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#force yourself to get better everyday!
xob1tchs · 9 months
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just thinking abt older miguel x younger reader (smut 17+)
age gap! dark concept!
𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚.
you’re his best friend’s daughter, who he watched grow from an awkward teen to a young woman.
until puberty hit, and everything changed. no longer wanting to be around miguel or your father, prancing around like you’re better than that – than hanging out with family.
you grew up much faster than he’d hoped you would and sooner rather than later he’s loosing you to parties and dumb college boys (not like you were ever actually his) that he obviously thinks aren’t good enough.
no more wanting to spend Friday evenings snuggled on the couch, watching a scary movie. no more splashing around in his pool, shrieking out when he tosses you from the ladder. it all came to a stop.
you smiling at him or wishing him a good day coming to a halt, and he begins hearing your father complain of your behavior almost everyday. he’s getting sick of it, wishing you’d just be a good girl again. he tried to tell your father that you need punished, but he’s not having it – he swears it won’t do any good. that you’ve grown up too much.
miguel isn’t oblivious to what a young woman in college does. he was your age once, he knows. knows that your frame filled out, and that your legs grew longer, eyes got shiner, pouty lips got poutier. he just tries not to think too hard about how other men know that as well. and don’t get miguel wrong either – he feels like a creep for staring too long, looking where he shouldn’t. you look up to him.
or atleast you did.
but he’s also not an idiot, and he knows that when he’s not looking at you – you’re looking at him. chewing your lip, thinking things you probably shouldn’t, because that would just be wrong. it would be so so wrong.
it’s miguel who knows that it will do good. a simple plan really, to catch you alone, corner you and scare you into being a better daughter. miguel knows he’s a scary guy, that not even you can see past.
a late evening, one where your father is working late, and you don’t have to study. miguel is going to do it then, slipping in through the front door quietly, padding up the stairs to your bedroom.
that’s when he sees you doing something you definitely shouldn’t be.
your bedroom door is cracked, because you think you’re alone, and it’s just enough for him to see you – pillow lodged between your thighs, face screwed tight in pleasure, hips jumping and squirming. Your shirt is longer than it should be, but it’s caught on the curve of your bare ass, revealing it to his wide eyes.
He knows he should just silently retreat, go home and try to pretend like this hasn’t happened, he really does know it. but he stays put.
in a trance, length growing hard in his boxers with every stupid little incoherent plead you let out, squeaking and whining. you’re begging into the air, please wanna cum, please please. frail frame shaking and twitching. he just can’t seem to stop watching, drool pooling at the back of his throat, swallowing thickly.
you gasp out, thighs clamping tighter around the pillow, clearly approaching an orgasm, but you force yourself to stop, chewing your bottom lip. miguel thinks for a moment that maybe you can see him somehow, but that thought diminishes when you toss the pillow to the floor, falling forward, pressing your face into the mattress, legs spread wide, ass high in the air.
he can’t breathe when he sees it – your soaking pussy, screaming for him, creamy and puffy as if you’ve been at for hours.
you slip two fingers in your hole, moaning out, toes curling. the noises you make when you start thrusting your small fingers in and out, gushy and obscenely loud, make him hot. sweat building at his hairline, cock twitching in his pants.
and as if it can’t get any worse, you say it. what he’d been imagining you do.
“miguel please, need it so bad mi vida” you croon, muffled by the bed sheets, but clear as day in his ears.
“hmmm what does my sweet girl need” he coos, clicking his toungue, sucking a breath between his teeth to suffice the nerves building in his stomach.
you pause, face twisting around to see him as he trudges into your room, glowering down at you with shame. your pussy clenches around your fingers, wetness seeping out around the knuckle, and you whine.
your fingers spread your folds, letting him see your greedy hole as his hands come to spread your cheeks, shuddering at the sight up close.
“want you to fuck me, want it so so bad”
he hums, fingers ghosting over your slit, flicking your clit “since you’re begging so sweetly” he smirks.
you behave better the next day.
𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚. severely unedited! pt.2 here
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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months
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Christian Woman
(König x Nun!Reader)
Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.
A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)
Part 2
You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.
The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.
The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory. 
You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...
But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.
And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus. 
And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…? 
This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you. 
You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.
And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.
While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.
And they're more than enough.
Or at least they should be…
You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.
You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way. 
You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.
You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.
“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”
“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.
Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.
“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”
“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…” 
You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.
“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.
“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”
“...Why not?”
You look at König; he looks straight back.
The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips. 
“I can help,” he grins.
Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home. 
Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.
You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts. 
You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...
But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.
If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night. 
You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.
You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.
They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.
You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.
You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.
Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.
Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…
And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.
It’s not a date, you remind yourself.
It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.
And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…
Can a man of his size even keep quiet?
He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8. 
You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.
“Kätzchen...”
“König…?”
You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on. 
“Here, kitty, kitty…”
You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".
But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…
Could a grown man get any more silly?
You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it. 
SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.
“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.
“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”
You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.
“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens. 
“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”
“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”
“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?” 
You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.
“You’re crazy, did you know that...?” 
“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.” 
“...What’s that?” 
His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.
“You’re cute.”
The whole evening is heavenly. 
It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.
He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one. 
He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.
König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?
You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through. 
You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.
“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?” 
He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.
“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...
“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh. 
“Why not?” 
His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.
He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.
You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.
“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”
“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...
“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”
Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.
And he does want to.
You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.
It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.
You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…
“This is–”
“Inappropriate?”
His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.
The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back. 
It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.
He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.
God… This is better than God…
You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.
You can still turn back if you turn back now…
You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”
He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it. 
You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”
You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.
“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.
“It was a good dream while it lasted...”
The rose withers in your cell.
You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him. 
There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him. 
In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.
God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.
“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world. 
“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.
You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.
The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.
“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?” 
“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap. 
Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being. 
“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”
Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you. 
The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.
“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”
Work, time and prayer do ease the pain. 
They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.
You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one. 
You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.
Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.
And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…
“Kätzchen.” 
A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.
You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves. 
“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.
“Dear God… What happened to you?”
You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground. 
He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?
“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.
You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.
“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.
“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”
“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”
His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance. 
König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe. 
And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need. 
So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. 
It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one. 
When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.
“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”
The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.
“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.” 
You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.
You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.
“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.
“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”
The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.
You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt. 
You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.
You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.
The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.
“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants. 
You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...
And it does make you very happy.
You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size. 
To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood. 
“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”
He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.
“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.
“I missed you too,” you whisper back. 
Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured… 
...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.
“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.
“Someone, who?”
“Someone to hold hands with.”
He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”
You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.
“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”
Ouch.
“I… I don’t know.”
His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.
There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.
“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”
Your heart skips a beat. 
He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose…. 
You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart. 
“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.
“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”
You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.
God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.
He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.
There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.
You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.
“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.
“No I’m not.” 
“Yes, you are.”
A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.
You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.
“Are you crying?”
His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.
He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead. 
“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.” 
You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.
“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.
“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.
In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…
The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.
“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”
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can you write another Matt story? I'm obsessed with your writing!! <3
Manage- M. Sturniolo
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pairing: Secretary!reader x Boss!Matt
classification: smut w/ a plot
warnings: 18+, MDNI, use of y/n, power dynamic, sexual content, suggestive content, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of jealousy, literal sex
summary: You’re Matt’s secretary, in charge of overseeing everything related to his schedule. Everyday when you come into the office he suppresses the urge to take you then and there. When on a work business trip, he can’t hold back anymore.
You loved your job, not because it was your dream job, but because it was easy. You went into work, did what you had to do, and at the end of the day you could go home and disconnect from it entirely. There were some odd days when your boss, Matthew, would call you in your days off or call you from home to ask about something. But, for the most part, you could completely forget about the job once you clocked out.
Just because the job was easy doesn’t mean that there wasn’t rules to be followed. As the boss of a world renowned magazine company, Matt always made sure to enforce them. For example, deadlines had to be met, sales were critical, and the workplace environment was meant to remain professional. He was a strict, straightforward boss and didn’t play when it came to the rules. Another one of his big rules was time management, he hated when people were late.
You were running a little late today, and as the boss’s secretary that was completely unacceptable. You stayed up late last night with an old friend, catching up on life and drinking one too many glasses of wine. Before you knew it, it was midnight and you still weren’t home. By the time you fell asleep it was already 3 in the morning. As a result, this morning you woke up late, you had to force yourself out of bed and rush to get ready.
So, now you’re walking into the office an hour late wearing an outfit you would’ve never picked out if you were in your right state of mind. You avoid eye contact with your coworkers as you make your way to your desk that’s situated in yours and Matt’s shared office. That was the worst part, out of all your coworkers you were the only one who had to be with the boss throughout the entire work day. There was no room for mistakes, especially on your part.
“You’re late,” Matt grumbles as he watches you dump your things onto your desk. You looked frazzled, but he wasn’t going to make an exception for you just because you were his secretary. Sure he’d built a rapport with you from working alongside you all these years, but if he made an exception for you then he’d have to do it for everyone.
“I know, I’m so sorry Mr. Sturniolo,” you reply meekly, avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment. You hated this, you felt like a school girl getting reprimanded for missing homework. If he wasn’t such a strict boss, maybe you’d take the time to explain why you were late, but you knew better than that. He would just see it as an excuse and write you off as a lazy employee.
Matt takes a long look at you, you were wearing a skirt that was definitely not workplace appropriate. He hated how easily he got riled up at the sight of your legs. He looks away immediately, training his gaze on the computer in his desk. “I’ve got a lot of meetings today, Y/n. I need you performing at your best potential, so get it together,” he says sternly, trying to think about anything other than you in that tiny skirt. You finally situate yourself at your desk, adjusting your skirt so it won’t ride up. It’s no use, this skirt was definitely not meant for the office.
“Yes, sir,” you reply, turning on your computer and preparing yourself for the long work day ahead.
For the rest of the day you sit in business meetings taking notes and writing down important dates and deadlines. For the most part, you’re really bored, but you were already late today and can’t afford another mistake, so you try your best to pay attention so you don’t miss anything.
Matt sits next to you, watching as you mindlessly take notes on what the presenter is saying. These meetings were very important and it was imperative that he paid attention too, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to your legs. They’re crossed under the table, your ankle swaying back and forth rhythmically. If he could, he’d crawl under the table and spread your leg-
“Okay, Mr. Sturniolo, you’re up,” the presenter suddenly says, breaking him from his thoughts. Matt coughs awkwardly, adjusting his pants slightly to hide his growing erection. He stands from his seat, taking the remote clicker from the man and continuing the presentation.
Matt knows this information like the back of his hand, it’s all numbers and statistics that he’s memorized over the course of managing such a large company, but as you sit there with your legs on full display he can’t think straight. He stutters throughout the entire presentation and at one point completely zones out with thoughts of you bent over the desk, pushed up against the wall, or even squirming in your seat.
“Sir?” you ask timidly, he’s been quiet for a while and is just staring down at you. His eyes pierce into you, lighting your skin on fire. The other men were looking around confused as to why the presentation stopped.
Your voice breaks him from his thoughts yet again and he coughs awkwardly for the second time. “Would you like me to get you a water?” you ask politely, standing from your seat. As you do this, your legs uncross and Matt catches a glimpse of your lacy underwear. His brain is on fire with thoughts of you.
He forces himself to look away with a clenched jaw as you quickly adjust your skirt. “Yes that would be nice. Thank you, Y/n,” he finally manages to say. You nod your head and excuse yourself from the group of men briefly.
All of the men allow their eyes to wander on your body, taking you in like a tall drink of water. They were all silently wishing they had a secretary like you.
“Pretty girl you got there,” one man comments as he leans forward in his seat to watch you walk down the hall. The skirt ended right above the edge of your ass, lifting slightly with each sway of your hips.
Matt sends him a warning glare before returning back to the presentation.
“Don’t forget to book the flights for the company trip. You and I will be leaving two days early to make sure everything is in order. Make sure you account for that, okay?” Matt says as he rapidly walks from the conference room to your shared office. You walk behind him, holding your skirt down with your left hand as your right arm is holding the papers from the previous meeting. Matt needed to walk in front of you or he’d be staring at your ass and legs, unable to concentrate on anything else.
“Are you catching all of this?” He asks, waving his hand in the air to catch your attention.
“Yes sir, I’m just um- I’m struggling with these papers,” you admit, adjusting the stack of papers again so they won’t fall to the floor. He stop his rapid walking and looks back at you, feeling bad for leaving you with the brunt of the work all the time. If he was honest, he was very harsh with you and would often overwork you, but it was because he always found himself staring and admiring at you. If he wasn’t so harsh with you then he’d certainly cross the line of professionalism in your relationship and entire uncharted territory.
Matt takes the stack of papers from you, mumbling a small sorry as he does it. He’s careful not to graze your skin, knowing that your simple touch would send him into a frenzy. He couldn’t trust himself yet, especially not with the skirt you’re wearing. He needs an excuse to get as far away from you as possible right now.
“You can go to lunch.”
“Are you sure? It’s only 11 and I still have to book the fli-”
“Yes. Bring me a sandwich from the deli I like. You can finish that later.”
You’re confused, he never sends you to lunch this early, especially not after business meetings. He’d usually have you type up a report or schedule the next meeting, sometimes he’d even assign you busy work like reorganizing the files or shredding letters. You don’t question it though, you knew better than that. Instead you send him a nod and head out to grab lunch.
As soon as you’re gone he’s relieved, he makes his way into the office, dumping the stack of papers on your desk before slumping down on his chair. He sighs, it’s a sigh of relief, but also of frustration. Everytime he closes his eyes his mind is overtaken with thoughts of you.
The thought of you sitting so close to him everyday, those lacy underwear mere inches from him. Your legs on full display for him, ready to be spread open at any moment. That tiny skirt riding up every time you took a singular step. Even your hands as they expertly typed away on your computer. The thought of you was driving him crazy, he doesn’t know how he survives entire workdays with you so close. If he could have it his way, you would’ve been bent over your desk the second you arrived late to work, for the simple fact that you arrived late. Then he would’ve eaten you out until you were begging him to stop as punishment for wearing a skirt so short. But he’s your boss and he needs to control himself and his thoughts.
His eyes are squeezed shut and his jaw clenched as he tried to think of anything other than you, but no matter how hard he tried his mind always came back to you. His dick twitches at the thought of you pressed up against the wall, your skirt halfway up your abdomen as he fucks into you relentlessly. He thinks about how he’d pick you up and guide you towards his chair where he’d let you do all the work, bouncing up and down on him for hours. Your hair would fall onto your face and he’d have to push it back, creating a make-shift ponytail to use as leverage to fuck into you harder.
His hand starts subconsciously wandering onto his hard, clothed dick at the thought. No one is here to watch him, the door is closed and you’re off on your lunch break, if he’s quick enough he can get in a quick, satisfying release. The idea floats around his head as he imagines you on your knees, face covered in his cum. Your lips would wrap perfectly around him, just like they wrapped around the straws he’s watched you drink from. Then he’d lay you on the desk on top of all the paperwork as he fucked you until the desk broke.
One time won’t hurt, right?
Briefly he looks around the room, making sure no one walks in as he begins unbuckling his pants. This is the first and only time he’s allowing himself to go this far at the thought of you. An adrenaline rush surges through him as he pulls his zipper down, becoming anxious to touch himself. His dick is twitching, precum leaking out as if it’s crying and begging to be set free.
As he’s about to let his throbbing penis free of its constraints, the door opens abruptly, causing him to look up in shock and immediately scoot himself closer into the desk. He tries his best to hide himself under the desk, using the ledge to serve as a shield.
You walk in with a big, kind smile, a bag of food in one hand and two drinks in the other. “Here’s your sandwich, Mr. Sturniolo,” you say, as you place the bag and one of the drinks onto his desk. “They didn’t have the soda you like so I brought this instead, I hope that’s okay. If not I brought another option,” you ramble on, plopping an alternate drink on the table.
His face is red hot and he won’t meet your gaze, “That’s fine, y/n. Thank you.”
“If you don’t like it I can get something else, I just didn’t know which one you’d like-”
“Y/n. You can go,” he interrupts you sternly, embarrassed that he was almost caught. You stand in silence, taking the hint that your boss wanted to be alone. You grab the paperwork from earlier and a pen before dismissing yourself quickly, deciding to work through the rest of your lunch break in the break room.
When you’re gone, Matt lets out another sigh of relief before looking down at his pants. They’re unbuckled, exposing the hem of his underwear. He quickly readjusts himself before looking at the bag of food.
He wasn’t even hungry anymore. All he could think about was you.
You’re currently preparing to board the plane for the long awaited company-wide business trip. The trip is to a resort where other major magazine companies will be hosting a week long conference. You and Matt are leaving two days early to ensure that everything is in order. This means that it’s your responsibility to make sure that all the company presentations, spreadsheets, paperwork, informational brochures, documents, and other records are in order. The thought of it stresses you out, you can’t even begin to imagine what Matt would do if even a single thing went wrong.
Even if you’d have some time to yourself in the resort, the thought of actually working made you dread the trip. But you put on your best performance as you walk behind Matt in the large airport in search of your boarding gate. Your suitcase is heavy, filled with all your personal necessities, some casual clothes, and a plethora of work clothes.
“Mr. Sturniolo? I think you might be heading the wrong way. I wanna say that the boarding gate is over here,” you speak shyly, afraid to overstep when speaking with your boss.
“Matt.” he replies, he hates that you call him ‘Mr. Sturniolo,’ it was a constant reminder that he was your superior, your boss. A reminder that you’d never be able to be his unless he fired you or risked a workplace scandal. “I’m sorry?” you ask, unsure of what he meant by that. You knew his name was Matthew, but you’d never called him anything but his last name.
“Please just call me Matt,” he reiterates. After years of working by your side, he’s determined to finally make an impression on you that doesn’t scream ‘I’m your boss!’ You hum in response, finally realizing that he wants you to refer to him by his first name. The thought of being on first name basis with your boss was a little weird, but it humanized him a bit and made him seem less intimidating.
“Okay. Well, Matt I think you’re heading towards the wrong gate.”
He looks around the airport, then down again at his ticket, realizing that he is in fact heading the wrong way. “You’d be right, Y/n,” he replies with a playful grin.
He’s dressed very casually, it’s an outfit that you’d be able to wear to a grocery store, but still lounge around your house in. The look contrasted his everyday attire drastically, he almost looked… normal? He didn’t look like a man who manages one of the largest magazine companies in the world, a man who drives a sports car, a man who has a secretary ready to do what he says when he says it. No, he looks like a man who walks his dog in the afternoon, a man who reads books before going to bed, a man who washes the dishes after every meal. He just looked normal and that made him easier to talk to.
The two of you begin walking to your designated gate, Matt trails behind you and takes in your attire too. You’re wearing a pair of leggings, a fitted top, sneakers, and a cropped sweater. You look great, but the change of style opens his imagination to the thought of you being fucked in a domestic setting. He could imagine you on the couch, by the sink, or even in the shower. He hated how easily his mind wandered into sexual territory, but he loved thinking about it.
You two board the plane quickly. You take the window seat, letting Matt situate himself in the aisle seat. The flight isn’t too long, but you’ve prepared yourself with some activities in case you become bored or restless.
Throughout the entire flight Matt is still thinking about you. All he can do is hope you don’t look down at his lap and see how excited he truly is. Fortunately for him, you’re deeply immersed in a game of sudoku. You’re biting the end of your pen in concentration, your eyes wandering across the page as you try and figure the puzzle out. He wishes you were biting across his skin, or that your lips were occupied with something else…
He takes a look at your lips, then at the page in front of you, “6 goes here.” His finger points to a specific square on the puzzle, breaking you from your concentration. You pause your chewing, processing the information Matt just said. You write in the 6, that singular move solving the entire puzzle for you as you quickly fill in the rest of the boxes.
A big smile is planted on your face, “wanna try?” You extend the book and pen out for him. He doesn’t have anything else to do, so he shrugs and takes the items from you, “sure.” In the process his hands graze against yours, goosebumps raising along his arms immediately. “Okay, well while you do that I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you comment, getting up from your seat so you can head to the back of the airplane.
You shuffle out of your seat, pressing your stomach to the seat in front of you as you try to wiggle out onto the aisle. Your butt briefly grazes Matt’s knee, your thigh touching his inner leg as you weave your way through his legs. “Sorry,” you whisper to him, finally making your way into the aisle. He wishes he could grab a hold of your hips, rip off your leggings, and pull you down onto his lap then and there. Even with all these people occupying the rest of the airplane, he’d fuck you so hard you’d forget how to walk.
His eyes do a once over on your whole body as you walk down the aisle, your tight leggings leaving little to the imagination. A small groan escapes his lips, if this is how he was feeling during the flight how was he going to survive the entire trip?
Matt shakes his head, beating himself up for being such a pervert. He stares down at the sudoku puzzle in front of him, suddenly forgetting all the rules.
The resort is huge, much bigger than the resort used for last year’s conference. Every year a different company hosts the conference, this year your company’s top rival was hosting. They were known to show off and pamper their guests, which would explain the grandious size of the resort.
You and Matt walk up to the front desk with your suitcases trailing behind you, ready to check in. The clerk at the front desk offers you both a warm smile as he asks for the name of the reservation.
“Matthew Sturniolo, we’re here for a weeklong event,” Matt replies, taking his ID out for further proof of identification. As you admire the luxurious look of the lobby the clerk looks for the reservation on the computer. When he finds it he immediately pulls out his rehearsed speech before handing Matt a singular key card, “Awesome! Looks like you two will be in a master suite on the top floor. Here’s the keycard, if you have any questions feel free to use your room phone to ring the front desk. We do offer room service which can also be accessed through the room phone. Enjoy your stay!”
Matt waits for another key card, because there should be two rooms, but the clerk becomes preoccupied with the computer once again. “I’m sorry. I reserved two rooms,” he says politely, trying not to lose his temper. If there was one thing he hated it was incompetent workers, and if this worker wasn’t so incompetent he would’ve known that Matt had two rooms. The clerk looks up from the computer briefly before checking again on the reservation status, “Right! Well it looks like the rooms you previously booked were given to two other guests. A lot of people will be visiting us for this conference so they had to move a couple of people around to make room for everyone. That’s why you’ll be sharing a room now.”
You watch as the situation unfolds, ready to step in if Matt became too abrasive. As a secretary, you were used to dealing with mistakes like this and have become an expert at deescalating situations, especially with Matt as your boss. He has a tendency to lose his temper or make snarky remarks and then leave you to deal with the aftermath.
Matt’s about to lose his temper and the clerk can tell so he quickly interjects again, “Don’t worry, sir. The room is very large and is equipped with a Queen sized bed. If you have any issues, we will work with you.”
Matt’s about to say something he shouldn’t, but is stopped by your gentle hand on his shoulder as you speak, “Thank you! We will call if there are any issues.” You grab the key card from the desk and pull Matt away and towards the elevator as you offer the clerk an apologetic smile.
He’s tense at your touch, because it elicits something feral in him, but also because he’s still on edge from the previous conversation. “I’m sure the room is big enough,” you comment once you two are inside the elevator. You can tell he’s bothered, his jaw is clenched and his fists are balled up so tight it causes his arms to flex. Even though he’s clearly angry, he looks extremely handsome right now. If he wasn’t your boss you’d even go as far as to say he looked hot.
“Doesn’t matter. I reserved two rooms, we should’ve gotten two rooms.”
