#away from the music and the dancing and the making out

[yanaromanov]

fuck me, i’m famous

｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

paring: rockstar!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: when your boyfriend drags you along to a rock concert of a band you barely know, and then ceremoniously dumps you to go out with his friends after, it feels like your night can’t get any worse. thankfully, the guitarist of the band seems to take a particular interest in you and offers you an alternative offer on how to spend your night that seems just too good to refuse.

warning(s): cheating (r has a bf), but he’s a shitty bf, oc male character, band jargon that may or may not be correct, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of flirting, slight mention of crystals, swearing, many pet names, first time with a woman, smut, fingering, thigh riding, masturbation, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hickeys, natasha talking you through things, lots of praise, slight degradation (?), minors dni.

authors note: okay i feel like this is kinda bad and messy but i also spent too much time on it not to post. i’m still getting used to writing smut and haven’t wrote anything like this before so i hope it’s okay 😭😭 the end is also rushed so plz just ignore that :))

wc: 12.2K words

You've seen enough books and movies to know how things are supposed to go. How that perfect moment comes, when the pieces fall into place and you suddenly realize this is what you're meant to do, what you've always meant to do. But you've also lived a life long enough to know it never actually happens. In truth, it's all a bunch of bullshit.

There's never such thing as love at first sight, no moment where the world freezes on everyone except you and music plays in slow motion in the background, your eyes falling on that one person through the crowd that you just know your heart only beats for. In real life, the cards just don't fall like that. There's too many shitty people and grievous circumstances for the true movie dream to ever be lived, forever just a piece of fiction one can only fantasize of.

You know all this, understand it to be true. And yet, one hot Summer night, it feels like it all melts away and that fairy tale veil falls down right in front of your very own eyes.

It's not slow when it happens, not like in the movies. It's fast and loud and hot and sweaty. The music around you blares into your ears, bodies beside you screaming out lyrics you barely know. In the crowded space, you at least try to have a good time, try to mimic your boyfriend's energy as he dances and sings beside you, but you know its all futile. You want to leave. Truly, never wanted to come in the first place, but had done for him, for all his pleas and begs. You'll love it, I promise. Please come, baby, please.

The lights are hurting your eyes, the fog burning at your irises. Everyone is far too close to you, strangers pressing up against your sides from the front row section your boyfriend, Tyler, had demanded you needed. You don't feel it right all the back there. You need to be close to feel it in your bones. You feel a little sick.

And then that's when it happens. Body jostling against the side of the raised stage, ears ringing from being far too close to the speakers, that's when your own movie moment finally crashes into you. It's quick, so quick you don't even take notice till a few seconds after it happens. As your eyes raise to the band playing in front of you, they graze over each of the members. The brunette hugging the microphone center stage; the other behind hammering into a black drum set; the tall blonde whose fingers dance over the fretboard of a blue bass; and then finally, the woman playing an electric guitar stage right the same color as her fiery red hair. When you meet her eye it's like one of those moments back in high school, when you're accidentally caught making eye contact with someone across the class. But this time, unlike any time with your classmates, the redhead doesn't screw her face up, passing you a dirty look. What the fuck are you looking at? Instead, she winks.

Seconds later her gaze is gone, returned to the vibrating audience, and it takes you just about as much time to even acknowledge what had just happened. It seems fake, like a miscommunication in the space of a blink. Surely you must be imagining things, the heat in the room finally getting to you. But no, you're so sure of it. So set on what you've seen. A few moments later, it's like it's confirmed. The redhead's sights turn back on you, looking down into the pit of bodies where you stand. This time she holds, her eyes trained to yours as she continues to pluck the strings of her guitar. A small smirk stretches across painted lips, teeth plunging down into plump flesh. The music doesn't slow like it does in the movies. In fact, it seems almost louder than ever as you hold contact with the redhead's playful gaze. And when she winks again, chin jutting in your direction, you know it's you she's looking at.

You feel a little too seen, and not so much in a good way. You don't feel that special moment you read about in books, the time you are the chosen one across the sea of other bodies, a spark lighting in your heart at the romanticism of it all. It actually only drives one question in to your head; why the fuck is she looking at me?

You duck your eyes away, looking to the floor and the scuffed boots on your feet. There's a half-full cup of water a few inches in front of you. You watch as dancing feet almost collide with it, surely only seconds a way from being spilled. It holds your attention for a long time, so long your boyfriend is grasping at your cheek to check you're alright. You smile the way you always seem to do. Lips painting a picture of 'yes, I'm fine', while your brain screams out in contradicting protest. How much longer till this thing is done? My fucking head hurts.

When the final song does eventually roll around, you're too lost in your own thoughts to even care. The redhead guitarist has made eye contact with you three more times since you'd first noticed. If there was any doubt you had she wasn't seeking you out, it was surely dissipated now. Each time your eyeline had actually raised to the stage in front of you, it was like the woman's eyes were already waiting for you.

Trying to hold back the dizziness from gazing down at the floor, you had tried to remember the redhead's name. In no offence to the band, or their adoring fans lined up behind you, you actually didn't know of them much at all. Sure, you've heard their songs blasted through your boyfriend's speakers, saw their faces on cassettes and cd's dumped around your apartment, but you've never truly been a follower of the band Crimson Coven. You try to rack your brain of the knowledge you have, of every rant your boyfriend has been on that you so casually zone out from. The lead singer's name is Wanda, you know that much. She seems to be his favourite from the amount of things you've heard him rattle on. She's never even taken singing lessons. She's actually European, isn't that sick? Did you know she has a twin brother? You should do your makeup like her, babe.

The redhead has you thrown for a loop though. There are two names swimming in your head, though you're pretty sure the drummer is the one named Maria and Carol doesn't seem to fit the guitarist stood on the right. For the life of you it seems you can't draw the name from your head. It stays that way until the concert is finishing, stood watching the four women walking off stage, screaming out "thank you's" and collecting thrown objects on to the small stage, all the while you notice a certain member's eyes still trained on you. You simply turn away and grab on to Tyler’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dissipating crowd. God, you can't wait to get home.

The line to the bathroom is a slight roadblock in your plan. It's not torturously long by any means, but it still has you stood outside pressing your thighs together as you try desperately to hold in the three cans of beer you'd drank before the gig had began. You're regretting that decision now as the line filters slowly into the venue's singular women's bathroom. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that? If it weren't for the half hour journey you had back to your place, you would have considered just holding it, but if the pain in your stomach were any indication, you weren't going to make it that far.

When it's finally your turn, you all but run into the cubicle. It's quieter in there, a barricade between the groups of people who’ve chosen to stay to socialize in the venue's lounge and bar area. The stall is not only a relief for your full bladder, but also your pounding head. You stay in there longer than what's needed, most likely angering the girls waiting outside, but you just can't help it. It's cool and quiet and a desperate contrast to the overstimulating room you'd just spent the last two hours in. After washing your hands, you take the time to check up on your makeup, licking the tip of your finger to fix the slightly smudged liner of your eyes. All in all, you're pretty intact considering the circumstances. A pleasing picture that will soon be washed away as you head home for a night of constant reiterations of the concert you'd just experienced.

You're almost rolling your eyes already at the thought, so easily predicting your boyfriend's behavior for the next several hours. It's this state of disapproval that blinds you as you open the door to the bathroom, not noticing the taller woman standing there before she's backing you up into the stall.

You stumble slightly as the presence walks towards you, your eyes adjusting to the other person who has suddenly joined you in the room. For a moment their back is turned, locking the door to the stall before their face is revealed to you. You curse a little under your breath when you recognise the features.

"There you are. God, do you know hard it was to track you down? Slipped right in here before I could get to ya."

The redhead in front of you breathes out her words, smiling down at you in a way that flips your stomach. It's in that moments everything truly comes crashing down. Every doubt you had, every belief that things like this don't happen in real life is swept away as the famous guitarist stands in front of you. It really was you she was looking at from the stage and now she'd tracked you down. Pinned you into a bathroom stall as she looks down on your figure with her eyes wide, almost drunk. "Uhm, hi?" Is all you manage to say, the entirety of the situation still comprehending itself in your mind.

The redhead in front of you smirks widely as she responds. "Hi." It's then that it hits you, the name you couldn't pinpoint earlier. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Lead guitarist of Crimson Coven. You're trying to remember anything Tyler might have said about her when she takes another step in your direction.

"Wow," she breathes, almost to herself. "You're even prettier up close." Her eyes seem to trace over your whole figure, her tongue playing with the inside of her cheek. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Uhm...thank you?" you stutter back, not entirely sure of how you're supposed to act in this situation. You're still trying to get over the shock of her pushing you back into the bathroom before you'd tried to leave. Not sure what else to do, your own eyes trail over the star stood ahead of you. She's still wearing her outfit from her performance; an old looking graphic tee tucked into a pair of black denim shorts. The boots on her feet have silver embellishments that match perfectly with the necklaces around her neck and many rings adorning her fingers. Her lips are painted a shade of faded red that both contrasts and yet somehow works perfectly with her hair, curled and messy around her shoulders. As you look over her, the thought of why your boyfriend may just like her band so much crosses your mind. She really was hot as shit.

But despite her looks, there's still an anxiety bubbling in your chest at this situation. It’s probably not often people could get this close to the star, let alone be held up in a room alone with her. Yet your ears are still ringing and the only true wish crossing your mind's eye is your bed. So, disappointing every girl who'd rather be in your place, you simply clear your throat as you gesture mindlessly to the door behind her. "I think there's people waiting outside to use this cubicle."

The rockstar cocks her head, smirking back. "Oh yeah?" She shrugs, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I'm sure they'd be fine waiting. Didn't mind letting me cut through the line." When she smiles back at you, you assume the look in her eye is a mirror of how a predator looks at its prey. You find your lip between your teeth as you look back, very aware of just how much time you'd already spent in this bathroom and how there was a lot of people stood outside who would be becoming increasingly more annoyed at the occupied status, rockstar be damned. Though her attitude remains relaxed, the redhead in front of you seems to pick up on your hesitation because she lets out a low sigh. "Look, if you're really that bothered why don't don't we leave and your pretty ass can join me backstage?"

She takes another step towards you, eyes darkening a they take in your figure. You swallow the saliva in your mouth in an attempt to cool the burn in your stomach. "Sorry-I um-I have a boyfriend," you manage to stutter out, taken aback by her advances. She definitely was hitting on you, that much was clear now, but you knew that Tyler would be waiting for you somewhere, most likely wondering why the fuck you were taking so long to pee.

When your words ring out, its like the redhead's brain short circuits. She almost freezes, only her brows moving to pull into a deep frown. "Shit," she murmurs. "Really?"

You nod in response, fingers playing with the back of your shirt. "Yeah." The redhead looks awfully confused, her gaze trailing over you as if there's something she's missed. When her eyes meet yours once more, its like your answer is a complete mystery to her, like there's something she saw you must have missed in your own reflection. You try to brush it off, not delving into whatever thoughts must be running through the star's head. Instead you just clear your throat again, pointing to the door. "He's um- probably waiting for me."

A tight smile passes across your lips as you slowly move towards the door. The redhead lets you go, ever so slightly brushing past her arm without another word said. You reach for the handle of the door, turning it open before leaving the rockstar behind to wallow in whatever confusion or disappointment runs through her head. You just want to find Tyler and get the hell out of there.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom stall, it feels even warmer than it had before. Though now you're not entirely sure if it's just the air, or also the blood you can feel coursing through your cheeks. You try your best to brush it off, looking around the space to try and locate wherever your boyfriend might have wondered off to. Walking past the line of remaining girls, you have to try ignore their passing stares. Most are likely from your extended use of the bathroom, holding them up even further, but you can't help but feel at least a few are thinking about whatever happened between you and Natasha in that stall and why on earth you had the nerve to leave such an opportunity unfulfilled.

Trying to leave the entire interaction behind, you move to the main area of the venue lounge to try find your boyfriend so you can finally head home. It takes you a good few minutes of searching through the crowds before you spy him across the way, stood talking with all of his friends that he'd brought along to the concert.

"Tyler," you call, passing through bodies to get to him. When he doesn't seem to hear you, you shout again. "Tyler!"

Finally, he turns around, a look of recognition passing over his face as you appear by his side. "Oh there you are, babe," he says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just-I was peeing," you reply, looking around sheepishly at the group of men all staring down at you. It wasn't that you didn't like Tyler's friends per se, it was more so they just weren't your type of people. Most times they’re around, you manage to skilfully skirt around them until a time when they've all gone back home.

Tyler scoffs a little at your comment. "You were gone for like half an hour." He laughs, gesturing to the group as they all join in.

"Yeah. Um-the line was long," you say, trying to avoid the annoyance creeping up your spine as well as skirt around the encounter you'd had just moments ago. Partially because you were still trying to wrap your head around it but also because you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say about what happened. Instead, you just let out a small sigh. "Can we just go home now?"

"Oh actually," Tyler starts. "We were thinking of hitting up a few bars before we went home."

The words hit you like a blast of hot air, unable to deny the feeling of annoyance brewing under your skin. Still, you try to remain sweet in hopes he'll seek pity on you. "Tyler, please," you reply. "I'm tired, can't we just-"

"You don't have to come."

He cuts you off quickly, halting the words in your throat. The attitude you can hear in his voice almost immediately breaks the facade of kindness you were putting on. "Excuse me?"

Tyler shrugs, having the nerve to look annoyed, like you're the one being unreasonable here. "Just call a cab home. You'll be fine." And with that it seems he's had enough of the conversation, turning his shoulders away as he beckons his group to follow.

"No, Tyler wait," you try, but he continues to move away. The only thing you receive is him quickly turning over his shoulder, calling out a goodbye as he promises to see you later.

"Tyler!" You yell but it's futile, the image of your boyfriend already swallowed up by the crowd. "Fuck."

For the second time tonight it feels like you have no idea how to react. You swivel around on the spot, like a lost kid in a grocery store. Some part of you can't believe he would just leave you like that, but then the other part understands it's him all over. Stupid selfish prick.

Far past being annoyed at the night's events, you reach for the phone buried in your jacket pocket, determined to just do as you were told and order a cab home. When the screen returns to you black, the only image your own reflection staring back at you even as you press the power button repeatedly, a long string of curses escape your lips. Stupid fucking phones and their stupid ass batteries. And of course tonight had to be the night you had forgone your charger, leaving you with just a useless weight of metal that you slip back into your pocket. Just my fucking luck.

For a moment, you're stuck on what to do, how to find a way home, but then your eyes fall on the bar across the room. You make your way through the crowd, squeezing past people and mumbling half-assed 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' until you eventually reach the bar. When you do, the bartender walks over to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you could call me a cab?" you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the venue's loud music.

The bartender furrows his brow. "What?"

"A cab," you repeat, leaning in further to his ear. "Can you call me a cab, please? My phone is dead."

"Oh, I can't sorry," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "Phone is broken."

"What? Can't you use your mobile or-"

"Not while I'm on shift."

He shrugs again. You scoff.

"Please. I really need to get home."

"Sorry," the bartender responds finally, turning away to move towards another customer down the bar.

You watch him go, scowling. When he starts to talk to someone else, asking for their order, another waterfall of curses fall from your tongue. How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?

"Hey gorgeous."

The voice all but pulls you from your thoughts and to the right, dragging you away from the harsh stare you were given the unhelpful bartender. When your eyes fall to the person who had sidled up beside you, a small sigh slips out, your eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Wow," the redhead responds, easily picking up on your bad attitude. She holds her hands up. "Sorry to offend."

You look back at the rockstar, at Natasha. It seems she's found you again in a moment where you want nothing more than to find a way out of there. Though despite your frustration, you know it's not her fault, that she isn't the one controlling the universe so adamant on your downfall tonight. So, you force yourself to soften your expression as you turn back to her. "No. No, I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It's just- I'm trying to get a cab home but apparently their phone is broken." You gesture towards the bar, displaying the utter uselessness of its bartender with the look on your face.

Natasha seems to take a little amusement in your frustration, the faintest of a smile appearing on her face. "You ain't got your own phone to call a cab?" The mobile is received from your pocket, quickly held up by your hand as you flash the dead device to the redhead opposite. She sighs, tilting her head back. "Ah, I see. What about that boyfriend of yours? Couldn't he call you a cab?"

You're a little surprised to hear her mention that piece of information, even if you'd only shared it with her minutes before in the bathroom stall. The mention of his presence is enough to drag the long sigh from your chest as you stare down at the bar. "Not when he's the reason I need one."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one."

Her words draw your eyes back to her, briefly grazing over her face before you respond. "He left with his friends. Gone off to some other bar. Told me to phone a cab home."

Natasha lets out a breath of air. "Dickhead." You watch her as she takes a sip from the beer in her hand, trying not to notice the way her lips look pressed against the top of the bottle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to wait around on assholes like that."

And then there's that same heat you felt in the bathroom, creeping up your cheeks unwelcome. You turn away again as you shrug in an attempt to hide it. "He's not that bad-" "Sure," Natasha cuts you off before you can even finish your explanation. In truth, you weren't even sure what else you were going to say, what redeeming qualities you could draw about the boy who'd left you stranded in the city to go get drunk with his friends. Instead you just turn to the woman sat beside you, only shallowly realising how she is in fact a minor celebrity and that a lot of the people around were probably looking over at the pair of you. But when Natasha smiles and leans in, it's like it all disappears. "Alright, lemme tell you this. You let me buy you one drink and I'll phone you a taxi home."

You look back at the rockstar sat across from you, letting her words settle into your mind. This close you can once again tell just how beautiful she is, how any girl in this room would pay good money to be where you are right now. But you don't want to be that kind of girl, the kind that chases after someone just because they have a little bit of fame. Nevertheless, there is something about the redhead that draws you in. Maybe it's the layers of piercings you can see stacking her ears, or the patchwork of tatoos lining her exposed arms. Whatever it is, something about her is making you want to follow whatever she says. Furthermore, her offer is one that is rather too good to refuse. After a moment, you sigh as you nod your head. "Fine. One drink." Natasha Romanoff smirks, calling the bartender over almost immediately with two fingers. It's the same tilted smile you had seen her passing you from across the stage, though now you can take notice of the small dimple that appears on her cheek when those lips pull taught. Everything about this encounter was setting something alight inside you but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

When your drink finally arrives - curtesy of a different bartender - you decidedly join the rockstar on the stools lined up against the bar. The leather is sticky and uncomfortable against the exposed skin under your skirt. Still, you ignore it as you look over at the redhead to your right, slowly taking a sip of the cocktail you'd ordered as you get the opportunity to voice the question that's been on your mind for the last couple hours. "Why were you looking at me on stage?"

"Why'd you think?" Natasha smirks the widest you've seen all night, licking her bottom lip as she turns to you. "I thought maybe you and I could have some fun but…you had to be little miss taken." You try not to react to her words, or moreover the way her eyes drag themselves over your body, particularly your exposed thighs against the red leather of the barstool. "Maybe we could still have some fun yet tho, hm?" Natasha finishes, her eyes returning to yours. Even in the dim light of the bar you can tell they're blown out, pupils wide as they drink you in.

You let out a sigh. "Listen, in the nicest way possible, I don't actually really know who you are and I don't know about this whole thing you're doing, if it's normal but-"

"Wait," Natasha cuts you off. "You were in the front row and don't know who I am?"

You feel a little bashful as you shrug your shoulders. "I mean- I kinda do, I guess. I mean- I've listened to a few of your band's songs but I'm not like- a fan or anything."

"Not a fan?" Natasha breathes, reaching to take another sip of her drink with an amused expression. "So tell me, how does a girl who's not a fan end up hugging the stage all night?"

You take a sip of your own cocktail before you reply. "My boyfriend bought the tickets."

"Ah there it is," Natasha nods. "The boyfriend yet again." She turns in her chair, legs moving to dangle off the side. "You know, he's not really our target demographic."

You know exactly what she's talking about, almost too quickly. It was rather obvious to you that Crimson Coven was not a band trying to attract straight men, even if they did flock to them over their members' good looks. "Yeah, I tried to tell him that," you reply, sipping on your drink.

One of the redhead's brows raises, eyes tracing over your face. "What's that one saying?" she ask, swirling the bottle in her hands. "Takes one to know one?" You feel the saliva pool in your throat as she looks back at you, smirk wider than ever. Swallowing harshly, you take a rather big swig of your drink, trying your best to ignore the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Natasha simply breathes out a laugh. "I think you're maybe not as you first seem, little lady." Right then there's a look that passes between you, your eyes wide and questioning, Natasha's dark and hooded. Then her hand is landing on your thigh, just above your knee where the skin is exposed. Her thumb strokes back and forth delicately as she licks her lips. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

There's a strange bubbling inside your stomach, a flutter to your heart. You want to turn and walk right out of there, ditch the rockstar in front of you and try your luck hailing a cab on the street. But part of you notices the shiver her touch sends up your thigh, how her skin is warm against yours in just the right kind of way, how despite your circumstances, just how amazing this moment feels. "Y/N," you reply eventually, swallowing your first instincts to the warm pit of your stomach.

"Y/N," the redhead repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. "I'm-"

"Natasha. I know."

She seems taken aback by your quick answer, cutting off her sentence before she can finish. She frowns slightly back at you. "I thought you said you didn't."

Now it's your turn to raise your brow. "I said I wasn't a fan. Not that I didn't know your name."

"I see," Natasha replies, her voice laced with amusement. She smiles to herself as she sips her beer, turning back with a wide grin. "You know, I've never slept with a Y/N before."

"You sleep with a lot of girls then?"

"I've done the rounds," Natasha shrugs. The nonchalant nature of her reply is enough to have you passing her a displeased look across the bar. She raises her brow, looking back at you. "What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you I'm the virgin mary?"

You want to laugh in response but hold yourself back, entirely aware of the game Natasha is trying to play. "So...what?" you draw out, playing with the rim of your glass. "You want me to be one of your new collectibles?"

"Well maybe if I get lucky."

You turn back to the smirking redhead. "I wouldn't buy a lottery ticket."

And she laughs, like really laughs right into her drink before she takes a sip. When she places it back on the bar, she shakes her head as she turns to look at you with a smirk. "You know most girls flock to my side," she says, raising a brow. "Asking for autographs or pictures."

"I already told you. I don't know that much about your band."

"You're here though, aren't you?" Natasha replies. "You must know some things."

She isn't entirely wrong. Sure, you knew of the things your boyfriend has endlessly droned on about. About Wanda being the one who named the band. Or about Carol and her cat, or Maria and her brief military background. You even knew about Natasha, little sparks in your memory of her coming from Russia or her hair being blonde at some point. It's all stored in the backlog of your brain, hours of knowledge you'd spent years sorting into the dusty compartments of your mind you never cared to look at. Still, there's something now about speaking to Natasha in real time, not hearing about your boyfriend's idealised version of her that feels a little different. Things here feel a little more real.

You don't acknowledge Natasha's question as you take a sip from your drink. "You want me to ask for your autograph?" you ask as you place the glass back down. "Is that it?"

The answer that follows is in such a low register you can barely hear it over the music. "I think we both know what I want."

