get up. I watch as my tits bounce back and forth as he pounds my poor hole. I cry out again as I feel my pussy get invaded. Tim enters between my legs once more and I cry out loudly as he stretches me. I feel so full!

Everything is going so hazy ... I think I had too much to drink. Or maybe not enough. I can hear my screams, but they almost don't register as mine. I look down. I see my pussy being pummeled, and I feel my asshole being stretched. But it doesn't hurt as much.

My hand starts massaging my clitoris. "Ohhhhh ... oooooh ... ahhhhhh... oooooooooooohhhh!"

My moans sound like - moans of pleasure? My other hand goes to my left nipple. I play with it. I love the tingling feeling it gives me. Steve thrusts into me. I feel so ... good? No, good is definitely not the right word. But ... I feel something. Something intense.

Tim continues to fuck my pussy as I rub my clit. "Ohhhhhh, yeah. Mmmmmm ... mmmhhhmmmm. Oh! Ooohh! OOOF!" I feel so used, but, I don't want it to stop. I start grinding my hips up and down, feeling the movement of the cocks deep inside me.

George stands at my head and pulls my hair. I have just enough time to prepare as he slides his dick into my throat, pressing against me and thrusting.

"Gluh-gluh-gluh-gluh." I continue to masturbate as I feel George tense up. He presses into me as I choke on his load. Cum drips out of the side of my mouth as he finishes in me.

I feel a wave of sensation forming deep within me. I moan more frequently as the feelings grow stronger.

"MMMM! MMMMHHMMMM! I'm goin' to ... cum soon, I ..." my voice trails off as I continue to rub my clit. Tim cries out and pulls out of me, blowing his load on my stomach and chest. He then slides two, maybe three fingers into my pussy. Pushing on my pelvis, he thrashes them up and down in my pussy.

"IM ... ITS HAPPENING, OH FUCK! OOOOHHH, FUCK! AHHHHHHHHHH!!" An intense, indescribable wave of sensation washed over me. Pussy juice gushes out of me and onto the bench. I shake violently as my convulsive orgasm wracks my whole body. I could feel Steve blow his load in my ass as he joins me in the throes of orgasm.

Then I black out.

***

I wake up. The very first thing I notice is my splitting headache. "Owwww." I hold my head in my hands and squint my eyes open. Something had dried over my left eyelid and kept it shut. I rub my right eye and groggily look around.

"What, where ... was that real?" I notice that I am still in the men's locker room. I sit up fully and wince at the soreness of my ass.

Shakily, I stand to my feet. "Hello?" There's no answer. I stumble to the nearest mirror and look at myself. I was fully naked, and I had dried cum everywhere. My hair was matted, and a thick glob had dried over my left eye. I turn on the sink and wash my face.

I step back and examine myself more fully. Cum had dried on my breasts, my stomach, my back, and my ass. I turn around and notice distinct hand marks where I was spanked. I lean forward and spread my cheeks. My asshole looks stretched and loose. I whimper and delicately lift my leg onto the sink to examine my pussy. It is red and puffy, and feels stretched out. I can see into both holes.

I return to the locker room. All signs of the men's presence was gone ... save a camcorder on a tripod in the center of the room. I didn't remember that there!

There is a note attached. It reads:

Vanessa,

We got the whole night on tape. G set it up when he locked the door. I'm sending in your 'highlight footage' to the dean at Stanford. Trust me, he's already eager to provide you a full ride ... with a few ... conditions. He'll be in contact with you.

As for us, this never happened. The tape stays with me; if you rat us out, we'll leak it. I did leave some pictures on there for you to see. We had some more fun when you were out.

You were a phenomenal fuck!

I turn on the camcorder and scroll through the history. There's a few images. The first one is a picture of the whisky bottle neck stuck in my pussy. It appears that they had poured the rest on my body.

I scroll next. Steve was pumping his cock between my ass cheeks, smearing cum in my crack. I'm lying there, slumped across the bench.

I feel a sense of disgust at the next picture. George is sitting on the bench, and he had positioned me upside down so that my legs were draped on his shoulders. Only my shoulders were on the ground, and my arms were sprawled to my side as my face appears contorted in pain. One of his arms was wrapped around my waist, and he had worked in all five of his other fingers into my pussy, with the base of the thumb slightly visible. I shakily reach down and ease four of my own fingers into me. I wonder if I will ever be as tight as I was before last night.

I reach back and tenderly caress my ass at the sight of the last one. Somehow, Tim managed to shove his dick into my asshole! The entirety of his shaft is buried in me as he pulls my arms backwards in doggystyle. I appear to be awake, as I am standing on my own, but I can't remember it at all.

I shut the camcorder off and look for my clothes ... they're all gone. I'm too tired to be upset. I look around and find an large, old, dusty jersey. I slip it on, and the neck almost slips over my shoulders. I drape it around me and head for the door. It is unlocked. I peek out into the hallway. No one seemed to be around. The first rays of morning light were shining down. I walk out, heading for my car.

I smile as I feel a little cum leak out of me and drip on the floor. "College, here I come!"

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