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meazalykov · 8 months ago

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welcome home

barcelona femeni x alexia putellas x youngadult!reader

summary: you find healing after switching clubs

warnings: swearing, bodyshaming, one mention of bodily fluids, I made up names of imaginary players who don't play for the nwsl club mentioned in this fic!!!, bullying, angst, yes there is a happy ending.

you grew up with your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ball.

at 15, you felt like the world belonged to you—a place where dreams became your reality. you’d trained hard your whole life to make it to the world stage, and by 16, you were living your dream as one of the youngest members of the 2019 world cup roster for the united states.

the national anthem playing, crowds screaming your name as you made the assist to rose lavelle’s goal—it was everything you’d ever wanted.

all of the happiness and thrill faded away when you joined the kansas city current. when you first stepped into the locker room, you were excited. new teammates, new opportunities—it was everything you’d hoped for.

you wanted to make friends, to be part of a family when it came to being with your first professional club outside of your childhood one.

the moment you walked through those doors, you could feel something off. the eyes on you were sharp, intense, cold.

“what’s up, big foot?” macy had said, the team captain, with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"don't trip over those feet, yeah?" she had laughed, and a few others joined in, but the laughter felt harsh, mocking.

“yeah, we don’t need a kid coming in thinking she’s hot shit,” added jessica, one of the veteran players, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“try not to embarrass us out there.”

you laughed nervously, trying to brush it off as rookie hazing, but the tone was sharper than you expected. you told yourself that it was normal, that it was just their way of breaking the ice.

you couldn't have been more wrong.

practices started to become a war zone. it wasn’t just intense training; it was like they were out to get you. elbows to your back when the coach wasn’t looking, hair pulling, shoes clipped behind your heels to send you stumbling.

once, in a scrimmage, you remember trying to dribble past jessica. the curly-red headed girl came in late with a slide tackle, her studs connecting straight with your shin. you hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, and she stood over you, smirking.

“whoops,” she said, her voice flat and unapologetic. “you should be quicker, portland has fast forwards and you can’t defend them with those legs.”

the coaches didn’t do anything. you’d get up, limp back into position, and hear them say, “come on y/n, toughen up. you’ve got to be ready for contact against portland on thursday.”

they acted like it was all normal, like you were the problem.

in the locker room, it wasn’t any better. they whispered behind your back, cruel comments about your skills, your looks, even your voice.

once, after a tough practice where arianna had practically shoved you into the goalpost, you were struggling to keep your emotions in check as you unlaced your cleats. you heard them in the back of the room, their voices loud and taunting.

“seriously, what does the national team see in her? she’s not even that great,” jessica said, snickering.

“guess they needed a token teenager to fill the roster,” another voice added, followed by laughter.

“she needs to go back to playing with the u18s, kylie you’d do much better than her in the left-back position!”

you bit your lip so hard it bled, staring down at the floor, pretending you didn’t hear them. you never knew what to say. it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

everything you did felt wrong, like you were walking on eggshells every day.

and then came the night that broke you.

it was after that world cup loss to sweden, a moment that already weighed on you like a thousand bricks.

you returned to kansas hoping to throw yourself into training, to prove you could bounce back. but when you entered the locker room, your world came crashing down. your locker was trashed—like a hurricane had blown through.

your training kit was shredded, your cleats filled with some kind of foul-smelling gunk– obviously period blood due to a used tampon found inside of the locker. and scrawled in black marker across the inside door of your locker were the words,

spoiled, selfish, fat bitch!

you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking so violently you couldn’t steady them.

“what... what the fuck is this?” your voice came out a choked whisper.

kamryn, another girl on the team, walked by, a smug grin on her face.

“looks like someone had a bad month,” she said, fake sympathy dripping from her words.

“i hope you can still play tomorrow, stargirl.”

the nickname fans around the world called you, now being used to belittle you.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you yelled at them, your voice cracking with rage and desperation, “the fuck? what did i do to any of you? this is fucking insane and you think i am the problem?”

“you walked in here thinking you were better than us. you got handed everything, y/n. you don’t deserve to be here. you’re a little girl playing a big girl’s game.” jessica walked in, scoffing while smirking at the sight of your locker in the dressing room.

you left that night and didn’t stop crying until your eyes were red and swollen. but even then, the coaches did nothing.

they told you to toughen up, to show “mental strength,” as if their approval could patch over what you were going through. and that’s when you realized you had to get out—before this place destroyed you and any love you had for football.

barcelona was the escape you desperately needed. a chance to rebuild, to breathe.

when you landed in spain, everything felt fragile. it didn’t matter that you were now with one of the best clubs in the world.

the trauma from kansas stuck to you like a shadow. you walked into your new locker room, keeping your head down, afraid to say the wrong thing, terrified of the laughter you thought you’d hear.

but it never came.

instead, alexia, the captain, was the first to welcome you. “y/n! niña!!! so nice to finally meet you,” she beamed, pulling you into a hug that felt warm and real.

“i can’t wait to see you play. you’re from the states? we need to introduce you to keira and lucy– they’ve been wanting to meet you but don’t take their banter seriously.”

every day, they chipped away at your fear. little by little.

when you struggled on penalty kicks one time during training, patri stayed back with you after practice.

“okay you got this!!! by the end of this evening, you will never miss a penalty kick again. trust me! yeah? it’ll be fun.” she speaks with a thick catalan accent.

you were hesitant, scared to mess up, but patri never pushed. she was patient, kind. she’d pass the ball back to you and made you do penalty kicks over and over again until you felt comfortable, until your footwork was smooth, and every small achievement she celebrated like it was a goal in the final.

“see? you’ve got this,” she’d say, and you’d feel the corners of your mouth tug into a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.

it was a few weeks into your time with barcelona, but you still felt like an outsider.

even with the kind gestures, the smiles, the support from the team, you were carrying the weight of kansas like a ghost.

you stayed quiet during team meetings, laughed politely but never loudly, and when the others shared jokes or talked about life outside of soccer, you sat on the edges, half-invisible.

alexia had been watching you. she noticed how you shrunk into yourself, how you seemed to fade into the background during conversations.

during drills, your focus was laser-sharp—too sharp, like you were overthinking every touch, every pass. when you were off the ball, your eyes darted around, like you were searching for threats.

you reminded alexia of esmee when she first arrived last season—new, uncertain. but this was different.

there was fear and sadness in your eyes.

one afternoon after training, alexia pulled you aside. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pitch, and most of the team had already started heading back to the locker room.

you felt her hand on your shoulder, and you turned, trying to hide the nervousness in your eyes.

“niña,” she said gently, a small smile on her lips. “can we talk?”

you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “sure, alexia. what’s up?”

“it’s about you,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “you’ve been… quiet. more quiet than normal. and i get it, you know, being the new girl and all. esmee and kika were shy when they first came, but…” alexia paused, searching your face.

“this feels different. it feels like you’re afraid of us.”

you could feel your chest tighten, the words getting stuck in your throat. you didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to burden anyone.

“i’m not... i mean, it’s just—" you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right thing to say, something that wouldn’t make you sound like a mess. “it’s nothing. really.”

alexia didn’t buy it. she shook her head slightly, taking a step closer to you. “i don’t think it’s nothing, y/n. you barely look anyone in the eye, and when someone even brushes by you during training, you flinch like you’re waiting to get hurt. it’s not normal.”

she kept her voice calm, steady, like she was trying to reassure a frightened animal. “listen... if something happened before you got here, you can talk to me. it’s just me right now. no one else.”

you wanted to brush it off, to laugh and say she was overthinking, but the truth clawed its way up, burning your throat. you clenched your fists, staring down at your cleats, trying to focus on anything but alexia's eyes, which felt like they could see right through you.

“it’s… it’s hard to talk about,” you finally admitted, voice cracking on the last word.

“back in kansas, things were... bad. really bad.”

“what do you mean?” alexia’s voice was a whisper, gentle but urging you to continue. she stepped closer, her hand on your shoulder now, warm and steady.

you bit your lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill.

“my teammates—they hated me. from the minute i got there, they acted like i was the opponent that happened to sneak into their dressing room. i thought maybe it was just... i don't know, maybe i did something wrong. but no matter what i did, they just got worse. they... they bullied me. on the field, off the field... they’d make comments, call me fat, trash my stuff, physically go after me during practice.” you took a shaky breath, your shoulders trembling.

“they hated me for being good– for being called up to the world cup before some of their veterans did. they said i didn’t deserve the call ups at all, that i was useless. every single day felt like... like a war that i was going to lose.”

alexia’s face hardened, and for a second, you thought you saw anger glistening in her eyes.

“and your coaches?” she asked, voice tight with anger. “they did nothing?”

“they... didn’t care,” you said, shaking your head.

“if anything, they made it worse. told me to toughen up, to get used to it, that it was part of being a pro. so i did. i tried to act like it didn’t bother me. but it did. every day, it did.”

there was a heavy silence. alexia didn’t speak for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. and then, she pulled you into a hug—tight, secure, like she was trying to shield you from all the pain you had gone through.

you stiffened for a second, unaccustomed to the softness, the genuine care, but then melted into it, burying your face in her shoulder.

“you don’t have to go through that alone anymore,” she whispered.

“this is your home now, y/n. we’re your family. i promise you—no one will ever treat you like that again. not while i’m here, and i am going to be here for a very long time.”

you felt the tears slide down your face, but they weren’t tears of pain anymore.

they were relief, a feeling you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. when she finally let go, alexia cupped your face, making sure you were looking right into her eyes.

“you are so much more than what they made you feel,” she said firmly, her voice laced with emotion. “and if anyone even tries to make you feel like that again, they’ll have to go through me. through all of us. okay?”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile breaking through. “okay.”

“did you go to anyone on your national team about this?” alexia asked, hoping you did.

“i did. alex was the one who encourage me to move clubs. trinity even promised to smash kansas when they go to washington dc to play against spirit.” you laughed, wiping a stray tear from your face.

she laughed back, squeezing your hands. “we’ve got your back, y/n. always.”

and she meant it. over the coming weeks, you felt the shift.

after that talk, alexia made it a point to check in on you.

the small gestures from the team slowly healed the wounds you didn't think would ever close.

when ingrid left you notes in your locker before every match with scribbled encouragements, kika making it a routine to kiss you on the head when you scored a goal past aitana in training, or when mapi pulled you into a bear hug after a tough game reminding you that she is proud of you– you felt at home.

masterlist

#barcelona femeni #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #fc barcelona #alexia putellas #mapi leon #ingrid engen #kika nazareth #trinity rodman

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kingkat12 · 1 month ago

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the secretary (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: dry-humping, inappropriate usage of shoes, humiliation, degradation, masturbation, email-banter (tihi), mentions of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics

summary: Mr. Godfrey isn't done with you-- definitely not after he watched you cum yesterday. but are you sure you want to let him continue running over you like this? you're intrigued, that's for sure; obsessed.

word count: 7,815

← previous chapter | next chapter →

a/n: the way I have literally written all of this in the span of 24 hours because I CANNOT let go of this plot and the things I'm uncovering about myself this way????? I'm ashamed. you are ashamed. we are all ashamed. welcome to the club of shame, and enjoy;)

Anyone could be an assistant.

Anyone could write emails, organise meetings, take phone calls, and I knew this very well. My job didn't need me to have a big brain, didn't need me to be a PhD candidate, and didn't need me to be any kinds of sharp to handle my position.

But the more I worked for Mr. Godfrey, the more I realized that not anyone could be a secretary.

Not the normal kind of secretary, fuck no-- not the kind that arranged appointments and answered messages, but Mr. Godfrey's secretary.

That was why he hired me, wasn't it? Because he saw that I could handle it. He recognized, in my job interview, that I was capable of handling the requirements of working for him, to take whatever he would throw at me. I had no idea how, or what the indicators were, but right now? Right now, I felt perfect for the job, and it was partially because he made me feel perfect.

Lilac. French tips. Hair down. Mr. Godfrey's instructions had left me feeling like a doll, and in the best way possible. Even as he was out of office, and would be for the next two hours, I sat by my desk, ready for him to pass me by and hopefully give me a nod of approval; anything would do, after what he had pulled on me yesterday.

Why had he asked me to make myself cum in front of him? Actually, a better question was, how the hell had I allowed myself to comply? There was something about the way he was talking down to me, the way he didn't look at me while I crossed my legs and complied with his every word, and it had thrown my mind for a loop. Why had I enjoyed it to that extent, the humiliation of it all?

I had stayed up all night, wondering what the fuck had happened. The more I googled it, the more I scoured the internet, the more confused I got-- because what came up, were BDSM relationship dynamics. Terms I had never heard before, terms I had never even considered, and they were suddenly floating around in my brain as though they were trying to find their assigned seats.

I was ashamed to admit that I had watched some... odd videos. And by calling them odd, I was being gentle about my wording. They started out rather weird, with people tied up and stuff-- that wasn't my thing, that was for sure. But then, I stumbled upon some subcategory of suit-clad men, and... that was certainly up my alley.

It was easy to imagine them being Mr. Godfrey, especially when the suits were a specific shade of greyish black and the shoes had a certain kind of shine. I felt bad, dirty, disgusting even, the more I went on, the more I let my imagination float around freely, because I was sure I shouldn't be having those thoughts about my boss. I was certain it was wrong on all counts of wrong. You-should-be-ashamed wrong. You-should-be-locked-up-you-disgusting-pervert wrong.

I felt like a pervert. Imagining myself as those girls in the videos, those girls who were getting off on the suit-man's thigh, the ones getting bent over the suit-man's lap and spanked until their behinds were a rather pretty pinkish-colour-- I wondered whether that colour would suit me, and how gorgeous I'd feel with Mr. Godfrey's handprint on my ass. I'd feel like a goddess, I was sure of that.

Then, I found one specific video.

The one video that I ultimately ended up saving on my hard drive.

Because in that video, the woman was getting off the same way I got off beneath my desk, and the suit-man was filling out some sort of paperwork, not giving her an ounce of his attention. Was my life... a porn movie? That was a twist from what I thought it was, that was for sure, yet that wasn't important-- what was important, was what it made me feel, and what the video was categorized as.

The video title read as following (nasty as always); dom puts needy sub in place.

Was Mr. Godfrey a dom?

And yesterday, had I agreed for him to be... my dom? Was that what all of that was?

If so, then I was the luckiest girl in the world-- truly. The thought of all these new revelations left me sitting behind my desk with a bright, beaming smile as I watched his new email tick in with heart-eyes. I revelled in the feeling of being chosen-- chosen to do this, chosen to be his sub(?), being chosen to be his secretary.

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Questions And Concern

Dear secretary,

I will be back in my office around 14:40. If Mr. Avery stops by before that, tell him I can meet him around 15:00 sharp. If he insists to meet me any earlier regarding whatever, tell him to shove his cock up his ass. Quite frankly, I couldn't care any less about the colour he wants to paint the lobby, and I have much more important things to care about.

However, I find myself concerned regarding my absence this morning. I trust you have not allowed the lack of direct orders to loosen your discipline? I expect your behaviour to extend beyond my line of sight.

Can I trust that you are focused?

With regards,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

If I were focused? Fuck no. How could I be? How was I supposed to focus when Roman fucking Godfrey was sending me mails about my discipline? If he was so damn worried about my discipline, he should come and discipline me himself, honest to God. The more I thought about that word, the more I thought about the good-looking men in suits who were disciplining those women in the videos from last night--

I was about to become a porn addict, wasn't I?

From: You

Subject: Holding The Fort

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

You will be pleased to know that Mr. Avery has not stopped by. Hopefully he will not, so that I may avoid having to tell him to shove his cock up his ass. How would that even work, sir? I have never had these thoughts before, and I must say I am a bit stumped. Male anatomy is not my strong suit.

Regarding your concern, I must assure you that I am capable of performing my duties without your presence in the office. You have hired me for a reason, sir, and everything is running smoothly as of now.

Focused as ever, Mr. Godfrey.

Kind regards,

Your Secretary.

Was that too much? It couldn't be. He wouldn't have used the word cock in an email had he not warranted this sort of interaction. Or? Holding my breath at the suspense, I decided to try to calm myself down by opening my private folder--

No, I wasn't about to watch porn at work, you pervert. I was just finding snake, the best game to play in the office.

Time passed quicker this way, when I could turn my brain off and click on the cute snake to chase a bright red apple. It wasn't as though I had any pressing matters to tend to, now that Mr. Godfrey was out of office, and I allowed myself the liberty of slacking off, sure. Who wouldn't? It wasn't like he'd ever know. Now that he wasn't here, I wasn't stressing my ass off either, and I didn't feel the need to relieve myself like I had been caught doing-- I wasn't planning on doing that ever again in this damned office. At home, maybe. While waiting for the bus at the bus stop, fine. But while eating dinner? While filling out tax forms and paying my rent? No, that had to stop. I was doing this way too often, way too freely, way too casually. How many people had actually noticed throughout the years, just like Mr. Godfrey? How many times had I thought I had been slick when I had been blatantly obvious...?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to throw myself off the top of the Godfrey Tower. But just as I was about to beat my high score on snake, having let my mind wander, a new email ticked in.

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: A Teaching Moment

Dear secretary,

You have managed to momentarily short-circuit my brain. Congratulations.

However, since you are so stumped, here is your answer: one could probably do that with significant flexibility, a concerning amount of dedication, and—presumably—a severe lack of dignity. I would not recommend looking it up. Knowing you, you already have.

Now, about your claim of being focused as ever. You do realize I can see your internet usage? You have been playing 'Snake' for the past seven minutes. That culminates to seven minutes of wasted company time. Seven minutes of me rethinking your job security.

I do not care if you are bored. Return to your work, and do not lie to me again.

With reluctant indulgence,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

What?! I immediately clicked out of snake, and pressed my palm against the camera of my computer. Could he see me, or was he only getting some sort of report when he clicked on my device? That would mean that I was connected to his phone, somehow. That was both horrifying and endearing; was that company policy, or was that just Mr. Godfrey not being able to get enough of me?

... Probably the first thing. Something told me I lightly annoyed him, despite his indulgence with me.

After ripping a Post-it and putting it over the computer camera, I straightened up in my seat, crossing my legs at my ankles as I typed up a response.

From: You

Subject: Consider Me Taught

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

For your information, I do not wish to see that sort of thing, and neither have I ever seen it. I find your assumption offensive. I am not some pervert; I am your secretary.

Regarding you seeing my internet usage, I consider my privacy violated. How is that allowed? I do not feel comfortable with that. Yes, I have been playing 'Snake', but that is because I have nothing else to do at the moment and I am taking a short break. Had I had any pressing matters, I would have been busy. I am perfectly capable of doing my job, and you threatening to fire me over something so insignificant and inconsequential does not help the matter.

I apologize. However, I did not lie to you. I do not appreciate being called a liar.

Focused regards,

Your Very-Focused Secretary.

That was too snarky, wasn't it? I couldn't help it-- I stared at the Post-it note in front of my camera and felt my brows draw together with dismay. But here I was, slaving away all day, answering all of Mr. Godfrey's emails, dealing with annoying people who wanted to schedule meetings with him, taking all his calls, and he was monitoring me like I was some lousy secretary?

Was I not special? Was I not?--

Wait.

Mr. Godfrey had answered. Exactly two minutes and thirty-one seconds after I had sent my email. That must be a record of some sort.

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Alright

Dear secretary,

You humour me.

I apologize that my access makes you uncomfortable. Is it maybe time for us to discuss some boundaries?

PS: You are a pervert.

With restrained regards,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

I had to do everything in my power to not jolt in my seat and gasp. Instead, I opted to press my forehead against my desk, holding back a string of screams. Was this seriously happening? It couldn't be. Did he seriously just call me a pervert in an email? I could send this to HR and get him in enormous trouble, yet... I gathered the strength to straighten up and drag myself out of the mud; fuck it. If he was calling me a pervert, I'd call him three.

From: You

Subject: Disagreements

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

I am glad I humour you, sir.

And if I am to be honest, I am afraid to say yes to anything related to the word 'boundaries'. It sounds a lot like something I associate with pijvodbuhvdobAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

... I didn't end up sending this, obviously. But was I about to type out the word? I couldn't. Would that scare him off? Would the direct call-out make him back off? Mr. Godfrey seemed like a typical avoidant. I didn't want to fuck this up, yet I felt like we couldn't progress without the necessary wordings, sadly. My comfort was necessary too, right?

I tried again.

From: You

Subject: Disagreements

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

I am glad I humour you, sir.

But, if I am to be honest, I am afraid to say yes to anything related to the word 'boundaries' after what happened in your office yesterday. It sounds a lot like something I associate with BDSM. I am fairly new to both the world and that sort of thing, but I did watch Fifty Shades of Grey illegally on some pirated website back when I was 15, so I would appreciate it if we could get it cleared up. Is that what is happening here?

PSPS: You are a pervert, too.

Respectfully confused,

Your Secretary.

This could cost me my job. This could cost me everything. I regretted that email the second I sent it, and I squirmed in my chair and pushed away from the desk the second I hit send. What the fuck had I done? Why had I said that? Why on earth had I typed that?!

My body turned into jelly as I gave up on the intense anxiety coursing through my veins, and I allowed myself to slide to the floor. No one saw me, anyway, with how my desk was positioned in the office-- I wormed my way along the floor as I felt my breath constrict in my chest, and now that I wasn't allowed to get off to relieve my anxiety, I was left hyperventilating with no way to calm down.

Was this a panic attack? Had my clumsy email pushed me to that state? I wanted to cry and scream and orgasm from the adrenaline pumping through my veins-- this was confusing. And now, of course, Mr. Godfrey wasn't answering quickly anymore, so I was left to boil in my cauldron of torture.

But just as I started creeping under my desk, hoping to hide, I realized someone was watching me. It wasn't my boss through my post-it covered camera, it wasn't God (I hoped), but as I slowly dared to look up, I saw a very concerned Peter leaning over the desk with a cocked brow. This could've been taken straight out of some coming-of-age romance movie, yet I couldn't feel any of the humour; now, I was only horrified to be found in this state.

My eyes widened, caught red-handed with my back to the floor-- "Peter," I breathed.

He broke out into a soft smile, followed by a gentle laugh; "Hey,"

"Hey," I mumbled, not even trying to get up. With a sigh, I submitted to my role as the girl on the floor, and shrugged. "This is not what it looks like."

"And what do you think this looks like, kid?"

"Like I'm having a stroke?"

"Meh," Peter walked around my desk, no longer suppressing his warm chuckle. He crouched down next to me, tilting his head as he scanned me on the floor. "It looks like you might be in need of a lunch break."

"I already had a break," I breathed, letting my body go limp. "I played snake."

"Snake?"

"The game where you have to make the snake hit the apple? The tail grows with every apple you bite, and then the screen gets crowded, so--"

"Kid, I've played it before,"

"Oh,"

Peter extended his hand for me, visibly amused by my antics. "Need a hand?"

"No," I said, accepting my position. "I'm waiting for the floor to swallow me."

"... Why?"

Because I was an idiot? Because I screwed up between me and Mr. Godfrey before anything had time to actually happen? "Because," I breathed, closing my eyes. "I'm just overwhelmed. I don't think I'm doing my job very well."

