#'You're not even courting him! Slow the fuck down!'

[angeliteeyes]

I promised @cmiru Aven content. And now, I deliver to you

Aventurine x Reader Headcanons

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- I don't care that Hoyo was dumb and gave him plain ass nails. He 100% loves to get them done, especially if you're also into it. On his own, he's more of a manicure kinda guy, but he's more than down for you to do his if you offer. Even if you're a bit clumsy and the polish gets everywhere, he'll take it in stride. Although, he may have to make sure his gloves are on during business meetings.

- You do NOT have to worry about toxic masculinity with this man. Yeah, sure, he's got plenty of overwhelming insecurities bubbling under the surface, but this isn't one of them. He loves the finer things in life, so why should he limit what pleasures he indulges in? Frankly, it's the least life can give him after the shitshow that was his past.

- You would expect him to win every game you two play together, whether it's a card game, board game, or whatever else—as long as it involves luck. I mean, it's him we're talking about. Yet, after some coercion on his part to get you to play, you actually win? Like not every once in a while, you win more rounds than he even does. If you comment on it or start to boast, he'll just sit there and happily take it. Little do you know that this is what he was hoping for, to see you all happy and excited like this. So really, who's the winner here?

- He laughs a lot when he's nervous. The more nervous he is, the louder it tends to be. It gets especially bad if he ended up blurting out something that he immediately regrets or finds embarrassing, which is a lot once he tries to court you. The end result is shit like this:

"Wow, the sunset's really pretty... like you."

"Huh?"

"HAHAHAHA nothing! Nothing..."

Aven. Please. You're not being as sneaky as you think you are.

- Surprisingly not that forward when it comes to flirting with you? At least, not once he's seriously into you and wants to have a genuine relationship. His mind is eternally stuck in gamble mode, which means that he ends up seeing you yourself as a game of luck. And in turn, he sees all the chances for things to go wrong. Maybe he'll go too fast and make you uneasy around him. Maybe he'll take things too slow and you won't realize just how earnest his feelings are. He's used to making bets, but not like this.

- His saving grace is that he's got socializing as a whole down pat, which he uses to his advantage to learn as much about you as possible. What kind of guys you're into, which ones you're not into, insecurities, pet peeves, and so on. This way, he can get his odds of winning your heart up as much as possible before the final bet of asking you out.

- For how much time he's spent worrying about if you like him back, it really doesn't show when he bites the bullet and confesses. If you take a moment to think about it, you can tell pretty easily how rehearsed and planned out the whole ordeal is though. Every line is as sweet as honey, painfully so, and without a hint of shyness or embarrassment in his voice. Don't let his act fool you. There's a reason why he hasn't made direct eye contact with you this whole time, and why his hands you caught shaking are now surreptitiously hiding behind his back. For his sake, pretend you didn't see anything.

- Once he actually has you as his partner, he has no fucking idea what to do. Of course, he's thought about it a lot. His fantasies of going on dates with you, holding you, etc. have been the one thing getting him through all his boring business meetings, after all. But he was so focused on getting you that having you feels like a far-off notion. His search history may or may not have an embarrassing amount of questions like "how to be a good boyfriend" or "things you should never say to your partner" (gotta be prepared).

- It's not too noticeable unless you're already dating but... the way he thinks of you is a little off, or more accurately, how he thinks YOU think of him. He constantly gets you nice, luxurious gifts, spends plenty of money on you, all the works. Yet it feels like a given when he does, as if there's no other option in his mind. Even if you don't ask for a single thing or even say explicitly you don't want material stuff from him, it's like he can't comprehend it. As if he doesn't believe you'd sincerely like him and stay with him without some sort of transactional benefit. If you reassure him enough or refuse his gifts, you might be able to change this for a little... but don't be surprised when he reverts back to his old ways.

- He thrives off of any sort of positive reactions or general affection from you. It helps a lot to ease the neverending fear he has that you're losing interest in him, and believe me when I say he needs that help to stay sane. He won't say it out loud, but he likes you best when you're clingy or possessive. It means you want him and won't run off with some other guy, right? ......Right?

- On a happier note, he loves saying your name every chance he gets. Specifically in a happy sing-song sort of way. He kinda just likes singing to you in general, whether it's soft, romantic melodies or random, jokey stuff to make you laugh.

Imagine him singing Sweet Caroline. Now imagine him very loudly going

BUM BUM BUM

because he knows you'll find it funny. There you go.

- Also. When he laughs way too hard he snorts like a pig and then goes dead silent from shame. Looks at you like this

Unless you also snort when you laugh, in which case congrats!!! You two can live in a barn together happily <3

[neoplatinum]

cowgirls do it better | sophia laforteza

synopsis: it's been 2 years. 2 years since your wife has ripped your heart out as she tried mending it. but now you're in her home court, to finalize the divorce. there's a couple things you need to learn about sophia's life before you leave.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), alcohol, mentions of rehab, tension, marriage troubles, cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, manon, more…

wc: 20.7k

"i'll be here waitin' ever so patiently, for you to snap out of it"

(part 1)

2 years later, lax, los angeles

“spare change?” 

it wasn’t how you imagined touching down in california. the casual mix of lavishness and poverty running like parallel lines through the city.

it’s not a pretty sight. 

you offer the man a couple bucks, hearing his praises of God and thanking you for your generosity. you give him a wave, leaving for your chauffeured ride. 

sophia had managed to send you a ride, with the cliché man dressed in a suit and sign with your name. the driver offers to take your duffel bags, dropping them into the trunk of his car. you hop into the car, a general feeling of restlessness running through your veins.

you swore that you would never step into this city. never let your path cross with hers again. she had her own life out here, and you had your own.

but of course, life has its own way. and you either try to fight against the current, or flow with it.

the ride was tedious at best, long traffic on the 5. sunny sunny california with people swarming. each with their own busy lives and even more complicated stories. you were just another story here, with a past that you were hoping to untangle here.

in an instant the buildings gave way to huge mountains. then you saw it, the large houses on the hills. grand spanish-style mansions, newly developed ultra modern ones with expansive windows. infinity pools on the cliffs. 

you definitely weren’t in your ranch back in new mexico. life moved differently here. you shift a bit in your seat, watching the city fly by in front of you. it's gorgeous, but you’d rather be here under different circumstances. 

the driver pulls into the ritz-carlton. definitely not the motel you booked for yourself. there’s a huge circle driveway with many nice cars parked out front for the valet. dark velvet carpets, almost welcoming you in like a star. you gave yourself a once over, the cowgirl attire wasn’t one that was common here. letting out a long sigh. you missed your idyllic life back at your ranch.

the driver drops off your bags onto a cart gently. he gives a slight nod of the head and soon a bellboy is immediately at your side. ready to push your stuff into the hotel. you’re getting money out of your wallet, when he pushes a hand out.

“ma’am, it’s been paid for. have a good rest of your day.” he leaves you and drives away.

fucking sophia. you curse her in your head. 

“of course she would do this”, you grumble to yourself, walking after the bellboy towards the receptionist’s desk. you can hear small conversations droned out by the large front lobby. there’s staff all around, ready at an instant to cater to any patron’s need. the bellboy continues to wheel the cart forward. the sound of your boots muffled by the velvet carpet.

and you arrive in front of the receptionist’s desk. several staff members rapidly typing on their computers. at the sight of you, a woman looks up, calling you up to the desk.

“good afternoon, i have a reservation.” you speak, grabbing your ID out of your wallet.

“oh perfect! we have you set up in the presidential suite.” the receptionist smiles at you, giving you a knowing look. she goes back to rapidly clicking and typing into her machine. 

“i’m sorry, do you know me?” you look a little lost.

“of course we do, miss laforteza informed us of your stay.” she offers a trained smile.

fucking sophia.

“right, of course…well, thank you.” you’re left a bit annoyed. 

who was she to dictate where you were going?

“here’s your room key and please feel free to call room service at any point. your tab has already been covered.” she explains, sliding over a small folder with your hotel keycard.

you offer an awkward smile to the receptionist before walking off to the elevators. your cowboy heels clack loudly against the waxed floor. 

you smooth out your hair for a second, already feeling annoyed that everything’s been paid for by sophia.

“may i see your card?” the bellboy askes you. you slide him your keycard, watching the way his eyes go wide at it.

he opens the large elevator and taps the keycard to head to the highest level of the hotel. and the elevator shoots up, rapidly climbing the tower where you can gaze out at the open city shrinking below you.

you admire the city for another couple of seconds when the elevator dings, and the doors open. 

you trail after the bellboy, entering the long hallway adorned with a gold and white floor. large oil paintings lining the walls, with individual lamps illuminating each one.

it’s starting to dawn on you that maybe you really don’t know sophia. you don’t know how she can afford this lavishness, enough to book you the presidential suite.

he opens the large doors to the suite for you, opening to the largest room you’ve ever stepped into. floor to ceiling windows peering over the city. a gorgeous large round table with a bouquet centerpiece. 

beautiful couches and sectionals just in the main area that you’ve walked into. you can spot at least three doors that must lead into their individual rooms.

“wow, i’ve never stepped in here.” the bellboy gives a whistle as he places your bags by the couches. he gives the room a once over before turning to you. “anything else i can help you with ma’am?”