“Yeah, but we’ll make it work,” you say with a smile, trying to remain positive.
“That’s not the point,” he grumbles. The elevator dings with each floor, and each ding reminds him that he’s closer to having to share a room with you for an entire week. If he wasn’t able to contain himself at the office, or even on the airplane, how was he ever meant to survive an entire week with you?
The elevator dings one last time as you reach the top floor, the doors opening slowly to reveal a long hallway. You exit the elevator, Matt following suit behind you as you read the keycard. The keycard reads room #505, it’s all the way at the end of the hall, perfectly secluded in a corner.
This only sends Matt’s imagination more wild, he didn’t know how he was going to keep his hands off of you for an entire week.
After getting settled, Matt informs you that there’s a brief introductory meeting that you need to attend. He tells you to dress up professionally because a lot of important people were going to be there and to be prepared to take notes. You know this is a business trip, but a part of you was hoping to relax the first night. With Matt as your boss, you should’ve known better.
The living situation wasn’t that bad, the room was very large, complete with a queen size bed, two closets, and a restroom that had a his and hers sink. Before doing anything else you two got situated, Matt insisted on sleeping on the floor, but after further deliberation you insisted he join you in the bed. You were adults after all, it didn’t have to be weird. He protested at first, but the thought of sleeping in the same bed as you was exciting.
After that, you decided to take a shower. You needed to wash off the jet lag from the flight. While you were in the shower Matt’s brain was going wild with thoughts of you. The water slowly running down your body, being able to see your silhouette through the foggy glass, pressing you up against the glass as he fucked you from behind. He was itching to get up from the bed, barge into the restroom and finally make you his. But he had to remind himself that this was a purely professional trip, that you were only in the same room due to circumstance.
You’re currently lining your lips, adding all the finishing touches to your makeup. You decided on a black dress, it was simple and classy, but still fun. Your hair was perfectly styled to show off a silver necklace and matching earrings, they were actually a gift from Matt. He gave them to you one Christmas, mumbling something about how they were from the company, but in reality he chose them himself specifically for you.
Matt’s been dressed for a while now, waiting for you to get out of the restroom so he can make any last adjustments to his outfit. You’re taking forever though and he still needs to put on is his tie, so he decides to walk into the restroom and use the mirror adjacent to yours.
As soon as he walks into the restroom his eyes are all over you, admiring everything about your face, body, and outfit. He notices you’re wearing the jewelry he gifted you and he makes a mental note to gift you another set.
“You look nice,” he comments nonchalantly, his fingers working expertly to tie his tie around his neck. You smile at him through the mirror, popping on a thick layer of lipgloss before returning the sentiment, “you clean up nice yourself.” Matt sends you a smile of his own, flattening the tie against his button up shirt. His outfit matched yours, it was all black from head to toe. It was a nice coincidence that made you two look almost like a couple.
You reach out your hands to fix his collar, it was popping out slightly. “Lemme fix this,” you whisper, your fingertips grazed against his neck. His breath hitches in his throat as he tried not to look down, he had the perfect view of your chest from where he was standing. He’s in the perfect position to pick you up and fuck you on the bathroom counter. If he wanted to he could smudge your lipstick, and fuck you so hard you cry, ruining your makeup.
“Thanks,” he whispers back, placing his hands on your hips to move you away from the mirror. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, he’s never touched you like that before. Matt tries to focus his attention on his reflection, ignoring his once again growing erection.
You look him up and down, noticing the tent in his pants for the first time. He looks so sexy right now that you want to get on your knees and worship him, servicing his cock until it has nothing left to offer. Then you’d let him pleasure you as you sit on the countertop, his head between your thighs.
You shock yourself with your dirty thoughts, turning abruptly towards the mirror as you try ignoring the sexual tension.
The meeting was more of a cocktail party, it was the perfect setting to get to know everyone before the real work started. Most of the people here were men in power, followed around by their assistants, secretaries, and interns. There wasn’t much for you to do but follow Matt around as he introduced you to a few of his colleagues. You remembered most of them from previous business trips, but still did your rounds around the event.
After getting comfortable and introducing you to everyone, the drinks started. You dismissed yourself and wandered off to find a drink for yourself. Matt wasn’t a big drinker, especially not at events like this, but he let himself fall victim to peer pressure. He found himself drinking scotch, whiskey, and vodka with a group of extremely powerful and wealthy men. They were hooting and hollering, engaging in conversation about all the females in their field that they’d fucked. Matt didn’t have any stories to share on the subject, so after a while he bid the men goodbye to look for you.
He was kind of drunk at this point, stumbling slightly as he searched for you. You were at the bar drinking a martini while talking to a man. He, much like you, was an assistant to a very powerful man. The conversation between you two was casual and innocent, but as Matt watched he couldn’t help but feel jealous.
“Does your boss drag you along to boring events like this too?” the man asked, taking a sip of his own drink. You weren’t drunk, but you were getting there. You take a sip of your drink and look around the room, catching a glimpse of Matt in a far corner. He looked upset and drunk. “Mmm yeah, but the job is easy so I don’t complain,” you reply, your eyes trained on Matt’s approaching figure. His nostrils were flared, jaw clenched, and the fabric of his shirt strained against his flexed arms.
“Umm that’s actually my boss there. I better go,” you say, hopping off the barstool. Your dress rides up slightly, exposing more of your thigh than necessary. The man watches as you walk towards Matt without a word, before turning to the bartender and asking for another drink.
“Are you drunk?” You immediately ask Matt once you meet. He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your arm and looping it around his. This is his attempt at leaving the event while looking put together and professional. He dismisses himself from the few colleagues you run into on the way out as he leads you towards the elevator. You play along, but once the elevator doors close you pull your arm away.
“What was that about?”
“Didn’t like the way that guy was looking at you,” Matt replies in a gruff tone. He presses the button to your floor aggressively. “Okay, but why did we have to leave?” you’re feeling feisty, the martinis giving you the daring push you needed to express yourself.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving, I was just looking for you. But when I saw how that guy was looking at you, I decided it’d be better for us to go back to our room.”
You roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms, causing your boobs to pop out slightly from your dress. You didn’t need a protector, especially not when the man you were talking to was just being nice. Matt looks at you when you scoff, groaning at the sight of your boobs spilling out of your dress. “Don’t do that,” he instructs drunkenly, pointing towards your arms. You look down at your chest, noticing how exposed you are, but you’re too drunk to care.
“Don’t do this?” you tease, pushing your chest out further. Matt inches closer to you, his face dangerously close to yours. “Stop” he whispers sternly, allowing his arms to rest on your hips as his nose grazes yours. “Or what?” you’re taunting him at this point, trying to see how far he’d go with you. But you’re drunk and so is he, if you two were sober you’d never be this bold.
The elevator rings, signaling that you’ve reached your floor. The sudden sound is sobering, it pulls you both from your trance, causing you to pull away immediately.
The walk to your room is awkward, the sexual tension lingering as you adjust your dress. Were you really about to kiss your boss? You try convincing yourself that that only happened because of the alcohol, you’re too inebriated to act against your natural, feral instincts. You fumble for the keycard in your purse, opening the door nervously before walking in. How were you supposed to sleep next to Matt after that?
“I’ll sleep on the floor, Mr. Sturniolo,” you comment quickly as you sit on the edge of the bed, unstrapping your heels. The use of his last name catches his off guard, “I thought I told you to call me Matt.” You didn’t even realize you reverted back to using his last name, but there must be something telling you to remain professional. For the sake of this trip and for your job.
He’s standing over you, looking down at you with an intimidating look. You look up at him, leaning back into the bed slightly to get a better look at him, “Right. Sorry, Matt.” Whatever awkwardness you felt was quickly dissipating as the wetness between your legs grew. He used his knee to separate your legs, standing in between them as he took ahold of your face.
Matt leans down closer to you, his lips inches from yours as he says, “Make it up to me.” Without another word, he takes your lips in his. It’s a slow and sensual kiss, and your arms fold so that you’re now resting on your elbows. Matt’s now on top of you, his body fitting against yourself perfectly.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up with one hand as he allows the other to trace from your face to your chest. He’s admiring everything about you, his fingers toying with the silver necklace around your neck. You’re watching him in awe, you’ve never known a man as sexy as him.
“Matt-“
“Shhh, pretty girl. You can moan my name all night long, but first I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pushing himself off the bed, you prop yourself up eagerly in the process. You watch as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants swiftly, pulling them down to reveal his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight, his dick struggling against the cloth. You know exactly what he wants and you’re ready to comply.
“Open up, pretty girl,” he instructs, whipping his cock out and pumping himself briefly. You do as you’re told, kneeling between him and the bed as you open your mouth for him. His dick is big, but you’re so hungry for him that you don’t question how it’ll all fit.
Matt lets you take control from here, moving his hands to the sides of your face to caress a few strands of hair out of your face. He watches as you take his cock into your hand, pumping it slowly as you kiss from the base all the way to the tip. A groan escapes his lips when you finally wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the slit in the process.
He moves his hand to the back of your head, moving his hips closer to you as he pushes himself into your mouth fully. Matt thrusts into your face slowly, using his hand to keep your head in place. Your eyes begin to water, small gag noises following each time he hits the back of your throat. “So good,” he moans, throwing his head back in pleasure as you hollow your cheeks around his cock.
He fucks your face faster, causing tears to brim at your waterline. You look so beautiful under him, taking him without a complaint. This is better than everything he’s imagined, you look so innocent under him with tour hands on your knees, pushing your boobs out for him. The sight alone is enough to make him cum, he pulls out of your mouth completely letting you catch your breath as he feverishly strokes himself.
You don’t miss a beat, moving your face closer to him so you can kiss the base of his cock and suck his balls as he continues stroking himself. He groans at your eagerness to please, pushing your face back and instructing you to open your mouth again. You do as your told, Matt laying his heavy dick in your mouth as his cum decorates your tongue. His moans fill the room as he praises you for taking him so well.
You take him in your mouth again, swallowing the cum in the process, bobbing your head up and down his cock a few times. You kiss his tip, a small whimper coming from Matt. You’re drenched at this point, the only thing you can think about is his dick inside you, your spongy walls clenching around him.
He watches attentively as you stand up seductively from your spot on the floor, your knees are red and your makeup is ruined. You look so sexy, he’s ready to go again. You kiss him, moaning into his mouth as one of his arms wraps around your waist and the other massages the skin right under the hem of your dress.
“Fuck me, please,” you whisper into the kiss. You asked so nicely that it makes his dick twitch.
He doesn’t have to be told twice, instead he guides your make-out session to the restroom where he turns you around so your ass is flush against him. You moan as he pulls your dress down, accidentally tearing the straps in the process to free your boobs. He’s watching you from the mirror, taking in how your boobs bounce with every movement.
Matt’s fingers trace along your chest, slowly reaching your nipples. He pinches your nipples between his cold fingers, eliciting another moan from you. “So beautiful,” he mumbles, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. Your hands hold you up against the counter and your head is thrown back in pleasure, resting against his shoulder as you await his neck move.
One of his hands cups your breast as the other works towards moving your lace underwear to the side. He groans at the feeling of your wet folds against his fingers, you were all worked up and it was just for him. “So wet. Is this all for me?” he asks, locking eyes with you in the mirror. You bite your lip, nodding your head feverishly. All you want is for him to fuck you already.
“Use your words, baby.”
“It’s all for you Matt.”
He seems satisfied with your response because he finally lines himself up with your entrance, letting his tip sit there for a while before fully pushing himself in. You are immediately sent to a state of euphoria at the feeling of him inside of you, breathless pants and moans escaping your lips. Matt moans out your name as every fantasy he’s had about you flashes through his mind, none of them comparing to the sight in front of him right now.
One of his arms is wrapped around your waist while the other snakes around your chest so he can hold one of your boobs. Your head is thrown onto his shoulder as you try to anchor yourself to the counter with your hands. His hips snap back and forth as he pumps in and out of you, causing your body to rock against the counter top.
“You feel so good,” he moans, holding you tighter against him. You’re clenching around him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his neck. You turn your face towards him and capture his lips in a heated kiss as he continues fucking into you, his fingers pinching your nipples and massages your breast. You’re moaning his name into his mouth, a string of curse words following as you feel your climax approaching.
He picks up on your queues and doesn’t slow down, kissing you harder as he pushes you past your breaking point. Matt feels you clench around him one last time, a loud, high pitched moan following as you come undone on his cock. He pulls away from the kiss so he can see your fucked out expression through the mirror. You look so sexy, taking him entirely like a good, obedient girl.
He grins at the sight in front of him, pecking your shoulder before grabbing a fistful of your hair and fucking you harder than before. His orgasm is close, and he’s chasing it faster and faster with each thrust. One hand is gripping your hair as the other rests on the small of your back, he watches as your ass jiggles against him with each thrust. You’re whimpering at this point, still very sensitive from your previous orgasm.
“So perfect,” he mumbles. The room is filled with the sound of your whimpers, Matt’s groans, and your skin slapping against each other as he drops his warm, sticky load inside of you. This time it’s your turn to watch him from the mirror, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is slack as his hips stutter inside of you, breathy moans tickling your back.
“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips into you one last time before pulling out of you completely.
Matt’s grip around you is still firm, holding you up so you can balance yourself properly. The two of you catch your breath before you turn to face him, a fucked out look on your face as you smile at him. He smiles too, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a genuine kiss. Not a ‘let’s fuck again kiss,’ but a genuine kiss.
“How am I supposed to work with you after that?” you joke, placing your arms on his chest.
“You’ll manage,” he says with a smirk, pecking your lips again.
MASTERLIST
A/n:
Happy Valentine’s Day enjoy this boss Matt story😋Kk byeeeeee
- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗
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queenofcoquette · 4 days
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de-stressing
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introduction:
the first step to handling how you feel is finding the root of it. these can be things that're in your control- things you can change to solve the problem, or things that're outside of your control and that you can't affect. the first step is making a list of what's in your control and outside of it so that you can approach your feelings.
in your control:
accept how you feel. acknowledge that you feel stressed, and instead of trying to force happiness on yourself, try to think about how you can deal with your stress in a productive way. (getting to the root of the problem).
make a to-do list. make a to-do list of everything you need to get done, and a list of everything stressing you out. once you know what to do you need to then think about how you're going to do it.
break it up into daily steps. the next step is making little changes in your daily routine to get things done. when i was stressed about my permit test i just scheduled it a few weeks an advance and spent 20 minutes every night studying for it.
clean your room. another good thing to do is just cleaning up your environment. it really does make a difference for how you feel, and also i find it feels really good once your room is cleaned up.
developing new habits. i've started sewing a little bit each day as well as studying everyday. these habits make me feel good- i don't get as stressed about school or stressed about not sewing.
outside of your control:
vent journal. when there's nothing you can do about a situation just write down all your negative thoughts.
support. after you've written down all your negative feelings and understand how you feel, talk to someone that you trust. make sure that it's the right time though, like ask them if it's a good time to vent.
find people who feel the same way. this is sort of the same as the point above, but for example, i was really upset just thinking about the world and how so much suffering is always going on- and i found article after article with tips on how to be happy even when things in the world are bad. sometimes it feels good just to know that there's so many people in the world who feel the way you do.
conclusion:
stress is a normal part of everyone's life, it's an emotion we all feel time to time, and something we all go through. the key is knowing how to deal with it, and how to feel better despite the things that're stressing you. if you feel like your stress/anxiety is something that you can' manage on your own then i hope you can get the help that you need :)
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honeytonedhottie · 18 days
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cultivating creativity and a deeper understanding of self⋆.ೃ࿔*:・🍰
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PROMPTED JOURNALING ; 
shadow work and prompted journaling is a rly helpful way to get to know urself better. it cultivates not only creativity and a sense of identity, but also healing.
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journal therapy is literally everything and i cannot recommend it enough. some shadow work prompts that you can use to start off are listed below.  
what part of myself do i feel disconnected to and why 
how do i let others invade my boundaries 
what beliefs and behaviors did u adopt from ur family that you now question 
what easily triggers sadness or anger from you. and what might be the deeper reason for this sensitivity
are there desires and ambitions that you feel embarrassed or scared to admit? and why?
journaling mainly involves self expression without fear of judgement. it’s like expressing urself without feeling ashamed so i highly recommend it for anyone who feels like they struggle with self expression. 
SELF EXPRESSION ; 
working on ur self expression also helps to kind of cultivate a sense of identity and knowledge of who you are and what u value. like i mentioned earlier you can express yourself in so many different ways. i’ll get deeper into the self expression aspect in the post. 
PASSION ; 
what are you passionate about? what drives u everyday? is it money? academic validation or academic research? maybe it’s romance or a strong desire for something. 
it’s okay. everyone’s answer might be different but there’s no wrong answer. identify what motivates you and what ur working towards. 
BEING BORED ; 
give yourself the privilege to do nothing. give yourself the luxury of being bored. when ur not doing anything, this frees up ur mind to think and cultivate ideas and concepts, most of the epiphanies that i have are a result of my alone time. 
when there’s nothing to do, you’re forced to think. and most ppl look for distractions and excuses to not spend time by themselves bcuz they don’t wanna spend time in their thoughts. they don’t wanna just be in their mind and i understand cuz at one point i was also in that position. 
to break this habit and be comfortable in ur own mind you must first be uncomfortable. start small, dedicate a small amount time to just lay and think, let ur mind wander as far as you want. and the next day let ur mind wander for a longer amount of time and so on until you can do this comfortably. 
CREATIVE OUTLETS ; 
something that i’ve learned on my journey is that having a creative outlet was rly important for me to be able to cultivate who i wanted to be and to be authentic and original. 
a creative outlet is a way that u can express yourself and your ideas some examples of a creative outlet could be 
pinterest accounts - i have so many pinterest accounts and on those accounts i turn my boards to art. lately i’ve been interested in photography and photos in general so this was rly good for me. 
a blog - starting ur own blog about something that ur passionate about/know a lot about or something that ur learning about is a great way to track progress and document ur journey
a journal - like i’ve mentioned earlier on in the post a journal is the simplest one to do in my opinion and i love it so so much
creating art - whether it’s pinterest boards, paintings, sketches, music, poetry, stories WHATEVER YOU WANT. 
DEEPER UNDERSTANDING ; 
process ur emotions in a thoughtful and efficient way and try looking deeper into ur behavioral patterns and habits. why are you the way you are? 
what are you passionate about? etc etc. cultivate a relationship with yourself through self care and healing work. remember that healing isn’t a linear process and in no case will it be, but i think that u owe it to yourself to know and cultivate urself. 
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shmpxx · 4 days
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HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND — y.o
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⛤ yuuta okkostu x fem! reader
How else would yuuta react if you denied your relationship in front of everyone? You obviously weren’t gonna be let off easy.
cw. smut. (kinda) exes to lovers-ish. thigh riding. semi-public sex. library sex. dry humping. oral (f. receiving). groping. marking. pet names (princess). face grabbing. slight manhandling. +18!
wc: 1.1k
a/n: yall i got a full time job and I’m doing school and i really want to post my fics more bc i love sharing my writing and hopefully this doesn’t sound rushed lol.
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“He’s not my boyfriend!”
You practically had to shout it out loud for it to be known. How many times did you have to say it to get through Maki’s skull as she was constantly teasing you about how you and Yuuta used to act like two middle schoolers in love, laughing about it in front of everyone.
You wanted to craddle yourself into a ball hearing it all made you remember the soft moments you had together and then made you cringe about it in every being of your body.
You held hands and tried to catch the perfect moment to kiss but was too anxious to, spent everyday together before he left, he promised to send a call, text or at least email and now he’s back, decides to act all cool, his attitude changes only slightly like he’s all that now, he had fixed his hair to side and his demeanor turns cold. Everything about him and his current presence ticked you off. He didn’t have to stay. You wished he’d go back.
Did you really wish that? Or did you need him to trap you in the darkest aisle of a library where he caught you. Whispering in your ear to take all those awful words you said back while he’s pinning you against the tall shelf, his pelvis is rocking against yours, his lips ambushing your neck. He’s just kissing you and touching you all over, making sure you don’t escape him either. He’s squeezing your tits a bit too hard, leaving too many hickeys.
“Can we just take a moment—“
“Why should we?” his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, traveling down your jawline. His hand squishing the sides of your cheeks to turn your head to the side to gain access to your neck. You could feel his wet muscle and his warm lips glide over your skin, his hand on the back of your ass, squeezing it and also pulling you more into him.
The slight change in yuuta was quite scary, he wasn’t as soft as he used to be. He’s leaving marks and his hips are moving recklessly. He knows it will be so much better if he could take your clothes off and be bare already to fuck you like he is your boyfriend, you’re all his.
He guides his leg between your legs under your skirt, his thigh grazing your covered cunt and his hands situated on your hips to rock you against his thigh.
“Didn’t you think it hurt my feelings when you said that in front of everyone?”
You couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing his eyes bore into you, he was looking for an apologetic look from you but you were too distracted by looking down watching as he was driving your hips to desperately drag on his thigh. He was pressing his leg harder into you making you finally let out out moan. The shame you felt when you realized you were in a public place making such noise.
“I was just telling the truth..hah…” your tone with half of regret and moans by yuuta forcing your hips to grind on him, your clit throbbing from the harsh friction and you’re already leaving a damp on his leg.
The way your words were set in annoyance and anger like you truly disregard the fact that you and yuuta never had a thing going on and this frustrates yuuta when he replays how you yelled that he wasn’t your boyfriend.
“I am your boyfriend, i just wanna make sure you don’t forget that princess” He pulls down your bottoms and he’s on his knees with his hands on the sides of your thighs like he’s kneeling to an angel which you were to him and you never thought so with all the built of negativity you had towards him.
“Alright i get it—“
He doesn’t think you do, he wants you to understand that you were his and he was yours. Why would he stop here? He’s already pulling down your underwear and your anxiety strikes at you when he gives your pussy a gentle kiss and you gave out a yelp, you kept your eye down the aisle to see if people would pass by. Your hand is slightly hovering over your mouth, so you’re still emitting small moans.
“C-come on yuuta—quit it already..ah!” You would rather move somewhere with more privacy though yuuta doesn’t care a place, he was too busy making out with your cunt now, his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit.
And it was not enough for him he had to prop your legs on his shoulders that your back pressed against the shelf of books more and you gasp by the sudden feeling of being weightless with your feet off the ground and yuuta buries his lips, his tongue to eat you out.
You cursed under your breath not knowing where to put your hands, you wanted to support yourself to not fall though yuuta would never let that happen and yet also drown in bliss with your hands gripping his black locks. the anxiousness and the pleasure clouding your mind at the same time.
Your trying your best to keep it down and your constant repeated pleas. Yuuta was lapping his tongue from the outside of your walls to your clit and something ignited deep in the pits of your stomach that just made you push your hips further into his face. It doesn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime, he was so focused his eyes were shut thinking about how good you taste and how he had never got the chance before. he can tell that your twitching to cum soon and your sobs getting a little louder.
“Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squealed, your legs wrapped around the back of his neck and your heels digged into his back, your spine arching off of the shelf and your eyelids flutter.
“Cum on my mouth princess, I’m all yours…” the way his voice melted your heart all over again, causing butterflies to fly in your tummy, made your orgasm come faster but also made you feel shamed and entirely hate it for feeling this way.
The moan of his name being let out so indecently that people might hear or probably did. Feeling the waves of you cumming flow through your body and his mouth hasn’t yet disconnected from you.