Peter sighed, the sound of it mixing with a brewing laugh of his. "If you're playing snake all the time, then I gotta agree,"

His teasing landed softly, and despite myself, a small, pitiful smile flickered across my lips. "I don't play it all the time," I muttered, voice muffled as I pressed my cheek to the floor-- I prayed that my skin wouldn't break out because of it. "I only play it when... when I've sent an email to my boss that may or may not have ended my entire career before it even started."

Peter shifted to sit cross-legged beside me, elbows on his knees. "What kind of email are we talking about here?"

I definitely couldn't tell him that. I opted for something vague; "The kind you don't survive,"

Peter raised an eyebrow, curious now. It took him a few seconds to scour his brain for all the stupid possibilities I could've gotten myself into. Then; "Don't tell me you sent Roman nudes?"

"What?! No!" I sat up so fast I nearly headbutted him. "It wasn't nudes, I'm not-- I'm not that kind of girl!"

"Okay, okay!" Peter put a hand on my shoulder, hoping to calm me down. "Whatever it is, I bet Roman won't care too much. He generally doesn't care, if you haven't noticed."

He was right-- Mr. Godfrey wasn't a man to take much offence, yet... something told me it was a front. He almost cared too much. Why else would he have made me get off in front of him? It was obviously some sort of power play. It was a way for him to feel in control again, right? A man who didn't care wouldn't go to such lengths, and all of this quickly deflected Peter's argument. "I hate it here," I groaned, glancing down at my lilac nails. French tips. French tips. Forbes nose. Oh, the Forbes nose...

Peter laughed properly this time, low and warm as he watched me fall apart, before he stood and offered me a hand again. "C'mon, kid. The floor's not gonna help. Come take a walk, get some water, anything. You're spiralling, but you're not getting fired," he added, gentle. "Even if you're a little weird."

Ugh.

"... Thanks," I mumbled, begrudgingly taking his hand. Peter helped me up with surprising ease, and I did my best not to think about the way his bicep bulged through his shirt when he pulled me up.

Why couldn't my mind function properly? Why was I thinking about all these men this way? However, as I dusted myself off and tried to regain my composure, my computer pinged again.

My blood ran cold. That better not be Mr. Avery.

Peter glanced at the screen. "That him?"

I shrugged-- some part of me didn't want to know, yet the other was screaming at me to lunge at my desk.

"Well, don't just stand there," Peter said, nudging me. "Go read it. Life could be worse... He could humiliate you in front of Middle Eastern royalty, or something."

I shot him a look. The mention of that incident gave me a major case of PTSD. "Ha-ha. You're very funny,"

"Just don't let him fire you," he teased, stepping backwards. "Who else would I find lying on the floor at this place? I need my court jester."

"Hilarious, Peter! I'm dying of laughter, here!"

With a snarky grunt, I refused to watch him walk away when he did. I didn't need to see him to know he was smirking. I stepped back behind my desk with unmatched speed the second Peter was out of sight, adjusted my blouse like it would fix the past ten minutes, and opened Mr. Godfrey's email with my body trembling from the adrenaline.

My eyes skimmed the email--

Oh fuck.

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Clearing Things Up

Dear secretary,

You are not in a position to send me emails like your previous one. You are overstepping, and you are being inappropriate. I suggest you get back to work and no longer mention explicit movies and terms. This exchange was beneath both of us. Do not repeat it.

However, if you insist on misbehaving, do have the courage to do it properly.

Sternly,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

... What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!

So, I just got the telling off of the centuries, yet I was encouraged to go on? What the fuck?! This was becoming masochistic on my part, and I realized I wouldn't participate in that willingly. In the midst of my brain melting, I felt my thighs automatically pulling together, clenching and unclenching despite Mr. Godfrey's clear instructions not to do that anymore-- I knew what happened the last time I was caught doing this, but he was gone now, right? He wouldn't know. He would never know, and I could relieve myself, I could feel better, I could cool down my brain--

Wait.

My fingers went to my keyboard, operating on autopilot, because suddenly, I remembered the loophole. Mr. Godfrey had explicitly offered me an option to this yesterday, when he said that I could do it, but... with his approval.

From: You

Subject: (No Subject)

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

... May I?

Waiting,

Your Secretary.

One minute. One minute and fifty-seven seconds. That was how long it took until my computer filled the silence with a robotic pling, and I could breathe again.

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Re: (No Subject)

Dear secretary,

What a smart girl you turned out to be.

With that said— no. I'll deal with you when I return.

Patiently,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The blinds were down, and the door to Mr. Godfrey's office was slanted, slightly open-- the sight of it made my heart stop in my chest. I had been gone for about three minutes, only to grab a glass of water, fix my hair in the reflection of the windows and pop some gum into my mouth, but I had somehow managed to miss him coming back to his office.

This was bad. This was so bad.

Just as I anxiously hovered around my desk, trying to get a quick glance inside the office to see whether Mr. Godfrey was free, I spotted the briefcase that had been left outside, leaning against the wall. I recognized that briefcase immediately-- Mr. Avery's.

... Oh no.

And it was at this moment that I spotted the man I had been dreading to see all day, yet the one I had waited for with burning fervour. His suit was dark blue today, complementing his pale skin and bringing out the gorgeous brown colour of his hair-- my eyes were morphing into tiny hearts, and I could do nothing to stop it.

But suddenly, green was all I saw. Green, green, green, as I locked eyes with Mr. Godfrey through the crack in the door, and they were beautiful, but they were filled with burning wrath; the sight of it nearly made me accidentally swallow my gum. He crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching, eye twitching with restraint as he quickly jerked his head, motioning for me to get the fuck inside before he chewed my head off.

With a sharp hitch of my breath, I hurried to get through the door, shutting it behind me with a click. In an ideal world, I'd press my back into the door and hyperventilate, but I knew I had a job to do-- by the look of Mr. Godfrey, I needed to get Mr. Avery out, stat.

Anxious, I tried to chew my gum as quietly as possible whilst approaching the intruder. He was going on and on about repainting the lobby a rather particular shade of orange to hopefully raise the happiness-rate in the entire building; "Statistically, orange is the thing-- the colour that is supposed to improve someone's mood!" he said, stammering and stumbling around his words. "I think it would help the general feeling of the office. If your employees walk in happy, why not do it?"

I blinked-- orange? Godfrey Industries... orange? Mr. Avery was clearly a man who was either sick in the head, or sick in the head.

With unsure steps, I took my place next to Mr. Godfrey, who was now leaning against his table, staring back at a rambling Mr. Avery with disbelief-- or was it disgust? I didn't dare to look at him for too long. This way, with him half-sitting, we were almost the same height. For a split second, I wondered how it would feel to kiss him when he was on my level, whether he'd be the kind of man to gently pull me in by my waist or yank me toward him--

My mind would've wandered on like that forever, but out of the blue, Mr. Godfrey extended his hand out in front of my mouth, palm up. Without looking at me, his fingers curled once in a quiet, demanding gesture.

My pulse stuttered.

He wanted the gum.

He wanted to see if I would follow him blindly. This was another test, wasn't it?

I stared at Mr. Godfrey, bewildered, waiting for him to laugh and retract his hand. However, that moment never came. What did come, was an annoyed huff, and another quick curl of his fingers telling me to get on with it without a single word.

So, I leaned forward-- I didn't dare to hesitate too long, and I parted my lips and let the gum fall into Mr. Godfrey's palm. My cheeks burned with shame as my eyes dared to dart toward Mr. Avery, whose voice had faltered mid-sentence.

His gaze flicked down to the hand, then to me, then back again.

God, how humiliating-- and how good it felt to be the one chosen to be humiliated. Even in the thick silence, I had to bite back a rather sheepish smile. Mr. Godfrey and I had managed to shut up our annoying intruder, after all. Efficient. Genius.

But without so much as a glance in my direction, Mr. Godfrey closed his fingers over my gum and turned to drop it into the wastebasket beside his desk, shrugging as he absentmindedly said; "No orange. There will be no orange,"

Mr. Avery could shove his cock up his ass. I knew he was itching to say it.

And on the other side of the room, our annoying guest was fumbling to gather his stuff and get out as fast as possible. I wasn't the only one who got intimidated by Mr. Godfrey, and that was actually rather nice to see. "Oh!-- Of course, yes," Mr. Avery stammered. "It was stupid, really. But I'm always happy to-- to try!" He stumbled toward the door and exited with the clumsy urgency of a man who knew he had overstayed his welcome.

The moment the door clicked shut, I turned back toward Mr. Godfrey, opening my mouth to apologize for letting in the intruder, but I stopped the second I saw green.

He was looking at me now, and it was quiet. The kind of quiet that suffocates, the kind that shreds you apart like the shredder on the 16th floor that nearly chopped my finger off the other day.

Mr. Godfrey didn't say anything. He was just looking at me like he was deciding something, and that made everything a thousand times worse. Was he maybe thinking about how to tell me I was fired, or was he deciding how to deal with me, like he had said in his email? In the midst of my inner panicked monologue, last night's research buzzed into my head.

Dom puts needy sub in her place. The suit-clad men. The handprints left on sore, pink skin. Why had this burned itself into my mind? Why couldn't I be busy with something good for me, like... activism? Ugh, fuck it.

Then, Mr. Godfrey's voice cut through my thoughts with a stern; "Turn,"

What? I blinked. "Pardon?"

"Turn," he repeated, slower this time, voice dipped in that particular kind of mockery only he could master. His fingers tapped against the edge of the desk behind him, impatient. "You do know what that means, don't you? Or did all the video games and the gum rot your brain as well?"

My lips parted with a breath I couldn't catch. I felt heat crawl up my neck, shame prickling against my scalp. I should've turned around and done as told, but instead I stood there, blinking like a deer in headlights, unsure if I was supposed to obey or be insulted. In the midst of it all, I could feel the red lights going off in my brain-- what was he about to do?

Mr. Godfrey sighed, long and theatrical. "Pathetic," he muttered, pushing away from the desk. I let my eyes follow him, allowing myself to watch how fantastically tall he was-- every part of me wanted to climb him.

He was right in front of me now, close enough that I caught a faint trace of his cologne, and then his voice dropped just above a whisper; "Turn. Around,"

Something sharp and electric ran through my spine, and my legs moved before I could stop them; I turned around, and every atom I was made of screamed for him to praise me for it. Face flushed, heart hammering, I stood with my back to him. Silence followed as I felt him looking, like his gaze had weight, and like it was actively crawling up my spine. "Mr. Godfrey, sir, I--"

"Bend over,"

I blinked, unsure I had heard him right. "Excuse me?--"

"My patience is running really damn low, so I suggest you don't make me reiterate a fourth time,"

My breath caught, and it resulted in me hesitating for just a second too long.

Cold fingers curled around the nape of my neck-- not tight, not cruel, but enough to make my knees buckle. Mr. Godfrey pressed, and my body obeyed without another thought; my palms braced against the cool wood of his desk, and to my horror, I could feel my skirt automatically sliding up my thighs.

... Was this why he told me to wear a shorter skirt yesterday?

"Sir?" I breathed, feeling my eyes prickle. For the first time, I found myself feeling scared. I could fantasize all I wanted, sure, but having it all happen in real life? I wasn't sure I was ready for it. "Sir, please don't-- please don't--"

"I'm not going to fuck you," Mr. Godfrey said, calm and precise as his hand left my neck. "I have no interest in that whatsoever, I can assure you. However, I need you to stay still so I can check something out."

Could my boss perhaps read minds? I let out a choppy stream of air, nodding against the desk.

Behind me, Mr. Godfrey moved with no rush. He was crouching, now, and I could feel the deliberate slowness of his breath near the backs of my thighs. Then, his fingers brushed the hem of my skirt, lifting it higher with clinical, unhurried care.

My breath caught; I could've sworn I heard him hum. Why hadn't I worn nicer underwear today? Fucking hell. Of course, I had no idea anyone would be seeing the pair I was wearing right now, but I was happy I had at least chosen something with a little bow in the front.

"You're not wet," he murmured, more to himself than me. "I take it that you didn't go against my word, then?"

Was he talking about how he had denied me getting off earlier today? Me not being wet anymore had nothing to do with that, though. I was sure I could've gotten off completely dry, if I wanted to-- but did Mr. Godfrey need to know that? Certainly not. "I didn't,"

"What?"

"I-- I didn't, sir,"

"Good,"

As I exhaled against the desk, I found my brain buzzing with my inner voice pleading with him to touch me. Just the brush of his knuckles against my inner thigh would make my knees buckle, I was sure-- my cheeks were a rather embarrassing shade of pink as I closed my eyes and imagined how good it would feel if Mr. Godfrey decided to press his thumb against my clit, or even better, against my core to check if my wetness just hadn't reached my underwear. I didn't even care if his hand was still sticky from the gum he'd held in his palm.

But then, I couldn't feel Mr. Godfrey's breath against my thighs anymore. "Stand up," he said, rising behind me.

I scrambled upright like my body had been waiting for permission to move. Fidgeting, anxious, I adjusted my skirt, pulling it down as much as I possibly could. Now, Mr. Godfrey had seen me cum, and seen my underwear. What would be next? Would the next thing be him witnessing my suicide, because he had driven me to it? Hopefully not.

My gaze met his the second I turned around, and I immediately regretted it. Green, green, green. Forbes nose. There was no softness in his expression, no teasing-- just that steady, infuriating coolness of a typical CEO. And just as I thought he was about to say something nice, praise me for following his orders, anything; "You... smell like need,"

I blinked. "Weed?"

"... Weed?" Mr. Godfrey echoed, blinking back at me. "Need. Are you partially deaf, or?--"

"Sorry, sir," I squeaked, no longer meeting his gaze. Why did I think he had said weed? Stupid, stupid! "I swear I don't smoke. I barely even drink, sir."

Somehow, I felt like my blabbering intrigued him. "Oh, is that so?"

"Positive,"

"Well, I do," he said, shrugging. "Weed can be nice. Do you have any schizophrenics in your family?"

What?! "No...?" Not that I knew of?

"Good. Then you most likely won't go into psychosis if you try some," Mr. Godfrey tilted his head, scanning me as his brows drew together just slightly. "You seem like a risk-taker to me, though. Why don't you smoke?"

"I--" My knees were still weak, and I had to clear my throat. "I like my lungs."

Mr. Godfrey hummed; "Why don't you drink?"

"Cause I'd be an alcoholic," I blurted out, swallowing. "I get addicted to things really easily. I'm rather obsessive, sir."

"Obsessive?"

"Yes, sir,"

"About...?"

"Things I shouldn't,"

Mr. Godfrey didn't speak. He just looked at me with a blank expression, not giving away anything until he suddenly moved. One step, then two, and he passed me by. For a split second, he was close enough that I could smell the faint bitterness of his cologne and something else under it: smoke, leather, maybe the edge of something metallic?

He sat down in his chair with a satisfied sigh, spreading out. His green eyes were tethered to me, like if he looked away or blinked, I'd manage to run away. "Down," he said.

Baffled, I stared. "Sir?"

He looked vaguely irritated by the fact that I was still standing. "Get over here, and get on your knees,"

The words hit like a low bell in my chest, reverberating; yet, I obeyed... slowly. When I reached him, my knees kissed the floor, and my skirt folded around my thighs as my heart climbed up my throat. I wasn't sure what this was-- punishment? Reward? A lesson for not having sharp ears? What was about to happen?

He didn't explain; this was Roman Godfrey, for fuck's sake. He didn't explain himself to anyone. Instead, he spread out further, just far enough that the pointed toe of his right shoe came into view. It was glossy black, expensive, possibly new. He angled his foot slightly toward me, casual.

"Obsessive," he repeated, as though he was tasting the word. "I suggest you don't tell me any more of your weak points. I'm compelled to use them against you, and I'm not keen on restraining myself in my own office."

I stared up at Mr. Godfrey, eyes round with a mix of fear and confined excitement. However, his eyes were on his right shoe, watching the way the gloss shone beneath the office lights. "You've done well today, compared to yesterday," he hummed. "You aren't rejecting the structure I'm implementing in you, you've controlled yourself, for once, so... I believe that deserves something. Doesn't it?"

I didn't dare answer-- my thighs were shaking. The floor felt too hard beneath my knees, and still I didn't move. Not because I liked it, but mostly because I kind of hoped it would bruise. I'd bruise my knees for Mr. Godfrey any day. "I-- I don't know, sir," I finally whispered.

"Don't lie. You want something, but you're afraid to ask. You're allowed to ask, are you aware of that?"

I was... allowed? I was so tense I could feel the ache behind my knees. My whole body was humming with unreleased want, my thoughts skipping like stones across a lake I couldn't dive into.

Then, Mr. Godfrey leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, voice dropping: "You can get off now. But if you must, you will use my shoe,"

I blinked. "I-- Sir?"

"You heard me," There wasn't a hint of humor in his tone. "I'm tired of watching you squirm in your seat. Are you not able to cum any other way? If not, then we have to change that."

Shame crashed over me like a hot wave. "I-- I don't know, sir, I haven't tried--"

"Don't play modest. You're obsessive, so obsess," He nodded once, slow and deliberate, at the pointed leather. "Go on."

I couldn't breathe. This was seriously almost exactly like something I had watched in one of the pornos from last night. How was this happening? How was I letting this happen?

But... my body moved.

I shifted forward, the floor scraping faintly under my knees, and lowered myself just enough to press the clothed ache between my legs against the toe of his shoe. The friction was maddening even through my underwear-- just the firm drag of polished leather against a part of me so tender I could barely keep my balance.

My breath hitched, and my pleading eyes found his; "Mr. Godfrey, sir, are you-- are you sure?" Please, please don't let this be some mean trick.

He didn't react-- not a twitch. Just sat there like the authority figure he was, watching me demean myself. "Don't question my word," he said, icy.

... Okay, then.

My thighs trembled as I started to move-- tentative, shallow motions, with my clothed sex gliding against the stiff leather of his shoe. The room blurred out of focus, and I wasn't even sure if I was breathing anymore. Why did this feel so good? I never thought I'd ever sink so low, yet here I was.

There was no sound in the room but the slight drag of fabric and the soft, wet sound my body made against something that would never respond to me.

And still, Mr. Godfrey didn't move, didn't blink, but at least I had his full attention this time. Now, he was actually looking at me. Yet; "Pathetic," he murmured, just loud enough. "It's almost sweet."

I swallowed a gasp and squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn't stop the wave of humiliation from peaking and breaking over me. My cheeks were wet-- maybe with sweat, maybe not. I couldn't tell anymore, yet still, I rocked. Each movement sent a shudder up my spine, each pass over the tip of his shoe tugging a needy, desperate noise out of me. I needed more pressure, needed to lean into it, but I couldn't balance.

Without thinking, I reached forward, planting a shaky hand on the edge of his thigh for support, feeling the soft fabric of his suit against the burning tips of my fingers.

But... I shouldn't have. Holy shit I shouldn't have, because instantly, he recoiled in what I could only decode as disgust. Mr. Godfrey wafted me away like I was something distasteful-- "No," he hissed, biting and sharp. "You don't get to touch me."

Fuck-- I froze. Something about his knee-jerk reaction shocked me to my core. My whole body seized in place, and that was when it hit-- the burn. Not just between my legs, but in my eyes, in my chest. The rejection, sharp and cold and cutting straight through the heat of arousal; my vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. I blinked hard, but it was too late. He saw.

Mr. Godfrey's gaze locked on mine again-- green, cold, assessing. Just for a second, I thought I saw something resembling guilt, but that would be impossible. Roman Godfrey didn't feel guilty about anything. If anything, he made you feel guilty for even existing in his vicinity.

But then, something shifted. He didn't soften, not quite; he didn't have that in him, I think. Still, he leaned forward, slow and deliberate, and brought his hand up between us.

I flinched, until my foggy brain realized Mr. Godfrey's thumb was gently pressing against my lips.

Open.

Without thinking, my mouth wrapped around his thumb, slow, obscene, wet, as my hips ground down harder against his smooth shoe. Something about this functioned like a pacifier, and I suddenly found myself no longer wanting to cry. What the fuck?

Mr. Godfrey's eyes stayed on me, watching the way my lips closed around him. And then, he granted me the words that were the closest to an apology than anything he'd probably ever granted anyone before; "Good girl," he cooed. "That's better."

My tears, freshly humiliated, welled again, but now they mixed with something sickly warm-- something that felt dangerously close to affection for both of us. He wasn't angry anymore. He was... assessing me, testing me out like he was trying me on for size. I could breathe again. He had actually praised me. Roman Godfrey had praised me. That was all I had ever wanted, since the second I started working for him.

Mr. Godfrey shifted his hand, thumb still in my mouth, and the pad of it traced over my tongue like he was checking the texture. My jaw ached to close around it, bite down, do something that would make me feel less helpless, but I didn't dare. I suckled, soft, obedient, grateful.

"There we are," he murmured, like he was proud of a kid for saying a full sentence.

The burn of his affection made me whimper. I didn't mean to, but the sound escaped from somewhere buried deep.

"Was that too much for you?" he asked, brushing a tear from under one eye with the knuckle of his free hand. The question was rhetorical-- he didn't wait for an answer. "Told you we had to talk about boundaries."

I didn't know what to say, yet couldn't say anything at all with his thumb filling my mouth. Still, my body kept moving, clinging to the friction, chasing release like it was the only lifeline I had left.

"Greedy girl," Mr. Godfrey murmured, shaking his head. "You want comfort and corruption. That's a dangerous combination. That'd get you obsessed for sure, and that's not what I want."

What the hell did he want, then? I had no idea.

My fingers curled into fists-- he wasn't wrong. I didn't know how to want something halfway, I never had. I only knew how to consume, obsess, drown, and right now, I could feel myself drowning in the pleasure. Who would've thought grinding against a shoe would feel good? Those girls moaning their asses off in those porn videos were seemingly not lying that much.

Mr. Godfrey watched me the way a handler might study a trembling animal-- somewhere between clinical and captivated. His thumb stayed in my mouth, anchoring me to him, keeping me quiet, subdued. It was too much. It was not enough. I didn't know which.

"That's it," he said, his voice like blood-drenched silk. "You're almost there, aren't you?"

I whimpered around his thumb, nodding, the friction unbearably perfect now; sharp leather, soaked-through panties, and the humiliating rhythm of my own hips chasing a finish that felt impossible to stop.

"Pathetic little thing," he whispered. "You're one heck of a fucking secretary."

That did it-- I shattered.

My orgasm hit like a car crash, sudden and sickeningly sweet; my body convulsed as my hips locked down hard against his shoe. I moaned around his thumb, eyes screwed shut, utterly undone and unable to hide it; I didn't have to.

And Mr. Godfrey just let me. He didn't move. Didn't help. Didn't soothe. He let me. He held his thumb steady in my mouth, watching me with quiet satisfaction as my body betrayed me; I shuddered, and clenching and weeping against something that would never, ever love me.

"Look at that," he murmured when I finally started to come down, my thighs trembling, my body wrecked. "See what happens when you follow my rules?"

I...

