#‘delete your art. who will notice?’

[novelconcepts]

There’s a voice in my head whispering for me to delete my art. All of it. Even the stuff I’m proud of, the stuff I know is genuinely beautiful. Toss the sketches into the flames, that voice whispers. Feed the bonfire with likenesses that are never quite exact enough. Log onto that website, and orphan every last story. The ones that are beloved after years, and the ones with hits that never seem to rise. Dig through the drive, find all of those half-finished, hopeful works in progress. Flush them down the drain. Take it out back, shoot the thing you love the most. Take it out back and bury it as deep as you can punch the shovel. Delete your art, that voice whispers. Delete your footprint, that voice whispers.

To create is to be seen. To create is to be unequivocally present. To create is to prove you were here, you were here and you could—however briefly—touch a stranger’s soul.

Delete your art, that voice whispers.

I have never heard a voice so vitally in need of being ignored.

[bixels]

This Twitter MLP human redesign drama is a mess, leave me the fuck out of it.

[bumfuzzled-bee]

Frens !!

[canisalbus]

just a quick ask to tell u it makes me super happy seeing the detail u go into when pointing out stuff u like about other people's art of ur ocs :3 it's so rare to see but it's so so motivating!! <3

Thank you! I don't take any interest for my art for granted, and if someone goes through the trouble of drawing my characters for me, I feel like trying to write a proper response is the least I can do. For a visually oriented person, receiving gift/fan art is a huge deal, it means someone considered my goobers worth their time and effort, they've probably been thinking about them more than a little and found them inspiring in a way or another, and I find that terribly flattering. It's extremely fun and interesting to see other people's takes on them. And I've drawn stuff for people as well, I know how nice and rewarding it feels to receive a response that is longer than a word or two. Positive comments like that can linger in people's minds for a long time, at least for me they do.

[persephoneflouwers]

Anons ✨

[hoshifighting]

ask translation: today's rant, girls, i can't get it out of my head that jeonghan is totally that "friend" who sends you a message a second after you remove the @ of your last relationship from your bio. "baby, I saw that you deleted his @, did something happen? Is everything okay? you know you can talk about anything with your hannie, right?" "wow, what an jerk, do you want to come over today, princess?" WARNINGS: smut, fingering, doggy-style, friend!jeonghan, recent break-up

PORTUGUESE VERSION

it’s a matter of seconds. you barely take his @ out of your bio, and the “ding” from your phone already notifies you. guess who? that’s right—jeonghan. and you know exactly what he’s going to say before you even open the message. it’s almost automatic; his timing is so damn perfect that you almost think he’s been stalking your profile, waiting for the smallest slip-up, a little sign.

“hey, baby,” he starts, casual as ever, “saw you took his name out of your bio… something happened?” you read it and can practically see his smug little smile while he’s typing, just loving the drama. “tsk, motherfucker,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re laughing. then he follows up: “you know you can tell your hannie anything, right?”

you roll your eyes, but ignoring him? impossible. the next message doesn’t even let you hesitate.

“god, what an idiot. wanna come over tonight, princess? got that wine you love…”

and there he’s got you. he knows it. he knows that the “heart-to-heart” is just a flimsy excuse, you know what he wants, and that “motherfucker” you muttered? already forgotten. the worst part is you don’t even resist. you’re already texting back before you can think twice:

“give me fifteen. actually have the wine, or i’m out,” you shoot back, adding that little side-eye emoji he always teases you for.

not even five seconds later, he replies: “bet.”

at his place, things start slow—he hands you the glass and goes, “spill it all, babe.” you actually try talking about your ex, maybe add some drama for effect… but he cuts you off, saying he doesn’t wanna hear about that “loser,” and before you know it, the conversation’s become something else entirely. he teases you, like always, and it doesn’t take long before that “friendly” vibe slips into something much more serious.

the wine might as well have gone straight between your legs. minutes later, jeonghan’s there, face buried between your thighs, his mouth working over the wet clit while he keeps his eyes locked on yours. he makes it look like an art form, taking his time, slow, drawing you out more and more—and you, impatient as hell, nearly losing it every time he stops just to throw in some little comment. he lifts his head slightly, lips glistening, with that smug glint in his eye.

“how could he lose you, huh?” he’s not actually asking; he just wants to see you needier. you press your thighs against him, trying to make him shut up and eat you out, but he just laughs, naughty.

“god, you’re so impatient, knew you’d be like this…” he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

you let out a frustrated moan, and he laughs again—he’s clearly feeding off this. “relax, princess, not gonna leave you hanging.” he says it, but he doesn’t speed up. you’re practically begging by the time he finally decides to quit playing games.

he fucks you so good that if you’d known it would always be like this with him, the idea of dating anyone but jeonghan would’ve never even crossed your mind.

he’s got you on all fours on his couch, no mercy, thrusting deep with that thick cock, your cries coming out rough and strained, head tilted back as he holds nothing back, fingers gripping your hair just to make you scream his name louder. the angle leaves your gasps sounding suffered, desperate.

jeonghan, obviously, is eating this up. he notices when you’re already dripping all over his couch, and just to make it even worse, he gathers up that little drip and rubs it right on your sensitive clit, making you melt like jelly, your body going limp on his couch until he eases his grip on your hair so he doesn’t hurt you.

he moans shamelessly, the sound probably even louder than yours, and it catches you off guard. he doesn’t hold back, telling you how long he’s wanted this, how many times he’s dreamed about fucking you exactly like this.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this pretty pussy, baby…” he whispers, and you feel that delicious shiver on the back of your neck. “if you hadn’t picked that dumbass… we could’ve been fucking like this ages ago.”

he thrusts deeper, but moving slower, just so you can feel every inch as he murmurs in your ear. his touch is firm, fingers gliding down to squeeze that sensitive spot, giving it a playful pinch just to watch you shiver, rolling your eyes as you gasp out his name.

“this is what you wanted, princess? gonna appear here on my place, begging for my cock again.. and im going to give you what you want... always.”

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[blkkizzat]

ꨄ︎『Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader』ꨄ︎

Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader

18+ Minors - DNI

Summary: You shouldn't have left your phone out in the open bestie because now Toji just discovered his cute lil gf has a big slutty imagination and that means you're really in for it ❤︎ . CW: daddy/dilf kinks, humiliation, backshots, outdoor sex, toys, voyerism, breeding, overstimulation, lots of mentions of various kinks, light spanking, light spit play, meta concepts WK: 4.2k Black fem reader coded but no descriptors.

A/N: Y’all can blame my forgetting to take my adhd meds and my hangover yesterday for this one. I was laying on my bathroom floor regretting life choices, waiting on McDs Doordash and thinking up outlines for kinktober when this popped into my head. I thought it would be a quick drabble like 1k words to help my writers block with the "Bumpy Ride" Geto fic but lord knows I can't write shit under 3k, who am I foolin? I don’t even have a song inspo for how spontaneous and random this shit was lmfao but I still had to do a graphic for this one regardless (editing those notifications were hell). Edit- I lied the song inspo is: Girls Need Love Remix - Summer Walker ft. Drake.

Enjoy!

Imagine you are dating Toji and he finds out you secretly write Tumblr smut fics on the low. 

He comes over to your apartment one night after one of his ‘jobs’ ran late. He has a key, but is wondering where the hell you are as you usually greet him at the door. Going into your bedroom, he finally hears you in adjoining bathroom shower. 

Toji begins to strip down in order to join you but he barely has his shirt off before he notices your phone blowing up. 

Picking your phone up off the bed he sees 206 notifications from an app called “Tumblr”. 

Toji has no fucking clue what the hell a Tumblr is but his jealously starts to soar. He already made your ass go private on Instagram and deleted your Tiktok dances. He got tired of threatening every loser who tried to slide in your DMs or even leave a comment for that matter. 

Imagine his surprise when he unlocks your phone (of course he had made you give him the password) and instead he finds out his new vanilla-as-fuck girlfriend is actually a kinky cockwhore who loves writing character x reader stories about fictional men plugging any n' every one of her holes. Sometimes it was multiple men simultaneously, with their massive cocks bullying your readers until you had them crying. Not to mention them fucking you absolutely stupid in every scenario imaginable, with a huge daddy kink/love of dilfs to top it all off. 

Y/N clearly has type, Toji thought smugly as he saw some art on your page of these animated dilfs that looked similar to him.

But goddamn, some of this shit even he hasn’t considered doing with you yet. Honestly, he’s been holding himself back for your sake as you had been pretty shy at first. His sweet naive little college girl, yet here you were a filthy closeted slut this entire time. 

Tsk, Y/N been holding out on me, eh?

At this point you were probably a bigger freak than he was, he mused with an arched brow as he scrolled through what you called your ‘masterlist’.

It was nothing but a collection of pure unadulterated filth. 

More than anything though while going through your Tumblr, Toji is rather impressed at how popular you are. He reads your intro post where you deem yourself the ‘Self-proclaimed DILF Smut Queen’ and an evil grin appears on his face.

Toji abandons his plans to join you in the shower and he waits for you on your bed while he links-surfs through more of your so-called fics, drabbles and thirsts.

You made your own little pictures to go along with your dirty stories too? Aw, what a sneaky yet talented little whore he had. 

ꨄ

When you finally exit the shower, wrapped only in a big fluffy white towel and your hair pulled back into a ponytail, you are surprised to see Toji sitting shirtless on your bed. 

Toji had promised to be here hours ago. He never even sent a text saying he would be late and you’ve been bored waiting for him all evening so he could give you some of the attention you've been craving. 

Your body is already warm from the shower and your legs rub together as you are already feeling a bit horny just seeing him bare chested.

Walking toward the bed you are eager to go pounce on his lap. That is, until you see it’s your phone he’s scrolling through again without your permission.

You loudly sigh which made his head snap up to look at you.

You’re so ready to tell him off again and remind him your Insta is still private and you only use TikTok to mindlessly scroll, not post dance videos anymore when gives you a dangerous look.

You stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes grow wide as saucers as you recognize what he’s actually looking at when waves your phone around tauntingly in his hands. 

No.No.No. Not this. Please god, not this!

But your worst fears are confirmed when he starts reading aloud with a huge shit eating grin. 

“You moaned loudly as you threw your head back and bucked against him hungrily. You knew you had to finish quickly unless you wanted his wife to come home to discover the babysitter on top of her husband, making a mess all over his face. His thick tongue lapped into your drenched folds and he spread your puffy pussy lips wider to suck and nip at your swollen clit….” 

Your mouth was agape in shock. You were a deer in headlights.

A million and one thoughts raced through your mind as Toji continued on. He swiped over to the next one, this time a daddy and breeding kink drabble.

“Or how ‘bout… ‘Take it all like the good little slut you are for daddy, Y/N’. ‘N-No daddy, please I can’t cum anymore!’ You babbled as you succumbed to the overstimulation of him ruthlessly breeding your stretched cunt and filling you as you squirted on his dick for the fifth time that night…” 

You could only continue to stand there and gawk at him. This couldn’t actually be happening to you right now.

“Ya really wrote all this nasty shit, Y/N?” Toji teased while still looking at your phone as he found more of your filthy smut to read aloud to you despite the horrified expression on your face.

You of course had written all that ‘nasty shit’ but most of it was before you started dating him, breaking a long dry spell.

You really weren’t one to run the streets and sleep around but you had some kinky ass fantasies and you not getting any action had you needing to express them somehow.

It’s not like you didn’t eventually plan to open up and share a few of your kinks with Toji down the line. But this was a relatively new relationship and Toji was still a bit intimidating to you. Even though Toji treated you with way more care and concern than he did anyone else you’ve seen him interact with, you still had an insecure fear that he would reject you for a few of your kinks. 

Your last boyfriend had called you a weirdo for wanting to call him daddy in bed, so you resolved then to no longer share that part of you.

Hell, not even your IRL friends knew what you got up to. Only the Tumblr followers and moots, who you all shared peaceful anonymity with, were familiar with you and your writing.

Fuck. You had finally found the perfect DILF daddy too, you didn't want to scare him away. 

You cursed yourself for even opening Tumblr earlier. You did so out of restlessness waiting on his ass to come over. You just were going to read a few fics before you realized you had a story in your drafts you never posted that just needed to be proofread.

Wanting to kill time you decided to edit and post it on a whim, not knowing the mess it would be getting you into now. 

“Earth to, Y/N.” Toji snapped his fingers, interrupting your thoughts.

"Where did my perverted baby’s little mind go off to now, huh? So obsessed with being ruined by imaginary cocks you can’t even respond to your own daddy.”

You could have combusted on the spot as you were sure there was more steam coming off you from embarrassment than from the hot shower you had just taken. 

But wait– wtf, your frazzled mind just connected the fact Toji had referred to himself as your daddy. 

Those words sinking in made your entire body tingle. Your pulse quickened as you chewed your bottom lip and fidgeted with the edge of your towel.

Was he also into this?

The fact was Toji was very into this and you were about to find out just how much he was.

Enjoying your reactions fully, Toji stood up and made his way toward you with a crazed look on his face.

“You’ve written 96 pieces of filth Y/N…”

He inched closer and you instinctively moved back. Every fiber of your body sensing the danger in front of you. You wondered if this is how the targets of his ‘jobs’ felt when he approached them. Toji never lied to you about what he did for work but you never felt like you were his prey, until now.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, have you nothing to say for y’erself, princess?” 

“I-I-I-”, you stumble over your own words. This was all way too much, way too fast, for you to process in order to say anything coherent back to him.

“I-I-I-” Toji mocked your pathetic tone, an evil grin back on his face. 