Yuuta looks up at you like this was just the beginning. You’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck when his hands comes under behind your knees, you still had no chance of keeping your feet on the floor. He’s already planning to fuck you with the zip of his pants and his cock freeing out, make you cry out a million times repeatedly that your his and he’s yours.
Now you’re gonna have to take everything you said back.
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7starlite7 · 25 days
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☆ BAD INFLUENCE ☆
(Yes Ik , finally I’m feeding y’all 🙄 )
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You were always so disobedient. Maybe that's why you ended up with him. Always getting into trouble. And if there was one thing he was, it was trouble. 
Toji met you at school. Why was he even still in school? He didn't know. Well .. he sorta did, it was because of you. His lil good girl who always covered. Using that cum covered brain of yours to always get him out of trouble. Using your daddy’s money to pay for him and his friends. Why ? He didn’t really know why you clung to him like a sick puppy. So eager too , disobeying your father who specifically told you to leave him alone. That would probably be better for you anyway. However, Toji wouldn’t want you to listen to him. He didn’t wanna lose his sweet little puppy. The girl that would do anything for him. Anything. Anything at all. Anythin,  anywhere.
That’s why his friends would always walk into a meeting with a show.
Biker!Toji x cockdrunk!reader. throat fucking. Semi public sex. Voyeurism. Doggy style. Sex on a bike. Slapping , spanking. Possessiveness. Oral. Full Nelson. Overstimulation (HEAVY ) dacryphilia (heavy) Cock drunk reader ( like fr fr ) sorta freeuse. reader is OBSESSED. Reader enjoys everything going on. Everything is consensual. 
If Toji had a dollar for every time he absolutely ruined that pristine look of yours he’d be rich.. but he didn’t need to be because you were. Here you were walking into his gang's hangout like you usually do everyday. Hair in pristine bouncy curls. Lip combo flawless. Lashes, so pretty and cute. Doe eyes sparkling. And of course expensive clothes. Today you opted for a plaid green blazer , a white shirt underneath. A gray pinstripe miniskirt with bows and some simple black 2 inch heels with socks. So put together and nice. 
Your glossy heels clacked as you shuffled over to Toji. He didn’t greet you , nor look at you. He never really does. He only pats the ground next to him. You wonder where the respect you had for yourself went. You straighten out your skirt so as to not flash his friends as you sit. Like a little dog on Toji’s side. On the cold smooth concrete floor. Where did your self respect go? You asked yourself this. Then Toji’s rough hand ran through your curls , massaging your scalp so lovingly as he spoke to his friends. You remembered , that’s where it went. Gone , never to be seen again when you were around him. It was like this everyday…
☆ Well almost.. sometimes his friend would walk into a show. Your knees painfully on the concrete as you took Toji down your throat. Hair disheveled. Slobber and drool caking your face. Toji’s rough hand forcing your head down viscously. His other hand holding his cigarette. His head thrown back without a care in the world as though he was using a fleshlight. Greeting anyone who entered with a ‘ what’s good ?“ as though you weren’t gagging on his thick length. Tongue running along him so eagerly. Trying to take him the best you could. Tears streaming onto his dick. 
Sometimes he’d remember you were there. Praising you to no end, looking down on you with those green eyes. “ such a good mutt ~” … you sometimes couldn’t tell if it was praise or degradation. Did it matter ? Anything he said made you gush. Were his slaps out of anger or a reward? Your cheeks red from the harsh contact as he pulled you up by your hair. Just to laugh at your riddled face. His fingers wiping the stray cum off of your cheeks. “ you havin’ fun puppy~?” He’d tease you , laughing when you nod your head eagerly. Slamming his length back down your throat . Painting it white with cum. 
☆ Sometimes they’d walk into your back arched so deliciously. Cheek against the floor. Nails scratching at the concrete , making dust. Seemingly no shame in you being pounded into on the floor like a dog. Your cries echoed through the empty lot. Those were their favorite. “ F-f-fuck , Toji , M-more more more~!!” You were so desperate. So eager , so cock starved. Absolutely perfect because he wouldn’t stop stuffing you full if he had to. Not even King author could pull him from your cunt.  “gripping me so tight puppy~” his chuckles getting lost in your clouded mind and your moans becoming babbles and pleas. 
“ Cmon baby , you gotta keep yourself up if you want me to keep going,”  and gosh did you keep yourself up. Arms flexing prominently as you willed all your strength into them. Keeping yourself at a perfect angle for him to hit you. The strength coming from our desperation. Hitting that one spot over and over. Your babbles turning into shrill screams of his name. “ fuck baby , your doing so good~, look at how much you turn my friends on” his rough hand would grip your chin , adjusting your gaze to all the cocks being fisted with you in mind. But you could care less about them. Too focused on the one in your cunt. The one that then had you spraying all over. The light stone beneath you turning dark gray as you cried. Not a lil sniffle. A fucking cry. Only he could fuck you like this. Have you crying out for him. Have you feel so empty and hopeless when he pulled out.
☆ “Well what are you waiting for , bend over” you had gotten used to his friend snickering at your embarrassment, but you just couldn’t stomach it now. Your back facing them as you stood in front of his motorcycle seat. Thighs shaking from the idea of revealing yourself to them. You were so confused. Why were your panties flooded , flooded from the thought of it. You knew not to keep Toji waiting. You bent over slighting. Making sure not to arch your back. Elbows propped up on the seat. Fear filled your chest as the groans of dissatisfaction of your half assed (literally) display hit your ears. You heard Toji’s footsteps behind you. “ don’t fuck with me mutt, bend over or I’ll let them take turns with you. “ you whined out even though the idea made you throb. 
You stretched forward. Your soaked panties earned taunts from the audience behind you. Your body burned hot as Toji stood behind you , yanking your panties down for his friends' eyes to feast on. Pink and pretty , hole fluttering for him. Toji smirked, the pads of his fingers rubbing your hardened bud. “ Toji please , need y’ so bad~” you whined, legs shuffling back and forth. “ You want my cock baby? “ Toji faked questioning. “  Yes, yess , of course I do !”. Of course you do, he knows , he just wanted to hear you say it. “ well only good puppies get what they want”. You whined as you knew where this was going. “ I had to ask you twice, right ?” He recalled , his tone suddenly darker. “ Ji ~” you breathed out, “ I’m sorry , promise I’ll listen!” You pleaded. He just laughed. 
Your legs ached painfully. His tongue was too much. The head he gave you was like heaven. Made to make you dizzy. Made to stop the flow to your brain. Made so his friends could make fun of those expressions. Make fun of the way you jerked when he sucked your clit. Your hands, gripping his hair. So hard it made his scalp sting a bit. So much so he was to place a bite to your clit causing tears to fall instantaneously. “TOJI !!” the scream making blood rush to his pants. He simply looked up at you. His arm leaves your thighs to move your grip on his hair. “ don’t fucking forget your place, don’t anchor to me , if you fall you fall”. He warned his tongue attacking your cunt again right after his sentence was done. 
☆ you’d come three times from his tongue. Exhausted, that's what you were.. but you didn’t want him to stop. In fact if he stopped you cry more than you already were. By the third orgasm you were out of it. Trying to grip the bike seat to keep you up but your legs gave out slowly as Toji took one long fat strip of your cunt. Laughing with his warm muscles still on your cunt. His strong arms caught you as you fell slowly. Bringing you to the ground. Your boobs sloshing around as your back laid against the concrete. Toji’s large hands grip your underthighs , hoisting them up. 
“ AH!! MHNG~ FUCK TOJI FUCK FUCK FUCK”  you manicured nails stratched at your skin. You didn’t know what to do to dispel the carnal desire to grip him. To anchor yourself in some sort of reality while he devoured you to bliss. Cloudy , sweating from your eyes. “ aww , pretty girl don’t be so dramatic~” Toji coed , rolling his eyes. Making fun of your exaggerated state. Were you really dramatic ? Were you ? If anything you were suppressing yourself. Your tummy knotted in ways that felt like you were gonna explode. Your belly ring practically vibrating as you jerked slightly. “M’ n-not .. I-i , it’s s’ m-much I~” you couldn’t even speak. “ really .. ! This is barely anything baby~” Toji teased , diving back into your cunt , adding his finger to rub circles to your clit that might as well be red. Your eyes rolled painfully so. White honey spraying everywhere. Looking only to see Toji cleaning his face with his tongue. “ aw man , barely got started “ he joked looking at your fucked out state. 
☆ Or sometimes they’d come in to see your legs stretch painfully behind your head as strong arms locked under your knees. Toji’s hips rutting up into you so fast. Drilling your cunt. Chuckling at your loud cries. Laughing at your desperate pleas. “ you whine so much for a girl who begs on her knees for me” he’d tease. And he was right. You’d be on your knees everyday for him if it kept him splitting you open like this. Your chin dug into your collarbone. Your eyes rolling back, tongue hanging out as drool fell down your body. Completely fucked out beyond belief. He’d speak to you and you’d answer in incoherent shrill moans. 
Toji’s brows furrowed. His pace speeding up. His cock punching your cervix causing to to scream his name like a call for a superhero. “ you speak when spoken to no? “ he’d question, bringing his finger down to your clit , rubbing circles. Your thighs shook. “Mhmmmm~” you hummed out trying to calm down. “ and I spoke to you no?” Toji continued, his circles becoming pinches that made you wince. “ y-yes” your face was heating up , you didn’t know how much more you could take “ y-yes you did Ji~” you confirmed , your eyes shooting shut as he started to place harsh slaps to your clit. Smack after smack after smack. Your clit, hard and puffed in arousal. “ Then why the fuck am I not hearing anything, hm? Toji’s final question to you before you squirt. The liquid hitting one of his friends. The liquid that his friend tried to lick off but quickly stopped due to Toji’s possessive stare. 
☆ or maybe they’d come in to you after you fucked up. The first thing they see being your red ass. Toji’s large handprint starting to form on your cheeks. Both of them at that.  “M’ sorry Ji , so sorry! “ you’d plea. Legs kicking up into the air with each smack as you lie across his lap. “ shut the fuck up , your not sorry , if you were you wouldn’t do it” he’d refute your apology. Placing rapid slaps in succession just for that dumbass comment. You cry out with each one. Your cunt getting wetter and wetter.   “shut the fuck up , I don’t care if you have to stuff your mouth with those pretty lil fingers, do it” he’d commanded, and so you did. Sucking on your fingers , drool spilling to the floor as you tried desperately to suppress your soft moans as his fingers played with your folds in between slaps. Your focus breaking when his thick digits enter you. The squeal you let out being louder than anything you’d let out so far. 
So now you were on your knees in front of him. Taking slaps across the face for not listening. Your face is covered in tears… not from the stings across your cheek but because he stopped fingering you. “ Ji ~ please , I’m sorry , please finger me~ “ you’d beg shamelessly only for your face to be cupped with aggression. “ you fucked that up, should’ve kept that pretty mouth quiet”. You cursed yourself for messing up your own pleasure. You couldn’t take it. You’d never been as defiant as you were today. Your arms came up against Toji’s , stopping his next slap.
He looked down at you in pure and utter confusion as you pulled his length from his pants. Rubbing your damp face against it like a cat against its owner. Kissing it , licking it , sucking it like it was your religion. Toji’s confusion turned to chuckles of laughter. “ your so fucking pathetic , can you even live without me ? “ 
☆ no you couldn’t. You definitely couldn’t. You really dwelled on this as your head lay almost limp against the dash of his motorcycle. Drool and tears on all the fancy buttons.  Only soft sniffles and high pitched moans leave you. This was it. His hips fucking you slow and deep. His hands gripping the handle bars as you sat on the bike with his cock stuffed so deeply inside you. Arched so deep so he could hit it. Sandwiched between in and the dash as he used the bars to propel himself into your cunt. His tip practically has lived a whole lifetime with your g-spot. You’d cum a million times over. You couldn’t think straight. Brain filled with dick. No thoughts, just him. All you wanted, all you needed was for him to keep fucking you like this forever. Like a lil cock sleeve for him. Like a free use whore. Like you needed his dick to breathe. Like you were going to die and his cock was the medicine you needed. You two were alone this time. In the empty space your voice echoed. You whined out a soft “T-Toji.. I love’ you so m-much~' ' the comment high pitched as you reached your 6th high of the night. Toji watched your body melt into him , fatigue taking over you as you creamed, gushing out onto him. 
“ You really can’t live without me, can you?” he smiled. 
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sorrowedpickle · 8 months
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Best-friends
Tara Carpenter x g!p!reader
A/N: I was eating cheez-Its while making this
Warning: smut, p in v, the usual dealing with me.
Requested by: @marst566 (don’t know why the tag isn’t working🧍🏻‍♀️
Here’s there the request
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“Fuck-“ she whimpered out as your hips connected to hers over and over again. She moan uncontrollably under you as you forced her face down into the pillow to drown out the loud moans the left her from Sam or Quinn as you drilled into her.
“Fuck, fuck!” Her back naturally arched on its own to give you a better angle inside of her and to give herself more pleasure from the cock buried deep inside of her. “Don’t stop!” She says through teary eyes.
You bite your lip as you feel her move back against you in time with your thrust and can’t help the groan that leaves your lips as you hold on her hip tightens.
How you two ended up like this was a story you wouldn’t dare admit be true when telling. All because of a little jealousy at your first frat party in New York and only then did the knife finally cut through all the tension that was built up between you both.
The others had the theories, watching how the two of you interacted in the past few months but never having any or enough proof the prove anything. Just placing their bets and waiting. Luckily you two seemed to keep it hidden very well.
Friends with benefits. At least that’s what Tara called it when she wasn’t staring at you when you weren’t looking or always bringing you up.
Now, at least twice a week or more — depending on how much time you could get alone — you had her a moaning and screaming mess but it was hard to even get alone together to do anything. With Sam always wanting to be in the same building as Tara 24/7 it was hard
Even now, you two had to make a tight decision to do this with Quinn and Sam in and asleep in their rooms. But you both couldn’t help it, it was the end of the week and you hadn’t fucked since the middle of last week due to you having a lot of testing going on and Sam up Tara’s ass. Tara was sexually frustrated, moody and snappy while you seemed to have a hard time hiding your painful erections whenever they’d randomly pop up.
You two depended on each other, more than you’d both cared to admit. Especially after what happened in Woodsboro with Richie and Amber. You both needed the other, not just physically but emotionally. The comfort you to brought each other was something you craved more than sex or the rough fucking she demanded.
Now that you had the petite girl all for yourself, you couldn’t help but see how much you craved her. Her lips, her hands wrapping around you, and especially her body that seemed to tease you with its movements everyday you saw her.
Your hips slam against her ass as she continues to moan into her pillow, hands gripping the sheets under her in a desperate attempt to ground herself to keep going.
You move your hand from her hand to rest against her back, between her shoulder blades to force her ass more up into the as you shifted slightly above her and forcing your pants further down to below your knees as you push both of you further up into her bed.
“Fuck, you’re so wet Tara..” you groan out as you begin thrusting inside of her again causing her to let out yet another string of moans that were still muffled by her pillow.
The street light perfectly shaded across her skin, back muscles moving and flexing with every move you both make, her waist thin then stretching out to form a petite shape and even more petite with her back arched.
You were glad you came when she called even if it was the dead of the night, you would walk through the desert if it meant this would be your Oasis to quench your thirst. You had to be careful not to get caught or Sam probably finish you off herself.
Tara seems to want this when you hit her spongy spot, her head is thrown back and she lets out a loud moan.
Your eyes widen as you stop and you move your hand back up and shove her face into the pillow. Your heart beat jumping into your throat, a fear settling inside of you as Tara whines into the pillow. A fear of Sam’s wrath if she catches you in her little sisters bed in the middle of the night.
You felt like a teenage boy when thinking about it, Tara was an adult and could take care of herself just fine but you were scared of Sam. Like a teenage boy would be the father of the girl whose room he snuck into.
But you knew Sam would be much more worse than her father.
“Are you trying to get caught?” You ask, turning your head to listen out for any movement in the apartment.
This doesn’t stop Tara as she keeps moving her hips back against yours in attempt to chase the orgasm you unrightfully took from her, moaning into the pillow and grip tightening on the sheets.
You continue to listen out for any sound outside the room. The creak of a floor board, a voice, hell looking down at the crack for a light to turn on.
But the only sound the you could hear was Tara, between her legs and her moaning as she pushes against you, urging you to start moving again as she lets out yet another whine.
She was going feral, eager to get you to fuck her and give her the release she was used to receiving at least once a week. You could only imagine how it would be if you didn’t fuck for a much longer period of time.
“She’s not going to come, can you ju-” you takes in a sharp breath when you start up your pace again, still straining your ears to listen out for Sam just in case.
“So impatient.” You tease as both of your hands grip onto her hips to pull her back to you with more force.
This causes her let out another moan into the pillow and go limp, no longer attempting to push back against you now that your pulling her back, hitting her g-spot over and over again was getting her back to getting closer to the edge. Closer to her orgasm she had been craving for the last week and a half.
You could only imagine what it would be like if you two were separated for a longer time frame without any release from the other.
You continue to pump yourself in and out of her throbbing pussy, washing the way her juices mixed with your as you caught glimpses of her cock. Loving the way it felt and seemed to fit perfectly inside of her, it was more than you could ever ask for.
You feel her legs begin to shake in your grasp as her moans become more frequent and you can’t help but smile at how fast she was going to cum after being denied there for a moment.
You increase your movements, desperate to make her cum after so long, to feel her gush all over your dick.
You let out a small, breathy moan, feeling your own orgasm form in the pit of your stomach as you move against her.
One hand rubbing up and down her back gently while the other keeps a harsh grip on her hip, neither of you worried about the mark or bruise it might leave. She could cover it up, just like you did the scratch marks she left down your back or the hickeys you left on each other. Worries you didn’t worry about in the heat of the moment.
A rather loud moan leaves her, even muffled by the pillow it made you look back at the door as she started to reach her orgasm as you pound into her.
You thrust into her a few more times before she’s lets out a loud, high pitched moan that had you pushing her head further into the pillow in worries her roommate, or worse her sister hear as you continue to move inside of her, squeezing your eyes shut tight when your spill out inside her, or rather the condom.
You both take a moment to breath once you release your hold on her head. Trying to calm down and come down from your highs as you fall limp against her, cock still buried deep inside of her making you feel every time she squeeze around you when her body would twitch.
Then you hear. The footsteps that were coming from the left, where Sam’s room was and your eyes widen.
Tara hears it to and shoved you down onto the bed before pulling the blankets over your hurriedly.
You feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest, a warm feeling settling inside of you when Tara pulls you closer and forces your face to squish against her boobs, trying to get as close as possible to seem as small as possible as she pulls the covers over your head.
You feel her heartbeat quicken against your cheek as the door opens and you both lay perfectly still.
The hall light lit up the room as Tara’s head stays from under the blanket with her eyes closed, acting as if she were sleeping and not calming down from getting her brains fucked out.
You hear Sam stand there for a moment, as if she’s observing or searching for something and you can’t help but hold your breath in anticipation.
We’re you about to get caught for fucking your best friend? Just like the group had speculated the entire time? That would be a horror, being teased for the rest of your life by Mindy would be your end.
But then the door clicks shut and you let out the breath you were holding as you feel Tara visibly relax as she leans even closer to you, if even possible.
“She’s not going to come, huh?” You tease quietly, voice muffled by her boobs before feeling her pinch your arm.
“Shut up.” She whispers and you can’t help but chuckle, holding back your laugh as she shifts slightly to get comfortable. Wrapping her arms around your shoulders to pull your face further into her chest, you feel your body relax as you reach around her to wrap you own arms around her, breathing in her scent and closing your eyes.
This was your Oasis that was worth the long and hard walk for sure.
Tagslist: @bluetreecloud20 @skate-to-breathee @wol-fica @raven-ss @restlessdot @dumb-fvck104 @tabberthecat @crazyoffher @rhythm-catsandwine @makncheese12 @missanagilmore @prettyyyy-girl
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Impossible Love Resists Best
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Hi guys ♥
First of all, can we talk about this gif please?
It’s from this request that I received like an eternity ago, sorry?
Summary : How to survive when your super-protective-intrusive older sister aka Patri Guijarro discovers that you have an affair with one of your teammates.
TW : Swearing, !GuijarroReader
Enjoy and tell me what you think about this one :)
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We can’t really say that Patri is the one you better get along with between your other brothers and sisters. Even if you were born two years after her, you don’t have quite the same tempter. You were four children in the family and the only thing that brought you and Patri together was football. You never liked seeing her meddle in your affairs or wanting to control every parts of your life.
So when she found herself playing at FC Barcelona in 2015, you were pretty relieved. You chose Atletico Madrid some months after her departure, just to stay in Spain but not follow her steps. Your call to the Spanish national team, however, more or less forced you to play together from time to time. When your contract with Atletico ended and you had to make a choice, you hesitated for a long time before accepting the offer from Barcelona. Seeing your sister every day honestly made you hesitate a lot. It was one thing to support her at family celebrations, but it was another to have her in everyday life.
So, before you agreed, you asked Alexia Putellas for advice. You play together on the national team and she knows Patri very well. You knew Alexia would take your opinion into consideration and think about the well-being of her team before anything else. After much discussion with her, you finally agreed and arrived in Barcelona in the summer of 2022.
And finally, everything went rather well. You didn’t spend too much time with your sister, preferring to train with Salma, Ingrid and Mapi or Lucy. Unlike Patri, you went to the World Cup in Australia and even though it caused some tense discussions between you two, it never changed your way of seeing things.
Apart from the ideals and your desire to change things, you had to admit that there was something else that made you want to fly to kangaroo country. I mean, someone.
This someone who wakes up gently at your side, opening her delicious chocolate eyes.
You and Ona met during your first selection for the Spanish adult team. It wasn’t until after Euro 2022 that you got together. A sweet way to console yourself for your defeat. But, concerned about your sister’s reaction, you decided to keep this relationship hidden. When Ona was still in Manchester, it wasn’t too complicated. You talked a lot by messages or by Facetime and since the Federation used to always make the same pairs for hotel rooms, you took the opportunity to find yourself at those times.
You were afraid that Ona’s arrival in Barcelona would change things, but not at all. The beautiful brunette took an apartment five minutes walk from yours, finding you the excuse to carpool very often. Nobody suspected that if you came together sometimes, it was because you spent the night together. In truth, since Ona is in the same city as you are, you have trouble spending time away from her.
"Holà" Ona mumble before turning in her back to stretch her body.
Her movement brings down the sheet on her body and you don't hesitate to let your eyes slide on her. When you go up to her eyes, she arched an amused eyebrow and you offer her a guilty smile.
"Don’t start like this, or we will never get there on time"
"I’m not even sorry"
You give her an angelic smile that makes her laugh and you get closer to her to curl up against her, your head on her chest. The regular beating of her heart makes you doze again, unless it's her nails that massage your skull. You hums and close your eyes, getting yourself comfortable.
"Do you have anything to do today? After training?"
"Pina is planning to kidnapp me to go shopping"
You roll your eyes as Ona giggle. You hate shopping. You hate looking for something for hours, only to realize that what you liked is no longer available in the right size. You hate people in stores who go half crazy and having to lug a dozen bags to your parked car 20 minutes walk away makes you want to kill someone.
"And you?"