Yes, but...

I couldn't believe what had just happened. What the fuck had I done? When would this feeling of shame leave me?

And had I just... gotten off on somebody's shoe?!

The post-orgasm clarity hit me like never before. With the last shred of dignity in my body, I allowed my teeth to gently sink into Mr. Godfrey's thumb-- it was barely anything, barely a scrape, barely a bite, but I had to do something in order to soothe the fire raging through my soul.

So, I get to humiliate myself like this when I follow his rules? I get to feel shame beyond belief in exchange for him shaping me to his liking?

No, sir.

Eyes burning with every feeling churning in my gut, I glared up at Mr. Godfrey through my brows, making him face my rebellion. How dare he use my affliction with him against me like this? How dare he waft my hands away from him? What the fuck was his problem? Why was he doing this?! I wanted to sob and hit him, to beg him to explain what he was doing to me. Was he conditioning me? What for? The image of the previous secretary flashed before my eyes, the odd tear in her skirt making the pit in my stomach heavier than ever; angered, I flared my teeth, sinking them harder into his thumb, hoping for some sort of reaction or wince from him, yet nothing.

Instead, Mr. Godfrey pulled his thumb from between my teeth as though he couldn't feel a thing, and abruptly got up from his chair. I guessed he could see the thoughts behind my narrowed eyes, and it didn't take a genius to figure that it pissed him off. He had granted me my orgasm, so I should be grateful, right? Fuck no. Then, it didn't take long before he got his foot back from under me, and--

I gasped.

Mr. Godfrey pressed his shoe against my chest and pushed.

He stood on top of me, not pressing his whole weight on me, yet it was enough to make my eyes bulge as I tried to catch my breath. My back had hit the floor with a thud, and I struggled to understand what the fuck was happening. I would've hit him, would've tried to get him off of me, but... I wasn't allowed to touch him.

Even as he was stepping on me, my mind wouldn't let me go against him.

... This was so fucking bad.

Mr. Godfrey leaned down, pushing down hard enough to make me whimper, before he hissed with pure wrath in his eyes;

"Brat,"

(a/n: never have I ever found shoe-humping hot. never. I still sorta don't, but this was... yes sorry this was HOT IDKKKK WTF IS HAPPENING TO ME??? BUT THANK U IF YOU'VE READ THIS FARRR AHAHAH<33333)

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#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #hemlock grove #bill skarsgård #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #bill skarsgard #oneshot #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove season 2 #peter rumancek #LMAOOOO poor Peter dealing w reader

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mapileonxputellas · 10 days ago

Text

Private (Kelly Smith x Reader)

Where you and Kelly are in a private not secret relationship.....

Arsenal was your club. It was your life.

Your earliest memory was going to Highbury as a child every weekend, a signed photo of your favourite player at the time sat about your bed, changing every season as your mind flittered between players. At the age of eight you had to beg your mum and dad to redecorate your room from the baby pink princess wonderland to a bright red Arsenal inspired mural. You were a goner through and through.

All you wanted to do was play for Arsenal, in front of thousands of supporters all cheering your name. Your gender was the only issue.

So whilst your twin brother moved through the age groups, eventually signing on for a local lower league club, you were left to face the real world.

From the ages of 16 to 25 you spent your weekdays behind a desk, an admin assistant role you couldn’t have hated more if you tried. You lived for those evenings you spent with your local women’s football team. You weren’t paid, you had to wash your own kits, the other team didn’t turn up sometimes, but you loved it.

And that love paid off. When you were scouted by Arsenal it was a dream come true. It might not have been the glamour you were expecting as a child, you still had to work, you still had to wash your own kits, the crowds were usually hundreds not thousands. But you played for the childhood team you adored.

Your favourite footballing memory came in that 2007 UEFA Women’s Cup final, at 23 it felt like you’d conquered the world. As a central defender your two clean sheets more than contributed to a 1-0 double legged win over the favourites.

But you had a lot more to thank Arsenal for than just the footballing memories.

It gave you the family you so desperately loved. Kelly was the star in that team, the person you all looked to in hard times, and the person you fell for from day one. And maybe if it wasn’t for those celebrations in 2007, following 2 years of pining for her, you wouldn’t have ever had the courage to go for it.

And that led you to today.

When the both of you retired in 2017 you were very lucky to have different offers available to you both, whilst Kelly went down the coaching route, heavily being involved within the game and now sitting as assistant coach for Arsenal women. You on the other hand took a role in front of the camera, now a regular on several platforms, presenting and commentating on the game you loved. All of that whilst being a regular at Arsenal, taking on a mentoring role within the club.

You never intended to keep your relationship a secret. At the start maybe, the 7-year age gap between you both wasn’t something you wanted to be twisted in the media, you knew you had something good and that was all that mattered.

But then the moment just never arrived, of course the fans now knew you were together, but you had never spoken in public about it. Private but not secret.

Your wedding following your retirement was very intimate, a few close friends and family probably sealed the deal in the minds of many. It was too much of a co-incidence for you both to post pictures of your own wedding bands at the same time.

If not then your growing family definitely did. In 2019 you welcomed your first daughter into the world, Elsie, followed by Theo in 2021 and your family was completed by the arrival of Ava in 2024. You’d been spotted by fans together on multiple occasions, been in the background of photos together but you never felt the need to make any sort of statement on it.

But today was special in so many ways.

Arsenal had the chance to win a European cup for the first time since you did back in 2007.

You’d barely seen Kelly for the past week, she was either sleeping, playing with the children or at Arsenal. You arrived in Lisbon late last night, heading straight to your hotel, both of your parents accompanying you on the trip, not just to help with the flight but you were working today.

Of course you had both mentioned what was happening today enough that your kids knew what was happening, at 7 you were woken by Elsie and Theo jumping on top of you ready to start the day.

“Mummy’s going to do it today.” Elsie mentioned as you all sat and ate breakfast, Ava suckling the bottle you’d prepped earlier as you ate with the other hand. “She told me.”

“Do you think?”

“Of course, she’s the best.” You probably should have emphasised how good Barcelona were, how Arsenal were the underdogs in many peoples’ eyes. But today felt different, you’d visited some of the squad this week. You built up a mentoring relationship with some of the players, Leah and Lotte especially at some points had felt like your adopted children. Katie was the kid’s crazy auntie. Your kids had become regular visitors at the training ground. You knew every player would give it everything today and on their day they could beat anyone. “Then when I’m older I’m going to win it.”

“With Arsenal?”

“Why would I play for anyone else?”

…..

Your job as a presenter took you to some incredible stadiums. You’d been part of the crew at the past two World Cups and the Euro’s in England, Lisbon matched all of them.

You liked to arrive early, take in the atmosphere both before everyone was on the move and everything was rushed. The children were all taken care of by their grandparents, you were yet to get changed, still in your shorts and old Arsenal shirt and you stood in the centre circle, just taking it all in.

You could feel the nerves creeping in, you’d been so confident all week, it felt different and yet football was nothing without nerves. This mattered and with that came nerves. You wanted this, not just for women’s sport in England, not just for those players, for this club, all the staff, you wanted it for Kelly. For all the work she’s put in, for those long hours and night away. For her.

“Any final words of wisdom?” You were so in your own head you’d blocked out the stream of players now making their way into centre field, Leah coming to wrap her arm around your shoulder. “You good?”

“I will be tonight.” You replied, wrapping your own arm around her waist. “How are you?”

“I’m good, it’s going to be tough but we have to believe.” She sounded confident. “At least that’s what you’ve been telling me all week.”

“Don’t leave any regrets out there, as long as you do that then you can look back on today as a good experience. Whatever happens, it’s all out there.”

“How are the kids?”

“Excited, Elsie told me this morning that you’re going to win tonight and then she’ll win it when she’s older.”

“That girl.” That look told you all you needed to know, you were going to have your hands full with that girl.

“I know.”

“How can she not be when she’s got two legends for mums.”

“Well one at least, not sure about the other one.” Kelly sneaked up behind you both, her body language the image of cool.

“I’ll leave you to it, see you later.” Leah leaned in to give you a hug.

“Go shine out there.” You whispered in her ear, giving her one final tap before you were left alone. “You ready?”

“Of course, what time are they due to get here?”

“Not until just before kick-off, they’ll never sit still otherwise. They’ve got your genes after all.”

“Nothing to do with you of course.”

“Never, I-“

“Y/N, make-up are ready for you.” The floor runner interrupted you both. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” You waved her off before pulling Kelly into your arms, the small number of cameras in the vicinity not enough to spoil this moment. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

……

You could never be impartial in a game like this.

You just about managed to be persuaded to take off your Arsenal shirt, the compromise being a bright red satin skirt with a white shirt tucked in.

Your make up was done, you’d ironed out your shirt, checked in on the kids en-route and now it was time to be in front of the camera.

Karen Carney and Fara Williams would be with you today, Becky anchoring the show. The analysis shifted between both teams as they warmed up behind you, the atmosphere building as the crowd grew.

“Y/N you were part of that team back in 2007,” Becky turned to you. “We all know you work closely with Arsenal. What advice have you given them these past few weeks?”

“The cliché is to just say go out and enjoy it. Of course I’ve told them that but it’s just about leaving it all out there. As long as you do your job and you do it to the best of your ability then you can leave today without any regrets.”

“How are your nerves holding up?” Fara teased you. “You love this club.”

“I do, I was doing alright until about two hours ago. Now I’m nervous, I just want it so much for all of them.”

The focus switched to the change in Barcelona’s coach before the attention switched back to Arsenal and their new team.

“Obviously Renee can’t do it alone, she’s joined by Kelly Smith. Y/N your old teammate, what does she offer to this team?” Becky ever the professional asked, a few snickers coming from your counter-parts.

“She’s again just the ultimate professional. There’s no-one better for the team to have around them when she’s there to offer advice. She loves Arsenal and she’s committed to making this team better and taking them to days like today.”

“How has she coped this week?” Karen asked.

“She’s very chilled,” You answered honestly. “At least that’s the version I see, she works long hours and then comes home and switches off.”

It felt natural to speak about her, you were private as a couple but it felt right to give her credit.

“I’m sure right now she’s just in the zone, maybe if you cross to her in the final ten minutes she’ll be anything but calm.”

……

You were anything but calm.

If you had a heart rate monitor on right now, you were sure it would be through the roof. Your ring finger was red raw from fidgeting with your wedding ring throughout. You couldn’t sit still. The air felt tight around you, your chest pounding as you watched the clock slowly tick.

Time was slowing down but Arsenal were winning.

Arsenal were minutes away from being European Champions.

Football in your mind was separated into moments as a player and moments as a supporter and the moment that Stina goal went in was the most joy you’d had as a spectator. You’d grabbed Fara next to you, clinging on for dear life as you jumped onto the seat. Soaking in the atmosphere as the Arsenal red around you jumped for joy.

That moment felt like a lifetime ago now as you watched the board for 7 added minutes go up.

You’d been ushered over to pitch side, ready to step on the moment the whistle went, except now you weren’t just fidgeting in your seat. You were pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Glancing at the clock. Watching the play. Closing your eyes.

It was almost over, Barcelona had a freekick in their own half. Last chance saloon. You couldn’t watch as they got the ball going again.

Then it was all over.

The ref’s whistle blew.

The crowds showed the two sides of football. Barcelona fans slumped in their seats, Arsenal fans jumped out of theirs.

Arsenal were champions.

You were known as the steely defender in your playing days, sent off on a couple of occasions. Not against the odd yellow card. But right now you couldn’t stop the tears from coming as you watched the players and staff swarm on the pitch. Their joy bringing you so much joy.

They only increased as you looked up into the stands, your eyes trained on the little figures in their box, away from the mess currently in the crowds, the smile on their faces as they jumped up and down enough to bring out a little sob. They were right.

You were glad the cameras weren’t on you right now as the TV pictures stayed on the players, your voices now transmitting over them.

“Y/N we can see you’re very emotional right now.” Becky said. “Can you describe how you’re feeling right now?”

“I’m just so happy for the players and the staff, everyone. They deserve it so much, they were all exceptional today to a woman they all did their job. I couldn’t be more proud of them.”

“She’s just glad it’s all over.” Fara interrupted you. “I think she lost ten years in those last ten minutes.”

“Maybe more.”

You handed back over to the commentary team for the team to be given their medals and then the trophy lift. It was a good thing they didn’t need you for commentary as you were honestly left speechless watching on as your wife and all her colleagues received their medals and then joined the team on the podium.

You rejoined your own colleagues on the podium as the team began to disperse around the pitch, giving the fans in the stadium a lap of honour with the trophy.

“Y/N talk us through how tiring it is to defend like Arsenal did over 90 minutes.” Becky asked you.

“It’s exhausting, Barcelona enjoyed really good spells of possession at times today. It would have felt like it’s just them coming in waves and waves, you have to stay pinpoint focused otherwise they’ve got players like Aitana and Alexia who can take an inch and produce a goal.”

“You’ll all have had tough moments in your careers, Stina Blackstenius has had lots of those moments over the past season. How will today have felt for her?”

“Well live for those moments as footballers.” Fara started. “Football comes with it’s tough moments, there are times for everyone where-“

You should have been expecting it really, you were patiently waiting to speak to the players, expecting to get your moment in turn. What you definitely weren’t expecting was for a body to jump on your back, completely knocking you off balance and tumbling to the floor.

“Yess girllllll.” The Irish accent gave it away, so many more bodies piling on top of you, the cameras capturing the moment you were stuck at the bottom of a full pile on, sweat all over your body but you couldn’t care less.

Their smiles lit up the whole pitch as they helped you back on your feet, Leah, Katie, Vic, Lotte, Steph all giving you massive hugs.

“Girls can we get some thoughts on today.” Fara asked them, each of them putting their happiness into words, a few swears coming out but it was filled with delight.

“But I have to thank Y/N.” Katie said pulling you into her arms again. “As a young girl you took me in, under your wing, you showed me what it took to become a professional footballer. You looked after me when I was homesick, invited me into your home.”

These girls couldn’t stop making you cry.

“Even now I know I can always come and get your advice, on football, life, anything. You mean so much to the whole team.” The other girls nodded in agreement. “This one is for you as well. I love you girl.”

“I love you lots.” You whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Go and celebrate.”

“I’ll save you a tequila.”

“You better.”

You’d only just gotten over that, the focus turning back to analysis, watching back their highlights of the game when you spotted a figure walking towards you.

Fuck professionalism, this was your moment. “I’m sorry.” You apologised, setting down the microphone on the podium and running. Running into the awaiting arms of Kelly, her arms wrapping around your waist as she spun you in the air. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She whispered back, sealing your lips in a short kiss. “We did it!”

“You did it.”

Kelly was a national treasure, of course they would want an interview and you held her hand as you both made your way back to the podium.

Of course she did the usual questions, the nerves, the game plan, how the players performed. “How does this compare to 2007?” Karen asked Kelly.

“It feels different, we were in Borehamwood, in front of fractions compared to today. Lots of us had work to go to the next day. Now we all know what this means, we’ve worked for months, years for this moment.” She explained. “Plus I’ve got a family here watching on, people I want to make proud.”

“And you did just that.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around her. “People won’t see the hard work you’ve put in to get to this moment but I do, our children do, you’re the best partner, best mum and you’re our hero.”

“You guys…..” Karen teased you both. “I think you’ve got some little people here to celebrate with.”

You couldn’t do anything but watch as Elsie and Theo ran onto the pitch, straight into Kelly’s arms. You let them have their moment, going over to the sidelines to grab Ava from your mum’s arms before joining them all in a group hug.

“You did it mum!”

“We did.” You couldn’t help but laugh as a mixture of tears and joy lined all your faces.

“I need to find Auntie Katie,” Elsie muttered leaving your grasp. “She promised me something…..”

It wouldn’t be till later on you found out what that was, as you sat in Kelly’s arms in the corner of the party. The two of you all danced out as you watched the younger girls dance the night away, alcohol and pizza lining their stomachs. The two of you in your own little bubble of love.

“Oi you two, how would I go about getting a football net installed in your background…..”

#woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal imagines #arsenal wfc #arsenal imagine #kelly smith #kelly smith x reader #kelly smith imagine #arsenal women

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mysteryshoptls · 15 days ago

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Jade Leech Shared Lines

Tutorial: What have you planned to do today? I shall accompany you wherever you go.

Level Up 1: Oh, my... I see you've chosen to look after me.

Level Up 2: Much obliged. I shall do my utmost to live up to your expectations.

Level Up 3 / Buddy Level Up: Heh heh... This feels somewhat exhilarating.

Level Max: I am surprised at my own capabilities for such power... Hehe, not bad at all.

Vignette Level Up: How strange, at first I thought you were just a dull human, but... Oh, please don't be upset, that means I don't see you that way anymore.

Spell Level Up: Magic on land is rather fascinating. I would certainly like to try it for myself.

Friendship Level Up: It seems I cannot help but stay longer than intended here in Ramshackle. I do hope I am not disturbing you.

Friendship Level Max: Thank you for everything. Your hospitality is pleasant and appreciated. Perhaps I could receive some guidance in these matters sometime? Of course, you’ll be fully compensated

Uncapped: I am grateful at how much you've done to bring me to this point. I shall keep it up as to not let you down.

Groovification: I didn't mean for you to witness something so unsightly... It seems I got a little unexpectedly excited. Heh.

Lesson Select 1: Please select whichever class you'd like. If it suits me, I may join you.

Lesson Select 2: Allow me to assist you in whichever class you select. I am always fully prepared.

Lesson Select 3: Shall I provide my highest recommended classes for you since you're feeling so indecisive?

Lesson Start: We must make sure to enjoy today as well.

Lesson Finish: Well done. Time to turn our efforts to the next class.

Battle Start: Please go easy on me.

Battle Won: I had hoped to have a little more fun… How unfortunate.

Trouble 1: I apologize for the shameful sight.

Trouble 2: What a shame. I was so close… Oh, I’m only talking to myself.

GIFT CALENDAR 2023: “How will you be spending the day?” I thought perhaps I would make a herbarium. The atmosphere this time of year tends to be dry, so it is the perfect opportunity. How would you like to join me? No need to worry, I will show you how everything is done.

Birthday Login Message 1: Welcome to Floyd’s and my birthday party. I am sure Floyd will be ecstatic to also hear that you have come. Now, the food has already been prepared. Fufu, no need to hold yourself back. I am only doing what I wish to do.

Birthday Login Message 2: Thank you for your well wishes. And to think that you would also listen to what I wish as a present… Let me see… How about next time, could you accompany me on a hike? …Fufu, I’m honored that you’ve agreed to come. This has become such a wonderful birthday.

Birthday Login Message 3: Thank you for your warm wishes. Will you be able to attend my birthday party today? …I am glad to hear it. Incidentally, do you have any foods you dislike? …Oh, by no means do I have any intentions of learning your weak points, or anything of the sort. I am only looking to enjoy today’s party with you to our hearts’ content. Fufufu.

Birthday Login Message 4: Is that supposed to be a present for me? …Ah, no need to shirk. I will wholeheartedly accept this from you. You see, there are those who would attempt to startle me with trick boxes and the like, so… I was simply wondering what it was that you were planning on giving me. Fufu, I am looking forward to opening it.

Birthday Login Message 5: Oh my, have you come to celebrate my birthday? I thank you from the bottom of my heart. My schedule had just opened up, so please, stay a while. You see, due to the change of weather, unfortunately the Mountain Lover’s Club was unable to proceed with our club activities. I’m afraid I was quite devastated that I would not be able to spend my time basking in the mountain’s glory… But then you appeared, [Yuu]-san. I’m sure we can make this birthday a lively one.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst translation #mention: floyd #mention: yuu

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leah-lover · 1 year ago

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Two hearts, one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader

An age gap romance. Part 2

“ We are delighted to introduce you to this young star. She is a 2 time world cup champion, the youngest ever to achieve that. A 2 time NWSL winner. A final’s MVP and just overall an inspiration. Welcome to the show.” said the reporter next to you. The studio was quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears. This wasn't the first time you were on TV but you were uncertain about the way the news you were about to deliver is gonna be perceived.

“ Thank you for having me.” you respond with a smile on your face.

“ After your recent NWSL win you were the talk of the sports world. Everybody is interested in whether you are gonna resign with your club or not. What do you say to those questions?”

“ Well I am sad to say that I will not resign with Seattle but very excited to say that a team I have been dreaming of joining has reached out to sign me. I have signed a 4 year contract with FC barcelona.”

“ Oh my god, that's exciting. Tell us how you feel at the moment.”

“ Well, I am very excited,but sad to say goodbye to my family in the states and at seattle. I think this challenge is gonna help me develop as a footballer and learn new styles.”

“ Well, we wish you good luck.”

“ Thank you.”

You exit the studio and the weight of the secret drops from your shoulder. You were gonna leave your home for a more competitive team and a shot at the chapion’s league.

Your move to Barcelona was smooth. You celebrated your run at your old club with the girls, took your flight the next day and landed in sunny Barcelona, the weather was as great as they all said. You then went directly to your new apartment. The time zone change weighed heavily on your body so you took a shower immediately, put your sheets in your new bed and laid down as soon as you could. You then opened your phone only for it to freeze due tha new messages and followers you received. You could see all the comments and messages your new teammates wrote on your post congratulating you on the signing and wishing well for you. This made you excited for your first day tomorrow.

When you woke up the next day you were nervous to say the least. You got ready, called a taxi and headed to the facility. You first got a tour of the facility which was empty because it was early. You met as much staff as you could, did your fitness and health test, a photoshoot, and shot some content. By the time you were done your teammates were done training too. You were ushered by the assistant coach to go to the field and meet everybody.

Your heart was beating like a drum. You were standing next to alexia putellas, aitana bonmati, lucy bronze, and mapi leon. Those people are more experienced and have more accolades than you.

“ Everybody please welcome our new signing from the US.” said your coach which caused all of them to start cheering.

“Hola a todos. Estoy emocionado de ser parte de este equipo, compartir el campo con todos ustedes y ganar algunos trofeos con ustedes.”

“Joder, hablas español y tus estadísticas son buenas, nos llevaremos muy bien.“ said patri putting her arm on your shoulder and guiding you inside.

“Si ella hablara catalán habríamos sido mejores amigas.” said aitana sarcastically.

The rest of the day went on great, you had lunch with the girls, you laughed with them, and exchanged stories. They welcomed you very well.

“ for a young girl you really carry yourself well.” said lucy

“ I had to grow up quickly.” you respond to her.

Your first month at Barcelona was amazing. You got on with the girls really well, training was going well, you had your first start within 2 weeks of your arrival and the fans were really happy with you after your first hattrick in the last match.

“Necesitamos celebrar tu primer mes exitoso con nosotros estrella.” said mapi while you were recovering in the gym. Estrella was the Spanish translation of the nickname the fans gave you when you were getting famous, which was stargirl. That nickname was used by everybody you knew, even the press. But from them it sounded different.

“ Yeah sure, just text me the details.” You responded.

You then went home, showered, and rested. You then got a message from the group chat.“ La terrazza. 8:00.”