“Lost your words, Y/N?”

Your body instinctively keeps moving back to keep distance between the two of you as he continues to advance on you.

“But you have so many words to say here, isn’t that right slut?”

Toji toyed with your phone in his hand, spinning it around.

“Slut. That’s what you liked to be called in these stories, eh? The dirty slutty whore with a sloppy cunt just ready to slime all over her daddy’s cock, yeah?”

You gulped as your back hit the glass of your bedroom balcony door with a ‘thud’. You had no more room to run while Toji closes in on you.

He pressed both of his massive hands against the glass as they framed your head, his body hovering over you. You couldn’t help but notice how much bigger than you he was as his frame enveloped you and blocked out the rest of the room. You were trapped.

Too nervous to look him in the eyes, you settled for his chest and Toji’s muscles flexed tantalizingly under your gaze. You lost yourself for a moment as the familiar scent of his heady masculine musk invaded your senses.

Your eyes roamed lower and lower before resting on the bulge beneath his sweats and you softly pant. 

“You’re staring at my dick like you want me to stuff that pretty little throat cunny of yours full. You aren’t making good use of your mouth right now anyway Y/N, might as well see how much of me it can fit.”

You looked away from him completely but that only ignites Toji's flames more.

“Look me in the eyes little girl...” Toji’s hand roughly grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks together as he brought his face closer to yours.

“This shy act won’t cut it anymore, slut.”

His intensity was overwhelming you. Various emotions threaten to bubble to the surface as you squirm in his grasp and your eyes become glossy with tears.

“You didn’t think you finally had a man who would be into this wild ass shit, now did you?”

You wanted to question him further but you felt your gravity shift as the balcony door whipped open behind you. Toji ripped off the towel covering you as you practically tumbled backwards onto the small landing buttass naked.

The crisp fall night air hits your dampened skin giving you goosebumps. You shiver and immediately drop down in a crouch to cover yourself. 

“T-Toji!! Are you insane?!” You gasped at him in a hushed tone, your silence finally broken. 

Promptly, you scan the seemingly deserted neighborhood streets through the railing for any sign of movement or signal that someone else was outside.

To your relief there was no one in sight.

Thankfully this was a relatively quiet neighborhood and no one was ever really out at this time of night. Nevertheless the shock of it all was sending your nerves into overdrive.

“Toji my ass bitch. It’s daddy to you moving forward–,” he roared jerking you up off the ground, “–and we are going to do every single fucking thing your slutty mind has ever fucking written starting NOW.” 

Your eyes darted as around him if you wanted to run back inside but there was no getting past his brutish build as he quickly slammed the door shut, shaking the frame.

Frankly, you didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified as you had written some depraved ass shit over the past year in the midst of your cockdrought. Some of it you had never even seriously thought of actually doing IRL. 

“Let’s start right ‘ere, eh? Did you think I wouldn’t notice the description of the place in your little balcony story matched your own?” 

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as you recalled what you wrote in that particular smut fic.

ꨄ 

“A-AH! N-NOOO TOJI, W-WAIIIIIIIT!” You whined through gritted teeth. 

You tried (and failed) not to release any noises from the unrelenting backshots Toji was currently giving you as he folded you over the balcony railing. The tips of your toes barely rested on the cold floor as your ass bounced back into him and had your clit throbbing when his heavy balls smacked against the sensitive nub.

You had previously only fantasized about Toji being this rough with you, but now that it was actually happening for real you couldn’t think straight. Your lungs burned from sucking in the frosty night air and your cunt pulsed from his thick girth stretching you open. 

Shockwaves ran along your body with every cruel thrust of his hips. The force of it reduced your legs to jelly and you were sure you would have collapsed had he not had you suspended like you were, between him and the railing. 

Toji seemed both unfazed by the cold and your cries for mercy as he shushed you with a harsh spank. He enjoyed the way your fat ass rippled under his heavy hand in the moonlight so much he gave you a few more for good measure.

Your tits violently swayed over the edge as one of your hands grasped the railing for stability and the other held your phone in front of you. Toji was making you dictate your story for him as he reenacted the play by play assault on your cunt.  

The bright screen you held was near blinding to your teary eyes. You mentally cringed as you knew it would act as a shiny beacon to view your activities if anyone walked by the small apartment complex or hell, even stepped out on their balcony. 

“T-Toj- Daddy, w-what ‘bout– neigh-h-b-bor-s?”

You managed to croak out over the sloshing of your cunt and slapping sounds of flesh that echoed into the atmosphere everytime he rammed into you. You couldn’t bear to look around to see if any of your neighbors had started to investigate.

“Pshhh, Fuck your neighbors Y/N! They clearly don’t have a cockcrazed baby to please that writes dirty little stories about imaginary men like I do.”

If you didn’t know better you would think he was actually jealous of the DILFs in your stories too from the way he was sadistically fucking into you. 

His thrusts caused your icy tears to run down your face and sent your tits bouncing into the wind. Your cold and neglected nipples hardened in the chill to the point of delicious pain.

“B-but- it's too c-cold out D-Daddy!”

“Mmn, yet your pussy feels warm enough, Y/N. Too hot even. This is for your benefit, you know–,” Toji stated matter-of-factly while he increases the speed his pounding into you, “–So you remember you have your own Daddy who will fuck you anyway you want, anytime you want…just, fuck, tell Daddy what his slutty baby needs.”

The way his hips are driving into your core knocks the wind out of you. Toji tightens the already brutal grip on your hips which assists him in pressing deeper into your cunt. The movement has you almost slipping. You nearly drop your phone off the balcony when your toes stepped in the growing pool of shared juices flowing down your legs and collecting at your feet.

“Hold that shit tight for daddy baby, got it? You drop it and we gotta start over, yeah? I’ll make you walk downstairs ass naked just like this to get it too,” Toji breathed out huskily. 

You realize you’ve never heard him sound this needy before now.

“What’s next, in y’er lil’ story huh?… Speak up so I can hear it over this messy cunt.” 

There was an edge of desperation for you clear in his tone. Although to your dismay it causes your body to gush around him harder meaning you would have to speak up even louder as your pussy squelches grew more vulgar in volume. 

You nearly shouted out the next part groaning and mixing in incoherent babbles throughout the smut filled paragraph as Toji doesn't slow to help you. If anything Toji picks up speed and grows even harder inside of you as he's encouraged by his baby's filthy words.

“...H-he- lifts your leg, r-resting your knee on the edge of the bal-c-cony. T-T-The angle allows h-him, fuck, deeper access to your c-cunt. Ah-h-h-a clear view of his c-cock badgering your core f’er a-anyone who happens to p-pass belowwww-ohmygod. Y-you seeeeee s-stars as he callously s-slams into your c-cervix, shitshitshit, n-nearly fa-fa-fucking you off the balcony if not for his s-strong hold on youuuu–ah. Y-you violently t-tremble as you c-cum s-screamiiiiing, not fuckdaddyfuckkkk, caring if your n-neighbors could s-see or h-hear you any l-longer.”

“HA! Is that so–” Toji lifts your leg just like you wrote in your fic, “–guess I am gonna to have to keep fucking this tight cunt until you no longer give a fuck about anything else but this dick, eh?”

You hear what sounds like a door slide open near you and you begin to whine about your neighbors again before Toji jerks your head back by your ponytail to whisper in your ear. 

“I wouldn’t worry that nasty, pretty little head of yours about these neighbors babydoll…” 

The new angle allows Toji to bury himself deeper into you just like you told in your story and his tip hits your cervix so hard you think he might actually penetrate. 

“...if I were you Y/N... I would think about how daddy’s needy lil whore is gonna make it through an entire day of classes tomorrow with clamps on your nipples and a remote control vibrator up your cunt.”

He licked the side of your face and spit in your mouth before carelessly pushing your head back. You loudly moaned as his bruising grip returned to your meaty hips as his nonstop aggressive assault on your cunt proceeds.

You feel yourself getting close, your eyes rolled back into your head and drool seeped down the corners of your mouth. You cursed your weakness for this shit as you felt yourself give into the pleasure. You surprise even yourself as you never actually thought this kinda sex could be so fucking good you wouldn’t care about shit else for real. 

“Goddamn mamas, squeezing me so hard–” Toji’s hips snapped into you with every syllable, his voice becoming more animalistic, “–you want me to fill this pussy up? Mmm, I fucking know you do the way she’s milking me. Fuck, might even put a baby in you, give ‘gumi a sibling. We won’t be able to do some of that kinky shit you wrote unless I knock a baby up in this cunt, ya know.”

Of course, Toji being the sexy ass DILF straight out of your dreams would love breeding kinks too.

His ramblings cause you to tighten and clench around him even more. You’ve wanted to beg for him like this since you first started dating. Just thinking of the words spilling out of your mouth nearly pushed you over the edge.

You were so close to release.

“I-Inside me D-Daddy pleasepleaseplease!,” you slobbered out, struggling to make sentences from all the pleasure within you.

“F-fill me– fill me D-Daddy, knock this tight little cunt up, w-want it– want it– w-want it–!!!”

Your voice caught in your throat and you nearly choked once you felt your peak hit. Your pussy sent tremors around his dick as you creamed around him. You can't think of anything else but him inside of you.

You just came but Toji allowed you no rest. He still pummeled inside you as he chased his own high and slurred vulgar curses of praise for his pretty lil’ whore's dirty mind, while planning the next debaucherous smut for you both to reenact.

“Ya think it's too late now f’er prime next day delivery for those toys, baby? Fuck, look that up while y’er still holding that phone.”

You didn’t even realize you still had your phone in your hand but were just thankful you didn’t drop yet. You didn't think it would survive the fall.

Groaning you tried to rally the strength to even lift the phone to face unlock when you locked eyes with someone below. You instantly recognized the person as the elderly woman with the flower garden from down the street.

The old lady had always been very kind to you, making pleasant conversation, offering you fresh flowers for your kitchen and praising you for how reminded her of her own sweet young daughter at your age. 

Unfortunately for you both, she was casually walking her two mini poodles when her eyes were affronted with you practically hanging off the balcony. A blissed out expression plastered across your face while Toji held you, battering your slick pussy full of his thick cock.

The old woman’s eyes widened in terror as if she actually witnessed a crime scene as she panicked, yanking her two dogs away swiftly back in the direction of her home. You knew you would have to take the long way home from now on.

Nevertheless Toji, who was none the wiser and wouldn’t give a single fuck regardless, merely continued planning out your next smut fic enactment.

“Nah fuck it, we’re going to the library tomorrow. See how many pages you can read of that dull ass biology book while y’er warming my cock... Tch, or should we do the one where y’er fucking the coach in the men’s locker room, whacha think baby?”

"Hmmmnmmrgh", you could only moan in reply.

You were already near hyperventilating from your own climax, the shame of now having to avoid your neighbor for life and Toji’s fiery body creating a storm of friction clashing with the freezing temperatures.

But your senses were now wholly overloaded once you felt him reach down to pinch and rub at your clit. 

“Cum again with Daddy baby, shit, can ya do that f’er me?” Toji sounded like he was close and he slapped your clit even harder causing you to scream out.

Cockdrunk and overstimulated you could no longer communicate as your entire body felt like it was an extension of your pussy. The thick fluids flowing out of your body increased the sizable puddle already at your feet. You utterly surrendered to the feeling and your body wrecked with pleasure electrifying you. 

You almost blackout as you feel his cock bust hot seed into your tummy melting your insides and causing you to cum all over again.

"Fuck, that’s it, take it all. Can't wait to see this belly and these tits full mama."

The aftershock of your orgasm feels near endless as Toji continues to fuck thick ropes of his cum into you. 

Losing track of time you weren’t sure how long it was before Toji finally pulled out and took you off the railing. Holding on to you so you can balance and turning you to face him he places you down on your unsteady feet. You immediately bury your head into his chest as his heat envelops your cold skin. Your breathing finally starts to calm in his embrace. 

“So good f’er daddy babygirl,” he murmurs into your hair, savoring your scent.

“Warm bath, yeah?”

“Sure, but you gotta carry me daddy.”

You yawned while Toji’s already lifting you princess style in his strong arms. You were exposed still in the night but at the same time you have never felt safer. 

You curl further into his warmth as he kisses your forehead and finally brings you back inside.

Once inside the bathroom Toji sets you down on the edge of the tub while the water runs and he leaves to grab some fresh towels.

You can’t help but feel euphoric as you smiled to yourself. You are too giddy!

You finally have the DILF daddy you always wanted and could be open about your kinks without any judgment. 

However your mood shifts when Toji returns. You give him an incredulous look as you see your pink waterproof vibrator in his hands. 

Toji turns it on and saunters over to you, his scar twisted into a devilish smirk.

“95 more fuckfics to go ma’, we don’t have time to waste…”

Fucking hell, you had entirely forgotten about the overstimulation in the bath drabble. 

You quiver in both anticipation and distress as you aren’t sure how your completely spent and nearly frozen body is gonna be able to cum four more times tonight. 

Could there ever be too much of a good thing?

You weren't sure what those limits were exactly.

“Ya know, Y/N–," Toji started slyly, interrupting your thought.

”If I hit up Shiu and you asked him nicely with that pretty lil' mouth, I’m positive he would be down for some double daddy Eiffel Tower action.”

However from the feral grin on Toji’s face he appeared determined to test those limits with you.

You could thank your Tumblr smut fics for that. 