You look back at Natasha, at her dazzling smirk and messy red hair. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your girl." A tight smile appears on your lips as you gaze out into the sea of bodies across the room. "Why don't you go find someone else?"

"Why would I when you're the prettiest thing in here?" Natasha's response is quick, almost as quick as the way her eyes divert to to rest if your body. "Hell, I'd go as far as to say you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Listen," you sigh. "I appreciate the flattery but-"

"I ain't fucking around if that's what you think," Natasha says quickly, cutting you off. The look in her eye as she scans your face shows how genuine her words feel. "You caught my eye the second I stepped on stage. You're fucking gorgeous, angel. Forgive me if it's a crime to want to see more."

Despite your better instincts, you let out a laugh into your glass. No one has ever been this forward with you before, never complimented you so much to the point you can feel the heat of their words on your skin. Hell, not even Tyler was ever this keen to get you into bed. And you know you shouldn't like it, shouldn't fall for the rockstar's methods, but you can't help but enjoy the praise just a little bit.

That feeling is soon quashed however when your temple gives a sudden jolt of pain. You wince slightly, reminded of the too-loud atmosphere you'd spent the last few hours in. The alcohol probably wasn't helping much either.

"What's wrong?"

You're a little surprised when Natasha speaks, unaware of her having noticed your small flinch at the pain. You simply shake your head in response, smiling back at her. "Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You know," the rockstar replies quickly. "It's cooler backstage. Quieter too." You must give her a look laced with poison because she holds her hands up in defence once again, though this time smirking back at you. "Hey, Im just saying."

Despite your glare, you're still interested in the redhead sat opposite you. It's like even with her forward approach, you can't help but be drawn to some part of her. You try to avoid the smile that creeps back on to your face as you look back into her eyes. "Does this routine usually work for you?"

Natasha chuckles to herself before leaning in to speak. "Honey, by now I usually have a girl screaming my name as she rides my face."

It's now you're entirely glad of the dimness in the room, hiding the flushed state that rises in your throat and heats up your cheeks. You can feel yourself getting worked up by Natasha's bold statement, unsure of what to do with yourself or how to respond. In doubt of yourself, you simply reach for the cocktail glass in front of you and down the rest of the liquid. It burns a little going down but you find you don't mind it. Anything to take away from the feeling you can recognise brewing in your stomach.

You can just about feel Natasha's smirk as much as you can see it, pressing into the side of your head as she watches you become flustered, clearly enjoying the effect she is having on you. "Here," she says, adjusting herself in the chair. "Let me buy you another one."

You turn to meet her eye, holding it harshly. "I said one drink."

That smirk remains for a long while as Natasha just looks back at you, not answering for a few passing moments. It even stays as she lifts one of her arms, arching it so it comes to rest on the back of your barstool, officially caging in your conversation. "Alright," she drawls, her body leaning in towards yours. "Look at it like this. I can buy you another drink and we can talk some more. Maybe think about heading backstage, get you somewhere quieter. Or..." The redhead licks her licks, pausing as she angles her head. "I can phone you that cab now and you can mope in the backseat till you get home. Then, stumble into your cold apartment alone and just wait for your drunk boyfriend to get home and sidle up next to you in bed."

The blatant look on Natasha's face is a good representation of how you feel about the whole situation she's proposed. The thought of dealing with Tyler later is enough to have you rolling your eyes, already imagining his drunken state reaching out for you and wiping wet kisses along your neck, stinking of booze and the remaining perfume of whatever girl he's been chatting up at the bar. It's almost like a routine you've both fallen into, simply ignoring it every time until without fail, it'll happen again.

And maybe tonight you're done with it. Maybe tonight is the night you don't want to have to deal with him anymore, to hear him talk about himself for hours on end like you don't even exist. It's partially the thought of finally letting that go that pulls you in the direction you choose, but it's also largely down to the way you can feel Natasha pressing in closer, her face moving just inches from yours as her lips press up against your ear. Somehow, it's like you can even feel her smirking as her lips barely graze the skin beside your face. "If you come with me, I promise you won't regret it."

Maybe it is that that finally does it for you, the shiver of goosebumps running down your spine as you still feel the redhead's hand grazing your thigh. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the heat finally getting to you, or the alcohol hitting your head. It could be any of those, or maybe combination of them all. Whatever your brain decides to settle on as a reason, it doesn't really matter because within seconds, you're calling over the bartender for another drink, allowing yourself to fall into whatever rabbit hole Natasha Romanoff is offering you.

"I knew I'd like you, Y/N," the redhead whispers close, grinning widely at your acceptance. You don't say anything in response until the bartender is placing your vodka coke on the bar. And even then, just as you reach for the glass, Natasha is diverging any words you may have spoken as she grabs hold of your hand. "Come on," she calls and it's a challenge not to spill any of the drink as the redhead quickly begins to pull you from the bar.

"Natasha, wait-" you try to respond, not entirely sure of where this might be going, but the star is quickly cutting you off as she presses her lips together.

"Shh," she drags, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's okay, angel. It's better back here, I promise."

Something in you gives in because you let her drag you through the crowds of the room, trying desperately not to spill the beverage in your hands. You notice on the way a few recognising faces that glance at Natasha, then almost turn a little sour as they fall onto you. You only get the chance to wonder about their jealousy for a few moments before Natasha has pulled you away from everyone entirely, slipping you through a door into a quiet corridor. And then, after turning a few corners and dodging a few stacks of equipment crates, she pulls you through another door into an entirely empty room.

It's only then does the redhead finally release your hand, letting you roam free as she crosses to sit on one of the sofas positioned within the room. Beside them, there's stacks of band equipment, most of which you don't quite recognise. The red guitar on the stand is easy, and the set of drumsticks lying on a table, but the speakers and wires sit in a valley of other items you probably couldn't name if you tried.

There are scatterings of personality throughout the space; a leather jacket thrown over a couch, an ashtray of old cigarettes on a coffee table, some cards laying close beside it. And for a moment you wonder if this is what Natasha Romanoff's life is like. Backrooms full of band equipment, roaring crowds that call out her name. An endless supply of money and booze and cigarettes and girls. It's so so far away from the reality that you live that it can't help but be a little fascinating, this room just a little window into the life of a true rockstar.

The one thing you do very quickly notice however, is the main luxury that the exclusive backstage room seems to have; air conditioning. Beautifully cool air floods your body as soon as the door closes behind you, your headache already cowering back in the quiet atmosphere. You just can't help but let out a long, appreciative sigh at the respite from the hot, humid air outside.

"Told ya." Natasha's voice calls as you see her throw herself down on one of the sofas, so easily slipping into her own space backstage.

You simply roll your eyes as you take a sip of the drink in your hand, surprisingly intact after lugging it across the venue. "So, where are your other friends?" you ask, looking more so at the room full of band things than the member sat on the couch across from you.

Natasha sighs, sitting back as her eyes drag over you. "Probably in rooms close by hoping to get somewhere like me."

"And where exactly is that?" you ask, feet wandering across the opposite side of the room from the redhead. She smirks back at you, watching your every movement.

"Why don't you tell me, gorgeous?"

You can feel yourself smile, finally allowing Natasha's flirting get to you. But instead of replying to her question, you simply run your fingers over the red instrument propped up on the stand beside you. "How long have you played guitar?"

"Fifteen years," Natasha replies quickly, unwavering at your change of topic.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the instrument. "Wow." There isn't anything you've probably committed to for that long, besides maybe school. You take a sip of your drink as you turn to lean on a table against the wall, now facing the still sitting redhead across the way. "How'd you meet the other girls?"

"It's a long story."

You hum in response, waiting just a moment for her to elaborate before you realise she's leaving it up to your own imagination. The two of you hold eye contact as you bring your drink up to your mouth, letting the bubbles pop on your lips as you drink before smoothing it over with your tongue. Theres a specific look in Natasha's eye you can't seem to recognise, almost as if she wants to eat you right where you stand. That smirk widens as you take another sip, your tongue yet again swiping over your lips and the sweet residual soda lingering there. It's then Natasha finally speaks, nodding her head in your direction. "Come here."

And you do. Placing your drink down on the table before pressing yourself up from it, you slowly make your way across the room to where Natasha sits. As you come to stand between her open legs, the rockstar sits up, her body straightening and her hands coming to rest on the sides of your hips. You let them explore a little as Natasha moves, forgoing the layer of your leather jacket and pressing directly beneath the hem on your shirt. Her fingertips feel calloused as they brush the skin beneath it, years of playing guitar coming to create the most amazing sensation as she brushes against your body.

"God, your skin is so soft," Natasha says lowly, almost to herself. It sounds like she's truly mesmerised, her entire being taken over by the feeling of you against her skin. And perhaps some part of you feels it too because without knowing what truly compels you, you find yourself lowering your body down into her lap. Natasha smirks as you come to rest upon her thighs, knees caging either side of her body. She glances down at the way your skirt rides up, only leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath. Her hands come to rest there, stroking the soft skin of your upper thighs as you lift your arms above her shoulders, letting them fall behind her head as you stare into her eyes. From here, in the new lighting of the backstage room, you can see the sea of green that shrouds her pupils.

For a while you two just drink each other in, your bodies comfortably close as your eyes trace one another. Then, eventually Natasha is talking once more as her fingers reach out towards you. "What's this?"

You follow her eyeline down to your chest, watching the way her fingers have found the crystal hanging around your neck. "Aventurine," your reply.

Natasha smiles as she looks back at your face. "Wanda's the crystal lover so you'll have to enlighten me. What does this one do?"

You shrug a little. "It's brings a few things...Hope, optimism, prosperity. Mostly luck."

The redhead raises a brow as her voice finds that playful tone. "Luck?"

"Mhm," you hum, finding yourself leaning in just slightly closer. "Stone of opportunity."

"So you're telling me it's because of this little rock that I wound up with a pretty girl sat on my lap?"

You hold back a laugh as you search Natasha's smirking face. "Don't call it a rock."

"No?"

You shake your head, humming. "I think it offends them."

The two of you are pressed even closer now, your arms coming crossed behind Natasha's head as she pulls you in. Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks. "I know some things I could do to offend a lot of people."

The breath you release is shaky as you feel Natasha's hand reach up to cusp your face. She holds your chin, finger so delicate across your skin before she reaches to trace your bottom lip, just momentarily pulling it down with her thumb.

And it's then, with her face pressed so close to yours, green eyes almost black with lust, that you finally let everything go and you lean in. The first kiss is electrifying. Like that first strum of a chord when the guitar kicks in in a song, the bass just rattling your bones and setting your nerves on fire.

Natasha's lips are beautifully soft against yours, a contrast to the harshness of her fingertips you can feel pressing into the side of your face. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and cigarette smoke, sweet but hazy to your senses. The redhead quickly takes a grip of your jaw, angling your head just right so she can drive the kiss deeper. You don't complain as she begins to domineer your mouth, tongue sliding across yours with the skills of a professional.

When you both finally pull back for air, you can only wonder why you forced yourself to wait for this so long. Her touch is like nothing you've ever felt before, your entire body simply set alight with a hunger for her. You look down at the redhead for a moment and Natasha smirks devilishly up at you, eyes blown wide before she's pulling you back in. Your hands hold the back of her neck as your lips collide once more, pulling her in as close to you as you can in a desperate need for more.

Natasha's fingers dance up your arms before you can feel her begin to press the leather jacket away from your shoulders. You move your hands to let her remove it, only hearing it crash to the floor as you try desperately to hold your lips against the rockstar's. A low whine erupts in your throat as you feel her pull away seconds later, your bruised mouth chasing hers.

But Natasha just lets herself grin as her hands caress your body, deft fingers running up and down your sides. Only moments later, she's reaching beneath the material of your shirt to pull it over your head. Her breaths are heavy as her eyes trace your exposed body, almost fixated on the swell of your breasts in the lacy balconette bra cladding your chest.

"Fuck," the redhead says under her breath. Her hands come up to caress your tits, squeezing them tenderly through the material as your own pants flow from your chest. Her lips connect soon after, kissing and nipping at the skin of your cleavage with delicate precision. You let your head fall back as the redhead pays attention to your chest, simultaneously sucking and playing with your tits with her mouth and hands, sending rolls of pleasure flooding down your spine.

When one of her hands slips up the bare skin of your back, her lips disconnect as she meets your eye. Her fingers play with the clasp of your bra as you look down at her. "Can I?" she whispers, face so close to your own.

"Uh huh," you reply, nodding your head quickly. It's only seconds later you can feel the release against your chest, Natasha's skilled hands making quick work of the clasp and tossing your brassiere to the side. Her attention is straight back on you as she reveals your bare chest, kissing the previously hidden skin as she murmurs soft praises into the flesh. "God, you're so beautiful."

Your fingers find a place running through her hair as she continues to play with your tits, red fibres intertwined with your painted nails. A string of softer sounds elicits from your throat as Natasha's fingers find your nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds with just the perfect amount of pressure.

"Natasha," you breath out heavily, holding back a moan as her teeth replace her hands playing with your chest.

"Yeah baby?" the redhead responds, looking up at you but not removing her face from where it rests.

The look on her face only adds to the pool you can feel forming between your legs, all down to her touch and copious amounts of flirting. You want to see more of her, want to run your hands across her body. Not entirely confident enough to word it, you settle for a whine as you tug at her shirt. Thankfully, it seems Natasha is apt at picking up your signals because she smirks widely before reaching to untuck her shirt and pull it over her head.

As the rockstar tosses it somewhere across the room, you can't help but stare at the sight she's unveiled. Her tits sit beautifully in a red bralette, perked perfectly with pink nipples visible through the mesh material. Every part of you feels totally enamoured by her look, eyes unable to peel themselves away from her heavenly cleavage on display.

It's in your admiration, you find yourself distracted, not noticing the way the rockstar's hand has slipped up your skirt until you suddenly feel her touch against your underwear. A gasp escapes you as her fingers graze over your clothed core, most definitely feeling the way her tactics have saturated the material. The redhead makes eye contact with you, pupils dark. "This okay?" she whispers, voice as thick as honey.

It takes all your efforts to breathe out a response, entirely worked up by her touch. "Yeah," you reply, nodding quickly. By this point you would let her do whatever she wanted if it would soothe ache between your legs.

Natasha smiles widely as she hears your response. "Lift your hips for me," she says, playing a chaste kiss to your collar bone. You do ask she asks, rising up to your knees on the sides of the couch. It gives Natasha the room to hook her fingers underneath the sides of your underwear, pulling them down painfully slowly as she looks into your eyes. When she finally manages to slide them over your legs, she tosses them somewhere off to the side before pulling you back down to sit on her lap.

Just then, a sudden thought crosses your mind. "I've-I've never done this before," you stutter out. "With a woman, I mean."

You wonder for a moment if Natasha will be put off by your inexperience, but that thought is quickly extinguished when the redhead only smirks wider. "That's alright," she replies. "Cause I happen to be somewhat of an expert."

You let out the barest of a laugh at her words, letting the anxiety flood out of your mind. Natasha's smirk holds as you feel her hand creep up your skirt again, dancing over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Relax, sweetheart," she husks. "I got you now."

Her fingers move to again run over your centre, this time touching your bare skin as you feel her fingers trace your soaked folds. She collects the wetness pooling from your centre before dragging it up to your clit, spreading it as she slowly begins to circle the bud. A moan slips as she presses a little harder, her fingers perfectly pooling pleasure between your legs.

"That's it, baby," Natasha purrs, face close to your ear. "Let me hear all those pretty noises."

You feel your teeth plunge into your bottom lip as another moan slips from your throat. Natasha's touch is so teasingly slow you can't help but buck your hips a little into her hand. "Please-" you whine, desperate for her to do more.

Thankfully, Natasha obliges and another moan drawls from your chest as you feel her middle finger plunge into your core. Your muscles tense around her, pulling her finger in further as your face comes to burrow into the redhead's shoulder.

"Uh uh," Natasha sounds from above you. "Let me see your face, pretty girl." Her finger find your chin, directing your gaze back up until your eyes meet with hers."There you go."

She smiles widely as she leans in for a kiss, once again enveloping your lips in her sweet, sultry taste. The two of you press deeply into another, noses brushing together. You can feel Natasha's finger slowly begin to move inside you, teasing your walls as you whine against her mouth. Your lips only disconnect when you feel Natasha add another finger to the one pumping inside you, your face falling as a gasp sounds from your chest.

She works almost painfully slow, her fingers pulling virtually all the way out before steadily bottoming inside you once again. Each time, her fingertips press against that spot inside you, just softly enough for you to barely feel it. Chasing more of a high, your hips begin to rut against her hand. "Natasha," you whine, voice long and drawn out at her teasing attitude. Some part of you wonders if it's some form of payback for letting it take so long to get you in this position.

The rockstar places a soft kiss to the side of your neck before she's whispering in your ear, hot breath fanning out across the skin. "Shh, just ride my fingers," she says, smiling against you. You feel her free hand come to rest upon your hip, slowly guiding you to rut harder against her hand. Each time you do, you feel her fingers curl into that spot inside you, sending soft sighs of pleasure cascading from your lips.

"'Atta girl," Natasha husks, continuing to guide your movements with her palm. Your hands come to rest upon her shoulders, holding yourself up as you rock back and forth. The redhead's fingers slide in and out of you with each motion, the sounds of the wetness between your legs joined by the moans slipping from your tongue.

Natasha watches with wide eyes as you grind against her hand, fingers gripping into her shoulders as your pleasure grows. She lets her digits curl inside you, releasing sweet, sudden sounds from your lips. Her thumb moves to brush against your clit, the hardened surface sending shocks of pleasure through you each time you rock your hips.

"Fuck baby," Natasha says lowly, watching you practically fuck yourself on her lap. "Are you gonna make a mess?" she drawls. "You gonna make a mess all over my fingers for me?"

"Uh huh," you respond, barely managing to nod your head as you can feel that coil building tighter and tighter in your stomach. Natasha's touch is like electric to your skin, each thrust building to a crescendo at your core.

"Come on, angel," the redhead whispers. "Show me just how pretty you are when you cum."

Her words, alongside one last thrust of your hips is enough to send you toppling over that edge. Your moan is drawn out loudly as you feel yourself come undone, eyes slamming shut as you grip hold of Natasha's shoulders. Your body arches in to her, letting Nat take advantage of your chest with her mouth once more as her fingers ride you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," you breathe, finally starting to come down from your high. You open your eyes once more to see Nat smirking up at you, letting go of your nipple between her teeth as both of her hands now rest on your waist. As your mind clears, you let yourself begin to fall back down on to her lap, but when you accidentally land directly on her thigh, you feel a shock sent through your core. You wince, immediately lifting yourself back up at the sensitivity.

But Natasha seems to have other plans. "Shh, angel. It's okay," she murmurs as her hands grip harsher on to the skin of your waist. She begins to push you back down, eliciting a gasp as your sensitive core connects again with her leg. You squirm a little in the position, fighting ever so slightly against Natasha as she tries to drop your full weight on to her. "Just sit on my thigh," she drawls, hands guiding you down. "Just like that, there you go."

The position hikes your tight skirt all the up to your waist, completely exposing your cunt as it comes to rest against the bare skin of Natasha's thigh. You're pathetically wet against her, cum still dripping out your core from your previous orgasm. But if anything, Natasha only seems to enjoy the way you soak her skin, smirking up at you as her hands begin to direct you once again. Her movements force you to rock back and forth slowly, your slick coating the skin of her leg beneath you. The wave of pleasure that comes from the movement sends a moan tipping out your mouth, your head falling back as your clit throbs with each brush against Natasha's thigh.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the redhead beneath you husks, still guiding your movements. It takes all your focus to nod your head. "Mhm?" Natasha questions, her voice purely laced with amusement. "You're such a good girl. Just keep grinding on me, just like that."

You feel the rockstar's hands disengage from your waist but your movement continues, encouraged by her words and praise. You watch between fluttering eyelashes as Natasha reaches to take off her bra, tossing it aside and revealing her perfect tits to you. Then, you see as her hands moves to undo her shorts, opening each button before her fingers disappear beneath the waistband of the black denim.

You hold back a whine as you see her face contort, only imagining what her fingers may be doing under the material of those shorts. "God, you're making me so wet," the redhead breathes, reaching up to place a kiss on to your pouting lips. You release a whine into her, muffled by her tongue lapping over your own. "Such a pretty girl," Natasha mewls when she pulls away, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw. "So pretty just for me. Wanna see how wet I am for you?"

You feel yourself nodding as you look into her green eyes, turned even more on by the concept of Natasha getting off just by looking at you. The redhead removes her fingers from beneath her shorts before bringing them up to your face, letting you view the soaked digits momentarily before pressing them up to your lips. You take in her fingers welcomely, humming around them as you let the taste of her coat your tongue.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Natasha husks, sounding about as love-drunk as you felt sucking on her fingers. She lets you lap them up a moment longer before pulling them from your lips with a pop. Then, you watch as she dips them back below her shorts, moaning softly at the contact it makes on her hidden centre.

Your eyes feel almost transfixed on the hand concealed beneath the material of Natasha's black shorts. The only true indication of whatever her fingers are doing comes from the delicate hums and sighs that escape the redhead's lips. The sight alone is enough to make you grind your cunt harder against her thigh, desperately trying to ease the heat growing there.

The rockstar notices your attempts becoming more determined, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your own needy mewls drip from your tongue. "Are you gonna cum on my thigh baby?" she asks, smirking widely.

You grind faster against her, trying desperately to chase your high but it feels like it's never coming. "I can't," you whine, hopelessly rutting atop of her.

"You can," Natasha nods.

"Mm-hm," you hum, shaking your head. Your fingers grip harder into her skin, the feeling between your legs never quite reaching that peak you're seeking out.

"You can, baby," Natasha replies quickly, voice assertive. "Look, just like this." You feel her hands come to rest upon your ass, fingers gripping into the soft flesh before she begins to rock you once more. With her guidance, you follow a more structured pattern, your clit brushing perfectly against her thigh with each rock of your hips. "There you go," the redhead hums, watching your face screw up in pleasure at the newfound rhythm. Moans begin to cascade from your lips in desperate tones as each new thrust sends you closer to that edge. The way Natasha guides you sends perfect waves of pleasure through your entire body, your hands pressing into her shoulders to try ground yourself in the high. When you feel her fingers join in on the equation, your cries turn ever more lewd, her hand placed so that your clit brushes directly over her calloused tips each time you rut your hips.

"Come on baby girl," you hear Natasha husk, her face close to yours. "Cum for me. You can do it. Cum all over my thigh."

One more thrust sends you hurtling over the edge, screaming out as you feel a gush of warmth flooding onto Natasha's leg. Your arms wrap around her head, anchoring yourself in as you ride out your high, mewling choked moans into the redhead's ear. Natasha guides you through the orgasm once more, still slowly guiding your hips to an eventual stop. When you finally emerge from the crook of her neck, you're panting.

The rockstar admires the way your chest rises and falls, the green crystal still hanging around your neck, nestled in the valley of your breasts. "God, you're so fucking perfect," she husks, drinking in your figure. "I could get addicted to the way you look falling apart for me."