Since they went there to celebrate you, you decided to show up and show out. You decided on a black maxi dress, heels, gold accessories, and a red lip.

You drove to the club and got there at 8 sharp. You went inside, and headed straight to the bar to order a drink. The girls started coming little by little, and by a few hours you were all jammed up dancing in the middle of the dance floor. However, your captain didn't join you; she instead opted to watch from the bar.

Alexia has been quiet and reserved around you. Maybe she didn't like you or maybe she was just a quiet person, you never really thought about it before.

“chicas voy a ir al baño.” You yell so that you can be heard over the loud music and exit the dance floor.

Surprisingly the bathroom was empty. You got your business done and went over to the mirror to fix your makeup.

“Parece que te lo estás pasando bien aquí en Barcelona..” said a voice from behind you which took you a minute to realize it was Alexia 's.

“ Capitana I am too drunk for Spanish right now.” You respond still facing the mirror

“ You look good. I mean happy in Barcelona.” She said nervously.

“ Well that's because of you and your friends out there. Actually it was more your friends than you since you hate me.” You respond l, alcohol making you braver than you usually are.

“ I could never hate you. I just can't control myself around you.” She says half whispering. “tengo que ir.” She added before she exited the bathroom.

“ This is definitely something I need to visit tomorrow when I am sober.” You say to yourself before joining the girls again. You were told that Alexia left which caused you to have more questions but you didn't give it much thought. You partied more with the girls before leaving.

Your head was pounding the next morning but you couldn't remember anything, only that you had a great time.

The following weeks were nothing short of spectacular. You were training well, winning every game, scoring every game, and you really built a community with the girls. But Alexia was giving you more space than usual which you couldn't understand why.

Jonathan could see that Alexia was cornering herself away from you so he decided to pair you with each other on everything under the excuse of her giving you more experience since she was older than you. She didn't talk when she was near you, she barely even touched you. This caused commotion in your brain. You lost sleep over why she despised you so much.

One day you had enough of the questions in your brain so you waited in the locker room knowing that she wouldn't come to it to avoid you. You stayed there af-ter all the girls left. After a while alexia entered the locker room

“ Have I ever done anything to offend you?” you ask as soon as you see her figure.

“ Mierda, me asustaste, pensé que no había nadie aquí.” she said taking a few steps back

“ capitana please just give a straight answer. What have I ever done to you?.”

“ We talked about this and my answer was nothing, the problem is in me.”

“ when did we talk about this i don't remember anything.”

“ that night at the party now will you please leave so that i can change and go home i am really tired.”

“ Alexia, this is eating away at me. All I want is for us to be friends or just teammates. Tell me what I did so that we can get past it.”

“ You did nothing, just get over it. You have plenty of friends.”

“No puc fer això ara mateix, és massa jove i hauria de proteger-la de mi” she whispers in catalan and leave without looking at you.

You didn't understand catalan but it was close to Spanish which you were fluent in so when you heard her words you could remember them easily. After she left you reached for your phone and translated her words. “ I can't do this right now. He is too young and should protect her from me.”

Alexia’s words shocked you. You felt dizzy and couldn't focus. You never realized that alexia could have anything for you except hate. You loved her and admired her for the player and person she is. You looked up to her kind heart and intelligent brain. But no matter what you thought about it you needed her approval, her attention, and her focus to be on you as much as you were on her. That's why her distance from you left you puzzled.

You knew that you couldn't stay like that, not when your brain was filled with questions that needed answering.

You left the training facility, and headed straight to Alexia's house.

Before knocking on her door your knees were weak and your brain was quiet. She opened the door mere moments later.

“ What did you mean by protecting me from you?” you asked as soon as she opened the door.

“ What are you doing here?” she asked.

“ What did you mean, alexia?”

“ i don't want to talk about this.”

“ well i do it's the only thing i have been thinking about.”

You force your way inside and she closes the door after you

“ You are not this passive aggressive. I know you. I heard alot about you. This thing you are hiding from me is killing me.” you say to her once she is in front of you.

“ Believe me when I say that I am protecting you.”

“ it's not your choice capitana. What are you protecting me from?”

“ I am protecting you from my feelings for you god damn it. We can't be together and that is all I have been thinking about. I have been thinking about you, your body, your laughter, your eyes. It’s driving me insane.” she yells as she slams the wall behind you.

You weren't shocked, you managed to keep your calm. You held onto her hand which was still on the wall. You backed up a little bit and didn't say a word.

“ this can't happen, you are 23, i am 30. I am older than you. I outrank you in the team. I just…”

“ i dont care.” you interrupt her still holding on to her arm. “ capitana i dont give a fuck. I want you. I need you. Do you want me?” you add.

“More than you'll ever know.” she whispers.

The air was still. The tension was high. You feel your body unintentionally move towards alexia. Your face was millimeters away from her you could feel her breath on your lips. You somehow got brave enough to kiss her. The kiss cut short because she pulled away.

“ please capitana i want this. I want you.”

She then kisses you deeply. Her need for you was apparent. She took control of all of you, not just your lips. She picked you up and walked towards her bedroom all while kissing you. She then threw you on her bed.

“ Are you sure estrella.” whispers

“ I never wanted anything more in this world.”

#woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #woso appreciation #woso request

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edamameimei · 4 months ago

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Perhaps, Even This (Megan Skiendiel x Reader SMAU)

“what a joy, perhaps, to remember even this.”

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

tws: kms/kys jokes. this story will dive into topics such as depression, anxiety, reckless substance use, and toxic relationships. if any of those things affect you in any negative way, please do not interact with this story!! take care of yourself!!

tags: smau, crack, fluff, will get pretty angsty at times. university!au, golden retriever!megan x black cat!reader, sexual jokes, lots of swearing, future suggestive themes.

feat: katseye, txt, lesserafim, ive + more to come!

pairing: megan skiendiel x gn!reader

status: on going!

notes: this smau is not a REAL portrayal of the people in this fic and are not based on any real-life events. this was made for entertainment purposes. some idols’ ages were changed for the plot. all pics are from pinterest! dividers were made by me in canva pro!

profiles: hybe crashouts 1 2 dream academy alumni 1 2

chapters:

00. prologue (written)

01. reinforcements

02. roommates to lovers

03. the duet (half written)

04. omg slut!

05. AA meeting

06. mad respect

07. dumb question

08. floor meeting

09. turtles

10. homewrecker

11. picasso

12. hallelujah or whatever

13. u care

14. sounds good (half written)

15. the pigeon

16. poetry slam

17. oh! nice!

18. nonchalant mfer

19. meiyok (half written)

20. lambda

21. favorite person (half written)

BONUS: winter break

22. no homo

23. I'm grown ok?

24. scout's honor

25. kidnapping (half written)

26. yapper

27. jimmy neutron

28. dark room (written)

29. just stay (half written)

30. did u die???

31. redemption arc

BONUS: megan fan club

32. my protege

33. spidey senses

34. the weight (half written)

35. oh. ouch.

36. the beginning (written)

37. let her go

38. breakthrough

39. yn n friends (half written)

40. rescue mission (half written)

41. ur gonna love it <3

42. WWMD ™

43. whiskered dimples (half written)

44. off the hook

BONUS: ill give you a dollar

BONUS: please do

45. deja vu

46. yn's commune

47. wrap it up

48. the project

49. what a joy

50. to remember even this (THE END)

more to come...

#katseye x reader #katseye smau #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #lara raj #sophia laforteza #jeong yoonchae #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader #perhaps even this smau

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fayes-fics · 6 months ago

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To All, A Good Night

Parings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome), modern AU

Summary: 'Twas the night before Christmas at Bridgerton House, and many things are stirring...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, spanking, mild restraint, dirty talk, voyeurism/exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, edging, vaginal sex, handjob, hair pulling, verbal degradation, orgasms, creampie, aftercare.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Happy Holidays, everyone! Have a filthy Christmas threesome. This is a sequel to Driven To Distraction, which I've been meaning to write for over a year. Best to read that first if you haven't already. This immediately follows that eventful car ride. Thanks to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta. Enjoy! <3

As Benedict pulls the car up outside their impressive London family home, all you can think is that it looks beautiful, the foliage clinging to its handsome facade bedecked with lights.

It’s also the last place you expected to be tonight: a spirited spat with Anthony turning into something else entirely on your journey to London, with Benedict as an eager voyeur. Now, here you are with both Bridgerton boys—a flutter behind your ribs as to what awaits you behind those imposing doors.

Anthony rounds to your side of the car and chivalrously opens the door, offering a hand to help you out as Benedict retrieves the night bag you stopped at your place to grab from the boot of the car. Anthony doesn't let go as you walk up the steps to the front door.

“Welcome to Bridgerton House, y/n,” he smiles, entering a code onto a glowing keypad as the door silently pops open, revealing a grand hallway decorated so festively.

“This is beautiful,” you gasp, the hallways almost fully lit just by the huge twinkling tree and lighted garlands hanging from every rail.

“I think we should all have a nightcap, don't you?” Benedict offers smoothly, a warm hand landing on your lower back.

“Excellent idea, brother,” Anthony concurs, offering an elbow for you to take and leading you down a corridor from the grand hallway.

You are swept into a wood-panelled games room, a large billiards table taking centre stage, a bar across one side of the room and collections of wingback leather chairs arranged in clusters. Another Christmas tree makes the room glow. You wonder idly if they have a tree in every room.

“Your very own private club,” you jest lightly, impressed.

“Indeed,” Anthony chirps, releasing your hand to round behind the bar and grab an expensive whiskey bottle from one of the glass shelves. Benedict slides closer behind you as you watch Anthony pour out three generous helpings.

“No one really comes in here except the two of us and Colin,” Benedict assures. “And Colin is off in South America on his travels.”

“So this is a private space. Devoid of interruptions?” you smirk, leaning backwards into his warm body, unmistakable in your intentions, his hand curling possessively around your hip. You doubt anyone else is awake in the house anyway, seeing as it’s almost 2am on Christmas Day.

“Very much so,” Benedict rumbles, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

You all grab a glass each and raise them in a silent toast. The caramel smoke of the drink is exceptional as it slides over your tongue.

“A game?” Anthony suggests, gesturing to the table.

“I'm terrible at it, but sure,” you shrug, thinking it an excellent excuse to have both teach you the correct technique, ideally close up.

“We will help,” Benedict chuckles as if he knows where your thoughts have slid before releasing his hold on you and moving to set up the table.

Within a few minutes, you have had both men instructing you. But you are not paying a jot of attention to their guidance, just enjoying the warm, solid press of their bodies as you line up each shot. It's Benedict’s second turn assisting you when Anthony throws out a statement that kicks things up a notch:

“I meant what I said in the car...” his words echoing into the crystal glass he sips from.

Anthony’s offer for you to fuck his brother while he watches rings in your mind as Benedict's hand slides over yours, guiding your placement.

“I just have one other condition,” Anthony appends, his stare intensifying.

“What’s that brother?” Benedict queries, his breath warm on your shoulder as you retract the cue from the ball, aiming as best you can.

“You fuck her right here, over this table,” Anthony breezes, making you miss the shot entirely, the ball spiralling way off to the left.

“That was sabotage,” you decry, even as molten heat settles low in your stomach at the very thought.

“Think of it as a Christmas gift for me,” Anthony quips, ignoring your indignation.

Benedict is still leaning over you, even though there is no reason for him still to be there, the warmth of his torso seeping through his shirt. You watch as Anthony stands, picks up his cue and bends over the billiards table directly opposite you to assess his shot.

“I warn you though, brother, this one is a handful,” he advises coolly, looking at Benedict over your shoulder as you stare at Anthony’s mouth, wanting to kiss him so bad your lips tingle. “You saw how she was in the car. She is a brat who needs to be brought into line. Isn't that right?” he taunts, snapping his gaze to you.

“Only to you, Bridgerton,” you challenge, your heart quickening as he raises an eyebrow. “If your brother is nice to me, I’ll be a good girl. Just for him,” you goad, a craving to push both of their buttons, tilting your pelvis a fraction into Benedict’s, an insistent swelling brushing your bum.

“But what if I'm not inclined to be nice either?” Benedict queries dangerously, his teeth grazing your earlobe. A depth charge of lust as you realise they are cut from a similar cloth.

“Then I’ll rebel against you too,” you murmur, stuttering as the hand on your hip suddenly slides over the round of your buttock and yanks up your dress, exposing your flesh and scrap of underwear to the air of the room.

“Will you now?” he dares, fingers swirling promisingly on your bare bottom.

Anthony chuckles again, seemingly uncaring he cannot take his shot with you still bent over the table, Benedict bearing you down onto the slightly ticklish green felt.

“Most certainly,” you vow, twisting to look coquettish over your shoulder, your core burning hot already.

He grabs your jaw so your mouths almost touch, and there is a sharp, stinging slap to your bottom cheek. It makes you moan over his lips, adding to the inferno between your legs.

“Behave,” Benedict warns in a tone that makes you want to slide to your knees before him.

“Never,” you challenge, your lips hovering on his, as out of the corner of your eye, you see Anthony withdraw, abandoning his cue, the game apparently over. He rearranges a chair to face you directly.

Well, he did say he wanted to watch…

“Her safeword is pineapple,” Anthony calls out nonchalantly as he settles into the wingback. “But she never uses it,” he smirks, the leather creaking slightly as he shifts his hips.

Benedict huffs a bemused noise over your lips; you taste the warmth of the whiskey on his breath.

“Kiss me,” you murmur.

There is another stinging slap to your bare bum, and again you groan.

“Only good girls get kisses,” Benedict teases, his chest rumbling against you. “Earn it.”

“How?”

He slides the billiards cue from your grip, standing upright.

“Hands behind your back.”

You follow the clipped order immediately, your chin resting on the felt. The cool, polished wood of the cue is fed between the crook of your elbows and your ribs, essentially pinning you down.

“If this moves, I stop,” his warning portentously, your stomach suddenly roaring with butterflies, on tenterhooks about what he might do.

He kneels behind you, large hands rounding your hips, tugging at your underwear, easing it over the globes of your bottom until it pooled around your heels. His breath is warm on your thighs as he taps your ankle to make you widen your stance, and then large hands pull your cheeks apart. You clench with excitement. To have one Bridgerton brother eat you out in an evening was wonderful; to have two seems miraculous. But instead, two long fingers trail down your slit and, with a force that robs your breath, hook into your leaking pussy. He groans as your walls cling hot and wet around his knuckles as he pumps in a rocking motion, his teeth grazing your bum.

“Come silently, then you earn a kiss,” he commands, and his fingers graze a spot inside that makes you want to scream, dragging harshly, making every hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.

Fuck, he knows precisely what he is doing too.

Your eyes lock with Anthony’s, who smirks at you across the room—making a show of toying with his straining fly. You want to kneel between his splayed legs and pull the metal tab open with your damn teeth.

Benedict’s fingers are merciless inside you, the air filling with wet, cloying suction sounds. Your hands flex, pinned in place, needing something to grasp onto, toes scrunching into the satin footbed of your strappy heels. Wanting to call out, moan, or make any kind of noise but knowing it’s forbidden. Instead, you curl your lips under your teeth and whimper as silently as you can to the onslaught.

‘Say my name,’ Anthony mouths exaggeratedly, as his zip relents and his cock springs forth. Your eyes ping greedily between his fist, which starts to pump his cock lazily, and his face.

You know what this is. Even as his younger brother is taking you apart, he wants you to call out his name—a fraternal competition that just adds a delicious thread of tension. You shake your head, not wanting to break Benedict’s silence rule, needing to come.

‘Who is the best you’ve had?’ Anthony pushes the topic, mouthing slowly, overenunciating even though no sound comes out, his face arrogantly handsome, a bead of precum glistening on his knuckles.

‘Bridgerton,’ you mouth in return, just as Benedict twists his fingers, and your eyes roll, face planting into the felt, uncaring of the drool escaping the corner of your mouth as you fight the urge to scream. His thumb swipes between your cheeks and begins to massage your other hole. Not pushing in, just a circular surface motion that makes you shiver; it feels so good.

Benedict laughs richly as his little finger spears forward and catches your clit. You can't help it; you scream into your mouth, so much overlapping sensation at once, your thighs shaking, your body tensing, so close to breaking.

“You’re close now, aren’t you?” Benedict smugly assesses, his fingers moving so fast inside you, and you nod enthusiastically, your forehead rubbing harshly over the baize.

As you begin to circle that blissful edge, lungs and clit burning, he withdraws and stands up behind you. You can sense his victorious, lopsided smile as he looks down on you, writhing and squealing behind your teeth, the frustration of being denied at the last minute too much.

“Oh, you’re right, brother,” he sounds winded, “she’s glorious.”

You know your face is flushed and your eyes wild as you try to twist and look pleadingly at him to do something, anything, to nudge you over the edge.

“Shh shhh,” he hushes your quaking, moving to one side of the table but placing a firm hand on your lumbar, your skin dewy under the sequin dress gathered there. You stop moving but twist your neck to pout up at him, a trickle running down your inner thigh as you do.

A long, elegant pointer finger, scented heavily with your arousal, traces your chin and then lips.

“Don't pretend this isn’t exactly what you want,” Benedict withers, dripping with conceit.

“Please,” you mewl.

“Oh dear, you spoke before you came,” Benedict gloats. “No kiss for you, my girl.”

“I don’t care, just please let me come,” you plead, the cue a solid yoke across your back as you note Anthony, still idly pumping himself, in the periphery of your vision.

“How have you not married this one?” Benedict calls casually to Anthony, but he doesn’t turn to look at his older brother, his gaze holding yours blisteringly. “I would have her tied willingly to my bed all day.”

Your insides flip at the very thought.

“She’s too wild to be a Viscountess,” Anthony responds laconically, cock still in hand.

Benedict’s thumb rubs around your ear, almost petting you like a cat. And you lean into his touch, desperate to do anything that will compel him between your thighs again.

“Hmmm, true,” Benedict hums, and you cry out as his other hand slaps your bottom. “Luckily for me,” he crows victorious and rounds out of sight again.

You writhe in excitement as you hear the sound of a zipper being pulled down behind you, a thronging need to be thoroughly fucked.

Your eyes meet Anthony’s, and he twists his mouth into a bemused pout as you cry out with the force Benedict ploughs into you with one forceful thrust. He’s just as sizeable as you recall Anthony being: split open in just the same way, your channel clinging to him.

Benedict curses and holds still. “Exquisite…” he groans, then his hands roughly grasp the cue looped into the crook of your arms, and he immediately withdraws and snaps back in. Your whole body rolling with the force of it, your hips slamming into the wood edge of the table.

“Fuck her so hard she can’t walk,” Anthony growls through gritted teeth, making you tilt your head up to see him roughly tugging on his cock now.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Benedict grunts, spearing into you again, the smooth wood cue rolling over your skin as he uses it as leverage.

You cannot look away from the sight of Anthony’s cock, red and angry, leaking over his knuckles as he tugs himself almost violently. A vein in his neck pulsing in sync with his motions.

Benedict bears his weight onto you and changes angle, glancing that place deep inside that few are able to reach, but when they do, it has you babbling nonsense. Panting ragged, begging words you’d never admit to, if not strung out on a vicious tide of hormones

“What was that?” Benedict menaces, looming close to hear your hoarse, desperate words.

“Please make my pussy yours…” You repeat in a whisper, throwing your head back to look up at the underside of his string jaw, eyes rolling, tongue feeling thick in your mouth.

Benedict curses, and his hands grab the dip of your waist, clutching so strong you squeak, your forehead lolling back down onto the felt.

“I fucking will,” he growls, his chin pressing into a notch high on your spine. “Look at him while I destroy you…” he gruffs hotly into your skin. You do as commanded: tilting up to stare at Anthony as your body is slammed over and over, silently telegraphing that he now has to raise the bar next time he fucks you.

As if he picks up on your provocation, Anthony rapidly jumps to his feet, stalking up to you, his rigid cock bobbing out of his fly as he does, still otherwise fully clothed in shirt and trousers. He pulls up beside you, the hand that was wrapped around himself sliding into your hair and grasping, a touch rough.

“Release one of her hands,” Anthony barks. “One cock isn’t enough for this greedy slut…”

As with earlier in the car, that derogatory term - something you’d slap anyone for calling you usually - just rockets you higher in this context. Aglow with the idea you have both of them utterly feral for you now.

Benedict manhandles your arm that’s nearest his brother out from under the cue, and instantly Anthony grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock, his other hand still holding your hair, your cheekbone pressed into the green felt.

“We will all come together, do you hear me?” Anthony instructs in a non-negotiable tone.

“Yes sir…” you demure, loving the feel of his heated, girth pulse in your palm as you say it.

“Lord,” he clips, “you can call him Sir…” he nods towards Benedict, not looking away from you for a second.

“Yes, Lord,” you correct, tongue sliding into your cheek and defiantly cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Fucking brat,” Anthony scolds, but it's breathy and commendatory; a little groan as you squeeze him, a bead of precum wetting your thumb as you swipe his head.

One of Benedict’s hands releases its vice grip on your waist and slaps your buttcheek so acutely you stutter an involuntary moan, the wind knocked out of your lungs temporarily.

“I want to tame this one in a hundred ways…” he grits out.

“And she’d love every single one, wouldn’t you?” Anthony prompts, his eyes wordlessly ordering you to respond.

“I’d like that, sir,” you enthuse, craning to look back at Benedict even with Anthony’s grip on your scalp.

“Fucking hell…” Benedict gusts, his cock rippling in response to your words, and you can tell he is getting close, his punishing pace wavering a touch as he closes his eyes and tilts to look up at the ceiling, needing to look away to last a little longer, his strong neck bulging as he swallows heavily.

“Come inside me,” you incite, needing him in your thrall. For him to paw at your skin, leave finger marks on your hips, handprints on your bum.

He tilts to look down at you, eyes ablaze. “I will. And you will take it all,” he warns, low and savage.

You nod, and your hand squeezes around Anthony’s cock, jerking him roughly towards his peak too.

“Please give it to me,” you entreat to both of them, burying your face into the table, pushing your hips as much as you can into Benedict’s pelvis, a febrile quake in your entire being, so strung out and close to ecstasy for the second time tonight.

He is ruthless, almost brutal now, his steely tip glancing at your hilt with every deep thrust he takes, your toes lifting off the ground. Anthony’s hands slide to your shoulder blades and press your breast into the table harshly, nipples abraded by the sequins of your dress. Your mind supplies images of how things could be: you naked for days as they make you orgasm so often you feel detached from reality. Countless hours of visceral bliss, one debauched moment bleeding into another.

“Whatever you are thinking about, we need to hear it,” Benedict stutters out. “Your pussy is a fucking vice of fire right now… fuck!!” He exclaims, and you sense he is at the point of no return.

His thrusts become erratic, and he unhooks the billiards cue from around your remaining arm, tossing it aside and grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers with his and hovering over your back, hot mouth open on your neck as he almost howls. He suddenly stills, then pulses deep within you. A warmth coating your walls that sends you over the edge, following him, your hand spasming around Anthony’s cock in time with the ripples of your pussy, floating away blissfully just as Anthony yells out, an arc of cum shooting across the table, landing in a glistening steak across the green felt.