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴ���ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: I honestly have to say I am a bit impressed with myself as I’ve never finished a story in one day before ever (although it took most of today to proofread and I still think there might be errors soz). Hopefully this is a good sign for powering through those Kinktober fics once classes start up again this Weds. Also If there is any interest possibly a PT 2 after Kinktober featuring a threesome with Shiu at his office.

Edit: errors/grammar fixed as of 9/26.

This one goes out to all of us dilf smut queens who simp Toji ❤︎

Please reblog to have DILF Daddy Toji dick you down, but likes and comments are always appreciated just the same!

[miguelhugger2099]

HIII tehehe

so imagine this, miggy and wifey reader coming home from a date and reader is just giggling as she remembers him being kind to all the kids who came up to him wanting to play with him. and reader is just like 'what if i just gave him one instead'

miggy notices his wifey reader giggling to himself, mini fluff moment happens. then reader exposes herself and then

~smut~

Baby Maker

long overdue and was very much in the accidentally deleted category like everything in this ask was written it just needed an ending before POOF gone. so, a thousand apologies i could not say sorry enough nonie. i tried to write down everything i remembered so i could get it out as soon as possible. as always, if you're not satisfied, this ask can be rewritten for a third time Art: feminine.999 on instagram

After a long and tiring winter, Miguel was eager to take you out for a picnic date in the warm sun again. It was always a sweet reminder of your time as young lovers and just having the simplicity of being in each others presence along with some food. So whenever the time was right and the temperature was warm enough, Miguel would plan and whisk you away to the park at the same hill you two have decided would be your spot. "Miguel just hand me something." You smile at him and stick your hands out, the picnic blanket hanging lightly on your forearm. Miguel carries both the cooler and basket as well as your purse on his shoulder. He had only asked you to fold the blanket but you wanted to help so you held onto it instead while he insisted he had everything else. "Ah-ah." He says, shaking his head. "Tengo todo, mama. I'm okay." Obviously, he was. He could carry several more things if he wanted to but you felt really bad watching him. "Give me the keys then. I'll drive." You cross your arms. In truth, he didn't want you to drive- he's a little traditional when it comes to handling things on his own while you rested freely from responsibilities. But, he sighed and instead of protesting, he nodded. "Keys are in my back pocket." He pouts dejectedly. You found it cute and rolled your eyes. You reached around him to grab the keys from his pocket, giving a teasing squeeze to his ass which he jumped at. "Oye." He says with a playful warning tone, squinting his eyes down at you. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, as well as a spark in his eyes. "C'mon." You shrug and skip in front of him, pretending to be innocent. At the car, Miguel was finishing up putting everything in the trunk, massaging the palms of his hands to ease the strain of holding onto the handles of the cooler and basket. You place the blanket over everything, feeling Miguel kiss your temple and his hand sneaking around your waist. "Good?" You ask him, looking up and cupping his cheeks. Miguel leans into you, his hands on your hips to keep him steady. "Mhm." He hums as he looks back down at you. Miguel kisses your forehead then each of your cheeks before finishing it off with a long smooch to your lips. "Let's go home." He murmurs.

Before you could move, Miguel looks down after feeling something tap the side of his leg. A soccer ball rolled a bit before he skillfully rolled it under his foot and kicked it into the air so it landed in his hand. “Whoa!” A chorus of young high-pitched voices shouted in unison. A group of kids huddled by you two, marveling at Miguel. “How did you do that?” One boy gasps, his eyes lighting up in admiration. Miguel chuckles nervously, bashful of the attention of ten-year olds. “Ah–it’s a little tricky.” He hands the ball to a little girl and she waves it high above her head. “Can you show me?” She squeals and Miguel blinks, looking back at you. You covered your mouth to hide your giggles and smile. “Go.” You tilt your head at the group of kiddies and Miguel stumbles over his words but the kids already took your approval and began tugging on Miguel’s arm back to the grassy fields to play.

As you got home, you couldn’t bring down the smile on your face, cheeks hurting with how long you’ve grinned to yourself. You let out a couple of giggles remembering how the children flocked to him and how Miguel looked carrying two grown kids in his arms when his little team scored a goal. Not only had you felt warmth in your cheeks but in other places as well. “Why do you look like that?” Miguel asks after placing the bags down near the door. He’d organize things later. “Like what?” Miguel brings his hand to the side of his face and bunches his shoulders up, looking up at the ceiling with a mockingly dreamy sigh. “Like this!” You punch his shoulder and Miguel laughs, bringing his arms around you from behind and leaves little apology kisses along your neck. “I did not look like that.” You defend yourself. “Mmm, you did. You always look like that anyway. At least when it comes to me.” He mumbles against your ear, his breath tickling your senses and you squeal to move away from him but he just holds you closer. “So what is it this time? Was I extra good-looking today? Did I sweep my favorite girl, my wife, off her feet?” Miguel presses his lips on your cheek with a loud smooch. He couldn’t help teasing you a bit. “No, it was different!”

“Hmm, different?” “The kids at the park.” You feel Miguel pause and he lifts his head up and tilts it to the side after turning you around. “What about the kids at the park?” He asks, confusion swirling in his eyes. “You looked…good with them.” He huffs a quick laugh. “Okay?” “And I was thinking, y’know,” You giggle at the thought of Miguel picking you up, filling you up, carrying a baby–making him a father. He wanted to pick your brain. “What?” He squints down at you. “What if we had a baby?” Miguel’s eyes widened, blinking in surprise. “H-huh?” His voice went up an octave as his cheeks had gotten a little redder. You felt his hands tense around your hips and you secure your arms around his neck. “What if..I just gave you a baby?” You repeat in a hushed whisper. “With your help, of course.” You giggled and your flirting sent shivers down his spine. Subconsciously, Miguel’s eyes turn downwards to your stomach–imagining it swollen and growing with each passing day with just a few pumps of his cum. His eyes dilate and he feels the blood in his body rush straight down to his groin. “O-oh, God…” He groans, his breathing already getting heavy. “Are you sure? You want a baby? You want my baby?” He whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. You could feel his hands gripping your sundress. It fell just above your knees so Miguel was already sliding his hand up under it to feel the skin of your thigh, skin still a little warm from being in the sun. “Mhm, yes, please.” You whine, feeling the rush of arousal drench into your panties from hearing Miguel hold onto his last remaining self-restraint before he fucks you silly. At your plea, Miguel wraps his arms around you and pulls you up towards him to kiss you deeply. His lips devour yours, tongue slipping past your defenses to tangle in a dance with your own tongue. One hand pushes your head closer while his other hand runs down to grip the plump fat of your ass through the fabric of your dress. Tapping it twice, he signals you to jump in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and he hurriedly enters the bedroom. Miguel falls on top of you, bodies bouncing on the mattress but it does nothing to stop Miguel’s desire for you.

Miguel separates from your lips, dragging his wet mouth down to your jawline and neck while his hands bunch up your dress at your waist. He brings a hand up to pull down the top half of your dress and begins to leave small love bites across your breasts before licking your nipple into his mouth. With your head rolled back, your fingers run through his hair, hips attempting to grind up for some friction but with his weight on top of you–you’re helpless. “Want me to make you a mama, huh?” He growls huskily, lifting his head up and using his fingers to flick and tweak your nipples so he could watch you screw your eyes shut and your mouth parted open as you moan his name into the air. “Want me to make you all pretty and swollen with my cum, hm? Fuck…” “Oh, God–Miggy..!” Your hands at his shoulders, arching your back off the bed and writhing underneath him in a desperate attempt to make him focus on your wet pussy. Miguel can’t help but play with your tits, groping them in his hands and squishing them. He pulls your dress further down, tracing your curves and worshiping them to engrave it in his memory. Your dress now on the floor, you lay bare with just your panties. Miguel presses down on the soaking patch between your legs and you shiver. “No me jodas, Miguel. Just fuck me.” You groan and buck your hips to grind on his fingers but he chuckles and pulls away. “Dale paciencia, mi amor.” He says even though he feels the same, his cock straining against his jeans and leaving a wet spot in his boxers from dripping precum. Miguel leans back down to kiss you, hands fumbling with the zipper and he hastily shoves his boxers and pants down his legs. Deciding he was also impatient, Miguel rips your underwear apart and he bites down hard on his lips to stop him from moaning loudly at the sight of your glistening folds. Mind cluttered with lust, you don’t even notice the tear but you do feel his hard cock rubbing between your puffy pussy lips. He sighs while he collects your slick onto his shaft, his leaking tip mixing with your juices. “Mmm, fuck yes…” He shudders, thighs flexing as his muscles tensed up. Goosebumps litter his skin and he looks down at your body. Sprawled nude on the mattress while you’re already looking fucked out of your mind when he’s barely put the tip in. His cockhead catches inside and he teasingly enters. His hand places itself on your stomach, pupils blown wide open.

“Qué pasa, mi amor? Te sientes bien? Ay, que linda eres...” He purrs as he pushes inside you. “Feel me, mama.” Each inch is slow and he makes you feel the growing stretch of his cock, veins pulsing against your throbbing walls–your cunt convulses around him to suck him deeper inside your warmth. “Mine, mine, mine. So pretty, you’ll look gorgeous when I fuck a baby into this tight pussy.” Miguel whispers against your neck. His cock twitches when you claw at his back, choking out your moans as your face flushes with a warm blush. He could feel his balls aching but he held back as best as he could. His palm feels his cock from inside you, poking through your stomach and his eyes roll back. Fuck, he’s deep. “Tell me you want it. Dímelo otra vez.” He moans, slowly rocking his hips in and out of you. Your mouth had been drooling since he teased your entrance with his cock, mind blank with nothing but the desire to be bred by your husband. With a weak and broken whimper, you begged. “Wan’ it,” You squirmed. “Breed me.” Miguel’s forehead landed on your shoulder, his body hunched over as his hand went to pull your thigh on his hip and slammed into you. You screamed and held onto him before he started pounding ruthlessly into you. You could’ve flown off the bed with just how fast and hard Miguel decided to pace at. He wraps his hands to your ass and pulls your bottom half up for easier access, dragging your wet folds up and down his cock. He pants, breathing shakily as his arms tense up–veins protruding and running down all the way to his hands. Miguel then lets go, grabbing both your legs and pushes them to your chest. He folds you in half, displaying your cunt to his eyes as his main priority. He bites his lip, grunting with every pounding he gives you. His knees dig into the mattress to anchor himself as he jackhammers his twitching cock into your warm wetness. The arousal gushing out of you and rolling down between your asscheeks and onto the bed. “You’ll be such a good mama.” He moans, curling his hips so his cock arches right into your sweet spot. Your cunt squeezes around him tightly, head thrown back while your nails rake his back in streaks of red, imprinting yourself on him. You’re a squealing mess, tears in your eyes and you could barely feel your legs anymore. Face morphed with pure ecstasy as you feel each drag of his cock empty and refill you over and over again. His bulbous tip nudges against your cervix and twitches against your velvety walls and your moans turn shamelessly pornographic-like. Meanwhile Miguel gets himself off to the thought of you creaming on his cock, his balls unleashing his cum straight into your womb and getting you pregnant. He huffs, ears ringing as his mind only focuses on breeding you. He thinks to himself that once isn’t enough. Just one measly pump of his seed won’t be enough to bear you with his child. He’d have to do it more than once. He had to see his thick load seeping out of your puffy pussy folds. He wanted to see you filled to the brim, pumped full to make sure you’ll carry. He wanted to see your belly grow, creating a being that was the perfect combination of you and him.

His mind spurs him on, mouth open as he spews his own moans and  praising your tight cunt at how well it takes him. He’s pussy drunk, hips smacking and his balls slapping against you, his body pressing your legs tighter against yourself and ravaging himself into you with heavy thrusts. He grits his teeth when you scream and clench around him, pussy fluttering as you feel the release of an orgasm shoot through your body. Your legs quiver as Miguel holds onto you, eyes rolling back and drool escaping off the side of your mouth. Your cum drips into a puddled mess below you and Miguel’s orgasm follows right after you, drilling his cock until he’s balls deep. His cock twitches with each spurt of warm cum shooting out his tip, plugging into your womb. You take deep breaths but it seems impossible when Miguel keeps your legs up. His head is hung while he waits until your cunt milks every last drop of his seed. You weakly reach up and cup his cheek to catch his attention. He meets your gaze and you give a tired smile and pull him down for a kiss. Miguel eases your legs down and kisses you back. His hands rubs comfortingly around the dip of your waist. For a moment you feel at peace, a bliss of entering a new era with him. The peace lasts for just a moment. Miguel leaves your lips and twirls your body on your stomach, lifting your bottom half up so your ass hangs in the air. In the process, his dick leaves your warmth and it leaves you feeling empty. You gasp and grip onto the sheets, head turning to try and see Miguel. “‘M not done.” He mumbles. “You wanted me to breed you so I’ll fuckin’ breed you.” His words are slurred but his mind is made up. He angles his cock to your wet cunt again, smearing the combined arousal around with his tip as if painting on a canvas. Instinctively, you moan and wiggle your hips back, pussy swelling up with desire again. Miguel smirks and pushes back inside and the stretch is familiar and comforting. Shuddering, your pussy welcomes him back by squeezing tightly, sucking him in, and he hisses. “Uyy, fuck…” He sighs. He starts off slow, bumping you forward with easy and short thrusts, feeling himself slowly grow hard again inside you. Your eyes flutter close, face smushed into the pillow and drooling on the case of it as your body lurches forward. Miguel increases his speed, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip to bring your ass back onto his cock. His balls smack your clit for added stimulation and it makes you jump from the electric pleasure zipping straight to your core. “Oh my God! Miguel!” You whine, heat flushing on your cheeks, Miguel’s dick reaching different places in a different position. The pain of sensitivity washes away, your pussy now craving the hot sticky liquid of your husband. Miguel looms over you, bending one leg to keep him steady as he keeps drilling deeper into you. His lips leave wet and sloppy kisses to your shoulder, panting and sharing warm breaths with you while your bodies buck up against one another.