You don't say anything in response as you still try to calm yourself from the high, head feeling fuzzy as you look back at the redhead. She smirks widely as she watches you, utterly obsessed with the way you look sat on top of her, eyes glazed over in residual pleasure.

A single one of her fingers comes to swipe up some of the cum you've left slathered on her thigh, purposely brushing slightly over the top of your bruised clit just to watch you squirm a little before bringing her hand up to her own mouth. She practically laps up the stickiness coating her finger, humming lowly as your cum trickles down her throat. "God," she breathes, letting her finger fall. "I wish I had my strap so I could fuck that sweet little pussy of yours." You whine on top of her, still too inebriated to form a real response. Natasha only chuckles at your intoxication. "Would you like that, pretty girl? Like me to fuck you till you can't even think anymore?"

"Uh huh," you nod, already fantasying the image inside your head.

Natasha laughs again, tilting her head as she watches your face. "You're so cum-drunk right now I think you're already half way there. Isn't that right?" A low sound in the back of your throat is the only response, heightened when you feel Natasha's lips connect with your neck. She sucks as the soft flesh, glazing over the burn with her tongue. She stays there a moment, clearly leaving a mark on your skin that you have no idea how you'll cover up tomorrow. But quite frankly, you don't even care.

When Natasha pulls away, she notices how that glaze has left your eyes, your consciousness returning finally after your last climax. She smirks, eyeing you with that mischievous look as her face comes to rest near your cleavage, placing a chaste kiss to your sternum before looking back up. "You want me to empty that pretty head of yours some more?"

You're barely able to focus on her words as she lets her tongue circle around your nipple. In the end, you don't answer her question, simply whine as her teeth tease at the hardened bud. "Tasha-"

The nickname slips from your tongue almost too easily, your brain not even recognising it. Natasha, however, does, and she can't believe how amazing it sounds coming from your mouth. "Fuck," she whispers, coming face to face with you again. She looks into your eyes for a long moment before she begins to shift her body, turning yours with it. "Lie down for me, baby," she murmurs, twisting your body to lay down on the couch beneath you. "Just like that."

You let her manoeuvre you to the perfect position, arching slightly as the cold leather of the couch hits your back. Lying back, you watch as Natasha leans over you, placing a few quick kisses to your neck before travelling lower. When she reaches your waistline, her fingers work to unzip the skirt still clinging to your waist. She makes light work of undoing it before beginning to pull it down your legs, placing kisses on your warm flesh as she goes. When the article is tossed aside, the rockstar begins to unfasten the boots still tied to your feet. She removes them quickly, laying them aside and soon letting her own join them.

Then, you watch in awe as the redhead slowly slips her fingers into the waistband of her own shorts, almost making a show out of it as she slips the garment down. Shorts and underwear go at the same time as Natasha strips herself in front of you, smirking as she notices the way you stare. Your eyes never leave her as her body moves back towards the couch, coming to a rest above you as her knees straddle your waist. "You're so hot," you all but mumble, mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

Natasha simply chuckles lowly at your response. "Give me your hand," she says, reaching out towards your wrist. You let her take hold, watching intently as she guides you between her legs. She runs your fingers methodically through her folds, gasping quietly as the touch. She's soaked, slick coating your digits, probably residual from where she had been touching herself earlier. "You feel that? It's all for you, baby." Natasha hums as she guides your hand through her core. You can't help but let your own little noises slip, feeling just how wet she is beneath your touch. Your fingers curl at the ends, dipping into Natasha's centre before you pull them up to rub at her swollen clit. "Ah, fuck," the star moans, pinching her eyes closed. She lets you play with her a bit longer before she eventually pulls your hand away, letting it drop to your side. Instead, she reaches the hand she was using to guide you under your right thigh, squeezing into the flesh gently. "Lift your leg for me," she says, pulling upwards on your thigh.

You let her manoeuvre your leg, holding it up to the side while she adjusts her own body. You watch as one of her legs hooks over your waist, angling herself so that her core is directly above your own. When she sinks down to meet you, a lewd gasp sounds from your mouth, the new sensation electric against your skin. Natasha's cunt is wet against your own, accentuated by the cum that sill coats your sensitive folds.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, entirely in awe at the new feeling of the redhead against you. The star smirks down at you, letting your legs fall back into a relaxed position as she anchors herself to your hips with her hands. When she begins to move against you, the loud moans that escape you coat the entire room.

Her clit brushes beautifully against your own as Natasha rocks her hips back and forth, the noises of your combined wetness thick in the air. "Fuck, you feel so good," the redhead moans out, her own breath becoming shallow as she rolls against you. It doesn't mean that she lets her guard down entirely though, quickly noticing when your head lolls to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. "Eyes on me, beautiful," she directs, reaching out to grasp your face.

You let her turn your chin as you open your eyes back up, drinking in the sight in front of you. Natasha rocks back and forwards against you with a perfect rhythm, her tits bouncing with each new thrust. Natasha sees you watching and reaches for your hands, guiding them up to plump flesh of her chest. You squeeze roughly, savouring the delicate moans that spill from the rockstar's lips.

"God, you're so hot," the redhead murmurs between heavy breaths. "I just can't get enough of you. Maybe I'll just have to bring you along on tour with me, let you be my little groupie."

You moan loudly, not only from the way Natasha's cunt grinds over your swollen clit, but also at the teasing voice and notion of her words. Natasha smirks down at you. "You like that idea, huh?" she husks. "You wanna be my little groupie who I fuck like this after all my shows?"

You don't have the ability to form a response to her, merely putting all of your energy into chasing your combined high. Your back arches off the cold leather of the couch as you try your best to rock your hips against the rockstar's, listening to the sound of your wet cunts grinding desperately against one another. When a particular thrust bumps across your clit, a whine sounds low in the back of your throat. "Tasha-"

The nickname does wonders once again in Natasha's mind, sounding so sweet lacing your tongue. "Fuck," she murmurs, trying to keep up her pace. "I want you to say my name like that when you cum baby, okay?"

You nod weakly, chest heaving. "Good girl." Natasha bucks slightly as your clits brush over one another, her legs twitching by your sides. "Fuck."

The two of you continue to rock against one another, your moans harmonising together as you both climb closer to your climax. Your hands rest upon Natasha's full thighs, gripping for support as the pleasure rolls over you in waves. She clasps at your waist, feeling the thin layer of perspiration coating your skin.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me," Natasha finishes, thrusting into you. You do as she says and let that coil loose in your stomach, letting your orgasm shred through you as you all but scream out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tasha."

Her name dripping from your lips sends the redhead over the edge too, rutting against you as she cums hard. "Shit," she mumbles, riding her wave as the combination of your juices blends together and soaks both of your legs.

Both of your bodies tense, movements becoming sloppy as your highs hit. When nearly a minute later, you've both come down from the peak, Natasha slowly untwines your legs from one another. She flops down on the couch beside you, barely enough room for the two of you to lie next to another. For a while you two sit with the combined sounds of your own heavy breaths, both of your bare chests heaving in the warmth of the room.

"Oh my god," you manage to slip out, finally aware of how you've just had the best sex of your life. Nothing could ever compare to what Natasha had just done to you, no other partner ever even coming close to making you cum that hard.

Natasha seeks amusement in your blown out state, clearly enjoying the revelation painted on your face. She rolls her head towards you, her signature smirk making one final appearance. "I told you, you wouldn't regret coming back stage with me."

Your head turns towards her, meeting her widened eyes still dark with lust. You almost want to tell her she's wrong, that all your avoiding earlier had been the right path you go down, but you know it's all bullshit. She was right, there wasn't a single ounce of regret in your bones.

Natasha smiles at your clear agreeance, almost smug in the way she licks her lips. She props herself up on to one arm, leaning over you with those dark emerald eyes. Her fingers come to find the crystal hanging around your neck, rolling the stone between her fingertips as she smiles deeply. Then, she turns back to you, looking as sly as she first had back in that bathroom stall. "Now," she drawls. "About that groupie thing..."

[pucksandpower]

Lost in Translation

Lando Norris x Reader + Carlos Sainz x Reader + Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: in which Lando doesn’t speak a word of Spanish, Carlos turns out to be the world’s worst translator, and Fernando is an opportunist

Warnings: manipulation

The bass thumps through the walls as you make your way through the crowded club, dancing bodies packed together under pulsing lights. You’re exhausted after a long day of photoshoots, but your agent insisted you make an appearance at this exclusive afterparty following the Spanish Grand Prix. Being seen is part of the job when you’re an up and coming model.

You spot an open stool at the far end of the bar and gratefully sink onto it, kicking off your heels under the counter. The bartender appears through the chaos, shouting something in English you don’t understand over the music. You shake your head apologetically and order in Spanish.

“One glass of red wine, please.”

As you wait, you glance around the club. Famous faces from the world of Formula 1 mix with socialites and celebrities. You recognize a few drivers and team bosses, fresh from the race.

Your gaze lands on a young man seated a few stools down, wearing a McLaren team jacket. His curly brown hair falls softly over his forehead as he leans against the bar, engrossed in his phone. Something about him looks familiar.

“Here you go.” The bartender sets your drink down. You smile your thanks and take a long sip, letting the bright aged flavors wash over your tongue. The alcohol warms your limbs, relaxing away the strains of the day.

You’re debating whether to stay for another drink or head back to your hotel when you feel the stool next to you shift. The young man in the McLaren jacket takes a seat, flashing you a charming grin.

“Hi there,” he says, his English words foreign to your ears. Up close he’s even more handsome, with lively color changing eyes and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. You don’t understand what he’s saying, but his body language is obvious.

You give him a coy smile in return. “Hello.”

He seems unfazed by the language barrier, launching into a lively stream of English as he signals the bartender for two drinks. You watch his lips form around the exotic words, catching a name here and there.

Lando. McLaren. Spain.

Each syllable musical and indecipherable.

When the fresh drinks arrive, you clink glasses together. The liquor slides down easily, warming your cheeks. You can’t understand Lando, but the spark in his eyes needs no translation. He’s flirting. And you’re enjoying the attention after a long day on your feet.

As the night wears on, you drift closer together, thighs brushing on the stools, hands slyly grazing. The pulsing music and alcohol blur the edges of your thoughts into a pleasant haze. All that matters are Lando’s eyes locked on yours, and the building tension that thrums under his touch.

Eventually he stands, holding out a hand with that charming grin. You don’t hesitate, letting him lead you through the sea of bodies toward the exit, the noise fading behind you.

The cool night air hits your skin as you step outside. Lando hails a cab, and you slide across the backseat, thighs pressed together. His hand comes to rest on your knee and you lace your fingers through his, exchanging coy glances in the darkness.

When the cab stops at your hotel, Lando insists on walking you to your room. As you step into the lobby, the bright lights feel harsh after the dimness of the club. Lando’s hand rests lightly on your lower back, guiding you towards the elevators.

In the mirrored walls of the elevator, you catch sight of your smudged makeup and tousled hair. Lando stands close behind you, eyes trailing over your figure in the reflection. You feel a flush rising on your cheeks that has nothing to do with the wine.

The walk down the plush hotel hallway feels endless, heightened by anticipation. Your hands brush and you exchange coy glances, the flirtatious tension building. At last you stop outside your door. Hands fumbling, you slide the key card into the lock while Lando waits eagerly beside you.

As soon as the door clicks open, his mouth is on yours. You melt into the kiss, the taste of liquor sweet on his lips. Stumbling backwards, you lead him into the room, fingers tangled in his soft curls.

You come up for air long enough to kick off your heels. Lando’s eyes blaze with desire as he shrugs off his jacket and reaches for you again. You meet him halfway, lips fused together, hands roaming. The backs of your legs hit the bed and you tumble backwards, pulling him down on top of you.

You lose yourself in the feeling of his body against yours, hard muscle under smooth skin. Gasps and moans fill the air as clothes are discarded piece by piece onto the plush carpet. The rest of the world fades away until all that’s left is skin on skin, racing heartbeats, the slide of sweat-slick limbs.

After, you lie tangled together as your breathing slows, floating back down to earth. Lando traces lazy patterns on your arm as you drift towards sleep, spent and sated.

The morning sun streaming through the curtains wakes you. For a moment you’re disoriented, then the memories of last night come flooding back. You stretch and roll over, expecting to find Lando, but the other side of the bed is empty.

You sit up, holding the sheet around you, and spot him standing by the window on his phone. He glances over at you with a sheepish smile. “Good morning,” he says.

You return the greeting in Spanish, then pause, realization dawning. Now, in the harsh light of day without the haze of alcohol, the language barrier stretches wide between you.

Lando seems to have come to the same conclusion. He looks at you helplessly and says something in English you don’t understand. You shake your head and respond in rapid Spanish, trying to explain that you don’t speak his language. But your words have no more meaning to him than his do to you.

You both stare at each other in bewilderment. Last night things had seemed so simple, but now you have no way to communicate. Lando runs a hand through his hair in frustration. You wish you could bridge the gap between you, but Spanish and English remain foreign tongues.

After a few more failed attempts at conversation, Lando pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his contacts, then seems to find what he’s looking for. Putting the phone to his ear, he says clearly, “Carlos, mate, I need your help.”

***

Lando lowers the phone from his ear just as a knock sounds at the door.

“That was fast,” he says with a relieved grin, crossing the room to open it.

You quickly pull on a hotel robe and smooth your tangled hair as much as possible. From the bed, you watch as Lando ushers another man into the room. He’s tall and handsome, with warm brown eyes and an easy smile. Something about him seems instantly familiar and trustworthy.

“Carlos, this is ...” Lando pauses and glances back at you with an apologetic look, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“My name is Y/N,” you offer, giving the newcomer a small wave.

His face lights up in recognition. “Y/N Y/L/N! The Spanish model!”

You flush, surprised and flattered that he knows who you are. Before you can respond, Carlos turns to Lando and launches into rapid English. Though you don’t understand the words, his tone sounds polite yet teasing, making Lando blush faintly.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Lando mutters, running a hand through his curls. “Just tell her I’m happy to meet her and I had a great time last night.”

Carlos nods and looks at you with a hint of mischief in his warm brown eyes. “He says you are very boring and he regrets last night, but wants to let you down gently.”

You frown in confusion. That didn’t sound like a compliment at all. Lando is watching you expectantly, oblivious.

“Tell him I don’t understand why,” you say carefully.

Carlos turns back to Lando. “She says you’re an arrogant prick and she wants you to leave.”

“What?” Lando looks taken aback. “Where did that come from? Tell her I’d love to get to know her better over breakfast or something.”

“He says it was nice of you to help scratch his itch last night but he has better options,” Carlos tells you bluntly.

You fold your arms across your chest, irritation flaring. The flirtatious spark between you and Lando last night seems to have vanished in the light of day, replaced by this stilted miscommunication.

Lando’s brows knit together as he tries again. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended her in some way. Let her know I’d like the chance to make it up to her before I go.”

Carlos’ expression softens as he turns to you. “He says you aren’t bad to look at and you not being able to speak English is a bonus because that means he doesn’t have to listen to you talk.”

You nod slowly as anger takes over. “Tell him I want him gone now.”

“She says you’re the stupid one for thinking she wanted anything from you other than your money,” Carlos tells Lando.

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets, looking disappointed. “I-I thought we had a good connection.”

A hint of steel enters Carlos’ eyes. “He says that if he wanted a gold-digger, he would at least choose someone who looks good on his arm.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. Why would he say such a terrible thing? Anger replaces any lingering attraction you felt for Lando. You turn away, fists clenched, humiliation burning in your cheeks.

Lando looks utterly confused. “What … I don’t … Carlos, what is going on?” He stammers helplessly.

But Carlos is already at your side, murmuring comfortingly in Spanish as he guides you toward the door. “Don’t pay attention to him, he’s not worth it. Come with me.”

You let Carlos wrap a supportive arm around your shoulders, tears of frustration pricking your eyes. With one last glare at a dumbfounded Lando, you sweep out of the hotel room.

As Carlos leads you down the hall, you lean into his side, reassured by his solid presence. “Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. “I just don’t know why he was so mean ...”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says with a wink. Whatever just happened between you and Lando, you’re grateful to have found a quick friend in Carlos.

And judging by the sparks you felt when he first said your name, perhaps he could be something more. For now, you push that thought aside, the day has already had enough drama.

***

The weeks following the awkward encounter with Lando fly by in a whirlwind of model castings, photoshoots, and fashion shows. But you find your thoughts continually drifting back to Carlos and his warm brown eyes.

When he calls you up and invites you to the upcoming Austrian Grand Prix as his guest, you happily accept. The chance to get to know him better away from the drama with Lando is too tempting to pass up.

The paddock thrums with excitement on race day. You smooth down the skirt of your flowy sundress and take Carlos’ arm as he guides you through the bustling team garages toward the pit lane. Your heels click sharply on the pavement, echoing the anticipation building in your chest.

Mechanics and engineers pause in their work to glance your way appreciatively. You flush under their gazes but keep your chin high. On Carlos’ arm, you feel like you belong.

As you near the bright papaya of the McLaren garage, Carlos casually steers you down a side path to avoid walking right by. You feel a twinge of relief not to chance running into Lando. That awkward morning is firmly in the past.

But as you round a corner, you find yourselves face to face with him. Lando stops short, eyes widening. For a moment, the three of you stand frozen. Then Lando breaks into a tentative smile.

“Y/N! I didn’t realize you’d be here. You look lovely.” His English words sound friendly enough, but you cling tighter to Carlos’ arm, waiting for the translation.

Carlos’ expression remains neutral. “He says your dress is too tight and it’s not a flattering look.”

You gasp, stung by the insult. All your insecurities about your body that you constantly fight to overcome as a model come flooding back at his cruel words.

Lando’s brows furrow in confusion, clearly sensing Carlos’ interpretation was off. “No, I just said she looks nice ...” He turns his attention to you, eyes pleading. “Y/N, I’m so sorry about what happened last time. I’d love the chance to take you out properly while we’re both here this weekend.”

Suppressing a smug smile, Carlos translates for you. “He says that while you’re not his first choice, you are easy in bed and he would like for you to come to his suite this evening.”

Tears of humiliation spring to your eyes. You stare at Lando in shock, feeling betrayed. Attraction turns to disgust in a heartbeat. How could you have ever felt a connection with someone who views you as nothing but an object for pleasure?

Lando is shaking his head frantically, obviously bewildered by your reaction. “I don’t know what you’re telling her, but this is not what I said!” He reaches out imploringly but you recoil from his touch.

He steps towards you but is cut off as your stiletto slams down hard onto his foot. He yelps in pain, hopping back. The slap of your palm across his cheek echoes through the empty side path.

“You are a disgusting pig!” You spit at him in your native Spanish. With a dramatic flip of your hair, you spin on your heel and storm away, fuming. Behind you, Carlos scrambles to catch up.

“Y/N! Wait!” Hearing his familiar voice, your rage melts. You pause, sniffling, and let Carlos pull you into a comforting hug.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, gently stroking your hair. “Lando is an idiot.”

You nod against his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut to hold back tears. Carlos’ steady presence soothes you. As your breathing finally calms, a voice speaks up from behind.

“Such dramatics!”

You turn to see Fernando Alonso striding towards you, an amused smile on his handsome face. He nods at your foot.

“That was quite the stomp you gave Lando back there,” he remarks with a chuckle. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, hermosa.”

You can’t help but smile back shyly. Of all the people to witness your outburst, it had to be your longtime idol in Formula 1.

“I’m sorry, I thought he said something rude about me,” you explain with an embarrassed wince.

Fernando waves his hand dismissively. “No need to apologize. I could tell something was getting lost in translation between the three of you.”

He shoots Carlos a pointed look. Carlos shrinks back and avoids Fernando’s gaze, shuffling his feet.

“Those younger drivers are still boys when it comes to women,” Fernando continues, turning his attention back to you. “You deserve better than to be caught in the middle of their silly games.”

His worldly confidence and flattering words make you flush. Glancing between Fernando and Carlos, you start to question the latter’s intentions. Did he mistranslate on purpose back in Spain to drive a wedge between you and Lando?

Fernando seems to read your uncertainty. He extends a hand to help you to your feet.

“Why don’t you walk with me instead of these children? I can show you what a real man looks like.” The challenge in his daring smile quickens your pulse.

You let him pull you up, feeling your anger over Lando’s remarks transforming into starstruck awe.

As he starts to lead you off, Carlos finds his voice again. “Wait, Y/N, please ...” he calls after you, distraught. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I care about you!”

But Fernando silences him with a scornful glare. “Don’t waste your breath. You had your chance.” With that, he guides you away, leaving a crestfallen Carlos behind.

Adrenaline courses through you at the unexpected turn of events. The paddock seems to part around you as Fernando walks with you, head held high. His hand on your back feels possessive in a thrilling way.

When curious eyes drift your way, Fernando pulls you tighter to his side in a clear message — she’s with me. Your heart pounds at the public claim over you.

As you walk, Fernando points out details of the garage and pit activities, answering your stream of awed questions. His deep knowledge amazes you as he describes complex race strategy like reading a storybook.

The command he wields here is clear. And by sticking close, some of that power transfers to you. Other women eye you enviously as you pass. For the first time, instead of feeling exposed in their judging looks, you feel empowered.

With Fernando, you have nothing to prove. He sees you, not as a dumb model or conquest, but an equal worthy of respect. When you hesitantly voice that thought, he smiles.

“Too few of the idiots here appreciate women for their minds,” he agrees. “But I enjoy a sharp intellect as much as beauty.”

You practically glow at the validation. Any lingering hurt or anger melts away, replaced with lightness.

Maybe things will work out just as they should after all.

***

The rest of the season and off-season flies by in a whirlwind of excitement and new experiences with Fernando. When he asks you to accompany him to the 2025 season opener in Australia, you eagerly accept.

In the months since that dramatic Austrian weekend, your bond has only grown stronger. Fernando makes you feel treasured and respected. Under his wing, you’ve blossomed in confidence.

And that extends to English. Fernando gently encouraged you to start lessons so you could navigate the international world of Formula 1. You dove in headfirst, determined to prove yourself.

Now, as you and Fernando arrive at the bustling Melbourne paddock hand in hand, you can’t wait to show off your progress. Fernando smiles proudly at your enthusiasm.

“Ready to give your English a try, hermosa?” He asks, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

You take a deep breath and nod. The words still feel clumsy on your tongue, but Fernando’s steadying presence emboldens you.

As you approach the row of motorhomes, your strides slow. The last time you saw Carlos and Lando still stings. But with Fernando beside you, you have nothing to fear.

Right on cue, the two young drivers come around the corner. They stop short at the sight of you, eyes widening. An awkward beat passes before Lando breaks the tension.

“Y/N … you look well,” he says carefully. Carlos shifts on his feet but stays silent.

Fernando gives them a curt nod. “Lando. Carlos.” His voice carries a note of warning — don’t try anything.

You lift your chin. Time to take control of this narrative. “Hello Lando. Carlos,” you respond in slow, deliberate English. “I am good. And you?”

They gape at you in surprise. “You’re speaking English now?” Carlos asks. “That’s great!”