For a few beats, there is nothing but heavy breaths; Benedict slumped over you. Anthony bent forward over the table, grasping the edge.

“Fucking hell…” he stumbles out, both you and Benedict puffing in agreement.

You whimper as Benedict slides out of you, a slick of juices down your legs, your folds puffy and tender from his thorough treatment. A delicious ache you know you will still carry tomorrow.

“I guess you’ll need this rebaized…” Benedict remarks drolly, nodding to the table, and you all share a giggle.

Tenderly, they both help you back up to standing, rearranging your dress and righting their own clothing, then pulling you into a sandwiched embrace. Soothing hands run over your form, one brother kissing your cheek, the other your shoulder. The room bathed in the soft, warm glow of the Christmas tree, the scent of the spruce pine needles and smokey whiskey competing with the smell of sex lingering around you.

“Thank you for our most wondrous gift,” Benedict plaudits sweetly.

“I can’t think of a better present that simultaneously orgasms,” you admit wryly, snuggling into them, enjoying the way their chests vibrate against yours as they both laugh.

Anthony cups your face, drawing your attention to him wholly. “You will stay, won’t you? For Christmas Day?” His tone is so hopeful it melts something behind your ribs.

“Yes,” you confirm quietly.

“I know you and I may play-act as if we are foes, but you are quite the most captivating, singular woman I have met.” His sincere tone is laden with respect and admiration. “And I do believe my brother now feels the same.”

Benedict turns you around so you face him in the joint hug, “Like you wouldn’t believe...” he murmurs fervently, his hazy eyes shining.

“So I hope you don’t mind having two Bridgertons devoted to your pleasure,” Anthony breathes, nuzzling your hair as you finally kiss Benedict for the first time—a sweet denouement to this thrilling evening.

What a Merry Christmas indeed.

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict and Anthony taglist pt 1 : @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies

Lights divider by @/saradika [x]

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

Note

Had a dream where Vil was offered a position to be the potions professor (no clue what happened to Crewel) after graduation and it was a whole big thing when he decided to accept but we all knew it was just a thinly veiled excuse to keep him in the school and relevant to the gacha game. He even has a voice line joking to Yuu about how Yuu should work hard and maybe he'd taken them on as a Potions teaching assistant after graduation - foreshadowing the excuse that will be used to keep the player character in the school for the gacha game once the first years reach graduation too

When I woke up I was disoriented enough that I genuinely couldn't tell for a few minutes if the Vil -> potions prof pipeline was just smth the dream made up or if it was an actual recent Twst development that my brain added details to haha

But in relevancy to the above, do you think Twst is going to have a weird time loop going on forever until the lifespan of the game ends?

The characters have aged in the main storyline, which means at some point the third years will be nearing graduation but would they let that actually happen considering the logistics of how the Twst game is set up?

***SLAMS BIG MEATY CLAWS ONTO THE DESK*** This ask reminds me of a L*ona artist I enjoy, @_nantekottai! adhyodwawa I lovingly call them "Dorito-sensei" in my head because I have trouble remembering their actual Twitter handle (sorry...). Why "Dorito-sensei"? B-Because they have a tendency to draw L*ona with very broad shoulders and a small waist... They have an "if the NRC dorm leaders came back as teachers" AU that they've done a few comics for. I’m a HUGE fan of it 😤 and you should be too/j

Here are all the installments! (P.S. shoutout to @/curekibouka for helping me double check the teacher profiles ^^)

Riddle, Leona, Azul as teachers

Riddle: “Next, turn to page 128 of the textbook. The next part we read aloud will be on the test, so take notes.” Magic History professor. Exemplary teacher. Very nice to serious, good students. Definitely asks questions during class. Usually calm but gets mad at cheeky students and collars them. Supervises Equestrian Club.

Leona: “Teacher! There are students fighting in the cafeteria!” / “Leave’m alone, just let the idiots fight among themselves ‘til they’re done.” Ancient Curses professor. As long as you don’t go against the school rules, he’ll let anything slide. Surprisingly good at taking care of others. If you want to learn, he’ll teach you fairly. Supervises Magift/Spelldrive Club.

Azul: “Welcome, new students!/It’s nice to meet you, new students! I am your Alchemy instructor, Azul Ashengrotto. If you have any worries outside of class, such as in your daily lives, please feel free to come talk to me. I will offer a helping hand, just as the great Sea Witch would… fufufu.” Alchemy professor. Very kind despite being employed at NRC, so many freshmen fall for his scams. His desire to find people’s greatest weaknesses aside, he’s an excellent teacher. Supervises Board Game Club. Owns Mostro Lounge.

Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus as teachers

Kalim: “Let’s do an improv live for today’s class!” Musicology professor. Super energetic even in early morning classes. Frequently talks about Jamil; you end up learning about both music and Jamil in his classes. Supervises Light/Pop Music Club.

Vil: “Do you have any questions about the class?” Potionology professor. Beautiful. Every generation of Pomefiore students has a fan club for him, but every generation of Ignihyde students fears him. Also good at taking care of the students so he is popular with them (like Leona is). Supervises Film Research Club.

Idia: “Hey, prof!” / “Eh… me…?” No subject is listed. Mostly runs lessons remotely. The few times when he does show up on campus in-person, the students go nuts. “You’re a teacher, at least wear a suit.” — Riddle. “At least tie up your hair.” — Vil. Because Idia is too scared to disagree with either of them, he obeys. Advises Board Game Club. Feels like a completely different person when he plays with Azul.

Malleus: “Staying up so late again, child of man?” Subject is listed as ??? Always a wandering near Ramshackle at night. Students are scared of him, but he would gladly help with their studies if they asked. Supervises Gargoyle Studies Club (members: 0).

Azul's high school memories - Azul is asked about his time as a student. He recalls when Leona sanded his contracts, when he was kidnapped by S.T.Y.X., and when Malleus put him to sleep with disaster-level magic. His poor student can’t keep up with the insanity of his recollections.

Leona's mark (part 1) - a mob student asks Leona to doodle on their exam if they get a good grade (since their other teachers do this).

Staff meeting - due to reports of a strange light near Ramshackle at night, the teachers must take patrol shifts. Idia complains, Leona suggests the light is some troublesome student waving around a light stick. Idia is offended by the insinuation that he might be the guilty culprit. Kalim wants to see him with the light sticks. Riddle is mad they’re off-topic; Vil calms him. The truth is that Malleus is the source of the light. He wants to interact with students, but they run away from him.

Leona's mark (part 2) - mob student shares the doodle they got from Leona to others; the mobs are distracted by the thought of that doodle.

The reason why you were struggling to tell if your dream was real or not is because dreams are actually processed by the brain as though they were actual events that happened to us irl. Very interesting trivia!

I don't know if we can really accurately predict the future of Twst, but personally I wouldn't want a time loop. Setting aside me just not being a fan of that trope, I think it would be really pointless because it would regress the characters and/or keep them from further developing. That's never been what Twst has aimed for. We are meant to want to see these characters overcome their trauma and develop closer bonds with one another, not see them repeat the same mistakes over and over again. I also think that, with book 7 confirming the passage of time, Twst intends to slowly inch forward (recall that 7 books took us 5+ years to reach). They'll probably find some loopholes or ways to keep graduating characters around and/or introduce new characters into the main cast to keep it stacked. After all, events are always there to be non-canon to the main story and offer alternate paths. Yuu might honestly be trapped in Twisted Wonderland forever + take on a career as NRC staff or something just to keep them relevant in the narrative.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Riddle Rosehearts #Leona Kingscholar #Azul Ashengrotto #Malleus Draconia #Kalim Al-Asim #Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud #notes from the writing raven #question #Yuu #twst au #twisted wonderland au #teacher au #NOT L*ONA ROT

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welcometoassistantclub · 11 months ago

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🕯️Hostage of Darkness🕯️

REDRAW 2024 / 2021 / 2020

#wtac #welcome to assistant club #арт #original character #oc artwork #oc art #oc #digital artist #artists on tumblr #fanart #dark art #redraw #spooky art

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tabunierka · 10 months ago

Note

I also did these! Clotheswap sketches, between the two beanie boys :> (hope it's readable enough ^^')

(Sorry for the low quality and for dumping stuff into your askbox)

It's so cool! I love their interaction!✨ And this answer is in the style of Nicolas hehe. After many torn shirts in childhood and grandmother's reprimands, he began to treat clothes better and take care of them. Most of all, he likes to wear colored shirts with funny drawings!

(and I'm only glad if they send me something in the askbox! I never mind answering or chatting about anything!👀)

#Wtac #Welcome to Assistant Club

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sexysadie23 · 10 months ago

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The Old Boys Club | Rafe Cameron

Author’s Note: Hiii! This is depraved. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. You are responsible for your own media consumption. I was watching The Batman and I loved the aesthetic of The Iceberg Lounge so that was the inspiration, alongside a Selina Kyle-esque waitress. Please enjoy. A Part 2 is possible :)

Tags: innocent!reader x older!rafe, CEO!Rafe, sleazy!JJ, sleazy!Kelce, sleazy!Topper, naive!reader, smallchested!reader, wife!reader, pre-established relationship, daddy kink

Warnings : I mentioned reader having a small chest, Highly misogynistic behaviour, mentions of alcohol, drugs and sex, corruption kink, minor bondage, unwanted adultery ig??

The lights were red and flashing, one blink after the other, blinding you for a millisecond when the flits of darkness overcame the haze of smoke and ignorance. The warehouse-turned-nightclub had so many people in it, too many, that there was no room for air. Each one surrendering themselves to the night. To the shadows which protected their guilty pleasures with a vengeance, hiding them from the shame that came with exposure.

Smoking, drinking, alcohol, drugs, sex. It was all blurred together into one unfocused scene where bodies became one and nobody cared for anything. Looking around at the mass of bodies and addictions, you realised why they clutched to the latter. For without them, the room would be unbearable.

You’d never understood the experience. Going to night clubs and staying out all night had never been on your radar, especially not with your conservative mother. She liked you in your room, cozied up with a book and tea.

That was all you had ever known. And it was something you came to enjoy. In college you were never the wild party girl, always too uncertain to feel safe at the scene. The rules your mother had set clung to you like a vine.

But that’s what he liked about you most. He’d had his days of partying to the point where he couldn’t remember his own name. He’d slept with the drunk girls who he’d regret afterwards every time. He’d done every drug under the sun. So when Rafe Cameron saw you, the sheltered, naive little doe that didn’t speak until spoken to - he was dazzled by what he saw - an opportunity.

That was unknown to you though. Rafe Cameron came into your life like a wrecking ball. A tall, strong, successful and welcomed wrecking ball. One that had you kept, that protected you and never left you wanting. You were wholly fulfilled now that you had met your soulmate, who worked day and night to provide a lifestyle that according to him, was everything you could need.

He’d been at the office since the early hours of the morning, too early for you to cook his breakfast and kiss him goodbye. It was a Friday night though which meant that straight after work, he went to Interlude. A lounge and nightclub that housed the city’s most notorious mob bosses. You hadn’t, and didn’t expect to see him until the morning.

That’s why you were surprised that his assistant called you, mid baking cookies, informing you that your husband wanted you to pay him a visit at the lounge tonight.

The request was odd, truly out of character. Rafe had laid down some ground rules, guidelines as he dubbed them - which you willingly obliged, and one of them was no alcohol, no drugs and no clubs. You could go to parties as long as he was in attendance.

Was this a test? You wondered for a second. But another rule was to trust and listen to Rafe. You figured it was better to go and find out than not go at all. Besides, you missed him already and it had been less than 24 hours since he was inside of you.

You got changed from your nightie into something more appropriate for leaving the house. You dawned a casual pink sundress, and slipped a black bow around your hair. Rafe preferred you in the feminine, and you’d come to enjoy it. You looked at your walk in closet and saw only flats. Another rule: No heels whatsoever. (He liked how small you looked beside him). You brought a jacket just in case. Having never been to a club, you didn’t no if it would be cold or not.

Yet when you made the distance from Rafe’s private driver into the club, it was then that you could feel the heat which controlled the room. It seeped into your skin and your lungs and you then decided that bringing a coat was a bad idea.

The lights continued to blind you until you saw someone, a waitress who was wearing a pink wig and, well, barely anything else by the looks of her diamante bra and mini skirt - which was more like a belt. You all of a sudden felt ridiculous in your sundress and became aware of how every woman in here was wearing sultry fabrics barely concealing their skin. Whereas you looked like you were ready for a picnic. These were the women Rafe saw on a regular basis?

The waitress’s eyes flitted toward your lost looking figure - doe eyes taking up half your face as your expression gave away that you were both scared and lost. They’d eat you up if you didn’t find who you were looking for. Lord knows you weren’t here for fun, that much the waitress could tell.

You could see her bejewelled heels clacking in your direction and you looked up to meet her eyes.

“You lost sweetie?” She asked, cocking her hip against the empty tray she held. Up close, you could see her bra stuffed with wads of cash.

“Um- yeah. I’m looking for someone. Do you know a-“ though you were cut off as a bunch of rowdy men in suits shoved you as they made their way through. You shrunk in on yourself while the waitress glared at the men. She smoky gaze returned to you,

“Sorry sugar. Guys in here can get carried away. Who d’ya need?”

You exhaled slowly before speaking again. “I’m looking for a business man. My husband. Rafe? Rafe Cameron? He told me to - to come here but I’ve been looking for 30 minutes and can’t see him.”

At the mention of the name Rafe Cameron, the waitress’ eyes dawned a screen of something. Something intangible. Like she all of a sudden knew something. She looked you up and down once more and nodded.

“Yeah I know him. He’s like our most important customer. You won’t find him in here though.” She nodded smugly as she looked over the balcony into the crowd.

You looked with her, disappointed. “Oh. Well do-“ you increased your volume, speaking over the club anthems and tilted your head up as she crouched to hear you better, “-do you know where I could find him, please?”

The waitress smirked and rolled her eyes. Of course Rafe married the girl next door type. You seemed sickeningly sweet. “Sure sweets. He’s in Havoc.”

At your confused reaction, she elaborated. “You know, the club within the club? It’s downstairs. Through those doors. Password is ‘10th Circle’. Say you’re with Rafe, and they’ll take you to’m.” She points you to a set of steel doors lined with 2 bodyguards.

You thanked her as she sashayed away. You approached the doors and the bodyguards looked you up and down - and laughed to one another. “No way, baby. VIPs only.”

You just wanted to see your husband. “10th Circle. I’m with- I am Rafe Cameron’s wife. He invited me.” You say holding up your phone to show your screensaver of you and Rafe at your small, intimate wedding. “See?”

The guards looked at each other with suspicion. Having the password must be enough though, because they opened the doors without any qualms. You heard something just before the slam of the seal shut. “Did you know he was married?”

You went down the stairs which was less crowded, but more sinful already. On the stairwell you passed men wearing suits whispering in women’s ears. Women who were blackout drunk, or close to it. Women who were being handed hundreds of dollars wearing fur coats and nothing underneath. Some of which looked to be enjoying it and some of them scared. You immediately felt unsafe.

You were cautious as you walked through; shoulders hunched as you tried not bumping into anyone, making yourself as unnoticeable as possible. Your out of place attire made that somewhat difficult. But then you were grateful, because finally someone, the one, recognised you.

“Fuck, here she is- Baby! I’m here!” Your husband shouted from a secluded corner. He was surrounded by other men, one with a girl on their arms. You recognised a few of them as being his associates. Topper and Kelce and JJ in particular.

You could tell he wasn’t drunk thankfully. None of them were as they focused on playing their card games. “Hi.” You said, not raising your voice for anyone else to hear. The music was much less quiet than the chaos of upstairs, much to your gratitude.

He grinned, pulling you towards his seated form, in between his manspread. “There you are, bunny. What took you so long?” You took his hand to intertwine your fingers with his, having missed his touch.

“Got lost, I thought you were upstairs but a nice lady helped me.” You said, basking in your husband’s gaze. “Aw honey. You hear that fellas? Lil bunny here got lost tryna’ find me.”

His friends laughed as they sifted through their cards. One sitting beside Rafe, JJ, looked up and took out his cigarette- effectively blowing it in your face. “Poor girl. You miss your husband, doll?”

Rafe barked out a laugh but you were distracted by lightly coughing out the smoke directed into your airways. “Of course she did man, can’t go more than a few hours without rubbing up on me. It’s like she’s an addict or something.”

You frowned once more. Why was he acting like this? Sure he’s usually controlling and has a more…masculine sense of humour. You usually didn’t mind, yet now you felt like everyone knew something you didn’t. But you supposed he wasn’t wrong. You weren’t ashamed to say that you loved your husband, that you needed him.

“Huh Bunny baby? You miss me? Who’d you miss?” His friends laughed a chorus of stifled chitters and some even “oohed”. Rafe squeezed your thigh, and you knew what he wanted.

“I missed you…” you looked around at his friends who waited for you avidly. Patiently. You felt like a fish in a fish-tank. “Daddy.” The private nickname had officially made its debut. You were embarrassed, but also more embarrassed by JJ who was now staring at your tits.

Rafe grinned which made you breathe a little lighter, your joints a little less coiled. He yanked you down to sit atop his leg, your own surrounding his right knee. His eyes flitted in amusement to his posse, “See that boys? Bet none of you got a bitch at home calling you that.”

“Nah, my girlfriend just told me the other day she doesn’t want kids. Like, what’s the point of us staying together then? Only thing a woman’s good for after all.” Said Kelce, with some large chested girl on his arm licking his ear. She laughed, along with Rafe and company, at his crude joke, which you found far from funny. “Well, maybe not the only thing,” he uttered before her hand gripped his knee.

“You gonna dump her then?” Asked Topper, Rafe’s CFO, who tilted his head as he assessed your legs. Your freshly shaved, shiny, short legs.

“Don’t know. She gives good head, so that’s definitely a factor. Maybe I should keep her around and until I try to find my future wife on the side, you know?” Kelce said taking a smoke of his cigarette. “What do you think?” He jutted his chin across the space to you.

In a weird synchronicity, everyone turned their heads to you, awaiting your input. There was a metaphysical spotlight on you and you tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand. He started to kiss up and down your ear, which was not helping how distracted you were.

“Um- maybe you could give her a chance? If you really like her enough to have her as your girlfriend it might be worth it to talk…with her.” You slowed, immediately regretting speaking at all as each man started to smirk and look at one another again.

“Jesus Rafe, where’d you even find this girl?She’s so…cute.” Settled Topper. You thought he was handsome, but nobody could compare to your husband. Rafe simply shrugged and chuckled in your ear before returning to his perusal. “Some dump she needed rescued from.”

Kelce sighed. “Why’d I even ask a chick? Not like they know anything. It’s either dumb, or dumber.”

You could hear Rafe huff out a laugh. “True. There’s nothing up here,” he tapped your temples, “except my name.”

You turned to ask him why he was acting like this. So not the sweet, protective Rafe you knew, “Raf-m!” Cut off, by Rafe shoving his tongue down your throat. You were stunned before you responded, avidly with passion.

At least one thing hadn’t changed about your husband, he still kissed you with the same enthusiasm. Perhaps, with even more than normal. When he eventually pulled away, you whined and your lips traced after him - uncaring of who was watching.

“That’s one way to shut em’ up when they get uppity. And that ain’t what you call me bun. How many times am I gonna have to remind you tonight? Cmon, use your head for once. Know it’s in there somewhere.” He held an intense eye contact with you.

“Give her a break, Cameron. She might need a minute.” Kelce slapped Topper’s shoulder as they both looked to you.

“Daddy…” You whined, then hid your face in your chest out of embarrassment. Rafe said that it wasn’t something you should call him in public, yet here he was. All gorgeous in his suit with his collar popped and tie loosened, commanding you as though you were in the bedroom back home.

The only indication that he was not mad at you was the pet names he bestowed upon you, ‘Bunny’ and ‘angel’ being your favourites. “Aw honey, Daddy’s just joking. Y’know you’re my best girl. Huh?” He felt you smile into his chest. “Huh?” He bounced his knee, digging into your pussy, and you nodded. You could feel your body clench.

“Rafe’s chick might have a point though Kelc. Maybe you should keep the broad around. She’ll probably change her mind about having kids.” Voiced JJ, whose eyes continually checked out your cleavage.

Rafe piped up as he massaged your scalp from the way you hid in his chest. “Yeah, girls hardly ever know what they want until we decide for them anyways. Plus, you’d have the kids and still get to keep the good head,”

“I mean look at Bunny here, she thought she was gonna be a nurse or something fore’ I came in. Only cost me two dozen or so grand to pay off her student debt and convince her to drop out n’ marry me.”

Every time Rafe brings that up you feel a sense of guilt. That was sooo much money. Maybe not to a multi-millionaire like him. But to small town you, it was everything. “Thank you, daddy.” In response, a kiss on the cheek.

Topper sat up, “Can you blame her? She’d be a good slutty nurse. Waiting on you hand and foot. There’s a halloween costume idea right there.”

Rafe turned to them, “As if she doesn’t already do that. Little girl knows where she belongs.” You didn’t have time to be confused as the sound and pain of Rafe roughly slapping your upper thigh sounded throughout the secluded corner. Your pussy wettened, and you wished you weren’t wearing thin underwear.

JJ, ever so wise with a big mouth JJ, had some advice. “Well the way I see it Kelce, you have options.”

“Uh-huh. And they are?”

“You could always switch out her birth control. Then she’s pregnant in no time and it won’t look like your fault, so she can’t be mad. Plus, chicks’ tits get bigger when pregnant. S’a win-win.” You couldn’t believe how awful the things that were coming out of these men’s mouths were. Were they always like this outside of work? Was Rafe like this outside of your marriage?

“You let your girl on birth control Kelc? Why?” Topper asked, genuinely perplexed at the notion of a woman controlling her own body.

“She had a whole bitchfit about it. Saying shit like how it helps her period pain and let’s her decide when she can have a baby or whatever. I don’t get it.”

They continued to drink and chat. “Hold on bunny baby,” Rafe shifted you side ways in his lap now so that your legs were fully facing JJ on his left. There wasn’t much room so JJ put your feet and calves atop his thigh, across his lap. You felt too shy to say no or remove them, and this genuinely was more comfortable.

Rafe noticed, but you didn’t, with all the shifting that your dress had twisted and was alarmingly close to revealing your underwear. You put your hands around Rafe’s neck and leaned in.

“Can I have a drink please? I’m thirsty.” You whispered in his ear. You were parched. Between the heat of the room and the heat building in your core you needed something to ground you.

Rafe smiled. “Sure. Hey,” he clicked his fingers at the girl on Kelce’s arm. “Double time. Vodka.” She left the area with haste.

“But Daddy- I wanted…you said I’m not allowed to dr-“

“Didn’t look like he asked for your two cents, princess.” Said Topper with a bored expression as he thumbed the neck of his beer bottle. You frowned. The blonde was usually nice to you at business events and in Rafe’s office.

“You speak when you’re spoken to around daddy’s friends Baby. Remember? Or do you need a reminder?”