“That feel good, mama? Hm?” He moans, burying himself in your neck while his hips snap up against yours, ass slapping and rippling with each thrust.

“Yes! Yes! Mhm!” Your voice turns high pitched, eyes glassy and unfocused while being bred like a bitch in heat. Still, you took pride in it to be the one to carry his child, to have him use your hole as his cumdump and take him however many times as long as you keep feeling like this. You’d gladly take him over and over again.

“You’ll give me another baby after this one, right mama?” He hums, tongue licking your neck and nipping at your skin. “Say you will, querida. Say you’ll let me put a baby in you again–we’ll have a big family.” He whines, humping your ass in quick strokes. “Say it, say it, say it, please, please.”

Miguel could feel himself getting closer. He could feel you getting close too with the familiar pulse and clench of your walls around his throbbing cock. His balls are wet with your slick, your wetness never ending.

“Yes! I will! Promise! Just–please!” Your words are barely audible with your face pushed into the pillow but Miguel is satisfied with your cockdrunk state. His cock engorges with the thought of a big family, you giving him as many kids as he wants and him watching it all happen once he spills as much as he wants in your willing cunt.

His hips go out of rhythm, he chases his high of impregnating you for a second time and his cock twitches violently before squirting ropes of cum to paint your walls white. He doesn’t stop pumping, wanting to feel you cream on his cock so badly even when the overstimulation makes him whimper.

With a cry of his name, your pussy pulses around him and you feel his previous load drip out of you to make space for his new one. The liquid trickles down your thighs and your shake as the orgasm is ripped out of you. When you stiffen, Miguel drags his cock out from you and flips you on your back again.

Barely giving you time to recover, Miguel lifts you up from the bed and your back makes contact with the cool wall. He holds you securely under your ass and you automatically wrap your legs around his waist once more. Your arms are around his neck, hands in his hair and Miguel captures your lips in a messy kiss. His hips rut into you to slide his dick back inside which resounds out in rapid smacks of skin on skin contact.

You’re bouncing on his dick, hair tangled and becoming staticy from your head rubbing on the wall. His thrusts slow to a stop as he focuses on making out with you, tongue dancing with yours and exploring your mouth with a low moan of pleasure.

Teeth clack against each other and you roll your pelvis to regain the friction. Pussy clenches around him desperately and Miguel lets out a guttural groan, separating from your lips to bite your chest. Your back lifts off the wall and you push your tits to his mouth, Miguel eagerly sucking your nipples and switching between left and right.

He angles up and up, feeling your walls slide on him like some silicon dildo. He gropes your ass in his palms, kneading and spreading them apart while your slick sounds out with a sloppy, dirty and wet mess. Miguel shoves you harder against the wall, pounding your body in rhythmic thrusts that bang loud enough for a passerby to hear. His back is covered with your nails marks.

You’re screaming, you’re so fucking sensitive but it’s just so hot how he just keeps going. There’s a fire that’s ignited in you–some sick form of pleasure that you get off on your husband pumping you full of semen. It gave you pleasure just how badly he wanted this–wanted you. You can’t help but squeeze around him, pussy unable to handle the bundle of overstimulated nerves so it spasms.

Jaw slacked and spit dribbling down your chin with your tongue lolled out your mouth–you can barely form a thought when Miguel’s fucking them out of you. You didn’t expect for Miguel to jump at the chance at having a baby but right now, it felt so worth it. His teeth bites at your nipple, tongue rolling around the bud and devouring it like you were the sweetest thing he’s tasted.

“Miguell…! I’m so–mmph!–fuck, I’m close!” You pull on his strands of hair and he lets go of your nipple. Miguel leaves his forehead on your chest, breath fanning your skin while he bucks into you. He cums first, his essence spilling out and dribbling back down on his cock and he grunts with annoyance. His annoyance doesn’t last long when you climax just a few seconds after with a squeal. You ankles lock tightly around his waist to push him to the hilt to keep the rest of his cum–old and new–plugged inside. Miguel shudders and moves you off the wall and back to the edge of the bed.

Miguel lays you down on the mattress with a huff of exhaustion, becoming sleepy after three orgasms. Still, he turns you on your side, lifting your leg up so he could slide in his cock between your twitching and sensitive folds.

You strangle out a whine, eyes blinking in a dazed haze. You reach around you to grip his hair and plead for mercy. You don’t know how you even lasted this long.

“Thought you wanted a baby. I’m making sure we’re having that baby.” He mumbles against your neck, humming when he sheathes inside you again. Your cunt spasms, fluttering and pulsating from overstimulation. However, Miguel is gentle this time.

He grinds behind you in easy thrusts. You feel your heart stutter in your chest, turning your head around with your mouth slightly parted, whining out your moans. Miguel kisses you, his hand gripping your thigh tightly to uphold it while his cock slips in and out of you. The evidence of his essence drips out of you and leaves a shiny coat and the milky white circle at the base of his shaft prominent from previous orgasms.

You weakly buck your ass back to go in time with his thrusting. You break from the kiss, string of spit connecting on your wet lips before you rest your head back on the pillow, heart thumping wildly. Miguel goes back to kissing your neck and shoulders.

“Asi es, mami,” He whispers huskily. “One more. Can you do that for me? Jus’ one more.” His hips roll in circles and his hand goes underneath you to reach around to your front, fingers finding your clit. He rolls it between his fingers and circles around it softly with just the right amount of pressure that he knows you like. Your hips stutter and feel another climax coming, but this time a little weaker than the rest.

“Mig…Miggy…” You whine and he shushes you gently. His fingers leave your clit and he rests his hand on your stomach, thumb rubbing up and down the small pudge of tummy where his baby will grow inside you.

“I know, mi reina, I know. I love you so much. I love you. I love you so damn much.” He whispers sweetly, Miguel kissing behind your ear. His words of affection make you whimper.

“I love you too.”

Miguel winds up cumming inside you for the final time, emptying out all of his energy and hugging you tight to his chest while you squeal and cum right after him. He keeps you close, putting your leg down and curling his arms around your waist to spoon you.

Your breathing slowly evens out, exhaustion catching up to you. Miguel pulls out, each drag shocking your nerves until he leaves with a wet plop, strings of cum connecting you both together until it breaks. He turns you around to face him and brings your head against his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage and you weakly hug him back. You feel full just like he told you he would do to you.

You can’t help but feel content, excitement blooming in your chest for the next chapter in your life with your husband. He's warm.

“We’re gonna be parents.” You whisper softly. Miguel’s lips kiss your hair and he lifts your face up to him. He continues to pepper your cheeks and forehead with kisses.

“We’re gonna be parents.” He echos. “Thank you.”

You couldn’t ask for a better man to start a family with.

A/N: me when i enforce my breeding kink miguel agenda

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[describe-things]

This post is made with speech to text because my hand hurts from typing so much today. Please forgive any typos or speech to text swapping similar sounding words.

If you would like to start writing your own image descriptions, feel free to ask any questions.

The main things to keep in mind is that they should begin with some variation of image description start or ID, and end with some variation of image description and, and ID or something like that. This distinguish the image description from the caption or anything else.

Image descriptions should not be written in italics, bold, all caps, or any colors. If text in the image is in all caps, write it in regular case, and simply note before or after it that it's in all caps.

Image descriptions should describe all images in the post, without skipping any. This includes images that are nothing but text.

Plain text image descriptions in the body of the post are more accessible than alt text alone, because many people who need image descriptions cannot use alt text, and Tumblr is known for its glitches, so the accessibility of the alt text all by itself varies widely over time.

It is more accessible to have the image descriptions indented than not, because this helps to visually separate the image description from the caption. Having brackets or parentheses at the end is also helpful for this. This allows people to easily distinguish between the caption and the image description if they need to.

If you are an artist, writing image descriptions for your art will give you full control over the image description, and will allow you to correctly identify details that others might miss. This gives you the opportunity to show which parts of your art hold meaning to you and are important to notice.

If you are describing real people who are unknown to you, unless it is specified within the post or you are already aware, please do not assign any gendered terms to them, or any " male presenting or female presenting" terms like that. This is completely unnecessary and leads to misgendering. It is best to simply describe visible facts about the people. Hair color, length, clothes and style, pose, expression, the light or darkness of their skin, things like that. Do not assume that someone is white simply because they have light skin.

Do not use image descriptions to lie to the audience in any way and do not use image descriptions to make jokes where the audience reading the image description is the butt of the joke.

As an example, if there is a very clearly fake screenshot, do not say that it is simply a screenshot, or if a photo is very blatantly photoshopped, do not say that it is simply a photo. Say an edited photo, a badly edited photo, a screenshot with editing, something like that to indicate the changes have been made and then what you are going to be describing is not the natural version.

As an example, you would say a crab photoshopped to be driving a car. Rather than a photo of a crab driving a car.

Unless you are transcribing a text within the image, do not use meme speak within image descriptions. Do not refer to dogs as doggos for example, unless it is to specify that the dog in the image is, within the image, labeled as a doggo. Do not describe someone walking downstairs as breasted bubbly downstairs, even if it is an actor humorously walking down the stairs to imitate that sentence. Describe the facts of the movements, and then you can make the comparison for clarity.

If someone adds an image description to your post whether this be an original post or a reblog that you have added an image to, it doesn't matter how many notes to post already has, please copy and paste that image description into the original post or your original reblog. If it is a new post that has only a few notes from friends, after you update the original, you can just ask your friends to delete the reblogs of the inaccessible version and reblog the new one. Most people who are good people and care about disabled people will happily do so.

Keep in mind that image descriptions are accessibility tools. Treat them as such.

Anyone can write image descriptions. You do not need any special qualifications or training. As long as you are willing to take constructive criticism if you make a mistake, an image description written by someone who's new to it and honestly doing their best with good intentions is better than no image description at all.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some things, so please feel free to add on more tips and advice.

[artdcnaldson]

ok remember when I said that last ask was the horniest thing I'd ever written? Well scratch that bc this is a new record. (Obligatory disclaimer if you don't like it feel free to delete/ignore it)

Imagine- if you will- tashi bringing you to one of arts games. And you're in a sweet little tennis dress and you sit next to her and watch art, not even paying attention to the game just taking in his form, the shine of sweat, the concentration on his face, the little grunts and moans. And obviously you start shifting around in your seat, because, what are you supposed to be??? Dry???? No! So, it's the last break and tashi takes you to the bathroom and makes you lean over so she can check on the situation, and your white panties are so wet they're basically see through (in an ideal world she would've banned you from wearing any just to torture you but unfortunately they're famous and with the press and everything it's too much of a risk 😞 ) and you're really hoping she'll help you out but she just goes "hmm" and takes you back to your seat. And the breaks not over, arts noticed that yall were gone and he's making eye contact with tashi and she just. Nods at him. And he's already winning but for the rest of the match he's on fire, practically wiping the floor with the other guy.

After it's over and he's won and done all the press and stuff, you ride back to their hotel, with tashi in the middle bc she's the only one who can be trusted to keep control of herself. You and art are practically vibrating, with desire and exhilaration respectively. So you get back to the hotel room and tashi tells art to go sit on the couch. Then finally, she gives you a little jerk of her chin and you scramble to put yourself over his knee bc you know that he's always antsy after a win but tashi will want to go over everything while it's as fresh as possible, so you just hang out there and let him play with your sopping cunt and ignore you, just feeling him hard against your stomach but satiated for now since he has something to do while he listens to tashis critiques. When she's done she'll give you further instructions and maybe reward you for good behavior.

(am I gonna become a smut writer this is kinda fun)

I’m so fucking obsessed. I’m on my knees. Anything to keep Artashi happy 😁🫵 just look at them

Rating: E(18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, face sitting, fingering, mild mommy/daddy kink, mild dom/sub dynamics) that’s it that’s the story. Just porn without plot

your brain is just sooo fuzzy and mindless while art’s playing with you. The cute shorts you wore beneath the dress tugged to the side, his fingers stuffed inside of you, your own juices smeared down your thigh, spilling more with each slow thrust of his fingers. It could be a few minutes, or an hour. You just know that you lose yourself in the rise and fall of Tashi’s voice as she runs through her notes, in the warm pressure of Art’s thighs pressing against you.

You must’ve gotten too loud, because Tashi’s kneeling in front of you— holding your chin in her hand, forcing eye contact. “Baby, how’s Art supposed to focus when you’re acting like this, huh? Tomorrow’s match is important, he needs to hear this.”

You whine. Big mistake. Tashi meets Art’s gaze, makes a face you don’t understand. And then Art’s slipping his fingers from your warm, needy cunt. “Clean him up,” Tashi instructs.

You wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking on them, cleaning any evidence of your arousal off. You take them deeper, feeling the brush of his fingers at the back of his throat. You moan softly— Tashi grabs your hair and pulls you off.

“Do you have any critiques for Art?” She asks. You blink slowly. Critiques?? What was there to critique?? “You were at the game. Show Art that you were paying attention.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you looked into Art’s eyes. God, he was so pretty. And then your eyes traveled down, and he was so hard in his shorts that it was tenting the fabric. You just wanted to mouth at him through them, make him feel good. “I— I don’t.”