"Nothing, maybe I'll go see my parents"
You hums one more time and begin to stroke Ona's arm. This is maybe your favorite part of her body, you have a thing with her arms and hands. You both stay like this for twenty minutes, before you need to prepare yourself for training. Like many other times, you arrive together in the car park and go together to the changing rooms. But, in order not to draw the attention of your teammates to your relationship, you and Ona decided to spend as much time together visually as with others. Because outside of FC Barcelona, it’s clear that Ona is the one you spend the most time with.
********
Celebrating a team victory at a local bar, you find yourself stuck between Mapi and Lucy. Usually you refuse this kind of party, knowing that Patri is there almost every time. And besides, Ona has a reputation for leaving early, so she can discreetly join you at home without it appearing strange. The only time you left one of these parties together, you were surprised by Alexia while you were kissing in Ona’s car, unable to keep your hands to yourself after restricting yourself all evening. The blond was looking for you to give you back the jacket you had forgotten.
This makes her the only person who knows about your relationship and she promised not to get involved, even though she advised you to talk to Patri before she found out for herself.
You were drinking alcohol-free cocktail, not wanting to have a headache tomorrow morning.
"I'm booooored" Mapi whines, letting herself go of the backrest. "I need an occupation. Why don’t we find you someone, Mini-Guijarro?"
You grimace at the nickname you hate, seeing Ona tense on her chair a few meters from you. Not wanting to be the second Guijarro, you actually go with your first name on your jersey for example.
"Go dancing with your girlfriend, you dork" you answer smiling at Mapi, sipping your drink.
"Are you annoying my little sister?" Patri ask sitting on the free chair in front of you. "That’s one thing I have reserved for myself, you know?"
Mapi laugh as you roll your eyes. The blonde sits more upright and leans on the table explaining her action plan to Patri.
"I thought we could find someone for your sister."
"Are you joking? She’s a baby" Patri replies coldly, killing the fun.
"What are you talking about? She’s not a 12 years old anymore"
Your frown and take a quick look at Ona. She's looking at you too, but like some other girl around your table. Mapi had raised an eyebrow and Patri was about to respond to her before Lucy does it first.
"Why don’t you stop talking about her like she’s not here?"
Both decided not to add anything, at least for the first few seconds. This gives you time to shoot a look and a smile to thanks Lucy, who answers you with a wink.
It’s exactly for this kind of thing that you never talked about your relationship with Ona to Patri and for which you never talked about your love life with her. She knows you have a preference for women, but that’s all. She never even knew the name of one of your girlfriends. Not that you’ve had dozens, but still.
"Do you know she’s a footballer and not a nun, at least?"
Mapi comes back, getting your sister’s attention and you sigh.
"What do you mean?"
Looking kind of angry, Patri crossed her arms on her chest and looks at Mapi with a bad air. Mapi seems determined to change her mind and let you have a sentimental life, perhaps imagining that Patri’s opinion has already prevented you from doing something.
"She’s young, pretty hot and I’m sure that if she wanted to she’d walk out of here with several phone numbers."
"Just because you used to sleep around at the time doesn’t mean everyone does. And don't go there or I'm sure Ingrid would love to learn that you call one of your common friend hot."
Mapi’s amused look becomes a black stare and you decide that the line had been crossed. You get up from your seat, glaring at your sister, raising your voice maybe a little too much than you hopped.
"Enough. Can you stop two minutes of disrespecting people, Patri? I do what I want, when I want, with whom I want. It's not for you to say what is good for me, as if you were interested enough in me for that, other than to remind me all the time that you do everything better than me. You’re just so pathetic. Leave me the fuck alone."
Moving away from the table, you realize that Ona is no longer in her seat but you find her leaning on the bar, in the company of others of your teammates. Going through the dance floor, you intercept Ingrid and advise her to go and get her girlfriend before her and your sister kill each other. Then you finally join the bar and settle down next to Ona.
You meddle in the discussion a few minutes before discreetly shifting your attention to Ona. Your hand found her fingers under the bar and you clenched them discreetly to draw her attention to you.
"Are you okay?" you ask her gently.
"Yeah. The comment about your sentimental possibilities was a little too much"
You make a grimace, frustrated not to be able to take her in your arms to reassure her properly. You stay immersed in her eyes for a few more moments and you realize that you no longer want to stay. You want to go home, your sister’s behavior has greatly annoyed you and you want to talk about it to Ona, too.
"As soon as someone leave, we're leaving too" you decide.
Ona nods and she had the time to finish her drink before Lucy and Aitana decided to leave. You jump at the chance and tell the others that you’re coming home too, followed by Ona. The four of you go out after saying your goodbyes, yourself carefully avoided your sister’s gaze, and it is with great relief that you breathe fresh air from the outside. Ona and you said goodbye to the two others women and went to your car.
"My sister is the dumbest person on earth" you groan angrily, barely the door of the car closed behind you.
Ona smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. She didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, knowing how tense your relationship with Patri has been since you were little. It’s not the first time you’ve complained about it and you’ve already told her a lot. But the way she’s behaving with you makes you half crazy, not to mention she’s even starting to talk badly to your mutual friends now. Mapi and Patri being apparently still in the bar when you left, you imagined that Ingrid’s intervention must have been saving the night.
You relax a little when you feel Ona’s hand on yours. She searches for some seconds on her phone a playlist that will suit you both and the rest of the trip is done in silence. You obviously notice that your girlfriend is also lost in her thoughts, but you prefer to wait until you are at home to question her.
When you arrive home, you both go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water before making a jump in the bathroom to shower before returning to your bedroom. There, you draw Ona against you and you let a new silence settle. You shiver when you feel her draw random shapes on the skin of your belly and even if the feeling is more than pleasant, you decide to attract her attention by raising her chin in your direction.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"I was just wondering what would happen the day Patri heard about us" Ona said, shrugging.
"You saw what she said earlier, it’s clear that she will take it badly."
You sigh and gently shake your head. She’s your sister, she’s supposed to want your happiness, right?
"Yes, that’s, okay. But us?"
"I don’t understand your question Hermosa"
Eyebrows slightly gathered, you watch Ona sit on your lap and you automatically place your hands on her thighs.
"I’m going to ask you the most selfish question in the world." Ona looks embarrassed, but you smile at her and beckon to continue. "If she tells you to stop our relationship, what would you do?"
The answer seems obvious to you, but you quickly realize that in Ona’s mind this is not necessarily the case. Perhaps it comes from the fact that his parents and brother have never behaved in a way other than that of a loving and supportive family.
"I'm not going to listen Ona, obviously. This option isn't even a possibility."
"Really?"
"Really."
With this you smile and draw her against you again to put your lips on hers. The shyness displayed on your girlfriend’s face squeezes your heart and you resent Patri a little more to impose this kind of doubts. During the kiss your hand is placed on her cheek and you caress her tenderly with your thumb when you speak again.
"I don’t want to lose you, Ona"
"Me neither, Princesa"
********
The next morning, it’s with a better mood that you wake up. When you look at your phone, you realize that your sister tried to call you last night, but you decide to ignore this information for now. You put on an underwear and a t-shirt of Ona, trying not to make any noise and not to wake up the pretty brunette who still sleeps peacefully. You know she usually wakes up quickly once you’re out of bed, but you still have hope that you can make her breakfast before she joins you.
You rummage through your kitchen, realizing it might be time to go shopping, but you end up finding everything you need. The avocado toasts are ready and you were finishing your scrambled eggs when Ona startles you by jumping on your back. The cry you utter is far from advantageous to you, but you cannot hold back your smile when you hear Ona’s laughters.
"Don’t scare me like that!"
"Sorry" she laughs again before putting a kiss on your cheek and coming down from your back.
You cast an amused glance at her before turning in her direction with a plate in each hand.
"Mrs’s breakfast is served"
"It’s Miss until I’m married, thank you" she smirks, taking her plate from your hand.
"Watch out, Batlle."
She stick out her tongue at you and you roll your eyes before following her on the sofa in the living room, where you have the habit of having breakfast, with a music channel on. The discussion between you two is easy and playful, plans to go to the beach being even made since you have the day off. As a local, Ona knows exactly where to go to avoid the world. And doing a little road has never been disturbing for you. You love your trips with your cars, make with laughter and songs of your adolescence shouted out loud.
Your plates and glasses finished, you turn to Ona.
"Have you eaten enough?"
You ask while looking at her, lazily stretching. The dishes will wait a little while before being made.
"Not really" said Ona in a dreamy way. "I think I wouldn’t mind a dessert"
You barely have time to realize what she means that she jumps on you (literally) and you find yourself lying all along on the couch, your hands stuck in Ona’s above your head.
"Oh. This kind of dessert" you laugh, although your laugh get stuck in your throat when you feel her lying on you to deposit open-mouth kisses in the hollow of your neck.
She knows exactly what to do and you feel waves of shivers and heat running through your entire body. You lose your feet when you feel her add bites to her kisses, not enough to leave marks, but enough to set your skin on fire.
You finally manage to free your hands and this manage to satisfy your need to feel Ona’s skin on yours. The t-shirt she was wearing found itself carelessly thrown on the ground somewhere, soon followed by yours. The warmth of her body against your skin gives you incredible sensations and you let her body slide between your legs to feel her even closer to you. Grabbing her head with both of your hands, you kiss her, trying to show her all the emotions she makes you feel. Judging by the moan she lets out, it must be pretty convincing.
Your living room being the first thing visible once the front door of your apartment is passed, it would have been almost impossible to try to hide somewhere. You know you would have tried anyway if you had realized earlier that your front door was opening. Yet you and Ona just have time to turn your heads to find out that the intruder is no one but your sister. To whom you had the stupidity to give the double of your keys, on the insistence of your mother.
Your first reflex is to roll Ona behind you and sit in front of her to hide her nakedness, not particularly wanting your sister to see your girlfriend like that.
"What are you doing here?" you ask.
The number of times Patri has set foot here is counted on the fingers of the hand. That she passed without even taking the time to warn you is surprising, but the one who is the most surprised of the three is probably Patri herself. Wide-eyed, she seems about to drop the paper bag with the logo of the local bakery.
You take advantage of her shock to pick up your t-shirts and get dressed and that’s where Patri restarts. You even wonderif she realized in the first instance that the person with whom you were exchanging a kiss qualified Pegi 18 was actually Ona.
"What the fuck is going on here?!"
She’s angry, of course. The bag of the bakery is thrown on a piece of furniture and when you hear her raise your voice, you get up from the sofa to be at her height. By an alignment of the stars you are taller than her by a few centimeters and you thank the nature of this gift, knowing how impressive Patri can be when she's angry.
"Don’t yell at me, you’re at my house, not yours"
"Shut up! You’re so stupid. Just to stand up to me about last night you had to take someone home? And one of our other teammates?"
The statement is so unexpected that you find yourself speechless for a few seconds. You never imagined for a second that your sister would think that you and Ona were just a one-night stand. But it's especially the fact that she imagines that it turns once again around her that annoys you.
"Out of all the girls in the bar you chose Ona? How can you be so immature?"
"And I'm the immature one now"
You’re laughing, nervously of course. You are so angry that you feel your hands shake, but you manage to keep a certain degree of calm when you feel Ona gently settling her arm on you. Over your shoulder, you look at her. You would have preferred to announce your relationship to your sister in better conditions, but since we were there…
However, it's Patri who speaks before you, speaking directly to Ona.
"What about you? Are you crazy or what? My little sister? Let go of her Ona or I swear that you will regret it"
Yeah, you know you’re not doing the right thing either. But the tone she speaks to the woman you love is even worse than the one she spoke to Mapi last night. And that’s all it takes to get you started.
"Don't you dare talk to her like that" you said to her sharply while bypassing the coffee table to face her.
"I came to apologize for speaking badly to you last night, but I would have been better off getting hit by a car apparently"
She keeps screaming and it starts to get on your nerves.
"This idea is tempting to me" you spit
You try to maintain your anger by talking to her coldly, teeth clenched. You feel Ona moving behind you, standing without really knowing what to do. Her presence, however, allows you to realize that it would be better to continue to try to explain yourself rather than respond to Patri’s provocations. So you take a deep breath before speaking again.
"Look, listen to me. It's not what it look like, I k-"
"Yeah, like you two weren't about to fuck on your couch."
Two seconds of astonished silence followed her sarcasm, while you realized that you correctly understood what she just said. And, so suddenly that neither Ona nor Patri had time to realize what was happening, you grab your sister by the collar of her t-shirt to get her out of your house.
"Get. Out."
You raised your voice too and push her out of your apartment with all your strength. You slam the door in her head, then grab her damn bag of croissant, open the door again to throw it in her face and slam it one more time. The neighbors will be happy.
********
Lying on the couch in Ona’s apartment after an intense workout, you’re both watching your new passion series on Netflix. You haven’t looked at your sister or spoken to her for more than a week now and you still as mad at her. You and Ona informed Alexia of the turn of events and after a long discussion with her, you decided to gradually let your teammates know about your relationship.
Most were surprised to learn this, but after seeing the different pieces of the puzzle put together, it didn't seem improbable to them. For her part, Lucy laughed, saying that she already knew and that you were not very discreet when it came to ogling the other. And Mapi slapped you in the back, certifying that you had very good taste. It made you roll your eyes and laughed Ona, but overall you are rather relieved of everyone’s reactions. Even management and the team committee were briefed and made no comments.
There was only Patri.
"I knew he was cheating on her. What a son of a bitch" grumbles Ona, eyes fixing on the screen while lying against you.
You smile and slide your lips into her hair while shifting your attention to the screen. Despite your respective fears, Patri’s behavior didn't distance you, quite the contrary. Your way of doing things hasn't changed during training or matches, both wishing to keep a distance between your professional life and your personal life.
"Language, young lady" you sing before kissing her scalp again.
You are interrupted in your viewing by your phone which starts to vibrate on the coffee table, attracting your attention. You decided not to answer, before the name of the person trying to reach you appeared. "Papi". You frown, extending your arm to grab your phone. Your dad’s not one to call, just texting with dozens of emoji every text.
After putting the episode on Pause, Ona turns on you so that she is lying on her stomach to be able to look at you. Your concern must be seen since she's also frowning.
"Holà?"
"Holà mija" your father calmly answers you, as if you were calling each other every night.
"What's happening?" you asks, not wanting to lose time.
"Nothing, I just wanted to hear you. It's been a while."
"Do I have to remind you who I got my poor lying qualities from?" you ask while bowing an eyebrow.
At the other end of the line, your father laughs softly and this makes you smile despite everything. Always a little lost, Ona questions you with a look. Unable to give her additional information at the moment, you shrug and replace tenderly one of the strands of her bun.
"Maybe, but you have your football skills from me"
"Sure. So, what's up?"
"Well... Patri called."
"Oh."
Here we are. You roll your eyes and put your phone on speakers, allowing your girlfriend to listen to the conversation. After all, she was as involved in the story as you.
"What did Lady Patri say?"
"She said that you had a fight about a random girl and that you threw her out of your apartment. And that since this day you weren't talking to her."
"Ona isn't a random girl for fuck's sake. She's my girlfriend!"
"Language young lady!"
Hearing your father take you back as you did previously almost make laugh Ona and she hides her face in your belly. It’s time for you to keep your seriousness and you bite your lip before resuming more calmly.
"She showed up at my apartment without telling me, even if we had a fight the night before and found me with Ona."
Needless to say what you were doing.
"She started yelling at me and calling me immature and she spoke to her badly, I wasn’t going to throw flowers at her anyway, was I?"
"No."
Your father’s silence lasts a few seconds and you imagine him perfectly thinking while rubbing his chin. No wonder he called you, your mother has always sided with Patri over the years. Your father is different, being the youngest of four boys, he suffered during his childhood with his big brothers. He understands perfectly your point of view and your feelings regarding Patri and her way of wanting to manage your life.
"So you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes"
Ona look back at you and you smirk, wrapping a strand of her hair around your finger.
"Since when are you both together?"
"Since the Euro, when we lost against England."
"So it's quiet serious then"
"It is Papi. I didn't want to talk about it to Patri though it's like she doesn't want me to be happy."
"I wouldn't say that, Muñeca."
You shrugs and another silence passed.
"When you say Ona, it's for Ona Batlle, verdad?"
You hums, still playing with Ona's hair.
"Oh that's good. I met her dad last summer in Australia, did you know he likes to go mushroom too?"
"I’m so glad to know you’ve got something in common with my stepfather, Papi" you laugh with Ona.
"Have you ever met him and her wife officially? I hope you made a good impression on them"
You roll your eyes one more time before giving him your answer, Ona chuckle a little before laying down on you. You relieved about this conversation, even if Patri has once again interfered in your life by mentioning your couple to your parents before doing it yourself. Your father doesn’t seem against your relationship, and he more or less informed you that your mother didn’t either. As for your other brothers and sisters, they don’t seem to care much, but that doesn’t surprise you. They were never for gossip.
********
"Can I have my kiss now?"
Smiling, you were chasing Ona along the corridors of the stadium where you train. The rain having invited itself to the party, the training ground quickly turned into fields of mud, and after a training match you found yourself thrown to the ground following a tackle of your girlfriend. That explains why your body is covered in dirt, mud and grass.
"No!" Ona laughs at you as you try to draw her against you by grabbing her by the bottom of her shirt.
She manages to escape you and starts running. Having been assigned to store the equipment, you are the last to join the changing rooms. All the others rushed to enjoy a good hot shower.
"Come on baby, at least a lovely cuddle?"
"Y/N get of of me!"
Ona isn't really running, if she wanted to escape you it would have been a long time before she would have lost you. Her speed is no longer a secret to anyone. Ona was still laughing and you grin, feeling her slap you on your hand so you drop the piece of her cloth.
"Why? It’s your fault if I’m in this state anyway"
You end up grabbing your girlfriend’s arm and pulling her against you to kiss her tenderly. Willingly letting it happen, Ona puts her arms around your neck and responds to your kiss. Knowing that no one will bother you, you gently wedge her between the wall and you. You didn’t think it could be cold and when you feel her take off quickly and shiver, you laugh softly.
"Sorry" you smile mischievously.
"More kissed and you’ll be forgiven" she whispers against your lips
You oblige easily at her request, putting your lips on hers again. Only to be interrupted by an embarrassed cough. Turning your face in the source of the sound, you discover your sister. Sighing, you take off a little of Ona, without releasing her completely.
"This is the second time, Patri. What do you want?"
"Mom would like to know if you are coming back to Palma this weekend" Patri whispers without looking at you.
You glance at Ona who is also looking at you, before answering her. The team you had to face this weekend cannot receive you because of administrative problems, the game was moved later during the season. You usually go home to your parents when you have a whole free weekend. Except this time, Ona's family invited you for Ona’s mother’s birthday and there’s no way you’re not going.
"I have already said no. Ona and I already have plans."
Patri plays nervously with her fingers before answering you. You don’t know what your mother said to her, but she seems determined to try and patch things up between you.
"Look, if it’s because of our argument…"
"Oh my God Patricia… you never learn from your mistakes?"
"What?"
She look at you, confused, and you sigh. You don't really want to talk to her, but you know that she will never let it go if you don't explain yourself.
"Not everything is about you! I can't go because we're going at Ona's Mom's birthday. Mama already knows that, are you both saying that I'm a liar now?"
"No, of course not."
"So, end of the conversation."
Without any word, you grab Ona by the hand and drag her with you in the locker room. You really need to take this shower now and forget about the interaction you just had with your sister.
********
"Are you thinking about making up with your sister or not?"
Another day, another match and you find yourself in a four-man position with Ona, Alexia and Salma. If Salma plugged in her headphones and listened to music, Ona fell asleep on your knees, leaving only you and Alexia awake for the moment.
"What do you mean?" you ask your captain curiously.
"I know you’ve never been best friends in the world, but she’s still your sister. When my father passed away, my sister and mother were my biggest support and I wouldn’t be where I am now without them."
You bite your lip thoughtfully. You have already met Alba several times and you appreciate her, she is a cheerful and devoted person to Alexia. Proud of her older sister, she doesn't mask her admiration. But what struck you every time was the way Alexia put her little sister on a pedestal. No jealousy, no unhealthy competitiveness.
"The relationship I have with Patri has nothing to do with the one you have with Alba" you point out gently.
"She's still your sister. And I know she's not perfect, but she's really trying to make the things better between you two."
You shrug your shoulders and shift your attention to the window. The train journey is long today, the opposing team being located in the north, you have almost the whole country to cross.
"If she comes to apologize, I might think about it again" you end up answering by glancing at Ona, peacefully asleep. "And not just at me."
Alexia nods with a satisfied little smile. She seems sure it’s going to happen, you’re much less so. You’ve never heard your sister apologize to anyone since she was 10, when your parents stopped asking her to apologize when something was wrong.
********
It didn’t take long for Patri to approach you and attempt reconciliation. The discussion you had with Alexia made you think a little, realizing that you may have been a little too closed to the discussion with your older sister. But you’re still hoping she’ll apologize to you first, before you tell her that maybe she was a little too cold.
You talked to Ona about it, of course. After you arrived at the hotel, you had a few hours to settle in and immediately raised the subject with your girlfriend. The latina, lulled by the love of her older brother from a young age, is obviously not against a reconciliation with Patri. She was never even angry with her, rather sad to see you tear yourself apart in this way. The catalan is definitely for family peace.
After your game, as you walk around the stadium to thank your fans and take some pictures with Lucy, you see your sister sneaking up on you, making sure she’s far enough away from the audience to talk to you.
"Would you like to come drink something with me afterwards? At the hotel restaurant?"
Surprise, you hesitate a split second by biting your lip. But when you see that Patri is about to beg you to accept, you end up nodding with a simple nod.
It’s a little nervous that you come down from your hotel room to find Patri after Ona kissed you tenderly, telling you that she is sure that everything will be fine. For your part, you just hope that no scream will ring between you two.
When you arrive, Patri is already there and beckons you to join her, which you finish by approaching with a face as relaxed as possible. You barely have time to sit down when someone come to take your order and after ordering a Coke Zero you shift your attention to your sister.
"I’m not sure where to start" Patri said, frowning.
"Maybe because of what made you ask me to come here?" you answer with a shrug.
"I don’t want to fight anymore. I know we never got along perfectly well, but it’s never been so strong"
You nod and bite your lip thoughtfully. You have to take it upon yourself to choose the right words and not provoke an argument. Because deep down, you also want things to relax with her. As Alexia said, she’s still your big sister and the same blood is in your veins.
"I’m sorry I reacted the way I did about your relationship with Ona"
You look up at her, waiting for the rest. There’s so much to discuss that you actually don’t know where to start either.
"Like you said, my first reaction was stupid and realizing that you hid your relationship for over a year because of me… First I was hurt and then I realized how stupid I was. All I wanted to do was protect you."
"I’m not three anymore, Patri. And even back then I was pissed that you wouldn’t let me do the big swing, just so you know."
A slight smile appears on your face and it is also born on the face of Patri when she realizes that you make a small touch of humor.
"I chose the wrong way. I’m sorry."
You nod again, sincerely happy to hear these words coming out of your big sister’s mouth. It's certainly time for you to tell her what you think about your behavior.
"I certainly didn’t react in the right way either. But seeing you intervene in my life regularly took away a little more patience each time. And the story with Ona was really the one thing too many, and you talked to her so bad that it drives me crazy."
"I can understand. I'll talk to her to."
