#time and time passing and time changing things

[claraoswalds]

This is a brand new science for me, and I love it. The language of luck. 'Cause what is a coincidence but a form of accident? Two things bumping together unexpectedly. Like you and me.

[dduane]

Today's auroral shenanigans

Relatively speaking, yesterday night (May 11/12) was a bit of "not much" for aurora-watchers, compared to the night of the 10th/11th. (Which, to be fair, was a most unusual event, and it wouldn't be surprising if it wasn't equaled for a long, long time.)

Nonetheless, the Sun continues to be in an interesting mood at the moment... specifically the big sunspot region AR3664, which is the one responsible for the auroral extravaganza of May 10th. You can just see it in this next image, getting ready to rotate away from us around the Sun's rightward limb.

(For those interested in scale: that complex of sunspots is about fifteen times the diameter of the Earth. You could drop the whole planet into the middle of the biggest one and lose it. A timelapse video of its growth is over here at YouTube, if you're interested.)

As AR3664 continues to spit out CMEs and flares, the NOAA has issued a geomagnetic storm watch for today, tonight and tomorrow—with the suggestion that conditions like those of the night of the 10th may in the relatively short term be about to repeat themselves.

This is a "watch" rather than a "warning," reflecting some uncertainty over exactly how the various incoming coronal mass injections are likely to behave on reaching Earth orbit. (Also, the CMEs aren't being aimed straight at us, but off to one side as the sunspot region rotates further and further toward the sun's edge: so this adds somewhat to the unpredictability of it all.)

The animation below comes from the SOHO spacecraft's LASCO C3 coronagraph instrument. It starts on May 10th and runs through until early on the morning of May 12th. You can see the newest incoming CMEs right at the end of it.

(BTW, I think the two bright objects to right and left of the Sun are probably comets passing through, as LASCO images normally mask out any planets that would be in view.)

Anyway, as for what this means for auroral activity tonight? It's tough to tell as yet. The planetary K index (which expresses the relative strength of geomagnetic storms) has dropped back down into near-baseline levels at the moment.

But when those new CMEs and the solar wind associated with them hits the atmosphere, things may change suddenly.

We'll soon see...

And an afterthought: AR3664 will soon be off around the Sun's edge, and invisible to us. It'll be interesting to see what happens to it after that.

The Sun takes 27 days to rotate, as a whole: the poles take longer, the equatorial regions a shorter time. In a couple of weeks or less, what will greet us, rotating around toward Earth's POV on that left-hand side? Will AR3664 have dissolved and vanished away, as sunspot groups so often do... or grown even bigger?

ETA 1, 12 May 2024, 1820 UT: Like a kitty coughing up hairball after cosmic hairball, AR has popped yet another X-class flare.

ETA 2, May 13 2024, 0100 IDT / 0000 UT: New G3 storm warning dropped.

[moondirti]

ghoap x nanny! reader / 18+ / previous ft. surveillance. handjobs. voyeurism. mild s/m. dirty talk.

They check up on you when they can.

Price wasn't exaggerating when he doled out the mission details. It's a tough one. Grueling. The type that necessitates four flights a week and days of little to no sleep, the men fuelled on nothing but a snow-balling urgency to get it done. The target is a slippery fuck, with connections that transport him across the globe at the first sign of conflict. They come close to apprehending him only once, and nothing comes of it but the exacerbated threat of nuclear war as the bastard starts to squeak like a cornered mouse. Gaz has a near constant migraine. Soap stops being fun around the two week mark, exhaustion slowing his tongue. Ghost grows more unhinged with his kills, punching blades through the throats of anyone who dares get in their way.

But still, they check on you.

Isla occupies a quarter of their headspace at all times; half when they don't have to dedicate their focus to the operation. It's the longest they've ever spent away from their girl, the withdrawals hitting them like a bag of bricks. They do whatever's necessary, then, to tune into the nanny cams they have set up around the house, lest Johnny cries about the way her hands dimple when she uncurls a fist again. Or worse – before Simon forgets what tethers him to humanity.

They find the two of you are always doing something.

Which isn't a surprise. You had mentioned your background in early childhood education; they just thought that it'd been a device to impress them. But it's clear that you're eager to put your degree to use when they see you setting up yet another enrichment activity for their daughter and encouraging her to engage.

The first time, they had just arrived on base. It'd been five hours since they've seen you last and already, Johnny had pulled his phone to log onto the monitoring app he had installed.

Sure enough, you were in the same overalls they saw you in last, Isla changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas after her bath. You had her set on her play mat, but replaced the dangling toys for newer, more colourful ones. As she reached for them, you would sound out the shade in a high-pitched voice and grin excitedly when she'd babble back, as if aaaah! meant green.

He felt his heart tug something fierce, caught between endearment and unease at missing out, before getting dressed for debrief.

The third time, you let them know you could tell when the nanny cam is in active use. Not accusatorially, of course – it unfolded in a way too innocent to be anything but a whammy on their part.

They were in a humvee on exfil after being ambushed by the local army – soldiers with blood money lining their pockets, tasked with dispatching the bloodhounds that keep sniffing their patron's trail. Simon had watched a little boy get caught in the crossfire and decided it was imperative to check if Isla was okay, despite her being hundreds of miles away and off anyone's radar.

You're the first thing he saw, carrying the weight of a huge plastic storage container filled with water. In it, there were several rubber animals that inspired a fit of squeals somewhere off screen. You had laughed, a little out of breath, and he remembers the relief that flooded his chest at the dual sounds. Like the cold lick of waves across scorching sand.

As you'd passed by the camera, you stopped and crouched so your face would be in view.

"Isla likes splashing around in the water. I'm thinking of getting her a paddling pool." And you lifted the container as if you would ever need to justify the way you take of their daughter. "Hope you guys are well."

Johnny murmured from beside him. "Forgot aboot th' status light."

The seventh– ninth– maybe twelfth time (having lost count), it was just in time to catch you on your way out with Isla in tow.

They'd tuckered down in a shitty motel, awaiting the next word from Laswell, all four of them in one room. Gaz had been given the bed as consolation for the torn tendon in his knee, and Price had claimed the couch with nothing more than a growl about his back needing it. Thus, Ghost and Soap found themselves on the floor, the latter man tucked under his partner's arm, the other occupied with checking in on the porch feed. The time difference made it so that it was midday where you were.

You were dressed – and Simon recalls it as clearly as the day you met – in a green wrap skirt and tulip hat, their darling girl in a shade of pink that complimented its petals, sat on your hip as you struggled with her buggy. They forgot to give you the run down on unfolding it before they left, too overwhelmed with everything else to pay mind to the little things.

Johnny had jumped for the two-way talk function immediately, tapping on the little mic before clearing his throat.

"There's a latch under th' left arm. Flip it 'n' it shuid unfold automatically."

You jumped, pausing to face the porch cam with wide eyes. "Oh– Oh my god. Haha," Following his directions, you were able to get it open with little fuss. "that is so embarrassing. Pretend you never saw that."

Simon had his balaclava on, uncomfortable with going bare-faced in an unfamiliar room, but Johnny still felt the soft smile splitting his cheeks. Its warmth was unmistakable.

"Nonsense, lass. 'twas cute."

You bloomed at that, wiggling a little in place. Though the flustered moment hadn't lasted long, for Isla's mouth fell open at the recognition of her father's voice, chubby hand reaching out in its direction.

"Bldha! Pffffpp."

"That's right, baby! That's Da." You waddled closer to have her inspect the strange contraption hooked above their mailbox, turning your attention back to them. "We're going on a narration walk! Isla's gotten so good at recognising animals because of them. But it was so nice to hear from you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Gah!"

Simon locked the phone when neither of them could muster a response, emotion rushing their throats like white-river rapids. Hot tears seep into his side, a pair of misty eyes buried in his ribs.

"I know. I know, Johnny. S'alright. We'll see 'er again soon."

Now, he's made good on his promise.

All three rogue missiles located and dismantled in record time, meaning their slimy target could no longer use them as a shield. He'd been in shackles within the next day, wrangled somewhere in Istanbul and shipped off to a maximum security prison in The Hague. The task force left no loose thread untugged, which took an extra day but will be worth it in the long run. Price promises to reward them with a round, on him.

They're on their way back to base when Johnny tunes in a final time.

He's sure that Isla is asleep by now, confirmed by the baby monitor that focuses on the sprawled form in her cot. It would be best to exit the app and doze off like the other men – lord knows he needs it – but he can't help the itch to look for you too. To click through every channel, his curiosity unquenched, until–

Ah. There.

On the couch, bare legs stretched out along its length. A throw blanket tangled between them, one bent at the knee to support the book you're currently fingering through. The sight alone is enough to make him salivate.

But then he notices the thin material of your top.

Practically translucent. No doubt made for bed. You aren't wearing a bra, either, and the darker shade of your nipples practically flaunts itself through the fabric. They're too soft to protrude and cast a shadow on your breasts, but he's still able to get a good impression of what you would look like nude. Some part of him wilts with guilt at the shameless voyeurism he's subjecting you to.

Another part sends blood to the weight between his legs.

"Bleedin' Christ."

"Hm?" Simon grunts, disturbed by the restless pace of Johnny's heart. His head lifts off his shoulder, blinking warily to clear the silky gossamer of sleep threading his eyelids, before focusing on the grainy footage on his partner's screen.

"Ghost." He whines, hips bucking in desperation when the larger man does nothing. They haven't had the chance to relieve themselves since that night at the motel, and even then it had been a messy frotting as they tried not to disturb their sleeping comrades.

"A'right. Off to the bathroom with you, then."

He doesn't turn off of the live feed even as they cram into the compact space. Though he should. He needs to. Not because you're aware of their surveillance – you're far too engrossed in your book to pay mind to the blinking red light on the nanny cam. But because only depraved men gets off to unsuspecting hens, especially the ones they hired in good faith to take care of their child while they're away.

It's a dirty, dirty thrill that roars through him as Simon wraps an arm around his waist, palming his hard-on through his trousers. And it's a dirty thrill he wants no part of.

"Practically leakin' in your pants, boy. First time you see a pair of tits?" In the small mirror before him, he watches his pants get pulled down past his ass, underwear stained a deeper swatch of blue where his tip spits prespend.

It might as well be the first time, way he's humping Simon's hand like an over-eager mutt. Though he can't manage to choke it out through the rough groans pressing his vocal chords. Instead, what escapes him is a pathetic mess of trembling letters. "S'not... fookin, not– not–"

"Shhh, it's okay. She's jus' so pretty, yeah? Can't help but chub up and beg me to rub your aching cock, wishing it was her darlin' hand wrapped 'round you instead. I know."

"Nn, nae, Sim- Si– I wouid never... Ah!"

It's dry. A little raw. He makes no effort to lube his calloused palm to help it glide easier along Johnny's length, but he knows his boy better than he knows himself sometimes. That he needs pain when he's doing something bad like this, or else he'll lose himself to the guilt. A little bit of penance for the Catholic.

"Don' lie to me. Y'can't. But tha's alright," He pulls the foreskin off the head of his uncut mass, kneading a bit into his frenulum to watch the way white oozes against red. "I think about it too."

"A-Aye?"

"Hm. Think 'bout ya swallowing my cock while I sit 'er on my face. Bet she tastes sweet, like nectar. Jus' look at the thing." Which he does. You're seated a bit differently than you had been before. Less liberal. Wound up tight, with your nose buried in your book and your toes curled beneath your feet. Surely captured by some tense plot line or the other. "Would make you clean her cunt after I pump 'er full. Or vice versa, if she's into tha'."

"Yer a-aff yer heid... Fuck, I cannae–"

"That's it, Johnny. Let go, boy." Simon's strokes keep at the top, tugging in short, rough movements over the phone. The blanket now covers you fully, but it's no matter. The image of your breasts are now seared into both their minds, an array of fantasies unfurling before them, each nastier than the last. "Jus' like that."

Thick ropes of cum streak over the screen and sink countertop. It's weeks worth of pent up frustration, a culmination of despair and desire as a stuttered moan claws up Johnny's throat. The hand leaves his cock only when he starts shooting blanks, clenching tight at the overstimulation.

Simon makes him lick the mess off his palm.

(And unbeknownst to them, they'd hit the mic on their way to the bathroom.

You'd heard the whole thing.)

[luveline]

would you do a james fainting fic 🙏🙏

—James doesn’t like you, but he’ll come to your rescue. fem, 1.5k The office is hot. 

James dabs at his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Remus rubbing his eye. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You look up from the paper on your desk. When you realise he isn’t asking you, you look away, your lips pressing into a tight line. James tries not to show he’s noticed. 

“Fine,” Remus mutters. “Fucked off ‘cos of the portal changing again. I hate these long passwords.” 

“Are you hot or is it just me?” 

You clear your throat. Usually, unless it’s Remus who’s spoken first or James has said something you find ridiculous, you won’t interrupt. “I’m really warm,” you say, “do you think I can open the window?” 

“Like you can reach it, shorts. I’ll do it.” James jumps up from his seat. Whether you’re short or not has nothing to do with it. James is taller, and he holds it against you diligently. 

He rounds your desks. The sun is worse on his skin than the heat alone. He can’t imagine how awful you must feel to have it on the side of your neck all day; in the half minute he stands there opening the window, the heat makes him queasy. 

He tugs the blinds down enough to shield you. It’ll help the entire office, he thinks. Not just you. If you thought he was doing something nice you’d only interrogate his motives until you both turned irate, and that’s the last thing anyone needs today. 

James isn’t sure how you and he ended up not liking one another. He’s never met anybody he didn’t like that wasn’t a massive wanker, and you are but you’re not, not really. When you first started he’d actually thought you were cute, and funny, if a little quiet. It didn’t matter because James is used to quiet people. But one thing turned to another, he’d used your mug without washing it, you’d left him off of the department emails for the quarter, then the snipping started. Constant nitpicking and bickering. You make it too easy, and so what if he likes how you look when you’re mad? It doesn’t hurt anybody to put your mug in the stockroom and your lunch on a different shelf. If anything, he’s keeping you vigilant. 

You don’t look vigilant. You don’t say anything as James sits back down, even though he hits his knee for the hundredth time on his desk. You usually love it. Sometimes when you’re tired he does it on purpose to give you a reason to keep going till 4:30. 

“Are you okay?” James asks finally, eyeing your face. “You look funnier than usual.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” He should stop being mean. You look like you’re gonna pass out. 

Remus peeks over his computer screen. “You don’t look well,” he says. 

“I’m fine.” You roll your seat back. 

James pushes back at the same time. “Wait a second–”

You’re standing before James can stop you, but he stands up anyways, and he takes your elbow into his hand though he shouldn’t. You give him the most peculiar look, almost like you’re enjoying his touch, just for those two seconds, before your chin dips down and your eyes squeeze closed, and all of you goes slack. 

James grabs you at the precipice of a bad fall. 

You’re still as a doll in his hands. He leans back with a quick sigh, his arm curling over the small of your back and upward. Your legs aren’t holding your weight, and you begin to slip. 

James could keep you up, he doesn’t go to the gym for nothing, but Remus rushes to his aid and pushes your chair back, helping him set you down on the floor. “What do we do?” Remus asks urgently. 

James puts his hand behind your head. You’re slack. When he touches your face, your skin is as hot as the heart of a furnace. 

“Can you get some water?” he asks Remus. 

James is peculiarly calm. He knows you’re just hot, it’s not uncommon for people to faint in high temperatures, and he’s honestly confident in his ability to look after you. It’s very sad to see you unwell, of course, and his heart is beating fast as he takes in your slack mouth. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, cupping your cheek gently. He gives your face a little shake, reluctant to be rough with you while you’re vulnerable, even if some force would help. “Hey, can you hear me? You’re okay, can you open your eyes?” 

Nothing. He leans down a touch to listen for your breath, and it’s fine, if a tad fast. 

Remus comes back with a cup of water and Sirius, which is predictable but not super helpful. “Jesus,” Sirius says. “I’ll call an ambulance.” 

“She’ll die of embarrassment,” Remus says. 

“She’s coming around,” James says, patting your cheek, thrilled when your eyelashes twitch. “I think we should go into the break room, is it empty? We can sit her on the sofa.” 

“You don’t think we should do something a bit more drastic?” Sirius asks. 

James feels rather defensive of you. Remus is right, you would die of embarrassment if they called an ambulance, and he’s sure you’re fine. You have to be fine. “She just fainted, it’s so hot in here. Go open a window in the break room and we’ll wait for her to come around.” 

Sirius glares playfully at being told what to do, but he goes, and Remus kneels down beside James with a cup of water. Someone from the front of the office asks if you’re alright, but James misses what they’re saying as you let out a whine. 

All of a sudden, his attention is fully yours. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes open slowly, lashes heavy like they’re thick with honey. You take in a deep, deep breath through your nose, and you blink, and you turn into his hand where it’s holding your cheek with all the familiarity of a lover. “James,” you mumble. 

His stomach aches. He ignores it. “You okay? Can you look at me properly? I need to make sure you’re fine.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, face pressed to his hand. 

“Just look at me. Just for a second.” 

You pull yourself with clear annoyance from his hand and open your eyes properly. He can pinpoint the moment you realise who he is, how you're touching, and he can’t explain the pang he gets when you rush up and away from his touch. “Oh, fuck,” you mumble, dropping your head, your fingers to your forehead and your thumb covering your eyes. 

“Hey, don’t move around so much.” He continues to be soft. You might have realised who it is that’s trying to look after you, and you might not want him to, but he’ll be damned if he lets your bickering stop him from making sure you’re as okay as he’d claimed to everyone else. “Are you okay?” 

“Did I…” 

“You fainted. Don’t worry, I caught you. Take it easy, okay? Have this.” 

He presses the cup of water into your hand.

Somewhere behind him, Remus has moved away, and is seemingly fending off the masses of people coming to offer assistance. 

You see them looking at you behind him and cover your face. 

James shuffles forward quickly. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna let anyone see you. I’m saving this embarrassment all for myself. Please drink your water.” 

“Did everybody see me fall?” 

“They saw us engaged in a loving cwtch. It was very romantic.” 

You sip your water. In truth, you don’t look much better for passing out, and James can’t get the feeling of your face out of his hand. He wants to touch you again, his fingers hesitating an inch from your knee. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he says. “You don’t control the weather. Do you?” 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“Then why are you sorry? It was alright. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? We just want to make sure you’re okay. Sirius wanted to call an ambulance,” —you visibly baulk— “and I told him no, don’t worry. Then all the attention would be on you, and not me for my valiant rescue.” 

“Was I heavy?” you ask, your mumbling nearly friendly. 

“I can bench press two twenty.” 

“That… doesn’t mean anything to me.” 