Your eyes widened at the last time you were given a ‘reminder’. “N-no. I’m sorry I’ll just…”

Though his attention diverted from you as the shot was passed to your hand. “Now I know you’re just a girl, sweetheart. And you’ve never done a shot before so listen carefully. Can you do that for us?” Asked Kelce as JJ played with your socks. The condescension was not noticed by you.

You looked to Rafe, who nodded. So you turned your head to Kelce, careful not to spill the drink.

“Kay. So this stuff is really icky. You gotta drink it fast and swallow fast. You’ve had plenty of practice, so I’ve heard.”

You ignore the last comment and nod, looking at the clear liquid with determination. This is your chance to prove that you are a big girl and can handle things like alcohol. People always made fun of you for not drinking in college, so you needed the victory, even if just for yourself.

“Here, pretty baby. I’ll do one with you, okay? Ready? Go.” Your daddy said. Though you didn’t say it, you were grateful that he was supporting you.

To say the taste was awful was an understatement. It wasn’t so much the taste as the fumes that made your throat feel like it was on fire. You coughed, a lot. So much for proving you were a big girl and not some inexperienced baby unlike the rest of the sensual women around.

“Fuck, look at her. You alright dollface?” The insulting nickname flew over your head as you scrunched your eyes, though you could be sure it was JJ’s voice. He squeezed your ankle in a somewhat comforting gesture, but you could hear the guys and the girl laugh at how pathetic you were.

“Wh-why would you let me try that!” Tears dribbled down your face. The key word being “let”, as the guys noted.

Rafe growled, and laughed. “Don’t be such a fucking baby. In fact-“ he put his whiskey up to your pouty lips and made you drink it before you could protest. Again, disgusting. You sputtered some of it out and it dribbled down your chin and throat.

“Think she needs a bib boys?” Top jested, reaching over to chuck you under your chin. Other than Rafe, he seemed like the strictest of all. They each roared a laugh and you realised you were the butt of the joke. The punchline.

You continued to sniffle and leak some tears, looking around at what this truly was. You were an animal in the circus, simply there for entertainment. “Daddy, please…” you whined, tightening your hold on Rafe in the search of comfort.

“Don’t be sad sugar. If it’s any consolation, you’re even sexier when you cry.” Said JJ, as he took off your shoes one by one. He left on your white ankle socks, which he now noticed had love-hearts all over them.

You whimpered at the statement. Your throat felt raw and the wicked taste of mixing alcohols lingered in your mouth.

You were hyper aware of how wet you were in that moment, and couldn’t decide if you were whimpering out of pain, embarrassment or lust. You used your core to bounce on Rafe’s leg, enough to feel something yet too little for anyone to notice.

Rafe kissed your chin where the whiskey spilled. “That’s top shelf liquor you just wasted.” He licked your lip, groaning at the taste.

“S-sorry. Jus’ wasn’t expecting it. I’ve never really drank before.” You could feel your cheeks blush. Rafe loved PDA, and it had taken you a while to adjust to it.

“Hmm, you gonna make it up to me?” He teased. His hand travelled up to your braless chest and groped you, right in front of his friends. What the hell was happening.

“I don’t know,” said Kelce, looking at where Rafe’s hand was pressing your nipple. “I’m a fan of big tits. Not to the point where they look ridiculous, but definitely not as small as sweetheart, here.”

The guys all sounded as though they were heavily contemplating Kelce’s “insightful” comment and they turned to your chest, whereas you? You were just plain insecure now. You knew you didn’t have the largest bust, but was it really so much a factor?

“You’d be surprised,” said Topper. “Big tits can get in the way.” He scoffed, then returned to look at yours with a lustful eye.

“True,” JJ nodded, “plus small tits are just…I don’t know. They look more youthful. Perky, y’know? Definitely my preference.”

Rafe huffed out a laugh. “Me too, clearly.” You looked at him with a grimace, then down to your chest. “I have a theory that they’re more sensitive, though.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think that?” JJ had toyed with your socks to the point where he’d taken them off completely.

Rafe eyed him, then gazed at you intensely before devouring your mouth in a kiss. You were confused, was there some mental signal he just sent to his business partner? How did that suffice as an answ-

“MMph!” You squeaked into Rafe’s mouth as pain overcame you. Rafe just pinched your nipples, with as much force as his hands could. His strong, manly hands… You were positive that your underwear had gained a wet patch on it now. You were less embarrassed about that than as to why you felt turned on in the first place.

You withdrew from Rafe’s mouth to stare at him, eyebrows scrunched in a hurt expression. Why would he do that? You looked at his lips and suddenly became distracted again. With your low tolerance, the alcohol was seeping into your mind and your impulse control was going haywire.

So, you jumped his mouth. Your tongue swirled around his as you let out a soft moan. His hand moved to slide along your inner thigh, and you panicked, moving it away in front of your too-keen audience.

Rafe loved how eager you were sometimes. You fucked like a rabbit, and your nose twitched in your sleep. Hence the nickname.

“Please not-not in front of them!” You whispered.

“Don’t worry. All friends here.” Said Kelce. “Nothing we haven’t seen before,” seconded Topper, who gave you a crude wink. Kelce high fives him and you were confused as to what they were referring to. Though you didn’t get to focus on the thought as you felt heaving tapping on your cheek.

“What the fuck did I say about speaking when spoken too, huh baby? You too fucked dumb from last night to follow a simple instruction?” Rafe said, growing annoyed. Sure, you were embarrassed. But that was nowhere near as bad as stepping out of Rafe’s meticulously drawn line.

“I just- I don’t know why you’re doing this in front of them. Don’t they all have girlfriends?” You wondered. Topper was married. Kelce had a girlfriend. JJ was, well he definitely had a girl. It was just a different one every week.

Rafe kissed your forehead, and said in a voice that was too saccharine- “I do it,” another kiss, “because” and another “I can, sweetie.”

A laugh bubbled from your throat at you squirmed, feeling a feather light touch as JJ drew his finger nails from the soles of your feet to your leg. You kicked a little, and turned in shock at the sensation.

“Come to Papa J, dolly.” He ‘come hithered’ with his fingers. “S’okay. Right Rafe?”

You looked to your husband, wondering exactly what was going on. Rafe grinned with that glint in his eye. “She’s all yours Jayj, careful though.” He said cruelly, before widening his manspread with haste. Effectively, letting you fall through his lap straight onto the floor between his legs. You yelped at the sudden motion and the sudden pain blooming around your tailbone. You wanted to say something, but you hadn’t been spoken to.

You used Rafe’s knee to stand up, barefooted on the plush rug of the club within the club. Blood rushed to your head. How drunk were you? You were now aware of how short your dress was. You weren’t sure what to do now.

JJ’s eyes traversed your figure head to toe. From the bow in your hair to your white pedicure. He looked hungry, like he was on a hunt. Were you being hunted? Is that what this was? Poached even, willingly by your own husband?

You thought of your marriage, of all the times Rafe had been sweet and the times were he’d been, dark. Salaciously dark. You knew they’d passed around ‘girls’ in the past, but just in the sense of sharing strippers. You were his wife. And JJ was his friend. They all were. Regardless of these mindless facts, you now knew who they were. Sleazebag playboys that objectify women. That use them.

And Rafe, your protector, was just going to throw you into the lion’s den with one of them?

Unless…you realised, looking at Rafe as he nodded for you to go towards his business partner, that your husband was one of them. That this whole time, your marriage had been the lion’s den.

You just didn’t know it until tonight.

Author’s Note: Let me know what you thought of this!

#rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!jj maybank #jjmaybank x reader #topper thornton #kelce obx #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #depraved #misogynistic #misogyny!kink #sadiewrites #Old Boys Club

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another-lost-mc · 1 year ago

Text

When MC Needs Surgery

Featuring: The Demon Brothers, the Dateables (most briefly/vaguely mentioned) + gn!Reader

Content/Warnings: Mentions of unspecified health problems, surgical procedures and medical devices. Relationships with the cast are intended to be platonic but may be interpreted as romantic in nature (friendship was the focus here rather than romance). Word count: 3.2k.

A/N: This is dedicated to surgery!anon who requested something for their upcoming surgery. Based on the vague details mentioned to me, I assumed there might be some overlap with my own experiences which is what this is loosely based on. I guess I wrote what I would've liked to have read before my own procedures. I hope this provides some comfort to you as well.

PRE-OP

Some of the demons might wonder why they can't just find some spell to fix what's wrong with you, because how tricky can human anatomy really be? But after Satan does some research and helps you explain to the others (in easy to understand terms while being sensitive of the private details you might not want to share), they realize that perhaps your medical care is best left to the professionals after all.

Lucifer, Diavolo and Barbatos handle the logistics of your care before and after your surgery. Details from your appointments with your medical team help them get a better idea of how long your recovery will be and where you should stay once you leave the human world hospital.

There is some disagreement about whether you should stay at the House of Lamentation or the Demon Lord's Castle. There are pros and cons about staying at the House of Lamentation.

Pros: all of the demon brothers are there to help you when you need assistance.

Cons: all of the demon brothers are there.

One of the concerns – and it's a reasonable one, if you ask anyone but the brothers themselves – is that they might be too demanding of your company in your condition or inconsiderate of your privacy, and possibly neglectful of your need to rest comfortably and quietly.

As the other alternative available to you, the Demon Lord's Castle has spacious rooms so that you'll be able to have everything you need. Your friends are welcome to come and go within reason, but their visitations will be limited to prevent you from being overwhelmed. Ultimately, the choice is left to you.

When you start attending your pre-op appointments, Lucifer goes with you if you don't ask one of the others to go in his place. He's one of the best choices despite his unfamiliarity with the medical ordeal you're about to go through. He quickly picks up on the details of your procedure and the types of support you'll need during your hospital stay and once you're discharged. He helps you prepare a list of questions and concerns for each appointment; the doctors and nurses can't brush your questions aside easily, not when Lucifer is there to ensure that the answers you're given meet his satisfaction.

Later on, Lucifer provides updates to his siblings and your other friends who are keeping tabs on these developments. It's best that they're all aware of what to expect and so that they can help you prepare for what's to come.

In the days leading up to your surgery, everyone does their best to ease your nerves but do a poor job of hiding their own anxieties. It doesn't really register as a real thing that's about to happen until you get notification that your surgery is only a couple days away, and suddenly it feels very, very real.

Lucifer prepares for your long-term absence from RAD and makes sure that any of your obligations – your clubs or student council duties or your part-time job – are dealt with. He buys anything and everything the doctors recommended for your recovery once you return home. If any modifications are required for your bedroom or private bathroom, he plans to have those completed during your hospital stay. (He's grateful your room is already on the first floor of the house, although he would've built one for you if he needed to.)

Mammon and Levi spend as much time with you as they can when they're not busy with other things they try to keep secret: Mammon's new job so he has extra money to buy you get-well presents (bigger and better than all his brothers) and the games and movies Levi has been ordering since he anticipates your recovery will be boring. What better way than to pass the time (hopefully with him?). Satan wanted to go to your appointments with you but he kept grumbling things like, if someone cuts you open, I'm going to cut them open. He's been focusing his efforts on researching which sorts of potions, elixirs or spells might help you recover faster and obtaining the materials he needs for them.

Asmo took you shopping (more than once) to pick up the items on your pre-op checklist of things to bring with you to the hospital: comfortable loose-fitting clothing, slippers, basic toiletries like your toothbrush. Everything he picked for you wouldn't fit in three overnight bags, let alone the single duffel bag you planned to take with you. He just put everything in your dresser and closet and insisted they'd be useful once you were discharged and allowed to come back home.

Beel was curious about your diet recommendations when you come home and he realized that the spicy Devildom foods you like are probably going to be too difficult for you to eat for the foreseeable future . He spoke to Lucifer and Barbatos about his concerns, and they plan to stock the fridge and pantry with all the recommended foods that would ease your recovery and reduce the risk of complications later. Beel took you out for dinner one evening, as a sort of last hurrah. He felt guilty that he didn't realize how serious this was and he admires you for being so brave about something he can't imagine going through himself. He offered to follow your post-surgery diet with you as a show of support because he doesn't want to be insensitive and eat all the delicious foods you won't be able to.

Belphie gets a bit irritated that his brothers take up so much of your time leading up to your surgery date. If you've been feeling tired or unwell leading up to your surgery, you put on a brave face for their sakes but he knows better. He can't take away your pain or discomfort, and he certainly can't fix you the way these human world doctors claim they can, but he can help you relax after a long day of appointments and preparations and pretending you're not as nervous as they all are. He can sense your anxiety rising as the date of your surgery draws near: you're not sleeping as well as you used to, tossing and turning into the late hours of the night and showing up to breakfast looking worse than you did the morning before. Fortunately, that's something he can help you with. He leads you to the attic to sleep and tries not dwell on how long it'll be before after your surgery when you'll be able to climb those steps again. He lulls you into a comfortable, dreamless sleep so that you can as much rest as possible leading up to the big day.

The evening before your surgery, the brothers are practically vibrating from nervousness. Everyone seems on edge and distracted. Asmo ruins his eye makeup from getting teary-eyed and he's especially clingy. Dinner is awkward when the brothers remember that you can't eat your regular diet anymore. You're limited to bland fluids in addition to the jug of prep you need to drink. You drink the powder mixed with ice-cold water and gulp it down – after the first pouch, you disappear into your bedroom. Eventually you come back and rinse and repeat, drinking and refilling that jug until its as empty as you are. (Beel was curious and drank a bit of it despite your warning that he probably shouldn't – his stomach made the strangest sounds the rest of the evening.)

When it's time for bed, you expect to collapse onto your mattress and toss and turn until your early-morning alarm goes off. What you don't expect is for Lucifer and his brothers to lead to you his room with the giant bed that happens to be big enough for all of them. The mood feels somber and you can tell they're as nervous as you are – even Cerberus spends the night in Lucifer's room, lifting his heads up once in a while to check on you while he keeps guard at the foot of the bed. It's the Devildom's most awkward cuddle pile, but eventually you fall asleep surrounded by seven very worried demons who can't manage to sleep themselves.

THE HOSPITAL

Your alarm goes off early that morning – far too early for your liking, but you're eager to get this entire thing over with. Most of the brothers are already awake and finalizing preparations to accompany you to the hospital. You have time for a quick shower and toss on a comfortable shirt, sweatpants and slip-on shoes – you don't need to look good where you're going, and you won't be wearing these clothes for very long.

The others arrive so Barbatos can summon a portal for everyone to take. Despite your many reminders, everyone insists they want to come and support you, including your friends from Purgatory Hall and Diavolo himself.

(What you suspect but don't know for certain is that Diavolo arranged for your care in the human world hospital you'll be staying at. There were concerns about visitor limits and securing the largest and best private room for your recovery, but a generous donation from the Hotel Corvo corporation helped ease some of those administrative hurdles.)

You're only allowed one support person to accompany you to the surgical unit, so the others grab coffee and pre-packaged muffins and slowly make their way down to the waiting area. Lucifer – or whoever you asked to accompany you instead – sits with you while you wait for your name to be called.

Time passes in a blur. You put on a starchy hospital gown and housecoat while you tuck your belongings into a plastic bag and carry it with you. The nurses direct you to a chair and go over the standard medical questions you've answered a million times before. You look away when the IV goes in, and on the other side of you, warm fingers squeeze your hand.

You're tired and nervous and there are too many thoughts racing through your mind, but you sit in silence while the clock ticks down. You shuffle awkwardly down a sterile hall with too-bright lights when it's finally time, and you hope the smile you shoot over your shoulder at your companion is convincing. (It's as unsteady as you both feel when you disappear with the nurse who leads you to the operating room.)

Maybe it's the exhaustion or the empty, upset stomach distracting you while you sit on a table and ignore the cool fingers and pinching sensation in your back while they prepare the epidural because you barely feel it. You lay on a narrow table with a blood pressure cuff on one arm and your IV in another, and when the medications quickly pull you into a dreamless sleep, you feel a last-minute sense of comfort knowing that your friends are waiting close by and they won't let anything bad happen to you.

While you're in the OR, your friends make themselves comfortable in the visitor's lounge and they wait for news. Four hours, six hours, eight hours later – none of them want to leave until they can see you're alive and well with their own eyes. You warned them all it would be a long and boring day and they insisted they wanted to come no matter what.

Some of them fidget in their seats and pace when their nerves get the best of them. Levi's handheld beeps and the buttons click noisily as he plays his game, and Satan tries to focus on a paperback he picked up in the gift shop. Mammon spends way too much money buying Nevada tickets from a vendor in the hospital lobby (“It's for charity, ain't it?!”) and rubs it in Lucifer's face when he actually wins something. Asmo frets with embarrassment when he sees the SCENT-RESTRICTED FACILITY poster on the wall and covers the scent of his expensive fragrance with a dampening charm to avoid upsetting the staff (and makes note to skip the heavily-scented body products for future visits). Belphie accompanies Beel to sample the cafeteria's food, multiple times.

Throughout the day, small groups take turns leaving the waiting room to grab fresh cups of coffee or sandwiches to snack on. Diavolo and Barbatos confirm with the hospital staff that your private room is ready with the special amenities they requested for you, including a cot that an overnight guest can sleep on. You chose your preferred companion in advance, and none of the others dared voice their petty disappointment that they weren't chosen instead. What matters most is that one of them is with you at all times to assist you in your weakened state (they called it protecting you, but you tried to reassure them without success that they were being too dramatic). The others are free to visit as much as they like, as long as you're comfortable with it of course.

It feels like eternity before news reaches your friends as your surgery ends, and then another update a couple hours later when you're moved from PACU to your hospital room. The nurses have already gotten you settled into your accommodations by the time the first visitors hesitantly step inside to see you. Despite the preparations and expectations and warnings, they're still not prepared for the machine humming and beeping at your side as it pumps various medications through your IV. There's a remote looped around the bed by your arm that lets you administer more pain medication through your epidural.

It's gotten late and the surgical ward is quiet except for the ambient sounds of nurses chatting quietly at their station or other machines beeping in nearby rooms. Against the standard-issue hospital linens and the thin gown you wear, you look more vulnerable than they've ever seen you, their perfectly imperfect human who’s gone through so much in such a short amount of time. Perhaps it's a good thing that you're overcome with exhaustion and only have fleeting memories of your friends' worried faces when they each came to see you before bidding you goodnight with a promise to come back in the morning. Some struggle to contain their emotions more than others, and there's a collective understanding between all of them that perhaps they've taken you for granted because they never want to see you like this again – not if they can prevent it.

Your nighttime companion sits at your bedside most of the night and watches over you in case you show signs of discomfort or pain. They pull the cord to alert the nurses when you wake up queasy and you request something for your upset stomach with your scratchy voice and dry throat. You can't eat or drink yet, but the nurse leaves a small plastic cup of ice chips at your bedside – it's enough to remove the cottony feeling from your tongue and throat, and you can sleep once more.

Your demon friends aren't familiar with modern medicine and none of them know what the bags of fluids hanging next to your bed are. RINGERS scrolls across the screen of the IV pump but it’s anyone’s guess what it means. All they know is that it seems to be important as it’s one of the last medications you stop taking before your IV is eventually removed. Tonight and throughout the days that will soon follow, the machine beeps loudly – and often – when the bag runs dry. They remember which button to hit to turn off the awful alarm so that the disturbance doesn't wake you while they wait for a nurse to come with a replacement.

RECOVERY

The first few days are some of the most challenging, but all of your friends are there to support you as much as they can. At least one of them is present when the surgeon and his residents make their early morning rounds. You can't bear to look at the staples and incisions hidden under the thick dressings that cover a large part of your lower belly, but the surgeon and nurses all claim that things look fantastic. You can't help but snort at the odd feedback, and Asmo reminds you that there's plenty of creams that can help with minimizing those scars later, if you want them. (He prefers you exactly the way you are, scars and all, but he keeps his opinion on that subject to himself.)

Your post-surgery diet is severely restricted until you're able to tolerate basic fluids again, and solid foods are introduced slowly too. Beel reads over your daily menu selection and glares at the abysmal tray of hospital food that is delivered to your room. He tastes some of the dishes and wonders how they can make something as simple as broth or cream of wheat so unappealing. Barbatos sips the lukewarm mug of tea on your tray that you ignore with each meal; you warn him that it's not good, and the pain in your stomach is worth it when you shake with laughter at the offended grimace that sours his expression. He promises to bring you drinkable tea from now on, and he and Beel both bring acceptable alternatives to your hospital fare in accordance with your current meal plan.

One of the most challenging things you didn't expect – and it catches your friends off-guard too – is how difficult it is to get up and walking again. After a few days in bed with the epidural numbing you to the worst of the pain and being mostly stationary aside from some breathing exercises, it's time to get up and take the literal first step towards your journey home.

Your friends scoff at the idea of a physiotherapist coming to help you, until they hear the first cry of pain when you sit up on the edge of the bed and breathe heavily like it's the most ardious feat you've ever accomplished. It's another reminder that this was a tremendous thing for your delicate human body to go through, and even though they can't just take away your pain or fix things magically (no matter how much some of them might want to), they'll do what they can to help.

They don't tease you when they slip your shoes onto your feet, and they don't stare or ask about the various bags of fluids hanging from the IV pole you lean on for support while you shuffle your way around the ward one lap at a time. They match your pace and are ready in a moment's notice to support you if you lose your balance, and as soon as they sense you're pushing yourself just a little too hard, they help you back into bed where you fall asleep not long after.

Things carry on that way until the surgeon announces tentative plans for your release. By now, you're bored out of your mind and eager to be anywhere but in that bloody hospital room. Your friends are eager to have you home again, and the air is charged with excitement for the first time since your surgery. Everything you need for your recovery at the House of Lamentation – medications and supplies and your diet plan and anything else you could possibly need – are ready for you.

On the day you're finally discharged, they help scan your room to make sure all of your personal items have been packed away for the trip home. One of them carries your duffel bag for you while a couple others carry boxes filled with the numerous gifts, cards, and vases of flowers that filled nearly every available space of your room. (The human world flowers have started to wilt, but the arrangements from the Devildom and the Celestial Realm, including the bouquet you received one day with a note signed only with “M”, are still blooming flawlessly as ever.)

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kaiser1ns · 1 year ago

Text

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: you hated him from the moment he showed up at the bastard munchen tryouts — you can't stand him, it's impossible, or so you thought.

╹contents :: 8.9 k words aka word vomit, fluff and two kind of suggestive scenes,mostly pre-timeskip kaiser, reader is football fanatic, kaiser loves to annoy her(he is just in love with her), just one teenager denying their feelings while the other is clearly in love, mentions of her parents - to clarify they are not dead !, mentions of real players from the actual club bayern munchen, i don't know if I can put this in the slow burn section? she hates him but she loves him.

╹notes :: 100 followers special i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this, please spare me. sorry for any grammar mistakes, hope you enjoy! for my one and only, and big thanks to @kooriou 🤍

You hated Michael Kaiser from the first moment he stepped into Bastard München Academy, an instant wave of annoyance washed over you. His arrogance and presence got on your nerves, making it impossible to even look at him. But you had to — that was your job as a future assistant coach for the best team in Germany, and who knows maybe you can snatch your uncle's position as manager.