Patri’s simple answer suits you once again and you relax a little, letting yourself go against the back of your chair. The night has long since fallen outside and you feel tired of the training and the match of earlier, during which you played the entire time.
"So... You and Ona, it's serious?"
You shift your attention once again to her, taking a few seconds to ensure the substance of the question before answering her.
"I’m in love with her, Patri. We managed to be close to each other when she was in Manchester but since she’s in Barcelona it’s even stronger. She’s just… I don’t know. I just know it’s her."
Patri smiled and nodded gently, before changing the subject of conversation. After about thirty minutes, without having exchanged any argument, you decide to go back to your respective rooms. You are surprised by the hug she offers you before entering her room, but you answer it nevertheless gladly.
When you arrive in your room, Ona is waiting for you, sitting at the edge of her bed. Well, one of the two beds you have glued so that you can sleep together without taking the risk of falling. Even if you always end up in each other’s arms, it remains more comfortable.
"How did it go?" asks you immediately the Catalan, her head tilted to the side to be able to better observe you.
"Good" you just answer, hoping your smile speaks for itself.
After closing the door, you approach her and sit by her side. It doesn’t take her long to grab your hand in hers and intertwine your fingers. Talking to Patri about your feelings for Ona made you realize or recall how much you love her. And how lucky you are to have her by your side. Ona is perfect for you and you love everything about her.
"What did you talk about?"
Ona’s curiosity makes you smile, but you respond willingly. After all, you never hid anything from her and you always had full and blind trust in her. That is not going to change today.
"About our childhood, the different way we see things…"
You shrug your shoulders, trying to pick up the conversation you had. It was intense but clearly necessary. You really hope that everything would be better since now.
"And about us, too" you add with a small smile.
"What did you tell her?"
"That I’m crazy about you"
Your smile gets bigger when you see Ona blushing. She also smiles and you don't waist time to break the distance between your two faces to put a kiss on her lips. It's the pure truth, even if you have never had the opportunity to reveal to her the strength of your feelings for her with simple words. You always felt like they weren’t strong enough to express how you feel about her.
"Well I hope you told her that I'm crazy about you too?" Ona smirks after the kiss.
"You can tell her later. She want to excuse herself to you too"
Ona nods, distracted by your fingers running along her hips. You didn't let her answer anything else, kissing softly her jaw and her neck, determined to celebrate your victory with her and your possible reconciliation with Patri.
********
2 Years Later
"Oh my God Patri, get out!"
A pillow flies through the room and you hear your sister laughing before she quickly closes the door. You don’t know what kind of power it is, but your sister always manages to interrupt you and Ona when things start to get interesting.
Realizing that the atmosphere is dead, you sigh and roll on your back while you were previously lying on Ona for an intense making-out session. Returning to Palma de Mallorca, to your parents for your brother’s birthday, you naturally took Ona with you. Your father loves her and your Mother seems to like her too. The bond between your families is also very good, your fathers having both quickly clicked on the many points they have in common.
"Next time we take a hotel room" you nag, making Ona laugh softly.
Smiling despite yourself, you gently lower her t-shirt that you had raised on her stomach before looking at her when she rolls on her side.
"Or we could take a small apartment here. I really like this place and if we want to change from Barcelona some days we would just jump on the plane. Not even an hour and we’re here."
"Why not" you smile softly.
She smiles back at you when you stroke her face tenderly, drawing imaginary features between her freckles. More than three years have passed and you will never get tired of her. The little box containing the ring you planned to propose to her with tonight is neatly hidden in one of your pairs of socks and you’ve actually booked a room in a local palace for the night. It's indeed out of question to celebrate your engagement in your parents' house, with your sister’s weasel or your nephews and nieces ready to land at any time in your childhood room.
"Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?" you innocently ask Ona.
"I’d go anywhere with you" smiled Ona and you kissed her one last time before you got out of bed.
You discreetly take the box and the ring, sliding it in the pocket of your jeans before joining Ona who awaits you in the corridor.
"I forgot my phone" you’re just answering her questioning look.
You take a look at it and Patri’s message informs you that everything is in place. She’s supposed to take your proposal in photo and video, so that you have a memory of that moment. All Ona has to say is yes. Despite your stress, you know her answer will be positive.
Walking hand in hand, you got lost in your thoughts and Ona is quiet too. But a glance at her informs you that she is smiling and relaxed. Her gaze on the sea returns to you and she addresses you an interrogative glance.
"Are you all right?"
You just nod with a smile, busy remembering the speech you prepared. Despite your certainty, you feel that anxiety is gaining ground and you are happy to see that the place you have designated to Patri is finally there.
"Actually, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about" you start, interrupting your walk.
In the distance, hidden behind a rock, Patri draws her camera when she sees you stop. The video is already on and your big sister is as stressed as you. If she misses what you asked her to do, she could be banned from marriage.
It's with a tender smile that Patri watches the questioning read on Ona’s face, followed by tenderness when you make your statement to her and surprise when she sees you kneeling, the famous ring presented in its case. The following photos contain the moment when you pass the ring on her finger, the one where the latin jumps at your neck and the last is that of your first kiss as fiancées.
Ona said yes, of course.
Because You and Her are forever.
724 notes · View notes
sometimesanalice · 8 months
Text
Leave a Light On
Summary: When Bradley had given you a key to his place, what he probably didn’t expect was to find you there at 2 am sitting at the piano you’d helped him find.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 7k
Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)
(this was the story I was working on back in January, before the 'Like I Can' series and anything else on my masterlist. I'm so excited to share it with you all!)
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When Bradley had given you a key to his place, you imagine he probably thought you’d check on his plants every now and then. That you’d pop by to give them a quick water and then be on your way.
Maybe that you’d take the Bronco out for a quick spin, so that his baby it didn’t sit there too long going unused. You were one of a very small handful of people he trusted to drive his most prized possession. There was something special about being behind the vintage wheel with the sun on your face as you cruised along the highway, even if it wasn’t the same without him sitting there smiling next to you.
He’d already put his mail on hold with the USPS, but you knew that he knew he could count on you to rescue any stray package that might slip through the cracks and make its way to the front door of his charming craftsman bungalow.
What he probably didn’t expect was for you to be there sometime past 2 AM sitting on the creaky bench of the old, but well-loved, piano that you had helped him to find.
You should be tucked away under the comforter of your own bed, in your own room, at your own place.
Instead, your fingers are navigating over the black and ivory keys trying, yet again, to make it through a tricky passage on a song that you’ve spent the better part of the last three months trying to perfect.
He was coming home soon and you couldn’t wait to hold him, to love him, to surprise him.
Each time he leaves, it gets a little easier to miss him. You wear your longing like a locket rather than an albatross around your neck, always there but easier to bear.
Rooster had a way of filling a space in a way you’ve never experienced before. His larger than life charisma was one of the first things that had caught your attention, followed by that damn smile of his.
He was always humming in the kitchen.
Or whistling in the car.
Or playing the piano to decompress after a long day.
Or listening to something on his mom’s refurbished record player.
His presence always so tangible and warm, like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer. With Bradley around, you could wrap yourself up in the sheer comfort of him.
And when he was gone, it was the quiet that you struggled with the most. A constant reminder of just how far away he was. No texts or calls or voice memos throughout the day. No little everyday sweet somethings that let you know he was thinking of you.
The sound of silence followed you everywhere. Its heavy companionship making itself known regardless of how loudly you sang along to his favorite songs on the playlist he had made you or how many times you played through the song you were learning just for him.
You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well.
Parents who stayed together because it was easier than splitting the house and sharing the kid. And on the rare occasions it wasn’t quiet, it was loud. The kind that was inescapable regardless of how much you buried under the covers or how far you tucked yourself away in the corner of the backyard.
Until one day the glossy, satin walnut upright piano appeared along the wall in your barely used dining room. And then it soon became your favorite way to cover the quiet and to mask the loud.
Looking back on it now, maybe your parents had wanted something to fill the silence too.
The hours and hours of lessons you and Bradley had both been forced to sit through as children was something that the two of you had bonded over pretty early on. And while he had kept up with playing, it was something that had fallen to the wayside in your life. First with school, then with a career, and now with purposeful avoidance.
There was once a time when reading sheet music had come as easily to you as reading a book. And then one day, they were just a bunch of random dots scattered in between and across five lines on a piece of paper.
There was once a time when you didn’t even need to look down to know where your fingertips were flying to. And then one day, all your fingers could do was stumble and trip over the keys as you winced at the dissonance it created.
And when Rooster had learned about your mutual musical upbringing, he had made it his personal mission to try and get you to play something for him. He was so sweet, so sincere in the way he’d ask you, all big brown eyes and hopeful smiles.
It had always made your chest tight to brush him off. It was something he clearly wanted to share with you, but that part of you ached like a phantom limb. You didn’t know what would be worse embarrassing yourself or disappointing him with your lack of skill when it was something that you used to be so proud about.
It was easy to dodge him at first during nights out at the Hard Deck with your understandable Not with all these people here’s to your practical Mozart would just bring the vibes down’s to your evasive Maybe next time’s. 
And when his polite requests were met with empty answers, he took it a step further.
One night in his bed, the curtains fluttering as the sea breeze mingled with his sandalwood scent, he’d whispered into your heated skin, “I’ll get you to play something for me one of these days. Maybe I just need to find the right form of bribery.”
His teasing innuendo juxtaposed deliciously with the deliberate touch of his fingers and tongue as he’d played your body to a perfect crescendo.
It reached a point where you couldn’t stomach to see the dejection in his eyes, the hurt he tried so hard to hide when you’d deny him yet again, that you had to own up to your closely guarded secret.
The confession had whooshed out of you in one breath, leaving you feeling deflated and defeated afterwards.
When you eventually mustered the courage to look at him, he’d been wearing the softest look of understanding on his face, as if he could sense the toll it took to admit the loss of that part of yourself. Then he gathered you in his lap and held you, all while the tears of frustration simmered behind your tightly squeezed eyes.
And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less.
You weren’t ready then, not like you are now.
But nothing gave you as much pleasure as it did to watch Rooster seated in front of the well-worn and well-played upright piano of Penny’s at the Hard Deck. There was nothing more exhilarating than seeing him in his element so at home on the bench, scuffed and scratched from performers of the past, as he shared that part of himself with everyone in the bar.
He made it look so easy. So damn effortless. His thick fingers flying purposefully over the keys as he played from memory. His joyous enthusiasm electrifying and substantial enough to get the whole bar singing along with him.
It always drew him a lot of attention.
How could it not? He was magnetic on a bad day and captivating the rest of the time. And entirely too handsome for his own good.
Interested eyes, curious eyes, hungry eyes followed him around more often than not after an impromptu performance.
However, those brown eyes of his were always set on you.
Never wavering, never straying from you as he’d weave his way poco a poco, little by little, back through the packed bar. Handing out high-fives to people on autopilot as he passed by to return back to your side. Glistening with the sweat he worked up and grinning widely as he’d greet you with a How’d I do, sweetheart?. Those big, capable hands sliding around your waist, in the back pocket of your jeans, under your top to rest on your low back.
The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. You didn’t mind helping him find ways to put that excess adrenaline to good use. Usually in the backseat of the Bronco.
You’ll never forget the first time Bradley serenaded you. The song meant for you and you alone.
If someone were to cut into that soft, pink part of your brain, you’re pretty sure they would find that memory pressed there like flowers between the pages of a book. Forever apart of you.
It was the song that always took you right back to that little vinyl shop along the pier. And back to that date that had almost derailed it all.
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When Rooster had picked you up to take you to dinner all those months ago, he had seemed a bit antsy and absentminded.
Sure, he had gotten out of the Bronco to come fetch you like a gentleman, instead of sending some half-assed Here text like your ex had been fond of doing. You thought for sure he’d be hustling you back inside after he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing once you opened your front door to greet him.
So you were surprised when he’d simply pressed a dry kiss to your cheek and escorted you to his car with a hand placed respectfully between your shoulder blades instead of cheekily in that space between your low back and ass.
That spot that toed the line between decent and indecent. That spot that made him smirk when you’d give him a pointed lift of the eyebrow, because the two of you knew exactly what he was doing. And better yet, liked it.
However, that night it was almost like he was going through the motions, like he was already somewhere else.
The car ride to the restaurant was silent except for the white noise of the highway as he drove. The circular knob for the radio set to the left.
Off.
Which in hindsight should have been your first warning, since Bradley was never not listening to the Oldies station. A vintage vibe for your vintage boy. 
When you were finally seated across from him at that new trendy Thai place you had been dying to go to, his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping out some unheard tune. On the tops his thighs. On the top of the table.
His eyes were landing everywhere else other than on you. On the large leaves of the potted palms, on the ornate pattern on the gold silk that was swathed across the ceiling, on the intricate hand-painted tiles on the floor.
You’d been trying to carry on a conversation for the past fifteen minutes and were feeling completely on edge when you had to repeat yet another question for him.
The anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach had been getting more and more difficult to ignore. You could tell he wasn’t really there, what you were trying to figure out was whether or not he just didn’t want to be there with you.
And god, the drinks hadn’t even come out yet. There wasn’t anything for you to distract yourself with other than your water glass, and even that was already empty except for a few melting ice cubes.
His half answers and noncommittal noises were rapidly clearing things up for you.
He’s breaking up with me.
It was at that crushing realization that the waitress had returned with your drink orders. The bright orange concoction that she set in front of you had been topped with a lovely purple orchid and glittery swizzle stick.
A happy looking cocktail for the girl who thought she was going to have another great date with the guy who was saved in her phone as “Golden Boy”.
“Have you two decided on what you want to eat? Or would you like to hear the chef’s specials again?” the waitress had asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Bradley.
You could tell that she was sensing the brewing tension between the two of you.
“I don’t think we’ll here much longer, maybe just the check--”
“Sorry, if we could have a few more minutes to decide--”
You’d both started speaking at the same time only to turn to the other wearing matching faces of absolute confusion. He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers finally still on the tabletop. The shock in his eyes was apparent, and you could only assume it was there because you beat him to the punch.
The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave.
It was the look that she’d given you that had really sealed the deal for you, and wasn’t that just great? You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the waitstaff was already hearing about the couple fighting at Table 12 and taking bets about whether or not they’d break up.
Lucky them, dinner and a show.
You’d reached the fruity drink in front of you, the condensation from the glass leaving a ring on the table and took a large sip for moral support. Feeling the weight his stare on you the whole time as you savored the tart taste of passionfruit as it burst across your tongue.
He’d just have to wait. It was your turn to ignore him.
As you’d swallowed it down, it had left you feeling more than a little angry that it tasted so good when you were feeling so shitty. He knew how much you liked an over the top cocktail, why couldn’t he have picked some dingy hole-in-the-wall to do this at rather than ruin this place for you? The hot prickling sensation of righteous indignation filled your chest.
You really didn’t want it to drag out any longer, setting your liquid courage back down you’d met his stare and got right down to it, “If you’re going to break up with me, Rooster, can you just do it now? I’d like to still be able to order Pad See Ew in the future without thinking about you and this moment.”
You removed the napkin from your lap, folding it up primly before placing it back upon the table as you waited for the final nail in the coffin to be pounded in on the remains of the happiest-and-easiest-and-clearly-too-good-to-be-true relationship you’ve ever had.
“Wait, what? I don’t want to break up.” His eyes were wide and searching, the hurt in his voice had been evident. And it was the first time all evening that he seemed to be present with you, like your Golden Boy had finally showed up to the date. “I thought things were going well. More than well, actually.”
“Yeah. I mean, I did too. Until tonight,” you’d agreed, defeatedly. “I’m really confused here. You’ve been completely distant tonight. Not to be vain, but look at me,” you gestured to the sexy lowcut dress you’d worn for the evening. It was something you’d been saving in your closet for the right occasion. And you’d thought it was going to drive him wild, but he hadn’t even given it a second glance.
You’d leaned in a bit, lowering your voice, “It’s a boob and leg dress, Bradley. I look really fucking hot, and frankly, I didn’t even think we were going to make it here once you saw this. It wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve missed a dinner reservation. And you haven’t said a single thing about it.”
It felt like a silly thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but his inattentiveness that evening had stung more than you’d wanted to admit to.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed,” he’d retorted hotly. His eyes had been heated as he’d matched your movement and leaned in further across the table. “Half the men in here noticed it too the second you walked in.”
You didn’t bother trying to hold back your scoff of frustration, the man was infuriating.
“Then I don’t understand why you’re making me feel like being here- with me- is the last place you want to be right now?” You’d given up on trying to sound unaffected, this was not the evening you had envisioned. It felt like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unable to see what exactly you were hurtling towards.
“I got my new orders today,” he’d blurted out, his eyes trying to read yours for the reaction. “I’m being send as aerial escort for a diplomatic mission. I ship out next Monday for six weeks.”
He’d told you later that he was grateful it wasn’t a longer one, he knew he was lucky because he could have just as easily been sent away for a deployment longer than you’d actually been together.
“Oh.”
You’d known that that moment would have happened eventually with his job, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. However, it was one thing thinking about it theoretically rather than looking at a ticking clock with a deadline.
“Cards on the table, sweetheart?” He’d waited for you to nod before continuing on, “I am really fucking into you. I’m trying not to put pressure on this, because I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal, get you a couple of those complicated fun drinks you like. I even looked at the menu in advance, they have one here that they light on fire and it seems like something you would love.”
He was right, it was something that you’d love. You had even eyed it when you first got the menu, but you hadn’t wanted to get anything that would draw you more attention when you already felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you.
“Then I wanted to take you home with me and tell you after we had a great time out. I wanted to ask you to save that Sunday before I leave for me, so that we could spend the whole day together.” His fingers had started playing that unheard tune on the table again. “I wanted to show my girl the best time, to keep her wanting to come back and to stick around. So that someone else doesn’t catch her eye, so that I don’t lose her to someone better than me while I’m away.”
His confession had your heart taking up residence in your throat. Having him lay it out for you so clearly and knowing that he’d felt as serious about you as you did about him was everything you had wanted to hear. However, one thing nagged at you.
“Bradley, you make me happy. Like really, really happy. I’ve only got eyes for you. If I’m being honest, this stopped being casual to me around our third date. And I trust you enough to know you’d tell me if this”, you’d gestured between the two of you, “wasn’t what you wanted anymore before starting up with someone else. I hope I have that same trust in return, because if you’re worried about me stepping out on you while you’re away, I don’t know how this is going to work. And I really want it to work.”
“Shit, I’m really striking out here. Batting 0 for two,” he’d sighed out more to himself than to you, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Our third? Really? I thought for sure after that disaster that you were going to block my number.” He huffs a laugh, cheeks turning the same shade of pink that they had that chaotic evening on the beach.
“Bradley, it was comically bad.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the memory of it. “You were trying so hard and you were so flustered. It was so endearing.”
“Who would have guessed getting attacked by seagulls and coming home covered in sand flea bites could have been so appealing?” He joked self-deprecatingly.
“Me, I could have. Since I was with you,” you said sincerely, “No one I’ve dated has ever put half as much effort into trying to make me happy as you have.”
The two of you exchanged a soft, tentative smiles.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you had a wandering eye or anything, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with you as he reached for your hands and threaded his fingers through yours, his palms slightly sweaty. “This deployment is different for me. I’ve never had to ask someone to wait for me before, never had anyone who wanted to. And I’ve been really in my head because I was trying to find the right way to tell you, to ask you.”
You were still getting to know all of the expressions of his face, but the look of open insecurity he was wearing was new to you. And you’d felt something deep in your chest release and unlock.
For how easily he owned a room, for how confident he could be, getting to see these tender parts of him because he trusted you with them had made you ache in the most bittersweet of ways for the man who was in front of you.
You held his gaze, taking in his anxious expression. How anyone couldn’t want this man or didn’t think he was worth the wait was incomprehensible to you.
“So Sunday the seventeenth, huh?” you’d said with a grin.
His relief was palpable as he’d squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “Yeah, baby, you up for it?”
“A perfect day with my dream guy?” you mused, squeezing his hand back, “Yeah, I think I’d be up for that. I’m up for all of it.”
Not just the date. Not just the deployment. You already knew. With him, you wanted it all.
When the waitress returned a few moments later, Bradley ordered a green curry for himself and the Pad See Ew for you. Along with one of those complicated, fun drinks that arrived with fanfare and flames, all while he played with your fingers.
And after you were finished, she’d dropped off a fluffy looking coconut covered dessert that she’d stated was on the house as walked away with a wink.
You’d totally called it, dinner and a show.
As you’d left the restaurant, he tucked you in close under his arm pressing kiss after kiss to your temple as you made your way back to the Bronco.
And later, when he had taken you back to his place for the night, your boob-and-leg dress forgotten somewhere on the floor, he’d apologized again. This time with his mouth on your body.
Twice.
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It had been a fluke, really, finding that record tucked away in that small, but well-kept shop on that Sunday before his deployment.
You’d surprised him with a certificate for a haircut and hot towel shave at an upscale barber for a little pre-deployment pampering. He’d gotten his hair trimmed the day before and he was somehow looking even more sunkissed than usual. His patterned shirt was mostly buttoned up and he had on your favorite pair of jeans- the ones that might have been a bit too snug, but did devastating things for his ass.
It was the outfit he’d been wearing when you had first met.
You and Bradley had spent a lazy, perfect morning at the beach reading and lounging and trading sea salt kisses before changing and to grab a bite to eat. He’d held up a towel up around you to slip into your sun warmed dress, behaving himself for the most part. But you’d still caught him sneaking a peek from over the top of the terry cloth.
After eating a late lunch at his favorite little café that served the best cioppino, you’d popped in and out of the various shops that dotted the boardwalk near the pier. It might have been the bottle of wine you shared, but he made sure to stop at every photobooth you passed along the way, collecting strip after strip of snapshots and tucking them into his shirt pocket.
His hand staying in yours the whole time.
When he’d spotted the tiny record store, he’d cheerily pulled you along with him wanting to look for new additions for his ever-growing collection. It was his newest hobby after getting his mom’s old record player restored. You had even helped him build the sideboard he had specially ordered for it to display his prized collection in the living room of his home.
You could hear him talking excitedly to an associate about some Jerry Lee Lewis albums, who offered to take a look in the backroom for him. You never had good luck when you tried to search for specific things, so you were happy to meander around a bit aimlessly and see what spoke to you.
Casually flipping through the stacks, you’d gasped when you landed on what appeared to be the holy grail of all vinyl records ever made.
“Bradley, look!” You’d held out the record for him like a prize. And he abandoned his own search to come join you on the other side of the store.
“Soldiers’ Sweethearts, huh?” He grinned at your find, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The navy colored jacket highlighted a trio of glamourous looking women, each of the three records featured a different performer and their covers of songs popularized during WWII.
“Mm-hmm,” you’d preened, feeling entirely too pleased with yourself. “You’re a soldier, I’m a sweetheart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life. I have to get it.”
“Well I’m not a soldier, technically,” he’d chuckled, as you’d rolled your eyes at him. The joke had you scrunching your nose, and his mustache grazed you as he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to it. “But you’re definitely a sweetheart, sweetheart.”
You were still trying to learn the ins and outs of that part of his life. But you’d liked how he never made you feel stupid when you had questions. More often than not he seemed excited to answer them for you, that you were interested in what he did.
Rooster gently took your newest most prized possession into his big hands, “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Flipping the album over, he’d scanned the tracks listed on the back for the three records. “Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd.