“uh, no i’m all good.” you reply. and he’s starting to walk away, pushing the luggage cart. “wait! here, take this.” 

you hand him a 20, to which he smiles and happily pockets. closing the door behind him. 

and now you’re left in the presidential suite in a ritz-carlton.

you walk around, taking in the room, opening doors to more living rooms and bedrooms. a large california king with softer than silk duvets. the showers are humongous, enough to fit at least ten people inside. a beautiful vintage ceramic bathtub that is seated near the window. you eventually open to the balcony, a large infinity pool rushing with water. perfectly shaped hedges off to the side.

you can’t help but feel this is too much for you. this lavish suite is definitely worth more than your entire ranch and some.

you take off your boots by the door, getting situated in your suite. admiring the amount of closet space that’s available.

when you suddenly get a call.

“hello?” you prop the phone on your shoulder. trying your best to continue unpacking your duffel bags.

“hi! this is sarah from davidson & partners. i have you scheduled for a meeting at 1pm tomorrow, just calling to confirm.”

you roll your eyes, what a great way to get introduced to the state. 

“yes, i’ll be there.” 

“perfect, see you then!” and then she hangs up. 

you tuck your phone away, this was going to be a long trip. 

maybe you could take yourself sightseeing while you were here. trying to get the heavy feelings off your mind. 

trying to get a certain woman out of your mind.

you walk out the suite, ready to get out of this over-the -top suite when you hear a voice call out. 

“hey, neighbor!” a woman’s voice comes out light and inviting. you swivel your head to a gorgeous woman. dressed like she just stepped out of her nearest tailor shop. a gorgeous blazer and pencil skirt that fitted her perfectly.

you blink a bit before collecting yourself, walking up to her with a hand out.

“hi, nice to meet you.” you offer, she shakes your hand. warm and smooth fingers that slide into yours.

“i’m manon, have i seen you before?” she asks, presenting a charming smile, pearly white teeth and sharp eyes to pair.

“probably not, it’s my first time in california.” you reply, tucking your hand into your belt again.

“are you here to do touristy things? or would you like the inside scoop?” manon winks a bit, clearly amused by your out of state attire and look. 

you don’t miss how she’s given you at least two top to bottom scans.    

“i’m figuring it out…” you gesture aimlessly. then a thought runs through, “you recommend a place to enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“there’s an absolutely gorgeous beach not too far from here.” she grabs a quick paper from her hotel pad, jotting down the directions for you.

“thanks, manon.” you pocket the slip, “i’ll see you around.”

you give a quick wave, and she waves back too.

“buy me a drink sometime!” manon shouts before closing her hotel door.

you descend down the very fast elevator and are about to grab a ride when the valet walks up to you, keys in hand.

“hi! miss laforteza informed us you might need a car during your stay. here’s the car she requested.” he gives you a bright smile, dropping a pair of keys into your hands.

and you swivel your head to a cherry red vintage jeep wrangler. open chassis and red rims to match. 

jesus, she even remembered your dream car.

“i, thank you.” you wave the guy off and he heads back to his stand. your eyes drift to the car again, a clean exterior and interior. you give a little tire check with your boot and examine the engine.

it’s well maintained, clean oil and no sign of leaks.

she did her research, color you impressed. she even remembered the small details. your favorite scent of car freshener dangling by the mirror. you hop in the car, engine rumbling smoothly, it’s obvious this car had a good owner.

you pull off the lot and head to a beach. the wind in your hair and you can hear the seagulls cawing by the ocean. it’s a gorgeous sight, rays of sun peeking into the car. 

you gradually come to a parking spot, locking the car and tossing the keys in hand as you walk away. the beach is looking magnificent, there are some people playing beach volleyball and others still tanning. 

meanwhile, you’re in your cowgirl getup, a little too dressed for the occasion. peeling off your boots and rolling your pants far enough to keep them from getting wet.

you can feel the sand in between your toes. the sand warmed by the sun. and then you step forward, walking towards the ocean and pushing sand behind you.

the ocean is beautiful, gorgeous small waves crashing against the shore. leaving behind darker wet sand. you let the wave crash against your feet, cold ocean water as a contrast against the warm sand.

it’s definitely gorgeous out here, you can’t remember the last time you were by the ocean, maybe when you were a kid?

letting nature continue to move between your toes. water running around your legs and retreating back to the ocean.

then a dog runs past you, darting across the waters in front of you. tongue hanging out his mouth as he chases after a small rubber ball.

he catches it in his mouth and darts back to his owner. a kid no older than ten and cheering his dog on. you smile warmly at the scene unfolding. 

his dog barks loudly, awaiting another throw to which the young boy launches the ball forward.

“go, max!” you hear him shout, and the dog’s already leaped into the air, mouth open as he grabs snatches it out the air. the young boy rejoices when the dog turns around.

it reminds you of charlie, his beautiful eyes staring at you whenever you fill his bowl, or pet him right behind the ears.

maybe it’s slipped past you, maybe in this life you don’t get what you want.

instead you focus out, looking at the sun casting on the water, ripples that look like diamonds dancing on the surface. you can spot some yachts out far away, large cargo ships in the distance.

the water continues to splash against your legs, you feel at peace here. there’s nothing else but you and nature right now. 

you let your shoulders drop, the tension from having to come to california has weighed on your mind. you try to let yourself relax for a while, watching the ocean as it comes and goes.

--

“no lara, listen to me, it’s not like that.” sophia rambles on the phone, trying to grab a smoothie from her fridge.

“yeah, and how would you describe this? hollywood star sophia laforteza seen walking into davidson & partners. literally the best known divorce firm in all of california.” lara is mocking her, reading off a fake tmz headline. “maybe there’s a secret life sophia’s hiding?”

sophia rolls her eyes at the comment, “it’s going to be fine lara. i’ll be discreet.” sophia uncaps the smoothie, drinking it as her friend continues to express her worries.

“discreet isn’t exactly your style sophie.” lara laughs out. 

and sure she may be right, but sophia could be discreet, right?

“nuh uh, you’re probably trying to convince yourself you can be discreet. and the answer is no.

sophia’s jaw drops. “i can be discreet!” 

“you’re about as discreet as a peacock. now listen, what you need to do is meet her somewhere else. somewhere out the public eye.” lara shuffles a bit over the phone, and sophia sets her smoothie down.

“like where?” sophia’s waiting for a magical answer.

“somewhere like uh…what about her hotel?” lara lets it roll off her tongue and immediately sophia feels like a train crash.

“that is the worst idea i’ve heard yet. and you’ve convinced me to go to an award show hungover.” sophia laughs a bit.

“you booked the room, the chauffeur, and the car. i think you’re allowed to go inside.”

“she’s going to shoot me in between my eyes before i open the door.” sophia picks up the smoothie again, grimacing at the taste.

“no she wouldn’t! she married you.” lara explains.

“yeah, that was before she found out i had a fiancé.” sophia rolls her eyes again.

“well, pseudo-fiancé, maybe you could profess your undying love and make more babies, because this one is so darn cute!” lara coos at the toddler. “yes you are! yes you are!”

“lara please, she hates my guts, practically told me so when she ran out on me.” sophia laments. 

the feelings still burn like an open wound.

“so she hates you but you still kept her kid?” lara questions.

“i still love her, you know that.” sophia sighs out.

its quiet for a second.

“your mom is so dramatic isn’t she?” lara’s voice has gone up in pitch, playing with sophia’s kid. “yes she is! yes she is!”

sophia can hear her baby babbling and squealing in delight. “anyways, don’t meet her at the firm, paps are watching you like a hawk.”

“you don’t have to remind me.” sophia lets out with a sigh. 

there used to be a time where she could just exist, without worry of the public. but those days are long gone.

suddenly there’s rustling sounds and a loud wail from the speakers.

“uh oh, your baby just crapped her pants. say bye bye now!” sophia can hear the lara’s poor imitation just above her baby’s wails. “auntie lara signing off, go win her back!”

and then the line hangs up, sophia doesn’t even have time to say goodbye.

“fuck.” 

sophia throws her head in her hands.

--

“hello?” you’re half dressed, wearing shorts and a tank with your hair all over. still rubbing your eye as you try to sharpen enough.

“hi, good morning! it’s sarah from davidson’s, we spoke yesterday. mind if we come up? 

“huh? yeah sure, come on up.” you speak into the hotel phone. half drowsy when you look over and see 7 am flashing on the alarm clock.

you stumble a bit as you approach the door, hearing quick knocks against the door.

“coming, just one second!” 

you rush back to slide on some longer pants and head for the door, unlocking it to the sight of two very well dressed lawyers. both with polite smiles on their face.

“sorry to bother you so early, but it’s urgent.” the woman states and you let them in. 

immediately they place their briefcases on the table. taking out pens, recorders, legal pads and laptops.

behind them, two security guards walk in. they immediately begin scanning the suite. large devices that are moving up and down the rooms. they approach each window and immediately pull the blinds, covering the outside light from coming in. 

it’s like the secret service securing the west wing.

“hey, what are they doing here?” you ask, still yawning a bit.