As the tryouts unfolded, you observed him closely, jotting down notes on his skills and trying to give him some initial stats, which to your dismay were either tier A or S. Despite the irritation, there was no point in lying, he was outstanding and he knew what he was doing - or rather, he knew what he wanted. You saw as he teamed up with the boy who wore the jersey with number 20. They made up a pretty good duo, and with Ness's passes and Kaiser's fast attacks, no one could stop them.

Perhaps beneath the thorny exterior, Michael Kaiser was the player Bastard München looked for—someone who could elevate them to new heights. As the final whistle blew, you already knew the outcome that they would both be accepted into the team, and you'd have to get used to seeing his face almost every day. You got up and walked over to your uncle as all the recruits were lined up, looking at them, as your eyes landed on the striker with with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue rose tattoo on his neck. You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows and with squinted eyes, a silent expression of displeasure etching across your face.

In that subtle gesture, frustration found a physical form; it was a language spoken without words, a non-verbal protest to whatever disturbance had disrupted your peace — and the one who caused it starred back at you, smirking smugly at you, but he turned back to listen to the coach's speech.

"And with that, we welcome you in Bastard Munchen. We hope you will meet and exceed our expectations, and now I will give the word to my niece Y/N who will also work with all of you youngsters." You were still lost in the staring contest with the boy who paid you no mind, and now everyone looked at you, some were getting scared seeing you so oppressed by something; were they that bad that the coach had to ask his niece about another opinion?

Your uncle cleared his throat, making you come back to the real world, a little taken back from the sudden shift of focus. "Ah, yes, of course." as you stood there with all of your glory and pride like you were the president and everyone waited for your long waited speech "As the future of Bastard Munchen, you will be the ones to continue the legacy set by the club's legendary players. Work hard so you can achieve your goals, as you should always believe in yourself. Make every impossibility a reality."

Your words echoed through the training grounds, making the boys happy to hear something from a beautiful girl - in one way or another, something had to keep them going. As you finished your speech, you caught his eye again, but this time, there was a glimmer of amusement. Was there anything wrong with the things you said? You tried your best to sound like every coach who talks to their team with all the "work hard and give your best shot" stuff. You hope you won't become like that in the future.

Your uncle nodded approvingly, signaling the end of the meeting. The boys started leaving one by one, but the blue-eyed genius stayed, approaching you with confidence.

”Impressive speech, Little Miss, but actions speak louder than words, don't they?" he remarked with a smirk, leaving you with a mix of irritation. You haven't even known each other for a day and you already want to gouge out his eyes. "Talk about yourself, Mister. Show results, and then talk to me again."

Kaiser chuckled, his smile growing wider as he came closer to you, rising a hand as he delicately slid his fingers under your chin, lifting it ever so slightly, your breath hitched from the sudden move.

"We share some similar goals, I will give you that. Be sure to watch me making the impossible your new reality." he walked away, leaving you standing there like a statue - a blushing statue at that.

You definitely hate him.

WEEK 2 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

In the following weeks, as training sessions progressed and the team started bonding, you couldn't deny that Michael's skills were exceptional. Despite his arrogant attitude, there was a reason why he wore that smug expression. The team was carried by his influence, and you found yourself unfortunately acknowledging his impact. Kaiser Impact, huh? That’s one way to call it.

He approached you, the smirk replaced by a genuine smile. "Not bad, right? I noticed the way you looked only at me," he said, as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure as you handed him a water bottle "Don't get too comfortable now. This doesn't mean you're off the hook. There's still a long way to go."

The blonde boy chuckled, seemingly unfazed, taking the bottle from your hand, making your fingers briefly touch as he kept eye contact. "I wouldn't want it any other way, Prinzessin. Now what are my stats? I’m sure they went higher." You shot him a skeptical glance, unimpressed by his playfulness. "Stats? Do you mean your nonexistence score? Like in a video game or something," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed at your comment. "Maybe not a game, but God's challenge, and I'm here to be the best of the best and eventually surpass Noel Noa," he replied with a cocky grin.

Rolling your eyes once more, you couldn't deny the feeling you had when talking back at him. "Fine, let's humor your challenge sent from above for a moment. Strength: still lacking, form: needs improvement, and humility: nonexistent," you assessed, ticking off imaginary boxes in the air. "But hey, you did manage to catch my attention for being the most annoying person I have ever met, so I'll give you that."

Kaiser raised his eyebrows, took a sip from the water bottle, and said, "Well, Prinzessin, catching your attention is just another bonus for me." You scoffed, "Smooth talker, aren't you? But like you said actions speak louder than words, so do me a favor and leave me alone, you are not the only one who has to work hard."

His eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he took a step closer, narrowing the distance between you. "Oh, I plan on proving myself in more ways than one. Consider this just the beginning." With that, he went back to the others, leaving you to wonder whether he was genuinely committed to improving or just enjoying getting under your skin.

Deciding to continue your work – which for now was to arrange the water and the towels ready for the players – paying no mind to the world around you, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, thinking it was Kaiser again, but it was your uncle - the head coach. His touch was firm yet comforting, a familiar presence amidst the chaos made by the young athletes.

You turned around, a mixture of surprise and relief coloring your expression. Your uncle, Franz Bauer, wore a knowing smile that hinted comfort “How are you doing so far, Y/N? Is something or rather someone bothering you?” He spoke in a low, reassuring tone. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, grateful for your uncle's concern, but you found it strange how he always knows and notices when you have trouble.

"I'm managing, Uncle Franz," you replied, a faint smile on your lips. "Just the usual, dealing with boys my age. Nothing that I can't handle."

His gaze held a depth of understanding, and as he nodded at you. "I appreciate the help. You know, you remind me of my younger self because I too was an errand kid."

He wanted something from you, and you knew it by the way he started to talk about how much you were like him as a child. He always does it. "Just get to the point. Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

Franz laughed slightly ”You do catch up quickly,” his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "I've been observing you, and I can't help but notice the way you look at the team, wanting to comment on the formations, the positions, and the players themselves. I've been thinking about expanding your role in the team, perhaps as an assistant coach."

The proposition caught you off guard, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Assistant coach? Uncle, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I have the experience for that."

He placed a hand on your shoulder again, a reassuring squeeze. "Well, you will be an assistant coach in training. Experience is gained through opportunities, Y/N. I see potential in you, a natural talent." your eyes widen suddenly “So, for the rest of the training session, you will be the boss.”

“But I-” he cut you off by standing behind you and pushing you forward “No objections, or I'll call your parents to pick you up. You don’t want that, right?” having no time to answer, you were next to the other coaching staff as your uncle gave a thumbs up from the benches with water and towels. That old bastard Well, you better be here training some naive and arrogant footballers, than being home studying economics.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the challenge, even if you didn't want to. As you stepped onto the field, the weight of the whistle in your hand felt foreign, yet empowering. The players eyed you curiously, some exchanging glances, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. Gathering the team you began to give orders. "You will go against the first team and clash with amazing players like Noel Noa, Thomas Muller, Manuel Neuer and Joshua Kimich. But let go of the thoughts about the big bad wolves chasing you - you shall become the chaser." Your uncle watched from the sidelines as if he knew something you didn't. "So for starters, we are changing the formation to 4-2-3-1 as Kaiser will be the top of the attack, Ness you will be the attacking midfielder so you gotta keep an eye on blondie over here, but also beware of your rivals. "

The players exchanged glances again, as Kaiser and Ness shared a look - shocked at your words. Is this even going to work? Is she for real? You took a moment to gauge their reactions before continuing. "Remember, this is a training session, and mistakes are welcomed. Now, destroy them."

As the training progressed, the intensity of the practice match increased, with each player giving their best to impress you. As the team executed the adjusted formation, you observed them. Kaiser made strategic moves upfront, Ness showcased skillful ball control, and the defense held its ground against the opponents.

In a surprising turn of events, the U-20 team began to dominate the match. GOAL, As you blew the final whistle after Kaiser scored the 5th and final goal of the game, ending practice. He looked at you, and again with that smile - full of self-confidence. You wanted to throw the whistle at his stupid-looking face. The sidelines erupted in cheers from the staff as your uncle gave you an approving nod, acknowledging the success of your "coaching debut", approaching you with a proud smile. "See, Y/N? You have it in you. You made them believe in the impossible about beating the old dogs, and they did it."

After the game, the players gathered around for a brief post-match discussion. The atmosphere was a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Kaiser, still riding the high of his decisive goal, approached you with a smirk.

"Well, well, well, Y/N. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd make me the star of the show," he said putting his arm on your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let his teasing get to you. "This was just a practice match. Let's see if you can replicate this performance in a real game."

He chuckled, "Oh, I plan on it. Just watch, Y/N."

Ness, who had been listening to the conversation, chimed in, "I have to admit, I didn't think this would work, but it did. Maybe you're not as clueless as I thought."

You shot him a glare, "Yeah, thanks Ness." The purple-haired grinned, "No problem. Just keeping you on your toes."

As the midfielder went away, sensing that his partner wanted alone time with you, Kaiser lingered for a moment, a more genuine expression on his face. "You know, Y/N, for a moment there, I almost thought you enjoyed it. Admit it being in charge, making your own choices..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Kaiser. This was just one game. We'll see how things go in an actual game."

Kaiser looked at you, his grip tightening. "Fair enough. But, if you ever need to test some tactics, you know where to find me~."

You scoffed, removing his hand from your shoulder, "I'm not going to Hell, thank you." he continued to look at you in a way unknown to you, making you feel kinda strange "Well, maybe just a quick visit. You might find it surprisingly pleasant." You rolled your eyes again, but there was something in your chest that you were very unfamiliar with. "I'll consider it, but this doesn't mean I like you or anything."

The boy chuckled, a teasing sound coming from his lips. "Oh, I'm not expecting you to confess your undying love for me just yet, Y/N. But I have to admit, that was flattering." You shot him a skeptical look, feeling a little hot for some unknown reason. Are you getting sick? No, that shouldn’t be it, maybe is the adrenaline, yeah that’s it.

"Is that your idea of a compliment?" He shrugged, noticing how your checks started to turn red "Take it however you want. Just remember, I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves the impossible of winning you over, Erdbeere(Strawberry)."

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected nickname, playing on your face. "Erdbeere? Really?"

Kaiser grinned, undeterred by your reaction. "It suits you. Sweet, but with a bit of a bite. Plus, it's fun to see that tough exterior of yours crack a little."

You sighed, realizing that arguing with him would only fuel his teasing. "Whatever. Just focus on keeping up with the same performance as today"

He winked playfully, "Oh, I'll keep up, Erdbeere. Count on it."

as Kaiser turned to leave, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. The teasing smile on his face softened, revealing a hint of something more genuine. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said, his tone unexpectedly earnest.

You watched him go, and as the distance between you and him grew, you felt something. It was a feeling you couldn't quite describe, leaving you to question it.

Alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the conversation and the teasing remarks in your mind. Kaiser's parting words echoed, and the unexpected nickname he made up for you.

"Erdbeere," you whispered to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you liked the sound of it - just maybe, you will let it slide this time.

WEEK 4 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

After the whole fiasco with the practice match and the “Strawberry incident”, as you liked to call it, the work in the facility was getting harder - running left and right to do tasks, printing documents, ordering equipment, dealing with the teasing remarks of this annoyingly tall boy with long gold locks and light blue eyes deep as the ocean you will let him drown. If he was on fire and you had a bottle of water - you'd drink it in front of him. Yet, amid the chaos, Michael Kaiser always managed to appear, like a haunting ghost, ready to jumpscare you in the most unexpected time.

One day, rushing to deliver some documents to the medical unit, he appeared beside you. His smirk was infuriatingly present, and his voice dripped with playful arrogance.

"Running again, Y/N? You should consider joining the team as a midfielder with all that sprinting you're doing." You shot him a warning look "Maybe if you spent less time making comments and more time working, we'd get things done faster."

Kaiser chuckled, unbothered. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'm just trying to lighten the mood, you are always so stressed."

"Your idea of 'fun' is questionable." you said, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach that his teasing somehow managed to evoke.

As you reached the department of the medical unit, you thought you finally got rid of him. However, fate had other plans. On your way back, he appeared again, blocking your way. His tall frame casted a shadow over you, and his mischievous smile widened.

"Michael, move." you demanded with the use of his first name, trying to sound stern, but he merely leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"What's the rush, Y/N? Can't I talk to my amazing assistant coach?" he retorted, his eyes never leaving yours.

Annoyed, you attempted to sidestep him, but he effortlessly mirrored your movements. It became a silent dance, a game of cat and mouse in the narrow corridor. Every step you took, he countered, maintaining his blockade.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just for me?" he teased, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Seriously, Kaiser, this isn't funny," you protested, feeling the irritation building up.

But he remained still, his teasing facade never fading. "Come on, now, Don't lie to yourself, you secretly enjoy our little meetings. The way your eyes light up when you see me says it all."

You scoffed, sticking out your tongue, "In your dreams." Deciding you'd had enough, you abruptly turned on your heel and started walking in the opposite direction. To your dismay, he followed, like a persistent shadow. The facility's corridors echoed with the sound of your hurried footsteps and his leisurely ones behind you until the two of you found yourselves in an empty, dimly lit room.

"Honestly what's your deal? Are you stalking me now? You like stalking girls? That's disgusting." you accused, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, leaning his back to the wall once again, while you were in the center of the room. "Stalking is such a harsh word. Let's call it... coincidental alignment of paths."

You groaned, turning to leave. However, in your haste, you tripped over your own feet and stumbled forward. In a split second, Kaiser went off the wall as he reached out his hands attempting to catch you mid-fall. Despite his efforts, fate had its way again, and you both fell, as you landed on top of him. Your arms were at the sides of his head, and your legs wrapped around his torso.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, your eyes widened in surprise, your face millimeters from his, your lips slightly parting as you felt your whole body burning as your heart raced to the rhythm of an unspoken melody. Seeing his features closer, he was beautiful, and now you are the one drowning in the deep blue ocean that his eyes painted. You didn't know what was going on — you didn't know what emotions you were going through, as Kaiser's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, an unfamiliar but very welcomed warmth spread over your body.

"I-I didn't mean to—this wasn't what I—"

"I've heard of falling for someone, but this is taking it quite literally," He teased, breaking the silence with his flirting, snapping you out of your trance.

You struggled to maintain your composure as you shuttered, attempting to push yourself off him. "G-get off me," your heart continued its upbeat dance, and you couldn't shake off the vivid image of his blue eyes that seemed to have cast a spell on you.

"Technically, you are on top of me, Prinzessin" blushing furiously as Kaiser's teasing smirk only fueled your embarrassment, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole. The room felt like it had turned into a sauna, the tension thick enough to be cut off with a knife.

Just as the bickering reached its peak, the door swung open, and Ness, the ever-curious magician, stood in the doorway. His eyes widened at the scene before him, feeling a little confused at the sight.

"Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?" Ness quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Y/N and Kaiser. The two of you exchanged a quick, panicked glance, unsure of how to respond. "Yes/No!," Kaiser and you blurted out, your faces turning even redder. Kaiser, unfazed by the interruption, grinned, while you desperately tried to stay calm as possible.

Ness raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. "Really? Because it looks like I walked in on a very romantic moment of your little play. Do I need to put on some slowed music?" He walked into the room, closing the door behind him as he continued to stare at the two of you. "I had no idea I was walking into a romantic drama." You shot a glare at Kaiser, who only winked in response. Trying to divert the attention, you stammered, "N-no, Ness, it's not what you think. We were just..." Your voice trailed off as you struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

He, on the other hand, couldn't resist. "Well, it depends on your definition of interrupting." Ness chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to your... whatever this is." The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by your attempts to get up from Kaiser. "We were just, uh, having a disagreement," you finally managed to say, avoiding eye contact with both Ness and Kaiser.

Kaiser, ever the charmer, grinned at Ness. "Disagreements can be quite physical, apparently." Ness shook his head, still grinning. "Well, carry on, then. I'll just pretend I didn't see anything." As he left the room, he couldn't resist adding, "But next time, maybe lock the door." As the door closed behind Ness, you let out a breath you didn't realize were holding. Kaiser, however, couldn't help but laugh. "Quite the entrance, huh? Maybe we should argue more often."

Rolling your eyes at Kaiser's comment, you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp as you stood up in the fastest way possible, and he also rose from the ground. "Arguing more often? I think once is more than enough," you retorted, shooting him a disapproving look. Kaiser, still grinning, stretched lazily and got up from the floor. Ness's interruption had shifted the atmosphere in the room, and you couldn't shake off the embarrassment that lingered. "Thanks a lot for that," you muttered, shooting Kaiser another glare.

Seemingly unbothered, he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Me? I didn't do anything. Ness just has unpredictable timing." He winked again, causing you to shake your head in disbelief. "Unpredictable timing, my foot. When will you stop with all of this? I can’t even have one peaceful day without you talking to me and saying all these things that you probably don’t even mean. Does it feel nice to play with someone’s feelings?"

Kaiser's smile faltered for a moment, his lively expression fading away as he saw yours. "Maybe I overdo it sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to believe his sincerity or dismiss it as another one of his tricks. "Actions speak louder than words, Kaiser. If you genuinely care, maybe try showing it in a way that doesn't involve constant teasing and sarcasm."

The tension between you and him lingered as you both stared into each other's eyes trying to find answers locked in the depth of your souls. Finally, you decided it was time to leave "I'm going to go find Ness and make sure he doesn't go spreading any rumors," you announced, turning to leave the room. As you walked away, your mind was a swirling mess of emotions—something you couldn’t tell. He was still vivid in your thoughts, causing a knot to tighten in your stomach. As you looked behind, he was still there dusting off his clothes.

You furrowed your brows, awaiting the unknown territory of your own feelings. The warmth creeping into your cheeks and the soft tears started to paint over your face like rain. It was an unfamiliar sense, leaving you questioning the source. Was it just fire or something deeper that can get you burned?

1 WEEK LATER:

As the days passed, you found yourself avoiding him, unsure of what to think or feel. Everything was so messed up, that you barely slept or ate - when you were not helping your uncle in the faculty, you were at school, where suddenly your grades dropped, and you made excuses for your teachers and friends that you were busy with work - which is partly not a lie but not the whole truth either. Everyone sensed that something was troubling you, even so, you'd rather not tell a single living soul about it all. You couldn't escape the memories of that day, replaying the moment in your mind like a broken record.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize that someone was next to you as you continued to pour water into the already full bottle that was overflowing over the sink until the person in question shook you by the shoulders. Without much reaction you turned around, your gaze clearly showing the sadness and lifelessness all over your face, you were tired of thinking about him. Your focus returned, the person in front of you was your uncle who was visibly worried about you. "What's going on, my dear? You know you can share everything with your old man" he said, the pain in his eyes to see his niece so down for the past week “It’s nothing … I am just trying to manage school and work.” Another lie left your lips.

Uncle Franz placed a gentle smile on his face. "I've known you since you were a kid. I can see through that facade. Something's eating you inside, and it's more than just school and work. Talk to me." You sighed, the weight of the past week bearing down on you. "It's just complicated, Uncle. I don't know how to put it into words."

He guided you to sit down at the bench near the sink, "Try me. I might be old, but I've been around the block a few times. I am sure it’s a boy problem. Because your mother was the same when she met your dad.”

How does he know it’s about a boy? Honestly, that was shocking to hear. Does he know about the strange situationship between you and Kaiser? Well, you hope he doesn't. Taking a deep breath, you began, "There's this boy, that I met not long ago, and let's say some things happened, and now I'm stuck in this mess. I can't escape it, and it's tearing me apart."

Your uncle listened intently, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Love can be a tricky thing, my dear. But keeping it all bottled up inside won't help. Who is this guy, and what happened?" Is that what they call love? Feeling this way because it's terrible not knowing what you want from yourself—you hesitated to answer, unsure if you want to share the details. "It's just someone, not a big deal."

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Your eyes widened upon your uncle’s question, and your eyes started to water, as you tried your best not to cry again. Starting to have a thing for someone is a hell of a ride, so you are going to play dumb "I don't know a person by that name." Not that dumb.

Uncle Franz leaned back. "You can deny it all you want, my dear, but your eyes just told me everything I needed to know." Feeling a mix of embarrassment, you laughed nervously, “I think you should go and get your eyes checked, you are starting to see things.” he looked at you with raised eyebrows, apparently he didn't believe you - no one would in those circumstances.

"Okay, maybe it is Michael. But it's complicated. He's so confusing, and I don't even know what he wants."

Uncle Franz patted your head ruffling your hair, "You don't know because you haven't tried talking to him. You should not be scared; just do what your heart wants.” and maybe he was right, he was always right. You just smiled at him, whipping your tears, letting him know you would try - someday eventually. “But if he hurts you one more time, we will have serious problems.” You laughed nervously, should you be scared or just revealed - guess there's one way to find out.

He stood up from the bench looking at you once more "Now cheer up and come with me, there is something I need to tell everyone on the team” and you also went with him, going into the field where they practiced.

A whistle signaled it was time for a break. Everyone gathered around the benches as you stayed closely behind your uncle, who clapped his hands, turning everyone's attention onto him, except for the boy with the blond hair who was looking at you. He took a good look at you - first at your lips, which were stuck together like a solid line, then your eyes, they shimmered with traces of sadness, yet beneath the surface, something else lingered, revealing your soul. Each glance reflected the emotions within your heart. Have you been crying? Is it because of me? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably the reason for your sorrow. As the others chatted, he found himself unable to look away, his attention remained fixed on you, trying to ignore the questions swirling in his mind.

“Even if it’s a friendly game with Dortmund’s U-20, we should give our best, okay? Make sure to get enough sleep and don’t skip your meals, it’s important to have your body and mind in top shape.” your uncle's voice spoke once more as the rest of the team could be heard agreeing on the upcoming friendly game with the club's biggest rival “And Kaiser you better be excellent, no missing targets, no missing shots, no mistakes. I want you to be focused next week, on the maximum output, got it?” then the coach addressed him specifically, and for the first time, Kaiser was somewhat frightened by his look, which held something very personal against him. “Yes, sir. I will do my best” he replied, masking his uneasiness with confidence. “Good, now the training is over. You can go to your dorms and rest.”

And with that, everyone scattered, leaving just the two of you, feeling his gaze still lingering on. His blue eyes seemed to be looking into your soul, he knew what was wrong with you and that he was the reason behind it all. He wanted to apologize to you, he really did, but something was stopping him and he didn't know what exactly. Come on, say something. Alas nothing came out from his mouth, and you just turned and left without saying a word, even if you wanted to talk to him too — you didn't, leaving him with his feeling of guilt.

A FEW DAYS LATER:

The day for the team to leave for Dortmund came, as there were no problems with the flight, but now you were at the hotel, where a big misunderstanding occurred. Being part of the female staff, you had to share a room with one of them, but the hotel receptionist thought you were part of the boy’s team, being a teenager. While everyone was settled, you stayed in the lobby as your uncle talked with the hotel staff, and Ness and Kaiser stood across from you on the sofa. The two of them were talking, and you were lost in thoughts about whether a room would be found for you.