The man was a menace and had no problem finding new ways to make you blush. You were grateful that the shop was empty except for the two of you, as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.
“What about ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’? Have you heard that one before, sweetheart?” His large body moving in and crowding yours, the smell of his cologne making your thoughts go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your heartbeat kicked up in tempo as he brushed a piece of hair off your forehead.
That find was definitely a jackpot.
Him and those records.
“Mm, or how about ‘Make Love To Me’?” He’d murmured into your ear, his free arm slid slowly against your waist, making a home for itself low on your back. The warmth from his hand seeping through your dress and into your skin.
It was heady being the target of all his heated words and teasing tone. The pull in your low stomach getting more intense with every moment you’d stayed pressed against his hard body. You could see how his pulse was pounding arditamente con forza, boldly with force, from how close your face was to that thick throat of his. And you had wanted to--
“I knew we had it somewhere!”
The associate’s cheery announcement as he returned from the backroom startled you back into yourself. Feeling flustered you’d tried to pull away, but Bradley just kept his arm locked around you as he’d made his way to the counter.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. We’ll take this one too,” he stated as he’d smoothly placed your Soldiers’ Sweethearts album on the top of the pile he had accumulated. Only letting go of you to pay.
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Naturally, you’d wanted to play the record the second you made it back to Bradley’s place.
He set it up for you before giving you a lingering, deep kiss leaving you to your own devices as he worked on the final few things left on his to-do list before his deployment early the next morning.
You were happy to make yourself comfortable on his wide seat couch with an Old Fashioned listening to Jo Stafford’s soothing voice with your eyes closed, wanting to luxuriate in the moment.
One where Bradley was less than twenty feet away puttering around in his kitchen and humming and murmuring to himself.
One where you could call out to him and he would be in front of you in a few long strides.
You wanted to avoid thinking about the next day and the beginning of your new normal.
One where you couldn’t expect text messages from him throughout the day.
One where concern and uncertainty would follow you around like a dark cloud until he came back home to you.
But he was here for now. And you wanted to savor it all, to soak up all of its sweet, syrupy goodness like the expensive cherry in your glass.
He must have sensed the turn in your thoughts because his sandalwood scent gave his closeness away before his voice did, “What do you say, Miss Soldiers’ Sweetheart? Can you spare a dance for me?”
You opened your eyes to see him standing before you with his hand outreached for you. The smile so gentle and open on his face, made it impossible for you to do anything other than wordlessly nod your head in agreement as you’d let him pull you up from your comfy perch.
“Apologies in advance for any injuries caused by my two left feet,” you joked a bit bashfully as he wrapped his arm around you.
“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured.
He pulled you into his gravity, pressing your joined hands against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. The hand on your lower back urging closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head where you had tucked it into that safe space where his neck meets his shoulder.
take me in your arms, and never let me go whisper to me softly while the moon is low
True to his word, he’d guided you in a smooth, easy rhythm. The confidence in his steps as you were held within his sturdy arms was enough to make you feel secure in your own movement. With him you were completely taken care of.
hold me close and tell me what I wanna know say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow
Your other hand slid up slowly from where it was resting on his shoulder to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as your thumb traced the thick column of his throat.
Come a little closer, make love to me
He held you tighter, held you closer, as the song came to an end. The easy rhythm turning into a gentle sway that continued as the next song began. And the one after that.
That night in his bed he moved against you with such purpose, such tenderness. The sex with Bradley was always stunningly good, he was never content to let himself come until he’d rendered you thoroughly boneless and breathless. He was easily the best you’ve ever had, but that night it was different between you two.
The mood weighty and intense, both of you exposed in a way you hadn’t been before. But there was no mistaking the deliberate way he touched you, the unwavering way he rolled his hips against yours, the unguarded way he held your gaze as if he was committing that moment to memory as he made love to you.
He’d held you close to his warm body, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps, as you shivered through your orgasm. His mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered soothing sweet somethings until he followed you over the edge.
For Bradley, you were up for it. For him, you’d be up for all of it.
yesyesyes
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Things were a bit too quiet for you.
You heart clenched in a different way when you looked at Penny’s piano on those evenings you spent with the Dagger Squad without him. The ache was still there, but so was a new kind of longing. Part for him, but also for yourself.
But you’d made it through that deployment with the help of your three favorite sweethearts: Jo, Vera and Anne. Although you always queued up one song in particular anytime you found yourself missing him a bit more than normal.
And when Bradley returned back home to you six weeks later, it was easy to fall right back into him. That quiet period was almost too easily forgotten when he was around to fill a space.
That night at the Hard Deck when he serenaded you for the first time, it was normal for him to strut over to the old jukebox to unplug it. His timing impeccable as always, silencing whatever country song Jake had queued up.  
What wasn’t normal was the way he took you by the hand leading you directly to the old upright and pulled you right onto the bench next to him.
There was already some sheet music spread across the shelf, you’d noted as he’d wiped his hands on the outside of his jeans before settling his hands on the keys. It only took you a couple bars of the intro to realize what song he was playing, already completely enamored before he’d even opened his mouth to sing.
It was your song.
Nothing in the world could ever compete with Bradley Bradshaw’s deep, raspy voice singing just for you. The significance of the song meant for you and him alone.
You heart had swelled in your chest until you thought it might burst from happiness. Never in your life had you been so thoroughly swept off your feet. It was a gesture came from his heart that made a home in yours.
Ever the showman Rooster put on a full performance, his aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose as he really leaned into it.
Your wide grin had turned to laughter when a few members of the Dagger Squad jumped in as back-up vocals, singing into their beer bottles in a way that obviously had been rehearsed. You didn’t know how he managed to keep it a secret. While Rooster was a vault in his professional life, when it came to his personal life Bradley couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
The whole bar was having fun with the jaunty tune, some couples dancing along in smooth circles on the sticky wood floor as he crooned. He’d leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek every now and then in between verses, and you’d felt yourself fall for him even harder.
He’d pulled you into his lap once he was done playing, as the din of the resumed chatter softly cocooned you. You’d seen all you needed to know reflected in his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.
“Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips.
“Yes, ma’am.” And you rested your head on his shoulder watching his fingers get into position on the keys once more as he played the few opening notes.
Somewhere you heard a groan followed by a grumbled, “Not again.”
“Shut it, Bagman,” you bossed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. You only had eyes for Bradley.
“You heard the lady,” he chuckled. “Shut it, Bagman.”
And then he played it again.
take me in your arms, and never let me go
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You should be asleep in your own bed and not at his place with only the soft light of the lamp above his piano and a now cold cup of tea to keep you company.
Tired of tossing and turning, you’d given up on the idea of getting any sleep at your own place after the second hour of trying. Throwing on your slippers, you’d grabbed your keys and then drove over to his place, still in the oversized t-shirt you’d put on before bed, in hopes that scent of his sheets would help lull you to sleep.
But all it did was make you miss him more.
It was too quiet without his soft breathing next to you as he held you close and tucked against his chest.
Too quiet without his records.
Too quiet without his happy humming.
Too quiet without him.
The sound of the tea kettle on his gas range had helped fill the silence, but it was his piano that had called you as you had waited for the water to boil. The sheet music you had left there from the last time you were over beckoning like a siren’s song.
It was your secret.
Only for a few more days, only until he came home.
You wanted to surprise him, to sweep him off his feet the way that he always did with you when he played for you.
During that first deployment, for the first time in years, your fingers yearned for the feel of cool, smooth keys beneath your fingers.
You hadn’t even told Bradley, the one person who would understand it the most, that you’d been thinking about it. Let alone that you were actually taking classes again. Making up excuses about manicures or errands or spin classes for why you were busy for an hour every Tuesday at five PM.
The thing that had once hurt your heart the most, was now the only thing that helped soothe the ache of missing him. The only thing that made you feel close to him when you were thousands of miles apart.
You wanted that familiar comfort of making music. You wanted it because you missed him, but you also wanted it for yourself.
A co-worker had given you the name and number for her kids’ instructor, Mrs. McMullen, an elderly woman who started teaching after her husband passed away. It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into.
You had been an anxious mess the day of your first lesson, hands shaking like you’d had one too many shots of espresso. It felt strange, a little surreal sitting there in the body you’d grown into on the padded bench in her cozy living room. One of the walls filled with shelves and shelves of sheet music, her own personal library.
And for a brief moment, you were transported to a different year on a different bench in a different room. Now and Then. Older and Younger. Both versions of you there to learn. All too familiar, yet entirely new.
You started with the basics. A reintroduction to those lines on the page and the notes that spoke their own language for those who knew how to read it.
Your fingers wanting to move quicker than your sluggish mind, like an echo of a memory of how it used to be. You winced and apologized after every wrong note, until she put her hand on yours, her skin looked as delicate as her fingers did, and said gently, “We learn by doing, mistakes only mean that you are trying. Once more, once again.”
After that first lesson, you’d gone back to your car and promptly burst into tears. Overwhelmed tears, happy tears. That tender part of you still soft, however no longer aching.
You’d left feeling lighter as you pulled away from her house to go meet up with everyone at the Hard Deck, but also with a packet of sheet music to practice for your next lesson.
When Rooster had told you about getting his new orders, when he had asked you again if you were still up for it. You’d told him the same thing you had at that date, you were up for it all.
You would take the sadness with the sweet any day of the week for as long as he was yours.
You’d known how you would fill the space he left behind. And exactly how you wanted to welcome him home. You’d been excited to put that certain song just for him in your cart, and then tacking on one more song to your order, a song that would be just for you.
Both you and Mrs. McMullen had be surprised at how you’d been able to pick things back up over the months, you still weren’t anywhere as good as you were when you were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as it used to be. And when you showed up to your next lesson after your songs had been delivered, she was more than happy to help you figure out ways to simplify the songs a bit so that you’d be ready when he returned.
And now you’re bent over Bradley’s piano with a pencil tucked behind your ear as you played through the hardest bit of the song, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve gone over it tonight. This morning? You were in that liminal space between yesterday and today. Where the time on the clock was just a suggestion because it felt neither here nor there.
You had practiced and practiced the song you had wanted to play for him once got home. You’re pretty sure Mav wasn’t supposed to tell you the significance of that particular song, but it had made your heart flutter wildly in your chest when he’d told you. And every time you’ve heard it since then.
It was polished, it was perfect, it was ready. All you needed was him.
The one you’re playing now con amore, with love, is the piece you pull out when you long for him the most.
The cover of the song had made you think of him from the moment you’d heard it. It was more lyrical and delicate than the original, and captured just how you felt about him. Just how much he meant to you. Sometimes you sing along with it, sometimes you just let the keys and pedals express the things you otherwise could not.  
It was the song of your heart.
Your fingers trip over one of the notes yet again, probably from the lack of sleep, but you weren’t ready to crawl back into Bradley’s comfy bed. Not just yet.
Sighing, you pull the pencil from behind your ear, muttering to yourself out loud as you note the spot on the page. It was already filled with little pencil marks, some older and some newer. All made because you were trying.
Once more, once again.
Breathing out slowly, you settle your hand back on the keys-
“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"
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Read {vol. ii} here!
He's a sneaky one, friends! I have Part 2 in the works, not to worry! We have to see how it all plays out! (put intended)
Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for the grand finale!
Here's a link to the Soldiers' Sweethearts Album, if you're curious!
But this is their song, the one Bradley serenaded her with! Jo Stafford's version of 'Make Love to Me'
I ended up making two moodboards for this part!
Here's the more colorful one! And here's the more yearn-y one!
You can check out my other stories here!
And a big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me spam you about this one!
Taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
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girlgenius1111 · 2 months
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always want you
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ingrid x mapi x reader
with mapi injured, and ingrid running herself ragged with the team, r does everything she can think of to take some of the stress of them. she neglects herself in the process though, until an injury forces her to slow down. she doesn't take it very well.
You'd truly never been so stressed in your life. Your to do list felt never ending, and it was your own doing. Obviously, you'd taken on more at home, cleaning, laundry, and cooking, when Mapi had gotten hurt. She was still on crutches weeks later, and still incredibly needy. It had been manageable, with Ingrid helping you take care of her. The teams demands had a huge impact on Ingrid, though, as she tried to figure out her new role in the squad. She'd been doing amazing, something you and Mapi reminded her everyday, but she was so tense all the time, constantly thinking about how she could improve. She wasn't used to being relied upon at this level by the team, and she was struggling to handle it, you could tell.
You'd taken more and more chores off her hands, unable to sit back and watch her fight through tears cooking dinner after another long day, until you were insisting on her doing the same amount that Mapi was allowed; nothing. It was completely self imposed; either one of them would be happy to help you, but you wouldn't let them.
They were aware of how much you were doing, trying to help you with it all, but the more they pushed, the more you pulled away. They needed you, both of them, and you couldn't let them down. You couldn't need them back, not when there was so much to do.
You were having a rough time playing too, not that you'd ever admit it. You felt like you weren't playing well enough, not scoring enough, not good enough. You were training more, exhausting yourself. It was inevitable, really, that you would get hurt. You were overworking yourself, and you weren't invincible. Realistically, it should have happened sooner, and it should have been muscular. You'd taken a shoulder to the head during the last game, ending up with a concussion. You were more angry with yourself than your team had ever seen you, convinced that you should have avoided the body falling on top of you.
Half the team had tried to make you feel better after the game, and none of them were successful. It was a home game, so Mapi was in the stands, and Ingrid drove the three of you home. You were completely silent the whole way, Ingrid and Mapi talking quietly in the front seat while you sat in the back, fighting dizziness and pain in your head. You were spacing out, thinking about the laundry that really needed to be done, not even noticing when Ingrid pulled into the driveway.
"Y/n?"
You turned your attention forward, seeing both of your girlfriends anxious faces looking back at you. It was obvious that it was not their first time trying to get your attention.
"Yeah?"
"We're home, corazón," Mapi said, eyes searching yours.
"Right, yeah." you mumbled, moving to get out of the car. They followed you, Mapi taking longer with her crutches. You'd barely taken a step when you wobbled, dizziness taking over.
"Easy, elskling," Ingrid said, holding you upright.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," you insisted, shrugging out from her hands. She looked like she wanted to disagree, but the dizziness had passed, and you didn't look at her as you grabbed both of your bags out of the back, heading inside. You held the door for her and Mapi, lost in your thoughts, missing completely the way both of their eyes lingered on you as they passed.
Both you and Ingrid had showered in the locker room, and your girlfriends were looking forward to a lazy night on the couch. Both of them collapsed onto the couch once inside, looking expectantly at you to join them. You wanted to join them, you really did. Snuggle up right in the middle, in your spot. It was so appealing, Ingrid's curly wet hair, smelling of coconut, Mapi's warm sweatshirt. You wanted to bury yourself in between them, and never come out. Of course, you didn't. Instead, you put your bags away, eyes scrunched as you tried to get used to the light, heading into the bedroom to get a load of laundry going.
"She's going to make herself sick, Ingrid, especially with this concussion," Mapi said quietly.
"I know," Ingrid sighed. "I don't know how to get her to listen, though, you know how off she's been recently. She won't let me help."
"Try Stern Ingrid, that usually works," Mapi suggested. Ingrid schooled her features, throwing Mapi a glare, making her snort. "Perfect." She assured the Norwegian.
You're heading back out of the bedroom, laundry basket in hand, when Ingrid rises from the couch and stops you in your tracks, a soft hand resting on your shoulder.
"Leave the laundry, love, come relax with us. I'll do it tomorrow." Her words are kind but her tone leaves little room for argument. You're the most stubborn person she knows, though, and she's not surprised when her first try is unsuccessful.
"No, I got it," you said, attempting to move past her. Her hand tightens on your shoulder, and you roll your eyes, again trying to shake her off.
"I'm serious, elskling, you don't need to do that tonight. You need to rest."
"Listen to Ingrid, princesa, come relax with us," Mapi chimed in, peaking over the edge of the couch at you.
"I don't have time to relax," you said, finally pulling free of Ingrid and stomping towards the washing machine. She's faster than you, no doubt in her mind that you're reaction time is slower with your concussion, grabbing the laundry basket out of your hands, and holding it behind her back when you whirl around, scowling. The fast turn ends up being a mistake, as the world tilts and spins around you. You sway, squeezing your eyes shut. Ingrid drops the basket carelessly, reaching out to steady you. You allow it for only a moment, even briefly leaning into the contact, before you pull back, a frustrated noise leaving your mouth.
"You need to sit down, y/n, now." Ingrid says, moving closer to you.
"NO!" you yelled, startling both girls. Mapi's never hated being so immobile before; your face is scrunched in pain, hands clenched tightly into fists at your side, and you look so exhausted, it makes her chest ache.
"I don't need to sit down, I need to get this done. I don't have time to relax, do you not understand that? There isn't enough time in the fucking day for me to do everything I need to, and you guys are only making it harder," you shouted, voice still raised.
Ingrid and Mapi stare at you for a minute, stunned. You never yelled. Ever. Neither of them were really sure how to respond. Ingrid took a chance, walking forward and grabbing your wrist, before pulling you towards the couch. You fight her grip again, but it's unrelenting, and she points at the couch, looking at you with one raised eyebrow.
"Ingrid-"
"-No. Lay down. I'm not asking."
Your tears finally escape, sliding down your cheeks as you give up, sitting on the edge of the couch, spine completely straight, as if afraid to let yourself relax. Ingrid is grabbing your legs before you know it, pulling them up on the couch, while Mapi guides your head into her lap. She's in the corner of the sectional, and you fit perfectly against her, both of you able to recline.
"I can't-" you try again, although you don't try to move.
"Yes, you can. Don't move." Ingrid warns, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Mapi ran her fingers through your hair comfortingly, occasionally wiping away the tears falling from your eyes. Ingrid returns with some pills and a glass of water, and you follow her unspoken instructions, swallowing dutifully, before sinking back down into Mapi's lap. Now that you've laid down, you aren't sure you'd be able to get back up, even if you wanted to. It's quiet for a couple moments, none of you quite sure what to say.
"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Ingrid says quietly, and you shrug noncomitally. You move off Mapi, allowing her to slowly make her way into the bedroom, sitting up with your head in your hands on the couch.
"Can I just have a second, please?" You whisper, resisting Ingrid's insistent attempts at eye contact. The Norwegian hesitates, before leaving a kiss on the top of your head, and following Mapi down the hall.
You feel horrible, wracked with guilt. They were just trying to help you, and you'd shouted at them for no reason. They needed space from you now, you're sure. Being around them is intoxicating, almost always makes you fold, makes you break. The distance now, though, allows you to refocus, and you force yourself to pull it together until you can be alone again. You take a few deep breaths, wiping your face off on your shirt, and walking down towards the bedroom. You stop in the doorway. Mapi is laying on the bed, eyes on you, while Ingrid has her back to you, rifling through her pajama drawer.
"I'm gonna sleep in the extra bedroom," you say, unsuccessfully trying not to let your voice crack, showing the emotion you are valiantly attempting to hide.
Both girls' heads snap to look at you, and they speak in perfect unison. "No, you are not."
You can only shake your head, biting down on your lip, not willing to cry in front of them, not when you were in the wrong.
"Princesa," Mapi coos, holding out a hand towards you. "Please just come get in bed."
"No, it's okay, you guys need space from me, you definitely don't want to be around me right now," you say, beginning to ramble. Ingrid silently moves closer to you, taking your face in her hands. Her thumb delicately swipes a tear off your cheek. She feels her own eyes welling with tears as she takes in the agonized expression on your face.
"We never need space from you, my girl. Come get in bed. Please." Ingrid states, tone almost begging, not that she cares. You don't move, and Ingrid takes the opportunity to guide you over to the bed, sitting you on the edge, before tossing you some pajamas. You change into them mechanically, both your girlfriends watching you closely, watching the way your eyes stay stuck on the doorway, as if you're about to bolt any second. You stay on the edge of the bed, until Ingrid climbs onto her side, and gently tugs the back of your shirt. You turn towards her, eyes still downcast.
"Are you sure?" you mumble.
"Yes," they assure you, again speaking at the same time. Your body is stiff as you scoot up the bed, sliding under the covers in between them. You make yourself as small as possible, curling up on your side facing Mapi. It's quiet in the room, the only sounds audible being the occasional uneven breath, occasional sniffle from you. You've kept your eyes shut, not feeling capable of looking either of them in the eye right now.
Ingrid moves slowly, at first just splaying a hand across your back. You're so tense it looks uncomfortable, and she moves closer, curling herself around your back, larger body enveloping yours.
"Relax, baby." she whispers in your ear. The contact is pushing you closer and closer to the edge of a breakdown, one you aren't even sure you don't want anymore. You relax slightly into Ingrid's body, and only then does Mapi move, sliding down and propping herself up on her elbow, free hand tracing lightly over your cheek. She leans forward after a minute, lips lightly leaving a kiss on your nose, then one on each cheek, one on your forehead, and finally, one on your lips. When she pulls away, you grip onto her shirt, taking a deep, stuttering breath.
"I can't," you start, trying to get them to leave you alone. Don't they understand that if they keep being so soft, so kind, you'll break?
"Yes, you can. You don't need to be strong all the time. We're here, you can just let go." Mapi says. You shake your head stubbornly.
"Come on, love. You don't have to pretend around us," Ingrid promises. "We want you even when you are sad."
You aren't sure if you just reach your breaking point, or if her last sentence pushes you over the edge, but you let out a harsh sob, pressing your face into the pillow under you. Ingrid clings to your back, feeling your body shake under her. Mapi moves forward again, allowing you to bury your face in her chest. Your cries are muffled now, squished between your two favorite people. You have no control, no ability to stop yourself from falling apart in front of them.
They're support is unyielding, though, neither of them moving away from you for even a second. You're soaking Mapi's shirt with tears, but both of them are whispering soft reassurances to you, ones you try to let yourself hear. You cry for a while, long enough that your head is pounding, though that might be from the concussion, and your throat feels raw. You don't really remember stopping, either. You must, pathetically, have fallen asleep whilst crying.
Ingrid and Mapi hear your breathing even out, tears having finally stopped falling down your face. The Norwegian looks up at your other girlfriend, then, looking devastated, and Mapi sighs roughly, reaching a hand over to cradle Ingrid's cheek.
"It's not your fault, Ingrid,"
"I shouldn't have let her do everything, and I should have noticed she was struggling." Ingrid whispered, looking down at you like you're the most precious thing in the world, and she's broken you.
"Then I should have too, but you don't blame me, do you?"
"You have one working leg, María, I'm completely fine, yet I let her go crazy taking over everything in the house." Ingrid argued miserably.
"Don't pretend you haven't been stressed too, Ingrid," Mapi said sternly. "You don't get to blame yourself. That won't help her, and it won't help you."
"How do we help her?" Ingrid asks after a minute, looking between the two of you.
"We get her to talk. Something is going on, or she wouldn't be acting so weird. And I've never seen her cry this hard." Mapi swallows thickly. "We get her to tell us what's bothering her, and we fix it."
Ingrid gets the impression that if you told Mapi that going to the moon would make you feel better, the Spaniard would find a way to do it. She softens at this thought, heart overwhelmingly full looking between the two of you. Even though your face is stained with tears, and Mapi's leg is wrapped in white gauze, there isn't a more beautiful sight. Not to her.
"Sleep, princesa," Mapi tells her, leaning over you to kiss Ingrid softly on the lips. "Te amo." She leans down to you, kissing your forehead as you sleep, whispering the same thing against your skin.