“You’re nothing I couldn’t handle, shortcake. Do you think you can stand up? I’ll take you into the break room. You can lay down on the sofa.” 

You make a soft sound James won’t soon forget and put your hand out for his help. He doesn’t have to force you. You don’t have to ask. He helps you stand and keeps an arm behind your back, shielding you from the worried and curious gazes of your coworkers. 

You press your cheek to his chest. 

Remus looks at you both like you’ve been body-snatched, but it’s too late to wuss out now. 

[poisonlove]

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

• Reader is about to leave for work. Wednesday asks her if she's forgotten anything, and Reader gives her a kiss. Wednesday turns red and opens her hand to reveal Reader's keys/wallet/etc., saying

'I meant this, but it's appreciated.' Or smt like that!

forgetting something ?

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X fem!reader

Words: 4k

Warning: fluffy

Author notes: I've received a lot of requests, I'll try to do them all!

Happy reading

"Love, what's the password for your phone?" I ask curiously as my eyes glance at the smartphone in my hand.

I found myself in Ophelia Hall in Wednesday's room with Enid, wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend. Enid was doing Things' manicure while sharing some gossip about some outcasts at school. Meanwhile, Wednesday Addams was making the most of her writing time.

Ignoring me.

The tapping of the keyboard abruptly ceases and Wednesday slowly turns towards me. Her brown eyes turn cold and dark as they meet Enid's, who visibly trembles in the face of that icy, penetrating intensity.

"Things, I'll finish later..." Enid whispers, her nervous smile betraying the fear inspired by Wednesday's gaze.

Without saying another word, Enid jumps up from her bed and hastily exits the room. The door slams behind her, resonating in the silent air as Wednesday watches her pass with an impassive expression, lips pressed in a subtle smile of satisfaction.

"How many times have I told you not to scare her?" I say with a small smile on my lips, and Wednesday looks at me without batting an eyelid.

"I didn't scare her," her voice is calm and controlled, without any hint of remorse or concern.

"You did," I sigh at her comment while absentmindedly playing with her phone.

"As you wish," Wednesday replies calmly, showing no particular emotion.

I smile shyly at her response.

"I told you not to use vulgar nicknames in front of others and you keep doing it," Wednesday justifies herself, looking at me curiously.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Vulgar?" I ask, feeling puzzled.

Wednesday nods timidly, without a hint of a smile on her lips.

I sigh loudly.

"Anyway... Could you tell me the password?" I ask again, wanting to change the subject to avoid ruining the atmosphere.

Wednesday tilts her head to the side and scrutinizes me with her gaze.

We've been together for a month, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to her quirks.

"My favorite plant" Wednesday replies in a monotone voice.

"Of course" I reply sarcastically as I type in 'Belladonna.' The phone unlocks, and I smile as I see the background: me and Wednesday embracing during the Poe Cup. The brunette had a stoic look while she look at me smile at the camera.

"Nice background," I say teasingly and Wednesday rolls her eyes at my comment.

"I know," she replies monotone.

I could see a small smile threatening to emerge at any moment.

"But don't you have any games?" I ask disappointedly, and Wednesday stares intensely at me.

"I barely use it to write to you," she justifies herself, and I nod understandably.

Wednesday and technology were two completely different things and couldn't fit in the same sentence.

"So you only have WhatsApp?" I ask curiously, looking at Wednesday.

"You're distracting me unnecessarily," Wednesday mutters annoyed by my questions. She turns her back on me and starts writing her story again.

"Thanks, Wed" I say sarcastically, and Wednesday continues to press the keys of the typewriter ignoring me.

"Why am I with her, I don't know," I mutter to myself, turning my gaze to her phone. I scroll through some pages and look at the apps.

I  choice YouTube.

"Because you love me," Wednesday replies loudly without looking at me "and anyway, I can hear you, be careful," she adds in a cold voice.

Was that a threat?

"Right" I reply aloud.

I start searching for what interests my girlfriend. Hundreds of horror stories and interviews of real murders, true photos, and thousands of hypotheses about monsters, unsolved murders, and much more.

Creepy but Wednesday's style.

"Y/n?" I raise my head from the phone and turn my attention to Wednesday who had once again interrupted her writing hour.

"Tell me, darling" I ask with a smile on my lips.

"Shouldn't you be going to work at the café?" Wednesday asks with curiosity.

My smile fades and I widen my eyes in realization: I had forgotten.

I quickly get up from the bed in a panic

"shit shit" I put on my shoes and look around the room in concern. "Where's the jacket?" I wonder, and I look around the room with worry. "You threw it on Enid's bed," Wednesday exclaims disapprovingly, and I smile hugely.

I internally thank Wednesday for her incredible memory.

I walk towards the door, but Wednesday's voice makes me stop.

"Forgetting something?" She asks seriously.

  I sigh at the unfortunate moment of being romantic. "You're right" I walk towards her and lean down towards her face to unite our lips in a sweet kiss.

As we separate, I notice that Wednesday's cheeks were completely flushed.

"You were forgetting the car keys, idiot," says Wednesday embarrassed, showing me the keys.

I had left them on her desk an hour ago when I arrived.

"Oh, thanks," I say embarrassed, and Wednesday smiles widely making my heart race a mile a minute.

"But I appreciated it" she confesses quickly and I smile back getting lost in her deep brown eyes.

Yes, definitely, now I remember why I'm with her.

[mariinaworld]

PORNSTAR PART.2

Pornstar! Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader

Summary: After your movie with Natasha, the redhead can't stop thinking about you without knowing that you're thinking about her too.

PART.1

WC: 7,7k (sorry again)

Warnings: SMUT, Dom!Natasha/Sub!Reader, masturbation, blowjob, squirt, beating(a little bit), curse words, unprotected sex, Nat has a penis.

MINORS DNI MASTERLIST N.R

This fic is an adaptation, all rights reserved to the real author.

A/n: Thinking about writing a part 3, but I don't want it to become a series

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

You only had time to blink and look around the room to realize that Natasha was gone.

But also, what were you waiting for?

Kisses ? Smiles? Cuddles?

By God, she was a porn star, she had done her job and, well... You had done yours. There was nothing else to do there.

“Y/n, my dear. You exceeded all my expectations!” Carol said, coming closer to you and holding out a white robe to you.

Only at that moment do you realize that you were naked in front of several men. You feel absurdly embarrassed and your face heats up so quickly that you think you're going to explode.

“Don’t be like that…” Carol’s smile grew wider when she saw you quickly tie your robe. “They are more than used to seeing beautiful naked women. And they are professional enough

“How should I feel? I have fulfilled your ridiculous contract, and now I will return to my home. Our ties end here.” you say, getting up and disguising your wobbly legs.

All those orgasms had consequences.

“Don’t talk like it was a great torment for you, Y/n. We both know you enjoyed the moment... I would love to close more contracts with you.”

“That’s not going to happen, Carol.” you say giving her a wry smile. “If that was all you had to tell me…”

You try to take a step, but she holds your arm. Her eyes penetrated yours and a naughty smile appeared on her lips.

“Y/n... That rebellious way of yours makes me so horny.”

You're sure your expression reflected all your indignation, because she pulled away and laughed at you.

“Okay, I understand that your thing is someone like Natasha, but if by any chance you change your mind or want to try something new... You know my number, just call me, baby…” she approached to kiss your cheek and walked away again. “I confess that I will wait for this call with anxiety, even without knowing if, one day, you will accept my proposal.”

Winking at you, she threw her blonde hair back and walked off the set swaying, leaving you completely stunned. She had just flirted with you without any shame.

This pornographic, naughty and obscene world…

A week later...

"Natasha, please, please!"

Your moans echoed through the office, while Carol had a satisfied smile on her face. Natasha wanted to have that same smile, but she just couldn't. Something very, very strange was happening to her.

A week had passed since the recording. A week in which Natasha's dick never got up.

Her dick would only rise if she thought about you.

Natasha had already refused three scenes claiming she was feeling ill, and Carol had ignored it because she knew the redhead had a sensitive stomach, but she knew it was a lie. Natasha thought about you and her dick went up, she thought about someone else, it went down with the same ease. What the hell is that? She also wanted to know, but had no answer.

Like now. You were moaning while being fucked by Natasha on Carol's computer screen, and the redhead's cock was so hard that it hurt in her underwear. But if she were to have sex with any other woman, she knew she wouldn't be able to do it.

“Natasha, Natasha, wake up!” Carol knocked on the table, making the redhead look at her. “Where were you thinking?”

“What?"

“I've been calling you for an hour and you're there, with this stupid look on your face, looking at the computer screen…” Natasha rolled her eyes. “I know Y/n is beautiful and everything, but it seems like you’re under a spell. In fact, we have to talk.”

Calor smiled humorlessly and Natasha swallowed, knowing exactly what it was about.

“Why did you cum inside Y/n?”

Natasha looks at Carol and takes a deep breath, knowing that she could say anything to her, even if she didn't want to, like at that moment, admitting certain things is not always easy.

“I lost control…” Natasha murmurs.

“You never lose control.”

“I know, Carol, I know! But... I kept looking at her, you know? I looked straight into her eyes, while my mind just told me to keep looking at her until I came, look at her until I came, look at her…”

“I understand, Natasha, I understand.” Carol interrupted Natasha, leaning against her chair, analyzing the redhead. “You know what... I know very well what you need.”

“And what do I need?”

“You’re going to get this here.” Carol took the DVD with the edited scenes from Natasha's film with you and placed it in front of her. “You going to Y/n’s house with the excuse that he went there just to show the edited film, you going to seduce her and have sex with her. I was clear? She's hot as hell, Romanoff, and I think it's been a long time since you've starred with a woman so… Normal. You just need one more fuck to forget her for good.”

One more fuck... To forget you? Natasha doesn't think that's likely, a woman who is a real woman doesn't forget a woman like you. But if this was an excuse to have you in her bed, or in your bed, not that she really cared what surface she could have you on again... She should accept it, shouldn't she?

“You're right…” Natasha says, taking the DVD and standing up. “I'm going to do this for both of us, because I know that if she gave you even a little chance, you would have taken her to bed by now.”

Carol looked at the redhead and laughed, twisting her hair into a bun on top of her head.

“True, baby. But I still hope she actually calls me.”

“If it’s up to me, you’ll wait forever” Natasha says laughing towards the door. "Wish me luck.”

“Ah as if you needed it” Carol rolled her eyes as Natasha walked out of the office laughing.

Your apartment was in a middle-class building, on the outskirts of downtown New York. Natasha getting there was easy and quick, as the late afternoon was calm and rush hour was already over. The doorman, a man in his early fifties, called you over the intercom and Natasha thought the first thing she would hear was no. But the doorman smiled and said you were waiting for her at your apartment. Natasha was starting to perk up.

Natasha calls the elevator and after a few minutes the metal door opens. A woman came out and then a redhead, who she identified automatically.

“Wanda...Good to see you.” Natasha smiles, lightly squeezing her hand.

“Good to see you too, Natasha. Y/n is waiting for you upstairs.” Wanda laughed and walked away.

There wasn't time for Natasha to say anything. Before she could even open her mouth, Wanda turned and walked away, leaving the redhead alone again.

Natasha's cock pulsed again, remembering the mission Natasha had ahead of her. The redhead called the elevator again and went to the tenth floor. She presses the doorbell of apartment 1005 and I immediately hear her voice, asking for a moment. Natasha footsteps, a piece of furniture being dragged, followed by a "fuck" loud enough to be heard down the entire hallway and soon after, the door opened, revealing you dressed in a gray blouse and black panties, making Natasha's dick twitch for the thousandth time that morning.

Ah... Damn, and hot Y/n. Natasha thinks.

For a moment, you think your brain was tricking you. I mean, when you heard the doorbell ring through your apartment, the first thing that came to your mind was that Wanda had forgotten something and came back to get it. But of course that wouldn't be it.

Damn destiny always has to conspire against people. Natasha was standing at your door, with a slutty smile on her lips, dressed entirely in black. Aviator-style sunglasses covered her green eyes, but it didn't take much to know that they were at that point of wetting the panties of the coldest woman on the face of the earth. It also didn't take long for you to notice that you were practically half-naked with a horny woman at your door.

“Natasha! Yeah, um... I need to get dressed, Wanda... she... I'm..." shit! Where are the fucking words when you need them?

“Calm down, Y/n.” The redhead said in a solemn tone and walked past you.

She entered as if she was already a resident of the house and walked through the small hall to your living room, where she sat with her legs open and took off her glasses.

I must mention that she made a point of looking you up and down, making you feel even more... Undressed.

“You don’t have to be like this, Y/n. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before, right?”

At his lack of response, Natasha continued. “I'm going to put on a movie for us to watch if you don't mind…” says Natasha looking for her DVD player

“I do care, you arrive here unannounced, enter my house and want to go through my things as if we had known each other for decades” you say, practically huffing with anger.

Natasha tilted her head to the side and slowly analyzed you from top to bottom, with a smile on the corner of her lips.

That expression of "I don't give a fuck about what you just said" was making you even more angry.

“Firstly, yes, I was announced. And your doorman told me you were waiting for me up here. Second… It's just a TV and a DVD player, it's not like I'm going to rob you when you turn your back, because if you turn your back, I'd be busy looking at your beautiful, big ass and I may not have known you for decades, but I think we're already close enough, so... Why so much formality?

“This... This casual way of yours irritates me!” You mutter under your breath, looking at her and seeing her laugh.

“Ah, Y/n, you wouldn't be the first to be irritated by my way of being. But I already showed you once, that I can transform your irritation into multiple orgasms… I can show you again if you want.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking at you defiantly.

Sir… you have to send her away as soon as possible!

“Natasha... I know you're the type of woman who only knows how to talk about sex, orgasms and cumming wildly, and you know, as much as this type of subject doesn't please me, I would stay here and listen to everything you have to say, but... I'm leaving. Seriously, I have to leave soon, so... Can we talk later? I swear I'll listen to you for a whole day, but now I really can't.”

It was obvious that she wasn't going out, but you were going to receive visitors and the last thing you wanted was for William, yes, your ex, to see Natasha with you. Not that I cared about the son of a bitch's opinion.

Romanoff's laugh echoed throughout your apartment, breaking you out of the trance you were in. She looked at you with an amused expression, her eyes full of good humor.

“I'd love to talk to you about sex, orgasms and cumming wildly, Y/n, but that's not why I came here. Sit here, I want to show you something... I promise I'll be quick.”

She raised her eyebrow once again and you gave up, going over to her and sitting next to her. With my remote control in hand, she pressed a button and the television turned on, revealing images... Images of the two of you in bed.

"But this is…"

"Yes my dear. It's the two of us in action. You’ll see how good we are together, Y/n!” Natasha says with a proud smile on her face.

She pressed play and soon the movie started. You were lying down and your belly felt cold when she woke up and started kissing you. You get goosebumps, as if you could feel her skin with every touch she was giving you, on the TV screen. You could see that the film was well edited, because not even five minutes had passed and Natasha was already kissing your breasts. Holy God, your face was on fire and you were squirming unintentionally on the couch, feeling a strange excitement explode in your belly.

“Hot, isn’t it?” Natasha asked, looking directly at you.

You swallow hard, looking down the redhead's body and seeing the gigantic volume that her erection was making.

How did she do it so quickly?

But who did you want to fool?

You were also just as turned on as she was, in less than five minutes.

“Ah, Y/n... “ she murmured, placing two fingers on your chin and lifting it, so that your gaze focused on hers. “If I said that I didn't come here with the intention of fucking you, I would be lying through my teeth. I came here with this intention pounding in my head and I need to know if you want it too. Do you want to fuck me, Y/n?”

For what words, when a simple nod was enough? You nodded and before you could even blink, Natasha had already taken your mouth in hers in a kiss of possession, making you Her tongue dueled with yours, while you felt her erection massaging your womb, her scent intoxicating every corner of your being. You hadn't realized how much you were missing her until that moment, where she slowly felt every corner of your body, applying pressure to the areas where he knew you would shudder and moan into her lips. In a hurry, you put your hands on her blouse, pulling it up until she was left with just a black bra.

Flustered, as you were, you rip off that piece that opened at the front and throw it on the floor, leaving her breasts completely exposed. Natasha laughs at your haste and you even think she would say one of her infamous sentences, but she just threw herself on top of you again, right after ripping off your shirt with the same haste you took off hers. You hear a hoarse moan come out of her throat as she gazes at your bare breasts, with your nipples hard from the excitement she had just given you.

“You know, Y/n... I have to confess something to you.” Natasha looks at you, slowly running her fingers over your stiff nipples. “I haven't had sex since the day we recorded. Because that hot pussy of yours made my dick addicted. I'm fucking addicted to you, my dick only rises when my mind remembers your taste, your body, even when I remember the color of your eyes. So, Detka... When I start, don't you dare stop me.”

"I will not stop." You murmur, kneeling on the couch, almost at her height.

You take your hands to her pants and unbutton the first button, then the second and lower yourself down with her underwear, making her member jump out, thick and pink.

“I will never stop, Natasha, because... I'm addicted to you too.”

It was your only option: either you revealed it, or you said no. And saying the word "no" didn't even become an issue for you. Natasha laughed and sat up, looked towards her own dick and raised an eyebrow. “Touch me, Y/n.”

You bring your hand to her member and take it, moving it down and up slowly. Her dick was hot and touching her like that, you could tell how thick she was. How had she fit inside you?

It wasn't a question you had an answer to, but you think your anatomy had to expand a lot to contain it.

Natasha moaned softly and looked at the movements in her penis, as if she was hypnotized. You increase the speed, feeling your mouth water. “Um… Suck it.”

It wasn't a simple request. It was like an order and you never thought you would feel your panties get wet listening to a woman order you to suck her. You get off the sofa and Natasha adjusts herself, sitting with her spine straight and opening her legs so that you can sit between them. When Natasha saw that you were comfortable, the redhead took your hair with her right hand and caressed your face with her left, before slowly pushing you towards her cock.

You would never be able to fit it all in your mouth, that was a fact. So, you start licking it from bottom to top, and when you reach the glans, you collect the pre-ejaculatory liquid with your tongue. Natasha was delicious and you never thought otherwise. The bittersweet taste sharpened your senses even more and with your excitement raised to its maximum level, you lean over and suck the glans with affection and force, making Natasha move her hips violently, putting her dick in your mouth.

“Fuck...Y/n...I always lose my fucking control with you! Fuck me babe let’s go!” Natasha screamed, tying your hair in a ponytail, and starting to move her hips with impressive agility.

You just open your mouth and let her in for a few seconds, before taking control of the entire situation. You take her penis down your throat, but half of it was still out of your mouth, so you start sucking half of it and masturbating the other half. Natasha looked at you madly, her mouth open, sweat breaking out on her forehead, her light green eyes were now dark, while your cheeks became concave from sucking so much.