You resist the urge to fall back on your native Spanish. Fernando believes in you.

“Yes, I learn,” you tell Carlos. “Fernando helps me … how you say … empower?” You glance at Fernando to confirm you have the right word. His approving smile emboldens you.

Lando looks bemused. “Er, that’s great. Your English is really coming along.”

You frown. The subtle condescension in his tone irks you. Your skills may be basic still, but you deserve respect.

“Do not patronize me,” you say sharply, the unfamiliar words feeling powerful on your tongue. “I am try my best. You just … how you say … celoso?” Again you double check with Fernando.

“Jealous is the word, I believe,” he confirms with a wink.

You grin. “Yes, jealous! You are just jealous of me and Fernando.”

Lando holds up his hands in protest. “No, that’s not it at all, I’m happy for you ...”

But you barrel on, relishing this opportunity to at last be understood. “You think I am just a model, not smart. But Fernando show me I can be smart AND beautiful.”

You take a deep breath before delivering the final blow. “He says I have … potencial. He believes in me. Not like you two boys.”

Crossing your arms, you stare them down defiantly. The speech leaves you feeling bold and powerful, despite the clumsy delivery. Fernando squeezes your shoulder proudly.

“I think that sums it up nicely, querida,” he praises. “Shall we?”

You nod and let him guide you away, confidently walking past a stunned Lando and Carlos. Their widened eyes follow you, seeing you clearly for the first time.

Once out of earshot, Fernando pulls you into a passionate kiss. “I am so proud of you,” he murmurs. “You found your voice today.”

You cling to him, heart soaring. With Fernando, you have grown more in these few months than in years past. He never doubted you could reach higher and fulfill your potential.

Your moment is interrupted by enthusiastic shouts in Spanish. You turn to see your family rushing over, eager for their long awaited reunion.

Laughing, you break from Fernando’s embrace to greet them. As you chat animatedly in your native tongue, you feel Fernando’s admiring gaze on you.

Later, in a quiet moment together, he brushes a strand of hair from your face tenderly. “You contain multitudes, Y/N,” he remarks. “Never let anyone put limits on you.”

You snuggle closer, overflowing with love and gratitude. With Fernando, the possibilities seem endless. He believes in the woman you have always been and the woman you are becoming, and gives you strength.

Whatever the future brings, you know you will soar.

[yeeterthek33per]

Bound (to happen) (Steph Catley x Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Content/Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, restraints, r being tied down, bottom r, top Steph and Caitlin, strap use, oral r giving and receiving etc.

(This took a much more different and dirty turn than I initially planned this to go but the request said make it spicy.... so, anyway :) Have fun...? )

The fact you hadn't counted on them doing this really put a wrench in your plans.

The initial plan was to go out, party a little and then go home and get a good nights sleep before the game against Brighton tomorrow.

However, your girlfriends had other ideas.

After a rather surprise appearance by one of your childhood best friends, Anna, you'd ended up a little inebriated dancing with her, laughing and drinking.

Caitlin and Steph themselves don't drink much or if at all knowing they'll be starting tomorrow, and also know one of them will be driving home after this.

Of course, that's the plan until they see you practically grinding on someone.

They weren't an overtly jealous pair, knowing more often than not that you were affectionate with most if not all of your teammates and close friends.

However, they had no idea who this woman was, only that you'd jumped into her arms the moment she tapped you on the shoulder.

Quite literally.

It goes on for an hour before they've had enough of the touchiness coming from both of you.

You're about to head over to the bar for more drinks when a hand grabbing yours pulls you away from Anna, who looks a little confused and then slight anger at the sudden strangers she didn't know, grabbing you and pulling you into them.

It sobers you up a little but you recognise the warm body you're pulled into and immediately turn around grinning, completely oblivious to the possessive grip you're now being held in.

"Oh! Hi Baby! You guys haven't met yet. This is Anna, she's a childhood best friend of mine!"

You turn back to Anna who's eyeing them both up closely.

"Anna, these two are my girlfriends! I love them both so much, we play football together!"

It's a little slurred and almost drowned out by the blasting music just ten feet from the group of you.

At that, she relaxes and, still eyeing them up, extends a hand out to the two brooding brunettes, noting the tight grips they have on your waist and arm.

Steph steps forward first, gripping the woman's hand tightly and shaking rather stiffly and she has to nudge Caitlin to repeat her actions.

"Nice meeting you, Anna. We really have to be going though, we've got a game tomorrow and we don't want this one too hungover before a match."

You pout at them, looking between them and Anna, before allowing them to tug you away.

But not before offering up your number to catch up later, which Caitlin and Steph both tense up at, which of course, your oblivious self doesn't notice.

In fact, you don't even question them until you're halfway home and sobering up with a water bottle shoved into your hand and a late night sandwich just about forced down your throat.

Noticing their unusually quiet demeanour, you poke Steph's shoulder from the backseat.

"Yes, Y/n?"

Oh.

You're in trouble.

"Did uh... You two okay?"

"Perfect."

The clipped reply makes you shrink a little into your seat and you catch her eye in the rear view mirror. There's a glimmer of something there you don't recognise at first other than mild annoyance.

Caitlin doesn't respond to your question only glancing Steph's way.

Slowly, you put two and two together when you're just about back to your shared home.

"Is this about Anna?"

"We'll talk when we get home."

Sighing softly, you settle back into your seat.

Only, you don't get the chance to say much when you're just about dragged inside and pushed against the entryway wall, two pairs of hands and legs keeping you pinned to the wall.

Suddenly, this night is going much differently than you expected.

"Anna wasn't-"

A hand gripping your jaw makes you close your mouth.

"Say her name again and you won't cum for a month."

Whimpering under their fiery gazes, Steph moves to slip two fingers past your lips while Caitlin tugs at the hemline of the top you're wearing.

Sucking on the intruding digits, not wanting to push their buttons any further, you lift your arms to allow the piece of clothing to be discarded, and then your pants following that.

Now, pressed down onto the bed, stripped bare, one body sitting pinning your hands above you, the other moving about the closet, you're feeling a little nervous.

"You wanted to be little slut at the club with that woman, you can be a little slut for us instead and take what we give you. Can you be a good girl for us?"

Steph's words make you shiver under her, breathing already hitching, finger tips pressing down on the back of your tongue almost forcing a gag out of you and making your eyes water.

She then removes them for a moment.

When you don't answer straight away, you're met with the same fingers gripping your chin tightly to look back up at her.

"Answer me."

"Yes, Steph."

"Good."

She nods, satisfied and gestures to your other girlfriend sitting on the edge of the bed holding a pair of... cuffs?

The younger of the two releases Steph's grip on your wrists only to click them into place above your head.

"Since you can't be good for us lately, we figured a little assistance might be in order. If you're good, we might let you touch later."

The fur covered metal only digs into your wrists enough to provide resistance against any movement outside of their upright position attached together above you, her hands holding the cuffs in place.

Satisfied with your level of restriction, Steph moves to rest between your legs rather than on them.

You're so focused on Steph's movements that you're surprised by Caitlin's sudden presence on the bed once again, this time stripped down to just a sports bra and dildo strapped to her hips.

"You're gonna be a good girl and give us a show, like the good little slut you are."

The tone sends shivers down your spine and you're nodding without even processing too much what was said, though it does leave heat pooling ridiculously fast between your legs.

They'd been like this before but never this dominating and it was making your head spin.

Caitlin manoeuvres so the tip of the strap is pressed against your lips, your head turned accordingly to line up with it.

Slowly, she presses her hips forward, lips parting to accommodate the silicone head.

"That's a good girl."

You have to suppress a keening whine as you start breathing through your nose the deeper she pushes the fake cock.

"Go on then, pretty thing, give us a show."

Doing the best you can with the little leverage you have, you start bobbing up and down (more like back and forth with the way you're currently stuck).

With encouraging hand in your hair, you're being met with an occasional impatient thrust from the forward.

At a particularly rough point, she thrusts and hits the back of your throat harshly and forces another gag from you, at one point even holding your head down on the full length long enough to spring tears to your eyes.

Finally, she let's go and eases off on your head, letting you pull off her with a gasp of air.

"There's a good little slut. Being so good for us."

Steph's words of praise in your ear bring you back to the present.

She'd shifted to a better view point beside you and her hand now has settled on your collarbone, pushing you back flush with the mattress once more.

"Such a pretty little mouth, would hate to see it unoccupied."

Steph gestures to your other girlfriend to shift behind her, between your legs, and you're distracted by the woman stripping down completely, internally groaning at the revealed sight of bare skin and muscle.

Moving your arms so they're relaxed resting on your hips instead of above you, she moves to straddle either side of your head looking down at you with a small smirk.

You whine softly, anticipating getting your mouth on her.

"Ah ah."

She tuts softly when you lean up.

"Beg."

Shivering softly, you lean back to make full eye contact.

"Please Steph, let me taste you."

She raises a brow.

"Please, I need you. I need to taste you. Let me show how good I am."

You whine the last part and she pretends to think for a moment before nodding down at you.

"Go on, baby, you know what to do."

Meeting her halfway down, your tongue dips straight into her and lips wrap around her clit, finally getting a taste of the brunette.

Steph moans above you, hand tangling in your hair with an encouraging tug.

"Fuck, that's it."

Just as you slip your tongue into her, you feel your legs being pushed fully apart and a pair of arms wrap around your thighs, holding them in place.

A mouth on you has your hips canting up against the woman's face and a moan reverberating into the woman above you.

"You make her cum first and you get to cum."

You almost don't hear it with Steph's thighs clamped around your head but as soon as it's out of her mouth and she's returned to sucking your clit, you know she isn't gonna play fair about this.

Moving your tongue, you drag it over her several times, swiftly shaping over her clit and sucking best you can with the little room you have to move your head.

Using every trick you have to make your long time girlfriend cum on your tongue, you can hear her getting more vocal above you.

Curses and praises mixed together angled towards you as she rocks against your mouth, forcing your ministrations to be faster and more harsh on her clit, though you can't find it in you to complain.

You'd gladly spend the rest of your life buried between her thighs, taste exploding on your tongue.

Meanwhile, Caitlin's doubled down on you, her hand slipping beneath her to slide two fingers inside you and to start pumping against your g-spot, angling perfectly while she suctions on your clit.

You can feel yourself soaked on her digits and you realise just how close you are already.

Definitely not playing fair but you don't go down without a hard fight.

Steph's legs just start to shake around you as your stomach starts to clench and you fight off cumming for as long as it takes to ravish the woman sitting on your face.

Surprising yourself, you only let go when you hear Steph's moans peak above you and her thighs clench tightly around you, stomach tightening as she releases onto your tongue, and moan loudly, vibrations pushing her fully over the edge.

Caitlin's movements slow inside you, making small massaging motions to bring you down and your stomach unclenches as well as your legs.

"God baby, so good for us. So good for me, making me cum so well."

She slips off your head leaning down to capture your now very swollen, sex mussed lips with her own, tasting herself on you instantly.

With a small whine as Caitlin runs her thumb over your still sensitive clit, you shift in the cuffs but don't move to touch either of them at all.

Steph notes it with a knowing smirk and more praise spilling from her lips.

"Well done, baby. Trying so hard to be good for us and not move."

When you gasp suddenly, arching your back, Steph looks back and up at the striker now sitting on her haunches between your legs with a raised brow.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

She's got the strap head pressed into you, hips fighting not to completely bottom out in you just yet.

The head alone has you stretched out deliciously and you can barely stop writhing onto the strap.

Steph moves your wrists to back above your head, hand falling to splay across your bare stomach.

"That's it pretty girl, be still for her. It'll fit easier."

Caitlin slowly pushes into your cunt, the shaft stretching you much like the head and when she bottoms out, you can't help the whimper you let out, your eyes rolling back at the feeling.

Steph's other hand leaves your wrists, finding your throat instead, giving a little squeeze as Caitlin pulls slowly out again.

The lack of air makes it a little harder to pace yourself on the stretch when she pushes back in but you find yourself loving every second of it.

Giving a small go ahead nod, followed by a squeaked moan as she starts finding a pace, leaning forward to rest her hands either side of your head as she starts thrusting faster, leaving you keening into the air of the bedroom, head falling back as moans start to fall from your lips louder than before.

"How's she feel, Cait?"

"Fuck so tight, babe."

Caitlin's panting between thrusts, abs clenching with effort as she pushes the strap into you with vigour.

"Taking her cock so well, baby girl."

Her lips latch onto your neck, teeth grazing the skin as she tries to avoid disturbing the other woman's rhythm too much.

You're a whining, whimpering, keening mess underneath them, now straining to avoid moving your hands anywhere other than where Steph left them.

"You gonna be a good girl for us? Stay nice and still while she fucks you? Makes you cum?"

Her fingers tighten around your throat.

"Wanna be so good for you!"

You're moaning in time with the harsh thrusts into you, Caitlin fully pistoning her hips forwards, hands coming to wrap around your thighs, pulling you down onto her with every thrust forward.

"Fuck, pretty girl, taking me so well."

Her eyes train over your sweat sheened form, hands gripping and nails digging into the flesh of your legs, which you're sure will leave bruises later.

Not that you can find it in you to mind all that much.

"Please! I'm so close!"

Looking to Steph for permission, when she receives a nod, she plants herself again, putting a final effort into her hips slapping against yours, the strap massaging your insides perfectly.

You can barely keep up with the feeling her of rutting into you, and the coil in your stomach tightens and then finally snaps when her thumb moves to rub your clit hastily.

Steph watches on, mesmerised with the way your body reacts to Caitlin absolutely destroying you.

Watches the way your mouth drops open in one final silent scream, legs quivering, stomach clenching and unclenching as the woman slows to a mild thrust after chasing her own high.

You're whimpering softly with your eyes squeezed shut after a moment, the sensitivity getting to be a lot.

"That's it pretty girl. So good for us."

Steph mutters the words into your ear, teeth grazing and tugging on your earlobe, before pressing soft kisses across the skin.

Caitlin slides out slowly, careful not to budge you too much as your breathing calms.

Tossing the strap off to the side, your arms are finally able to come to rest on your stomach again still cuffed together, Steph moving to the bathroom to grab a cloth and then downstairs for water.

Steph returns, undoing the water to let you drink while waiting for Caitlin to come back, running the damp cloth over you, soft praises uttered in your ear.

"That's our sweet girl, did so well."

After a brief moment of shuffling around, you hear the younger of the two yell out from the closet.

"Babe, where's the keys?"

"I thought you had them."

"...."

"Cait.."

"....Uh?"

Steph's head whips to the open closet doorway.

"They should've been in the packaging, check in there."

"..."

Another moment of some shuffling.

"We threw out the packing yesterday, didn't we?"

"CAITLIN JADE FOORD."

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

[vigilante-3073]

Fast Car

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: The three times that Sam watched Dean and Y/N sing along to one of their favorite country songs and the one time he didn't.

TW: Pre-established relationship, fluff, dancing, kissing, marriage and children.

Sam sat at a small table in the corner of the crowded country bar as he looked through news stories on his laptop. They had just finished a case in Oklahoma and Sam had the responsibility looking for their next hunt.

He looked up from his screen, eyes quickly finding his brother across the bar. Dean's hands were resting on his girlfriend's hips, holding her close as they sang along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

"You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living."

Dean pulled away slightly, taking her hand and spinning her around with a wide smile. She laughed, leaning into him as he pulled her back in. Y/N had always loved country music and she had been slowly expanding Dean's musical inventory to include her favorite songs.

Fast Car had quickly become their song and they couldn't go on a road trip without playing it at least once. Sam couldn't bring himself to be annoyed because of how happy it made his brother.

How happy Y/N made his brother.

They were perfect together and there would always be a part of Sam that hoped to find a love like that again after he had lost Jess.

Dean's hands slid from her waist into the back pocket of her jeans as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There was something almost sad about the song, it was something that he and Dean would probably never be able to experience.

A simple life.

Settling down and starting a family.

And Dean deserved it more than anyone in the world.

...

The impala sped down the highway, the music was blasting and the windows were rolled down. Sam sat in the backseat, staring out at the vast field that ran alongside the highway.

The summer air was hot and the roads were empty as they drove back to the bunker after a successful hunt.

Y/N was in the front seat, body turned towards Dean as they sung along to the song.

"So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."

Dean looked over at her, watching the wind blow her hair around as he drove. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her over to his side before his eyes returned the road ahead of them.

Sam watched them for a moment, smiling to himself as Dean drummed his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

Y/N turned her head, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. He smiled, thumb stroking across the material of her t-shirt fondly.

She rested her head down on his shoulder, hand resting on his knee as she listened to him sing along to the music.

...

Sam made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen after his run, glancing at his watch with a frown as he paused in the doorway.

Music was blaring from Y/N's speaker as her and Dean moved around the kitchen making breakfast. Y/N chopped up strawberries on a cutting board while Dean flipped a pancake in a pan with bacon crackling away on another burner.

Dean suddenly turned towards his girlfriend, using the spatula as a microphone as he sung to her.

"You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs."

Y/N smiled widely, abandoning the knife on the cutting board before singing the next line into the spatula. Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around before pulling her back against his chest.

Y/N laughed, hand resting on his forearm as they swayed together. Dean spun her back around before releasing her with a wink.

He turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before sliding over to his girlfriend and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His hands found her hips before pulling her away from her cutting board and into his arms. Dean spun her around in his hold, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist before guiding them in a few practiced steps. He held her close to himself, singing along loudly before pulling away and spinning her around.

Dean pulled her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple before sweeping her back into their dance.

They glided around the room, he spun her a few more times before wrapping both of his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss.

Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair before they reluctantly broke apart and returned to their tasks.

Their relationship almost seemed effortless to Sam.

It was almost like everything else faded away when they were together. It was the purest form of love that anyone could hope to find in this messed up world.

...

Dean turned off the television, tossing the remote aside with a sigh, "Nothin' on, buddy," He muttered, looking down at the Terrier mix who blinked up at him from the floor. Dean grabbed his phone from the coffee table, clicking the power button and feeling relieved when he didn't see any notifications on his screen.

Sam was supposed to come over for dinner to see some of the renovations that Dean had done on the new house. Dean still couldn't believe how many changes had occurred in the last few years.

Dean had made the decision to leave hunting behind and finally made a life for himself. Sam was finishing up a quick case a few states over before going into his own version of hunting retirement. They had both given so much of their lives to hunting and now it was time to live for themselves.

Dean looked over at the bookshelf, his eyes finding the stereo sitting between the books. Dean stood up, making his way over and turning on the power. He flipped through the channels, quickly turning up the volume when he heard the familiar tune start.

"No way," He muttered.

"So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so you can fly away?

You gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way."

He straightened up with a smile, "Baby, c'mere for a minute," Dean called. Y/N made her way into the living room of their home with their daughter held against her side.

"Is that-?" "Yeah... I thought that maybe my two favorite girls would wanna dance," He said.

"Of course," Y/N smiled.

Dean carefully took their daughter from her arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm before holding out his hand.

Y/N rested her hand in his, gold wedding band catching the soft afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.

She wrapped her arm around him, smiling down at their daughter as he guided them around the living room. Dean carefully spun his wife before drawing her back in, singing down to their daughter as they swayed together.

This was the life he had always wanted and now he had it.

His beautiful wife, his baby girl, his brother, a house and the dog.

Dean never would have thought this kind of life would be possible for him and now he couldn't dream of living any other way.

He had everything he could possibly want and he was finally happy.

[acres-of-fuzzy-tomatoes]

Party Pooper || Misa Rodríguez x Reader

Summary: Misa gets jealous when you test her patience during a night out with your teammates.

Warnings: This fic contains smut (minors do not interact), anal fingering, cunnilingus, mentions of double penetration, praise, degradation, light bondage, consensual non-consensual sex (if you squint at the very last line in the fic), fuck buddies with not-angsty feelings, mentions of strap-on use

Word Count -- 6.6k words

The room around you was filled with boisterous laughter, loud Spanish music, and the sound of some dish shattering in the distance. Bodies milled about the room that your team had seemingly taken over, some of which you recognized and others that you didn’t. 

Some people were dancing to whatever strong, musical beat was blasting through the club, grinding and slipping against both friends and strangers. Others, however, were sitting on benches or stools, talking and drinking. While there were many strangers in the building, you were also surrounded by your friends and football teammates from Real Madrid, celebrating a win in Liga A. 

You were exhausted after playing a full ninety minutes of football– your legs ached, as did your stomach and arms. Each part of your body, honestly. Still, the smile etched on your face stayed consistent, even as the rest of your body shook and threatened to give out. 

For fucks’ sake you really wanted a nap.

The longer that you sat down, the more your body refused to move, essentially aching out in protest each time you shifted your weight or stood up. However, you were determined to not be the first to leave what you now realized was a party, not a “little team movie night” as one of your teammates had said when trying to urge you to join them. 

You had been dubbed one of the “lamest people on the team”, known for the way in which you silently, and quickly, left the scene whenever your social battery ran out. It was a joke for your teammates, and you, especially because you knew the reason for why you seemed to leave so early. 

The reason herself was currently sitting across from you at the round table, her arms crossed behind her head. Given her position, it was easy for her to give you glances or smiles without making your teammates suspicious of the number of times you were looking at each other (which was a lot). 

The more alcohol you consumed, the more you really wanted to perform your aforementioned disappearing act and steal Misa away from the party. 

The top that Misa had chosen allowed for a bit of her tanned, toned abdomen to show as she leaned back against her seat. Her lids were hooded, and her eyes were dark, and the smirk which was present on her face simply made you want to pull her in and kiss her until all she could do was kiss back and keep up.

An elbow to your side had your head jerking slightly, completely disrupted from your thoughts. Raso sat next to you, her eyes narrowed at you as her smile widened a little bit. She looked from you to Misa, and you were quick to take her attention away from whatever she was trying to figure out.

“Wah-?” You asked, the singular word only a little slow to exit your mouth. You realized then that you should probably stop drinking if you wanted to have your way with Misa that night. You weren’t in a relationship, but your long history of being fuck buddies with the Spanish goalkeeper meant that you knew that she refused to have sex when she, or her partner, was inebriated beyond the point of giving conscious consent. 

“We are playing ‘never have I ever’, will you pay attention?” This voice came from your other side, where Linda Caicedo sat. The Colombian international had had a little too much to drink, and her usual chill demeanor was breaking away to one which was a lot more giggly and sarcastic. You playfully rolled your eyes at the girl, nudging her back with your elbow before leaning forward so that you could hear whatever question was being asked. 

Give it to your teammates to play something as childish as “never have I ever”. The girls had been trying to get any semblance of gossip out of you since you’d joined. You were, as they had oh-so-kindly put it, rather boring, much to everyone’s disappointment. However, while you were supposedly short on any type of drama, you knew that many of your other teammates were full to the brim with secrets and mysteries. What your teammates didn’t know, of course, was that the very bit of drama they were looking for was sitting across from each other at that very table, making awkward eye contact as more and more questions were asked. 