Ingrid does the same, pulling you closer into her body as she gets comfortable. It's harder for Mapi, but she manages to shift so that she's on her back, head tilted so her face is pressed into your shoulder. You wake up, just slightly, at the movement around you.
"Love you," you mumble, deciding that both of them are going to have to make do with not being addressed specifically. You relax back into them, the stress and anxiety that had been plaguing you for weeks unable to touch you while you slept, completely surrounded by your girls' love.
-----
You're confused when you hear the sound of an alarm, and are then shaken awake what feels like only a couple hours later. Grumpily, you crack your eyes open, seeing Mapi's face above you, hidden by darkness.
"Why?" You groan, shutting your eyes again. Mapi laughs quietly.
"You have a concussion, amor. Just needed to check on you."
"Hmph," you grumble. If you were more awake, you'd marvel at the fact that they remembered to wake you, even after the way you'd acted. Even with Mapi's knee messed up, definitely needing rest, her first thought was always you.
"Are you feeling alright? Nauseous? Dizzy?"
"I'm fine. A little dizzy."
"Promise you are okay?" She asks, smoothing your hair back.
"Promise." She nods, satisfied, and you roll into her, keeping a tight grip on Ingrid's shirt on your other side, drifting off again.
-----
They wake you a few more times throughout the night; each time you are annoyed at first, and each time they are so gentle, so kind, you feel like a wave of love is washing over you.
The next morning, when you blink your eyes open, seeing light flooding in around the curtains, you hear them speaking lightly to each other over you. The light is making your head pound, and you let out an involuntary groan of pain, pulling the covers over your head. They're conversation cuts off, and you can picture them exchanging looks.
"Amor?" Mapi asks, concerned.
"Too bright. Hurts." you say, having woken up only seconds ago, unwilling to really form full sentences.
There's some shuffling, and then someone is pulling insistently on the covers. You allow them to be pulled off your head, and frowning up at Ingrid and Mapi through half shut eyes. They're both fighting smiles at your disheveled hair, and the grouchy expression on your face. Mapi slides a pair of sunglasses onto your face, and you thank her quietly. Ingrid moves to slide out of the bed, but your hand pulling on her shirt stops her.
"Stay. I'm comfy."
"You don't want coffee?" she asks, expecting you to relent.
You shake your head though, and she looks at Mapi briefly, before climbing back into the bed, and pulling you into her. You sigh contentedly, burrowing in.
Something has changed, your girlfriends can tell. Your breakdown last night has left you clingy- not that they mind. It's just worrying, as you rarely act that way.
"Princesa," Mapi begins. "Can we talk about last night?"
You stiffen noticeably against Ingrid, rolling away from her chest to stare up at the ceiling.
"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you guys, there's no excuse."
"Thank you for apologizing, elskling, but that isn't really what we're talking about." Ingrid chimes in, her voice quiet and low, as if she's talking to a cornered animal.
"I'm sorry I lost it, I don't know what happened."
Both girls shake their heads. This time it's Mapi that responds.
"Please do not apologize for having emotions, amor. You needed that, and we were happy to be there for you."
Your eyes shift to hers. "What is there to talk about then?"
Ingrid rolls her eyes, as your attention is on Mapi, at how little weight you put on your emotions and wellbeing. If her or Mapi had broken down like you had last night, you'd be worried sick.
"You're taking on too much. You need to let us help you, it's too much for one person, and both of us are completely capable of doing chores."
"You guys have a lot going on, I'm barely doing anything." You argue weakly.
"You know that isn't true. This has to stop, it's not sustainable. You're exhausted, and now you're hurt. We're putting you on bedrest for the next week." Ingrid says. It has an air of finality to it, but you try anyway.
"But-"
"-No arguments." Mapi cuts in.
"You guys need me." You say quietly, trying to get them to understand why you needed to do this stuff for them.
"We do. We need you happy, and healthy. And you need us too, love. It's your turn to let us take care of you."
"I've been in a horrible mood, I wouldn't even want to be around me. And I don't deserve- need to be taken care of. I'm fine." You pause briefly, biting your lip, trying to decide if you should voice the thing thats been bothering you the most. "If anything, I need to work harder, I've been playing so badly."
Your voice breaks on the last word, and you shut your eyes again, reaching under the sunglasses to furiously wipe a tear away. A hand grips your chin, turning your face towards Ingrid. She has a intense blazing expression on her face, one of anger, and you're honestly confused.
"First of all, we always want to be around you. Second, you absolutely have not been playing badly. You've been working so hard, darling, and it's been paying off." You scoff in disbelief. Ingrid's jaw clenches, and she looks at Mapi almost helplessly, as if she isn't sure what to say. The Spaniard is turning your face towards her now. Mapi's warm eyes bore into yours through your sunglasses, begging you to listen.
"You always deserve to be taken care of, princesa." You winced, you'd been hoping they wouldn't catch that slip up. "Even if you had been playing badly, which you absolutely haven't, you still deserve our love, amor. Always."
"Then why don't I feel like I do?" you whisper.
"Oh, love," Ingrid says sadly, leaning in to rest her lips on your forehead, leaving several pecks there. "I don't know why, but I promise that you do."
"We'll just have to remind you more, hmm? That you are our niña bonita, and we always love you. We always want you, and want to give you what you need. Okay?" Mapi finishes.
Hesitantly, you nod. Their anxious faces break into smiles at your agreement, and they both lean in, pressing simultaneous kisses to your cheeks. You laugh, feeling their matching grins against your cheeks, and wonder how you possibly got so lucky.
-----
I tried to end this like 16 paragraphs ago but I was unsuccessful.
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weirdworldofwinnie · 5 months
Text
A Safe Way Out
Jonathan Breech x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only)
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Summary: You're a very shy patient at the psychiatric hospital and the newest inpatient part of the therapy group has to be the cutest man you've ever seen, and he takes an interest in you, but he's not quite as innocent as he looks.
Word Count: ~3,384
Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex), loss of virginity/innocent reader, cum squirting, oral (fem receiving), mental illness, past trauma, talk of depression and suicide, some angst, language
Disclaimer: This just fantasy/fiction, I do not own anything from the 2001 Irish film On the Edge starring Cillian Murphy.
Breech, Jonathan.
He was surely the prettiest person you'd ever witnessed admitted to this institution that he could make both men and even women jealous, even though his pajamas were ill-fittingly too short and he had a cocky attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the staff and other patients, but he wasn't a total asshole... at least you hoped.
At the couple of group therapy sessions he attended he was rebellious, giving the always tired (but very patient) Dr. Figure grief through ample sarcasm that made you stifle smirks, but as usual you never spoke much, being selectively mute unless you were forced to answer a question from Dr. Figure. They didn't give any drugs to dope up; the doctor didn't think you nor the small group you were part of needed them, but sometimes you wished they would so you didn't have to participate in these stupid sessions that went in half-spun circles and could just conk out in your room or outside.
You had been submitted here by your estranged parents after a series of concerning events that you had tried to mentally block out, including attempting to take your own life because of bullying and abuse; you were not able to ever acclimate fully to society because of it, which led you to being stuck in this place, mentally spinning wheels while growing more and more wary of the outside world everyday. Jonathan was the opposite; he had a spark of defiance and a fire you didn't have enough oxygen for to nourish for yourself. He clearly didn't think he really belonged here and in a way, you sort of admired him even if he was a bit strange and potentially dangerous... He was certainly an exciting refresher in such a dull, day-to-day drudgery.
One day after walking out of yet another mildly frustrating therapy session, he stepped in front of you in the hall as you were making your way back to your room alone, a curious light in his stunningly blue excuses for eyeballs.
"Hey, you mind if I join ya in your room?" he asked suddenly and you froze, uncertain of how to react. You only ever minimally interacted one-on-one with people you trusted... Fellow patient Nick kept saying Jonathan wasn't to be trusted, but Nick was also kind of a paranoid weirdo that always was listening to his headphones, so what did he know?
Jonathan seemed to sense your hesitation and he grinned, trying to put you at ease or maybe he was just messing with you. Either way, you had to hide your intrigue in case he was pulling your leg.
"Don't look spooked out, I'm just so fucking bored at this place and you're pretty cute, but you never really talk... I just wanna get to know ya better," he explained sincerely, but you still felt wary.
"Can I see your room at least?" he asked innocently and you finally gave him a shy nod, causing him to smile in broad relief that reminded you of the last rays of sunlight splashing upon the cliffs.
He walked along beside you, swinging his arms back and forth a bit as if he was winding himself up, all the way to your room and past an orderly who gave him a suspicious glance, but you gave the man a thumbs up to let him know it was fine. Security here was surprisingly not as strict as one would imagine for a psychiatric hospital and the younger patients tended to sneak out once a week to the city with minimal repercussions. They always came back anyway.
You reached your designated room and opened the door slowly, and Jonathan strolled in after you, sighing loudly.
"Oh, would'ja look at that - they gave you the fanciest room they've got," he commented sarcastically as you sat down on the small bed, tucking your knees up to your chest and he stood, surveying you and scene for a second and then joining to sit, copying your posture. He fiddled with his slippers for a minute and then turned to you curiously.
"So lemme get this right: You only talk when or if you have ta?"
"Yeah," you mumbled and he nodded sagely.
"That's an interesting way to deal with people. Don't blame ya, lot of wanks out there not worth being spoken to. What's your name - I mean, I know it from the meeting, but can you say it?" he asked, however unlike any doctor, it wasn't clinical or judgmental. He truly seemed interested and so you whispered your first name aloud to the floor.
"It's a nice name. How old are you?" You could hear the smile in his deep voice.
"T-Twenty two," you responded with a slight stutter, too fluttery to be able to meet his gaze.
"Fuck, that's older than me... I'm nineteen, but you know already know that. You ever been anywhere outside of Dublin?"
You looked away, not answering. If you ever had, you'd been too small to remember.
"How long you've been here?" he asked curiously and you splayed your hand, palm up towards him.
"Five weeks or five years?"
"Years," you whispered and he was silent for a few minutes, picking at the hem of his baby blue pajama pants.
"So much for the road to recovery, eh?" he scoffed and you just shrugged.
He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms tight to his chest, wearing that oversized silly orange patterned sweater of his. He sniffed and bit his lip, glancing up at the bare ceiling as if he would find the answers to existence there.
"Something happened to you, I know. Shit, something happened to us all here. It's okay if you don't wanna or can't talk 'bout it. But I can't figure out if you have the same thoughts me and the others have? You know, what the doc locks us up for... suicidal? Like there's no fucking point to this blip of existence? And they think we're nuts, but we just seein' the truth."
You slowly pulled up your sleeve, exposing the faint scars etched into your left wrist, remnants of cutting attempts to escape life before you had been dumped off in this place indefinitely. You had never tried it since and were now an adult and could seek the means to leave if you truly wanted to, but there was nothing out there in the world for you.
"See this pinky finger?" Jonathan asked suddenly, poking up his baby finger and you nodded, interested.
"I was just trying to get rid of what was left of me old Da and the damn car didn't do the job right. Could've broken neck but all I broke was me baby finger. Least you've got the scars there to prove survivin'." He sighed heavily, almost disappointed, and you spoke the first sentence you had in days, your voice hushed from disuse.
"Why do ya wanna die?"
He blinked, giving you a meaningful glance and his full lips stretched into a tight ironic smile.
"I don't want to die; I don't want to be alive. I'm just a fucking living ghost, we all are... Doesn't that realization scare the wits outta ya?"
He looked away at the wall, blinking as the drippy tears escaped and his mouth quivered in quiet anguish, his dewy face scrunching up. You reached over and touched his cheek, catching a tear rolling down his smooth pallid skin and wiping it off tenderly. He sniffled, embarrassed, and gently took your wrist and whispered emphatically.
"I like you, Y/N. You don't freak out or talk down to me or bitch about your own problems. You're unique, but I'm thinking ya too cute to be truly crazy."
"Cute?" you repeated and he grinned at hearing your high breathy voice.
"Don't be so afraid to talk, you got a pretty voice. Bet nobody be calling ya cute in a long time, right?"
You shrugged sheepishly and he tilted your chin up with his fingers, tracing the outline of your face fondly and you blushed, not used to being touched by anyone like that. It was... comforting, a feeling you had been very numb to for some time. His pinkish lips parted and he tilted his head slightly, mouth gaping in anticipation for a kiss but you froze, unsure and not wanting to take the lead.
"I want a kiss," he murmured and the way he said it made you draw closer, trusting the process. He closed his eyes and blindly groped your lips, sucking, and then his tongue dove in with a surprising force, swirling around your mouth and he gripped the sides of your head in a vice, cutting off any resistance... Not that you were repulsed in any way once the initial shock wore off.
He broke away after several seconds, gasping and licking his lips hungrily.
"Mm, didja like that?"
Your cheeks became pink and he glanced over your head at the windowpanes being pattered with a steady rain and it was growing dimmer outside, evening approaching with a cloaking storm, and it reflected in the dull colors of the room that was becoming muted of natural light.
"Can I show you something?" he asked huskily, shifting on the bed restlessly.
You ducked your chin in affirmative, heart fluttering in uncertainty as he reached to yank his sweater and pajama shirt over his head, leaving him with a bare chest. You stared, fascinated in his anatomy; it had been so long since you'd seen anyone without some clothing on. He grinned, pointing awkwardly to your own chest.
"So, uh, now this... this'll be the part where you remove your garment," he instructed and cautiously, you unbuttoned your pj's and you never wore a bra, so soon he was facing your naked breasts with your nipples hardening from the airy exposure.
"Really cute," he breathed, gently putting a finger to your right nipple and pressing lightly, stroking around the center and then drawing a line to the other breast, doing the same to that one and you shivered, feeling a strange pull in your stomach that was borderline butterflies. He leaned back, bouncing up slightly on the bed and kicking his slippers off to the floor.
"But hold on, there's more to see," he said with a verging mischievous excitement. You'd never seen him look so genuinely joyful and as he tugged down his pj bottoms, you blinked, faced with a protruding bugle in his white underwear.
After a beat, he removed his boxers, springing forth a stiff appendage that you'd never in the flesh on a man, well, in its erect state at least.
"Want to touch it? It doesn't bite," Jonathan joked with a lazy grin and you cautiously extended a hand and put your fingers on the glistening tip. It was definitely moist and firmly solid, and he shuddered through a breath of arousal.
"Wet," you observed and he laughed, scooting closer so his penis was resting in your hands.
"I like it when you touch me there, don't stop," he begged and you felt him up, amused at his reaction.
He twitched in your palms as you ran careful fingers up his fleshy length and to his balls, lightly petting the coarse dark hair nesting around them, and he shivered pleasurably, resisting the urge to already ejaculate.
"Feelin' good?" you asked fondly, seeing his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back.
"Too fuckin' good, need to stop before I cum too quick. Wanna enjoy this... Lemme have at that pussy of yours now instead of using me dick, m'kay?"
You could tell it wasn't a question, but you weren't sure what he meant entirely. You eased off his genitalia, cock dripping slightly, and sat back, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Here," Jonathan murmured and his hands went to your waist, teasing down the waistband of your pj's and pushing the pants down your legs, letting you wiggle out and kick them to the floor, along with your slippers. He stared for a full ten seconds at your womanhood, biting his lip and swirling his tongue around his mouth, before he bent down and spread your legs apart. You tried to ask him what was going to happen, but he dove in already, tongue flicking at your delicate folds with attempted precision. You gasped audibly at the new sensation and he clamped hands down on your thighs, clinging on as he maneuvered his thick tongue faster and you grabbed at a fistful of his hair, shaking from the unfamiliarity and equal anticipation as your body seemed to take control of natural instincts and budding arousal grew stronger.
He just wanted to warm you up though, and he withdrew his tongue soon, lips glistening with a tiny smear of discharge. Your bare chest rose and fell in rhythm as he surveyed the fresh terrain, just aching for more. You very well might be a complete virgin and that prospect tantalized him yet also privately frightened him of messing up. Of course he'd been with girls before, but they weren't this sheltered and sweet. He may corrupt you and alter the course of this extremely new friendship, which in his mind was always meant to become more of a relationship; the moment he saw you he knew he needed to get in your pants.
"Eh, give it a go," Jonathan told himself forcibly and his finger jerked onto your entrance, worming in needily and making you squeak in surprise. He shushed you, zipping his lips with his free hand, giving you a clear message that it wasn't wise to make unusual noises. Even though it wasn't like there was cameras in the rooms, one couldn't be too careful. If Dr. Figure found out his newest unstable patient, the same one that pledged not to kill himself before New Year's Eve, was somewhat taking advantage of a virgin he just met in her own room, the doc would be most displeased.
Nevertheless, whimpers escaped from your throat as he pressed further to your clit and moved another finger to join the first, uncomfortably stretching into your walls. Despite the stinging pain, you felt an decent amount of wetness pooling from your vagina, almost like peeing, and clenched reflexively, hitting his knuckles.
"Oh, I'm thinking it's ready," he whispered impatiently, wriggling his digits away with a squelch and wiping your light drizzle of cum on his cock.
Before you could react, he adjusted position and slid on top of you, pressing his body down onto your bare one and rubbing his full cock in-between your thighs.
You gasped when he began to shove in rather roughly, squirming into your tight unbroken hole and you looked up at his face, watching his hair askew slightly and you noticed a scar above his eyebrow you hadn't noticed before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to get pinned underneath him, and tried to buck and roll with the motion, but it was getting painful.
"Hurts," you whimpered into his ear as he thrusted further.
"Not gonna hurt in a minute, baby," he whispered, too in heat to stop and consider much else and he clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle any more alarming noises.
"C-Can't go-go all the way in," he panted, his skin slapping yours and rocking the whole small bed.
Sure enough, the pain became more bearable though the more he worked you and pleasure eventually overturned it altogether, the bursting bloom of an orgasm that was very likely the best feeling that had ever happened to you. You sank your mouth on his shoulder to stifle a cry, careful to not bite too deeply, and then mewled into his neck, panting heavily along with him and digging your fingers into his brown scrubby sideburns and floppy hair.
"Mm, fuc-fucking good, ya likin' it, eh?" Jonathan choked out in a whisper and you couldn't respond, too taken by this incredible euphoria and the way his cock flexed inside close at your cervix. You weren't sure how long he could stay in without it becoming too uncomfortable, but he lifted up slightly, grunting softly at his own arousal and effort.
He pulled out just in time, finishing outside by squirting hot ropes of milky cum all over your vagina, stomach, and legs. The bedsheets took a few splatters as well and he heaved in relief as you laid there, utterly stunned at his sexual performance. You had squirted a little bit too and it had intermixed with his juices that you couldn't tell which was from whom. It was so intimate and gross and a big part of you absolutely loved it, having never been in such a situation before... It was exciting and playful.
He swiped two fingers through the fluids and spread it on your thighs further, encouraging you to feel it as well and you giggled at him taking your own fingers and guiding them up to his face, dotting his chin with cum.
Jonathan then sat back on his haunches and admired you, catching his breath and listening to the steady patter of rain. You rolled over onto your side and your eyes widened at a couple spots of blood on the sheets and he looked down in causal observance.
"Ah, that'd be normal, don't worry," he assured with a chuckle.
"Though, uh, maybe we'd better try to hide it case they come collect the sheets tomorrow," he realized on second thought.
"I say I been bleeding, on my cycle," you offered as an explanation.
"Yeah, that'd be good cover," he agreed and climbed off, picking up his clothing and shimmying back into the pajamas and sweater.
"Look, I'll get us some towels or somethin' from the bathroom," he said, walking quietly to the door and opening it with a peering glance out, but the coast was clear. Most patients should be in their rooms by now anyhow.
You relaxed in a post-orgasmic trance while he was gone, listening to the dripping weather outside and wondering how you'd be able to be normal around him tomorrow.
The door squeaked open softly a couple minutes later and Jonathan came back inside with a bundle of torn sheets of toilet paper clutched in his hand.
"Couldn't get towels, so I took some shit paper that'll have ta do instead," he announced with dry amusement and he used it to wipe you clean of the wet mess and you thanked him quietly, grateful to be dry again for it had become rather cold and tingly on your skin. You automatically flinched a fraction when he wiped at your folds, as you were raw and sore, but he was fairly gentle. When he finished, Jonathan moved in very close as if for a kiss, but only whispered near to your ear, tickling your earlobe with his warm breath.
"Don't tell anyone about what we did... just a little secret, m'kay? Though I guess you wouldn't be blabbin' to anyone else anyway," he chuckled darkly, but it wasn't mean.
"Maybe we can see each other again?" he proposed as he balled up the soiled toilet paper and retreated back towards the door.
"Okay, Jonathan," you whispered in reply and he flushed at the sound of his name on your lips.
"I think you'll be my new therapy, better than anything that wanker of a Freud psychiatrist can offer." He paused, shuffling his feet and then glanced up daringly, determination in his blue orbs.
"We'll find a way out soon, a safe way out, me and you and Rachel and Toby... and I'll show you how to have a good time at the pub, eh? Like the sound of that?"
You only smiled as he turned to exit, but then abruptly paused and bit his lip as he looked back at you with a yearning, like what the two of you had just done still wasn't enough.
"Abair do phaidreacha agus codhladh sámh," he spoke in Gaelic and you translated back softly with a meaningful smile.
"Say your prayers and sleep well."
With a dip of his head and smug, yet almost childlike smile, Jonathan ducked out the door and was gone for the night.
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cutecatlov3r · 6 months
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kinktober: stuck in wall~ bachira meguru
synopsis: your roommate finds you stuck in the washer . how could be not stick his needy cock inside of you ?
warnings/tw: aged up! dubcon, praise, erratic behavior, hard pervert, panty stealing, dryhumping, raw sex, piv, free use(?), orgasm(m), porn with a plot, drunk off sex, cervix fucking, and mental issues (?)
character ai bot that I made in honor of this: didn't make one for this ;(
not proofread . check out my other ones too lolz !
i'm reposting it becuase it got taken down aw ! :(
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"bachi! where are my panties, can't find them in the washer!" you yell from the laundry room. you've been losing panties everyday, you don't even think you've done a load of your panties or bras since about last week.
"eh? why would I know?" he yelled back from the living room. of course he took them, he didn't care, no shame in it either. he takes them when you put your clothes in the laundry basket, taking some time to sniff your cute panties, wanting to smell your cunt. occasionally licking the inside to see if there's a taste. the way he licks your panties gently, his hand stroking his cock... makes him hard just thinking of it.
you just groaned in defeat. you had no idea he did that, you never suspected him as the culprit either.
"try in the way back of the washer! it could be stuck deep inside!" he suggested, sounding innocent. he was scrolling through his phone in the living room, bored.
you shrug to yourself, reaching into the washer.
why the hell was the washer so damn deep? you roll your eyes, making a mental note to buy a new washer. reaching down further, you do see a pair of your panties. one that you haven't seen in awhile. you reach into the wash deeper, having to squeeze in your hips while reaching your arm out. once your hips were in you grabbed the underwear.
you sighed of relief, looking at it, it was one of yours. but they did feel weird, some sort of damp-like crust on it. you shrugged to yourself, not caring because you would wash it either way. there probably isn't a good explanation for it.
little did you know that bachira pumped himself, cumming on your sweet panties earlier. it wasn't his fault, he was just so turned on over the fact you cooked him breakfast when you woke up.
you huffed slightly, ready to get out...
what the...?
your hips were stuck, they weren't squeezing through the small opening at all. you tried your hardest, trying to push out your hips but to no avail. your hips were too big to get out.