“that’s our intel security team, we need to ensure this space isn’t tapped since we’re away from our firm. it’s standard protocol.” sarah is very direct, the smile disappears off her face as she sips on her coffee.

her counterpart is rapidly typing on his laptop, flipping through binders like a madman, but with precision behind each move.

“is this really necessary? it’s just me here.” you ask, a little perturbed at the intrusion.

“have you heard of brad and angelina, or bill and melinda? well those clients pay us, pardon my language, a shit ton of money to keep their divorces private.” sarah continues, not missing a beat as she types on her own laptop.

“it’s in our and your best interest that we follow procedures.”

“right…sorry for the offense ma’am.” you offer back.

“none taken. just doing our jobs.” she continues to drink her coffee. and suddenly the door is closed behind you, gone are the two mysterious men that stepped in.

“john, intel team left, place is clean, put that in the notes.” sarah speaks to the other lawyer, rapid typing ensuing.

“i thought we were meeting at the firm?” you ask, letting your arms hang on the back of a chair.

sarah looks away from her screen.

“mrs. laforteza requested to move up the meeting and in a discreet location, so we’re here to set up in time for her arrival.”

“here? as in this room?” you ask, the shock making you stand up taller.

“yes, this room. she’ll be here in…” sarah looks down at her watch, “15 minutes, well 14 now.”

“15 minutes?” you’re wide eyed and stunned, rushing off to the bathroom. trying to freshen up before seeing sophia again. 

you can feel your heart hammering as you brush your teeth. memories flowing through you as you wash your face. you try to calm your clammy and shaky hands.

you can still hear the hushed whispers from the lawyers, 

putting on a shirt over your head, you step out, still looking tired. but definitely more presentable than how you woke up.

you’re ready to drop your shoulders when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

shit.

you smooth your hair out once more and walk towards the door. giving a final breath and opening it.

the light from the windows illuminate sophia. she’s got a cap, sunglasses, dark clothes and no makeup in sight. 

she doesn’t look like the woman that broke your heart.

you gesture to her to walk in, not even able to greet her. she gives a nod when she walks in. immediately you smell the familiar scent of her perfume. you inhale the scent enough that make your heart beat quicker.

it pulls you in, like it always has. truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever be tired of the scent.

eyes on the ground as she walks away, trying not to show how affected you are. even without a single touch she has your insides all shaken up. 

you follow behind her, taking notice of her slow steps. like she’d rather just run out the door at a moment’s notice. 

sophia pulls a seat on the other side, dropping her purse lightly. your eyes watch her intently, like you’re tracking her. after some searching, she takes out a folder filled with documents, all tabbed with notes. you watch her separate them into piles, hand meticulous and deft.

sarah and her counterpart watch her as well.

sophia finally settles in her seat. and gives a nod to the lawyers.

“welcome to the first divorce settlement conference.” sarah starts, “we will begin recording…now.”

you watch her press a button on the recorder. the room’s feeling a bit too stuffy now. it’s really here, the dreaded divorce that you tried to put away, just like the stubborn feelings you had.

she gives you a quick glance, just enough to commit your face to memory now. your cheeks are more sunken and those dark circles spell trouble. 

in you, there’s a war against what you want and what you need. you listen to what you need. barely sparing sophia a glance, she doesn’t deserve it. in your head she didn’t deserve any of you, but in your heart…it still beat for her.

“now let’s get the structure of these meetings understood. we will be discussing property division, child support, and spousal support if applicable.” sarah continues.

“this is my colleague, who will be here for note-taking as well as shifting responsibilities as needed.”

you and sophia both give a firm nod.

“let’s start with property division. under page 2, section 5a.” sarah begins, flipping to a new section of her binder.

you both follow suit with your own copies. eyes reaching past all the legal jargon.

“the ranch in new mexico, measured at twenty acres. including livestock, house, and the barn.”

“that’s mine.” you speak up, and sophia snaps her eyes up to you, crossed arms that loosen at the sight of you.

she hasn’t heard your voice in all this time, a pained reminder of the last words you said, correction: shouted at her.

“mrs. laforteza?” sarah questions.

“that’s hers, and sophia, just sophia.” sophia replies.

“sophia, and thank you.” the lawyers are scribbling and typing in their laptops.

it’s strange how calm the room is. four people here to settle a divorce in the presidential suite of a ritz-carlton.

you grab a sip of water, watching sophia through your eye line. 

she’s a bit dazed, eyes that seem so lost. and maybe if you weren’t so heartbroken, you would offer some comfort.

“great, next is the large 1930s spanish-style mansion in the hollywood hills, measured at seven thousand square feet. 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms.” sarah continues.

your eyes nearly bulge out.

“that’s hers.” you speak up, coughing a bit as you clear your throat.

“sophia?”

“yes, that is mine.” sophia shifts her legs a bit.

you sink into your seat, this was going to be a long meeting. 

the hours continue, discussions of property grew to be extensive. you didn’t realize how much needed to be accounted for. 

as well as revealing how much money sophia had accumulated. the star was definitely well-paid. 

and you were slowly realizing how small you felt.

there was nothing comparable to the net worth of sophia laforteza. you once felt so confident and proud of your ranch, a safe haven for you both. but now you feel like maybe you weren’t a good enough provider.

maybe that’s why she left you.

you snap out of your spiral when the lawyers call for a break. giving time for a short walk and stretch. 

you do notice that sophia’s been unfocused. blank stares as the lawyers discuss among themselves.

“would anyone like room service?” you ask into the air. and the two lawyers walk over to you.

“coffee and a bagel with cream cheese please.” you scribble it down.

“would you like anything?” you turn to the other lawyer.

“also coffee, but i’ll have a muffin and apple.” you jot down their orders, and writing another line as you call room service.

room services picks up immediately at the first ring, a woman helping you get all the orders down with efficiency. 

sophia’s still in a daze, her hand slightly shaking in her lap.

you try not to notice it, especially given your now relationship with her. 

when room service arrives, you thank the server. offering a tip as he exits the room again. the lawyers are eager to have something in their stomach. 

you can imagine the hours are also taking a toll on them.

but your mind is focused on the other person in the room. you walk towards sophia with a bowl of fruit and yogurt and a glass of water in hand.

placing it down in front of her, causing her to focus again. a light gasp when she sees your face so close. 

“this is for you, i bet you haven’t had anything today.” you say softly.

it’s not supposed to mean anything, just a simple gesture. but to sophia, she feels like she could crumble.

sophia nods firmly, a bit too firmly. its like the words won’t come out her throat. like she isn’t still madly in love with you.

“excuse me for a second.” sophia makes a quick dash for the bathroom. and you watch her retreating body disappear behind the door.

both lawyers stare at the door as well, giving you a quick look before returning to their conversation.

what you don’t know is that sophia’s sobbing. crying into her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sound.

how could she ever act like she isn’t completely and utterly in love with you? how you still stir up feelings in her body that make her want to reach out to you?

how she had to give herself a ten minute pep talk in her car before stepping out.

God, she was a wreck. 

she gives herself a minute. just one. enough to pull herself together, broken sobs and pain shooting in her heart. 

you stand by the door, caught between wanting to knock and wanting to give her space.

“fia?” you ask. “you okay?”

you faintly hear it, a sob that’s trying to break out of her throat. 

“i’ll be-i’ll be out in a second!” she tries her best to sound normal. rapidly wiping tears off her face and giving herself a quick check in the mirror.

thank God for waterproof mascara. 

she looks presentable, just enough to cover the traces of her tears. with a shaky breath she moves for the door, opening it to you on the other side.

your worried eyes that look too warm, in her mind a flash of angry eyes hit her. it reminds her why she’s here. why you ran out on her with resentment in your eyes.

but you stand here, unmoving and looking into her. and she nearly breaks again, digging her nail into her thigh, trying to keep the tears at bay. long enough to get through this.

you want to ask her what’s wrong but she gives you a controlled smile. one that lets you know she doesn’t want to speak about it. and she doesn’t, instead she walks back to her chair. 

calmly sitting again and scooping yogurt into her mouth. you pull the chair next to her, resuming the silent war between both of your conflicting feelings.

the lawyers both return to their chairs. and offer each other a look when sarah speaks.

“thank you both for a productive meeting, we will meet again in two days.” 

sarah and her counterpart gather all their belongings again. tucked away neatly into their briefcases. both offering a handshake before leaving. 

you shake their hands and thank them for their time. watching them until they close the door behind them. 

then you’re left with sophia. 

you’re left with sophia.

you turn towards her, watching her pack her purse with all the documents she had laid out. she’s in a slight hurry, you can tell by the frazzled eyes and jittery hands. 

she also realizes that she’s left with you.

you stand off to the side, silently watching her. she then shifts back, pushing the chair in and she then tries walking out.

you feel yourself panic, something unsettling erupting in your stomach. 

“thanks for everything. you know, the hotel, the car, everything.” you speak quickly. “you didn’t have to.”

“you’re welcome. it’s really no problem.” sophia’s voice is shaky. 

she waits a beat. 

“it’s nice. to see you, i mean.”

and without another word she walks out the door, closing the door behind her.

you sink into yourself, feeling yourself cringe at the comment. you felt so stupid speaking up.