The questions started out relatively simple– never have I ever gotten lost on the way to a match, never have I ever eaten calamari, never have I ever climbed a mountain. Then, the questions began to grow more targeted and, with that, more “juicy”. As always, you felt yourself being sucked into the anticipatory atmosphere of the rather childish game, just as you had when you’d been in middle school, and high school. 

Never have I ever scored an own goal– this one got quite a few people on the team, many of whom were not happy to be reminded of those particular moments in their careers. 

Never have I ever scored a hat-trick– this one was meant to target the defenders and the goalkeepers whom were around the table. Now, you could see the competitive fire start in your teammates eyes as they had to put a finger down. 

Never have I ever slept with a teammate. ‘

The question came from your side, from the very Australian who had been surveying the tension between you and Misa all those minutes ago. You felt yourself freeze, your eyes involuntarily rising to look at Misa, before you quickly forced yourself to lean back and act nonchalant about the question. 

However, you felt your abdominal muscles tense as you did so. Unfortunately, in your panic, you’d forgotten that your seat did not have anything at your back. The only thing which prevented you from taking an unfortunate fall to the ground was Linda’s arm going around your back and your own arms grasping onto the table, whose surface had become sticky from alcohol. 

A few people laughed at your expense, and you saw Misa laugh as well, which sent what could only be described as liquid fire through your stomach. It was a feeling akin to one you’d felt during training, when someone made a tackle on you just before you were sure to score. As always, you rose to the challenge, to the feeling which you felt so strongly in your core– or, perhaps that was arousal. Both, it was probably both. 

“Sorry– what was the question?” You asked, trying to distract the rest of the table from your near-tumble. As you sat back up, Linda’s arm remained around your back. You weren’t blind to the way that Misa’s eyes remained caught on contact between you and one of your best friends. In fact, her gaze was burning in its intensity– so much so that if looks could kill, Linda would have been 7 feet under (and counting). You tried hard to hide your smirk, thoroughly entertained by the entire ordeal. 

Something which you had learned from sleeping with Misa was that she was jealous– some would even go so far as to call her possessive. You weren’t dating, but she would leave small bruises, hickies, and scratches on you which claimed you as hers. You weren’t dating, but she would become cranky when you flirted with other girls in front of her. The two of you weren’t dating, but when you’d mentioned that you’d once slept with Linda, just before the World Cup and just after she’d scored her first goal for Real Madrid, the girl had become insanely jealous. In fact, the night after you had informed Misa of your one night stand with your best friend, the girl had drawn such whimpers from you

You, on the other hand, weren’t nearly as jealous as the goalkeeper. The girl could flirt with anybody that she wanted, but you knew that it would be your name she would moan just a few hours later, not theirs. You were well aware that she was thinking of you when she was flirting, and how she was only doing it to get you jealous, and that fact alone entertained you more than anything else. 

The girl had discovered certain weaknesses of yours, however. She was aware that a fleeting touch from her hand against your arm, or the feeling of her outer thigh pressed against your own could send your mind jetpacking straight into the clouds. 

You found it hard to focus when she was touching you, especially when she knew what she was doing to you. Misa enjoyed turning your mind to mush with simple touches and words, loved to watch how you tried to focus on whatever was going on around you and how you miserably failed. 

You did, however, relish in the consequences of riling up Misa. You adored the way that Misa was tender with you, the way that she would kiss you like you were her world, her touches gentle and meaningful. You loved the way that Misa could be passionate with you, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you as she yearned to hear each and every moan which tumbled from your mouth, wanted to see the way that your head fell back and your breaths grew whiny as you came. 

You hadn’t riled up Misa in a while, and a part of you was yearning that from her tonight– the marks, the possessiveness which the goalkeeper was known for, the passion. You wanted it all, and Misa’s smirk had become the straw which broke the camel’s back.

“I said…” Hayley began, eyes crinkling at the corners as she seemed to catch on that something was certainly going on between you and the Spanish goalkeeper. At that moment, however, you couldn’t find it in you to care, hanging on to her every word as she repeated the question. “Never have I ever slept with a teammate.”

You allowed a blush to coat your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering as you bit at your lip. Slowly, and almost theatrically, you put your finger down. You didn’t need to look to know that Linda had also put her finger down, along with a few other people around the table. The focus, however, was on you.

“Has tenido- You have slept with a team member? De este equipo? No wayyyy- Linda y tu? Loca. Todo. So crazy, you are crazy.” Before you could stop it, your teammates began to make assumptions, their voices heavy with interest. 

Given that Linda had yet to drop her hand from around you and the way which you were both blushing, the easiest assumptions to be drawn were between the two of you. Of course, they weren’t wrong– you had slept with Linda, albeit more than a year ago. 

However, your current… friend with benefits was across from you, the finger which she had put down going unnoticed by your teammates as they sought to figure out just what had gone on with you and Caicedo. 

Misa was absolutely stewing in her seat, her eyes narrowed and so dark that you nearly couldn’t see the whites of her pretty eyes. Gone was the easy-going persona which had been leaning back in her seat. Now, the girl was leaning forward, the hand which had already been freed as she’d put down fingers was now clenched tightly, so much so that you worried she may cut herself with her nails. Her jaw was set, and it was obvious that the girl was gritting her teeth. Despite how obviously upset the girl was, your insides fluttered in anticipation, and you simply smiled at Misa, as though you’d done nothing wrong.

Misa was fucking livid.

Even as your teammates began to move on, given that neither you nor Linda was saying much about the one time that you had slept together. The damage was done, and you could see it in the way that Misa was looking at you– her livid gaze had you dripping, if you were going to be completely honest. Who could blame you? She looked sexy when she was pissed off. 

A few more questions were prompted, but you were hardly paying attention to them. Your gaze was locked on Misa’s hardened one, and while Misa was figuring out how she was going to punish you for your earlier stunts, you were thinking about how nice Misa’s nipple would feel in your mouth-

Misa got up, barging her way past the teammates who sat to her left as she circled around the table. You felt her before you heard her, in the way that her palm met the skin of your neck as she rested her hand on your shoulder. She leaned in, so much so that you could smell mint and the barest hints of alcohol on the goalkeepers’ breath. 

You were so distracted by those two sensations alone that you nearly missed the words coming out of Misa’s (really pretty) mouth. 

“Nos vamos a ir porque te sientes cansado.” You understood every word, having played in Spain for long enough to understand more than enough Spanish to get by. Despite this, you needed a moment to process what Misa was saying. The sheer dominance in her tone and mannerisms had you clenching your thighs beneath the table and nibbling absentmindedly on your bottom lip. You were lucky that the vast majority of the table was beyond distracted with the current conversation– some dramatic reality television show which the girls were watching together. 

Misa wanted to leave and, of course, she would make you take the blame for it. Only a moment after you processed what the goalkeeper had whispered into the shell of your ear, the girl was standing up to announce it to the rest of your teammates.

“La chica está cansada, I will take her home.” Misa’s voice still dripped with possessiveness and self-assuredness. Usually, it was the kind of tone which would have you drawing away from the other person, annoyed. 

It had the opposite effect, and you allowed Misa to help you out of the stool under the pretense that you were a bit too drunk to stand on your own. Misa’s hand went around your middle, almost the exact same way that Linda had earlier. You two took a moment to say your goodbyes, and Misa’s arm stayed around you the entire time. 

Just before you’d turned around, you caught Raso sending you a wink. 

Misa’s hand splayed out over your side, her fingers stroking over the fabric of your top. As she guided you away from your teammates, goosebumps erupted over your skin. You were sensitive to the other girls’ touch, the bit of alcohol which remained in your system only heightening the feeling. 

The trip to Misa’s car was short, but it seemed like an eternity with the way that Misa was teasing you. Her fingers had begun to wander, going upward to poke at your ribs, before running up and down your side. She was silent as she did so, allowing the hitch in your breath to be heard as her hand left your side to lower itself, sharply squeezing your bum.

“Misa-” You gasped, and you heard the girl scoff.

“Aha, now you want to be saying my name. Earlier, it was about Caicedo, but now that she is gone and you have me, it is all about me.” Misa said, voice thickly accented, as it always became when her feelings were heightened. 

“Misa- It’s you, it’s always been you. Please.” You gasped, as Misa squeezed you again. You were putty in her hands. If Misa had asked you to kneel right then and there, you would have– without question. 

Instead, she drew you over to her car. Despite her obvious annoyance, she opened your car door and helped you inside. Just before she closed it, she planted a soft kiss against your cheek, her hand gently running along your jawline.

“Eres la mujer más bella del mundo.” You swore that you were so close that you were breathing the same air. You were utterly intoxicated, but not by the alcohol that you’d consumed– by Misa’s touch, her eyes, her voice. You swore you were floating as you gently grabbed her sides, tugging her in for another kiss before you allowed her to part from you. She shut the door, and you watched as she rounded the vehicle to go to the driver's seat.

Only once you’d had space from the Spanish girl were you able to decipher what she’d said to you. 

You are the most beautiful woman in the world.

You thought about her words as she climbed into the car, as she shut the door and started the vehicle. You thought about them when she placed her hand on your thigh, as she hummed some Spanish tune which lilted over the radio. 

You are the most beautiful woman in the world– words that you’d never before applied to yourself. You’d never believe yourself to be especially beautiful. Growing up, you’d thought yourself to be nothing more than average. However, when Misa said that you were gorgeous, looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky, you believed them. 

You felt emotions, then, that you’d never felt before. Perhaps it was love, but you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you were ravenous, thirsty for the way which Misa grabbed possessively at your inner thigh. You squeezed your legs together, only for Misa to pull them back apart.

“No, no. You were not shy in the club, do not be shy now.” Misa chastised you, and you now had to keep yourself from letting your head fall back into the headrest. Instead, a groan broke free of your lips, your hand planting itself on top of Misa’s. 

“Misa, por favor. No puedo. I can’t.” “Already begging, amor? I have not touched you. Are you needy already, is this all for Caicedo?” Misa inquired, voice a little bit edged and jagged as she prompted you– not dissimilar to a serrated knife, if you truly thought about it. 

You were tense, trapped within the confines of Misa’s question. If you said yes, she would probably lose her fucking mind and punish you– even more so than she was already planning. If you said no, then you would be giving in, and also revealing that you’d been getting off on the fact that you were making Misa jealous. As much as you relished your pride, you weren’t keen on being edged for a week as you had been in the past by the goalkeeper.

“No, Misa. For fuck’s sake, it’s all for you.” You groaned, giving in. You were absolutely aching, skin almost tingling beneath Misa’s touch. You couldn’t remember ever being so needy, especially in recent months, but here you were, desperate and nearly whiny from just a bit of teasing and “innocent” touching. 

You were so, so thankful when Misa finally pulled into the car park in front of her apartment. 

Given that your relationship was, technically, a secret, you and Misa tried not to touch each other as you made your way towards her front door. Her neighbors should have been asleep, but you could never be too careful. Despite this, every part of you ached to touch the other girl, especially as you felt how shaky you’d become from your time in the car. Your legs felt like lead, threatening to collapse beneath you, and your hands jittered as though you were competing in a Champions League final instead of simply walking into your frequent fuck buddy’s home. 

Misa was on you the second that the door was shut and locked behind her, pressing you back into the wall behind yourself. You hardly heard the soft thump of your back hitting the wood due to the moan you let out as Misa set to kissing at your neck. Her lips nipped and sucked, trailing along your neck in the way she knew would have you melting beneath her touch. 

You’d been together so many times, and each time Misa discovered a new part of you. In a way, Misa had mapped your body out in her mind, traveling paths new and old as she found new ways to have you writhing and moaning her name. 

Your hands met Misa’s hips, pulling her ever closer to you as her own hands ventured beneath your top. Her palms ran along your stomach, up to your ribs, before palming at your breasts over the bra that you’d worn. 

You’d already been wet before Misa had even really touched you, and by now you were sure that you’d soaked through your underwear. Your brain could hardly form a cognitive thought, save for how badly you wanted to-

Misa’s lips were on yours as she pressed against you, her hands having left your shirt. Your breasts felt colder, somehow, without the heat of her hands pressed against them. Her lips were soft against yours, but demanding in the pace at which she kissed you. 

You had no choice but to try to keep up as she sucked your lower lip in between her own, brushing her top teeth against the skin there in a way which had you arching your back, pressing yourself impossibly closer to the goalkeeper.

All the while, Misa had slipped one muscled thigh between your own. She flexed the muscle, making it firmer as she pressed it into you. Almost reflexively, you ground down against it, nearly collapsing inward at the brief bit of friction you were allowed against your aching core. 

Mira’s tongue grazed your lip next, almost working to soothe the spot that had previously been irritated by her teeth. Then, she slipped her tongue into your mouth, exploring and nudging it against your tongue. As she completely took over the kiss, her hand moved to cup your jaw, furthering to deepen the kiss as she tilted your head to the side. 

Your next moan was swallowed by Misa’s mouth as you rolled your hips, grinding down against her leg. Your movements were rapid as you tried to gain relief, and Misa was quick to let go of your jaw. Your head fell backward, against the wall, and you swore you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your mouth opened, and a high-pitched whine tumbled out. So consumed in everything that was Misa, you didn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed over the sheer neediness of the noise.

“F-Fuck, Misa,” You panted, followed by a drawn-out groan of disappointment as Misa grabbed your hips and stilled them, pinning you against the wall. “No-”

“Sí, you have not earned the right to come. Where has my good girl gone, the one who listens to me? The one who behaves?” Misa whispered, leaning in so that she could speak into your ear. Your body yearned to continue rutting against Misa’s thigh, but you resisted the urge to do so out of fear of what Misa would do. 

A pinch at the skin just above your hip had you realizing that Misa wanted you to answer her.

“Here. Estoy aquí, contigo.” If you’d thought speaking in Misa’s native language would have earned you any favors, you were sorely mistaken. The girl made no move to allow you to continue grinding against her thigh, and you whined again. It was pathetic, really, how easily Misa could wind you up and put you back in your place, and damn if it didn’t have your mind reeling for her evermore, “Misa. Please, por favor. I will do anything that you want and more, please just… let me come.”

Misa chucked at that, then. She was so close to you that her breaths brushed against your cheek, and a small part of the side of your neck, tickling the bottom of your ear. Each sensation was beginning to feel nearly overwhelming– between the throbbing between your legs, the hunger in your body for more of whatever the fuck Misa was doing to you, the beatiful pressure of Misa’s body against yours… it was all nearly too much for you. 

“I have barely begun, and you are already begging? Zorrita, such a little slut, hm? Who do you belong to? Remind me, por favor.” Misa’s accent was somehow thicker than ever before, harsh and degrading in ways that had your mind spinning. Despite her words, her fingers had stopped digging into your skin, instead gently rubbing at your sides, helping to ground you and slow your thoughts. She’d also stopped pushing you so harshly into the wall, allowing you to relax into her just the slightest bit more.

You hardly noticed them, but you were thankful all the same. You felt a little bit less floaty, and the contrast between her fingers on your waist and her voice in your ear served to turn you on even more, which you’d thought was impossible. 

The way at which Misa could be so attentive and gentle, whilst also serving to be so dominating and chastising was something which you would only have time to marvel at later. 

“You- you, only you. Please, I didn’t mean it.” Your voice is high-pitched, higher than you think you had ever gone. It’s a plea that falls on deaf ears, though, as you hear Misa scoff. She’s grabbing your thighs, tapping them as she pulls you away from the wall.

As you jump up, the girl pulls you into her, and you naturally wrap your arms around her shoulders. The contact between the two of you is what you’d been craving, another semblance of comfort which further grounded you. 

“You are okay?” Misa asked, kissing your cheek gently as you lay your head against her shoulder. 

“I am okay.” You confirm, twisting your head and kissing Misa’s neck.

The girl nods, although you feel it more than see it as she begins to carry you. It is a path that you know well, and one that the two of you had traveled many, many times before.

Misa kicked her door closed behind you with your foot, carrying you towards the foot of her bed before dropping you down. Your body bounced against the mattress, and your body relaxed into the sheets as Misa’s familiar scent enveloped your being. 

“You know your safe word, yes?” Misa confirmed, tapping your bare thigh once to make sure that you were paying attention. 

“Yes.” You confirmed, and Misa tapped your thigh again.

“Words, mi amor. What is your safe word?” Misa prompted, still standing an appropriate distance away from you. She did this each time you slept together, always making sure that you had established your boundaries before continuing with anything that was going on. It was something that you appreciated, and it was communication which was needed. 

“My safe word is apple,” You began, and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as Misa smirked. You were allergic to apples, something which Misa had only learned after she’d tried making a dish which had apples in it. You had gone into shock, and had had to be brought to the hospital. You’d been given an epipen, but had used the word as your safe word ever since, given that all you’d been able to gasp throughout the experience was the word “apple”.

“If, for whatever reason, I am unable to speak, I tap your outer thigh three times,” You continued, voice unwavering. The words were well rehearsed, but it never hurt to go through your ground rules once more. “And you?”

“Banana,” Misa said, having chosen a fruit as well, since she felt like she had to stay on theme. After all, you were having… very “fruity” sex. The humor of your choice of words had never been lost on you, and had become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you. “If I can not speak, I will tap your outer thigh three times.”

Without further ado, Misa’s hands were on your ankles. She gave you a sharp tug, pulling your entire body across the expanse of her bed, towards her. You let out an unceremonious squeal of surprise, cheeks blushing red at the suddenness of the action as Misa allowed your legs to drop off the edge of the bed. 

The girl moved between your legs, running her hands up your sides before climbing up on top of you. She kissed you, harshly, moving one hand to your jaw to control the kiss once more. She licked into your mouth, exploring and dominating the kiss before separating from you.

Her hands left your body as she sat up, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and tugging it up and over the expanse of her fit torso. Finally, your eyes had the chance to take in Misa’s abdomen in its entirety, which really should have been included in the Wonders of the World. You’d only been graced with flashes of abdomen and muscle throughout the night, and your hands were quick to settle themselves on Misa’s lower stomach as the girl lowered herself back down on top of you. 

“You are so pretty, the prettiest.” Misa praised you, her hands now going to the bottom of your shirt. She tapped your sides, signaling for you to sit up, and you did. The girl tugged your shirt off as well, running her hands up and down your stomach appreciatively as she did so. Her dark eyes took you in, drinking in each piece of exposed skin as though she was never going to see it again. 

She surprised you, then, by moving back and settling herself over your thighs, bending down at the waist. You felt something wet slide against your abdomen, surprising you. Your entire body bolted at the sensation of Misa’s wet tongue licking at your stomach, and couldn’t help the moan which released itself from your lips. Misa took several moments to herself, kissing and licking and sucking at the soft skin of your stomach, cherishing it as she did so.

She began to move up, kissing over your ribs and slowly pushing your bra over your breasts. She kissed at your left breast first, before taking the nipple in her mouth and swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. Your back arched beneath her ministrations, a low groan leaking out of your mouth as one of her steady hands squeezed at your other breast.

“Misa- Misa, fuck.” You whispered, and just as suddenly, Misa was tilting her head up. You looked down, and her intense gaze had you trying to clench your thighs together. The girl felt it, though, given that she was between those very thighs, and smirked.

“Que? Repite, say that again.” Misa said, voice low.

“What…?” You asked, almost wondrously. Even to your own ears, you sounded dazed. 

“Say that again. Who is making you feel like this? Who is making you feel so good, hm?” As Misa speaks, the hand which isn’t still squeezing at your breast is trailing absentmindedly down your abdomen. The touch is distracting, and your body aches to follow it, to arch up into the touch. However, Misa’s body weight on your own prevents you from doing what you wanted to do.

Her hand toys at your waistline, only for a moment, before dipping below the cloth. Her hand is warm, and you think that she’s just teasing you, as Misa is prone to do. However, you were sorely mistaken as the girls’ finger dipped between your folds. A whimper fell from your lips, absolutely desperate and whiny as it was heard by both of you. Misa swiped a finger through your folds, swirling it around your clit– almost playfully, in fact, but stopped, her eyes still on your own.

You whined again, trying to lift your hips to encourage the girl to touch you more. 

“No. Dime quién, who is it? Is it Linda, mm? I do not think so. It is me, say it.” Misa’s accent is thick, littered with Spanish words which you cannot even begin to try to translate. Her words drip with dominance, with possession, and you swore you would do everything and anything in the world for her to continue what she had been doing. At that moment, you were all Misa’s, willing to bend to her every wish and will to get what you wanted.

Nobody had ever drawn these exact sensations and feelings from you, and there was a certain intimacy in the knowledge that only Misa had ever done these things to you.

Oh.

Fuck.

“No, no it’s not Lind-ahhh,” your breath hitched, as Misa slipped a singular digit into you. Despite how wet you were, it was still a stretch, and her thumb worked at your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body which had you squirming beneath the goalkeeper. “Fuck- fuck,”

“Who? Who makes you feel this good?” Misa’s voice absolutely oozed with self-assuredness, almost teasing in the way she curled her finger inside of you. She knew the movement was an incredibly pleasurable one for you, drawing yet another broken whine from you. 

“You, fuck Misa, jesus christ. You, only you– fuck.” 

“Good girl, so good for me, yes? Only for me. You were made for me, a hole to fuck for my fingers, my tongue, my strap.” You whimpered again, unable to even conjure up a verbal response for the goalkeeper. She curled the finger inside of you again before slipping out of you completely.

The absence had you whining, but as Misa rolled off of you, she gently placed a kiss on your lips to silence you.

“Sh, you’ve been so good for me. We would not want to ruin that now, hm?”

You watched as the girl went to her knees in front of the bed, hands finding your thighs before beginning to tug down the piece of clothing which you still had on. Before she’d really begun pulling the piece off of your legs, however, the girl looked at you.

“Can I take this off?” Misa asked you, gently tugging the elastic of your underwear back before letting it snap against your skin. You squealed, and Misa chastised you a little bit, eyes glimmering with an emotion which you were unable to place. “Words, bella, or I stop.”

“Yes, yes. Fuck, take them off!” You were quick to urge the goalkeeper, truly not wanting the night to be over. 

Then, Misa did as she’d already begun to do, pulling your pants and underwear off in one swift motion. You were left bare before her, and tried your hardest to resist covering yourself. For just a moment, Misa sat there and watched you, observant as ever. Her eyes caught on your breasts, and your hardened nipples, on the way that your chest moved up and down with each breath you took. Then, her eyes moved to take in your face, and a smile moved onto her face.

“What?” You asked, a little bit nervous that she was making fun of you when you were most bare and vulnerable. She never had before, always making sure to cherish each part of you, but that didn’t make you any less on edge, especially in this moment.

“I can’t believe that I get to fuck the most beautiful girl in the world.” Misa said. There it was again, the words which had made you swoon before. 

“Oh, stop!” You said, scoffing. 

“Es verdad. It is true. You are gorgeous, I think it every day.” Before you’d ever slept with Misa, you’d never believed her to be such a charmer. You’d been incredibly wrong, as the girl took each small moment to make sure you knew that you were special, loved, and beautiful in every single way.