"goddamnit..." you mutter to yourself, still trying to force yourself out of the washer.
bachira heard your little huffs and grunts, trying to escape the washer. your hips just weren't budging, you definitely want to buy a new one soon, this one sucked, obviously. you sighed to yourself, heart racing with a small bit of anxiety. how would you get unstuck...?
curiously, bachira walked over to the laundry room, wondering why you'd be making the noises. maybe you were fucking yourself, that's honestly the true reason why he came to check up on you, wanting a glimpse of what you could be doing.
"yo y/n! you ok-?" bachira paused, eyes widening slightly. this was way better than what he expected. "oh! hehe! are you stuck?" he chuckled. the way your ass peeked from your short little shorts made him smirk.
"uh no... of course not..." you mumble.
he giggled. "alright, then i'm gonna head to be-"
"wait!...I actually need help, I'm stuck," you sighed in defeat, shaking your head in the washer.
he hummed slightly, walking over to you, looking at how you couldn't budge your hips. the little voice in his head, what he called his monster, was telling him to fuck the shit out of you. but he took a deep breath, trying not to take advantage of you, his roommate.
"so! what's the problem?" he smiled, bending down face to face with your ass, looking at where you could be stuck.
"my hips won't come loose," you reply, truthfully. you showed him a quick example, trying to wiggle your hips out but once again, failing miserably. "could you uh... help me out?" you ask, swallowing your pride. you hated asking for help, it made you feel bad.
bachira chuckled, nodding. he stood on his knees, hands gripping the skin above your waist. he tried to pull you backwards. it didn't work. he tried again, this time, his clothed cock accidentally rubbing against your shorts. each time he tried to pull you backwards, his pelvis moved forward, cock hitting your ass.
you didn't mind, you just wanted to get out of the stupid washer.
"fuck her..." the voice in his head said. bachira watched as he was slightly thrusting against you when he was trying to pull you out. you didn't even notice that he was slowing down his movements, in thought. "y/n..." he mumbled.
"hm? what? should we call the fire department?" you ask, a bit worried.
without even a warning he pulled down your shorts.
"eh?! bachi! what the-"
"this pussy is so pretty..." he hummed, sitting back down to go face to face with your pussy. you were blushing, not knowing how to feel. you didn't even process what was happening. "aw, these panties are one of my favorites," he brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing it in rough little circles. you whimpered slightly, "i came right there," he smiled, reminiscing on how he stroked his cock to those same panties, cumming on the inside of them.
"bachi..." you let out a breathless moan. "cut it out...! get away from me," you whined. you didn't want this to ruin things as roommates, if he helped you out, you'd just forget about it.
"no, i don't think i want that, pretty girl," his thumb went under those panties, sliding across your slick and wet cunt. "i don't think you do either, look at you... so wet," he chuckled, admiring the way his thumb moved against your folds. "so pretty,"
to be fair, of course you were wet. your roommate is pretty hot. him also admitting that he strokes himself to your panties also turned you on, just slightly.
"bachi... stop," you moan as his thumb went over your sensitive nub in a slightly pattern.
"wanna pump you full of my cum, y/n. you'd look so beautiful having it seep out from your tight little pussy," he said, unashamed, smiling.
you were speechless, breath hitching at that statement. all of a sudden it felt as if it were getting hotter inside of the washer. maybe it was because you were nervous or maybe it was because you've always wondered what it'd be like to be fucked by your crazy energetic roommate.
he was acting real bold for some reason, it was definitely the voice in his head that kept putting this idea of fucking you there while you were stuck. "awww! i'm already so hard too," he whined, taking out his cock. his dick was pulsing, no precum yet but just about ready to get inside of you. "i'm gonna fuck ya! don't worry, i'll make it feel pretty good too!". he grabbed his cock, stroking it slightly before pressing it against your ass.
"wait!- don't-"
he moved your panties to the side, cock pressing against your entrance. he rubbed his cock against your hole, teasing it. he didn't even put the tip in yet, slapping it slightly, earning little whimpers from the jolts of pleasure you were receiving.
"don't? seriously? look at how your needy hole is just begging for me to fuck you," he grinned, taking away his cock from your entrance. without his dick being there... it felt sort of empty, unsatisfied. "but! if you don't wanna I won't force ya," he was trying to sound nice. but he knew damn well if you didn't want to he'd force you and he probably wouldn't care about whether or not you'd swallow your pride and want to fuck him too.
you sigh slightly, missing the feeling of friction already. "wait... um... actually you can. you can..." you gulp a bit, feeling your face flush with embarrassment inside of the washer. "you can fuck me,"
no hesitation needed when you said those words as he shoved himself inside of you, merciless. you almost cried due to how well he was stretching you out. tears brimmed your eyes. he put both hands on the top of the washer, thrusting his hips. he watched as your ass bounced against his cock, your cunt sucking him tightly. your gummy walls squelching and squeezing down on his length.
"feels so good," he moaned, putting his shirt in between his teeth so he can see everything. he even whimpered like a puppy at the sight. he was not afraid to show his feelings, he didn't like when girls had to sit there and wonder whether their partner was feeling good too, so he loved showing.
"b-bachira!" you repeated, your breath fogging up the washer, making it slightly claustrophobic to be in there.
he rutted his hips deep inside of you, not moving fast, instead moving deep and hard. you could feel him so deeply, it almost hurt.
"you're the best... this pussy is the best," he moaned, thrusting himself more. his fat cock was being squeezed, almost feeling as if he was being milked dry. he has never had pussy this good.
"so good!" you slurred. you were being fucked so dumb that you could feel yourself going cross eyed, drool falling from your mouth. though it was early, his cock seriously was fucking you so good that your toes were curling.
bachira furrowed his brows, shutting his eyes as he slowed down even more, instead to pound you deep from the back.
that's when tears were rolling down your face. with each thrust you let out a cry, he was hitting your cervix. and fuck, all he wanted to do was fuck you so deep that he can get his tip past your cervix to fill up your womb with his warm cum. if he kept it up at this rate, he will gladly slam his dick so deep that it goes past your cervix, but for now, he loved the feeling of hitting it. he felt as if he were being blessed by a goddess.
"n-no more!" you cried, panting heavily. it was all too much, it hurt so bad yet felt so amazing. you could get used to this.
he bit on his shirt more, a sweat drop falling down his face. the way you moaned was like music to his ears. he fucked into you more and more, feeling his balls tighten, his cock twitch, his veins pulse...
"c-cumming! f...fah~ fuck! i'm-"
and that's when he shoved himself as far as he could, staying in that position, head being thrown back as he came. moans and high pitched whines escaped his mouth over and over. his cum filling your womb, shooting in ropes as he moaned.
you cried, legs shaking. the feeling of him filling you up felt so good, giving your cervix some comfort after being fucked over and over.
he panted, keeping himself inside of you until he caught his breath.
slowly, he pulled out, watching as his cum drip from your abused pussy. he grinned, enjoying his view as it dripped onto your thighs and floor.
"so hot..." he bit his lip, hand rubbing around the softness of your ass.
you were too fucked out to say anything in response.
"you cum?" he asked, sweetly as if nothing happened.
you made a small noise that told him you didn't to which he giggled, smacking your ass slightly. "don't worry! i can take care of that,"
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peachylipglosss · 8 months
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my guide to wonyoungism, improve your life, glow up, be THAT girl:
🎀 have a routine: this is something I learned from being on therapy for so long. It is really important to have a routine because if not you can have bad sleeping, be tired all day, get bored easier, you won't be able to finish your responsabilities, it can bring you bad self esteem and in general is a complete mess.
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🎀 work out: always do what's best for you and do what you feel comfortable doing but please! work! out! I'm such a lazy person and at some point it was really hard for me to have motivation to do anything, but once I put my mind into it, and force myself a bit and started with 10 mins of pilates everyday (since it was something easy to start with) my life and my self esteem improved a lot. Working out is another way to have schedules and a routine, also improves your self esteem by making you feel capable of doing stuff, and ofc is good for your body.
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🎀 have a good skincare routine: first, do some research about your skin type and see what products can work better for you (you can also go to have a skincare treatment and ask the beautician or search on internet) but always do what's more comfortable and affordable for you, don't use stuff that influencers recommend bc you can alter you skin type based on the products you use too (as a beutician I know) Also don't DON'T do it everyday, some products can be used everyday like the cleanser but others not. As I said just do a good research. Besides skin stuff it's really interesting!!
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🎀 improve your diet: with diet I don't mean to specifically have a diet, actually I'm a bit against them, since being strict about what we eat can cause stress and guiltiness, it's really important to have a balance, eating healthy at the end of the day means nothing if you don't enjoy it. And you can enjoy it by having fun creating new healthy recipes, doing a journal about your fav healthy recipes, buying new cookware (pink plates, pots, pans, etc) or eating a hamburguer, a chocolate cookie sometime
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🎀 journal: this is something I do since 2014 lol it's without doubt one of the best things the human has created. It has helped me to improve my writing skills, to get to know me better, to vent about stuff idk how or whom to talk about, also make it fun! In my journal I vent and write about my feelings,fears, dreams, goals, etc but also write down my travels, concerts or fav kpop artists, decorate with stickers, a piece of confetti, even dried flowers!
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🎀 hobbies: this is something I also learned recently on therapy, I mean we all had hobbies from time to time but do we know about the importance of having them? I spent this whole year doing nothing since I can't work or study, and without hobbies I can tell you life is too boring, and it can lead you to bad self esteem too I mean, I kinda got crazier for spending so much time alone with literally nothing to do. So find new and fun stuff to do just for the pleasure of doing it, you don't have to be the best at it. I bet you can find hobbies ideas on YouTube as well.
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🎀 be more femenine: this is ofc an optional step but I think it can be important, since always either wonyoung or it girls usually look very femenine. Don't forget to make it a fun thing to do! Finding your aesthetic, maybe trying a new one, enjoy going shopping..you can be femenine with your clothing, with your skin care routine, with your jewlery...this is just about feeling beautiful and also powerful.
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🎀 improve your behaviour towards other people: with this I mean basically being more open. To meet new people, to make new plans...also fixing your body gesture (at least mine is shit and It always end up hurting my back and shoulders)
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🎀 affirmations: good affirmations are a thing, this I learned in therapy too. The way you talk to yourself is important and changing the mindset too. If you tell yourself "I won't be able" then for sure you won't. This is not an easy thing tho I know, but is a necessary thing. Forcing yourself to change your mind every time a negative thought pass by is a hardwork but is well payd, cause the price is your happiness. For this is VERY important to have some help and work things up in therapy. But to give you a little tip, surround yourself with good energy, put some pictures of good affirmations in your room, as background of your phone, even on a shirt!
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🎀 enjoy and trust the process: as I kept saying in each step, making it something fun to do it would help you to don't feel it like an obligation cause it's not. It's ofc a responsability to improve your life so you don't fall in depressed behaviours for example, but by making it something fun, then you won't feel guilty if someday you don't feel like functioning and need a lazy day in bed. And by trusting the process, we keep motivated to keep going.
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🌼hope this works for you, please let me know if so, have a great day and a great life! 🌼
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virtualreader · 9 months
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under the stars
rickgrimesxfem!reader
summary: somehow the night watch shifts got jumbled, resulting in a maybe-not-so-forced proximity with the married, appealing leader of the group.
word count: 2,2k.
genre: smut, and a lil' bit of angst.
warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, adultery, etc. (not proofread)
a/n: this was requested by an anon, I really hope it is what you wanted, enjoy!
+18 content below, minors dni, nsfw, please do not read it if you're uncomfortable with this topic!
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The night sky laid before your eyes. It was the only thing that had improved with the outbreak. There were plenty of stars that night; they had always been there, but you just couldn't see them.
Contemplating the bright stars made everything seem right as if you were still enjoying summer nights in your backyard. But you were not. You were on watch.
The silence around you was only broken by the crickets and the occasional distant howling of the wind. The moon above shone brightly, casting eerie shadows around you, and the first dewdrops settled down onto the wisps of grass.
Suddenly, you heard a twig snap, and your heart skipped a beat. You turned around and saw Rick approaching you, his brows drew together as he asked, "Whatcha doing up there, y/n?”
“Watch duty,” you spoke simply.
Rick found it strange; he could have sworn that it was his turn tonight. As a matter of fact, it was. However, Glenn had asked for you to cover his shift, as they would not return until late into the night.
"Wasn't I supposed to be on watch tonight?" he asked, shifting his weight to his right leg.
You observed him from your perch atop Dale's RV. His hands rested on his hips, and a substantial amount of blood stained his clothes. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his torso, highlighting the physical exhaustion he must have been experiencing.
"Were you?" you rubbed your forehead. "Glenn told me you couldn't make it here in time for your shift.”
"Mind if I stay?" Rick asked. "I won't be able to sleep a wink anyway, and I think you could use someone to talk to, don't you?”
After accepting his proposal, Rick climbed up the handrails to sit beside you. With your feet hanging off the vehicle, you felt the cold breeze hit your skin, but it didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Instead, you welcomed the refreshing feeling, which provided a momentary escape from the tension and stress of everyday life in this new world.
You observed Rick as he took in the view, his expression softening as he relaxed, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the world around him.
As Rick sat beside you on top of the RV, you both found yourselves lost in a conversation that went on for hours. It was a rare moment of tranquility in a world filled with chaos, and you were grateful for it.
"You know what I miss the most from the old world?" he asked, breaking the settled silence.
You looked at him, nodding to encourage him to continue.
"Coffee," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "There was something about that bitter taste that just made everything better. It was like a warm hug in a cup, and it's something that you just can't replicate with anything else." He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "I remember how people used to line up for hours just to get their hands on a cup of coffee from their favorite shop. It was a social event, a way to connect with others over a shared love of caffeine. And now, it's just gone.”
You kept on talking for a while, exchanging memories from the time before the apocalypse. Although it felt like only minutes had passed since he arrived, you found yourself opening up to him, telling him about your life before the dead walked the earth.
You reminisced about renting movies every Saturday night, a ritual you followed religiously. You described dancing around the house with a broom in your hands, singing along to your favorite 80s songs. You explained how you would wander the neighborhood streets for hours with your dog, even on rainy days.
Rick's eyes drifted towards the horizon, and you could see the sadness etched onto his face. "I miss it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I miss my family, my friends, my job…everything. I miss everything."
You placed a hand on his shoulder, offering comfort. "We all do, Rick. We all do."
"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it," Rick said, his voice heavy with emotion. "All the fighting, all the pain…for what? Just to survive another day?"
You turned towards him and rested your hand on his arm. "It's worth it, Rick. We have to keep going, for ourselves and for the people we care about.”
"You know," you began, hesitating as you tried to gather your thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about the world we live in, and how chaotic and violent it can be. It's easy to feel lost and alone like we're all just struggling to survive. But then I look at you, and I realize that you make me feel safe, protected, and cared for." you said, voicing the thought that had been brooding in your mind. "And I believe I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate you as our leader.”
Your cheeks blossomed with red as Rick’s enlarged pupils bored into your soul as if he could read through you. His mere presence was enough to put you in a fight-or-flight mode, making you aware of an attraction you had not acknowledged before.
Rick Grimes was not chosen to be the group leader - it was a role that he fell into almost organically. His rise to leadership was not unexpected. He had always been a man of great integrity and his strong moral compass meant that he was a natural choice to lead the group. Rick's unwavering commitment to the group's survival and his ability to remain level-headed in times of crisis meant that he quickly gained the trust of his peers.
The graze of a hand in your tight startled you, averting your eyes from the sky that had you entranced, to Rick's face. He took advantage of the moment and reached out to gently caress your cheek. You felt a rush of emotions as your heart began to race.
You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as Rick leaned in closer, responding to the adulterous desire you had ignited within his heart. His breath felt hot on your skin, and you could hear the beating of your own heart as your lips met in a passionate kiss, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been brewing between you for days. Though the world may have been gone, at that moment, everything felt right.
As you embraced the married man, your heart was racing with excitement. You could feel his lips on yours and his arms tightly wrapped around you. But as you both pulled away, a sudden realization dawned on you. What were you doing? You were kissing a married man, and his wife laid just a few feet away, sound asleep. The guilt and shame crept up inside you, and you couldn't help but feel regretful for your actions. It was clear that this was anything but right.
“I-I’m sorry. I should not-” you breathed, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. You looked down at your feet, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You had always been good at thinking on your feet, but at this moment, your thoughts were scattered and disjointed.
"Don't do that," he said, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. You tried to look away as if avoiding his gaze would excuse your immoral actions. But the hand he had on the side of your face prevented you from doing so, gently forcing you to look at him as he confessed, "Don’t apologize for something we've both obviusly wanted for a while now.”
And as if he knew what was going through your mind, he added, "Please don't worry about Lori," his voice soft and comforting. "Our relationship had decayed well before you and I met, so don't beat yourself up. If anything, that responsibility rests on me." His words were like a balm to your soul, a soothing reassurance to your worries, easing the fears that had been gnawing at you.
As the night wore on, you found yourself ogling at Rick's physical appearance. You couldn't help but notice the veins on his arms or the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the feeling of desire for him was overwhelming. You knew that your actions were wrong, but in this world, who was there to judge? You leaned in to kiss him again, but this time, something was different. This time, you knew that there was no going back.
When he turned you over onto your back, your heart raced with anticipation. You felt his hands slide down to your hips, gently but firmly holding you in place. As your lips remained locked in a passionate embrace, you couldn't help but shiver from the cool metal of the RV's roof against your skin. You felt a deep connection as he looked into your eyes, his gaze burning with desire and affection. In that moment, you knew that this was more than just physical attraction, but a true emotional bond between two people.
"Don’t make a sound," he muttered pulling away as he placed a finger over your mouth, hurriedly getting free from his dirty shirt. You had to be indeed quiet as to not be heard by the rest of the group, especially his wife.
After struggling with the zipper, you finally freed yourself from your tight-fitting pants. As you did, Rick's mischievous grin grew wider, his eyes lingering on the laced panties that you were wearing underneath. The silky fabric felt smooth against your skin, and you couldn't help but blush as Rick's gaze lingered on you. The enflaming feeling of a light gust of wind grazing your cunt sending a shiver down your spine.
"God damn it," Rick whispered. "You look so good beneath me.”
Rick began exploring your body with his hands, savoring every inch of your skin. He slowly lifted your shirt above your braless chest. You let out a soft moan as he ran his tongue over your nipple, causing your back to arch lightly at the sensation. His touch was electric and you couldn't resist the urge to pull him closer, wanting to feel more of him against your body.
Your hands whirled in the back of his head, feeling the texture of his coiled hair in your fingers as they intertwined with it. You felt a rush of passion as your lips connected once again, savoring the taste of his. Your fingers fumbled with his zipper, your eagerness growing with each passing second. His tongue met yours in a frenzied dance, both of you desperate for more.
Once you’d made your way to his hard cock you caressed his bulge, feeling it grow with each passing moment, and you looked up at his face, anticipating his reaction. A muted growl escaped his mouth as he quivered under your touch. You continued to stroke him, your movements becoming more and more deliberate as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.
“Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught.” you ordered him after he moaned loudly , smugness emanating from you.
“That’s gonna be hard if your hand stays there any longer, pretty girl.”
His hands slipped under your panties, the circling movements of his fingers over your clit delivering shockwaves through your entire body. You couldn't help but gasp as you felt your walls tighten around his fingers, and the pleasure continued to build with each passing moment.
Rick's voice was hoarse as he leaned over you, his eyes dark with desire. "You are so ready for me," he whispered, his fingertips tracing a path down your body until they reached your entrance. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he teased you, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but feel like a dirty girl as he continued his ministrations, but you didn't want it to stop.
He entered you slowly, his fingers teasing your entrance until you were begging for more. When he finally filled you completely, you gasped from the intense pleasure that coursed through your body. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in that moment that you were completely his.
The way he moved inside you was a dance of passion, each thrust taking you higher and higher until you were flying. You clung to him, your hands running over his back as you surrendered to the rapture that he was giving you.
As you both reached the peak of ecstasy, he crushed beside you, his body slick with sweat and his chest heaving. The warmth of his skin against yours was both comforting and exhilarating, and you couldn't help but snuggle closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.
As the night turned into dawn, the two of you lay entwined on the roof of the RV, the cool breeze of the night forgotten. The guilt that had been plaguing you had subsided, replaced only by a feeling of contentment and euphoria. It was a moment that you knew you would never forget, a moment that would forever be etched in your memory as a reminder of the beauty that could still be found in a world filled with chaos.
Perhaps the scintillating night sky was not the only great thing the outbreak bought into your life.
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austinsastrology8991 · 10 months
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JUPITER and where do you the MOST but its never EnuF > Jupiter ASpects < and the Taste of ABUNDANCE that Blinds everyone in awe
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Jupiter aspecting Sun - Bombastic ass people, they are the epitome of doing the most. Always thriving, always smiling, always giving and receiving, they just love themselves so much and they want to share this sense of joy that they have found and give it to anyone who had the pleasure of meeting them
Jupiter aspecting Moon - They are so emotional but so tender. everyone wants to hug them and get a hug from them. supreme motherly energy and everyone feels if they spill their feelings to them they will really listen, they'll probably start crying from the joy of you sharing their feelings to them Jupiter aspecting Mercury - too smart for their own good or anyone elses. Its hard to really tell what they mean because they have a hard time telling you everything going on in their head, so they practice the art of simplyifying whilst in their heads they are thinking of the most complex rubix cube with triangles, and their simultaneously talking to you. just go do brain surgery already (on yourself) Jupiter aspecting Venus - Luck is always on their side, they just attract abundance, and its hard for them to admit they are so lucky because to them this is just a everyday occurence. but when you talk to them, you cant even be mad at their stupid luck because they clearly are very beautiful people inside and out, but still everyone stays mad cause they way too lucky it ain't even fair Jupiter aspecting Mars - Drive is so strong they drove off the cliff and didn't take their foot off the pedal. But seriously they never quit; they love the thrill of pursuit, and the desire to win is so strong they feel nothing can stop them, even when something does stop them (and its gonna have to be a lot) they'll just use this time to recover then go go go again. Jupiter aspecting Saturn - the self control and self mastery is so admirable they never run out of applause for their hard work. which only inspires them to work harder, and its not for you, its because they get off on the feeling of completion, so when they can complete something to satisfaction, they are better than good. Self mastery is their bitch Jupiter aspecting Uranus - Crazy motherfuckers who do something no one ever done before, but everyone cant get enough. Truly fearless in going after their desires no matter how twisted or frownd upon they may be, they gonna do it because thats what makes them feel special. And it truly is special when they show off what ever the hell it is they got going on Jupiter aspecting Neptune - Angels on earth who are protected by their stupid amount of empathy. They have so much empathy and imagination at their disposal they can forgive anyone, and they are always stressing about doing the right thing. They are not easily persuaded to do the wrong thing, they've seen how destructive it has made everyone else and they strive to set an example, and this gives them an abundance of protection from negative forces. too creative too Jupiter aspecing Pluto - the darkest dungeon is where they learn to crawl and thrive. they have discovered secrets from the dark and it wasnt easy, but now they know how to use it to their advantage. Anything but naive, these natives are so deep and mesmerizing everyone cant believe what they went through and who they became. oh and they get stuck in your head like a parasite
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