Tashi sighed, almost disappointed, but not really. Tennis critiques weren’t what you were there for. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She patted your thigh. “Go lay down on the bed.”

You obey so sweetly— hands by your sides, fisted in the duvet so you won’t be tempted to touch yourself. Your thighs rub together as you seek friction, need pulsing between your thighs, adding to the mess of wetness.

It’s five minutes (which you know, because you count) until Tashi and Art join you. Art’s down to the fucking obscene briefs Tashi makes him wear, straining against the fabric obscenely. And Tashi’s wearing fucking agent provocateur, so beautiful that you could die happy just at the sight of her.

“If you paid attention to the match, we would’ve been really sweet to you,” Tashi hums as she takes off your dress. The shorts are soaked so badly that she practically peels them away from your cunt. “But all you could think about was getting fucked, huh?”

You nod as she presses two fingers between your lips, pushing all the way until she hits the back of your throat and you gag around them. She stays like that, thrusting her fingers between your lips, smiling every time your eyes fill with unshed tears and your throat constricts. “It’s been a long day. Just let mommy and daddy use you.”

And you do, because that’s all you can really ask for. Tashi slips off her lingerie, putting on a show without even trying. She straddles your face, knees planted on either side of your head, and sinks onto your waiting mouth.

You moan at the taste of her on your tongue, hands eagerly grabbing at her ass to pull her closer. Usually she would scold you for being greedy, but it was the farthest thing from her mind while she was benefiting from said neediness. You eagerly alternated between lapping at her dripping center and giving her clit the attention it needs.

And then there’s Art. He pulls apart your thighs and pushes into the tight, wet heat waiting for him there. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as he sinks inch after inch after inch inside. He groans at the feeling of your pussy gripping him, pulling him in, in, in. His grip on your hips is so tight it feels bruising.

You lose yourself in the two of them— brain going fuzzy and empty. All you knew, all that mattered in the moment was Tashi, and Art, and how good you felt.

And Tashi’s moaning above you— relishing in your need to please. Even with her husband balls deep inside of you, even with your mind so fuzzy, you keep your attention divided so fairly. You were so fucking nice, she didn’t even have to take the reins— she just got to sit there and let you work her with your tongue.

You were in fucking heaven. Art wasn’t content just using— it feels better when you cum while he’s inside of you. He moves you like a pretty little doll, adjusting you just right. He puts your legs over his shoulders so he gets deeper, kissing your cervix with each deep thrust. His thumb presses against your clit, rubs in slow circles.

Tashi cums first— hips stuttering as she grinds against your face. You relish in it, licking at her center as she comes down, until the lightest brush against her clit makes her twitch with overstimulation. She moves off of you, kissing you with slow, sweet laps of her tongue. You give a shuddery gasp into her mouth.

“Is daddy making you feel good?” Her words are cooed against your ear. You nod wordlessly, only capable of pretty moans or needy whines. She turns her gaze to Art, who’s already close as is, without the attention of his fucking perfect wife.

“Close,” Art groans, meeting her gaze. Her lips turn into an amused smirk as she pushes his thumb off of your clit, and replaces it with her own lithe fingers.

Your back arches as she works you with her fingers, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Art continues to fuck into you. Each thrust is accompanied by lead, near pornographic sounds— the squelch of your soaked cunt swallowing his cock, the slap of his balls against your ass, the fucked-out moans passing his lips.

Your climax overtakes you suddenly. Your back arches off the bed as you cum. Your pussy clenches around Art’s cock as he continues to fuck into you, and your release leaves an obscene, creamy ring around the base of him. Tashi’s lips are on yours, swallowing down the moans and cries falling from your lips as Art fucks you into overstimulation.

Art buries himself within you as he cums, spilling into you with a few shallow thrusts. You whine when he finally pulls out and some of cum dribbles out, making an even bigger mess of the duvet.

Tashi pets your hair sweetly, kisses your sweat-sticky forehead. Art leaves to grab a towel— you hear him dampening it in the fancy en-suite bathroom. “By the way, I thought you shouldn’t get to cum.”

Art laughs lightly as he returns, cleaning you up between your thighs. “I told her I’d throw the match tomorrow, it always works.” He kisses you deeply, and you moan against his mouth. God, he was a good kisser.

“I can always just stop believing you,” Tashi reminded him. “Maybe I was in a giving mood.” Art snorts, you meet her gaze through narrowed eyes.

She’s right where she belongs. Art’s head is on her shoulder, yours rests on her chest. You’re all just a tangle of sweaty limbs.

TASHI DUNCAN I WONT U SO BAD 😚🫵

Sorry to Art he truly is a racket and a dick in this fic

[222col]

is it casual now? | part 2

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ part two of this - based on the song 'casual' by chappell roan ★ 5.7k ★ 18+ | inc: angst, smut, fluff, f oral, unprotected sex, choking, spitting, breeding, smoking, drinking, drugs ★ an: patrick is a college student & also has a sister for context

your grades had slipped, your drinking had gotten worse, your body count had gone up. your focus and energy stripped away from you in one conversation with patrick zweig. you were smoking out your dorm window, rather than just usually at parties. going through bags of weed alone, rather than at the park with some friends. you faked smiles and acted like your world wasn't shattered the minute patrick left you dorm room all those months ago. your friends hadn't noticed how badly you were struggling, putting on too good of a facade for anyone to dig past. you hadn't seen patrick once since he left, not even at parties or around campus. one of your friends heard he'd dropped out of college, but you didn't know how true that rumour was, although you wouldn't put it past him. he never was too interested in classes, more the parties and the tennis. he'd told you once that college was his parents' idea, not his. but, you still couldn't bring yourself to believe that he may have well and truly left.

patrick was on your mind often, when you'd find an t-shirt of his in your laundry, or someone walking past you was wearing his cologne. you'd blocked his number the morning after he left, knowing you'd probably drunk call him if you didn't delete it. his sister calls you sometimes, asking about college, telling you about school, but she never mentions patrick. neither do you, you don't want him to find out you're asking about him. can't face the embarrassment of him thinking you're still pining over him. you always end her call and immediately roll a joint, needing to numb the pain after remembering patrick's actions.

as another friday rolled around, you began your weekend routine. showering, smoking a cigarette out of the window, towel in your hair. doing your make up at your desk, drinking a few cans of whatever was cheapest before slipping into the smallest skirt and top you could find that was clean in your wardrobe. drying your hair, packing your purse and walking over to whatever fraternity was hosting a party that night. meeting your group of friends, stealing a bottle of liquor from the kitchen and sitting outside in the garden. lighting another cigarette as you all shared the stolen alcohol. "do you always have to show us up?" one of your friends laughs to you, passing the bottle along. you laugh back, rolling your eyes. "i'm not showing anyone up. we're all hot." toking on the cigarette, legs crossed on the plastic chair. all of you gossiping about your weeks, pointing out the cute boys inside and laughing your way through the liquor bottle. stubbing out your cigarette, a blonde boy walks outside. "hey, art." your best friend smiles to her fellow tennis teammate. your breath hitches, half expecting patrick to follow him out, they used to be attached at the hip. but art's alone. "what, no patrick glued to your side?" your friend teases, met with a slap to the arm. "i thought we said no mentioning he who shall not be named." your best friend whispers in her ear.

art laughs at your group, lighting his own cigarette. "no, no patrick. he dropped out a couple months ago, haven't seen much of him since." holding in any form of a reaction to art's words, apart from sipping on the vodka you stole. "hmm, interesting. why'd he drop out?" one of your friends asks, as your best friend slips her hand into yours. "not really sure, he just said he couldn't be here anymore, said it was too hard for him." art replies, pulling up a seat with you all. "the classes?" someone asks him. art shakes his head. "i don't think so, i think something must have happened that he just couldn't get over." standing up abruptly, you march inside the house, locking the door to the bathroom behind you. gritting your teeth, head leaning back against the door, holding back your tears. trying to persuade yourself that it couldn't have had anything to do with you. refusing to let your mind wonder, slipping down the door, sitting on the cold floor. did patrick actually feel bad? could he possibly have left college because the sight of you was too hard for him to get over? your mind racing, trying to ignore all the feelings rushing to your brain. you pull yourself out of it when you hear someone saying your name and knocking on the door.

you see the blonde locks before you realise it's art, opening the door fully and letting him join you in the bathroom. "hey, are you okay?" he asks, as you sit down on the side of the bathtub, art joining you. "yeah, sorry, i'm fine." art tilts his head, looking for the real answer. "is this about patrick? i know you guys used to hook up." you can't hold back the scoff, patrick really did never describe your time together as anything more than a hook up. fiddling with your hands, so anxious to be talking about patrick for the first time in over six months. "you know patrick told me he loved me once, while we were hooking up." you start, eyes glued to the floor. "in the bathroom of a restaurant, while his parents were still at the table." you half laugh, as art breathes out. "then when i asked him about it, after he'd kissed some girl at a party i took him to, he just told me he didn't mean it, and that i was nothing more than a fuck buddy to him." art immediately starts to apologise, genuinely disturbed by his friend's actions. "he left me crying on my bed that night, and i never saw him again." nodding your head as you look art in the eyes. he sighs, stroking your back as he apologises again. "so that's why he left." art breathes out. you shake your head in response. "i meant nothing to him, he wouldn't have left because of me." art's hand stays on your back. "patrick gets scared when real emotions come into play, he runs from them. this time he must have just physically ran away from them." tears well up in your eyes, holding your head back, trying to stop them from falling. "i can't think about that, art. he's gone, he's obviously not coming back. i need to try and move on." you respond, standing up and readying yourself to rejoin the party. "thanks, for coming to check on me, and for listening." art smiles sweetly to you, standing up to follow you out of the bathroom. "anytime." closing the door behind you two as he leans down to give you a friendly hug, before you rejoin your girls outside. distracting yourself with more drinks as you attempt to glaze over what just happened, letting your friends lead the conversations and join in the drinking games occasionally. heading home when the sun starts to come up, stumbling into your room, passing out on top of the blankets.

art wakes up the next morning with one thing on his mind, patrick. specifically how patrick treated you, and why he's been hiding everything from him. brushing his teeth before calling his best friend. "a-art? why are you calling so early, are you okay?" patrick's groggy morning voice answers the phone. "patrick it's literally 11am." art replies, pacing around his room, phone to his ear. "whatever, what's up?" patrick mumbles. "why didn't you tell me what actually went down when you left?" art questions, blunt as ever. "what do you mean? i told you, it got too much." art sighs in response. "yeah, but you never said what got too much." it's patrick sighing now, he'd managed to avoid this conversation for all this time. "it was because of her, hasn't it?" art almost whispers into the phone, patrick silent, art speaks your name through the phone. "you left because of what happened between you, didn't you?" patrick still silent, knowing he had to face the music. "yeah," he whispers, voice low. "i couldn't do it anymore, it was killing me to see her around." art hums down the phone, listening to patrick's confession. "how'd you realise?" patrick questions. art explains the conversation you had with him at the party last night, telling patrick how hurt you looked, how upset it made him to see you like that. "she's not doing good, pat. you really fucked up." art tells him off, still walking circles around his room. "trust me, i know." patrick admits to his friend as art asks him, "do you regret it?"

"very much so." patrick replies, without missing a beat. his voice softening with his reply. "apologise and get her back then?" art words phrased as more of an instruction than a question, hearing patrick breathe out heavily. "it's not that easy, art." art slumps onto his bed, aggravated with his friend. "patrick, if you miss her, get her back. she clearly misses you." his words sharp, letting patrick understand the situation. "she was never mine to begin with." patrick chokes on his words, art's never heard him like this. "yeah, and who's fault was that? just don't make the same mistake again, you clearly really like her." art argues back through the phone. "i love her, art." patrick finally admits, his voice soft and quiet, softer than art had ever heard him. "i know you do buddy, that's why you gotta come home and get your girl back." art finally matching patrick's tone. "what if she doesn't want me anymore, art? i fucked up so bad, and hurt her so much. i couldn't cope if she didn't want me." art can hear patrick's quiet sobs as he cries out the words. "look, i'm pretty sure she's not gonna do that, but if she does, i'm always here, okay? i wish you'd have just talked to me in the first place." patrick sighs through the phone before responding. "i know, okay, i'm gonna pack a bag and jump in the car now." patrick says through sniffles. "i'm gonna need your help with this, art."

waking up, head banging, yesterday's make up still on, your room a mess. typical weekend routine continuing. rubbing your eyes, sitting up in bed, checking your texts through squinted eyes.

hey, do you wanna come watch tennis with me today? ur best friend's crush is playing lol if u wanna bring her along. we're all hitting up the dive bar off campus after

you read the text from art, you couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in the sun on the bleachers watching tennis right now, but you know how much your best friend liked this guy on the tennis team. you also know how shy she is about it, despite everyone knowing about her crush. so you of course, as a good friend, accept the invitation.

yeah sure, what time? :)

art tells you the match starts in a couple hours. downing a bottle of water before calling your friend to tell her the plans then jumping in the shower. putting on some make up, jeans and a tank top, placing your sunglasses over your eyes and heading off to meet art and your best friend. a couple girls from your group sit together on the bleachers, as well as the other tennis players that art knows. "you not playing today, art?" you ask him. "nah, my match is tomorrow." nodding your head as your friend starts blushing at the sight of her crush on the court. the game lasts a little while, your friend's crush ended up losing. your hangover finally disappearing as you all head over to the bar. cramming around a couple tables, the big group of you all share drinks and laughs, discussing tennis and college antics.