But you didn't want to stop. That woman had given you, in a single sex, more orgasms than you had ever achieved with your ex-boyfriend during your entire relationship.

Why would you deny her a quick cum in your mouth? Not to mention it was very exciting to see her so dependent on you like that.

Looking into her eyes, you run your tongue along the opening of her penis, while massaging her testicles with gentleness and precision. She moaned loudly and threw her head back as you went back to sucking her. You feel her dick grow in your mouth, really pulsing. It was wonderful. “Y/n... If you don’t stop now, I’m going to cum.” Natasha roared, looking back at you.

You look at her and take her penis to the opening of your throat, making the glans go deeper and deeper. You feel your eyes widen from making her go so deep and she moans, pressing your head down. Her member pulsed quickly in your mouth and she lifted your head only to make her glans come out of your throat, before spurting her hot cum onto your tongue.

"I'm going to cum! Y/n, fuck, my god, fuck…” Damn! Natasha screamed wildly, while you swallowed and sucked her, without success, as she didn't stop cumming.

After a few minutes, Natasha threw herself on the couch with her eyes still on you, while you cleaned her member with your tongue. The redhead's cum had run down your mouth and neck, but you didn't care. You had just seen that woman moan like never before and come too, apparently.

Maybe it's because of the time she told you that she hadn't had sex, but you decide not to focus too much on that. You let her clean member fall onto her belly, seeing that she was still semi-erect.

You move away a little and take a deep breath, letting the air enter your lungs again. The redhead smiled and approached, taking your chin in her hands. Slowly, she ran her tongue down your neck, collecting all her own semen along the way, until she reached your mouth and kissed you with precision, spreading her own cum across your tongue, surprising you that she didn't feel any disgust or anything like that, like William felt... William... SHIT

You had totally forgotten he was on his way.

Natasha looked indignant when you pushed her and got up, picking up your blouse from the floor and putting it on quickly, before throwing Natasha's blouse in her face, along with the bra. “Quickly, Natasha! Get dressed! Damn, shit, I can’t believe this…”

You mumbled and mumbled and walked back and forth, until you stopped in front of the mirror in the room and fixed your disheveled hair, the hair that Natasha had disheveled, while you deliciously sucked her cock. Had you not yet realized that the redhead was indignant? She was very indignant and there is still some idiot ringing the doorbell non-stop.

“Y/n! Oh, don't say you're going to back out now. Please, you said you would welcome me.”

And yes. An idiot man! “I’m coming, William!” You screamed. “Natasha! For God's sake, haven't you even gotten dressed yet? Wake up, dammit!”

After Natasha finishes getting dressed and once again refuses to hide for her date to happen, you look at the redhead from top to bottom and the doorbell rang once again. William was impatient. If you had any objections to make, they were dismissed completely, as you turned and with hesitant steps made your way to the door. Natasha follows you and as soon as she stopped behind you, you opened the door, revealing William for Natasha to evaluate. First impression of the redhead: tall, brown eyes and a virgin face!

This guy certainly didn't know how to fuck a blow-up doll. “Hi, William,” you murmur, making room for him to pass.

He looked at you and then at Natasha and walked in facing the redhead, analyzing her from top to bottom and the redhead did the same to him. Natasha didn't know who he was or what he meant to you, but with that virgin face, she highly doubted that he would achieve anything with you after meeting her.

Now you knew that having sex with a woman was a thousand times better and the redhead was sure that you would never leave her to be with that idiot.

“Would you let go of her?” Natasha doesn't know, but her subconscious makes her have a total feeling of ownership over you and she doesn't know how to deal with it yet. “Hm... Natasha... this is my ex-boyfriend, William.”

Ah... The ex. Natasha loves meeting them

“Hello, William. I’m her current girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff.” Natasha says, giving him her best smile and extending her hand to him. And of course, completely ignoring the scared look you gave her. “I’m William, the ex-boyfriend and future again.” he said, shaking the redhead's hand.

Audacious. Natasha liked it. However, he didn't know where he was stepping.

"Future? I don’t think Y/n is willing to repeat the menu, if you know what I mean.” Natasha responds by putting her arm around your shoulders and placing a tender kiss on your head. “She’s already with someone better, isn’t that right, Detka?”

The only thing you can do is stutter and mumble nonsense words. "Calm down!" William interrupted the redhead “I know very well who you are!”

"You know ?" Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow..

"Of course I know! Y/n, since when have you been dating porn stars? I know you liked women in college, but damn, are you going crazy?”

“William, calm down, it’s not at all what you’re thinking.” you said, trying to break away from Natasha but she puts her arms around your waist holding you tight against her. “That’s not what you’re thinking at all William, Natasha is just a friend.” You say trying to calm the situation.

“Y/n, you don’t need to be so shy. Detka, after everything we've done, we can't be considered just friends.” Natasha smiles. “William, I am a porn actress and Y/n is in a relationship with me. There’s nothing big about it.” Natasha shrugs, looking at him and waiting for her answer. “Yes, you have a dick!” William spoke in a higher tone of voice, “I don’t even know if it’s right to call you a woman.” Okay, that went too far!

"Oh yes? I don't think this was a problem for Y/n minutes ago, when we were... Natasha puts her index finger on her lips and pretends to think “You know, or rather, I don't know if you know, with that virgin face... But back, when we were fucking like crazy before you pressed that damn bell and interrupted our orgasm.”

There was only an inch left for William's mouth to stop touching the ground. He was perplexed and you were trying really hard not to laugh in his face. The man's gaze alternated between you again, the atmosphere in the entrance hall became too comical for Natasha, while you only knew how to widen your eyes with each passing second.

“Y/n…” William started. “When you said I could come here, I thought we would finally talk and understand each other. But apparently, I was totally wrong. I never imagined you could go so low. A porn film actress? Even more so with…” he analyzed the redhead with a look of disgust “Her! Damn, that’s disgusting, I would never imagine that!”

"You would never imagine that she would find someone a thousand times better than you. Ah yes, the redhead's subconscious decided to join her in this battle, at least once in her life. The man shook his head, looking disappointed and walked past you two, opening the door.

“I hope you are satisfied with this mediocre choice. Just think of everything I could give you, all the stability, comfort and hope of a safe life, which you will never have with a freak, I mean…woman like that.” Looking at you once more, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

“That’s right, idiot ! Get lost, because the girl is already mine!” says Natasha raising her voice a little

Well... At least that was what Natasha was convinced of, until she looked to the side and saw that you were no longer there. You had gone to the living room and were sitting on the sofa, with your face buried in your hands. Natasha didn't know what had happened between you and this William. The redhead doesn't know why you two broke up, or if you still had hopes of being together. The only thing she knew, at that very moment, was that if you still liked him, maybe... Maybe she really fucked up the possibility of you guys getting back together at some point.

“Y/n... Shit! A thousand times shit!” You didn't need to look for you to realize that Natasha had already approached you. You would be very stupid if you thought she would just leave. “Y/n, please... Don’t say I fucked up your almost-future relationship?”

Natasha's tone sounded regretful and you were almost believing that she was truly sorry. “Y/n, fuck, talk to me!”

“What do you want me to say, Natasha?” You ask, lifting your head and looking at the redhead. “I want you to answer me, to curse me... To do something, damn it! I can't read thoughts yet, I need a clue here, to know if I messed up or not… To see if I can fix something, even though I think it would be a waste of time for you to have a relationship with that virgin guy…”

“What face?” You held back a laugh as you looked at her, but it didn't have much effect, because a smile spread across your face. “Virgin face... Y/n, he does have a virgin face! Tell the truth, he fucks in a horrible way, doesn’t he?”

What could you do but laugh and agree? A loud laugh escaped your throat before you could contain it and Natasha followed you, as you nodded, shaking your head. “Really, he fucks horribly! Can you believe I never had an orgasm with him?”

You were indignant as you laughed, but soon Natasha stopped laughing and so did you. And only then do you realize what you had just said. "Are you serious?" she asked, frowning. You remain silent.

“Come on, Y/n, don’t act shy now! I've seen you naked, I've been inside you, inside your mouth... And apparently, I've already given you more orgasms than that virgin ever thought about giving you. There’s no need to hide from me.” Okay, she was right.

“Yes, Nat, I’m serious!” You mumble, laying your head on the back of the couch. “And that’s why you broke up with him?”

“No, he cheated on me with his secretary, a super beautiful and interesting blonde. He is a lawyer and has always known a lot of people, but I never thought he would be so low and betray me like this.”

“Wow, Y/n... I’m so sorry.” The redhead said, sincerity showing in her voice. “But I can tell you one thing: he’s a really stupid guy. How could he cheat on you? Damn, if I had a girlfriend like you... I would never have eyes for anyone else.” You look at her suddenly seeing an incredulous expression. “Stop, Natasha. Don’t start, you’re a porn actress…” you say letting out a weak laugh “So what?”

“So what if you could never have a normal relationship. Unless you found a woman who accepted your profession…

"Would you accept?" Your confused expression gave away what you were probably thinking, because the redhead continued.

“Would you accept having a “normal relationship” with me, Y/n, even though you know I’m a porn star?”

“Do you want to have a normal relationship with me?” Your eyes were so wide that your sockets could pop out at any moment. “This is all hypothetically speaking, Y/n…” Natasha replied, shrugging.

“Ah, well... No, Nat, I don't think I would. Hypothetically speaking, If I accepted, it would mean that I would continue to be “cheated” for the rest of my life, since your profession is to fuck several women every day.”

“It’s a profession like any other, Y/n. Hypothetically speaking, you wouldn’t be betrayed, you would just accept the lifestyle I lead.”

“Hypothetically and truly speaking... The answer would still be no, Nat.” She rolled her eyes and smirked when she looked at you again. “All this nonsense aside, Y/n... We can go back to what we were doing before... What do you think?”

"What do you think?"

Why resist? You are a single woman and you deserve to enjoy.

“I think that was the smartest thing to come out of your mouth since the virgin guy left, Nat.”

Natasha smiled, you too and together, you went towards your room, to finish all the madness that had started on your couch.

You enter your room with Natasha following you and you give her a few minutes to look around. There was nothing special, your room had a classic decor, very feminine… Cream walls, a double bed with a baby pink bedspread, your bedside table with some photos. Your closet wasn't too big, its door was next to the bathroom door. In front of your bed was what you liked most: your bookshelf, which was what Natasha was looking at at that moment.

“Well, well… Y/n!” Natasha looked at you with a naughty smile from ear to ear, making you look down at your copy of "Fifty Shades of Grey", which was in the redhead's hand. “So you also succumbed to that book?”

What was wrong with that? You felt like you were caught in the act while you were doing something very shameful. “You don’t have to be like this, Detka.”

“Detka? Why do you always call me that?” You repeat what had just come out of the redhead's mouth and she smiled beautifully. “Any problems with pet names?” You just shake your head a little blushing.

“This Christian Gray guy must have picked up more women than me, and I've been in this business since I was 18 years old.” Natasha shook her head and laughed. “But I confess that, since the release of this book, I must have done more than 30 BDSM-style scenes.”

"Serious?" You ask. "Yes." she turned the book over, taking a quick look at the synopsis. “And you... Do you like that kind of thing? Domination and submission?” The redhead asks, suddenly interested.

The image of Natasha with a whip in her hands made your panties wet so quickly, you thought she was combusting.

“Although it’s not really my style, I confess that I do like it. And you, Y/n? Have you ever done anything like that?” She asked, looking at you intently. “Never…” you mumble. “And are you curious?”

“Well...After this book, I think any woman will be curious. I mean, it's a very different topic, which has almost never been addressed, especially in such an explicit and…”

“Are you curious or not, Y/n?”

Natasha asks in a more authoritative tone, Or was it just your imagination? Whatever the case, your intimacy pulsed with each passing minute. "I have." you murmur, wanting to look away, but feeling unable.

Natasha had that power to bind you to her, something that no one had been able to exercise over you. She put your book back in its place and took a few steps until she was in front of you. She ran her fingertips across your face, letting her thumb caress your lower lip. You wanted to close your eyes, but you didn't. You wanted to see how far she would go.

“You're so beautiful, Y/n and telling me these things... My dick is already so hard, I would do anything to enter you right now, but I won't. Do you know what I want now, Y/n?” You shake your head, swallowing hard. “I want you to take off all your clothes and stand in front of your bed, with your feet on the floor and your hands resting on the mattress. Right?"

“Yes…” She pointed to the bed behind you with her eyebrow and you turned to go to her, but was stopped with a firm pull on your hair, which didn’t even hurt, but it was strong enough to keep you still, with your head tilted back.

"Yes what?" asked the redhead in my ear, with a stern voice. "Yes ma'am."

"Go."

She released you and took a few seconds to make your feet move towards your bed. Half a minute ago, Natasha was just Natasha, the porn star. Now you have a Dominant Natasha inside your room and the idea of obeying her has never been so exciting.

You take off your clothes quickly and get into the position she asked for. You felt vulnerable and at the same time sexy in that position, with your ass and your intimacy exposed to her.

“Open your legs wider.”

Natasha's voice echoed throughout the room, letting you know that she wasn't that close to you. You open your legs wider for her, feeling every part of my body becoming erect, as curiosity approaches your mind. What would she do to you? Where was she at that moment, what was she doing exactly?”

You wanted those answers so much, but your brain forgot each one of them when you felt Natasha's finger running straight down your spine. You wanted to squirm with that lazy and sensual movement, but the position stopped you and the only thing you did was let out a loud sigh, when Natasha's open hand slowly caressed your ass.

“Do you trust me, Y/n? I would never do anything that would hurt her, right? Remembering that everything I do is much more for your pleasure than mine. It's for our pleasure and I would never do anything other than that. You said you're curious and I'm here to make you taste whatever you want, Anything I do and you don’t like it, just say “stop” ok?”

"Yes…"

A strong slap landed right in the middle of your buttocks, making you let out a tearful moan. You would have fallen face down from the bed, if Natasha hadn't held you by the waist and held you close to her body. "Yes what?"

"Yes ma'am!" You respond in a louder tone than you intended, feeling your flesh burn and your intimacy become even more moist.

"Excellent." The redhead responded in a serious tone, showing that she was the one in charge.

You hear Romanoff's footsteps walking away, the sound of shoes falling to the floor, as well as the sound of a zipper being opened.

She was undressing and your excitement reached an even greater level due to the anticipation. You hear more and more footsteps, you think she was walking around your room until she came back to stand next to you, her erect member touching your ass.

“You know, Y/n... You've been a very bad woman since the day I met you.”

“W-What do you mean?”

Another strong, hot slap hit you, this time on your right buttock, making you let out a loud scream. God, that hurt and at the same time it made your intimacy cry out for orgasm. How was it possible?

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak, Y/n!” the redhead said, incisively. “I’ll have to teach you some manners, girl.”

You almost open your mouth to say something, but stop immediately. The slaps excited you and that was a fact, but you also really wanted to know what Natasha had in mind and for that, you needed to stay quiet.

“Continuing, the first thing you did wrong was make me lose control. I never cum inside a woman while I'm acting… I came inside you, because you caught me in your gaze. I think you deserve punishment for that, don’t you, Y/n?” If she's talking, you must deserve it... Another slap!

Very hard on your left buttock, and damn, if you received another slap, you would melt along with the waterfall of excitement that your pussy would release. “Answer, Y/n! Every time I ask you a question, you have a duty to answer me.”

“Yes, I deserve punishment for this,ma'am”

“Yes, you deserve it. And I also deserve punishment for having cast a spell so that my dick wouldn't rise for another woman. Because that's what's happening, Y/n. I haven't had an erection for another woman since the day I fucked you. And that’s not right, is it.”

“It is not, ma'am”

“No really…” Natasha remained silent for a few minutes, running her hand over your hot, burning ass. “Ten slaps, Y/n. I will give you ten slaps because of everything you did to me. Agrees?" "Yes ma'am”

"Perfect. Why are we doing this, Y/n? Why are you bowing down and obeying me?”

“Because I wanted to know what it’s like…” first slap. Hard and fast, right in the middle of your ass.

She caresses you and you moan, rearing up for her, your body asking for more and at the same time, begging for an orgasm. “Keep talking, don’t stop!”

Second slap, on the right side, following the sequence she had started when you messed up something.

“Because I wanted to know what it was like, ma'am.” you moan receiving the third and fourth slap.

Your flesh was burning and the walls of your vagina were so tight, that you were sure that with just one touch on your clit, you would cum.

“And why are you being beaten?” Natasha asked, caressing your ass lightly.

“Why don’t you…” Fifth and sixth, the echo of the spankings filling your entire room. "You? Is that right, Y/n?

“No ma'am.” you whimper feeling your legs wobble. Your body was begging for an orgasm, for a rest, but you didn't want to stop. “Start again, why are you catching Y/n?”

“Because you can’t stay hard for any other woman, unless…” seventh and eighth, and more excitement came out of your intimacy.

She slapped you again on the buttocks and paused. You feel two kisses on your burning flesh and then came the coup de grace. The tenth and final slap, which your hot ass was waiting for, was given lower down. It hit your intimacy straight.

Your clitoris vibrated, you felt a sharp scream coming out of your throat, while your legs turned to jelly and your lower belly shook in a powerful orgasm. Jets came out of you, as you had what many called female ejaculation.

It was strong, and it seemed like it would never end. You came and screamed, while your trembling body was welcomed into Natasha's arms. Only then do you realize that you are sitting on the floor, when all the daze was gone, leaving only a tremor in your body with every movement you or Natasha made.

“Nat…” you groan, looking for something to say before you become too embarrassed to even look at her.

“Y/n, that was... Amazing! Have you ever cum like this?” She looked at you, smiling. You shake your head, placing your face on the redhead's bare chest. You hear her laugh of joy, while a smile spreads across your face.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. As far as it depends on me, I will give you lots and lots of ejaculations.” The redhead's fingers lightly went down your breasts, starting to lightly circle your nipple. “Now I really want to fuck you.”

You feel your intimacy fluctuate, waking up the excitement that fell asleep after that intense orgasm. You bite your lip and get out of Natasha's legs, sitting on her hips and taking her member in your hand. She smiled and leaned back at the foot of your bed, while squeezing your nipple in her fingers.

“Put me inside you, Detka. Slowly, because you are still sensitive.” Natasha murmured, careful, but with eyes full of malice.

You nod and stand up a little, feeling your burning ass protest. You make a face and the older girl laughed, pulling your head to give you a breathtaking kiss. You feel her tongue wander around every corner of your mouth, as you slowly sit on her member, feeling her open space inside you with her wide head.