--

“so spill, how was it?” lara lounges on sophia’s couch, sparkly eyes as she’s trying to pry. 

sophia gives a sigh before joining her on the couch.

“it was…amicable.” sophia didn’t want to talk about how she broke down crying in your bathroom. how you reminded her of her wedding day. 

she’d rather shove all those feelings down.

instead sophia recounts, you looked familiar. too skinny in her mind. you definitely lost weight, she had hoped it wasn’t because of her.

“amicable? your wife hates your guts and she’s amicable!” lara exclaims. 

“it’s not like a movie, you know? we may be actresses but that’s not her.” sophia continues to explain.

“what about you? i bet you were shaking like a chihuahua.” lara spoke.

“i was not! i was very professional.” sophia exclaims. “she was too.”

lara groans, “that’s not fun!”

“divorce settlements aren’t meant to be fun.” sophia explains.

“not as fun as you, right?” lara lifts anna into the air, the baby squealing loudly.

“hand her to me.” sophia opens her arms, and then the baby is propped in her lap. “i saw your mama today, she’s still very pretty.”

the baby babbles a bit, “mama.”

“yes, your mama. she’s lost some weight.” sophia says gently, rocking her toddler slowly. “i’ll have to make her some sinigang.”

anna claps her hands together in excitement.

“okay, this is really sweet, but you’re making me sad.” lara speaks up, and sure sophia’s thought about it. “and i don’t get sad, so go make up with her.”

“i can’t. and you know why.” 

“fuck him! he doesn’t get to dictate your life just because his daddy’s got a big name.” lara scoffs, grabbing anna again.

sophia shakes her head. in an ideal world thomas never existed, or any kind of person like thomas. 

in her ideal life she had you, anna, and grew together. maybe had a couple anna’s with you.

but she’s dug herself in this hole, and she needs to dig herself out.

--

“mrs. laforteza, hey, it’s good to hear from you.” you dig a stick a little further in the sand. 

you stare into the sand, drawing small circles. 

“hi dear, how are you?” mrs. laforteza’s warm voice comes through the phone. 

it’s comforting. she’s like a second mom. you basically grew up in her house.

eating dinner with her, cleaning dishes, helping mr. laforteza with ranch work. it felt like you were always meant to be in this family.

“it went okay…” you drag out, thinking about your stay here. 

the divorce settlement meeting was tense, and its driven you away from the hotel. the room feeling suffocating despite how big it was. you keep feeling this unsettling feeling that something’s wrong.

something’s wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

so instead, you’ve been spending many hours outside, enjoying the summer sun. trying to find peace with life as it is, especially with the divorce coming.

“just okay? you don’t sound like someone who is okay.” she speaks.

you can hear charlie’s pants through the speakers.

“i’ll be alright, it’s really nice out here.” you look out to the ocean, squinting as you look at the rays of light. “i get why she came out here.”

“i’m sure.” 

mrs. laforteza has always been sweet, trying to be as gentle as she can. knowing that her daughter has broken your heart. “she’s trying to fly us out soon.”

“yeah you both would really like it here.”

maybe a part of you is stuck, stuck waiting for some big reveal that sophia didn’t mean to crack your heart.

you tried moving on. all the worries, pain and anguish slowly dying within you. but some days the feelings overwhelm you, and it’s like you’re back at square one.

“listen dear, you’ll always be a daughter to us, married or not.” mrs. laforteza continues and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “never forget that.”

you nod but then realize how she wouldn’t see that. 

“of course ma’am, thank you for always being there.”

“oh honey, we’ll always be here.” 

you hear charlie's yips as he chases after a ball that sophia’s dad is throwing.

“you think she meant it?” you ask into the open air.

“meant what, dear?”

“you think she meant to break my heart?” you feel like retracting the question as soon as it came out of your mouth. 

who in their right mind asks their mother-in-law this?

“i don’t think she meant to. i think she wanted to save what she could, and your heart paid the price.” you listen to the faint noise of a rocking chair as she continues.

“sometimes, i wish she never liked me back.” you say it and truly you don’t mean it. 

but it stings a little less to imagine a world where you weren’t as foolishly in love.

“honey, that girl loved you the second she laid eyes on you.” mrs. laforteza laughs out loud.

“when i saved her from those coyotes?” you let out a choked laugh at the memory.

“she came running back the ranch, screaming her head off about how you protected her and looked so cool.”

you wipe a tear from your eye. 

“what else did she say?”

“she told me she was going to marry you someday. swore on the Bible she would.” 

you still your movement. 

“did she?” you ask, your heart is blossoming in that way that your brain hates. hates how she still had you wrapped around her finger.

“sure did.”

you let the silence hang in the air. listening to seagulls and soft waves crashing against the shore. trying to think about your next steps, what life would mean for you once you’re really divorced.

suddenly a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“hey, neighbor!” a familiar light voice comes through, you tilt your head just enough to see her. large glasses and a beach shawl covering a bikini set. she looks ready to enjoy the beach. you give a light wave to her, as she sits next to you. a large grin on her face.

“hey, it’s good to see you.” you offer, and she nods a bit, watching you, observing the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“i would say the same, but you seem a bit…what’s the word? sulky?” manon shrugs, a bit of amusement in her face as she watches you lean back in shock.

“i am not sulky!” you exclaim, hand on your heart like you’re clutching a pearl necklace.

“then what is this?” she points at your six pack of beer, a couple already popped open and empty, grabbing one to open.

“this is…leisure…” you gesture to the space around you. she gives you that look, the kind of look your friend gives you when they know you’re full of shit.

“you’re not convincing anyone with those eyes.” she points out, taking a sip of beer with you, a slight grimace at the taste. 

“what about my eyes?” you take another swig, looking back onto the shoreline, watching someone swim out.

“sad, like you have a thousand yard stare kind of sad.” she laughs to herself as she explains it. 

and really if you had to guess, maybe you do given everythings that’s been happening to you.

“i’m just…dealing with a lot.” you explain, she takes another sip of her beer, despite the taste.

“yeah? tell me about me.” she urges you on, nudging your shoulder a bit. and really life has been so down, you’re more than compelled to spill your secrets out.

“the reason i'm here,” you gesture at the area around you. “is because my wife is divorcing me. i’m here to settle the divorce.” 

and clearly that wasn’t the response manon was expecting. she’s taken aback, slowly digesting and trying to find the words to comfort you.

“wow, that’s a lot. yeah i don’t blame you for doing this.” she comments, trying her best to lend an ear. you give her a nod, thanking her just for the company. 

it’s nice to have someone who knows nothing about her past, a clean slate.

“is it her fault?” manon asks you, genuine interest in her eyes.

“i think so.” you offer. manon doesn’t press further, eyes also watching the ocean, sitting quietly together and admiring the sunset.

“well, to a clean and quick divorce!” manon lifts her glass, you lift yours too. making a light clinking sound as you both sit in silence once more.

--

this was not how sophia wanted to start her morning.

“sophia! my lovely fiancé! to what do i owe the pleasure?” his slimy voice coming through the speakers.

sophia’s already burning. a hot heat of anger spreading through her nervous system. 

a reaction to the sickly headlines funneling out of drama journals and anyone that cared remotely about sophia’s career.

“thomas. getting caught in ibiza with supermodels?” sophia bites out, her manager sitting beside her. tablet in hand as they scroll through the damning evidence.

“easy tiger…i was just celebrating my birthday. you know how those weekends go.” sophia can hear his cockiness through the phone. “which, by the way, you should’ve posted about, it’s pr 101.”

sophia wants to scream. she has not worked this hard in her career to be seen as anything less than a star in her own right.

this man is going to drag her reputation down with his.

“happy belated…but learn to cover your bases, asshole.” 

“stop acting like my mother.” his voice turns into that disgusting condescending tone. 

the one he puts on when he thinks he’s better than you. 

“more importantly, how’s the divorce settlement going?”

it grates against sophia’s ears. 

“it’s going well, don’t get into my business.” sophia scoffs.

“well, then don’t get into mine.” he retorts back. 

sophia continues to try to not curse him out. her manager looking at her in worry, all sophia can do is try to think about happy thoughts.

happy thoughts about anna or you.

he coughs a bit.

“you better attend my dad’s birthday gala next weekend.” 

she thinks about it, thinks about how she’d rather be at home with anna. but duty calls.

“fine. send over the details.”

he hangs up, sending an address and time. and sophia’s losing her mind all over again.

shouting at no one in particular about how much of a jackass thomas is. how his incessant need for the party lifestyle is going to ruin sophia’s life.

she needs a way out, and she needs it soon.

--

this wasn’t how sophia wanted to plan her evening. she wanted to be at home, a glass of wine in hand as she watches some silly tv show for the fiftieth time.

she’d play with anna and lounge outside the backyard. or have a lazy night swim.

but here she is in her long cocktail dress, a jacket adorned with pearls to match. it’s enough to stay afloat at the party, enough to be noticed, but also not stand out. 

with all the old executives and their much-too-young trophy wives on display, sophia wants to leave.

thomas has already turned on his flashy smiles at his dad’s friends. each of them giving respectable nods, just enough to acknowledge him, but not enough to respect him.

he tried parading sophia around, introducing her as his fiancé, to which many seemed disinterested. some women even looked at her in pity, but she held her head high enough.

luckily she spotted lara not too far away.