"where's my blondie?" that oh too familiar voice comes through the door. your body sinking, looking to your best friend for comfort. your back to the door, hoping, praying that it's not him. art's sat two chairs away from you, smile spreading across his face as he turns on his chair. "tell me it's not him." you mumble, grasping your friends hand. her gaze soft, just nodding her head at you. art's engulfed in a hug, those brunette curls are unmistakable. "oh have i missed that face." patrick's words echo around the bar, everyone laughing at the reunion, still facing away from the two of them. as though if you don't look at him, you don't have to accept that he's actually here. he and art walk over to the bar, catching up and ordering drinks. "i need to leave, i can't be here with him." you start standing up, being pulled back down to your seat. "no, you can't give him the satisfaction. you're staying." your knee bouncing up and down as your favourite drink is placed in front of you with a napkin. you don't have to look up to know patrick placed it there, as he and art sit back down on the table. you sigh, pulling the napkin under the table to read the note.

i would have just text you, but you blocked my number. meet me at the park at 10pm?

scrunching up the napkin, you place it in one of the empty glasses on the table. looking over to patrick finally as you do. his eyes locking on yours, mouthing 'please' to you across the table. you roll your eyes and turn back to your friend, telling her what the note said. "you're not going." she instructs you as you sip on the drink patrick bought you. "i know i'm not." you say, eyes drifting back over to patrick who's deep in conversation with all the boys who play tennis. "would you kill me if i did?" you breath out. "yes. yes i would." she laughs, your head falling on to her shoulder. "you're gonna go, aren't you?" her tone is soft, you can feel her shaking her head. "yeah, i am." she simply pats your head. "you're a lost cause." she laughs, the two of you reentering the groups conversation. all the boys at the table gushing over patrick, leaning on his every word, all of your friends are weary of him, subtly giving him dirty looks, smiling at you whenever they do. patrick commands the room, his charm working on everyone at the table, as it always has.

everyone finishes up their drinks around 9pm and heads home, your best friend following you back to your dorm. brushing your hair and reapplying your make up, picking up a hoodie from the floor and slipping it over your head. "just be careful, okay? don't believe everything he says, i'll wait here for you until you get back." your best friend tells you, hugging you before you leave. "and whatever you do, don't fuck him!" she shouts as you close your door behind you. your heart is in your stomach as you walk towards the park on the edge of campus, the path lit by streetlights in what would otherwise be complete darkness. hands in the pocket on your hoodie as you see the park in sight. and there he is. leaning on the wall by the entrance, a toothy grin plastered on his face as he sees you approach. smiling slightly at him as you stand before him. "i'm so glad you came." patrick says sweetly. "why did you ask me here?" you ask, following him as he leads you to a bench in the corner of the park. "this is where we first kissed, did you know that?" he says, the two of you sitting down, his arm resting on the back of the bench behind your head. "mmm, didn't realise." you lie, of course you know that. you've spent hours on this bench in the time he's been away, journalling, listening to music and only sometimes crying.

"we walked here after the party i met you at, we sat here on this bench and talked for hours, before i finally got the courage to kiss you." you scoff at his words, lifting your legs up onto the bench to sit cross legged. "you didn't need courage patrick, i've watched you kiss a girl after two seconds of meeting her." his fingers are inches away from the back of your neck, desperate to touch you. "that's different, you were different." you're shaking your head now, hands reentering your pockets. "i liked talking to you, i hadn't felt like that with someone i wanted to kiss before." he brings his leg up onto the bench, directing his body to you. "oh wow, you were actually interested in what i had to say, that's so kind of you." patrick says your name. "please, this isn't what i asked you here to talk about." his hand fiddling with the hem of his jeans. "well what did you want to talk about, patrick? because i don't have much to say to you." you return, your body shifting to the same position he's sat. finally looking at him, a smile spreading on his cheeks as you do.

it slowly fades as he begins talking. "art told me what happened at the party last night, he called me this morning cussing me out for how i treated you. telling me he knew why i ran away now." your head dips, looking down to your lap. "and he's right, i treated you awfully. you didn't deserve it, i was a piece of shit." he laughs, lifting up your chin to look you in the eyes. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. it was one of the worst things i've ever done, leaving you like that." his hand stays on your face, stroking your cheek. "and it is why i left, i was scared. because i did mean it, what i told you in that bathroom." your lip quivers at his words, desperately trying to not fall for his games. shaking your head and moving from his hand. "you're just saying that to get what you want." you tell him, eyes welling up. "i'm not, i promise you. i'm telling you because it's true, i was scared and stupid and thought i didn't deserve you." his eyes honest, his leg bouncing, hands fidgeting. "i tried to stick it out, but every time i saw you around and at parties, i couldn't handle it. i couldn't deal with how i felt, and how i let you slip through my fingers." quiet tears from your eyes, his hand moving to wipe them away. "so i left," patrick continues. "i went back home and tried to ignore how i was feeling, but when art called me this morning, i realised it didn't work. because," patrick takes a deep breathe. "i love you."

more tears fall down your cheeks, gulping before you think about speaking. "you hurt me so much, patrick. hearing what you told your friends about me, having you tell me to my face how casual it was after you told me you loved me during a weekend meeting your parents." his fingers tangle between yours, too hurt to move them away from his. "i thought i was the stupid one, for believing you could think of me in anyway that wasn't just some girl you fuck." his eyes welling up now too, listening to you intently. "and i'm still being the stupid one, coming here and meeting you the second you come back, because i missed you so much and i love you." you barely recognise that you're saying the words until it's too late. your lip between your teeth, watching the tears fall down patrick's face. "you do?" he smiles through the tears, laughing as you gently hit him on the arm. "of course i do, you idiot."

his fingers grasp hold of yours tighter now, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "i can't believe you've got me here crying, confessing my love to you." he laughs through his sniffles. "i know, what's happened to the patrick zweig that didn't care about anything apart from tennis and art donaldson?" you laugh, wiping your own tears from your cheeks. "shut up." he laughs at your words. "i know i've got a long way to go to get you to trust me, but i really care for you, and i really wanna give this a go." patrick says, his hands still fidgeting with yours. "my best friend is going to kill me." you laugh back at him, hand caressing his cheek as he leans into your touch. leaning towards you, meeting him half way as his soft lips crash into yours. pulling your body towards him as your lips move in unison. "you look really hot in my hoodie, by the way, cute that you kept it." he whispers against your lips, snapping your head down to the jumper on your body. realising 'stanford tennis' is printed on the centre, bursting out laughing. "oh my god, i didn't even realise, i just picked a hoodie off the floor before i left." hiding your face in his neck as he pulls you into his arms, holding you there for a short while. breathing in your scent, hands balled around the fabric of your hoodie, not wanting to let you go.

your name leaves his lips as he gradually releases you from his grasp. "i really am so sorry, you know? i'll never get over how much of an asshole i was." you smile to him, moving onto his lap, arms snaking around his neck. "i know, it's a good job you're so charming, otherwise there'd be no coming back." you laugh to him, patrick laughing softly in response. "can you actually admit that you remember this bench, now you're not as angry with me now?" he jokes, tickling your sides. "patrick, we literally had sex on this bench that night, how could i forget?" the two of you laugh into each others bodies. "god, you're actually my dream girl." patrick utters, blush creeping onto your cheeks, leaning down to kiss his lips. "shall we go home?" you ask him, standing up from his lap, holding out your hand for him. smiling sweetly as he laces his fingers through yours, following you back to your dorm. unlocking your door as patrick stops you before you push it open. "i just wanna say, i promise to never make you feel the way you did last time i was in this room, ever again, okay?" he tells you, hands holding yours, pressing small kisses to your knuckles. nodding your head softly at him as you enter your room.

"oh, i am going to seriously kill you!" your best friend laughs out, completely forgetting she had offered to wait at your dorm for you while you went to meet patrick. jumping up off your bed, she laughs and shakes her head at you, patrick attempting to hide behind your smaller frame. "i know, i know. but-" you start, cut off by her words. "and you, patrick zweig!" his hands up in defence, smirking at her words. "don't get me started on the torturous acts i will do to you if you hurt her again." your best friend continues, half laughing, half serious as she makes her way to your door. "i'm sorry, he just-" you try again to explain yourself, her cutting you off again. "i trust you, whatever makes you happy, girly. call me tomorrow and tell me everything!" she tells you, closing the door behind her.

sliding your shoes off your feet, patrick follows suit. the two of you discarding your hoodies to the floor, patrick sitting down on the bed, pulling you on top of him. laughing as you fall onto his body, knees either side of his thighs. his hands caressing the bare skin on your arms, placing soft kisses to your neck. "i've missed you so much, missed your skin, your smell, your lips." he mumbles, before placing his lips onto yours. grinding against him softly, arms snaking around his neck, tongue slipping into his mouth. soft breathing and quiet moans slipping through the kiss, the denim of both of your jeans grinding against each other. "are you already hard?" you giggle into his mouth, feeling his boner underneath you. "shut up, it's been a while." he smirks, slipping your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. "you're seriously telling me you haven't slept with anyone else in all this time?" you ask, hands slipping under his t-shirt, stroking the skin on his back. your lips wrapped around his earlobe, flicking your tongue over the skin, small groans falling from patrick's lips. "couldn't do it, couldn't even think about it. just wanted you." he speaks, eyes closed, distracted by your mouth on his jaw. his hands on your hips, grabbing the skin, guiding your movements against him. "god, where's the player gone?" you tease, sucking on the skin of his neck. "i'm a changed man." he smirks, lifting you up, throwing your body down onto the bed, giggling as you land.

pulling his t-shirt over his head, smiling down at you as he climbs on top of you. lips against yours, only pulling apart as patrick pulls your tank over your head. smirking as he notices your lack of bra, his big hands grasping and groping your exposed chest. lips continue attacking each others, reaching between you to undo the top button of his jeans, pulling down the zipper. using your feet to push the jeans down his body. patrick does the rest of the work for you, pushing them down his legs with his boxers, throwing them across the room as you remove your own jeans. patrick's mouth kissing down your stomach, pulling down your underwear with his teeth. heavy breathing filling the room, tension growing, along with your wetness. kicking your panties off your feet as patrick spreads your legs apart, kissing down your thighs, stomach against the bed as his curls disappear between your legs. your back arched, head flung back as patrick's lips leave kisses on your sweet spot. mewling at the feeling, grasping his hair as his tongue flicks back and forth over you. "fuck- i've missed the taste of you." patrick moans against you, causing more profanities to escape you. licking one last line through your folds as patrick kisses his way back up your body to your lips.

teasing you as his cock rubs against you, pushing himself in an inch before rubbing his tip against your clit once more. "jesus, patrick, please fuck me." you beg him, chest rising and falling. "well, seen as in you asked so nicely." he smirks, pushing in, bottoming out. loud moans leave the both of you, patrick grabbing the back of your thighs, pushing your legs against your body. his knees either side of your ass, fucking in and out of you at speed. sloppy kisses against your feet and ankles as sweat slicks his curls to his forehead. sheets balled in your hands, brows furrowed as patrick's name repeatedly falls out from your lips. dropping your legs down as patrick's body weight falls on you, his hands squeezing your waist, pulling you onto him as he pushes himself into you. wet kisses muffle the moans coming from the both of you, tongues gliding against each others. one of his hands moving around your throat, causing your eyes to roll back, signature smirk forming on his lips. "so pretty like this, baby." he utters, moving his free hand down to thumb your clit. "fuck- missed you so much." you confess in your fucked-out state, words coarse due to patrick's hand around your neck. "christ, missed you too princess, missed this pretty pussy too." mouth wide open as patrick's pace increases, eyes not leaving each others, a glob of patrick's spit landing on your tongue. the noise from you has patrick shivering, groaning as he watches you smirk and swallow. "fucking hell, you're perfect. christ, i love you." patrick moans, hand slipping off your throat, clawing at the fabric next to your head.

"i love you- fuck i'm close." you whimper, scratching lines down his spine. "me too baby, shit, fuck-" his hips slap against you a few more times, thumb still rubbing circles on your sweet spot as patrick's thrusts stop, his cum filling you up, painting your walls as your orgasm washes over you. both mumbling each others' names, riding out your high before patrick's body falls onto yours, sliding out of you. your bodies awash with each others' sweat and spit and cum, breathing together as one. patrick falls off to the side, turning to face each other on the bed. giggling at each other, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek as you pull his body closer to yours by his waist. smiles not leaving your faces. "i love you, you're so perfect." patrick mumbles, breathing starting to calm. kissing the tip of his nose as you reply. "i love you too."

patrick spends the week at your dorm, spending every minute he can with you. only darting off to see art during your classes, but making sure he's there to pick you up and walk you home when you finish. going on dinner dates, helping you study, bringing you to tennis with him and art. he hates being away from you, fingers always laced through yours when you're out and about. this week of domestic patrick shows you how far he'd go to get you to trust him, wanting to prove to you that you really do mean everything to him. slowly, but surely, the trust was coming back. meeting art for lunch after your day of classes, the three of you sit and laugh your way through your food. "are you guys coming to the party tonight?" art asks, mouth full of food. it's the one thing you've been scared about. patrick and you had been enjoying your time in your bubble, no real outside influences penetrating. a party with patrick filled you with so much anxiety, knowing how the last one went down. "oh yeah, sure, we'll be there." patrick answers for you, his hand on your thigh.

anxiously getting ready, patrick playing music as you pregame your way through your make up. slipping into a tiny dress, putting your shoes on your feet, asking patrick to put your necklace on for you. looking at you through the mirror as he does, placing kisses on your neck after putting on your necklace. "are you trying to kill me?" he chuckles, zipping up the fly of his jeans. "what do you mean?" you laugh back, packing your bag with your things. "you look so so good, baby." he smiles, pulling you to his lips. "let's go, princess." patrick instructs, lightly smacking your ass on the way out. patrick's engulfed in commotion as the two of you enter the party, by those who hadn't seen him back on campus, his hand never letting go of yours. "i'm gonna go find my girls, i'll find you soon, okay?" you tell him, kissing his cheek as he nods to you, being pulled into the kitchen by the boys. finding your friends hanging around on couches, whistling and complimenting you as you join them. "patrick's still here then, hey?" one of your friends tease you, smirking as you steal her bottle of tequila. gulping some down as the questions come flooding in. is he staying at art's? are you two fully back on then? is it official now? is he re-enrolling?