“Fuck, Y/n... You’re so fucking tight!” she roared against your lips, holding your hips so you sat up slowly. “And you’re fucking big!” you moan, feeling her stretch you inside, touching all your little nerves. “I like that word coming out of your mouth.” She bit your lower lip. “Roll on me, Y/n, come on.”

You obey, rolling your hips slowly, feeling her enter and enter until your pelvises meet. You moan together as you start to move, increasing the rhythm of your hips with the redhead's help. Her dick touched every corner, occupied all the places you didn't even know existed.

When just moving wasn't enough, Natasha began to push your hips up and down, making you straddle her lap. Her dick was going so deep that you could feel your lower abdomen wobble, looking for a new orgasm. “That's right, Y/n... I know that pussy is ready to cum on my dick. Cum for me, Come on.”

The redhead's name escaped your lips and your body, obeying her command once again, trembled, as you came for her. Your intimacy was still pressing her, when she got up with you on her lap and came out of you, placing you on the mattress.

“Kneel down and place your hands on the mattress, Y/n…” she murmured.

You stay in the indicated position. Pulling you by the waist, Natasha placed her penis at your entrance and slowly penetrated you, widening you again, until her pelvis hit your sensitive ass. “If it’s too much for you, let me know and I’ll change positions.”

You nod, feeling her move slowly, pulling your excitement back. You squeeze her lightly inside and you hear a moan of pleasure coming out of her, and one of surprise came from inside you, when I felt her thumb surround your anus.

“Your ass is so beautiful, Y/n. One day, I'll be inside it. I promise to you." Natasha murmured, still moving slowly inside you. “Let me know if this is too much for you too.”

You were about to ask what could be too much for you, when you felt her wet thumb, probably from her saliva, force its way into your anus and lightly penetrate you.

A moan of satisfaction escaped your lips when she synchronized the movement of her finger with the movement of her penis inside you, increasing and increasing more and more.

Her dick hit you full on with force and precision, as did Natasha's finger in your ass and it was all too much for you. You feel your intimacy tighten again and Natasha increased her movements even more, showing that she was also ready to cum. “What a greedy cunt, Y/n! Come on, I’m dying to fill her with my cum”

Hearing all that made your excitement increase to such an alarming level that the last thing you thought about before cumming was whether you would be able to be a normal person after that night.

Romanoff screamed and so did you, as you came together, her cum entering you more and more, while your body suffered from the spasms that the orgasm was causing.

When you both calmed down, Natasha gently pulled out of you and threw herself on the bed next to you, breathing as fast as you.

“Tell me you’re not going back with him” Natasha suddenly looks at you seriously. "What?"

“Tell me you’re not going back with him and I’ll know I have a chance, I can make you happier than him Y/n. I'm completely fascinated by you.” You just smile feeling numb from all this information.

“I’m not going back with him, Nat, because I’m fascinated by you too.”

A bright and satisfied smile spread across her lips, reflecting your expression, before she approached you and sealed all that madness with a sweet kiss, making you think that… Maybe signing that contract wasn't all bad.

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: This is part 2 to my Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the love on the first one. ❤ no content warning and I'm trying to keep this gender neutral. Enjoy!!!)

You never expected your angry rant to actually change Simon's behavior. But it has, based on Mama Riley's weekly updates. He's stopping by more, staying longer. He's actually telling her things, mainly about his coworkers, but she's just happy he's finally opening up to her.

While you believe her, you're not seeing the change yourself. Fridays are when you have dinner with Mama Riley, and now apparently Simon too. He just… stares at you, a permanent frown on his face. As if you're the one intruding.

Part of you is glad he doesn't talk much. The few sentences he does speak, the low timber of his voice makes your heart race. Behind the scars and unwelcoming attitude, Simon Riley is a handsome man. But your loyalty lies with his mom. He needs to be a better son, and some silly crush isn't going to change your mind that easily.

Ironically, it's said loyalty that makes Simon fall for you so fast. His loyalty is rock solid, a promise held steadfast, an ache he feels in his chest every morning. There's no one Simon cares more about than his mom, and to see someone else care so deeply and fiercely about her makes you so insanely attractive to him. On top of that, your concern for Mama Riley made you willing to say something to him, and Simon knows he's off-putting and scary.

What I'm getting at is that this man is so down bad, it's not even funny. He'd literally take you to the court house and marry you immediately, if you were willing. But you're not, and he's kind of clueless on how to convince you to give him a chance. He'd rather catch a live grenade bare handed than ask his mom.

His mom who clocked the crush immediately, and is trying to help him without helping him. Even if their relationship is strained (much better now thanks to you!), she knows her son, and she knows he has feelings for you. And while she's not trying to meddle, she is trying to create opportunities for y'all to interact and get to know each other.

Opportunities that Simon keeps fumbling because he clams up so bad around you. He's never been good around people in general, and his crush on you just makes it twice as bad. Plus, he's aware that you hate him, and that's not doing him any favors either.

Mama Riley gives him time to make an attempt, only to watch him struggle and usually fail. But the attempts he's making with small talk, bad jokes, bringing you small knick knacks from deployment; it seems to be working. You're both opening up to each other, growing a friendship.

But as the months pass, nothing grows beyond a friendship. You don't want to ruin things between yourself and Mama Riley. Plus, you're not entirely sure where Simon's feelings lie. He's just as weird and off-putting as he was in the beginning, just now he tells you bad jokes and calls you ‘love’.

And, while Mama Riley promised herself that she wouldn't meddle - Simon's a grown man after all, he should be able to handle this - it's almost painful for her to watch the way you and Simon dance around each other. Nobody here is getting any younger, and after almost a year of watching you two, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Simon's two months into deployment, when Mama Riley invites you over for routine Friday dinner. You're barely one glass of wine in, when she drops the bombshell on you.

“You know, Simon's in love with you.”

[yb-cringe]

i think whats always made me the most emotional about qsmp characters and players alike leaving is that it feels so much more. personal. a bit more gutting when it comes to the way qsmp functions.

the reason this server was made in the first place was to make connections between players that CANT happen anywhere else. or rather, are very difficult to maintain.

it's hard to consistently stay in contact with people who don't speak the same language as you. qsmp made a point to force those people to interact and everything else was just.. trying to soften the harder edges of communicating that don't happen elsewhere.

and its simultaneously beautiful and horribly horribly painful. because the world outside of qsmp isn't very accommodating. and often, as these are content creators with Lives, they don't have time to really maintain every friendship they ever make.

It's why maxo and jaiden and richas and pomme and dapper etc-- its why every death or absence from the server is so gutting. because you know when they leave, that this just /cant/ happen again.

i'm not saying this to be. doomposty. i know that's kinda what it sounds like. i think pepito said it great already; that new memories can be made and we can love the old ones.

i think what im getting at is that clawing back to a time that's passed won't make us happy, it won't take us back there. you gotta just keep moving forward. qsmp is changing a lot. it wont ever be like it was last year. that doesn't mean it can't be good later.

we're going to lose creators and characters and things that remind us VERY heavily of the times where we had friends that we drifted from or lost because of one thing or another.

but you gotta remember there will be more people who you will love too. new people, who won't fill that space but occupy something new because fun fact you don't ever run out of space for that sort of thing.

be sad theyre gone be happy they're doing well remember the memories fondly but keep moving. unfortunately a lot of qsmp has ended up being about letting things go.

its like the. 'its going to be okay. but its going to be different.' and. skdfjds idk i hope thats a hopeful enough note to make things better.

[jacksonlywife]

Falling Tears

(BSD MEN REACT TO THEIR SPOUSE CRYING)

(GN!Reader)

Dazai Osamu:

We all know Dazai is one to shrug off people's problems as if it were a measly little thing that was nothing to fuss over. The casual “You’ll be fine~!” But we all also know that Dazai cares for you. He loves you. If you were to sob in front of him it’d send him into an overdrive of broken worry.

You were tired. Sick and tired. It felt as if everyone was shrugging you off of your problems and you ran to the agency bathroom because your throat closed up and felt water appearing in your eyes. 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

You knew those footsteps. It was your boyfriend. Dazai. You immediately began trying to wipe the tears, imagining that if Dazai were to see he’d try to stifle his laughter because of all those times he waved off your problems and vents. Sadly the tears couldn’t stop and now you were a flushed mess looking down to avoid his gaze. It was piercing.

“Darling what's this? Why’re you trying to hide your pretty face from meee~?” He cooed tilting your head up, having a playful smile but it broke as he noticed your tears. 

“Oh..what happened.?” 

“No one listens or takes me seriously. Not even you! I’m tired. Go away.” You try to shrug him off but he grasps your hands pulling you onto his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He frowned, his face softening. “I’m the asshole for ignoring. I should've known.” Worry was evident on his handsome face and you flushed at his words. You really needed to hear that. As Dazai apologized he peppered your face with kisses.

“Next time slap me if I brush off your problems. I might like it if you slap me though.” He winked which you scoffed at, holding back a chuckle.

Chuuya Nakahara:

Chuuya, despite being someone who definitely needs anger management classes will get immensely suspicious if you were to get the tiniest bit of a frown on your face. “Are you alright?” He’d constantly ask and once you break down his heart shatters.

You collapsed onto your bed spasming a bit from trying to hold back your tears. You knew you could tell Chuuya your love about your problems. Though there was a thing inside of you that said that he would be forcing himself to comfort you so you kept your mouth shut silently sobbing into a pillow curled up.

You flinched as the door knob cranked open revealing your boyfriend with wide eyes as he saw you so disheveled.

“What's wrong doll?” He murmured going to you and sitting beside you on the bed taking his gloved fingers to stroke your back delicately.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t wanna bother.” You mumble back looking back down at the pillow you sobbed into.

“Tell me who did it.” Chuuyas glare becomes more pronounced as seconds pass and you almost chuckle at his overprotectiveness.

“I’m just tired.” You say averting your gaze.

“I can be your stress relief.” He stared and flushed at his own words, scowling. “Not like that! Like..my arms are free for you.”

You laughed and dug yourself deep into his chest nuzzling as Chuuya put his chin on your head, kissing it gently.

Ranpo Edogawa:

This piece of shit of an egotistical man will KNOW your sad but won’t do anything about it. He’ll brush it off like Dazai in a more childish way. “I have better things to do!” He’d say casually sucking on his lollipop. But those once closed eyes would widen at the sight of your tears coming on display.

Everything and everyone was so mean. Why can’t they just understand you're tired?! You’ve tried. So. Many. Times. To talk to your boyfriend about your problems but he’d change the topic with what he was busy with.

Thinking no one was here you buried yourself into your desk of the agency, silent tears slipping out your eyes as you took a shaky breath, hands trembling beneath the desk. You sniffled but then heard a drop of some kind of food. Ice cream. Splat on the ground as you lift your head to see your boyfriend staring at you wide eyed, his glasses barely holding on.

“What?” You say annoyed wiping your tears so you don’t embarrass yourself further.

“You're crying.” He said as if it weren't the most obvious thing in the world.

“No shit.” You rubbed your eyes frantically realizing the tears wouldn’t stop which turned into a sniffle fest and you averted your body from him in a fluster.

Footsteps came closer and you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind and a face nuzzle into your neck.

“Did I do it.?” Ranpo mumbled a childish tone evident in his voice.

“Your part of it.” You said between tears and then your boyfriend kissed the back of your neck sending shivers down you. You try to glare but he uses the puppy dog look to manipulate you. Damn it.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled averting his gaze.

You didn’t fully accept his apology but you did accept the kisses he kept giving you during this encounter making you flush.

(FIRST POST IN LIKE MONTHSOMG anyway)

[coolemmasulivan2]

It's Always You

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

Word count: 6013

Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.

It's you, it's always you Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart

Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.

Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.

Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.

Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.

He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.

"I have something I need to tell you." He said.

It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.

Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?

"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"

Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."

"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."

He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."

You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.

"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"

It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."

He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.

You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.

The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.

Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.

You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"

He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."

A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"

"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."

"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."

A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."

Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.

A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"

Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.

He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.

"Or what?" Lando challenged.

Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."

Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.

"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.

"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.

When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"

"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"

Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"

"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."

Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"

The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.

Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.

A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.

Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.

Lando smile, looking at your text.

Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.

Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message. 

Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.

A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.

Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.

"Hi!"

"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.

"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.

"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.

"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"

He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.

The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes. 

You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.

Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.

"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.

A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"

Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.

"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.

"So wake him up!"

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.

Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.

Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.

You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.

Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.

An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.

You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious. 

You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.

Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.

Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.

He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear.  The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.

Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.

"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.

"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."

You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.

He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"

"Go!" You muttered.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."

He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.

"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."

Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.

With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.

The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.

"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"

He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."

You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"

"Everybody knows." He whispered back.

As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.

He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.

You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.

"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."

Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.

He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.

"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.

"Lando--" You began.

"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.

He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away. 

But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.

Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."

When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.

"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.

"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."

"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."

Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."

He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.

You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.

"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."

Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.

"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."

The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"

A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.

Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"

You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."

Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.

He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted. 

"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.

"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.

Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.

"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.

Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.

You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.

Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.

He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."

You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."

"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"

"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"

"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."

"Why doe--"

"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.

You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."

As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you. 

"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.

 "Whoa, slow down there."

"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.

You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.

"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"

Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.

He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."

You nodded. "Okay!" 

"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.

"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."

He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.

"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.

"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."

A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"

He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."

The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.

In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.

For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.

"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"

You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.

"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."

"With you?" She asked him, excited.

Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.

"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"

He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.

Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.

He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.

"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."

You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.

Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out. 

As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down. 

Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.

"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"

"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."

Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."

He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.

"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?

"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.

Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.

Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?

The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.

"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"

He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.

"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.

Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.

"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."

Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.

"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.

"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.

[beloved-nyx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 “𝐁” 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 !

ᝰ.ᐟ Why does it feel like someone’s following your every move?

જ⁀➴ STARRING: 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 (𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

જ⁀➴ CONTENT: stalking, suggestive, reader is in college, reader is insecure, nothing to bad ??, not proofread (we die like kings), soft yandere (?), nothing graphic, mentions of jealousy and clinginess

જ⁀➴ FORMAT: 1.3k words, full fic

જ⁀➴ AUTHORS NOTE: This is my third time writing yandere ahhh! Anyway, it's been so long since I wrote something!! Um enjoy <33 also damn...reader really going through it.

“There,” You mutter under your breath. “Finished.”

You balance precariously on a wobbly stool, hands parting from a sleek, black camera. A security camera, to be precise. 

You would have never thought of putting a camera in your apartment, not because you were naively dumb, but because you had thought you lived in the safer part of the city. Friendly neighbors always alerted you when suspicious people even lingered next to your doorstep, but also because you were broke. Broke, broke, broke. 

Your rent was taking up more of your money than your groceries were. It had taken weeks of splurging on food to even be able to afford a security camera, much to your disdain. You were living on leftovers, and you were getting sick of week-old Chinese takeout. 

Stepping off the stool, you admire your handiwork, cringing at how gaudy it looked in your minimalistic (or in much harsher words, bare) apartment room. 

Your phone dings softly, and as you pick it up, you grin at the name displayed on your notifications. Caelan. 

Caelan is your crush. Your cheeks seem to grow hotter at even admitting it in your thoughts. You felt like some highschool kid, even using the word “crush.” But Caelan did that to you, you guess. Make you feel childish and absolutely hopeless, and sometimes you wish he knew that. But then again, if he did, you would probably self-destruct on the spot. You were fine with admiring Caelan from afar. 

Heard what happened U ok?

Ahh. That. 

The very reason you put that gaudy camera in your apartment in your first place. 

It had been a month ago, when you first saw the signs of someone breaking into your house. You were doing laundry, a perfectly normal thing to do on a Friday night while your friends were getting drunk and partying at a local club. Some of your underwear was missing, but you had chalked it up to your own clumsiness.

But then you saw the note, and everything changed. Written sloppily, penmanship atrocious. You had thought that the person was just bad at writing-but in hindsight, he must have used his less dominant hand to write it. Biting your cheek, you read it, and you wished you hadn’t. 

It was the most perverse, disgusting thing you had ever read. That night, you couldn’t even sleep, scared that the unknown intruder-stalker would come.

The next day, the stalker sent you pictures of you doing the most mundane things. Sleeping, eating, studying, doing laundry, and even changing.

You immediately called the police on the next day, when a bouquet of roses showed up on your doorstep. The police had said, “We’ll look into it.” 

They never did. 

It led you to ask for help from a friend, and you instantly regretted it. Because the next day, the whole campus learned of your supposed stalker. And even though their sympathetic, “You okay?” made you feel a little bit more safer, a little more secure in your tiny world, it still made you embarrassed, scared too. 

You type in a quick, I'm fine! And then wonder if you should put an emoji after that. After spending an embarrassingly long minute of deciding if you should, you just send it with no emoji. 

That’s good.  If you need anything just call me.

…

A few days pass by, and still no stalker appears on the camera footage. At first, you’re elated. But then another few days pass, and you feel silly. Maybe there was no stalker, maybe you were being overdramatic-but even then, those pictures? The note? You shiver. You hear a knock on the door, and turn to the noise, a small hum escaping your lips.

Must be the delivery man. You had ordered some new textbooks for college. You walk towards the door, and twist the knob. 

Caelan smiles, pale fingers holding a bouquet of roses. He wears a black turtleneck, gray pants and a black dress coat. You, on the other hand, were wearing your pajamas. 

If you could melt in a puddle, you would have. You wished you were buried in a pit. You wanted to be flung into space. Your cheeks were burning hot. You must look like a mess. Is it too late to be flung into space? 

“C-Caelan. What brings you…uh, here?” You cringe at your words. 

“For you, of course.” He laughs, taking a rose from the bouquet and putting it behind your ear. “I just wanted to check up on you. I hope I wasn’t intruding on anything, like your beauty sleep,” He muses, eyes wandering towards your pajamas. 

You never wanted to turn into a puddle so badly. 

“Hah-no, I just woke up!” You lie, ignoring the way he cocks his head to the side skeptically. Ignoring the fact that it's three p.m. 

“You should’ve called…I would’ve,” You gesture towards your clothes, “y’know, prepared.” 

“Oh shit!” His eyebrows furrow, a hand yanking at a loose black strand of hair that escaped his braid. “I’m sorry, I was just so worried–”

“No, no it’s fine!” You hate the way you sound-so, so desperate. “Um, do you want to come inside? I’ll go change and then we can talk.” 

You lead him inside, ignoring the fact of how oddly happy he is to be inside your home. 

…

After Caelan and you became official, he started to change. Slowly, like how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. 

He became more clingy, and at first you thought it cute. You loved the way he doted on you, liked how he curled up into you in the mornings when he stayed at your home (more often than not) and begged you to stay in bed for just a few minutes. 