Your bra was still on, and so you sat up to take it off. After you did so, you leaned forward to curve your fingers along Misa’s jaw, tugging her head towards you. She met you in the middle, kissing you firmly. Then, her hands pushed your shoulders back so that you were flopping back down onto the mattress.

Without further ado, the girls’ face was between your legs. She gave you a few tentative licks, to get used to the sensation, before diving in.

Your hands clenched into the sheets below your body, a wild moan breaking free from your mouth as your back arched upward. Your eyes closed as you pushed your head back into the bed, baring yourself even further as pleasure overcame you.

The other girl sucked your clit into her mouth before she used her hand to slip a finger into you. She curled it as she continued to eat you out, licking at your clit at a steady, vigorous pace which had you seeing stars as she matched it with the finger inside of you.

Then, she was slipping another finger into you. She gave you a moment to get used to the delicious stretch before continuing, curling the fingers deep inside of you in a way that had you swearing. Your mind was far gone, in the clouds as Misa lapped at you.

Suddenly, Misa was changing the pace. She grabbed your ankles and threw them over her shoulders before continuing to lick at you. The new angle gave her more to work with, allowing her to lick into you deeper, and you swore again.

Your knuckles were white from how tightly they were balled into the sheets, and then you felt it. Something was probing at your other hole, and you whimpered. You and Misa had experimented with anal before, and you knew from experience how intensely pleasurable it felt to have a plug in one hole and Misa pumping into you with a strap in the other. 

You could remember a time when she’d been doing that, fucking into you harshly while you had a butt plug up your ass. The sensations you’d felt had had you whimpering, despite the fact that you’d been supposed to be silent– it had been a punishment for running your mouth. Without thinking much of it, Misa had shoved two of her fingers into your mouth, slipping them in so deeply that you’d gagged around the digits. 

You could still remember the words that she’d said to you like it was yesterday, “That is it, taking it like a good girl. Just so greedy, wanting me in every single one of your holes like a cockdrunk whore.” 

The memory of that night was almost similar to this one, as Misa gently worked a finger into your asshole. You whimpered at the burning feeling there, but Misa’s tongue at your clit overcame any semblance of pain which you felt. 

Your moans reached a peak, then, as your thighs trembled helplessly. You’d lost your ability to form words, and you swore you saw white spots crossing your vision as the pressure in your stomach snapped, similar to a coil.

Pleasure jolted throughout your body, up and down your legs, in your belly, pulsating and causing you to buck your hips uncontrollably against Misa’s face, chasing your high. As you came down, however, you couldn’t help but try to wiggle away from where Misa was still licking at you.

The girl allowed you to wiggle, just for a moment, and took your legs from where they had been locked over her shoulders. However, just as she withdrew her finger from your ass, she slipped another finger into your pussy. You moaned, jolting away from the overwhelming sensation, but Misa was quick to pull you back towards her again.

“No, no. You were so eager to be naughty earlier, and now you will pay. You have one more in you, I know that you do.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM ask: if my Kenpachi Count is correct, Gosuke Kiganjo might have been the previous captain of the 11th that Zaraki killed to get his job. Is that the case? How many problems did losing that co-conspirator cause for Aizen? And how much of a grudge did he hold for the big unkillable brute?

(With Reference to This Post and This One) It started with a pair of oranges.

---

It was Monday, November 11th, and like every November 11th, there was a ruckus coming from the 11th division. It was a faint noise largely obscured by distance and the windows that had been closed against the early winter cold, but it was still present as Now-Captain Sosuke Aizen reorganized Former Captain Hirako's office into his own.

He was luxuriating in the task. It was something he'd looked forward to for a long time- getting rid of the complex musical speakers that droned the worst assemblage of noises that apparently qualified as music, and finally installing a proper filing system in it's place was filling Aizen with a profound satisfaction that he assumed was an overture to his inevitable victory.

The way everyone was pointedly referring to him as Captain Aizen because they were trying to memorize the title tickled him a bit too. Perhaps it was vain of him to enjoy it so much but... well, the little theatrical dance of pretending to pretend he wasn't grimacing and playing up the act of Putting On A Brave Face, only for whoever was speaking to try to reassure him that everything would work out, that he was being so brave, and you don't have to do this yourself-

"Oh no, I don't think I could stand leaving it to anyone else!" He'd respond, and the whispers of how Brave and Dutiful and Humble he was slithered through the division...

...An actor can hardly be faulted for enjoying the adulation of the crowd.

"Hey Bos- uh, Captain!" A boy's voice called behind him.

Of course, it helped that Aizen had been blessed with such a stellar supporting actor.

"Can you help me?" now-Lieutenant Gin Ichimaru asked, tugging on Aizen's Haori for his attention like a normal child, something the boy had learned was enormously charming of him. "-I can't get this thing to stay on my arm." he explained, holding up Aizen's old Lieutenant's badge, the slightly oversized sleeves of his Kosode falling back to reveal his toothpick-thin arms.

"Oh dear. That' won't fit you for a few years yet, will it Gin?" Aizen smiled, patting the boys head and kneeling down, tying it one way, failing, trying another, failing again, giving an enormously defeated sigh, going over to Hira- No, HIS desk now! his desk and rifling through the drawers, and came back with a Safety Pin to hold the badge in place.

"...There!" he beamed, patting Gin's shoulder when the badge didn't slide off his scrawny arm. "-Just don't tell Yamamoto-sama!"

Aizen then turned to look over his shoulder down the hall, where no fewer than a dozen faces peeking out of doors and around corners to watch the scene, and held a finger up to his lips with a small wink. The heads vanished with small gasps, charmed chuckles and a few high-pitched teakettle-like outbursts Gin had once aptly described as "Squeeing".

Scene over and Audience satisfied, Aizen closed the figurative curtains and literal door. Suigetsu pinged softly, Illusion activating- anyone listening in wouldn't quite be able to make out the words, but walk away confident that they were only discussing Division Business.

"You're in a good mood!" Gin grinned up at him, noting Suigetsu's call and the invitation to speak freely. "Though I guess it's not a surprise. It's been a very successful week for you!"

Aizen shrugged, just a little bit smug. "I am allowed to enjoy my laurels once in a while, I think."

Gin laughed, and hopped up to sit on the desk, kicking his feet over the footwell as he fished some oranges he'd taken from the commisary out of his pockets. "Speaking of people who have had very... intense weeks, where's old blind bones?"

"Captain Tousen actually insisted on attending the 11th Division Tryouts, even though both Ukitake and Kyorako offered to go in his place so he could rest!" Aizen said, taking one orange for now and another for later- he'd like to have to work through lunch, he was now so burdened with responsibility, a fun little scene he was workshopping in the back of his head. "...I suppose the poor bastard still regards Kiganjo as his responsibility."

"Hm." Gin nodded, mouth full of orange, spiral peel on the desk beside him. Aizen nodded at the peel and pointed at the trash can behind the boy.

"Sorry, Lord Aizen. That might be-' he swallowed, and tossed the peel over his shoulder and into the bin. '-but it could also be tactical. Unohana-taicho attends every year and within arm's reach of her might be the safest place for him right now. Be a shame if he had a turn, you know?"

"It's a damn shame that Kiganjo hasn't had one." Aizen grumbled.

"Yeah I was sure the Menos invasion would be enough to do him and the Loud Idiot from the tenth in." Gin sulked. "Oh well, I suppose it's good we had a trial run- now we know we gotta really ramp up production of Menos."

"Fortune was on our side in that respect." Aizen agreed, examining his first orange for the best place to begin peeling. There was an art to it, and the practice helped maintain his skills. "Maybe fortune will smile upon us again and Kiganjo will fall to some idiot at the tryouts."

He had just found the perfect place to begin when the ambient reiatsu of the Seireitei suddenly shuddered and bowed, like he was standing inside a rubber balloon and could make out the silhouette of someone approaching with a hatpin. Aizen reflexively jammed the orange in his pocket with it's companion as his head swiveled north like an owl. The incoming sharp point of reiatsu approached at an alarming speed-

BANG!

Whatever it was met the outer wall of the Seireitei. To Aizen's Horror, did not slow down. It was however now accompanied by successive crashes that seemed to be getting closer-

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

THUNK!

Aizen ran out the door, and slid a bit on the wood floors as whatever it was suddenly flew over the 5th division and made impact deep into the relatively soft earth of the training grounds.

"What the-?" He asked glasses askew not with practiced effort but genuine bewilderment. It took a moment to recognize the massive object now embedded upside-down in the middle of the courtyard, because Aizen had only ever seen it rightside up, and firmly bolted in place. "-Is. Is that the North Gate?" he sputtered, the feeling of surprise now turning into something bordering on Genuine alarm.

"I think that's Fortune's idea of a smile." Gin winced. "We uh... We should probably hoof it to the 11th."

"What?" Aizen repeated, genuinely surprised. "Why?"

Gin pointed in the direction of the 11th, and Aizen sluggishly followed his gesture-

CRACK!!

The outburst of reiatsu was so explosive it generated it's own superbolt of lightning- though whether it was the result of ionization down from the clouds, or worse- came up from the ground, he wasn't sure.

"...Oh." He paled, then steeled himself, clenching fists and inhaling. "LISTEN UP!" he barked to be heard over the growing din of alarm. "Our first priority is to keep the city from falling to chaos until we're told otherwise! Seated officers! Each of you take a dozen men and head to the Emergency rally points! Keep civilians calm, and direct them away from the 11th! Gin, you're with me!"

"SIR! YES SIR!" the assembled Shinigami shouted, and quickly fell in as he and Gin took off with Shun-po towards the scene of the catastrophe.

"You've got speed on me Gin, go scout ahead!" He called and the boy vanished in a silver flash of light ahead of him. He could make out other approaching officers- Kuchiki, his lieutenant with the fancy sunglasses and his grandson from the sixth and Lieutenant Yamada and an emergency troop from the fourth.

Another flash- bright red-orange for the instant it was visible- and he realized Yamamoto himself had deployed to the scene.

"Why does every woman turn into a huge bitch when you ask her to smile?" Aizen groaned.

Even with Shun-po it still took him a few minutes to actually arrive, just ahead of the Kuchiki detachment, and landed beside Gin where he was standing on the roof of the 11th. "How is it?" he panted.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?" Gin grimaced as more people arrived behind them-

"Holy FUCK!" Yelped Captain Ukitake, a man who was so careful with his language he kept a division swear jar.

"What the hell made that?" Echoed Captain Kyoraku, voice trembling.

Below them, the Dueling arena in the courtyard of the 11th had been cleft in twain. As had the rest of the Courtyard. And the ground below. And the Sewers below that- even from up here he couldn't see how deep the cut went- it had to be at least a hundred feet deep, which made it... deeper than it was wide, a terrifying thought.

"Just give me the news, Gin." He said, trying to sound like a Captain in control of the situation, but his voice cracked for the first time since puberty. Aizen shuddered as he realized that all was left of Kiganjo were the splashes of red on either side of The Hole's median.

"Well uh, the good news is that the thing that made that hole was only mad at Kiganjo specifically, and has peacefully accepted the commission as Captain of the 11th." Gin explained.

"Oh thank god!" Ukitake exhaled with relief.

"...What's the Bad news?" Kyoraku asked.

"...The bad news is the The Thing That Made That Hole is now captain of the 11th." Gin winced, pointing him out in the surprisingly calm crowd. "...Also, I think he already knows Captain Unohana because he was awful polite without her threatening him at all, and unless I'm mistaken, I think he knows Tousen too."

Aizen followed Gin's lead with great alarm for the second time in under ten minutes, and barely managed to pick out Tousen's garish orange scarf in the crowd. Mostly because of the Giant man in about half of a ratty Yukata and mostly bandages was standing next to Tousen, hand on the captain's shoulder and grin so broad it was visible even from up here. The man had long, unkempt black hair that came down to the middle of his back and some kind of bundle on his shoulder.

"...I guess we go make our introductions?" Ukitake mumbled, and the other two captains shrugged, then jumped down.

Tousen's expressions were hard to read on a good day, and right now he looked so stunned he might have been hit by that lighting bolt.

"-See, I never forget a face!" The giant was saying cheerfully. "Even if it's in a pho- whatsit. The paintings that come out of a box." The giant was an ugly beast of a man, at least seven feet tall, standing barefoot, and had a strangely long and angular face, with dark, sunken eyes.

"A Photograph Ken-Chan?" the bundle asked, and Aizen realized that the thing draped over his shoulder was the little pink-haired girl Tousen had smuggled in and out of the Captain's meeting yesterday.

Uh-oh.

"Thems." The giant nodded. "You alright Kaname? You look like yer about to keel over."

"I- I'm-" he started to speak and Aizen snapped Suigetsu open to flash the assembled crowd and hopefully catch the giant in the illusion before Kaname could speak and blow the whole operation-

"-PUT THAT THING AWAY!" The Giant roared, glaring at Aizen over his shoulder ...Through an eyepatch? Aizen paused, startled.

"You look like sheep when you run up on 'em at the road at night." The Giant chuckled at him. "Keep yer panties on, it's all done and dusted."

"Really Sosuke!" Ukitake huffed, chopping him on the shoulder to make him sheathe Suigetsu again.

"My apologies for my friend, it's literally his first day on the job." Kyoraku waved apologetically. "I'm 8th Division Captain Shunsui Kyoraku, the silver fox is 13th Division Captain Jushiro Ukitake, and that's appointed-yesterday 5th Division Captain Sosuke Aizen."

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, Captain-?" Ukitake asked brightly, attempting to distract the giant from Aizen.

"Kenpachi Zaraki." The Giant leered down at them. The other eye was sunken and gaunt and an unpleasant shade of yellow as Zaraki studied them in a way that made Aizen's skin crawl, like without suigetsu's Illusion, Zaraki could somehow see him naked. Yep. That's an eyepatch... But why do I have the feeling he can see right through it? Right through me?

"My apologies, Captain Zaraki-" Aizen sputtered, closing the distance and putting his hand on Kaname's other shoulder. "-Kaname is a very dear friend of mine and it's alarming to see a stranger touching him." he explained, digging the heel of his palm into the Silence character carved into Tousen's shoulder.

Tousen made a faint clicking noise in his throat as he involuntarily swallowed the shriek of pain under the Curse's command, and nodded in agreement. There- if I can't conceal Tousen from this brute, I can at least force him to remain silent. The illusion is safe.

"...That so?" Zaraki asked, the yellow eye fixed on Aizen's hand, and Aizen let go before he realized what he was doing. What? Why am I flinching? Who is this guy?

"You've taken to your title quickly!" Aizen smiled up at him, feigning cheerful interest.

"Title Schmitle, it's been my Name since before you were a wiggle in yer Da's nutsack." Zaraki grunted.

Aizen felt his glasses slipping off his face without his permission again. I didn't think there was an expression worse than Hirako's 'since you were kickin' in your momma'...

"Ah, here's trouble- WHAT TOOK YOU ASSHOLES SO LONG?" Zaraki roared cheerfully at two men who appeared on the 11th's roof, panting and enraged.

"HI YUYU! HI BALDY!" Yachiru waved cheerfully!

"Yachiru darling! I'm so glad you're safe!" the lithe, effeminate one waved back before jumping down to meet them.

"FUCK YOU!" howled the bald, muscular one.

"FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" Zaraki called back, grinning as they approached. "Come look who I found-!

Fuck! Aizen suddenly realized that when he'd let go of Tousen, Zaraki had not, and was now herding him away from Aizen, his huge and terrible body between them.

"OH MY GOD! IS THAT KAKIYO'S BROTHER?" the fop shrieked with excitement, sprinting over and grabbing Kaname's hand. "Yumichika Aseyagawa- oh this is DELIGHTFUL! I've heard so much about you!"

"Holy shit! You're the guy that burned down that shitass Daimyo's compound down, right?" the bald, clownish one grinned, shaking Kaname's whole arm. "Ikkaku Maderame, it's such an honor to meet you!"

THEY KNEW KAKIYO!? FUCK!! Aizen paled.

"-Burned what down?" Kyoraku asked.

"Shut up cueball, they acquitted him." Zaraki grunted, flicking Madarame's forehead. "Speaking of- I haven't heard form Kakiyo in Donkey's years, how is she? Running one of these divisions, right?"

"Gin!" Aizen hissed, searching the crowd for his Lieutenant. "Do something!"

"...She's dead." Kaname said flatly, still dazed with the... the everything probably.

Zaraki's shock rippled through the ambient reiatsu like being dunked in cold water. There's no sign of Gin, and no way to silence Tousen-

"What? How?" Aseyagawa demanded, the other two equally horrified.

"She was murdered." Kaname's voice was small, weak and he was starting to sway- the effort of resisting the curse was about to make him collapse.

Zaraki slowly crouched down, perched on his toes so he could pull Kaname close, face to face

"Who." It wasn't a request.

With a shaking arm, Tousen pointed to the remains of the Arena.

SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK!! Aizen felt his heart racing.

"I- I'm sorry. I tried to, but- I can't- I can't I'm not strong enough-" Tousen stammered, trying to speak through the pain.

"It's alright. I am." Zaraki said, voice suddenly strangely gentle, touching his forehead to Kaname's. He sat down, pulling Kaname down with him, half in Zaraki's lap so he couldn't be easily pulled away. "Tell me the details later, ya look like yer about to drop dead. Y'all got anything he can eat?" He glared at the other captains.

Ukitake immediately produced a large bag of candy and Kyoraku a flask that smelled like you could use it's contents for eye surgery. Aizen made a show of patting his coat, and suddenly remembered the two oranges Gin had handed him earlier.

"Uh, I have these..?" Aizen offered the fruits, mentally preparing to skin Gin.

"Good to see one of you is an adult." Zaraki chuffed, taking one of the oranges and handing it to Kaname, who pointed his face at it blankly. "You don't mind if I take the other? I sprinted here from North 69 on an empty stomach."

Tousen shook his head, still silent.

"Good man, you'll be alright. Ta." Zaraki said, taking the second orange from Aizen with a nod of gratitude.

... and then casually bit halfway into it like an apple and chewed, rind and all.

Aizen stood there, dial tone echoing between his ears. Gradually he became aware his left eye was twitching.

"Did. Did you just bite straight into that orange?" Kaname frowned.

Zaraki, to Aizen's horror, swallowed. "Yeh, what's wrong with that?"

"...Nothing at all." Aizen smiled, checking out of this scene. "Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced my lieutenant..." he mumbled, turning on his heel and wandering away from them.

---

Kaname felt Zaraki arch his back slightly, watching Aizen go.

"...Uh-huh." he said, smirk audible. "Alright lads, you got marchin' orders."

The other two men snapped to attention.

"Yumichika- There's a woman, beautiful and terrible as the dawn, with a coat like this 'cept it's got a four on the back. Go tell her Kaname's had a turn and whatever she says you say 'Yes Sir' and do it." he said, tugging on Kaname's haori.

"Sure, that's definitely a description I can follo- oh. Nevermind, I see what you mean!" Yumichika said, catching sight of Unohana. "On it, Boss."

"Er, It might help if I'm there to make Introductions..." Kyoraku offered, jogging after Yumichika.

"Ikkaku." he spoke as soon as Yumichika was out of earshot. "There's a man who's older than dirt who looks like he could set you on fire just lookin' at you, 'cos he can. He's got the Employee Handbook, can you go grab that?"

"...What Employee Handbook?" Ikkaku frowned. "Don't tell me you're quittin' the house? Madame won't like that."

"Madame sent me here today on purpose." Zaraki waved. "-But seein' as I just did a homicide right in front of everybody, the old man offered me a choice. Take Kiganjo's old job runnin' the 11th, or get burnt to ash right there, and I can't take care'a Yachiru if I'm charcoal."

"So... you're a shinigami Captain now?" Ikkaku asked, sounding more intrigued than anything.

"Seems so." Zaraki shrugged. "Funny thing- the Lieutenant and Third-in-command's seats are up for grabs too."

Ikkaku cackled. "Be right back, Captain!" he grinned and took off towards the center of the city.

"Oh, shit-!" Ukitake muttered, looking up from where he had been transfixed by the sight of Yachiru devouring the bag of candy. "Er- Yama-Ji can be a bit tetchy with strangers, I should probably go with him..." he winced, sprinting after apparently-Lieutenant Madarame.

Zaraki chuckled, weight shifting and turning his attention back to Kaname. "...You want some help with that, Little bat?"

Kaname nodded, too dazed to protest as Zaraki took the orange from him.

"That Aizen's a creep, ain't he?" he asked.

"Yeah! Kaname-kun told me to stay away from him, even more than I needed to stay away from Kiganjo!" Yachiru nodded, mouth still full of candy.

"Thought so." Zaraki hummed, fiddling with the orange. "You know what's great about first Impressions?"

Kaname shook his head, just relieved Zaraki was here to keep him from collapsing straight onto the pavement.

"They Stick." Zaraki said voice low and conspiratorial. "-No matter what Aizen sees me do from now on, no matter what anyone tells him, he will believe, at his core, that I'm an idiot."

-And with that, he pressed a perfectly peeled and clean segment of orange into Kaname's hand.

Kaname blinked a few times, turning the fruit over in his hands as he sluggishly connected the dots and, despite everything, slowly broke into a genuine smile.

"Kakiyo always said you were a clever bastard." Zaraki grinned, "Eat yer orange."

---

Aizen finally located Gin, hiding under the narrow gap under one of the stone storehouses in the less-used section of the 11th.

"What the HELL are you doing?" Aizen hissed at him.

"That thing ain't human." Gin whimpered. "I dunno what it is, but it ain't right."

"I agree he looks like a carcass that's too stupid to know it's dead but that's because he's a MORON." Aizen groaned, reaching under the porch and pulling the boy out by the scruff of his neck. "You should see how he eats oranges."

"I'm not kidding!" Gin pleaded, grabbing Aizen's sleeve. "He's got- I don't know, but when he looked at us? It was like he could see right through me!"

"Yes, yes-" Aizen waved. "-but even if he could, I promise, he hasn't got the brains to understand what he's seeing."

"He's gonna eat me." Gin muttered, hiding behind Aizen, peering out behind him in the general direction of courtyard.

"What's gotten into you?" Aizen huffed. "You've never been spooked before-?"

"I'm telling you!" Gin pleaded up at him, eyes very nearly open with alarm. "There's something deeply fucked up about that guy! He's dangerous! He's gonna find me and grab me and eat me!"

Aizen sighed, put his hand on Gin's shoulder, glanced around for witnesses, and finding them alone, backhanded Gin as hard as he could.

"Get ahold of yourself!" he snarled, and Gin flinched. He softened his voice, fingertips under Gin's chin, tipping his head up. "I'm sorry- it's easy to forget you're just a boy sometimes- but we can't lose our heads now, not when we've come so far. I'll deal with Zaraki, alright? I need you to keep Tousen in line- I've gotten him to shut up for now, but it's VITAL that he not speak to that brute until I've gotten him and his two clowns under The Illusion, got it?"

Gin nodded, sniffling, cheekbone turning slightly pink.

"Good boy." Aizen smirked. "I'll leave it to you then."

Gin vanished with a flash to carry out his orders, and Aizen sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them.

"-How do these things constantly get filthy?" he muttered.