"oh my god girls, is this twenty questions?" you laugh, swigging down anther gulp. all their heads tilted, waiting for the answers. "patrick's been staying with me, we're doing well but not official no, and he doesn't know yet." you finally breathe out, passing back the liquor. multiple oohs and awws leave your friends mouths, before the tennis boys all join you. squeezing onto couches and piling on the floor as more partygoers join you. "truth or dare!" someone shouts out, everyone nodding in agreement. the big group of you go round playing the game, crushes being revealed, shots being taken, all drinking as you go. "patrick zweig, truth or dare?" one of the boys you've not seen before asks him. "dare, obviously." patrick laughs, sipping on his beer across the room from you. "i dare you... to make out with lucy." the group erupts, reactions mixed. gulping down the frog in your throat, chewing the inside of your cheek. "no." patrick states, shaking his head. "no offence obviously, but i've got a girlfriend." patrick smiles smugly at you, feeling the flush on your cheeks, sipping on your own drink. everyone whispering at patrick's words, as your best friend speaks out. "oh, do you?" she laughs, her head leaning against your knee as she sits on the floor next to you on the couch. "yeah, do you, patrick?" you ask, smirking at him. "you know i do." he laughs across the room, winking at you.

the crowd gradually disperses, patrick nodding you over to him, the two of you heading outside for a smoke. "girlfriend, huh?" you ask, as he lights both your cigarettes. patrick smirks, pulling you into his side. "well, you are, aren't you?" he says, kissing the top of your head. "news to me." you tease him, smirking through your cigarette. patrick says your name, head tilted. "well, you never asked." your eyes looking away, smug as you toke the cigarette. "will you please be my girlfriend?" patrick smiles, pushing your body against his. "hmm, i guess it would be a bit embarrassing if i said no, everyone in there already thinks i am." you continue to tease him. "please be my girlfriend." patrick repeats, laughing through his words. "of course i will." you finally give in, his lips latching on to yours. "i can't believe you did that." you laugh into his neck. patrick just shrugs in response. "i told you, i don't wanna hide how i feel anymore, i'm a taken man!" patrick chuckles. the two of you finish smoking, heading back into the party. patrick pulling you onto the floor where everyone has started dancing, his arms around you, hands resting on your ass as the two of you dance with each other. "hottest girl in the world." he mumbles into your ear, placing kisses below your earlobe. "hottest boyfriend in the world." you mutter back to him. "don't think i'll ever get over hearing you call me that." he states, smirking down at you before kissing your cheek. "i love you."

[johnbrand]

Just a Reminder

Thomas groaned as he took a seat on the subway, noticing a voicemail from his stepdad. He simply could not bear this new man in his mother’s life. The guy was a total dick. Obsessed with everything traditionally masculine and staunchly against anything that was not. He constantly bombarded Thomas with pointed remarks. Art lectures were supposedly hosted by exploitative shirkers, a generalized business degree with financial experience was much more reliable. After-work bourbon and golfing were much more respectable than hitting up the “boy bars” his stepdad assumed he frequented (which unfortunately was correct). 

Worst of all was that the pair shared a name. Upon this horrifying discovery, Thomas had insisted to only go by Thomas, countering any chance of him to be further associated with his stepdad, Tom. Thomas liked pop divas because of their music, Tom thought they were hot. Thomas worked at an art gallery because his smaller body kept him out of sports, Tom was employed through the Financial District with mornings spent on the greens and afternoons spent on the court. 

With a sigh, Thomas dropped his brightly-colored backpack onto the floor and tightened his ponytail. He was still in his dirty paint clothes, so he was hoping that his stepdad’s voicemail did not require anything from him as he wanted nothing more than to go home and wash up. Thomas pushed play. The message started with a few seconds of ambient build-up, but it quickly became disastrous. A cacophony of violent melodies pierced into Thomas’s mind like electric hooks, paralyzing him before he could fight back. His stepdad's voice softly entered above all the racket, looping multiple lines over like a tantalizing, brainwashing choir.

Trust your father. Respect your father. Your father is always right. Your father’s words are truth. Your father’s words are reality. Your father is always right. You are your father’s creation. You are your father’s imitation. Your father is always right. Masculinity is what your father exudes. Masculinity is what your father expects. Your father is always right. You desire to honor your father. You desire to emulate your father. Your father is always right. Your father is always right. Your Father Is Always Right.

…

“Hey son, this is just a reminder about our dinner at the country club this evening. Your mother and I are excited to hear about your new prospects at the investment firm. I’ve invited my secretary, Claire, to join us as well.”

…

Tommy dumbly smiled, casually fondling the chubby in his expensive trousers before deleting the voicemail from his father. He simply could not wait to have dinner with his mother’s new husband, who appropriately insisted to not be called anything but "father." The pair were so alike after all, it only seemed right for Tom to be referred to as such.

Tom was the epitome of an alpha male. He held tight to what was traditionally masculine, fighting against all that was not. And it became obvious early on that this was the man Tommy wanted to follow. He attended the same undergrad as Tom, played the same sports as Tom, and was now crafting a career similar to Tom’s. Tommy aspired to be a copy of his father, albeit 25 years younger. They shared a dominating height, tight-yet-toned muscular frames, pronounced brow-lines and well-maintained beards. According to their tailor, even their measurements were nearly identical. 

Best of all was that the pair already shared a name. Upon this wondrous discovery, Tommy had insisted to be called as such, shortening to the nickname to respect his idol. And now, coming home from a long day in the office, Tommy was thrilled to spend the evening with his parents. He was thankful he was already appropriately dressed; his tailored suit properly displaying everything from the strapping chest down to his large, powerful feet.

Running a hand through his tightly-managed permed-fringe, Tommy navigated around his phone to his messages. He quickly texted his father back, thanking him for the reminder and for inviting his secretary. The back of Tommy's heel tapped rambunctiously beside his designer satchel, his thick cock already throbbing at the thought of reentering Claire's wet pussy while she begged for his seed. Tommy could not wait; his father was the best!

[paulyenvol6]

Sweet Pleas

This is based on a request I received but I accidentally deleted it, I'm so sorryyy. I was lucky though because I wrote down the main points before and wrote something about it which I'm very excited to share. So to the person that sent the request: this is for you and thank you so much for your request. And to everyone else: Please send me all of your requests, I want to write want you want to hear and read your ideas :)

Here's a little summary of what the person requested: - Daemon x dornish/essosi wife with a good and stable relationship - degrading, mean, dom Daemon - denied orgasms, choking, marking, praising - aftercare and fluff

Contains: detailed smut, fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, choking, marking, biting, bruising, slapping, degrading, praising, denied orgasms, size kink, slight pain kink, dom & mean Daemon, submissive reader, aftercare, fluff, loving Daemon in the end

Wordcount: ~4.65k

Masterlist

"My sweet lady wife.", Daemon whispered against your ear and you felt heat rising in your cheeks. You giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed next to your ear.

"You really expected me to make it through the night with you looking like that?"

You smiled which he couldn't see and caressed his back. In truth it had been your intention for him to desire you and touch you after the feast in celebration of the King's name day but you hadn't expected him to be so eager that he couldn't wait until it was over.

You had worn a revealing pink dress that looked amazing on your brown skin and as Daemon painfullly had to experience, your husband hadn't been the only one to notice your beauty. Lords and knights had their gaze a little to long on you for the Rogue Prince's liking so he had taken you up to your chambers for two reasons. Not only because he couldn't wait to lay his hands on you but so he could hide you from the other men's eyes. And you didn't complain but felt light and happy as your husband took hold of your hips and dug his fingers into your skin.

'Daemon, Daemon, Daemon' was the only thought in your head. It was always like this. He took control of every thought of yours and left you feeling consumed by him.

It wasn't like your marriage had always been that good. You were 26 now and had married the Rogue Prince 7 years ago when he was 24. It had been a political arrangement and far away from a love match because the crown had been at war with Dorne for a long time and to seal the new peace treaty, your father had given your hand to the King's brother who had happened to be a widower.

In the beginning the capital had been strange and odd, Daemon was foreign to you but over the time the two of you had started to develop a special bond and began to love each other. You had learned together, made experiences and now you couldn't imagine living without him. He understood you in ways no one had ever been capable of and… you just matched. He had shown you what pleasure meant and had taught you the arts of intimacy between man and wife. And now you were inseperable and each day that he wasn't by your side felt like there was a shadow hanging over it.

"My sweet girl.", he now whispered as his hands wandered up to caress the swell of your breasts, just very light and careful and you reached out to press him closer to you which he commented with a scoff.

"So needy.", he complained and shook his head. "I think someone forgot their manners." You moaned dissatisfied and Daemon grabbed your wrists with his left hand and held them in front of your body.

"Just be a good girl for me and take what I give you." You looked up to him with big eyes and he couldn't help himself but lean down to kiss you. You simply looked too delightful and delicate with your big brown doll eyes. Your husband decided to change your position and so simply picked you up and gently laid you down on the bed. As you were getting comfortable on your back Daemon slowly took off his shirt and he made sure to keep eye contact the entire time.

"Such a filthy little whore.", he growled as he approached you, sat down next to you on the bed and leaned down to kiss your already swollen lips.

"You just enjoy it too much, don't you? Seeing all those lord's eyes on you." His voice sounded husky and dark and it made your cunt clench around nothing. "I asked you a question.", he snapped and grabbed your chin.

"Y-Yes I enjoy it." Daemon smirked evily and suddenly, still sitting next to your lying figure, reached down and slipped his right hand under your gown and cupped your sex. You were surprised and instinctively closed your legs around his hand which he commented with a scoff. Meanwhile his left hand caressed your bare shoulder and also slightly pressed you in the sheets as if he knew that he would need to have his hand there once he started pleasuring you and you would move around on the bed. Daemon gently moved his hand on your cunt so you received just a little friction but you needed so much more so you squirmed and spread your legs further.

"Please. Daemon, do something." If you had expected him to give in you really didn't know your husband because he just smirked smugly and ran his finger through your slit.

"So fucking wet already.", he mumbled. "You really are a greedy little slut. Just need to pin you down on your back and you're dripping. Pitiful."

Your eyes fluttered and you really felt as if you were in paradise because this kind of Daemon was the one you needed. Obviously you hadn't known about your tastes when you had married him but with him you had explored what brought you pleasure and learned that you never felt more comfortable and desired than when he degraded you. Talked to you as if you were nothing but a common whore to please him. That mixture of degrading and praising made you melt.

Daemon, who had felt how turned on you already were, finally connected his thumb with your little pearl and circled it painfully slow. You whimpered and shivered and squirmed underneath his hand in an attempt to get more friction but of course he wouldn't have this so his hand on your shoulder pressed you down with more force and he watched you with flashing eyes.

"Stop moving so much. Little whores like you take what they're given. Cause that's what you are after all. A little whore to do with however I wish. A set of holes, each tighter and warmer than the other. We shall see which I'll use today."

It was insane what his words did to you and of course Daemon knew it as well so he used them to turn you into a muddle. Your eyes threatened to close when his thumb rubbed your pearl faster and his left hand grabbed your chin at once.

"No. Look at me, little one."

Your eyelids felt heavy and yet you obeyed him. You were beyond overwhelmed with his touch on your cunt and his voice that said these filthy things that made your heart beat faster. When he thrusted two fingers deep inside your hole you widened your eyes and your mouth formed an 'O'. As he was still sitting next to you on the edge of the bed he was in the perfect position to watch each of your reactions to his touch and words which brought him great delight. The way your eyes fluttered and how you bit your lip now and then… Your little sighs were music to his ears but when you couldn't help but close your eyes in pleasure a little later he let out a disappointed exhalation and slapped your cunt all of a sudden.

"Ahh.", you let out and twitched.

"I told you. Look at me." He yanked your thick brown hair back to expose your neck to him and lowered his face so it was close to your skin. You knew what would happen now and when he started to suck on your tanned skin you anxiously buried your hands in his hair. You didn't exactly love when he marked you with bites and bruises. Not because you didn't like the pain, no, in fact you loved it. But you feared that people would see it and felt ashamed of the thought so Daemon didn't do it very often. But tonight he seemingly wanted to do it, perhaps even to punish you and you were way too deep in your subspace to stop him. Everything you cared about was being good for him. Please him. So you patiently laid still as his mouth bit and sucked at your skin but only twitched now and then when his teeth pulled at your neck.

Daemon's hand hadn't left your cunt though and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. His two fingers filling your hole additionally to his dance on your pearl were overwhelming and made you see stars. So soon you felt your high approach and you clenched around his fingers which your husband took as a sign to stop and you let out a cry.

"No, Daemon please." You pulled at his hair and tried to make him lift his head so you could look at him but he denied you and just slapped your cunt in response.