But he also became more jealous. Whenever you were next to someone, he always hovered close by, a suffocating presence that almost drowned you. Always insisted on going wherever you went. 

You sit on the couch, nestled closely next to Caelan. He hums softly, hands nestled under your shirt as you watch some shitty rom-com. A masterpiece. You called it. Caelan had raised a brow at that, but didn’t say anything except for a snort. You had elbowed him in the stomach after he jokingly (?) insulted one of your favorite moments. 

“‘m gonna get some water,” he mumbles, hands retracting from your body and making you feel cold. You whine at the sudden coldness, complaining about how you might die of hypothermia if he doesn’t come back soon. He scoffs at that, planting a kiss on your temple as he walks into the kitchen. 

And leaves his phone. 

You pick it up, grinning. Your intent was clear. Take a silly photo of yourself and make it his wallpaper. A perfect, opportune moment. 

You open the camera app, successfully taking a horridly candid shot of yourself, before curiosity takes a hold of you. You open the photo app, scrolling through his photos. Most of it was just pictures of landscapes, before you stop. 

A picture of you sleeping, drool leaking from your mouth. 

You stop, before groaning. Did you really look like that when you slept? You scrolled some more, before stopping again. Blood running cold. 

Was that a picture of you changing?

You frantically scroll through more photos, and with horror realize that most resemble the photos that your stalker took. You would never forget how disgusting you felt, at how you felt like your privacy had been breached. 

You choke down a scream, eyes wide and hands shaking. 

And then you feel something-a hand, on your shoulder. Tight enough to bruise, and tight enough to secure you in place. 

“Oh.” A single word escapes Caelan’s lips, and you turn. You can see your own, frantic expression in his black eyes. Black eyes that you thought were beautiful. 

“So you saw them, hmm.” It wasn’t stated as a question. No, it was a statement. A fact, indisputable. The most horrible part was that he wasn’t even trying to deny them. 

“Well, isn’t this cute?”

©beloved-nyx. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[macfrog]

backspin | bbf!frankie

surprise! we're taking a quick detour to fuck around with our brother's best friend again. what else is new.

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: you try to get even with frankie. it works. warnings: reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, enemies to lovers, mention of throwing up, alcohol consumption, cursing, oral, more dickhead frankie and more sassy reader word count: 6.3k

part one: rack 'em | main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💙

So, you fucked around with Frankie.

It’s no big deal, right? It was just a one-time thing. There was tension, you guys relieved it. Scratched an itch. Served a purpose. You still fucking hate the guy, and he still fucking hates you.

Nothing’s changed.

Right?

Mal sprays wine all over the kitchen table when you tell her. Gargles a, Sorry – fuck – sorry, through what little of the alcohol is left in her mouth.

You wipe your face clean in the crook of your elbow. It’s in your fucking eyelashes. You blink the room back into focus, and – “Jesus, Mal!”

Dark droplets teeter around the edge of the table, threatening to plunge straight down onto your mom’s chair cushions – thus damning you to her very own personal hell for all eternity. You can feel the flames licking at your feet already.

Your best friend rips a sheet of paper towel and drags it over the wood – white bleeding violet at the first swipe. “Why’d you tell me as I was taking a sip?”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking hose me down,” you hiss, taking the soaked crumple from her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d be a little surprised that you and Catfish Morales hooked up? Are you fucking ser–? Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

You glare at her from the sink, upper lip curled.

Mallory Bennett has been privy to your every thought since you were six years old. Hand in hand, arms swinging as you marched into first grade together.

Most days, you barely have to open your mouth – one flinching expression, one flash of eye contact, and she can parrot your own thoughts back to you.

Francisco Morales going down on you two nights ago is the first thing you’ve ever had to confess to her. It’s the first thing she never saw coming.

“Shut up,” you breathe, eventually thawing and sweeping over to your chair. The table sticks to your arms when you sit back down.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, alright? A lot of tension. I mean, you gotta fuckin’ feel it. You two hate each other’s guts! And you’re both single, and you’re only here for two weeks. And – he’s Santi’s best friend. It’s just…it’s the perfect storm.”

Another exasperated sigh passes your lips. You settle back, eyes closed, and lift your palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“You wouldn’t’ve told me if you didn’t wanna talk about it. Was he good?”

“Mal.”

“Was he?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.” Her face screws up; the gold hoops wobble from her ears. “Like hell you don’t remember. Tell me.”

Your eyes slip from her over to Ange. The old pup pushes herself to her feet with a huff, her joints stiff and bones frail. She moseys over to your side. You scratch the back of the dog’s neck, shrugging to Mal.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way to a free round of drinks, I’d remember enough to share.”

“Fuck you,” she snorts, voice rounded by her wine glass. “Maybe that just means you gotta do it again – sober.”

You scoff.

Angie looks up at you – watery eyes blinking, tail slowly fanning.

Mal’s already recounting the time Frankie snitched on the two of you for raiding your mom’s makeup bag. She waves her hands in the air, eyes bulging.

Do it again. The thought actually makes you want to laugh.

You and Frankie – you and Catfish, hooking up again. As if the first time wasn’t a total mishap, the biggest mistake in judgement you think you’ve ever made.

He drove you home, he made you come, he left.

One nil, right? You have one up on him. You got yours, and he probably went home and jerked off to the thought of it. Alone in his room, tongue licking at the corners of his mouth where he could still taste your release.

You won.

You won, against Frankie Morales.

“…and then fuckin’ – Pope tried to help us tidy it up, remember? He was scrubbing the hell outta the lipstick on the mirror. But that asshole – Frankie,” she seethes, “he went downstairs as soon as your mom came home. As soon as she…And he fucking ratted!”

She growls, balls her fists. Screws her eyes tight shut like the enraged eight-year-old she was back then. She still has the same little crease between her brows. “What the hell got into you that night? We hate him, junior!”

Ange slumps to the floor with a sigh.

“Me too, girl,” you mutter to her, twirling the base of your glass. You look back up at the crazed woman opposite. “I don’t know,” you insist. “I was drunk, we were on our own…It just happened, alright?”

Her shoulders roll in a shrug. She lifts her glass to clink the neck of the bottle against the rim, purple wine spilling in a swirl. “Maybe it’s the start of something.”

You scoff. “Mal. Come on.”

“I’m serious. Perfect storm.”

“Nope. No storm. Stop that.”

She jabs a tipsy finger in your direction. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you messed around with your arch fucking menesis– arch fucking…with – with Frankie, and you just – still feel nothing for him?”

“No,” you admit, “I feel plenty for him. I hate his fucking guts. I used to wish every birthday that he’d disappear. One time in church, when Father Joseph told everybody to bow their heads ‘n pray, I actually asked God to kill him for me.”

“Not Father Joseph!” Mal shrieks, grinning. “He was so fucking hot, by the way, for a dude with no hair. When the sunlight caught that cueball just right…that was a real fucking miracle. Goddamn.”

You bat her snicker away. “Me and Frankie used to brawl so bad that our moms had to separate us,” you continue. “I had to sit in the front seat if we drove anywhere – and that still didn’t stop him! He’d reach around the headrest and flick my fucking ear.”

“You gave as good as you got, though. I’m surprised he can even still get hard, the number of times your foot…” She swings her leg and kicks your thigh softly. “He was an ass, I know.”

“He was an ass then, he’s still an ass now. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay,” Mal concedes. Her dark, glossy hair surfs around the lip of her wine glass when she leans in. “But you wouldn’t’ve told me unless it was still on your mind. ‘s all I’m saying.”

You throw yourself back with a quick, angry shake of your head. Your tongue flicks over your top lip.

“All I’m saying,” she repeats, holding her hands up.

But I won, you think – in a petulant little whine. Like you could shake your fists and stamp your feet at the same time. You got one up on him. He – he made you…

He made you come. He saw you. Felt you. Tasted you.

He knows what you sound like, whimpering his fucking name. Drunk on him, begging him not to stop. And now, the image of him fisting his cock over the memory of it feels less like a victory, and more like –

Another fucking loss.

You have no idea what he looks like, coming undone. No clue what his fragmented moans sound like as they tear from the bottom of his throat and rain down over you. You don’t know the weight of him in your hands, the wet slip of his tip as he leaks over your tongue.

Mal’s onto something new. Taken by a Facebook post from some girl you went to high school with. Biggest head I ever saw on a fucking baby, she mutters, wincing and then sprinkling a handful of salted peanuts on her tongue.

Frankie’s cocky smirk clouds over the sight of her at the opposite end of your kitchen table.

Francisco fucking Morales. The asshole wins again.

All at once, you hear his rotten little jeers in your ear – curbed painfully by his middle finger searing across your lobe. You feel his heavy palm on your skull, fingers scrunching roughly into your scalp.

A temper boils between your ears, heavy over your head. It feels juvenile, as if it’s armed with a Barbie in one fist and a juice box in the other. Sunken and wallowing in shame and rage, red-hot waves which wash over you as Mal cackles at some video on her phone.

You feel Frankie’s hands around your legs; the flicks of his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. The swarm of butterflies deep in your belly as you watched his figure swagger back across the street to his truck.

Loss after loss after loss. Each one wearing a satisfied smirk and a Standard Oil baseball cap.

Each one staining deeper than red wine in varnished oak.

You grit your teeth.

Frankie –

fucking –

Morales.

Santi floats the idea of a barbecue. Because of course he fucking does.

He says his place is too small, too many neighbors in earshot – and as long as Ms. Teller takes both hearing aids out, she won’t even know it’s happening.

“Just the guys ‘n us,” he chirps. “You, me, Will, Benny…Fran-kie…?”

You gag down the line. Body instinct whenever his name is mentioned, worsened by the latest developments in your relations. Ange glances up from her spot beneath the oak tree – her milky fur stark against the velvet green grass.

Santi chokes on a laugh. “Mal, too, if that helps with the Catfish thing.”

You lean the phone on your collarbone, sitting forward to apply a second coat of polish to your toes. The red gloss shines in the early morning light. “He is not welcome in my house.”

“First off: not your house. Second –”

“My house for the next eleven days.”

He says your name flatly. It sounds like a door being slammed. It shuts you up as though you’re nine again. “…Second: he won’t be in the house. He’ll be in the backyard.”

“You owe me,” you protest. “For ditching me the other night. I’m cashing in, Santiago. You want a cookout? No Frankie.”

Your brother sighs. “And how am I supposed to explain that to him, hermana?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Santi mutters something incoherent, though you know from the razor-sharp tone of voice that it’s no compliment. Still – he’s a man of his word.

Eventually he agrees: no Frankie at the barbecue.

The store is chilly, plucking goosebumps along your arms.

You round the aisles, scanning your list. You’ve been battling with a janky front wheel which has squealed and veered off-course at every fucking turn. It almost mowed over an elderly woman in the meat aisle.

You’ve cleared most of what Santi told you to get. Drinks, ice, buns, meat, corn on the cob. He wanted to use Mom’s dinner plates – but that, you countered, runs the risk of them being scraped, chipped, or worst of all, smashed.

That’s not a risk you’re willing to take. So you’ve piled in some paper plates and plastic cutlery, too – just to be on the safe side.

The cashier cuts a familiar figure at the checkout: her navy apron and full-cheek grin. She’s a staple sight from your childhood – a pair of dimples and sweet giggle trailing after you as you’d follow your mom’s skirt back out to the parking lot.

Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands when she notices you approaching. “Well, would you look who it is?” she sings.

“Hey, Pol,” you say, fanning yourself with your scrawled shopping list. “How you doing?”

The belt jolts your supplies closer to her bejeweled fingers.

“Same as always, honey. Rockin’ and rollin’. What brings you back to town?”

“Housesitting, dog-sitting…Santi-sitting. Mom and Dad are on a cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. “She told me last week. Caribbean, right?”

You nod, sucking a deep, unenthused breath in.

Pol hums, smiling to herself as she clicks the barcode for your hotdogs into her computer. She begins telling you what her granddaughter thinks of second grade – her two times table and the tadpoles they’re keeping in class.

Your eyes sweep around the store as she chats. Everything looks the way it always did, a time capsule from the nineties. Speckled floor and fluorescent lights; placards hanging overhead which sway each time the great glass doors pull open.

Baskets of fruit and veg lined alongside a lawn set on offer. Beside that, heaps of flowers and stacked planters. Beside those, a discarded shopping cart. And beside that –

Frankie fucking Morales.

Well – the silhouette of him. It’s pretty bright outside. But you’d recognize the outline of that dumb baseball cap anywhere. He’s talking to one of the assistants.

You hand Pol the cash Santiago gave you, and she trades it for a receipt. Dumping your bags back into your cart, you nod to her in thanks and stalk off towards the sliding doors.

Frankie tosses and twirls a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The assistant is telling him about some big college football game.

Your grip tightens on the janky-wheeled cart. You feel your skin begin to heat; prickling all over your arms, flushing down between your shoulder blades. Gathering somewhere south of there.

But you walk by him with purpose, choosing to ignore that warm feeling. Choosing to ignore…him.

He doesn’t turn. Thankfully.

The doors grant you exit and you give your cart one good shove across the threshold, back out into blinding daylight and sticky heat.

“Alright, man,” Frankie’s voice calls from behind. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

You nail your eye on the car. It’s, like, fifteen paces. You can make it fifteen steps without having to deal with him, right? If you take longer strides, it’s probably more like ten.

Ten steps, and then you’re in the sanctuary of your car. You don’t have to see, speak to, or deal with him.

So why are you slowing down?

You’re slowing down. You are. You’re borderline fucking loitering. Quietly hoping he’ll notice, catch up, maybe talk to –

You click the unlock button. The car beeps in response.

Five steps out. The front wheel is rattling. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

Four.

Three.

The wheel spins, flitting like a confused compass needle, and stops dead in the opposite direction. The cart hurtles out of your grip for less than a second before you recover it and haul it close to your car, cursing under your breath.

But a force – stronger, steadier – reaches around your body and takes hold of the thing. It guides it back to course. A force which, when it speaks, sounds a shit ton like –

“Woah, lil Santi,” Frankie mutters, and your chest leaps.

You freeze in your tracks. His weight is still around your back. He’s right fucking there, when you turn to look.

The brim of his cap bumps against your head. He steps back with a smirk on his face. He’s so fucking smug, you could slap him. “You tryna cause a goddamn accident with that thing?”

You pull a disingenuous smile. “Hey, Fish. Ever tried minding your own business?”

He feigns a wounded sound and clutches his chest. “Ouch. I’m just looking out for ya.”

“Feels more like you’re pestering me.” You pull on the door handle and slot the first bag along the backseat.

Frankie lifts his chin, peering in at the contents. The star-spangled plated, the dripping bags of ice. “Having a party?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You yank the bag from his sight, spinning to push it alongside the others. “Nope.”

He crosses his arms. “Sure looks like you’re having one.”

“Well, I’m not.” You slam the door and turn back to him, staring blankly.

“Forgot,” he sniffs, “you need friends to have a party.”

“Hilarious. Those shit jokes how you make all your friends?”

He nods, impressed. Pouts his lips like an annoying little fish. Suits his stupid fucking nickname. “Then why’d Benny call ‘n ask if I’ll be at Pope’s parents’ tonight?”

Shit. Fucking – Benny.

You sigh, eyes rolling closed. Your fingers massage your temples. “It’s not…it’s…”

“Cookout, right? Yeah. That stings, baby. No call, no text. You owe me, remember?”

“I owe you jack sh–”

“Two drinks,” Frankie clips, holding a finger up to shush you. “Three, if you count saving your car from one hell of a scratch.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and then give voice to, “It’s a small gathering of friends, and – now you, apparently.”

He sways forward, bumping the cart into your hip. “You need me to bring anything?”

You heave it straight back at him, hopefully hard enough to bruise. “Tranquilizer gun, if you’ve got one.”

“Can get something even stronger, if it’s a party you’re after.”

Your eyes thin. “Wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite for much longer if she found out you were doing coke in her backyard.”

Frankie smiles. That trademark Catfish grin. “I’ve done worse in her kitchen, baby.”

He’s so goddamn cocky. So full of it, it makes you want to scream. He studies you, eyes shadowed by his cap. His hair flicks out around his ears, dark curls doused in golden sunlight.

When your eyes trace the shape of his jaw, the wiry hair above his top lip – the faint flicker of a memory glows across your skin.

The weight of his hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. The bristling feeling ghosting the inside of your thighs. Your desperate wet, his tongue covering ground across your body like claiming territory.

Every shade of wrong. Ignoring every atom in your body – betraying every version of yourself for ten minutes of euphoria. He brought every numb nerve under your skin to attention, the second he knelt between your knees.

But he’s looking at you now, the same way he did the other night. It’s boyish and dangerous. A naked match just waiting to fall.

Maybe you’re waiting for an excuse to drop it.

Frankie gives his cap a quick tug, and makes off for his truck.

“See you at seven, Garcia.”

Daylight melts into dusk and with it, goes the sharp sting of summer. A pale blue rolls across the horizon, covering the yard in a hazy sort of chill. A relieving breeze, like satin over newly burned skin.

You’re still fucking sweating.

“Are you going to help me, or you just gonna lie there and text your girlfriend?” you call across the yard.

The dark figure spilling over the edge of the hammock grunts in response.

“Santi.”

Your brother groans, rolling free from the marigold fabric. He strides across the lawn, swinging an arm down to ruffle Ange’s ears. “Not a girlfriend,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “She’s…she’s more of a…”

You lift your hand. “Not something I need to know.”

He laughs and looks at the spread on the table. He lifts the corner of a tricolor napkin, straightens a plastic fork. The foil over the hamburger buns crinkles. “We did a good job. Looks great.”

“We?” You scoff, slapping his wrist away. “Yeah, me and the fucking dog, more like.”

“How much did it all come to? The food and shit?”

You shrug. “Like, forty dollars. I don’t know.”

“Gave you sixty. Where’s my change?”

You frown, hands on your hips. “If you don’t know how to budget properly, that’s not my problem.”

“And if you don’t know when to just lie and say you spent it all, that’s not mine. Twenty bucks, kid.” He holds his hand out, fingers beckoning.

The squeal of the gate interrupts, followed by a barrage of voices. Will and Benny and Mal and – as you lean back to watch them parade through the yard, you spot the figure of Frankie at their heels.

“Pope?” Will calls. “Pope, do me a favor. Remind me which one of us threw up at Busch Gardens that one time. Remember – right after we rode Gwazi?”

Santiago chuckles. “I remember Mallory wearing her raspberry slushie.”

Will guffaws in Mal’s face.

“I spit up!” she protests. “I spit up in a flowerbed. I was not wearing my slushie.”