“oh thank god you’re here, these people are so boring.” lara starts, giving everyone an evil eye before smiling at sophia.

sophia feels exactly the same.

“i hate going to these. no one cares anyways.” sophia continues, and honestly her life has been feeling like that lately.

she’s still a very high profile star, but with the status comes having to attend these more than necessary events. to mingle and be amongst those that run the industry, it gets boring to a point.

“how’s anna?” lara asks, softly tilting her champagne flute around. 

that lights up sophia’s eyes.

“so cute, the babysitter just sent this photo.” and sophia shows the young toddler, sound asleep and tucked into her bed. with her mouth hanging slightly open.

“aw that munchkin, she’s so adorable.” lara coos at the photo.

“i know, yesterday she was trying to open all the kitchen cabinets.” sophia shows another photo of the young girl, wide eyed and caught by sophia’s camera.

sophia reminisces on the photos, scrolling to one that made her heart clench. 

it was a picture of a frayed photo of you and sophia, much younger and much stupider.

silly marks on each other’s faces and stickers all over your shirt. sophia’s wearing your cowboy hat and you’re wearing the pair of boots she gifted you. both seated on mr. laforteza’s truck bed.

lara gives a quick look at sophia, watching the way she pauses herself. admiring memories of her youth that she left behind.

lara looks a little closer.

“anna has her eyes.” lara points her finger down, “the way she scrunches them with her smiles. it’s just like hers.”

“really? i never noticed that.” sophia zooms in on you, the way you smile so hard that your eyes disappear. 

anna does the same whenever she’s finished with her food, or accidentally knocks over a cup of milk.

sophia feels like she could throw up at the fact. 

she’s been trying so hard to keep the memories of you alive in anna’s life. showing her old photos that she stole from the ranch house. reminding her of her other parent.

enough to make anna realize that you are indeed her mama. and sometimes sophia thinks she can recognize you, or maybe she’s just repeating the words back.

when really you always existed in anna.

“i think you should tell her about anna.” it’s not accusatory or said without knowing the context between you two. 

lara had been the first friend sophia made when coming to california. two girls with dreams in their heads and hopes in their hearts. to “make it” out here in hollywood. discussing their dreams and deepest fears of what makes them human. bonding over that shared desire for greater.

so really, lara understood her. understood how the fear of rejection from you would break sophia all over again. 

she saw it firsthand when sophia returned to california. she wasn’t the same, barely was able to pull herself long enough to go outside. 

and when sophia first got her morning sickness, lara was the one waiting in the bathroom with her. waiting for the pregnancy tests together.

“i want‐i want to. but i’m scared. i’m scared she’ll realize that she wants nothing to do with me or anna.” 

sophia speaks truthfully, it broke everything in her when you told her to leave. she had never seen you so angry and upset, like a caged deer, trying so hard to escape. 

she couldn't bear to hear how you don’t want her anymore. her heart would crack open again.

and what if you didn’t want to be involved in anna’s life?

“but what if she did? anna deserves a chance to know her.” lara continues, a sad warm smile on her face. “they both deserve the chance to be in each other’s life.”

it’s not like sophia hadn’t contemplated this before. each prenatal visit making her cry all over again. the ultrasounds, the first heartbeat, even the delivery.

she wished you would just burst through the doors, rushed comments about traffic running late and hold her hand as she went through this scary pregnancy. comforting words and soft affection as she went through the trimesters.

she wouldn’t trade anything for anna. she just wish you were here to experience it with her.

lara lets the topic go, it’s hard to see her closest friend so caught in between worlds. so much of her life she sacrificed and only to be left unsatisfied. it’s heartbreaking, and she hopes sophia will get her happiness back.

to much of the dismay of sophia, thomas’s father began speaking. welcoming all the guests through loudspeakers in his mansion. attracting the attention of all guests, but sophia’s heard this speech at every previous party before. how he owes all his accomplishments to a very special mentor of his. and then he gives that short anecdote about being a young and bright-eyed filmmaker. hoping to get his projects out into the world.

with a slight tug of her arm, lara pulls her away from the crowd, all entranced by the story.

“he’ll probably go on for another hour, come on, let’s go see if there’s some good liquor.” lara smirks. dragging sophia away from the main room, soon they’re walking across marbled flooring. large doors leading into the big pool out back, fountains pouring into the pool.

lara eventually pulls them into a large room. large dark oak bookshelves lining the back wall. each filled with hard covered books lining each shelve. a single lamp illuminating the room. large arabian carpets covering the floor. a heavy wooden desk sat close to the bookshelves. a fit study room for a world-renowned director.

“this camera probably costs more than a house.” lara points out the giant standing camera in the other corner of the room, and sophia would agree. 

it drives her insane how much of thomas’ life was just handed to him, the opulence, the trust fund, all of it simply because he was born into the family. sometimes sophia wished thomas never existed. didn’t use his unlimited power for evil, to manipulate and control the weak.

“shit, sophia. come look at this.” sophia walks towards lara, finding her looking at an open drawer, a manila folder already opened on the table. “S.L.” in bold letters stamped on the front.

images spill out from the manila folder, each one from different events that sophia has attended. either red carpets or pictures from her acting. it’s haunting, it’s like she’s being watched. 

and then it gets worse. 

there’s photos of her child, anna running around in sophia’s backyard. photos of sophia lifting her kid in the air and spinning her around. it makes sophia sick to her stomach. 

“lara, lara…” sophia turns to lara with tears in her eyes, shock making her ears pop and tinnitus ringing. her blood has run cold and so has her body, a slight shaking as she steps away from the table, away from the contents of her private life being captured.

“sophia, it’s okay, come on focus on me.” lara’s trying to stabilize a very lost sophia, her eyes keep darting everywhere. there’s thoughts flowing faster than water down an edge of a cliff.

“he knows. he knows anna.” sophia can feel her breath getting shorter, it’s harder to breath in deeper without feeling like she’ll hyperventilate. and lara’s trying her best to calm her down. but fuck if this isn’t a slap in the face.

she tried so hard to protect anna, going as far as to disappear to give birth. not even letting thomas near her or to see her. it was her way of protecting anna and protecting you.

“what else is in there? i bet that jackass has other dirt on me.” sophia asks through harder breaths. the sudden shock and stress is constricting her airways. 

lara’s searching through the folder, eventually dumping it all out on the table. and out flys two contracts.

“it’s your acting contract.” lara’s quickly reading through it, familiar clauses from her very own. the clauses of work, management, pr image, conditions of pay. all of it laid out and then lara lands on a tab. highlighted in orange and circled in red pen. conditions of pr image and the ability for the company to manage sophia’s pr image if it were to slip into a scandal. and possible pr management rights reserved for the company. 

“hold on…” lara flips through the rest of the contract, finding nothing else out of the ordinary. “something’s not right.”

sophia’s holding onto the edge of the hardwood desk, trying to count to four in her head during each breath, slowly bringing down her heart rate. she can barely hear lara through the ringing. 

“did you know about this?” lara looks at sophia, another contract in hand. 

“what?” sophia barely gets out, straightening herself when lara is breezing through the contract.

“it’s thomas. the trust. the inheritance. all of it.” lara continues to read through the pages, eyes moving left and right. “sophia. his father’s trust! the marriage, it’s all for inheritance.” 

lara turns the page over to sophia, and even with her half breaths she can see the clauses: public-facing equal, married by 30 years of age, inheritance. 

all of it is slowly piecing together. the urgency for the divorce, the sudden interest in sophia’s career. the manipulation and coercion of marriage was all to guarantee the inheritance of his father’s net worth. eventually he would secure his position to acquire his father’s businesses. 

how could sophia be so stupid?

all because of a stupid clause that sophia signed when she was still a bright-eyed actress hoping to land her first big role in hollywood. only because she didn’t hire a lawyer to read the fine print of all the clauses in her contract. 

it had cost her autonomy and the disrepair of her relationship with you. and if sophia had to guess, he was going to drag anna into it too. some sick leverage to get this marriage on the fast-track to secure his position.

all because she signed to a slimy acting agency run by thomas’ father. and all because thomas got his hands on her acting contract.

“i’m going to strangle him lara.” sophia gets out her phone, taking photos of the contract. every single photo or page in the manila folder all documented now in her phone.

“sophie, let’s be smart about this okay?” lara starts, already taking photos of her own as a backup. “we need a way out, we have to do this smart and quick.” 

sophia nods.

“you have dirt on him right now, this contract, the coercion of marriage, his scandals. you know all about it.”

lara continues, thinking about how to use this to their advantage.

sophia continues to read over the inheritance, all of it is so obvious, thomas is after his dad’s assets. in an attempt to secure his position over his brother. he’s using sophia as a chess piece for his plan to take over. a coup.

“leak it.”

lara speaks up suddenly. her eyes are deep in thought, she keeps flipping through all the evidence. “leak it anonymously.”

“what?” sophia stops, confusion in her eyes as she looks at lara.