"Most of the filth on glasses is the grease from the skin of the wearer. If they're constantly filthy, it may be that you're just slime." someone spoke up behind him and Aizen yelped, nearly dropping his glasses as he fumbled them onto his face.

"-Good heavens! How DO you do that?" He laughed nervously to suddenly be in close proximity to the massive frame of Yamamoto's pet third seat that he'd just assigned to the Seventh Division. No saftey pins needed to keep the Lieutenant's badge on the tree-trunk arms of Sajin Komamura.

The narrow gap in the helmet stared impassively down at him, and for the second time that morning, Aizen was struck by the feeling he was nearly being seen through.

"I didn't quite catch all that, but I did hear the sound of someone being slapped before I see you, holding your lieutenant like that, and he sprints away with a fresh bruise on his face." Komamura rumbled ominously.

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean." Aizen glared back.

"I'm glad to hear that. I should hope that I merely misunderstood what I saw, and that there's no cause for alarm." Komamura leaned forward, and Aizen thought there was the briefest flash of the same yellow as Zaraki's working eye in there. "-There are very few deviances the captain-general won't tolerate, but the lines in the sand do very much exist."

"Sajin-" Aizen scoffed, turning away from the menacing hulk of a shinigami. "You may be Yamamoto's Golden Boy, but you ought to mind what you go sticking your nose into, lest somebody cut it off."

There was no reply.

"Glad you underst- really?" Aizen groaned at the empty corner of the 11th Division. "How the HELL does he do that? It's like being stalked by an animal... Whatever, it's fine- Sajin still has his uses, and he'll forget it by tomorrow morning, won't he?" Aizen smirked, affectionately rubbing Suigetsu's hilt, the Zanpakuto purring at the attention.

"Now, let's go deal with that orange-mangling moron." he smiled as he stalked back into the remains of the 11th's courtyard.

[cherryredstars]

Hey cherry! I loved your work for a really long time and I saw you had your requests open. 💕

What about dancer!reader and a dbf!Miguel and he just loves to go to her dance recitals and competitions with her dad and smother her in the flowers he bought her as a gift afterwards <33

Pairing: dbf!Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Age Gap, Secret Relationship

A/N: I did ballet for one year in kindergarten and have no idea how recitals work so take my Dance Mom knowledge instead. But I hope you enjoy and thank you, love!

Unedited

You are going to throw up.

You always feel like you're going to throw up right before your performance. Behind the stage curtain, you shake out your arms and legs, trying to loosen your joints and relax your body. The girl on stage right now is doing amazing, and while you're happy for her, you're also scared. You don't want to be lackluster in comparison.

You watch anxiously as the girl makes her final steps before her number ends, and she does her performative exit off the stage. She quickly shuffles past you once she gets behind the curtain, and you both exchange nervous nods of acknowledgment. You let out a shaky breath as you stare at the now empty stage, mouth almost thinning before you think better of it and risk smudging your lipstick. After a bit of silence, you have one of the stage crew tap your shoulder, giving you a silent show of 5 seconds before you get called on. You straighten up, getting into your entrance position just in time for the announcer to call your name and performance piece.

You enter the stage, facing the crowd as the music begins to fade in. The auditorium is dark. Only the first few rows are barely lit from them glowing stage lights. Even so, your eyes zero in on two figures near the center of the audience. You aren't exactly sure how they always find seats in the same area every time, but the dedication and consistency touch you.

When the music picks up, you begin your routine, trying to simultaneously remember to keep your face expressive and count the steps in your head. With all the fast movements, the audience in front of your blurs into one large mass. You can feel every bone in your body softening as you get into your element, muscle memory locking in as the movements become natural and almost effortless. Something in your mind buzzes with satisfaction as your entire being hones in on the carefree nature of your dance, remaining even after the music ends and you do your last step on beat.

The buzz begins to fade to make way to the applause of the audience, and you let out a breathless smile as you bask in it for a few short seconds before you find your way backstage again. A few of your friends come up to you, complimenting you on a brilliant dance. It's smiles and quiet laughter backstage as the rest of the dances and performances continue, filling the time until you all gather on stage again for a final bow and thank yous before you all disperse into the crowd. A few of your friends walk out with you, and one of your friends link your arms with theirs.

"Soooo, are you finally going to go out with us to get something to eat? This might be the last time we all dance on the same stage."

You laugh, shaking your head at your friend's dramatics. It's not even any one of your friend's last year at the studio, just an excuse to guilt trip you into going. From the corner of your eye, you can see a familiar figure staring at you. You shake off your friend, telling them off for their dramatics and giving your friend group hugs and goodbyes. Your friend groans as they're pulled away from the others, yelling back at you that you have no choice but to join them next time. You roll your eyes and wave back, watching as they leave from a side entrance.

The second they leave through the door, you gasp as a kiss is placed to the back of your neck. Your hand slaps around the area as a shiver runs down your spine, turning to find Miguel behind you. You smile, swatting his chest.

"Ew! My neck is still sweaty!" You whine, peering behind his muscular body. "Where's dad?"

Miguel hands you a bouquet a flower, and you smile as you take it from him. They're bright and pretty, smell lovely. They coincidentally match your costume, and you hold them to your chest.

"Bathroom." Miguel answers simply, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Good job, mi luz. Looked fucking beautiful."

Your cheeks burn, and you lean up on your toes to press a returning kiss to his cheek. You're sure you look awestruck at him, lovesick better describing it. You throw your arm around his neck, your other hand jutted away to make sure the flowers aren't crushed as you hug him. Miguel's arms wrap around you, large hands planted on your up and lower back, rubbing up and down gently. You practically melt into the embrace, only pulling away when you see your father reenter the auditorium. You move to pull away, but Miguel doesn't let you leave without a quick squeeze to the ass.

You gasp in surprise, glaring at him as your dad walks up to the two of you. Your eyes are trained on Miguel's mischievous ones, mouthing You are SO dead, to him as your father pulls you into his own hug. You're practically suffocating in your dad's embrace, but you can't help but smile as he sways you back and forth as he congratulates his "little girl".

When your dad finally pulls away, he ruffs up your hair, laughing at your irritated face as it loosens your hair from the up-do. Your father throws an arms around you, Miguel trailing besides you as your father begins to walk out of the auditorium.

"Let's go get something to eat, I bet your hungry from doing all the twisting and turning."

You nod in agreement, your eyes moving over to Miguel. He smiles at you from the corner of his eye. He grabs your hand as your father begins rambling, clueless to his daughter and best friend.

Miguel gives your hand a squeeze and you hold the flowers a bit tighter.

[totalswag]

nonsense — DREW STARKEY

authors note i've wanted to write a singer!reader drew fic for the longest time. i've read some singer!reader fics lately and it gave me some inspiration to write my own. i hope you guys enjoy reading. this was also requested by an anon not long ago, so if you’re reading this enjoy 🩵. the song choice is nonsense and just think to when sabrina is performing this song at coachella.

summary performing at coachella for the first time with friends and your lovely boyfriend supporting you in the crowd.

warnings none!

Coachella.

This is your first Coachella where you are performing. You will be playing live in front of millions of people. This is the last weekend for the festival.

Tens of thousands of people travel from all over the world to attend Coachella. The festival features sculptures, art installations, and other open events in addition to music.

When your manager called you about being invited to perform you couldn't believe your ears. Now, here you are about to step on stage.

Standing in a circle backstage with your crew, discussing everything you've prepared for over the last few days and having fun out there. This is what you always do before a show.

Second weekend of the festival.

Walking on stage seems like a surreal experience for you. Looking around, you can sense the intensity of the enormous crowd in front of you.

The weather was lovely, with the sun still shining and the breeze brushing over your skin. 

"Hello Coachella, my name is Y/F/N, what's yours?" You smile into the microphone while waving away.

You began by introducing the crowd to yourself, your backup dancers, your music, if everyone is having a great time, etc.

Interacting with your fans is one of your favorite parts of singing on stage. You value your interactions with them since you like conversing. When you read comments on your shows, they usually mention how fascinating you are.

After singing a few songs from the set list, you took a little breather and spoke to the crowd saying a joke, making them laugh.

You begin the next song by sipping from an old-fashioned soda bottle while seated in a chair. As you take a seat, you glimpse your boyfriend, Drew, along with a couple of your friends and security. 

You two make eye contact. Butterflies fill your stomach. You offer him a small wave, and he smiles and turns around, presumably blushing.

Fans up close captured the brief interaction with their phones out. We'll see it on social media later today.

Drew and you began dating in the midst of season three of Outer Banks. The first outing was Pougelandia, and fans began to speculate about your relationship because it came out of nowhere.

To be honest, Madelyn Cline and you were close friends before she began filming season one of Outer Banks. She’s the one who introduced you to Drew.

"The last song I'll be playing for you guys is nonsense, so if you know the lyrics, sing along," you cheer, lifting your free hand in the air, moving it around with excitement.

"Is it possible we get my amazing dancers out here," you turn around, pretending you have no idea where they went, "guys come out here, we could perform some sort of choreography, you know" as you gaze at your dance crew coming out the set.

Nonsense is about Drew.

It is one of your favorite songs that you have written. When you first released it, many were unsure who it was about until photos of Drew and you emerged.

Think I only want one number in phone

I might change your contact to "don't leave me alone"

You said you like my eyes and you like to make 'em role

Treat me like a queen, now you got me feelin' thrown, oh

You dance with your dancing crew, who are behind you and moving in sync. The choreography is muscle memory for you guys because you've been performing this song for a few years now.

But I can't help myself when you get close to me

Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like "bleh bleh bleh"

I don't want no one else (no no) baby, I'm into deep

Here's a little song I wrote (a song I wrote) its about you and me

When you sing the last line of the pre-chorus, you gesture to Drew in the audience, who moves his head side to side while listening to you sing and blushes when you point to him. You giggle into the microphone.

Fans started cheering louder as they watched you motioning to your lover in the audience.

You continue to move around stage all throughout the song.

You go around the center of the stage as your backup dancers finish their final few dances. One of your backup dancers grabs a chair for you to sit in.

At the end of nonsense you always come up with rhymes. Started doing this after the first performance and can't stop doing it.

Told him he makes me weak to my knees

Everything about him just so dreamy

By the way he's name Drew Starkey

When you say your boyfriend's name, the crowd cheers. You saw his response as he mouthed the words "I love you," dropped his jaw, and put his hands over his heart.

"Coachella, you've been amazing to me these past two weekends. Thank you so much. Can we please give a huge around of applause for our amazing dancers, come on out guys!" Excitement in your voice when you call your dance crew out on stage.

Once you guys made it off stage, you guys began cheering with a bunch of energy. Everyone gave each other hugs.

"Water is calling my name right now" you groan with urgency.

Approaching your manager, holding a cold water bottle for you- thanking her a few times as you open the bottle. You were about jugging down the water when you heard Drew's voice approaching.

"Hi baby," you squeal, dragging the y in baby, and rush into Drew's arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. Being in his arms sends relief in your body.

He smells so good.

He chuckles, "You did so well out there, so proud of you," and delicately places you on your feet.

"Thank you," blushing to the point where your cheeks were red. "Did you enjoy the outro of nonsense?" You inquire with curiosity, despite the fact that you already know his response.

He softly grins that makes your heart flutter, "Mhm yeah I did" kissing the top of your head, wrapping his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

"Why don't we get something to eat?" "How's that sound, baby?" Drew asks, his arm still around you.

Your ears and eyes light up from his request, “obviously yes.”

Before leaving you heard the voices of friends turning the corner. The rest of your friends, as well as Drew's cast members who are also your friends, returned to stage, thrilled to see you.

It was so good to see them.

Drew and you returned to the van to change, drove to the Airbnb to relax before returning to watch other artists perform after the sun had set with your friends.

my taglist!

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[songbirdseung]

dwba / yang jungwon

synopsis: you keep listening to the same song, making your boyfriend very concerned and worried that you are trying to say something, jungwon version for @laylasbunbunny

pairing: yang jungwon x reader, established relationship

warnings: a little angsty, crying, relationship troubles, hint of breakups

wc: 948

Everyone perceived you and Jungwon to be the picture-perfect couple, bound to last forever, and a match made in heaven. With the way you two handle issues and conflict maturely and go through life, hand in hand, side by side. It was weird for the rest of Enhypen to walk into the dorm, being met with a stressed Jungwon sitting on the couch with his face in his hands.

A week ago, you and Jungwon fell into a misunderstanding. Unlike solving it like you both usually do, this time; things were just to heavy and needed to be thought upon before making any decisions that you both might regret.

By doing so, in your self loathing time; you were indulging and basking in the moment that you don't get to experience so often, you play music to accompany you, alongside with your tears and dirty tissues.

"The lyrics are 'So, I take my time to self-soothe', not self loathing"

Placing down a new tissue box for you, your sister also offers a shoulder to cry on. The assumption that you had of you crying silently was wrong, since your sister told you how she could hear you sobbing from outside the house. An exaggeration just to hopefully get you to laugh.

While it did get you to chuckle, a few block down, your boyfriend was not.

Jungwon just got back from a busy day filled with dance practices, recordings, and content filming. But not having to be in contact with you for over a week, distracted his senses and or mind to even realize that his body was in total fatigue.

Now, sitting on the couch, regretting the decision to allow you both to sit this one out and to not fix it right away. Slumping on the couch, thinking why on earth did he agree that it was the right idea to let you out of his sight. Sluggishly reaching over to his bag and fetching out his phone to open the contacts, he's hesitant to call you.

After a few minutes, he still in the same position, has yet to call you or even get up to wash up and rest to repeat the same day tomorrow.

His thoughts were interrupted for a second when he heard the door open, but immediately went back to the depths of regret. His members slowly make their way inside, spotting the young one.

"Jungwon? you good?" Jake inquires as he steps closer to the couch, standing behind Jungwon, patting him on the head.

"Does he look good to you, idiot?" A chuckle follows after Jay replies to Jake's not so smart question. The rest follows pursuit except Jungwon. Once they realized that, they finally understood that this was serious. They all huddle up on the couch and try to talk some sense into their leader.

Soon later, with enough convincing, Jungwon is up and running to your place. Flowers in hand with your favorite snacks in a bag. Eventually with successfully saving himself from tripping over things, he's at your door, hopeful that he'll succeed again with fixing things with you.

He knocks on the door and your sister opens the door. She offers him a small smile, a hug with a good luck. Giving him a little more confidence that he needed. He makes his way upstairs to your room and from outside the door, he hears your sweet voice that he missed so much. He loves to hear you sing and he always jokes how you could steal his job. But this time, he isn't that pleased to hear you sing lyrics that are making him question that you hate him at this point.

He stands there, in denial. As he hears you sing the next song. He's thinking how the titles and message of the songs casually just goes along with the predicament you both are in with your relationship.

I don't wanna fuck with your head It's breaking my heart To keep breaking yours again

Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, he takes hold of the doorknob and slowly opens the door. Being met by your back facing him as you sit on your bed with your speaker blasting 'Don't Want to Break up Again' by Ariana Grande. You don't even notice the new presence in your room as you switch the song after it ended.

If the sun refused to shine Baby, would I still be your lover? Would you want me there?

Again, he loves you singing but as you sing along to the lyrics with tears streaming down your face, he's not the happiest guy right now.

"Yes, you'll always be my lover" finally mustered up the courage to interrupt your mini concert to your plushies. You wipe your eyes, making sure that you're not hallucinating and Jungwon was actually sitting down next to you. "Are your songs trying to tell me something?" He jokes while cleaning up your face, wiping away the tears that can't seem to stop from flowing out your eyes.

After calming down a little, you explain how you were just in your feels and wanted to sing the pain away. Jungwon nods but couldn't help to call you dramatic in a joking manner, no harm intended whatsoever. You nudge him and rebuttal.

"For a second there I thought you were gonna break up with me"

Taken a back, you start asking him why you would ever end the relationship that you loved being in for almost 2 years now. He replies with how your music choice is making uneasy.

"Oh, you don't listen to sad songs when you're sad?"

"No, cause Ni-ki would make fun of me"

[rachalixie]

a/n: a little felix happy fluff for my lovely @hyunjinvoid who donated to sahar's fundraiser for gaza. thank you so much <3 if anyone wants a little drabble like this, donate and i'll write one for you!

being with felix was like many things muddled into one, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. he was sliding your feet into your worn out converse high tops, the shape of them conformed to fit just you. he was like laying in bed after a grueling day, the smell of your detergent coming from your blankets surrounding you. he was like - 

the sound of rain pattering against the windows knocks you out of your trance, and you realized you’d been staring at him for an indefinite amount of time. he remains unaware, his tongue darting out in pink flash across his lips as he leans closer to his computer screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. a surge of fondness rushes through you and your eyes flicker between him and the window before you rise to your feet, making a few small steps until you were taking up his space as if it was your own. 

“come outside with me,” you say, holding back a giggle when he jumps a bit and darts his head towards you. his character dies a tragic, unnecessary death on the screen but neither of you pay it any mind. 

“outside?” he sounds out each letter like he’s never heard the word before. “but, it’s raining.”

“yes,” you confirm, taking his hand in yours and dragging him to his feet. “dance with me in the rain.”

“you’re crazy,” he chuckles, but lets you pull him towards the door regardless. you give him enough time to pull his feet into a ratty pair of sneakers that he wouldn’t mind getting ruined before opening the door. you tilt your head up as you step outside, closing your eyes against the droplets of water attacking them. you pull him past the sidewalk and onto the empty street, the scent of rain pattering on the asphalt calming your every nerve. 

“we don’t have music,” you pout at him, and it turns into a smile when he twirls you around despite your claim.

“this was your idea,” he quirks an eyebrow at you, his perfect lips curved into a wet, cupid’s bow smile that you want to kiss off of him. 

“sing to me,” it was more of a demand than a request, but he keeps his mouth shut about it; he know when to pick his battles, and one where he was drenched from the rain was not one that he wanted to partake in. 

“oooh, i wanna dance with somebody,” he starts, pulling you in close and swaying your bodies back and forth. “i wanna feel the heat with somebody.”

his voice cracks in the middle and you hide your laugh in his jacket, pressing close to him through the uncomfortableness of wet clothes. 

“yeah, i wanna dance with somebody,” he croons, making his voice higher and higher to keep you laughing into him. your shoes brush against each other as you move but he keeps you steady with a hand on the small of your back. 

“with somebody who loves me,” you press a kiss to his neck after you finish the lyric for him, the moment so sweet that you almost ache with it. 

that is, until he shakes his wet hair at you and you run away with a shriek.

[lordprettyflackotara]

breath away || chris sturniolo & colby brock || the finale

smut, minors dni, 18+. guys ngl i went crazy in the studio. this is pure and utter completely insane filth. this was like written during peak feral hours. BEWARE🧍🏻‍♀️. oh and hot fights in bars colby activated BARK BARK.

You had no idea what to expect as you turned the corner, the restroom door slamming behind you.

Lucky for you, an explanation to Tara wasn’t needed.

The purple hickies forming on your neck said it all.

The overbearingly loud music was background noise to you now, your determination tuning it out. You never dreamed in a million years you’d be in this position. Hunting down one guy? Incomprehensible enough. Every fiber in you hunting down two guys? Those guys being Chris Sturniolo and Colby Brock? Unfathomable.

The red lounge had certainly earned its name, the red led lights illuminating the room. You tried to slither through people, struggling to find them. What if they were joking? You managed to find the bar, standing in front of it. Your eyes scanned over the crowd, trying to find them. You sighed, a hand suddenly brushing against your lower back.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned around, a man you didn’t recognize standing behind you. “Hello there,” He greeted. His words sounded slimy, your intuition screaming at you this guy was bad news. “Hi, please don’t touch me,” You say firmly, trying to obviously search for Chris and Colby. Maybe if you looked like you were obviously occupied he’d fuck off. “Feisty, i like that. Why dont we hit the dance floor?” He suggested. You cringed at the thought, his hand resuming its place on your lower back. You took a step back, pushing his hand off of you.

“I’m good, i’m trying to find someone,” You say, taking a couple of steps back. He reached out and grabbed your arm, his fingers harshly gripping around your skin. “I’ll be whoever you wanna be sweetheart,” He said. You squirmed under his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me!” You snapped. Two heads of brunette hair came from behind you, yanking the stranger away from you. You took a shaky breath, watching as Colby grabbed him by his shirt. He shoved him against the bar, spitting threats and insults into his face.

You were stunned, a familiar pair of soft hands grabbing your shoulders. “Hey hey hey, look at me ma. You good?” Chris asked. You nodded, the bartender climbing over the bar to intervene. “Oh shit he’s gonna get kicked out. Colby!” You called, rushing over to him. Chris was right behind you, the bartender trying to pull him off of the weird man. “If you ever touch our girl again i’ll gut you like a fish, do you understand me?” He growled, his knuckles turning white from gripping the man’s shirt so tightly. Chris grabbed his left arm, trying to help pull him away.

“Colby, look at me, i’m right here, i’m fine,” You say. Your voice seemed to soothe Colby’s anger, his knuckles finally releasing his shirt. “I’m cool man, i’m cool,” Colby told the bar tender, putting his hands in the air to show peace. The words our girl rang through out your mind, the sudden flashes of cameras capturing your attention. “Fucking hell, how do they always find us?” You sighed. Chris put his hair around you, hiding your surely shaken up expression from the scene.

“Let’s go somewhere a little more private, yeah?” Colby suggested, cocking his head to the left. You trailed behind him, Chris keeping your face hidden. “Thanks Chris, you’re sweet,” You say. Chris gave you a cheesy grin, the three of you ducking into a private room. “I bet you taste sweeter,” He whispered in your ear, your stomach doing a backflip at his words. You were surprised to see the room was quiet and reserved, the only thing occupying it being a black velvet couch and a wall wide mirror. The three you studied the room, soaking in the surroundings.

“This place used to be a strip club didn’t it?” Chris finally asked, making the three of you laugh. You playfully elbowed him, eyeing the couch suspiciously. “Damn now you’ve got me thinking about everyone that’s nutted on this couch. Bleh,” You replied, pretending to gag. Colby’s hands grabbed your waist from behind, his breath hot against your ear. “The only orgasm you should be thinking about is your own,” He whispered lowly, gripping your tender flesh. You groaned, Chris grabbed your chin gently, guiding you look at him.

“I think you owe us one, don’t you pretty girl?” He purred. You nodded profusely, the heat between your legs only getting hotter by the moment. “Then I suggest you get on your knees,” Colby ordered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You did as instructed, my knees hitting the hard wooden floor below you. You flattened out your tongue, the boys undoing their belts in unison. Chris couldn’t contain himself any longer, slapping his tip against your tongue.

“Look at that, so pathetic and eager to be our personal cumslut,” Chris purred. You used your hand to jerk Colby off, pumping his shaft. You licked the underside of Chris’s cock, tracing each vein. “Enough teasing princess, open your mouth wide,” Colby ordered. You did as instructed, both boys guiding their cocks to your mouth. “Go on ma, suck both of us off at the same time. You can do it,” Chris cooed, stroking your hair lovingly. You tried to fit both of their tips in your mouth, their cocks too girthy to fit.