“You were fluorescent pink the whole day,” Will says. He slings an arm around your shoulders. “You remember, lil Santi?”

You frown. Yeah, you fucking remember.

You remember being forced to sit between Frankie and Mal the entire way home. Santiago got dibs on the front seat by pretending he was carsick, and Mal had to sit by an open window so she didn’t stink your dad’s car out with all her raspberry-flavored puke.

You and Frankie bickered the whole journey. Both absolutely certain that the other was leaning too far over your seats. Your dad vowed he’d never let you both in his car at the same time, ever again.

“Mhm,” you grit, shooting daggers at your best friend.

She mouths a Sorry, and then places her salad bowl in the middle of the table. “Enough about throwing up. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

The boys spend twenty minutes arguing over how the barbecue works, before a single bit of food is cooked. You and Mal watch from the table, sneaking Ange slices of cheese and giggling when Will and Benny break into their fifth argument of the night.

Santi and Frankie take charge, shoving the brothers out of the way.

Pope passes over the meat, while Frankie mans the grill. He lifts his cap and wipes his brow with his bicep, giving his head a shake as he flips burgers and turns sausages.

And no, you’re not watching him. You’re focused on Mal and her story about some guy from work. Or – it might be a guy from her yoga class. The instructor, maybe? You’re not sure. Frankie just flapped the collar of his shirt and the hem lifted, exposing a sliver of his tummy.

You’re not watching him, though.

He runs his tongue along his top lip, focusing on the sizzle and spatter of the grill. His arm tenses, turning the tongs over and over. Wide shoulders stretch when he reaches for a plate.

He’s laughing quietly at whatever Santi’s babbling about at his side. His eyes are stuck on the barbecue in front of him. His fingers twirl around the tongs again. He never looked so lean and so broad and so fucking different, all at once.

Weird different. Good different?

You feel your cheeks flush with heat. This time, it’s not so much anger, as it is –

Oh, shit.

Mal gets up for a refill at the same time Santiago jogs inside to grab more meat. You and Frankie are alone on the patio – Will and Benny are kicking a ball for Ange to chase on the grass.

Morales turns, and you instantly stare down at your beer. You take a forceful swig as he approaches.

“Hotdog?” he asks, holding a plate down to you.

“Huh?”

He glares at you and scoffs. “Are you dumb? Hotdog.” He slips it onto the table in front of you.

You squint at the grill marks, and then squint up at Frankie. Puzzled and…offended, at the same time. You come back to your body with a jolt. “Why the hell are you–? Have you laced it with something?”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder, tongue between his teeth. “No, I haven’t fucking laced it with anything. I just figured you should have the first one, since you put all this on for us. But – Jesus, give me it.”

Your fingers lock around the paper plate when he tries to steal it back. For all that he’s a dick and might actually try to poison you – you’re fucking starving.

You figure you can stomach the poison.

Frankie sighs. He lets go. “I’m tryna be nice, alright? You know nice?”

“I know nice. You’re not it.”

“Shut up and eat your hotdog, lil Santi.”

You mimic him in a squeak as he strolls off, shaking his head. Still, the second he’s back at the grill, you rip into the hotdog.

Frankie stays at the opposite end of the table for the entire meal – closest seat to the barbecue, and furthest seat from you. There’s too much chatter, too much hilarity being thrown back and forth between you for either of you to kick up a row.

Probably better for the guys’ sakes, but – you want to fucking row.

It’s like a hit, now. A rush of electricity, any time Frankie looks at you for longer than it takes his face to twist into a grimace. You’re hunting for ways to ignite something – anything. Looking for an excuse to drop that naked match and set the whole thing alight.

Because it’s fun, when you’re in the heat of it. Feeling his eyes on you, as hot and angry as flames. Being suffocated by the smoke of it all; breathing in less and less air and more…him.

And, anyway – who knows you better than the one person who pisses you off the most?

As the sun is snuffed by the heavy hand of dusk, you disappear to a quieter corner of the yard. Tucked between two thick beech trees, you throw yourself into the hammock – one leg draped over the side, swinging idly through the night air.

A beer bottle balanced on your tummy, the round base seeping a chilled ring into your shirt. The swish of leaves overhead and the annoying midges at your ears for company.

That is – until the sound of footsteps over crisp grass, and the creak of an old, splintered garden chair disturb your peace.

Frankie adjusts his cap, flatting his fringe beneath it, and sits back. “You never change, do you, Garcia? Still the same little longer you always were.”

You hold your hands out, gulping back beer – and glee. “Can I fucking help you? I’m minding my own business.”

“Thought you might want some company.”

“Not yours, dickhead. You think I’m way the hell over here ‘cause I wanted you to come annoy me?”

He hums, picking at a flake of paint on the armrest. “Sure wanted me to annoy you the other night.”

“Alright,” you clip. “Cheap shot. You been practicing that one all afternoon?”

“Since I saw you at the store.”

You roll your eyes.

Frankie slips a cigarette from its pack and lights it, tipping his chin to blow a white cloud to the sky. “You’re too much fun,” he tells the stars.

You squint through the dark, staring at the glowing cherry. “What?”

“You. You get so pissed, so easily. Always have.”

“Well, you antagonize me. Always have.”

His cheeks lift. It’s something softer than a smirk, still laced with too much attitude to be a smile. “That’s ‘cause you were always around. Everywhere Santi went, there you were. Closer than his shadow.”

“Well,” you glower, “’s what happens when you have a big brother. You’re void of love; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I get it,” he says. “It just got fun to mess with you, after a while.”

“Uhuh,” you take another swig, “so is that what you’re doing? Messing with me?”

Frankie’s shoulders jump. “You tell me. There were two of us in your room that night.”

You swing your legs down to the grass. It’s brittle under your socks when you stand, still focusing on the end of his cigarette. “Damn, you really can’t shut up about it, can you? How many times have you tugged one to the thought of it?”

“Tugged one,” he snickers, but he seems nervous – watching as you approach. “What age are you?”

You push his knees wider, slotting between his thighs. “Which part does it for you? What sends you over the edge?”

“Come on, lil Santi,” Frankie says, averting his eye. “You’re embarrassing yourself now.”

One knee up, resting on the crease of his jeans. You lean forward and nudge his hip, lay your hands gently on his shoulders. “I bet you still hear me in your dreams.”

He scans up and down your body, lingering on your bare thigh. “Not – not gonna work, kid,” he promises, shaking his head. “You still annoy the fuck outta me.”

“Right, right.” You pinch the pale stick from between his teeth. “’cause nothing’s changed, yeah?”

His head sways in agreement. He’s distracted, watching as you lift your hand to your mouth.

You smile down at him. “’cept you know how I taste now, so.”

You slot the damp end of the cigarette between your lips and suck. Sharp, acrid heat sails over your tongue and down your throat, filling your chest in one inhale. You cough a little, batting the smoke as you blow it out.

“Tastes fucking disgusting,” you croak. “How can you smoke these?”

Frankie’s eyes never leave your lips. “You get used to it.”

You take another draw, letting the smoke soar through the space between you. “Gross,” you say, and prop the cig back between his lips. “Just like you!”

“Sh…shut up,” he groans, adjusting in his seat.

“Make me.”

But he doesn’t bite. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares back, rolling the smoldering stick between his thumb and finger. Running his tongue along his teeth.

You spill the last of your beer onto your tongue, cocking an eyebrow at him, and push from his lap.

You make it no more than five steps, before that same weight from the parking lot is around your shoulders.

He pings the cigarette somewhere in the grass, and grabs onto your elbow.

“Fran– Jesus – Where are we–?”

He drags you through the dull dusk to the other side of the lawn, ignoring the click of the motion sensor. You’re thrown through a wooden door onto cold concrete before the yard light floods over you.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Weak slivers of moonlight illuminate each tool hanging from the wall. The fairy lights outside lose their battle against the darkness the second they creep through the window.

Before you can sling something mocking at him, Frankie has you pinned against the wall.

“You want me to make you shut up?” he growls, teeth grazing your neck. His fingers slip behind the waist of your shorts, plucking at the button. “I’ll make you shut up. Make you shut up all goddamn night.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shirt. You push on his chest, walking him backwards over to the workbench.

The thing shudders when he rocks against it.

“The fuck are you doing?” he murmurs, watching as you kneel before him.

“Getting used to it,” you reply.

You pull his belt apart, loosen the fly on his pants, and pull until they’re low on his hips.

Frankie holds onto the bench with a white-knuckle grip. He lays his hand over the crown of your head, rubbing small circles. A laugh slips across his tongue. “This what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

You ignore him, instead focusing on the solid shape in his underwear.

His hips flinch when you drag your palm along it. He’s hard already. He hisses at your cold fingers on his stomach, tensing as your knuckles skim below the elastic.

And then…he’s in your palm. All of him. Frankie fucking Morales.

You’re trying not to think too deep about it.

Your fingers wrap around him, barely meeting around his width, and you slip him from his boxers.

His cock springs free, swaying once, twice – then settling to the right.

Your mouth fills with saliva. Suddenly – there’s no way not to think too deep about it.

He’s…he’s big. He’s thick; smooth and sculpted, veins trailing around his shaft. It’s not like you ever considered what he’s walking around with before, but looking at it now – you can’t believe it’s him.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him all the way down to the hair at his base. A wet trail, lips curving around the size of him. You run your tongue up and down, circling the tip and toying with it.

Frankie cups your cheek. “Pretty little mouth,” he utters. “Put it to good use, huh?”

You don’t need him to ask twice.

You sink down on him. Every inch of him – every aching, choking inch. Your jaw slackens to take him; nails digging into his thighs when he bumps the back of your throat.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he hisses. His hand comes down on your head a little too heavily.

You yelp and pull back, gasping when he slips out. “Prick,” you breathe, closing your lips around his tip again.

“Just too sweet with it,” he murmurs, guiding himself back across your tongue.

You suckle on him, using your hands to pump the inches your mouth can’t take.

Frankie’s head tips back, panting at the roof. His hips thrust to meet your movements. “Feels so – goddamn – good,” he moans, and you hum with glee.

You take his balls in your hands, kneading them as you work your way lower. He’s so deep in your mouth that it makes your eyes water. Each slip of his tip against the back of your throat makes you gag, pulls a lewd, muffled sound from your chest.

It shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But he’s falling apart under your fingertips, he’s unwinding right before you. He’s whispering your name, begging you not to stop. Just like that, just like that, just like that. Oh, fuck, just like that.

It’s addictive. Now that you know how he looks, how he feels, you’ll never go back to before. When the most thrill he gave you was a burning temper; feeling your pulse jump in your throat with rage.

This – whatever the fuck this is – is all you know, now. Pulling threads from one another, watching the way they unravel. Watching each other unravel. Flashes of eye contact, salt and slick and sex dripping from every secret word.

Frankie’s hips jerk. His cock spasms.

You don’t want him to come down your throat. You don’t want him to climax when he’s too deep for you to taste it.

You want him all over – your lips, your tongue, dribbling down your chin. You want to mix him with your saliva and swallow; warm, salty, Frankie.

He got his taste. Now you want yours.

You bring your hands up to his thighs, purposefully pushing back off him.

His grip loosens, and he looks down. Brows low and close, eyes blown wide like he’s higher than any drug could take him.

He’s as addicted as you are.

“My mouth,” you mumble, head of his cock circling your glistening lips. “In my mouth.”

“Yeah?” he says, and the weight of his cock slaps on your bottom lip. “That where you want it, baby?”

“Mhm.” You wrap your lips back around him.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Frankie spits, laughing. “Shit – just like that. Yeah, that’s it.”

Three, four more soaking strokes of your tongue and he’s twitching again.

You pull back only enough to rest his tip on your tongue, feeling the pulsing heat as he comes. Watching the way his face tightens, the pull of his brows as it overcomes him.

His eyes stay locked on you. Your fluttering lashes, your puffy, glossy lips. He fills your mouth and then some – semen spilling from the corners and dribbling down your jaw. And the sound he makes – this broken, scattered moan, bordering on a fucking whimper – is fucking perfect.

Frankie’s hand locks at the base of your skull, holding you steady until he’s done. His cock slips from your bottom lip. He gives one last satisfied sigh, petting your head as you stroke him slowly, tenderly – swiping kitten licks at the dripping mess of him.

“Fuck,” he moans, letting his eyes close over. His weight slumps against the workbench. “The fuck do you spend so much time yapping for when you’re that good with your mouth?”

You hum in amusement, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. He’s softening, but still a decent size. Still a weight to it that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

One last little kiss, and you tuck him back into his boxers. You drag the back of your hand across your chin.

Frankie holds his hands out, and you pull yourself up. He fixes himself into his jeans, turning away to do up his belt. He had his cock in your throat two minutes ago, and here he is pretending to be shy.

He turns back around, half disappeared to the dark shed. “I, uh…I don’t want you to think that I came here just to…just for that.”

Your tongue dabs at the inside of your cheek, all salty. “Then this is awkward, ‘cause that’s the only reason I hadn’t kicked you out yet.”

He laughs, dropping your gaze. “You…” he shakes his head, “…are such a little shit, you know that?”

It’s nicer than he would’ve worded it half an hour ago. But still – having an exchange with Frankie that doesn’t involve spitting insults or jagged glares, warms your blood in a way that’s new and…unsettling.

“We should probably…” You toss a thumb over your shoulder, eyes flitting to the string bulbs outside. “We don’t want them wondering what’s…you know.”

He nods and strides over to the door. The wood squeals against concrete as he pulls it open.

The summer swirls around you again, sweetening the stuffy heat of the shed. Mal’s voice surfs through the breeze �� she’s still arguing over the Busch Gardens story.

You make to step out, and Frankie’s arm halts you.

He opens his palm. “Even,” he tells you. “We’re even.”

He seems sure of himself. Sure of you. He looks you in the eye and doesn’t blink.

You smirk. Your hand slips into his, letting him shake your fist once. You stare straight back at him.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Francisco.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Fortnight

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

summary: you were never cut out to be a WAG

a/n: guys i really like this one so i hope you love it too 🤍

masterlist ttpd masterlist

_______

“Oh my god, we need to get you help,” your best friend, Logan, gasps, walking in on you, three beers deep. You are sitting on the floor of your bedroom, Lando’s too when he’s actually home, the curtains closed, dirty clothes scattered on the floor. What he doesn’t know is that this is your normal.

“I’m fine,” you don’t even slur. Your phone is discarded to the side, beside the latest apology flowers given -shipped- to you by your supposedly loving boyfriend. You haven’t picked up his last couple calls, so he sent your friend to check in.

“Come on, get up and shower while I clean all this, and you call Lando after,” Logan sighs, pulling you off the floor as you finish the beer.

You begrudgingly walk to the bathroom, your friend setting out a fresh change of clothes. “Just, don’t tell Lando. He’s stressed enough,” you tell him, closing the door once you get a confirmation.

Twenty minutes later, you are sitting on the edge of the sink, phone ringing.

“Babe, are you okay, you haven’t been answering?” Lando asks, his worried voice makes a pit in your stomach.

“Lan, I’ve just been a little busy, that’s all. Sorry for worrying you. Are you okay?” despite him being the reason the reason for your recent state, you don’t want him to be hurt.

You miss breaks, when he would be with you all the time, now it seems like you only see each other in passing, like good neighbors who make that corny comment about the weather.

Lando finds you in a similar position as your friend did, except this time you are crying on the floor, not drunk. He got a couple free days off and is eager to spend them with you.

“Darling, what happened?” he kneels down beside you, his voice making you cry harder. “Baby,” his voice and heart breaks as you look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks.

“I-,” you gas for air. “I love you, Lando. It’s ruining my life,” each sob breaks his heart.

“No, no. Don’t say that,” he pleads, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Do you know the longest amount of time we’ve spent together? 14 days, a fortnight. I can’t keep doing this. The apology gifts for missed moments, the quick phone calls that are hardly passable for time spent together,” you pause to catch your breath, the tears still flowing. “I can’t do this, Lando. I miss home, I miss America,” your eyes meet his, both of you broken.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were struggling this much,” he whispers, sitting down and pulling you into him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you look away, the feeling of him foreign.

“I’m off the next couple days, let’s work on us,”

“Lando-,”

“And I’ll bring you to more races even though I know you find it hard to get off of work,”

“Lando-,”

“Please don’t say it,” he whispers, kissing you. Another foreign feeling.

“I’m moving back to America, tomorrow,” you tell him, feeling like you’ve hit absolute rock bottom. Lando looks around the bedroom, realizing the only thing of yours left was your packed suitcase in the corner.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asks, your eyes not able to meet his.

“I was going to visit you in Woking tonight,” the silence that falls between you is deafening. You spend the night in separate rooms, and in the morning he insists on driving you to the airport. He gets out of the car, pulling your suitcase out for you.

“Please don’t go,” he asks one last time, the both of you crying.

“I have to, Lando. It’s what’s best for both of us,” you step closer to him.

“Winter break is almost here, please, just a little longer. This isn’t what’s best for me,” Lando says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love you, Lan, but you deserve someone who can be with you at each race and support you more than I can,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You are always enough for me, I love you,” he cries.

“Please, Lan, I have to put myself first,” you grab your luggage handle and take a step back.

“I won’t block your number, if you ever need anything or are in London, call me, I’ll be there at the drop of a hat,” Lando says, his tear stained cheeks glistening in the sun. His offer is a complete change to how your relationship was.

“Goodbye, Lando,” you turn around, walking into the airport. You hand covers your mouth as you sob, refusing to turn back and look at an equally distressed Lando.

You refuse to check social media, only texting your family and Logan when you land in Miami. You knew Logan from karting before you quit, and he became your closest friend. He offered his apartment in Miami to you until you buy your own.

You quickly got a job and moved to Destin, a whole 9 hours away from Miami, 11 from Austin. Florida is treating you a lot nicer, but you feel stuck in an endless February. You took the magic move on pill that is relocating, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You changed your phone number when you got back to the US, and deleted your social media apps. Lando tried calling you and DM-ing you, but never got a reply.

“I will fly you down, please just come and support me. I need you at my home race,” Logan begs, wanting you to take a two week vacation to spend time with him in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. Something deep inside you agreed, so you pack your bags and hit the road, electing to drive.

You arrive the Wednesday before race week, and stay until the Wednesday after race week. It is nice because you can visit your own family too.

“I got you a paddock pass,” Logan says as you both lay on the beach the day you got in.

“Lo, I can’t go back there,” you turn your head to look at him.

“You can stay in Williams, you don’t have to go visit Oscar when I do,” Logan says, referencing the Australian who is also staying with Logan. Oscar promised he wouldn’t tell Lando you were in town.

“You know, I can get you a much nicer car than your Mercedes,” Oscar says, sitting beside you. Logan gets up to grab two waters.