“make it an exposé, if his dad found out that thomas never went to rehab. and spent his money partying. dragging one of the biggest stars of hollywood into a coercive marriage. that would spell the end for thomas moore. he’d never be let out of his dad’s grasp again.”

lara begins texting people in her phone, a plan to drop pieces of evidence all over the next couple of days. a sudden exposé piece would send thomas into hiding. 

“what if it backfires, lara? i can’t lose her or anna.” sophia panics, still worried about how this will all blow up in her face.

“we have a way out.” lara is confident, a large smile on her face, even if it was the last thing she could do, she would help sophia no matter what. “he’s tormented you for years sophie, the manipulation, the controlling. he took you away from her. he did this.” 

lara points at the pictures, the acting contract.

“we’re going to make him suffer. you tell me to leak it and i’ll spread it like wildfire, okay sophie?”

sophia nods firmly, and breathes out for the first time. a breath of relief.

a breath of freedom.

--

you’re dressed more properly today, in a way it’s to not feel so awful all the time. the long walks along the beach have been helping keep your feelings in tact.

it’s been several divorce settlement meetings and you’ve been realizing just how complex sophia’s life is. between all the assets and bank accounts, and royalties from her acting career. 

you’ve been feeling conflicted, a lost sense of what it means to be a partner to her. or at least what it meant before. 

you weren’t there when she made these accomplishments and you can’t understand why you still want to be in her life. 

it’s a feeling that’s haunted you since the moment she disappeared from your life. maybe there’s something you lacked for her to turn to someone else.

maybe you pushed her into the arms of that man.

sometimes you dream about him, about him burning your ranch down. or standing outside your ranch watching you as you work. his nasty grin on full display. 

you usually wake up in cold sweat and reach out for sophia, trying to protect her. but she’s never there. and reality sinks in all over again.

there were days you could barely get out to do the daily chores, sluggish movement as you tried mending your broken heart a second time. 

it’s no use though, you were used and replaced by someone who probably had more wealth than you could imagine.

so you sit a little clouded by your own thoughts, going through these meetings as robotically as possible.

limiting as much as you could, to remove the emotions out of these meetings. you need this divorce to be done, to never return or hear of sophia again.

sophia wasn’t coping much better, after learning about thomas’ motives to move forward with this divorce. it’s been hard for her to focus at the task at hand. 

just yesterday she burned her hand trying to cook breakfast for her and anna. it reminded her how much of her life was in pain. the controlled aspect of her public image made her want to vomit.

and she’s sat beside you, both of you trying to answer the mediators questions. a hurdle that both of you are struggling with. 

throughout the questioning, at multiple times, the lawyers have asked for a break to reconvene with more focus. 

all it has done is caused more stilled awkwardness between you and sophia. silently sitting together, but unable to look at each other.

it feels like detention, that you both were “willingly” sat in.

and then suddenly, like a glass falling off a countertop, sarah begins again.

“let’s discuss custody and visitation rights…” sarah reads out to the pair. 

her counterpart taking a sip of his cold coffee, a displeased frown on his face.

“on page six, the primary custodial rights of the minor child, would still be under miss laforteza’s legal guardianship until the child reaches 18 years old. in which they are legally an adult. currently, with non-disclosure terms applying to the identity of the other parent…” sarah continues reading down the page.

sophia eyes sharpen again.

“i’m sorry–what did you say?” you snap out of your haze. 

“wait–sarah, wait…what?” sophia stands up straighter, hand immediately reaching out for the paper, rapidly flying to page six. eyes furious as she searches for the words.

“whose child?” you ask sarah, also grabbing onto the paper again.

what the hell?

“this wasn’t…this wasn’t in the draft i sent in.” sophia drops the paper back down. it’s there, in the fine print of the divorce papers. 

“you have a child?” the way you ask is chilly, like you’ve audibly flinched back. electrified adrenaline shooting through you.

“give us a minute…” the lawyers both quickly review their materials. rapid typing from sarah’s counterpart and sarah looks confused as well, rereading the section that she just read aloud.

sophia’s voice is stuck in her throat, a sound coming out but it cracks in the end. she watches you scoot back, chair moving along with you.

“i was–i promise i was going to tell you about her, i was going to–” sophia reaches out, hand trying to grab yours. 

but you flinch back, hand flying behind you, shock and the slow rise of anger coming back.

the exact anger you felt when you found out about thomas.

“fuck. you–you always do this sophia. you always fucking do this.” you step back, chair hitting the marbled floor. 

and both lawyers stand up. immediately packing their stuff up. 

“you never tell me what’s going on. seriously a child? a fucking child?”

sophia gets up out of her seat. 

“is it even mine?” you bite out angrily, a suddenly thought making its sickly appearance. you couldn’t stand the idea that sophia would have anyone else’s kid. 

“don't do that! of course she’s yours. i’m not some–it’s yours okay.” the pain is sharp in your heart. you hate that you’re always the last to hear about anything. 

so a small part of you wants to hurt back. how you want her to feel an ounce of your pain.

“how are you so sure it’s mine?” the pain’s making you say things you would never say to sophia. “it could be your fiancé’s, you know?”

sophia’s hand flies out, slapping you across the face. angry tears at the accusation. the sound echoing against the walls. 

your head stays stuck, realizing how much the words hurt her, but really they hurt you too.

“i would never. never! never raise that bastard’s child.” sophia says it with finality. the kind that shuts you up and lets you know not to press further. “so don’t you dare insinuate…”

the lawyers are quick to leave, sending sophia a look that expresses that they’ll talk later. 

you’re glad because you’d rather have this conversation in private.

you finally sit back down, pulling the fallen chair up. and with that, sophia sits down too. 

both of you facing each other for the first time in a long time. but she can’t hold your gaze, repeatedly looking away to hide the anguish that’s creeping up.

she’s trying to wipe away her tears, not wanting to show how your words tore through her. and you’ve sunken into the chair, the exhaustion released from your shoulders.

it smacks you again, the reality of your life.

“we have a daughter?” you ask, feeling the anger being drowned out by the fact that you have a kid now.

“we do.” sophia cries a bit, this wasn’t how she wanted to introduce anna to you. and she certainly didn’t plan it either.

sophia could only think of one person who would try and ruin her like this. the same man that tormented her life, forced her to get this divorce. pulled her abruptly from you, only to carry your child all alone.

both of you continue to sit, waiting for the other to speak up. and it’s killer, the silence that’s waiting.

so you speak up first.

“is she healthy? i know my dad had some issues when he was a kid. and my mom too–” you begin to ramble, spilling all your worries.

“she’s healthy, don’t worry.” and sophia cracks a small smile when you do too. 

“that’s really good, yeah that’s good. um…can i see her?” 

you ask, realizing all that you ever wanted with sophia was actualized, not just a dream that you kept to yourself. in the most sick way, you now have a child.

its not the full dream of having a big family with sophia, but you have a daughter.

more specifically, you have a daughter with sophia. 

with tears in her eyes, sophia agrees to have you come over. to see the young toddler that had your eyes and sophia’s temperament. 

you felt like a part of you had returned, some part of you wasn’t a complete fuckup of your own life.

and sophia spent hours, talking about anna. every detail she thought she could share, she did. how much she enjoyed eating grapes and would scream at the top of her lungs for fun. sophia even showed you photos of her.

she looked happy, a bright wide smile in each photo. when sophia talked about the pregnancy, you felt like you could cry. all the milestones that you missed. especially when you realized sophia went through it alone, none of thomas’ support or presence. 

it hurt to hear how painful it all was for sophia, the hormone changes in her body. the way she felt about herself after the delivery. you wanted to be by her side, a shoulder to cry on as you both navigated having a child together.

so you both cried, you cried asking about her, and she cried listening to you describe how it feels to hear this all for the first time. 

how you dreamed of having a family with her. all along it was there, and she wanted the exact same.

as the night rose, you realized how late it had become. making plans to see anna the next afternoon.

before she left, sophia handed you a photo of anna as a keepsake.

the drive was somber, all you could do was replay the long conversation you had with sophia. there were bits and pieces that stuck with you, how proudly she spoke about having your child. how anna had the mischievous side of you. and the clever side of sophia.

you listened to her talk and even ordered room service for you two.

it was…nice.

almost like you two hadn’t torn each other to shreds many years ago.

it felt familiar, in a distant kind of way. 

you still want to hide how happy you were when sophia agreed to stay for dinner. she doesn’t deserve to know that. your heart was still in pieces, and one dinner wouldn’t change that fact.

but as you drifted off, you tried to wipe the smile off your face. 

truth is, you fail. you fail miserably.

--

this wasn’t how you planned on meeting your firstborn. you hoped it would be when she was born, still crying and wailing at the first introduction to the world. in a swaddle and tiny hands that would try to thrash around.

but instead you stood outside a large metal gate. a large bag in hand as you tried calming your nerves. 

you buzzed yourself in with the gate code, taking a slow look at the house that was supposedly sophia’s.

perfectly shaped hedges and large bed for flowers out front. large slabs of stone crossing the grass. you step forward towards the house. still a little weary of yourself.

maybe you have the wrong house.

you tuck your hat a little lower, feeling a bit self-conscious as you walk forward. cowboy boots clicking against the large slab stones. eventually you knock on the huge square door.

it opens into what could be described in architectural digest’s showroom mansions. large abstract paintings pinned on the walls. a flowing screen of water trickling. an ornate chandelier hanging high up.

there’s a quietness about this life. a different setting but the familiar quiet of living on a ranch. 

you continue to walk through the front, walking into a long extended room. seeing a large red conversation pit in front of you, a rather unusual vase shadowed by flowers placed in the center. 

and to your right is the kitchen, where sophia and another woman stand. both talking to each other animatedly. 

you give a light cough, to which sophia instantly turns to you. eyes going wide when she spots you.