You whined as you tried to accommodate their wish, the pool between your legs only furthering as they tried to forcefully push themselves inside. “Such a good girl,” Chris praised, groaning as you licked up his slit. Colby grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you away from their cocks. Saliva dripped off of your flattened tongue, dripping onto the floor below. Roughly he forced you onto his cock, pushing himself deep into your throat. “That’s it, such a good whore,” Colby grunted. You forced your jaw to go slack, tears flooding your waterline as he abused your throat.

Briefly he yanked you off of his cock, allowing you to intake gulps of air. “Dont be rude, you’re forgetting about Chris,” Colby said mockingly, pushing your head onto Chris’s cock. The brunette before you could’ve came right then, the sight of you deepthroating his cock enough to make him cum four times over. “Fucking hell, I need to fuck her, now,” Chris panted. You gasped for air as Colby untangled his hand from your hair, saliva trailing down your chin. Shakily you rose to your feet, Chris’s lips eager to meet yours.

He couldn’t get enough of you. Neither of them could.

“Turn around and face the mirror. Want you to watch yourself as I fuck you dumb,” Chris grunted, guiding you by your waist to turn around. You held yourself steady by placing your hands against the mirror, the feeling of Chris rubbing his tip up and down your slit sending electric shocks down your spine. You were glad you had Chris’s strong hands on your waist and the mirror to keep you upright. (Otherwise you thought you may crumble). Your eyes widened as you watched Colby kneel in front of you. “Keep your eyes up there princess,” Colby ordered. Your mouth fell open as Chris pushed himself inside of you, Colby’s lips attaching themselves to your clit.

You couldn’t control your sinful noises, one of your hands flying down to Colby’s hair. You glanced down at the man on his knees in front of you, Chris roughly smacking your ass to regain your attention. “Watch yourself ma, watch yourself fall apart for us,” He said, brushing your hair away from your neck to give himself access. You watched in the mirror as Chris pounded into you from behind, Colby’s tongue lapping at your sensitive clit with each thrust. “Oh my fucking-” You whined, your knees threatening to buckle. “Stay upright princess, we’re no where near done with you,” Colby purred, grinning as he watched your breast bounce from below.

You bit your bottom lip, Chris’s cock abusing your cunt the way he pleased. In the reflection you could see Colby pumping his cock, slowly rubbing his thumb across his slit. His blue eyes watched you as you struggled to stay standing, gripping his hair and propping yourself up against the mirror. “Feels so good, holy fuck-” You moaned, Colby’s lips reattaching themselves to your clit. You whimpered as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach, your legs shaking.

“Awe are you gonna cum already ma?” Chris taunted, smirking as he watched your facial expression in the mirror. You couldn’t help it, your body begging for release. “Please, please let me cum,” You pleaded. You felt Colby release your clit with a pop your knees threatening to buckle. “Cum,” Colby said assertively, lapping at your clit. You nearly fell forward as you squirted, your juices coating Colby’s face. Chris continued to ram inside of you, before the satisfying feeling of his hips stuttering ensued.

You could feel him filling your cunt, Colby’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Holy shit, i’ve never, fucking wow,” You gasped, nervously smiling. Chris slid out of you, Colby rising to his feet. “That was so fucking hot,” He grinned, pressing his lips against yours. You could taste your juices on his tongue, grasping onto him to stay upright in your heels. Chris took a seat on the couch behind you both, slowly stroking his length to the sight in front of him. Colby roughly grabbed your ass, his fingers borderline bruising your skin.

You groaned into his mouth, trying to keep up with his roughness. “Jump for me,” Colby murmured against your lips. You briefly pulled away, attempting to catch your breath. “I’ll tear the dress,” You say. Colby picked you up anyways, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You could hear the fabric tearing, a gasp escaping your lips. “Colby this isn’t mine-” You began, Colby’s attention turning to your neck. You whimpered as he pushed you against the mirror, pushing himself inside of you.

Your juices and Chris’s coated his cock, your walls spasming around him as you struggled to accommodate to his size. “I’ll buy you and whoever’s this is an entire fucking wardrobe,” He grunted, sloppily kissing your neck. Looking over his shoulder you could see Chris, cheeks flushed pink with his bottom lip between his teeth. His cock was in hand, his cum now used as lubricant as he jerked himself off. “Colby please, i’m sensitive,” You whined, the slightest feeling of friction against your clit making you squirm.

Colby bucked his hips inside of you, gripping you as he rammed into you. “You can handle it, give us one more,” He whispered, groaning as his tip brushed against your g spot. His thrust felt euphoric, Chris watching him fuck you senseless only making your core throb more. Colby’s hand slithered to your throat, gently pressing the sides as you moaned his name like a mantra. “Such a pretty girl, taking me like this,” He praised. He brought himself close to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.

“Maybe next time we’ll have you take both of us at the same time,” Colby said, thrusting up into you once more. You dug your nails into his shirt, your second orgasm approaching quickly. “I can feel you squeezing me. You like that idea huh? Having both of us fuck you senseless,” Colby chuckled darkly, squeezing your throat. You babbled a mindless agreement, one of your hands flying to his wrist. “Fuck fuck fuck, just like that, please,” You whined. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came, your cunt creaming around Colby’s shaft.

The brunette couldn’t hold back any long, thrusting into you one last time to cum deep inside of you. When your eyelids managed to flutter open you saw Chris in the same position, his hand covered in his seed. You laid your head back against the mirror, smiling as Colby released your neck. “Awe fuck that might bruise,” He mumbled. You giggled as he set you down, your legs wobbly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll pay you back next time,” You replied, still dazed. Noticing you could hardly stand, he carried you over to the couch to sit beside Chris.

Chris was quick to throw his arm around you, pulling you against his chest. “I’m trying very hard to ignore the fact we’re sitting on a cum stained couch,” Chris admitted, causing you to giggle. Colby began fixing his hair, a knock on the door making the three of you jump. Both you and Chris panicked, trying to cover yourselves. Colby signaled for you both to wait, fixing his belt. “Who is it?” He asked loudly, not answering the door.

A very drunk Sam Golbach audibly laughed. “Dude that mirror is one way glass!” He exclaimed. You felt your face turn red, instantly scurrying to pull down your dress. Colby cracked open the door as Chris attempted to clean himself up. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He demanded. Once Chris was decent Colby let him in, the blonde bright red in the face. “Relax I was about to hook up with an old friend but noticed the glass. I single handedly guarded the room with my life, scouts honor,” Sam said, holding up his hand like he was in boy scouts. You exchanged glances with Chris, who looked equally as nervous.

“Wait you didn’t-” Chris began, Sam quick to stop him.

“Gross of course not, although what I did very briefly see was very hot if that helps,” Sam said, giving you a cheeky wink. You felt yourself blush, Colby quick to give him a small slap upside the head. “Dont flirt with her when I just- Wait, hooking up with an old friend? Sam!” Colby scolded. Sam awkwardly laughed, quickly sprinting out of the room. “We agreed not to hook up with exs get back here!” Colby yelled, sighing. Colby dashed after him, leaving both you and Chris to laugh as they disappeared.

“We should probably go after them right?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

[brucewaynehater101]

Oh my god, I love that so much. Tim's heart beat was only for Kon, so when Kon went away so did his heart beat. It's still gone because Tim hasn't even come *close* to recovering from Kon and Bart and Steph's deaths, even if all three of them are back they still deeply effect him. Also Tim being the heart of the team so so <3 to me.

Tim 100% will use this incident against not just Bruce, but the entire family. Dick suggests he cuts back on the caffeine and Tim replies, "the only time I do is when I'm Relaxing on a trip and last time I went on a trip you nearly killed Ivy because you were to stressed to think straight." and when Jason comments he should take a rest, Tim says, "I only rest on trains but last time I got on one, you nearly made another duffel bag of heads."

Turning back time a bit though, can you imagine when they get to the train car that Tim is on, expecting it to be some grand show down with all of them in costume? And then they hear... music? coming from the train car that the tracker says Tim is in?? They all swing into the car while Tim's back is to them, yelling along to Shakira and when he turns around it's literally, "WHENEVER, WHEREVER, WE'RE MEANT TO- AAAAAAAAA" And he jumps a solid foot in the air while chucking his MP3 at the closest Bat, Bruce, and hitting them square in the forehead with it. Tim is death glaring them as he says, "what the fuck are you doing here, I'm on vacation. I'll be home tomorrow, what the *fuck* is so important that you tracked me down on my day off???"

Yes! Exactly. There's so much angst to be explored with Tim's missing heartbeat, how that reflects his current mindset/relationships with people, and how that affects Kon. I like to hc that Kon listens to various YJ members' heartbeats as a calming measure and reassurance. His inability to hear Tim's causes him stress and heartbreak (your choice on whether that's platonic or not).

Tim is a chaos gremlin who uses guilt tripping (in lighthearted measures) with a vicious lack of mercy. It only works half the time on his family members anyways and is a healthier form of airing out grievances (than trying to attack anyone).

Tim most definitely is swaying and dancing to the music when the Bats find him. He refuses to be embarrassed by this. If they want to make fun of him for dancing and singing alone on a train, they can suck it.

Tim: "What the fuck is so important that you tracked me down on my day off??? The world better be ending."

Bruce: "Tim... you weren't answering your phone and no one knew where you were."

Tim: "I'm on my vacation like always? You know this!"

Bruce: "No. No we didn't."

Tim: ".... Is this another case of me assuming you know about something that's been happening for years?"

Bruce: *nods with pursed lips*

Tim: *sighs heavily*

Jason: "Wait.... your vacation is riding cargo carts for days?"

Tim: *points a finger at Jason* "I don't want to hear judgment from you, Mr. Red Helmet."

Also, the reveal of them finding out why he developed this de-stress mechanism is going to be great. Just Tim refusing to make eye contact as he tries to nonchalantly explain being abandoned in another state/city and having to make his way home before he was even a teenager. Then he turned this very messed up form of neglect into a semi healthy form of decompression due to the same incident happening more than once to Tim.

The Bats obvious go fucking ballistic

[albaricomics]

seeing ur hc about anastacha and francis makes me wanna know now, whats ur hc for nacha and francis? or nacha and anastacha in general, bc theyre family is so cute (francis and nacha r still married in my head </3)

So cute you keep them as a married couple in your head haha 💖💖

For Nacha and Anastacha

Too much energy mom and zero to no energy daughter

Their love and care for each other is mutual, Nacha would do anything to protect her girl, and even tho sometimes Ann doesn't match her mom's vibes or isn't too cheerful about general stuff, she'll show care in different ways.

Besides of her mom, the rest of the world is very "whatever" to Anastacha.

Nacha will do Ann's pigtails for school every morning, she has done it since she was very little and hasn't figured how much she has grown already.

Unlike Ann and her dad, Nacha is OBSESSED with Elvis Presley and will blast his music every weekend.

They enjoy hanging out with the twins, Lois, Margarette, Gloria, Raftellyn and Mia. All women have a strong bond and trust each other for everything 💞 (tho Ann tries to stay away from those who pinch her cheeks bc of "how much she's grown")

For Francis and Nacha...

Currently is generally awkward, tho Francis doesn't care that much to this point, but Nacha will rush to her apartment if she sees him close.

They loved watching outdoor movies when they were together.

She's a chef so I believe they met at the restaurant she was working, while Francis was delivering milk, and his attention was brought to the lead chef that would make everyone move around, but when those big blue and green eyes made contact with him, he immediately knew he wanted to know everything about her.

She approached and asked him "do you need me to sign something?", and it took him 15 SECONDS to react.

He'd purposefuly say he forgot to bring something, again and again, to repeatedly visit Nacha during the day.

He wasn't shy at all, but took him fair enough to invite her out to dinner.

First kiss was on the dance floor, while "The Great Pretender" by The Platters was playing... Really bad song to listen to after the break up.

The doppels situation will inevitably make them talk to each other again, leading to slowly care for one another and help the neighbors... Together.

I'm sleepy, this is what I can think of rn lol

Loved thinking of it!!

[worldofkuro]

Drowning

Notes: I’m writing this with Painted Smile! Alastor. I just want you all to know that, because if I were to write him like you weren’t with him from the beginning , he would care as much. This is an ask from  @kimoko-james, I hope this little scenario will sooth your heart,  my dear. Ask: Could you maybe write something about how we lost a pet close to us?

You were crying, holding your pillow against your chest.

It was so painful, you felt like drowning.

Alice has given you a kitten for your birthday. You always wanted a pet for yourself. You would cherish it more than your own life. He was so little when Alice gave him to you. He could almost fit in your palm. He was meowing as you nuzzled against him.

His little paws were so cute, touching your face like it was trying to remember your face.

But then, he was gone.

You didn’t know what happened, he was just… no longer by your side. You wouldn’t hear his little paws on the floor anymore. You wouldn’t hear him meowing at Alastor because the man put him back on the floor so he wouldn’t dirty his suit with his fur.

“ Darling?”

You sniffed, turning your head toward Alastor. He didn’t turn on the light, keeping your room in the dark which you silently thank him. You didn’t want him to see you like that and yet…

He walked toward your bed, sitting next to you, caressing your wet cheeks. You let go of your pillow before going on his laps, sighing in bliss when you felt his arms wrapped around your frame.

“ He is gone…”

He listened to you as you poured out your heart to him. You kind of expected Alastor to mock you. He wasn’t a fan of animals. He didn’t understand your love for them, but he respected it. You were having so many bad thoughts about yourself. Did you make any mistakes? 

“ How lucky of him.”

You jerked your head toward Alastor. Did he say what you really thought he said? You felt anger swirling inside your body. You weren’t strong enough to play any games today. You opened your mouth but he kissed you quickly, making you shut up.

“ I’m jealous. He knew you all his life. All his memories, as short as they are, are filled with your smiles, your kisses. How can he not be lucky?” he smiled at you, moving away a lock of your hair. “ Come on, dearest. Don’t be sad for giving him the best life he ever had? Being loved by you is the best thing to feel.” He kissed your forehead as you looked down.

Your pet was gone, you would no longer hold him against your chest, you would no longer call his name and beamed as he reacted to it. You would feel pain for losing him. But knowing that the little life he had with you made him at least a little happy, soothed some of your pain.

You looked at Alastor who was still looking at you, observing the pain in your face. You knew he hated seeing you in this state but you couldn’t help it. You felt tears gathered once more in your eyes.

Alastor kissed your eyes, making your tears drop, before standing up and walking toward the record player and putting a vinyl on it. You looked at him as soft music began to feel the air. He walked back toward you, before holding his hand toward you. You took his hand after wiping your eyes and gasped as he tugged you against his chest.

He began to balance you from right to left, softly against him. You kept your head against his chest, listening to his beating heart. 

“ I want you to smile after the song is over.”

You hiccuped,looking at him, not sure of yourself. He was so obsessed with your smile but you didn’t know if you were ready to smile right now. As you felt dread when the song was coming to an end, Alastor restarted it. 

You looked at him, blinking. He kept dancing with you, smiling down at you, going to the record player each time the song was coming to an end to restart it.

You closed your eyes as his arms caged you against him. You knew he didn’t like you in this state, mostly because it means you weren’t thinking about him, but you know he would do anything to make you smile.

And just like, you smiled a little bit. Just like the song that was on repeat, you would start again your life, bearing your loss. But you wouldn’t be alone, Alastor would always be here to keep you from drowning.

[pascaloverx]

OUR SECRET — MYG

final chapter

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: It was a beautiful journey to write this fanfic. But unfortunately, it comes to an end in this chapter. I will miss all the readers of this fanfic, which was so precious to me. Thank you all, and until next time.

PREVIOUS

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Upon reflection, this philosophy could be right, but no one mentions that sometimes, just sometimes, life gives you lemons and you don't have the strength for anything else. It's been two months since your baby passed away. You're trying to move forward, but the path ahead seems so murky, as if there's nowhere to go. Since your daughter's passing, you and Yoongi have been trying to maintain a sense of peace, but it feels like a hollow peace. He works all day and only comes home late at night. You've returned to work as a book editor, doing some freelance work from home.

"How is this going to be?" You ask, with the laptop in your lap, as you stare at the corrections needed for the new book that some new author wants to publish at the publishing house where you work. Yoongi looks at you, bringing a plate of food that he's trying to learn to cook.

"What do you mean by that?" Yoongi speaks as he hands you a plate and takes another for himself. You look, trying to understand if he hasn't noticed that you've been treated like a child since your daughter died.

"I mean, husband, that I know you've been neglecting your concert schedule and what should have been your tour with the boys, because of me. It's noble of you, but you know that I can take care of myself, right?" You say, tasting the macaroni that Yoongi made. He's a good cook.

"Wife, I'm not just doing this for you. It's just that I didn't plan on working at this time. But believe me, I'm working on a new album." Yoongi says as he turns on the television to watch the sports channel. At least that's what you think he's watching.

"Even so, I may seem fragile, but I can be alone. I can even call you while you're away. I don't want you to neglect your life because of me. I'll be here when you come back, no matter where you're from." You say as you set your laptop on the table and sit close to him. You continue eating the macaroni he made. Eventually, both of you finish eating, and you decide to put some music on the television. He looks at you angrily for changing the channel from sports. Then you extend your hand to him, hoping he'll take it so you can dance. After some grumbling, he gets up and pulls you close by your waist.

"You know it's weird for us to dance like this, for no reason after dinner, right?" Yoongi asks, and you feel a bit awkward about saying that you're trying to be spontaneous. It's been a while since you and he have done anything cute together.

"Loving someone means doing senseless things with them, you know? And I think it's been a while since the last time we were romantically together. Our beginning was all secretive and full of passion. Then we had a dramatic breakup that resulted in a surprise pregnancy that left us both grieving for our daughter. We're married now, but I feel like we barely dated. Maybe now is the time for us to do cute, silly, and romantic things." You confide in Yoongi as you rest your head on his shoulder, and you both continue dancing slowly.

"I don't regret any of this, though. Our love story is confusing. Maybe even complicated. But at least I have you. And you have me. And I may not show it very well, but you are the most precious thing I have now. I love my fans, I love my group, but my love for you is greater than the success I have. I know it took a long time for me to say this to you, and I'm really sorry for not being the man you deserved, but I want to be now. Know that." Yoongi says, pulling his head back slightly, looking at you, and you immediately kiss him. A calm and peaceful kiss. Exactly how you want your love to be.

"You know… I could go on tour with you if you need me to. And I think in the future, we can consider expanding our love, but for now, it would be good to take some time to reconnect, you know." You say with your mouth still close to Yoongi's, who gives you a few pecks while seeming very lost in your lips to care much about what you're saying.

"I think this part of reconnecting is very important. Do you want to start now?" Yoongi says and kisses you. A deeper kiss, and extremely needy. Needy for you. You try to show that you feel so much I miss his kisses as much as he does. The truth is, you want Yoongi. You want to give a chance to a flame that has been extinguished for some time. Yoongi holds your face gently but firmly and intensifies the kiss. His hands roaming your body make you feel alive.

"Honey, I think we should take this reconnection to the bedroom, don't you think?" You speak as you move away from him a little and walk at a pace very slowly to your room. Your heart feels like it's going to escape through your mouth, because of your nervousness. But then Yoongi grabs your hand and spins you around.

"I love you." He says smiling slightly and kissing you. You know he loves you. And you feel the same way about him. You then pull him to bed and there you reconnect in the most beautiful way.

Your story continues to be a lesson for some time that not every love story happens in the same way. You loved each other and just when you were separating, you discovered that together you could be better. With Yoongi you faced grief. And with you, Yoongi matured. Fortunately, years later you adapted to married life and he was able to return to being a world-famous singer. You have a mature relationship filled with reconnections. Every year you go to the cemetery to take flowers for your daughter. It seems that sometimes finding a happy ending means going through many barriers. But you're trying to live your happily ever after with Yoongi.

[99hook]

heart to heart

a/n: this is just a short little fic about slow dancing in the kitchen. i’m working on gaining my inspo and motivation to write like i used to. thanks for being patient with me🫶🏼

The silence between the two of you was undeniably unsettling. You were washing dishes to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tensions, but the clinks of the plates sounded shrilling in that otherwise quiet kitchen.

It was as if you were in the same room, yet worlds apart. In each other’s reach, but somehow still too far to touch.

It had been this way for a while. Your lives didn’t mesh as easily as they did in the beginning. You’re both busier, he’s always traveling, you’re always at work, and it was clear to see that it was taking a toll you both.

You heard him sigh at the table. If you turned around, he’d be watching you. There’s things you both want to say but neither of you want to run the risk of another explosive fight.

The last plate was washed and you turned off the water, only then realizing how heavy that silence felt. You kept your eyes on the empty sink just so you wouldn’t have to turn around and look at him, but you could still feel his stare burning a hole through you.

Then, you heard the legs of the chair slide on the floor, and that previously silent kitchen had the melody of a song you didn’t recognize softly playing through it.

Tyler’s hand gently grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. You saw the absolute exhaustion in his low eyes. The look of defeat crossing every inch of his face. You were both depleted, all the fighting finally catching up to you.

You shot him a look, as if you wanted to resist his attempt to pull you into his chest, but you knew you weren’t strong enough to fight it.

The second your head rested against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you, all the previous anger that had been eating away at you completely disintegrated.

All that was left, was longing for that exact moment. How long you’ve missed being wrapped up in his arms, the scent of his cologne and the safe feeling you got when he held you.

You missed it more than you realized until you finally had it back. Once there was no more fight left in either of you, the first thing you wanted was his touch, and the first thing he gave you was just that.

You felt his finger cup underneath your chin, raising your head to look into his eyes. The previous stoic expression that he perfected so well was much softer now. His eyes were a little brighter, filled with some hope for the first time in weeks.

You both started swaying to the music, a song you were trying to zone in on so that you could remember it as the one that might end up being your song.

He gave you the slightest smile, and you returned one for the first time in a while. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss to it, before he held it over his heart.

“I know things are kind of rocky right now, but no matter how hard this gets, I still want to do whatever it takes to make this work.” He whispers.

You nodded, swaying slowly as his words played on repeat in your mind.

“As long as you promise to always dance with me, I think we’ll be fine.” you smirked, and one of his own followed immediately after, along with a chuckle filled with relief. All the tensions finally easing.

“You have my word.” He says before he raises your hand and spins you, then pulls you back into his chest.

You both broke out into silly smiles, still swaying in the middle of the kitchen. His hand left your hip to cup your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over your skin.

“I love you, no matter what.” He says, before his lips land softly on yours. The first kiss in way too long, and something about it felt like the very first time.

You got lost with each other. The song was far over by the time you finally managed to pull apart. Once again, the kitchen was silent, but you were still swaying, you didn’t want that moment to end.

“Play it again.” You smiled, and he leaned over to tap his phone lying on the counter. The song started again, and his hands found your waist once more.

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and rested your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart coupling with the soft tune humming through the speakers.

You felt his arms tighten around you, lips placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, and from then on, the two of you danced to that same song on repeat until the sun started peeking through the curtains.

———

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