Your uncle returned from the reception "The problem is solved," he said as you were more than happy to go to your room and enjoy some alone time, "But you will have a room tomorrow, because some of the guests will be leaving then," and your smile faded away, faster than it appeared.

At that moment, Ness nudged Kaiser's shoulder signaling him to act, "I can share my room with you." the striker offered, the keys hanging from his hand with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes widened when you heard the offer. “Absolutely no-”

"Fine, but no funny business." your uncle cut you off, as you looked at him with the most shocked face, your gaze met Kaiser's who had been staring at you this whole time. They can't be serious, you thought, Uncle Franz can't be serious. You mentally facepalmed yourself, having enough headaches, this was just the icing on the cake.

Of all people of course it was him. What did you do in your past life to end up in such situations? Did you murder someone, poison a royalty, or haven’t paid your debt — well you sure are paying it now.

You got up and took the keys from his hand, eyeing him suspiciously, as you got your luggage and went to the elevator before telling him not to bother you. Well, that wasn't the conversation Kaiser hoped to have with you, but it's still something. He turned to look at your uncle, now that you were not here. “Coach, are you sure this is going to work?”

Franz chuckled, patting Kaiser on the shoulder. "Sometimes, putting people in unexpected situations helps them see things differently. Who knows, maybe sharing a room will sort the things between you two."

The boy sighed, unsure about how this would play out, as Ness patted him on the back "I just hope she doesn't make this more difficult than it already is."

“And I hope you won’t do anything more than talking. Like I said earlier, no funny business.” Kaiser just nodded “I promise."

Meanwhile, you were in the elevator, still processing the fact that you had to share a room with Kaiser, good thing you won’t sleep on the same bed. As the elevator arrived at your floor you took a deep breath and walked down the corridor, finding the room that matched the key. Opening the door, you were greeted with a very beautiful interior, a nice view of the lively night in Dortmund and ... one bed. Great, things can’t get any worse, can they?

Placing your suitcase by the bed, opening it and pulling out your pajamas. You started to undress when you heard the door open, seeing wisps of blonde hair. Panicking you raised your voice to him not to enter the room as you were still in your underwear. God, how many awkward situations are there to overcome.

Kaiser froze at the door, his hand still on the handle, as he realized the awkward situation he had just walked into. "Sorry" he quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't know you were... I'll just wait outside.” He said, closing the tiny gap he left open.

You put on your pajamas faster than Usain Bolt can run. Once you were ready you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you went to open the door to let him enter. It was his room after all, you can't keep him outside even if you wanted to.

As you opened the door, Kaiser stood there, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, so were yours "I'm sorry about that," he apologized again "I should have knocked, or... I don't know, you should have locked the door. You know, it could have been some stranger.”

Well he was right, you should have locked the door and kept him outside to sleep on the carpet in the hallway. You didn't say anything, you just went and sat on the bed picking up the phone to check the time [22:22] well better make a wish. You ignored him as he sat on the other side of the bed so you were back to back.

Kaiser cleared his throat, breaking the silence, “I brought you this” he said, handing you a bar of chocolate, still faced with his back. As you took the chocolate you couldn't help but notice the warmth that was forming in your heart, despite the awkwardness. "Thanks," you muttered, feeling a bit guilty for your initial reaction earlier "I'm sorry too," you finally spoke up, turning slightly to face him. "I didn't mean to be rude to you. Well, maybe I did because you deserved it.”

He turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. "It's alright,Y/N” he said softly, turning around as his eyes met yours. You agreed, offering him a smile too. "So, uh, I'll just go get changed in the bathroom, and then we can go to sleep." You nodded your head again watching as he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, you let out a big sigh, silence enveloping you again. You decided to start making the bed while he was getting changed. Putting the extra pillows between the mattress, marking the ‘territory’ as you lay down and curled up under the covers of your part.

You heard the door open and then his footsteps approaching, looking up from the barricade he wore a plain white shirt that was more loose, revealing more of his blue rose tattoo, it was a beautiful design you can't lie, and a pair of black shorts. He too looked at the pillowed wall, then at you with raised brows. “If you don't want to share a bed, I can sleep on the couch.”

“Not that I don't want to, but the couch is too small and neither you nor I can sleep comfortably on it. So that's why I put pillows in the middle, you have your part, and I have mine.” you explained, leaving him a little bit hurt because of this separation, but whatever you are comfortable with, of course. “Well, sure”

He got under his covers, trying to get cozy but the wall next to him was something he wanted to remove. How much longer are you going to hide from him? Did you hate him so much that you didn't want to see him, in the room where you both were? Guess he will talk to you tomorrow.

No, fuck that. He isn't a scaredy cat anymore, he is not the mentally weak person who constantly gave up on things he believed to be impossible. Because the chance to make it up with you is now — it's not tomorrow, it's not the next day, week, month or year. It's now.

He sat up and removed the one pillow that was separating you from seeing your faces. Catching you, closing your eyes, observing your expression how you tried to keep this innocent sleeping face, and how your chest raised with every breath. You were a good assistant and 'architect', but not a good actress.

“Y/N, I know you are not sleeping,” he whispered your name, his voice soft and full of emotion. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, well he got you no point of pretending now. “Let's discuss everything that has happened so far. We are all alone here, no one to interrupt us.”

You sat up too,leaning back on the wooden frame, hugging your knees beneath the fluffy cover. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and warm. He noticed your nervousness, and he reassured you, with a smile "It's okay, You can tell me anything." His voice was soothing, making you calm down.

You took a deep breath, struggling to form the words you had been holding back for so long. Your heart raced as you finally found the courage to speak, “I... I've been wanting to say... that I... I..." your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you fought against your fear, this was meant to be an easy task, just to talk it out and end of story. But love is no easy task, it's a challenge that you either take and win or leave with the feeling of despair after the loss. You met his gaze, seeing nothing but love reflected back at you.

“I like you,” you finally confessed “And I didn't know what to do after all the bickering we had, you left me questioning my entire existence. Making me feel all giddy and nervous, making me confused about your own intentions.” you felt a weight lift off your chest, he listened absorbing every word you uttered.

The soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a weight of sincerity that warmed your heart. "More than you can imagine."

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort he offered. "I'm sorry for everything," he murmured, his gaze filled with remorse and affection. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how to approach you properly, and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to have eyes only for me and no one else, to think only of me. The only impossible challenge was to make you fall in love with me, but I don’t think I have to worry anymore ."

You shook your head gently, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand. You hesitated when your lips brushed against his own. You froze. What were you doing, kissing Michael Kaiser? You weren’t even sure if all the hatred you used to hold for him was now gone. He breathed in deeply. “Can I?" You took a moment of thought before you nodded, his hands now cupping your cheeks. His hands were so gentle, but the way he kissed you was not so much. It was like he was starving for you, the kiss sloppy, his tongue licking your lips, trying to taste all of you.

By the time he stopped, you forgot how to breathe, taking in a deep breath, and so did he. Despite how hot and hungry that kiss was—perhaps even able to fulfill a person's hunger for another—he was still starved for more. His lips brushed against yours once more, this time, there was no hesitation on your part. You leaned into the kiss, letting yourself get lost as you felt him smile.

His hands trailed down your arms as they settled on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's embrace. As the kiss deepened, passion flared between you, igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize the taste of you.

Time seemed not to exist anymore, as all that mattered was the feel of Kaiserl's lips against yours and the way his touch set your skin ablaze with desire. When the kiss finally ended, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. And as you stared into each other's eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul, you knew one thing for sure — he will forever be yours, and you will be forever his.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, making you arise from your deep slumber, slowly opening your eyes, trying to remember where you were. You had a very strange dream where you got to share a room with Kaiser and you two kissed. It was a nice dream indeed but things like this happened only in the romantic movies.

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but something stopped you from standing up. Confusion was encountered because why was there anything stopping you from getting up. As you took in your surroundings, the details of the dream flooded back to you—the shared room, the confession, and most importantly the unexpected kiss. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you questioning whether was it really a dream. Looking down to see the force that kept you in a place came not from anyone - but from Kaiser himself. Wait a damn minute, Kaiser!?, you thought to yourself panicking in the process.

Reaching out and touching Kaiser's shoulder, half expecting him to vanish like a fragment of your imagination, but be was very much real , as his soft breathing and light snores reassured you that he was peacefully asleep. He turned around, pulling you down again, your back leaning against his chest, as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you like a comforting blanket. It wasn't a dream. You were indeed lying beside Michael Kaiser.

Wait, so the kiss is real? No, it can't be... right? A million questions ran through your head as you felt him rest his head on the crook of your neck. You suddenly went numb, but tried to see his face one more time, and to your suprise he blinked, trying to open his eyes, with a smile so angelic, for a person with such devilish persona.

"Good morning, Meine Liebe" he said, his voice husky and raspy. You couldn't help but blush at they way these words came out from him, "Good morning," you managed to reply, your own voice contracts to his was soft, barely above a whisper.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. "About last night..." he started, trailing off as if searching for the right words.

"Yeah?" you gulped, suddenly feeling scared about what he might say next. "I meant every word ," he confessed, his gaze locking with yours. "And I meant that kiss too." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing that everything didn't happened in dreamland. It was real, just like the feelings between the both of you.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, feeling overwhelmed by his intense but loving gaze. "You don't have to," he assured you, moving the hand that rested behind your head to pinch the check he kissed you not a moment ago. "Just know that we are together from now on.”

As you absorbed his words, a mixture of disbelief and joy washed over you.

"Together, huh?" you echoed, seeking confirmation in his eyes. Kaiser nodded, his expression serious yet filled with a warmth that melted your worries away. "Yes, together. Me and you, like a couple."

A wide smile broke across your face, and you couldn't contain the happiness within you. "I like the sound of it.” you replied, as he smiled back at you. "Glad to hear that, Erdbeere." As you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, a comfortable silence wrapped around both of you.

"My uncle will kill you tho." Kaiser chuckled, as he played with your hair. "Don't worry about it, he won't."

Somewhere in the hotel restaurant, Uncle Franz was on the verge of killing the first thing he saw because Kaiser was late for breakfast, and so were you. “I am going to kill that boy.”

1 MONTH LATER:

Kaiser touched the strands of his overgrown and messy hair as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, "I need a change," he said to Ness, who was glad to do anything for his friend.

“Like a new hairstyle?” The magician asked, wondering what was wrong with his long hair. “Yeah, Y/N said that it was getting in the way, when we cuddled. And also tying it up while playing every second bothers me.”

“Well, I am willing to help, we should have scissors in the cupboards. Go sit while I find them.” the striker sat down in the chair in front of the mirror when his friend returned with the scissors.

With tentative snips and Ness transformed Kaiser's lion mane into a stylish cut, an improvised mullet you can say. As the blonde boy was looking at himself in the big bathroom mirror, and Ness admiring his final product a knock was heard from the door. You entered with a plastic bag full of snacks — it was their day off, so you thought you’d spoil them a little but.

Proudly, he turned to you, his girlfriend of one month, to hear your opinion. "Yes, definitely! And why not add something more? How about dying the mullet blue? It will match with your tattoo."

“Sounds nice, but we don't have blue dye right now.” Kaiser said, knowing that he will have to ask Ness to go to the store to buy one, “Don't worry, I do.”

“Liebe, why do you carry hair dye in your bag?” he asked, surprised by the fact you had the item in your backpack “Well, I thought you would need one, intuition I guess.” No, it wasn't an intuition, he just talked everyday about wanting to dye his hair blue and you decided to carry a blue dye, just in case.

Women's intuition is a scary thing, he will know from now on not to mess up anything, because either way, you'll find out. But that was a worry for another day, now Kaiser was very happy with the end results. And it's the Michael Kaiser you will see from now on.

7 YEARS LATER:

Inside a very beautiful and cozy home, you tried to catch your energetic daughter, Mikaela, who was bubbling with excitement as the day of her dad’s arrival from the football tournament marked on the calendar finally came. Her giggles filled the air as she darted around the house, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, as you yelled while holding your 9-month-old son Matteo in your arms, who was laughing and clapping his hands at the sight, as you attempted to catch the energetic 4-year-old girl. “Mika, please stop running around, or you will hurt yourself.”

“Mama, I can't hear you!” How can she take so much from him, but not me? Just as you attempt to hold onto her tiny hand, the doorbell chimes. "It's Daddy!" Mikaela rushes to the door tip-toeing to reach the handle of the metal and swings it open, revealing your husband standing there, a wide grin on his face at the sight of his daughter.

Kaiser's heart swells with joy at the sight of his daughter waiting for him at the door. He bends down to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as she squeals with delight. "Hey there, my little princess!" he exclaims, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

As Mikaela showers him with hugs and kisses, Kaiser spots Matteo nestled in his wife's arms, a smile spreading across the baby's face as he reaches out his chubby arms towards his father. With a chuckle, Kaiser takes Matteo from you, exchanging a loving glance before enveloping you in a warm embrace, holding you close as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

But their tender moment is interrupted by Mikaela's voice piping up, "Daddy, what about me?" she pouts, her arms outstretched towards her father. Kaiser laughs heartily, balancing Matteo in one arm as he bends down to scoop Mikaela up into his arms once more. He showers her with kisses, making her giggle as he sets her down, as she eagerly reaches out for the brightly wrapped present he’s been hiding behind his back, giving you some time to see each other up close, and not from the small telephone screen.

But before Mikaela can even fully enjoy her new toy, Matteo starts wriggling in his arms. "My little boy missed me too, right?" he coos, as the baby starts laughing from happiness, kicking his little feet, "See Y/N, I told you he is a future football star. Look at that kick!"

As Kaiser holds Matteo, you wrap your arms around him again. "Welcome home, my love," you whisper, giving his lips a little peck. Kaiser returns the embrace, holding you close as he breathes in the familiar scent of home. Just when you think the moment couldn’t get any sweeter, Mikaela pipes up, tugging at Kaiser’s sleeve. "Daddy, what about me? I want more kisses too!" she exclaims, puckering her lips in exaggerated anticipation.

Kaiser chuckles warmly, bending down to scoop Mikaela up once again. "Of course, sweetheart," he says, planting a flurry of kisses on her cheeks as she laughs at her father's teasing and you watch with a smile on your face your small loving family, and how you can't ask for more because you have him and you love him more than anything.

#✧* 🤍 blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock fanfiction #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x you

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agendabymooner · 2 years ago

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SOMETHING SPOILED !!! FERNANDO A. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she could easily get away with things and when she couldn’t, he always made sure to put her back in her place

content warning: smut (minors dni!), pwp(ish?), what is context, explicit language, themes of jealousy and sugar daddy/baby relationship, degradation, dumbification, spitting, dacryphilia, impact play, brief mention of oral sex (m receiving), brat taming (dom!fernando), brief lance stroll x reader interaction, shitty smut, what’s beta reading we just rawdog our writing in here

note: i will be making a separate masterlist for this i think… lmk what you think and enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

send your 💌re:moony’s planner requests here!

she can get away from a lot of things. she knew that. fernando knew that.

in fact, fernando would even reward her for it. after all, she never demanded too much and all he wanted was to give her the world.

she wanted a new pair of shoes? he’d buy her the sneakers AND a pair of red bottoms. she wanted something from macy’s? fuck that; he’d have his assistant book the whole floor of harrods just so she can pick out new clothes for her closet.

he would give her everything. even if she tends to be very playful and hilarious, he’d give her everything just to see it.

her cheekiness was a welcome distraction from his busy life as a professional racer. she’d often tease him in different ways but not once did she ever cross the lines and tested his patience and limits. she wasn’t really a brat, to say the least— she’d often give up by the time fernando would wrap his arms around her and press kisses all over her face.

and if she didn’t give up her act, he’d put her back to her place. it rarely happened, and when it did— they were rough. she would continue to act up just so he could punish her. she welcomed the pain with no hesitation and allowed him to control her like she was nothing but a body to be tossed around.

she could get away from a lot. whenever she couldn’t, her excitement would soak through her knickers while thinking about his next move.

but right now, she wasn’t really at fault for being so bratty. her petulant attitude toward him wasn’t something that she expected from herself, but when her partner continued to ignore her throughout the party after arriving separately— the least she could do was throw his attitude right back at him. more petulantly, if you were to compare her actions to his.

she sat by the bar counter and quietly sipped on her drink, her ears ringing at the sound of his laughter from the distance alongside other men while they spoke about the happenings during the race earlier today.

she looked so pathetic like this; dressed up in the prettiest slip dress that turned to be a fabric of despair. she was the prettiest woman to have ever existed, and even the rest of the grid thought so, yet she looked so alone. she blamed fernando for this.

all she wanted was him. she only wanted him right now. nothing more, nothing less.

yet, in a world where he’d give her everything, he wouldn’t hand himself over to her. instead, he was laughing with lewis and carlos as they chatted about whatever the fuck it was.

“you’d make a good renaissance painting,” her head shot up at the sound as she found lance stroll sitting next to her. the canadian beamed at her teasingly before sipping on his whiskey on the rocks.

she scoffed, “if you want to see me naked, just say that.”

lance laughed over the club music that continued to bust everyone’s eardrums. he then continued, “i would say that but do i really want to get my engines busted by a certain teammate before the next race?”

her thoughts drifted back to fernando, who, from afar, had gone quiet (not that she knew that), before she rolled her eyes. “don’t be stupid,” she said, “i don’t think he’d care enough to ruin your car.”

“you’re underestimating the man,” lance chuckled, “way too much, if anything. he could kill with just a look if anyone’s made a passing comment about you.”

“i really should stop showing up at these stupid races,” she muttered quietly, “it’ll get worse as soon as people find out i hang out in the garages or paddock.”

“why?” lance asked, his frown an evident of concern as he said, “are you two not a…”

“no, we’re not,” she interrupted with a huff, downing the rest of her drink as she continued, “it’s still the same arrangement. i could just stay at home and still get an allowance— i dunno why i said i’d come with him. look where i am now. he’s doing the same shit he does whenever he’s arriving at the paddock— i have to go after him so nobody knows who i am.”

it was so obvious that she and fernando should be more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. he showed her something more than financial support and casual intimacy— yet he kept it on the down low as if she’s just a pastime.

“damn,” lance muttered, offering her a sympathetic smile as he said, “is the money that good?”

“i don’t even care about the money anymore,” she laughed quietly, her eyes pausing from their track as she saw the obvious glare from her partner. he certainly wasn’t happy with what he was seeing.

yet she ignored his heavy scowl as she beamed, “i’m sure you’d be able to provide more if it was about it.”

lance smirked lazily, now realizing what she was implying as he replied, “i’m sure i would’ve given it to you already if you weren’t as attached to fernando as you are now.”

looking away from fernando, she covered her excitement and petulance with a giggle before she shoved lance lightly. “shut up.”

sure, she could get away from a lot of things. but the way fernando stared at her coldly while she was acting all playful towards lance told her enough about the kind of treatment a spoiled brat like her would get from him.

all she could do was squirm at the thought.

her mouth let out a shrill cry as fernando pulled her mouth away from his cock, saliva dribbling down her chin to her chest as she felt a sharp pain on the roots of her head. he continued to grab a handful of her hair as he looked down at her.

his eyes showed nothing of affection. his face offered nothing but mockery and anger. not towards her— but her bratty attitude that she showed tonight.

he never felt so jealous until he saw lance talking to her up close. and he’s never been angrier than what he felt when she let his teammate get close like that. like she could just move on after talking to the man with a flirtatious smile and get away from her crimes that easily.

her petulance and constant refusal on the way back to the hotel led to where she was now. her thighs rubbed against each other while tears trickled down her reddening cheeks.

she was desperate for his cock and his touch. both of which she didn’t even deserve despite being his spoiled girlfriend.

she tried to be prideful and strong as she refused to listen to his orders.

it was too bad for her because while she thought that her pride was big, fernando alonso’s pride was bigger. his ego and his desire to control were what she enjoyed most about this— and these were his tools to tame her.

“did you think that you can get away from that, hermosa?” he spewed out, watching her as she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “not listening to me and letting those men get near you— you’re not very smart, are you?”

“m- fer—“ she babbled, only to be interrupted by the clicking of his tongue as his other hand gripped her chin tightly. finally letting go of her hair, he tilted her chin up to his direction without a word.

he growled quietly, “you’re such a disobedient girl. a very ungrateful and disobedient girl. you don’t deserve my cock after all of this, hermosa.”

“n- no! please-“ she exclaimed, squirming against the hold on her chin as she pleaded with him, “‘ll be good! i’ll be a good girl, i pr- promise. jus’ wan’ your cock- please nando!”

his breath fanned on her face as he chuckled quietly, “you don’t listen to me unless you want it, hm?”

his hand let go of the grip for a moment, only for his palm to strike her cheek as he gripped her face once more. “open.”

her brain, feeling hazy from the impact of his slapping and being deprived of his touch and his cock, short circuited. fernando tsked, tapping her reddening cheek once more as he crooned, “look at you, amor. you’re so dumb for my cock, eh? such a stupid bratty girl— wanting my cock when she doesn’t deserve it— open your mouth, hermosa.”

she obliged, not wanting to disobey him anymore as he grinned. his grin eventually turned into a frown before spitting in her mouth as he demanded, “you know what to do.”

closing her mouth, she swallowed without a hesitation while her glistening eyes looked up at him.

“so you listen then,” he laughed mockingly, “i thought i’ve already fucked your mouth until you turned stupid.”

she rubbed her thighs against each other, hoping for some sort of relief as a whine escaped her throat. “what’s wrong, hermosa?” tears escaped her eyes as she continued to plead with him wordlessly. “that’s not going to get you anywhere right now— not after you pulled that shit earlier just so you can piss me off.”

she couldn’t find a way to speak, humiliation and pleasure mixed with her adrenaline as she babbled, “i- i wan’- ‘m…”

“speak up,” he laughed once more. “you’re way too mouthy earlier— what is stopping you now?”

she whimpered, feeling too frustrated and already feeling too fucked out. she really wasn’t going to get away with all of those things that she did just to catch his attention earlier.

she just wanted him, but she couldn’t seem to get it all out because of the immense pleasure that she received from being disciplined.

he chuckled quietly, “you want my cock?”

she nodded frantically, a series of murmurs escaped her mouth as she meekly cried out, “want you to fuck me, please, please, please nando~ ‘m a good girl.”

“no, you’re really not, hermosa,” he grinned wickedly, “if you were you would’ve known not to flirt with those people. but i guess it was my fault that i’ve left you hanging and horny before we went, no? otherwise you wouldn’t have been that stupid to tease them like you would with me.”

she squirmed again, whimpering at his words as fernando continued, “but i’ve given you so much that you always find a way to get some more. i think that my little slut should be thankful for what she’s getting instead of acting like a spoiled brat.”

she couldn’t even find herself to protest. she was so drunk in lust and his dominance that she couldn’t find herself to fight back against his words.

her love for him would have to wait. she was in too deep right now and if it meant that she’ll get an orgasm and maybe more then she’d do whatever it takes to please him.

after all, she was spoiled already. working hard didn’t sound too bad.

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