“hi, you’re early.” sophia lets out, she still had another half hour before you were supposed to arrive. 

but instead you stand in her mansion looking as gorgeous as the first day her eyes found yours. 

cowgirl ensemble and her favorite hat of yours to pair.

“didn’t want to be late.” you explain.

lara eventually turns to you, seeing you for the first time. 

all she’s heard about you has been through sophia, and yeah lara means this in the most respectful way possible. 

but she understands why sophia is so crazy about you.

you step closer to them, the familiar clicking of cowboy heels against the floors. you stop on the other side of the counter.

“i really didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” you say placing the bag onto the table. also taking your hat off, placing it on the table.

you look at lara. “and you are?”

“i’m lara, sophia’s bestie.” lara gives a big smile, and you return one too. 

it strikes lara again, how much anna really looks like you. the same eyes that she’s seen when babysitting.

“nice to meet you lara. i’m-” you take off your hat, placing it onto the table, and extending your hand.

“don’t worry, i know and have heard a lot about you.” she gives a knowing smile as she shakes your hand.

sophia rolls her eyes at the smile.

you try looking around for a young toddler, eyes scanning around, but it lands on nothing. 

sophia starts, moving away from the kitchen. “i’ll go get her. stay here.”

“no, let me, you two should catch up.” lara winks at sophia before disappearing into the house. 

and you’re again, left with sophia.

“so i uh, went out and bought some toys.” you start, rummaging through your bag. “but i realized i don’t know what she’d like…so i kind of bought everything.”

you scratch your head a bit. realizing how dumb you looked with a toy from each aisle of the store.

sophia stares at the gesture fondly, looking at all the dolls and books you bought. enough to fill an entire shelf. 

it’s like you’re santa.

“thank you, you really didn’t have to.” sophia rounds the counter, standing close enough for you to inhale her perfume. 

you blink a bit before focusing again.

she sits down in a barstool, and you do the same.

“it’s nothing, i’m happy to.” you say smiling at sophia. you want to reach out and rub her cheek, but the sudden reminder of your reality keeps that urge down.

“how are ya, fia?” you let the nickname drop, you don’t even notice it but she does.

“i’m tired, but i’m happy you’re here.” and sophia means every word of it. 

you try not to let it, but the words blossom in your heart, a familiar kind of bliss from just being around her.

she’s happy to have you in her orbit even in the circumstances. 

you feel the same way, you’re more convinced that there’s more sophia’s not telling you. what other hidden mysterious could she be hiding from you?

“how about you? enjoying california?” sophia asks.

you think about your time here, it’s definitely different from new mexico. there’s more movement around, the beach is really nice. you’ve been swimming most days or taking long walks on the beach.

“it’s really nice out here, i can see why you came.” you didn’t want to make it feel like she chose california over you.

“yeah, it’s a beautiful state.” sophia thinks about how different life is for you back home.

suddenly a voice hits your ears.

“mommy!” a young girl squirms in lara’s arms. trying her best to reach sophia. and with quick steps, sophia eventually grabs a hold of anna. 

you watch the interaction in slow motion, your shoulders tensing when you realize this is real.

you spent the whole car ride over shaking your foot or biting your nail. to say you were excited and nervous is an understatement.

as sophia’s cuddling her a bit, the toddler’s eyes spot you. and she watches you, a sudden interest in your face.

you’re looking at your own daughter. and God, she reminds you of sophia when you were both younger. she’s got sophia’s long hair, but she has your eyes. 

she has your eyes.

it brings tears to your eyes, and you nearly have to step away so you can cry. but instead anna puts her arms out begging you to hold her.

and you do, with shaky arms. she sits comfortably on your side, looking up at you. small strong hands that pull at your shirt.

“hi there.” you say softly. and lara’s standing there taking photos of you three. sophia’s hands are shaking too. scared to let this moment disappear from her grasp.

anna continues exploring you, hand reaching up to pull at your face. letting your skin snap back when she lets go.

“mama!”

anna slaps her hands against your chest, happily clapping to herself and sophia gasps. her smart girl recognized you, from all the photos and stories she’s told her.

“mama? yeah, i’m your mama.” you cry out, tears falling down your face. you wipe them away with your sleeve. anna seeing you cry makes her cry too. 

“no no, please don’t cry, these are happy tears.” you try to wipe away your daughter’s tears.

lips still trembling as you held her tighter. she stops crying when you wipe her tears away too. leaning into you with a soft smile on her face.

“oh my God. this is really cute, but i have to go. it was lovely meeting you, let’s all have brunch sometime soon!” lara whispers to you, grabbing her purse and giving a hug to sophia before leaving.

“lovely to meet you too, lara.” you wave to her, and anna waves too. her hand shaking as she waves away.

“sophia i–she’s real.” you gasp, feeling the toddler mess with the pockets of your shirt.

“she is. want to play with her while i make her a snack?” sophia smiles fondly at you holding onto anna’s hand.

“yeah of course.” 

so you set the toddler down. grabbing each toy that you bought and shaking it in front of her. she seems mildly intrigued by each until you hold out a toy horse in front of her.

she grabs it with interest, immediately trying to bite it, but you pull it away quick enough before she bites down.

instead you show her how to walk the horse on the counter. you start putting other horses down for her. she continues to knock them into each other, much to your dismay.

“she loves horses. i wonder where she got that from?” sophia says teasingly, continuing to place grapes in a small cup. 

“hm, must be you?” you joke back.

you laugh a bit when sophia doesn’t respond. continuing to knock into horses with anna. 

“one time i took her to a carousel and she begged to get on the horse.” sophia continues, and you can imagine the scene. thinking fondly of the two.

“that’s my girl.” you say confidently, “oh i have a gift.” you grab your bag.

taking out a kid’s sized cowboy hat and fitting it onto anna’s head. it’s still too big for her and she gets completely covered by it.

“she’ll grow into it.” you say to sophia, taking it off the kid. the kid laughs a bit at the hat, putting it back on as she continues to play with the horses.

suddenly a thought hits you, and before you can control it, the words come tumbling out. you don’t mean to ask it, at least not in front of anna.

“would you have told me about her?” 

sophia stills, stopping her movements as she look at you, with all the sincerity in her eyes, she answers you.

“yes, i just didn’t want it to come out like that.” she refers to the divorce settlement meetings. “you deserved to know her.”

you nod along, a solemn expression painting the pain of not knowing your own daughter. you wanted to be there for all of it, the good and the bad. 

even for sophia. 

maybe you were still hopelessly in love with her. but now that there’s a child involved, things have shifted.

“i’m sorry for the things i said to you. what i implied, i didn’t mean it.” you say to her. gently adjusting the hat on anna’s head. “i was…angry, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

she takes a minute to absorb your apology, quietly moving through the kitchen.

“thank you, and i’m sorry too for everything.” sophia puts a juice box on the plate.

you also take a second to acknowledge her apology, it’s been hard grappling how sophia truly feels about you. whether she means everything she’s done to you.

for now you’ll accept whatever this is. but in you there’s still a very cautious and injured animal. cowering in fear that if you let her in again, she’ll ruin you. 

you grab anna, walking across the kitchen. putting her into a high chair. she pays it no mind as she continues playing with the plastic horse in her hand.

anna continues to mess with the horse, setting it down when she sees her plate of food. slowly eating it as you and sophia both watched.

“thanks for inviting me over.” you look at her, a genuine smile that refuses to leave. 

“of course.” sophia walks to the fridge, opening the door and scanning for beverages. “want something to drink?”

you walk right up behind her, enough to hover but not enough to touch her. she can feel your body heat radiating off.

“water would be good.” you reach into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and stepping back. sophia’s closes her eyes for a couple seconds. feeling a bit flushed at the sudden closeness. 

almost wishes you never moved away. and she turns to look at you, with something behind those eyes, you can’t quite place.

you want to ask her what’s going on. but then she walks away, back to the stove. you close the fridge, trying to shake off that moment.

you take a sip of water and return back to anna’s side. watching her happily eat some animal crackers. a smile erupting when you make silly faces at her.

anna pulls her arms up, begging you to hold her again. you lift her up and hold her on your hip. moving into the kitchen again, standing right next to sophia.

“mm, the famous laforteza sinigang?” you dip your head down, smelling the delicious soup. a familiar scent wafting into your nose.

smells like home.

“yeah, family recipe.” sophia continues stirring the pot every so often.

“smells good,” you say cheekily, and sophia grabs a spoon, cooling it down for you. and then spoons some to you. “and it tastes even better.”

you grab another spoonful and shovel it into your mouth.

“i’m going to miss your cooking.”