“A McLaren? Not my thing, I hated driving,” you can’t even bring yourself to say his name. “Yeah, but I do love my car, I always wanted it,” you say.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Oscar leans over, bumping you with his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t. It’s still hard. Sometimes I think about calling him, but he won’t pick up. I have a new number and he has a new girl from what Logan said,” you admit.

“He’s miserable, he will never admit it, but he is. He hasn’t been the same since you left, but you seem to be doing a lot better. You have color back in your skin and you aren’t drinking all the time,” Oscar says, knowing what state you were in when Lando called Logan to check in on you. You were a functioning alcoholic, barely functioning at that point.

“Yeah, this was the right decision. Maybe it’s best if I don’t call Lando. Even if he is miserable, it might make things worse. I can’t get back together with him, but I want him to be okay,” you tell Oscar. What you don’t know is that Lando is renting the beach house beside the one you, Logan, and Oscar are staying in for the two weeks. He is jealous about how happy you seem with his teammate and your best friend.

You figure it out when you take a midnight walk, clad in a sweater with your university’s logo on it.

“Lando, hi,” you breathe, taking him in.

“Hey, you look really good. I like the sweater,” he shifts his weight in the sand. You look healthier, happier, and it kills him.

“I, um, changed my phone number and deleted my social media apps,” you say, answering the question he didn’t want to ask.

“I tried dating again, but I broke it off, I couldn’t do it,”

“Sorry, I should’ve thought about how I would hurt you,” you say, looking at your feet in the sand.

“No, you needed to do it. I don’t blame you, I was basically abandoning you,” Lando says, silently inviting you to join him on the walk. It becomes a habit, you join him every night.

“Congrats on the win,” you hug him on night 11. It was a silent agreement that you would go your separate ways again after the two weeks.

“Where are you living now?” Lando asks on night 14, both of you sitting in the sand between the two houses.

“Destin, Florida. I bought an apartment that used to be a timeshare,” you say, watching the waves.

“That’s pretty close, right?”

“Nine hours, Lan. other side of the state,” you smile, trying not to laugh. Lando’s heart flutters at the way you say his nickname, but squashes it.

“Oh, well I’m glad you were able to come down and support Logan,” he says, yawning a little.

“Alright, I have to wake up early to drive home,” you stand up, brushing the sand off of your legs.

“Drive safe,” Lando hugs you, finally feeling healed.

“Goodbye, Lan,” you whisper.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, capturing the look of you in his mind.

[sefinaa]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞.❞

Who is your soul tribe? 🐚

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

This is a tarot card reading. I pulled out 2-3 cards for each pile and a little bit of advice.

18+ readings: @enchantressiren

Pictures | divider

Pile I

Knight of cups and nine of swords.

Your soul tribe is mainly focused on forgiveness, love, devotion to yourself, and humanity. I am seeing a group of people wearing stereotypical, spiritual clothing, and they are in a circle together, as there is a fireplace in the middle of them. And one person is playing an acoustic guitar. Some of the other people are slowly clapping their hands or using an instrument to make a sound that is calming for the mind. I see someone with a wooden shaker, and that person is someone who is dear to you. And then I see you sitting on the log as they all do this beautiful relaxing song for you, as now you are part of the tribe, and you will listen and sway your head back and forth, and you’ll feel so much peace within. And my intuition says, “this is the first time I have felt peace. I am finally with my people. Thank you, (whoever higher up you believe in).” My intuition basically explains how you finally found the people who were already fated for you, but at the same time who are there for you to feel the sensation of happiness and accomplishment because they are your soul tribe. This is your fated destiny, as it is meant for your soul to find its right destination and finally feel complete.

With the knight of cups, you were able to follow what your heart wanted instead of what you have been doing for most of your life. You have been someone who was a follower and someone who always used logic instead of focusing on what was in your heart. You have a desire for a journey because everything in your life, as of this moment, is stale and the same. Nothing changes, and you try so hard for change. For a sense of purpose, but nothing happens as you keep chasing. And you are confused about what to do. So stop chasing; don’t even worry about attracting. Just do what your heart wants, and you will get everything you want.

The nine of swords, indicates anxiety and a feeling of despair and hopelessness, and that’s how you feel right now. You are afraid to stop chasing and find your people—your soul tribe because you believe that everything you do comes to a complete failure. But that’s because you focus on logic instead of your heart. You must focus on what your heart wants, and if you cannot figure it out, then take some time alone and figure out what you want. Write them down, talk to yourself, record them, scroll on random websites, and figure out what sounds appealing to you and what makes you happy. And once you do that, and your mindset hits your ideal, you will find your soul tribe since it’s the end of the destination.

Masterlist | Paid Readings

Pile II

Four of swords reversed, ace of wands, and knight of pentacles.

Immediately from your soul tribe, I can feel such enthusiasm, excitement, and screaming of ''AHHHHHH, I LOVEEEE YOUUUU,’’ and ‘’you mean the world to us, keep rockin’!’’ Wow, your soul tribe is made up of very cheerful and loving people who will always praise you for the little things you do in your life. For example, let's say you passed your exam and it wasn't a big deal to you, but to them, it is everything. They will be celebrating everything with such huge smiles on their faces, and all of this is genuine. I can feel your energy, ‘’is this really going to happen?’’ and yes, it will happen. You deserve their love, not because you chose this pile, but because you are a worthy human being who deserves the best love. So, with the four of wands reversed, this card focuses on restlessness, burnout, stress, and this is your overall energy. You guys keep trying to please your parents, those around you, your role models, etc., but you haven't tried to please yourself. You already see no point in rewarding yourself because you aren't getting the validation you deserve from these people, but remember.. You must learn to ask for your own validation because, at the end of the day, we only have ourselves. I know that you guys love the work you do and you guys think it's the best, but you lose your encouragement because of them, so stop going to them for it and find your validation from within.

As I was reading, 11:11 pm appeared on my phone, and this angel number is about the journey of having your manifestation come to you. This shows that you are on the right path and that you shouldn't give up. Keep moving forward and keep striving for what you want, not what others want. All of your manifestations are coming to you; you truly do not have to worry!

Your soul tribe will also be focusing on how you express your power within—basically, how you express how you feel with others and how you can show who is boss. They want to help you understand that everyone is powerful because they're the boss of their reality and that no one should stop them from doing what they love. I hear that a lot of you guys want to focus on the art industry, but the people around you will not support you with it because it's ‘’impossible=ble’’ to make money as an artist, but remember this: whatever you desire, whatever you want, if you keep doing what makes you happy, you will have what you desire because your vibration increases to the right frequency to gain this abundance. In other words, keep doing what makes you happy, and abundance will appear because of the happy energy that is within you. This goes for the rest of you as well. Some of you guys are thinking about majoring in business to have your own business, and you want to have the knowledge to have it, so keep striving for what you believe will work.

With the knight of pentacles, this card speaks about efficiency, hard work, and responsibility, which explains why I mentioned manifestations. Your soul tribes are already master manifestors; whenever they want something, it always comes to them because they have a strong belief system and they have done what they wanted. They will show you the same knowledge they have learned because they know that you are worthy of it and that everyone deserves this knowledge. They go by the motto ‘’knowledge is power.’’ They know it is powerful and can be used in the wrong way. That is why they are selective with the right people because they don't want anyone to harm this knowledge. At the same time, they do it without expecting anything, despite the hard work they put in to show their friends or tribe all about it. They know that no one in it will use it maliciously, and they have a feeling in their heart, or heart chakra, that no one in their tribe will trick them. So, you should stop seeing yourself as a bad person too. How can a ‘’bad’’ person be a part of this welcoming and trustworthy tribe if they believe that those who are good within deserve this knowledge? No, they do not believe that a bad person on the outside isn't worthy of it. They can feel the energy of people and will determine if their hearts are good. For example, my intuition tells me that one of your soul tribe members is a criminal who killed many people but has made amends with their dues. They have changed drastically to the point where they are an advocate for those who have their children killed and will protect anyone.. Does this sound like a bad character? No, it is not—definitely not in my book and surely not in theirs. My intuition also tells me, ‘’my dear, you have a harsh conception of what is wrong and right. You must reduce this negative thinking and understand what it is like.. To be someone who is actually bad, you are a good soul, and you are deserving of love. Change your mindset to meet your tribe.’’

Masterlist | Paid Readings

Pile III

The star, queen of wands (reversed), and king of pentacles (reversed).

Before I explain who your soul tribe is, I want to get in depth with how you feel before I tell you. I feel a huge sense of jealousy, possessiveness, anger, frustration, etc. I want to take control of other people and treat them like puppets. But these are not my thoughts. These are your thoughts, your inner feelings, and how you have been projecting to other people because you deem yourself worthy, but everyone else is incompetent compared to you. You have a stick up your ass. And you can get mad at me if you like to, but I like to keep my readings as honest as I can. So, I want you to fully understand that everyone is intelligent in their own way. People will not have the same hobbies as you and will not understand things the same way you do. If everyone was like that, everything would be boring and monotonous. Do you want a world that is like you for every single thing? That would be like cloning yourself constantly, and you would be sick of it. I know you would be. So reduce your possessive energy because if you don’t, you will not find your soul tribe, and I want you to. I want you to improve yourself as a person and find the people who are going to elevate you to a higher level. I believe that everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone is deserving of love, no matter what happened in their past, because the past is the past. But you must make that change in your life to have what you desire in it. You must change your thoughts—you wonder why the things that you want aren't coming into your life; you aren’t aligned with what you desire. You are only aligned with negativity because your mindset is negative.

To start off with your soul tribe, who are they? Your soul tribe will give you the hope that you want. I know that a lot of you have had extremely shitty childhoods and that you’re actually projecting that feeling because your father or your grandfather always said that they were better than you, that they are better than other people, and that no one is deserving of anything good except them. I’m hearing a huge God complex. And it is okay to think of yourself as worthy, great, and powerful. To have a mindset like this where you think you are better than everyone and you’re more superior really allows your ego to win, and instead of allowing yourself to fully understand and be like, “ok I’m not better than everyone else, but I’m not worthless either; I’m worthy of things I desire, and that is my truth.” This will help you understand that you don’t have to go all the way into that mindset to be confident. You can be confident and empathetic toward other people.

I’m also feeling that when you do reduce this mindset and find your soul tribe, you are going to be happy and full of abundance in your life. You are going to be able to feel a sense of fulfillment like a phoenix when it dies. Think of the tarot card for death. Death represents a new chapter in her life, like our old shelves have melted away and we are coming to our path, and a stronger version of us is a more healthy, more compassionate part of ourselves that we used to deem unworthy because it showed vulnerability, but vulnerability is okay to have. Vulnerabilities and emotions make us human, and it’s completely normal to have them. When we become more tuned to our vulnerability and emotions, we experience more peace and happiness. You cannot have happiness and peace without understanding your emotions.

With your soul tribe, they will teach you how to release anger and how to release your anxiety. You have this assumption that you are just pure consciousness, that the thoughts that you have in your mind or just pure experiences don’t necessarily exist, and as you breathe in and out, you will allow your mind to let your thoughts pass by, like driving a car. They will teach you how to go into the roots of your trauma, and they will teach you how to use those roots in a positive way instead of allowing them to affect your life in a negative way. They will teach you how to earn abundance in your life without having a greedy mindset. With the king of pentacles reversed, this card focuses on greed, indulgence, and sensuality. Basically, my intuition tells me they will be teaching you how to lift off your spirits into a higher light to achieve your higher self, because my tarot card that has king of pentacles is a man who has veins, trees, and roots covering him and chaining him up. There are animals near him, and in the background there’s a fox, and then his hair is scattered and pulled up, but on top is a white circle. So my intuition tells me this is you; you are the man here. The roots that are around the man are your thoughts and the possessiveness that you have at the moment. The animals surrounding him are your soul tribe. There is a fox, a raccoon, and a badger.

Foxes are known to be highly intuitive, and they are playful and secretive, but they are compassionate to those who are close to them. Raccoons are smart. They have great solutions to their problems, and they think I have a box. They focus on their surroundings, and they’re very present in the moment. Badgers are those who protect others and themselves, and they want to fulfill what they desire, mainly about humanity as well. My intuition tells me that badgers like to help other badgers, they like to help themselves, they like to make a community, and such.

So why am I explaining to the animals that I see you? My intuition tells me that each animal that is in my tarot card is your community or your soul tribe. I hear the leader is the fox, the people in your soul tribe are the raccoons, and you are the badger deep down inside. I know you are the badger. Despite possessing that negativity energy that you had surrounding you before your trauma developed, you were extremely sweet, so damn loving, and so helpful that you were always there for other people. But then things start to happen, and you start chaining up that sweet and loving soul and a fear to protect yourself, but I want you to remember that it’s okay to be a good person to care about other people. Just try to make sure that you know who the good people are and who the bad are, and if you cannot tell, try to use your intuition. And do not tell me that you do not have intuition because you had to find this pile that was right for you. You must learn to trust yourself, because that is how you will find your soul tribe too.

Masterlist | Paid Readings

[chantiepie]

💞ESPRESSO💞 Yoongi +18

Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You are the complete opposite of Yoongi... And he can't get you out of his head.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation.

Words: 5k.

ko-fi ☕

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so

You liked pink, feeling the morning sun caress your skin as you went for your morning run. Your favorite coffee was with milk, you enjoyed pop music, your shoes were always soft and colorful, perfectly matching the delicate bows adorning your wavy hair.

Yoongi was the complete opposite. He preferred black. At night, he went out to drink whiskey, finding comfort in the smooth burn of the drink. In the mornings, it was pure coffee, without the addition of milk or sugar, just the invigorating bitterness to awaken his senses. Ink stained his skin, almost covering it completely, each drawing telling a story he kept to himself.

He couldn't understand where that attraction to You came from. He spent hours thinking about pink bows, something he had never done before. It all started three months ago, when you walked into the bar accompanied by some people he already knew. The moment your eyes met his, it was as if a magnet drew him to you. Throughout the night, even as he tried to disguise it, it was difficult for Yoongi to look away.

He mentally thanked his friend when he called his group to join them, even though there was no direct interaction between you.

After 10 minutes, he watched you, laughing at everything that was happening, engaging in lively conversations with the group.

After that encounter, things went from bad to worse for Yoongi. He was never one to get emotionally involved with anyone, preferring casual or no-strings-attached relationships. However, your presence stirred something within him in a way he couldn't understand. You were everything he avoided: outgoing, funny, sweet, the type of girl who seemed destined for a conventional life, marrying some heir who majored in business at Harvard and now works at a major Wall Street investment firm.

In that regard, he wasn't wrong. Yoongi, after that night, didn't make any advances since he discovered during the conversation that you were committed and that your boyfriend couldn't attend because he was tired, having recently been promoted. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think about you, even when he tried to keep his distance.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

The second time you guys met, during a game night, or as they call it when the real goal is just to drink, Taehyung asks about your boyfriend. Yoongi continues to pour whiskey pretending not to hear..You respond that he's not coming because he's been really busy lately and quickly try to change the subject by letting out your classic laughs. 'What a surprise,' Tae whispers while sending only an eye roll. You listen, ignoring afterwards. However, Yoongi realizes that something isn't right in your reaction.

During the small party, as he scans the room, most people are standing around smoking or chatting, and the lights are partially dimmed, emitting only a kind of light that slowly changes colors. He notices two shadows in a corner near the kitchen and quickly realizes it's you and Jimin talking. From the movements and body language, he can see your expression of disappointment, with a look of indignation that he can't ignore. It's not sadness, but rather a clear disappointment that hangs over you.

Min rises from the couch, deliberately ignoring the tempting gestures of the redhead seeking his attention. With determined steps, he crosses the room, passing by everyone without exchanging a word, and ascends the stairs towards the balcony on the upper floor of the house. His steps echo softly through the hallway as he approaches the open area of the balcony, where the night breeze welcomes him.

Upon reaching the balcony, Min takes a deep breath of the cool night air before reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He eagerly seeks nicotine, longing to find brief relief from the tensions surrounding him.

The glass door is open, inviting him to enter. He settles into one of the chairs, immersing himself in his own thoughts, when he notices someone approaching and sitting beside him. He recognizes the presence without needing to check.

"Can I have one?" The question is simple but loaded with meaning. Min needs no more than that to understand. Without uttering a word, he extends the cigarette along with the lighter, sharing the gesture in silent understanding

"Someone asked about you yesterday," Jungkook, a guy who recently started working at the same bar as Yoongi, said casually as the two of them organized the glasses to open the establishment.

Jungkook, the youngest among the staff, was still attending university, carving out his path for the future. The guy had moved to the capital in a rush, without having had time to plan properly. Now, he found himself dependent on his parents for expenses, which made him feel like a burden on his shoulders. Determined to become more independent and relieve the financial burden on his family, Jungkook began looking for part-time jobs or ones that were only on weekends, which led him to Hoseok, who introduced him to the opportunity to work at the bar.

The next morning was just another ordinary workday for Yoongi. As he organized the glasses, his mind wandered among the bar's tasks.

"Someone asked about me?" Yoongi asked, trying to disguise his interest, but his curiosity was evident in his tone of voice.

"Yes, it was a girl," Jungkook replied, grabbing more glasses to organize. "She seemed interested in getting to know you better."

A shiver ran down Yoongi's spine. Was it her? Was she finally showing some interest? He couldn't help but feel a mixture of hope and anxiety.

"Do you know her name?" Yoongi asked, trying to sound casual.

Jungkook thought for a moment before responding. "I think it was... Yuna? Yeah, I think that was it."

The excitement on his face quickly faded, turning into a bored expression. He remembered her, the redhead, she was very pretty, but his mind was already made up.

Jungkook noticed, but chose to stay silent about it, quickly changing the subject and focusing on Hoseok's birthday that would take place at the bar in a month.

I can't relate to desperation My "give a fucks" are on vacation And I got this one boy and he won't stop calling When they act this way, I know I got 'em

The third time he saw you... Well... He wasn't sure if he really saw you or if it was just his mind conjuring up your image. It was late at night, during his off-duty hours, and Yoongi was outside a liquor store, along with some customers who had become closer to him. The night was too hot to stay indoors, so he decided to accept one of their invitations to hang out. Let's just say it was just for drinking and smoking outside some liquor store downtown.

After many bottles, including one being accidentally dropped on the ground, he looked at a corner and there you were, or at least he thought it was you. You were wearing a blue dress that reached mid-thigh, adorned with a large bow of the same color adorning your hair from behind.

Suddenly, everything flooded back into his mind, as if a wave of memories hit him, turning into a tangled mess of soft colors, filled with smiles and shared moments, as if he were reliving a scene from a romantic movie. Among the flashes of memory, images of cute teddy bears and affectionate gestures emerged.