"Shut up.", he mumbled against your hurting skin. "You'll get to release when I tell you to. And I'm not yet satisfied." You desperately whined and shifted which made Daemon softly slap you again but this time on your thigh.

"Stay still. I'll only be harder on you if you can't behave."

Then, after a few more moments he raised his head to proudly watch his work on your neck. You were bleeding a little at two spots and few bruises were already visible on your brown skin which made his heart flutter with possessiveness.

"I want all of these lords to see this. See that you're mine and that this fucking body is mine… Seven hells, you really are the prettiest little girl I've ever fucked."

His finger started to toy with your cunt again and you stopped sulking and sighed loudly. In the meantime his left hand connected with your chest through the fabric of your gown that you still wore and he took your nipples between his fingers.

"Will you look at this…", he growled and you could only watch his lustful gaze in awe. "Perfect fucking tits. Perfect skin and a perfect little cunt."

"Daemon.", you whimpered and his eyes wandered back to your face.

"What?", he scoffed disparagingly and pushed you into the bed more forcefully as you restlessly moved underneath his hand.

"Please I-I want to come."

He laughed out. "I don't care what you want. I just need you to spread your legs and look pretty for me."

You were not content with his answer but didn't have a choice but to unpaitenly wait for his next movements. His two fingers were shoved back inside of you and it didn't take long until you were close to the edge again. But just when you were about to cross it and already felt relieved because you thought he would allow you to reach your high now he stopped again and tears welled in the corner of your eyes.

"N-No.", you cried out. "Yes.", he merely spoke and suddenly manhandeled you on your stomach. "Stop complaining now or I'll find myself a willing whore and leave you here."

Of course you knew that he would never do something like that and yet you shut your mouth. You turned your head to rest it on your side so you could look at him but Daemon grabbed a fistful of your hair and pressed your face into the pillow which you commented with a moan.

"Spread your legs.", he breathed and slipped his hand between your thighs once more and soon his fingers danced on your pearl. You were a mess and couldn't control neither your mind nor your body. Your legs were shaking, your cunt soaking his hand and your mind couldn't think of anything except your husband's hands and how to make him let you come. Pleading and begging, you thought was your best chance.

"Please Daemon. I swear I'll be good, but please let me come.", you moaned when he granted you a little more space and you were able to move your head slightly.

But Daemon really seemed to be mean today and just pressed your head back into the pillow. "Gods, aren't you a desperate little brat. Can't even be patient for a little moment."

You cried out at a particulary well aimed thrust with his fingers that reached a spot deep inside of you.

"Mhmm… Poor girl.", he furthermore said. "Such a pretty poor girl. What a shame you're not in control here."

You whimpered in distress and tried to free yourself from his grip in your hair but you didn't stand a chance and could only get on with it as he denied your orgasm for the third time tonight and did all of it so smugly. You remained still and determined not to give your husband the satisfaction of your pleas so after he had ruined your high Daemon turned you on your back again. His body sitting next to your lying one probably only intensified feeling vulnerable and small next to him because he towered over you. Then his finger toyed with your pearl again which made you gasp for air, his other hand wandered to your mouth and without a warning he shoved two fingers inside of it. You moaned and twirled your tongue around it.

"Good girl.", he growled which made your walls clench. "So obedient and tamed. Just a wild little dornish Princess who needs to be told what to do. That's what you like, mhm?"

You moaned as a reply and sucked on his fingers that laid heavily on your tongue and made you now and then gag. You did all of it instinctively as your mind felt fucked out though he hadn't even freed his cock yet. But that turned out to change soon because after fucking your mouth with his hands for a while and enjoying watching your face tense in pleasure when his finger pressed into your little pearl, he stopped all of it all of a sudden and left you panicky as he stood up to pull down his pants.

"Get on your knees." Your mind felt fuzzy but you had been able to comprehend his words and so you got off the bed to kneel in front of him. His cock stood hard and looked so pretty against his abdomen that it made you open your mouth greedily. But before shoving his cock inside your mouth Daemon walked to the nightstand which made you frown feeling confused. You couldn't see what it was he was doing but once he was standing in front of you again Daemon lowered himself down to you and started to tie up your hair in a braid, mayhaps so he could take hold of your head better.

When he was done he straightened up again and Daemon smirked and felt his heart burning with desire for you. You, his little wife on your knees for him with these big eyes staring up to him. He wished he could save this image in his head for the rest of his life. You still had your dress on and though you had been living in King's Landing for a while now you remained loyal to your house's traditional dressing and wore a characteristic dornish gown. You truly looked like a dornish Princess with your jewelery and your dark features and Daemon's head spinned.

He wrapped his hand around his thick cock and circled your mouth with its tip which made you reach out to touch his cock greedily but he refused you. Daemon just pushed your hand away and moved closer to you.

"Open.", he demanded and looked at your mouth. Of course you obeyed him and let his cock slip inside of your mouth. Daemon seemingly didn't care about letting you adjust slowly because he hit the back of your throat which you commented with a gag. You tried to get away from him and squirmed but his hand had grabbed your hair and forced you to stay in place.

"Ugh uhm.", he made. "Stay still, sweet girl. Just stay still and let me fuck this filthly little mouth of yours.", he hissed and you tried your best to breathe calmly. Daemon breathed heavily as he started to thrust into your mouth as a steady pace. He didn't grant you a second to let you do as you liked but immediately took control over your head to merely use you for his liking.

"You're doing so… good for me, little one." His hand had grabbed your hair and he held you still while hitting the back of your throat over and over again. You struggled every once in a while and coughed but your aim was to hear him praise you so you did whatever he told you. And it worked. You twirled your tongue around his tip which made him exhale loudly and his eyes were connected with your kneeling figure.

"Fuck, just like that. Good girl." You pressed your thighs together and could feel the familiar pulsating spot in your core. After all you hadn't come yet and sucking your husband off only contributed to your lust.

After a while saliva, precum and some tears were rolling down your face and everything about it was messy. Neither of you cared though and Daemon only entered your mouth at a faster pace. Your hands had grabbed his thighs for support and he hummed in pleasure as he felt your tongue circling his tip.

"Yeah. That's what you're good for, mhm? Having your dirty mouth fucked instead of speaking up. That's where you're the prettiest as well." He watched you smugly and your big eyes looked up to him.

"Gods be good.", he growled. "Never had such a willing thing on her knees for me. I'll make sure to reward you, pretty girl."

His thrusts became more sloppy and forceful which was a sign for you that he would orgasm soon but he stopped and pulled your head away from his cock.

"I wanna save my seed for your tight cunt. You're gonna swallow it another time.", he hissed and dragged you up by your hair.

Once you stood in front of him he pushed you onto the bed and didn't waste any time to crawl on top of you. You whimpered, feeling so much lust and desire for him that the tiniest of his movements made your insides burn. Daemon forcefully spreaded your legs so he could lay between them and you were happy to obey. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock and ran its tip through your slit stopping at your pearl.

"You want it?", he mumbled against your cheek.

"Mhmm.", you made with your hands buried in his hair.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes. Please Daemon." But he still didn't give in and instead drew circles around your little nub.

"I'm not sure if you can take it, little one.", he mumbled.

"Yes I can. Please. I can take it.", you panicky cried out though deep down you should know that he wouldn't stop now.

"Don't want to tear you apart, sweet princess.", Daemon whispered and you squeezed his hand that was rested on your waist.

"Please. I want it." Your husband smirked widely because your begging got right to his head. Then he finally thrusted into you mayhaps because he was too eager himself and you both sighed loudly. His thick cock stretched your walls so well and you just loved feeling full.

"Yes.", you whined and your eyes rolled back.

"Feel me deep in your belly, mhm?", he hissed, overwhelmed with pleasure himself. "Feel me hard against your walls? Yes… that's it."

Daemon had immediately started to fuck you at a steady pace and his hips snapped against yours. You let out little sighs and whines and then felt his hand wandering up your body until he wrapped it around your neck and put pressure on it. You breathed croakily and your eyes met his as he held you tightly. You felt your hole flutter because you loved it so much when he choked you and Daemon knew it. So his hand pressed you in the feather bed and simultaneously used it as support to fuck you deep and hard. The mixture drove you to madness and you were a mess underneath him. He always made sure to loosen his grip around your throat now and then so some air could fill your lungs but he didn't show any sign of letting go of you. He restricted your breathing in a way that made you melt in his arms and in Daemon's eyes you could see pure lust.

"Pathetic.", he growled as he squeezed your neck tighter. "All I need to do is stuff your holes and wrap my hand around your throat and I have you whining for me. But you're not supposed to like this. Being hurt. You're just a little slut who gets off on the pain." You moaned and opened your mouth to gasp for air.

"But you're my little slut.", he growled against your cheek. "And now everyone can see that when they look at your neck. You're mine to do with as I like. Whenever I like. A dumb little brat who happens to have a nice tight cunt. So fucking pretty.", he purred and kissed your jawline.

Then he slightly loosened his grip again and you inhaled deeply. Daemon's hand that previously had been around your throat wandered down between where your bodies were connected to rub at your pearl. While you tried to collect yourself you felt him circle the nub that was so swollen and eager for release by now that you squeezed your eyes and whimpered.

"I wanna hear you, princess. Go on, I wanna hear your sweet little pleas." You moved along with his hips and now and then quietly moaned your husband's name. When you reached out to grab the sides of his face though he took hold of your wrists with his hand that wasn't occupied between your legs and pinned them down above your head on the bed. You felt so exposed and vulnerable but it was exactly what you needed and it felt so good. The only thing that you craved at the moment was to finally reach your high after he had denied your orgasm so many times so you begged him through your eyes as both of you were driven closer to the edge with each of his thrusts.

"Please. Please let me come.", you said and it sounded almost inaudible. Daemon sensed that he had fucked you deep into submission and you were nothing but a whining mess by now and suddenly he felt the need to take care of his needy wife rather than degrading you even further so he leaned down to kiss you gently.

"Don't worry, love. You were so amazing for me. I'll let you come. I'll let you soak my cock with your juices." You felt yourself getting teary eyes from feeling so small and now you just wanted Daemon to be close to you so you squirmed as he still had your wrists pinned above your head and your husband understood and actually let go of you.

"It's alright.", he purred. "Relax and let go."

And you did. With one last tight circle around your pearl you felt your insides tense and this warm overwhelming feeling spread all throughout your body. It was an amazing high and you had your eyes widened as pleasure washed over you. His name left your lips over and over again and then Daemon released as well. His seed filled your cunt and he thrusted deep inside of you to make sure it wouldn't drip out. He moaned and closed his eyes and collapsed on top of you.

You both panted heavily trying to recover from the exhausion and then after a while he rolled off you. You immediately reached out to him though and Daemon knew that you needed him close to you now so he pulled you to his bare chest.

"Shhh.", he whispered feeling you breathe fastly against him and soothingly ran a hand over your back and side. "Did so good for me, little girl… ", he said his voice nothing more than a whisper. He held you like this for a while so the both of you could collect yourselves but then he lightly patted your hip.

"I need to get you cleaned, love." You hummed in dissatisfaction wanting nothing more than to fall asleep now next to him.

"I'm sorry, but it's important. Come on, love." Slowly and with a deep frown you lifted yourself and looked at Daemon who had his eyebrows raised. "It's not gonna take long and afterwards I'll cuddle you to sleep, I promise."

You couldn't help but smile with big eyes and he pulled you towards him and guided you off the bed. There was a pot filled with warm water that Daemon had asked the servants to prepare for him every night because there weren't many nights when you were able to take your hands off each other and your husband didn't have the desire to ask a servant to bring water to clean yourselves with every evening so he had ordered them to prepare in advance. It wasn't burning hot anymore but it wouldn't be umcomfortable so Daemon guided you to sit on a chair while he dipped a warm cotton cloth in the water.

"Spread your legs, love.", he whispered and his voice made your head dizzy. You obeyed and he brought the cloth between your legs to clean your cunt. You twitched a little because you were sore and swolled so your husband ran his other hand over your thigh to calm you. Then, when he was finished Daemon removed it from between your legs and took care of himself. He cleaned his cock and after he had put the towels on a shelf so the servants could take them in the morrow Daemon turned to you again and had a soft smile on his face which made your heart flutter. His arms wrapped around your back and he carefully picked you up from the chair. He walked the two of you back to the bed and gently laid you down on your side while crawling to lay on his'.

The rogue prince kept his promise and reached out to pull you to him and you croached against him. You felt so safe like this with his arms holding you and his body covering and protecting you from everything else. His nose was pressed into your dark hair and his hands caressed your still burning skin.

"My sweet girl.", he whispered well aware that it was what you needed after a night like this. He had degraded you, talked down to you and now he made sure to treat you with affection and love.

"You're my sunshine, never forget this alright?" You nodded against him and he gently put his hand to your cheek to turn your head so you were looking at him.

"I love you, darling. You're everything to me." Your mouth was drawn to a smile and Daemon leaned down to kiss you.

"I'll always protect you and make sure you're safe and happy."

"I love you too, Daemon.", you whispered quietly and rested your cheek on his strong chest again. You closed your eyes filled with content and happiness. You loved him and you loved his tender and caring side just as much as his rough and dominant one. This was exactly the perfect mixture because while he fucked you you liked him to be mean and commanding but afterwards…. You melted in his arms and loved hearing his sweet words whispered in your ear. Only for you to hear.

"Sleep, love. You need to rest now and I promise you that I'll hold you all night and all nights to come."

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