It seemed incredibly real, but it all happened so fast. He began to doubt his own sanity, something he had been doing for some time, and the idea of ​​going after to find out who that person was came to his mind. Under the influence of the adrenaline that alcohol provided, he began to seriously consider the possibility of acting, taking advantage of the fact that nobody he was with knew you. This propelled him to overcome his shyness and hesitation, especially in front of the common circle of friends you shared.

One of the friends, probably taller and louder, nudged him on the shoulder with a wide smile. "Hey, Min! What are you staring at so intently? If you keep frowning like that, you'll get more wrinkles."

Yoongi shook his head, trying to play it off. "No, it's nothing. Just... I think I saw someone familiar over there on the corner."

The friend laughed, patting the pale man's back. "Ah, okay, we get it. Let's focus on the bottles, alright?"

Yoongi just nodded, but deep down, the glimpse he had of the figure on the corner continued to echo in his mind, like a soft melody he couldn't forget.

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

"Please, Madonna is a queen," you declare to Jimin with conviction as you both enter the venue, amidst a lively debate about pop divas worthy of a Twitter thread.

"Not just a queen, she's a goddess, along with Cher, baby," Jimin backs up his argument.

The bar belonged to Yoongi, and it was a cozy yet stylish establishment tucked away in a trendy corner of the city. The entrance greeted patrons with a neon sign flickering with warm hues, drawing them into a world where music and conversation flowed freely. Inside, dim lighting cast a soft glow over plush velvet couches and rustic wooden tables, creating an atmosphere that was both inviting and intimate. The walls were adorned with vintage posters of iconic musicians and artists, adding a touch of nostalgia to the modern ambiance. Behind the sleek bar counter, shelves lined with an impressive array of spirits and liquors glimmered under the spotlights, inviting guests to indulge in their favorite drinks. As you and Jimin settled into your seats, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air.

The noise of the music in the bar was loud, but not loud enough to prevent Yoongi from hearing your voice as you entered the establishment. His eyes locked onto you, dressed in a pink dress that hugged your curves irresistibly, outlining each contour with elegance. The suggestive neckline added a touch of boldness, leaving anyone who looked at you drooling with admiration. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a delicately made-up face that exuded confidence and charm. You seemed like a vision of pure sophistication and sensuality, and a subtle hint of jealousy struck Yoongi, though it was something he would never admit out loud.

Finally, it was Hoseok's birthday party, and the bar was packed, considering he was so sociable, seemingly friends with half the city. Yoongi didn't know even 20% of the people there, but he had let his friend invite whoever he wanted as a gift.

As a way to not make it too obvious that he had a crush on you, Yoongi kept himself busy with party duties. He served drinks, helped set up with Jungkook and Taehyung, who, by some miracles, actually started to pitch in... More often than not, they ended up hindering rather than helping.

As they worked on the preparations, Yoongi occasionally cast furtive glances in your direction, observing your movements and conversations with the other guests.

He found himself looking at you again, chatting animatedly with Jimin. You whispered to each other and glanced around, seemingly engaged in a private conversation that no one else could hear. His attention was soon taken when the music stopped, and he saw the guest of honor for the night on the small stage used for live music nights.

"I'm glad everyone's here and I want to thank you all, but especially Yoongi," Hoseok pointed to the dark corner of the bar where his friend was busy making drinks. When Yoongi realized that all eyes were on him, he felt a warmth creeping up his cheeks. But what really embarrassed him was noticing that you were watching him with your big eyes and a smile that made your face glow. "He provided this exclusive space for us. This party would have been impossible without you, brother."

He definitely wasn't used to being the center of attention, and the sensation made him uncomfortable.

As the party was in full swing, a sweet pop song started playing, and that's when he noticed the commotion around him. You were closer to him, and he didn't know how that happened, but something slipped from your lips as you stared into his eyes:

"Oh, he looks so cute wrapped 'round my finger."

You put the straw to your lips and gave him a slight smile. Before he realized it, you had vanished into the crowd.

But this empty space didn't remain so for long. Jimin, the guy he always saw you with everywhere. Something Yoongi suspected at first until he realized, through social media, that besides you being really friends, the guy with the big lips and cute smile had a girlfriend who strangely looked a lot like him. Jimin also got closer to Yoongi a bit before you showed up. He was friendly, not always, but had an aura of a playful boy.

"You got the message, right?" Jimin stopped in front of Yoongi and said this with a somewhat arrogant smile on his face as he nodded toward the upstairs, which not ironically was where Yoongi kept a second home when he wanted to escape from the world or felt too tired to go to his luxury apartment. The older man returned the smile, not wanting to show that he was lost.

"What are you two up to?"

"Why would we be up to anything?"

"You know you're always involved in something, right?" Yoongi raised his left eyebrow slightly as he questioned.

"Are we communicating in questions now?" Jimin repeated the act.

Yoongi remained silent, just waiting for the next response.

"Uh, I'm just getting things done here," he spoke again, pointing to Yoongi's house with his head. Jimin was already pushing him towards the stairs, not allowing Yoongi to think things through. "I need you to grab JK's bag, he left it there."

"Why is his bag in my house?"

"I don't know, just go already."

Yoongi climbed the stairs, trying to go unnoticed, a bit suspicious about what was going on. As he entered through the wooden door, he found the place completely silent and everything in place, the small living room and kitchen were in perfect order, with no sign of anything suspicious. He decided to turn back and return, but before he could do that, a loud noise coming from the bathroom made him freeze in place.

"That's a heavy door," the unmistakable female voice reached his ears, and in seconds, he understood all the strangeness that had occurred downstairs. You appeared in the hallway leading to the bedroom, perfect as always, but stumbling a bit with your tall white boots, most likely due to the force of the door.

Yoongi quickly turned around trying to leave the place unnoticed, but when he tried to open the door, it was locked from the outside. He mentally cursed Jimin for whatever the hell he was trying to do. He turned his gaze to you.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, trying to get your attention. Your surprised expression gave away that something was wrong, but he could see a hint of shyness glimmering in your eyes.

"Yoo-o-ngi?" You cleared your throat, still a bit incredulous. "Is something wrong? I needed to wash my hands. You know? Drinks, dancing, spilled... Jungkook told Jimin and that you authorized me to come here because of the bathroom line... Um, that's it, I guess?" It was like a meltdown, you spoke hurriedly in seconds, Yoongi barely caught on. That nervousness had an explanation.

What Yoongi didn't know was that you were enchanted by his figure, the way he remained mysterious, his large and firm hands holding the whiskey glass... Yoongi was far from the type of guy you were used to dating and attracting, but people like him were your ideal type of guy, the one you imagined before falling asleep or when watching a romantic comedy. It wasn't just a crush, you genuinely had developed an admiration for him in this short period of time. His organization and the way he fought for his goals were like a moment of silence in the daily chaos.

It was difficult for you to find a moment to talk to him because it seemed like the only thing he knew how to do was work. Besides, it would be strange to show up alone at his bar, right?

But it was becoming complicated to hide when you two met. Most of your friends had already noticed your glances, you weren't someone who could pretend. Now, in front of him, alone in a place illuminated only by the moonlight, it was difficult to hide.

"Jungkook didn't warn you, did he? I'm sorry, I-I..."

"Y/N," Yoongi's voice echoed through the hallway, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes met in the dim light, sparking with palpable tension. You held your breath, feeling a wave of desire course through your body. Yoongi's intense gaze pinned you in place, as if you were ensnared in a spell. You could feel the electricity in the air, the attraction pulsing between them like an invisible current. Your lips parted, ready to form words that were never spoken, but the sound died in your throat. You couldn't decipher what he was feeling.

"Just shut up," that wasn't what you expected. "I think I know exactly what's going on."

The tone of voice used left you feeling flushed, it was embarrassing. You tried to ignore all the reactions of your body and began to think about the events. And when you realized the plot, all your eyebrows raised and your cheeks violently reddened in understanding.

Jimin had convinced you to make a move today.

"The plan is easy." He spoke with calculated confidence, as if conducting a masterclass. The images on the TV screen flickered, displaying a variety of suggestive outfits. "You throw him some charm, something subtle but not too subtle, it needs to be teasing but not overly, something like a discreet invitation," Jimin explained, sliding the slides skillfully.

"I'll choose the clothes that please me," you retorted, with a tone of disapproval.

"Your clothes already have a vibe of another reserved, so it's all right," he replied with a mischievous smile. "Continuing, second step: you'll touch up your makeup in the bathroom upstairs. You know how it is, at these parties the main bathroom always gets crowded. Are you understanding?"

"Yes, Professor Park," you replied, feeling somewhat frustrated. "But why do I need to touch up my makeup?"

"Think with me, Y/N," Jimin said, adopting a persuasive tone. "That will probably happen after a while. I want to make sure that, by the time he sees you and you talk, you look absolutely stunning." You trusted Jimin's guidance, even if the reasoning behind it didn't make much sense.

"So, I'll lead the conversation with him and keep him around. When you come back, you'll be ready. You'll throw the charm, disappear, and then come back triumphant," Jimin concluded, outlining the plan with unwavering confidence.

Your hand automatically hits your forehead. You felt a little humiliated, especially considering his strange reaction.

"Yoongi, what did he tell you to come up here?" You don't look at him, avoiding any proximity.

"Does that really matter?" He was in front of you, making it impossible to look away. He saw you biting your lips in a moment of pure impulsivity, and that aroused him to the true Yoongi, the guy who doesn't need to woo someone, he fucks without a care.

He leans towards you, his lips meeting yours. His lips were soft, but you could hardly feel them, due to the force with which he grabbed your waist with one hand and the other behind your head, pulling your hair slightly. Their bodies pressed against each other, seeking relief for the tension that had built up between them.

You moaned in the form of a sigh, and he let out a arrogant chuckle in the middle of the kiss.

"Y/N... We haven't even started and you're already moaning like this?" Yoongi didn't want an answer, but he leaned back slightly from your face, pulling your hair again, this time with force, forcing you to look at him. He took advantage of your stretched neck to lick it up to your ear.

"So needy," he put his tongue back into your mouth.

Suddenly, Yoongi returned to what he was before he met you. The arrogance was in the air. You could only moan and murmur.

When one of his hands slipped between your legs, you choked in the middle of the kiss, stopping in alarm, but that didn't discourage Yoongi, who continued to move his fingers lightly over your panties.

Your mouths were close to each other, but remained separated, so close that Yoongi could feel your breath hitting his lips. Some strands of saliva still connected you. The older man's movements began to get faster, his reactions were making you embarrassed, you were about to climax without him even having touched you properly. A finger slipped into your wet hole.

"Yoongi," you were in ecstasy, broken, looking at his face, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. You felt his breath close to yours, sighing, but without touching, it was a tease. Yoongi's hand slid to your jaw and held it firmly. He knew you were close by the pulsation of your pussy and the grip on his fingers.

"Yoongi... I'm going to cum, please don't stop, please," you whimpered as the tingling began from inside your belly, he kept up the pace; it was so wet there.

"Yes, fuck, cum on my fingers," that was enough.

And so you did, in small gasps and with tightly closed eyes, you melted over him, almost falling to the ground.

You barely noticed when he put you on top of the kitchen table and, with a gentle push, laid you down, pulling up your dress to your waist. Yoongi's large rings made contact with the warm skin of your belly, bringing more sighs.

Yoongi looked into your eyes asking for permission, receiving only a pleading look to continue. You threw your head back, completely lying down. It was only possible to hear the metallic sound of the belt being opened and a light sound of his pants falling to his ankles. Peeking, you came across the most promiscuous scene you had ever seen. Yoongi looking directly at your pussy still covered by panties, with his lips between his teeth, while he masturbated lightly. He grunted like an animal before approaching.

He pushes the panties aside and slowly slides into you, earning a dragged moan from you. He takes advantage of his position and, running his hand over the outside of your thighs, he pulls you closer, returning to vigorously swinging his hips towards you.

His breathing becomes heavier as Yoongi's gaze fixates on the action that is taking place. He is ignoring everything as if that were the only thing that mattered, just listening to the sound of their skins colliding.

"Don't stop," your voice comes out in a whisper, knowing that he is close to climaxing. The movements accelerate more than possible, and Yoongi's voice becomes a tangle of grunts and sighs until he buries himself deep inside you.

You feel every movement of his, every part of him inside you, an overwhelming sensation that makes your whole body tremble. Your breathing becomes heavy, your heart beats irregularly, and the heat between you is palpable, enveloping you in an intense aura of desire and passion.

The last thing you remember is him with you in the shower, bathing you while you played around like two idiots. The hot water running down your naked bodies, the laughter echoing in the small space of the bathroom. Shortly after, without even bothering to dry off, you both fall onto the bed, your bodies still wet, but your hearts filled with an intense and profound connection.

Jimin would be punished for lying.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Two men were inside a large black car parked in front of the bar across the street. The party had ended an hour ago, nearly 7 a.m., but they remained there for an important reason.

"Did it work?" The man with large eyes asks.

"Believe me, I don't give it five months for Y/N to show up with a grumpy mini-Min ready to cry on my shoulder," he says, taking another sip from the cold beer can, taken from Yoongi's special stock, but he knew he deserved it, as they had taken care of the place and closed after the party.

"Anyway, I hadn't even noticed... This... um... thing they have... Jimin, when you wanted to talk to me, I thought it was about Yuna," the other comments.

"Haha, that was a lie. She's obviously attractive. I just wanted to test him a little before leaving my best friend in his hands," Jimin says naturally, gesturing with his hand to support his own plan.

"Lie?" Jungkook turns his body fully towards Jimin, with his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his arms open in indignation.

Jimin puts his hand on his shoulder and follows his gaze to the second floor of the establishment.

"You know, a good cupid needs to ensure all possibilities." Jimin checks his phone one last time before leaving, and only one notification catches his attention.

"Your NETFLIX login is no longer available. Would you like to sign in with another account?"

A scream was heard throughout the neighborhood.

Hello everyone. Just popping in to let you know that next week I'll be posting the second chapter of Get This Man <3.

[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

But what can I say? / Rules must be obeyed

》 The Winner Takes It All, ABBA

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 winner takes all [idiom]: used to say that the winner of a round will win the whole contest

No one looks puzzled when a seven-year-old boy comes rushing into Barcelona’s training centre, some even high fives him or cheers as he passes them at full speed.

Rafael is well known and loved in the building, even more for his joyful personality than for the last name he wears on the back of his jersey.

The kid turns a sharp line to join the team outside. Despite his short legs and his clumsiness in most situations, he has quite control of his footing.

The perks of being Alexia Putellas’ son.

“Looks like our mascotte is back”

“The best Putellas!”

The girls notice him as soon as he sprints from the doors, dribbling around some coaches without much effort, but trampling over a discharged pair of boots. The boy lands hands first on the grass. He takes his time to get up and clean his now stained jeans, quickly assessing the damage and deciding he doesn’t really care.

Jana catches the kid as he comes running once again, lifting him up with a bit more effort than the last time she saw him.

“Jaja put me down, I wanna hug mama!”

“Ouch, I’m not your favourite tia anymore?”

“No, Mapi is”

The girls close enough to hear the exchange burst out laughing, luckily for Jana’s ego and the team’s well being the said defender is not around to brag about it.

“Ohi, mi vida!”

“Mama!”

Hearing Alexia’s voice, Rafael manages to escape the girls’ affection to literally run in her open arms. The hug is emotional even just to watch, his tiny hands holding on the blonde’s neck as she keeps him as close as possible.

“I missed you, monito”

No one wants to interrupt the moment, so your arrival is the perfect distraction.

You excuse yourself and the little troublemaker for crushing the training session to everyone you meet on your path. They assure you it’s fine, you two are always welcome, and today is a special one after all.

A lot of hugs and jokes are exchanged, you take your time to greet all the girls, holding more firmly the honorary daughters Alexia took under her wings ages ago. You missed them.

“My favourite Putellas!”, Claudia shouts as she crushes in your arms.

“You just said that to Rafa”

“He’s the best Putellas, you’re my favourite”

“I’m barely a Putellas anymore”

“I thought you were supposed to arrive tomorrow”, Alexia’s tone is nothing but happy for the change of plan, your boy secured in her arms and quiet for the first time in weeks.

“We were, but it’s your last training session and he wanted to be here”, you move closer, messing your son’s hair as you attempt an awkward half hug.

“Mum said we could surprise you! Are you surprised?”

“I’m surprised, monito”, everyone smiles at Alexia’s open laugh.

Rafael’s arrival completely shifted the atmosphere, somehow making it more emotional but definitely lighter. Jana has been on the verge of tears for days now, hiding behind Patri as the weight of their captain’s retirement comes crushing on them.

It’s the right thing and it’s the right time, but it doesn’t mean it is any easier.

Despite all, despite her family’s fear and her teammates’ concern, Alexia is at peace with the choice. Despite your insecurities, Alexia’s certainty when it comes to important decisions like this one still manages to reassure you.

“Can I go shoot at Cata?”, Rafael asks with his mastered puppy eyes, as you drop your gaze at his stained jeans and the Catalan studies the shoes he’s wearing.

Damn puppy eyes.

“You can go, but make sure an actual adult is there too”

“Is Mapi an actual adult?”

“No, ask Ingrid or Rolfo if they want to join”, you add.

He nods enthusiastically, sprinting away toward the bubble of players who are more than happy to welcome the kid as the training session ends on a high note. You’re sure it will be difficult to interrupt their game later.

It’s easy to notice the two of you are left alone, her teammates giving you space but mostly eager to spend more time with your son.

“He just wants to score”

“We’re working on his selfishness with the ball, I swear”

You smile at the blonde soft defence, still amazed about their bond and how considerate she has been about Rafael’s passion for football. Never pressuring, never patronising, always just as supporting as any other parent could be.

“Thank you for bringing him here, I know you’re supposed to be in London for the week and I really appreciate your support”

“Don’t even mention it, Alexia”, you reassure her, “It’s important for you and It’s important for him, I’m more than happy to support it all”

“How long are you staying?”

“Just a couple of days, but we’ll be at any ceremony, don’t worry”

Alexia mumbles unamused, pretending the presence of her family alone is not enough to make her comfortable and confident to face all the events she’s supposed to attend as a celebration of her career.

“He can stay longer, I’ll be back when it’s my turn again”

“Are you sure?”, she is not really able to hide her excitement.

The new and strange routine is just starting to feel like it’s working in the first place, even if dividing a kid between two countries and two parents who didn’t manage to save their marriage is the most painful thing you both ever experienced.

Neither of you wants to upset Rafael and destabilise him even more, or worse, make him feel unloved.

“I’m sure, he’s the winner”