“yeah…want to stay for dinner?” sophia asks.

and its a step out. a step out of her comfort zone, an extending hand hoping that you take it.

she really hopes you take her up on the offer.

“that would be lovely.” you reply back, a small smile on your face when sophia’s eyes light up.

you continue to play with anna throughout the afternoon. she liked crashing horses into each other and running around the sofa. all of which would tire you out.

but she kept giggling and ran, so you had to run after her. eventually she settled for a nap, you tucked her in, a small blanket covering her as she slept on the couch.

“she’s out.” you speak up, getting up from the couch. walking towards sophia, and God. maybe the world is blessing her, because now you’re standing inside her home. 

“dinner is ready?” you ask.

she focuses again, nodding as you walk towards her cabinets. grabbing two bowls and utensils, passing them to sophia. 

she fills the bowls with some rice, passing them back to you. you set them on the dinner table, sophia grabs her small pot of sinigang. placing it to the next of you, you grab her plate, filling it with the delicious soup, doing the same for you.

“shall we say grace?” sophia began, sliding her hand over and you took it. 

a spark of electricity at the slight touch, you instantly flinch back a bit. before sliding your hand into hers again.

“dear heavenly father, we thank you for the food that we are about to eat. we ask that you would look protect us and guide us along your path. in jesus’ name, amen.”

“amen.” you say quietly, removing your hand. albeit a bit too quickly for sophia’s liking.

as you begin eating sophia’s sinigang, you think about what it would mean to be in anna’s life. how you could be an active parent despite living in a different state. 

it doesn’t seem feasible, having to travel back and forth to visit anna. and with a lack of reason to stay in new mexico, you suddenly erupt with an idea.

“i’m going to move here.” you say calmly, and sophia stops her spoon. lifting her head to look at you. 

“you’re moving here? like hollywood?” she asks, a little shocked at the sudden interest. 

as far as sophia could remember, new mexico was your home and you were content to live the rest of your life on that ranch.

“not hollywood per se, but definitely close by.” you gesture around, feeling your resolve continue to harden. 

“wow, this is a big move. what uh made you decide that?” sophia squirms in her seat a bit, watching you with purpose. a very secret part of her hopes you say it’s because of her and anna.

“i want to be in anna’s life, actively. traveling back and forth would be too difficult.” you look towards your daughter. who is still happily turning and twisting her horse. a delighted smile on her face.

sophia takes her time to reply, taking another sip of soup before leaning back in her chair. hands shuffling as she thinks of a thoughtful response.

“what about charlie? the horses? the chickens?” sophia asks.

she’s elated to hear that you want to be in anna’s life. it’s more than what she asked for, and to be a consistent part of anna’s life would be terrific. 

“i’m planning on buying a ranch out here. i’ll bring charlie, the horses, everything.” you explain. 

it was an idea that popped into your head earlier, a realization that you wanted your life near anna…and sophia. to still have your lifestyle, but be able to visit often and go out to the beach.

“you sure?” sophia continues to eat her food, and you return back to your bowl. feeling a sense of purpose surging through you, instead of aimless days without a direction, you could be a present parent.

“yeah, i’ve decided. and you know me, once i’ve decided it’s set in stone.” you give her a big grin, looking at her briefly. her eyes searching for something deeper, when a grin also appears on her face.

“well then, if your heart is set on it, then no one can stop you.” she explains.

“i’m going to be a cowgirl out here in california, who would have thought?” you grin continues to expand.

sophia rolls her eyes at that, but she can’t deny that deep down she’d love for you to be closer to her.

“don’t go too crazy now.” sophia comments, filling your empty plate with more soup, to which you happily eat more of. nearly emptying the bowl in less than thirty seconds.

to which she offers another filling.

“do they have rodeos out here? we should take anna when she gets older.” you comment. 

sophia doesn’t mistake the use of ‘we’ when you asked.

“yes, there’s some big ones out here, you’d be surprised.” she says, standing up to pick anna out of her high chair.

“hi cutie, want to sit with us?” sophia walks back over, anna perched on her lap when she sits back down. immediately her baby hands are trying to grab sophia’s bowl of food. hunger in her eyes.

“well, she’s definitely yours.” sophia nods at her kid, still trying to reach her small arms for the bowl, frustrated when sophia sits back. “your mom told me you used to do that as a baby. even threw a couple tantrums.”

sophia giggles to herself, seeing you fluster, the embarrassment rising your neck.

“whatever…” you drag out. a definitely big smile still plastered on your face as you watched your daughter try to struggle out of sophia’s grasp.

you think you could get used to this life, a life with anna and sophia.

‐‐

you continue to toss the keys in your hand as you hum along to a song you heard on the radio. the day has been long gone, and now the night is coming to a close too. after spending nearly all afternoon and dinner with sophia and anna, you’ve come to a couple conclusions.

you were definitely still in love with sophia, even if the world were to flip upside down tomorrow, those feelings would never dim.

you didn’t want a divorce, not now, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

you were going to be the best parent you could be.

it wasn’t something that you were happy to announce, considering sophia still had her fiancé. the same one that she conveniently doesn’t talk about. and honestly you aren’t too sure why.

you both have skirted the conversation about him in her life. as far as you knew, that was a person she willingly agreed to marry, she had no reason to state otherwise. but she still kept your kid?

that made everything more confusing. the lack of thomas in her life. every meeting that’s been had, every inch of sophia’s life wouldn’t lead one to believe that she’s happily engaged.

there are no photos of him in her home, even when you went poking in her bathroom, there was no sign of someone else that lived here. it’s unsettling…

you don’t know how to bring it up to her.

like hey, so what about your fiancé that you happen to be cheating on me with, but also you’re technically cheating on him with me?

there was something still lost in the grand picture, he didn’t fit into sophia or anna’s life. something’s not right, and you need to get to the bottom of it, before you lose your wife for good.

these thoughts continue to consume you, so much so you barely recognize the voice that’s calling out to you from the hotel lounge.

“hey neighbor!” and in front of you is manon, wide smile and a long dress to match. you quickly stop yourself before crashing into her. taking a step back before giving her a smile too.

“hey, how have you been?” you ask, subtly noticing the get-up. clearly she’s had a night out, a fancy one.

“i’m okay, came back from a failed date.” she points at herself, a small clutch in hand and sparkly earrings that dangle under her long curly hair.

“ouch, his fault?” you ask. both of you walk towards the bar, pulling her chair out and pushing her in. as you sit next to her.

“her fault, actually.” manon says confidently. you flag a bartender down to order two martinis. “she kept talking about herself all night, didn’t ask me a single question.”

you wince a bit, feeling sympathetic towards manon’s shitty night. the bartender slides over the drinks and you immediately take a sip.

“sorry for assuming, and that’s got to suck. you even dressed up so nicely!” you explain, taking a sip and listening to manon continue to complain.

“no harm no foul, most people don’t know i date women.” she explains, placing her clutch onto the bar counter. “and look! i even pulled my favorite dress out.”

she points at herself, and you can’t deny, it does look very good on her. form fitting and silver accents along the neckline. anyone would struggle to keep their eyes off her on a date.

“sorry to hear that, she wasn’t worth your time.” you continue to sip on your drink as she replays the story to you. telling you how it was doomed from the start, the lack of chivalry, the messy eating, the self-centered monologue, all of which made manon wish she was curled up in her hotel room, watching shitty rom-coms instead.

by then you two have had more than a couple drinks, and you can tell it’s definitely affecting manon more than you. her speech is a little slurred. her eyes are a bit unfocused, and her hands keep reaching out to touch your knee.

you’re not uncomfortable per se, but it definitely strikes you how forward manon is. batting her lashes and listening to you intently talk. almost as if she’s lost in a vision of you.

“alright, clearly you’ve had your fill. let’s get you to your room.” you grab a dizzy manon out of her chair, tucking her clutch under your arm. instantly she pulls all her weight onto you, you brace yourself, almost tipping over.

“sorry, had a bit too much.” manon giggles to herself, and you try your best to counter the weight. having her lean into your arms as you both walk away from the bar. slow steps as she continues to giggle to herself. 

you don’t notice it, not with how hard you’re trying to keep manon upright. the weight of her body trying to make you tip over.

but sophia’s here. she’s here and she’s shaking. in her hand is the cowboy hat you left in her house. 

she had found it when cleaning up the kitchen, hoping to see you again. so she drove over, a smile all over her face as she sang all the songs on the radio.

but now, no. no she’s furious. there’s an unnamed woman hanging off your arm. clearly interested with the way she’s hanging onto you like she was oh so weak.

fucking bullshit.

sophia’s pulled that move on you long before this woman even breathed in your direction. she’s gripping onto your cowboy hat with jealousy brimming in her heart.

and she might just snap. she’s going to snap this woman in half if she doesn’t get her hands off her wife. 

you are none the wiser, walking manon into the elevator and selecting the top floor. stepping back and begging the elevator to fly up, the doors are closing when suddenly in steps another woman.

sophia.

her eyes are filled with rage as she stares at manon next to you. 

“sophia! what are you doing here?”

you’re more than shocked to see her, she’s never come to visit you unless it was to discuss the divorce. and here she was standing in an elevator with you and a drunk manon going up to the top floor.

she stops her glaring long enough to focus on you. hat in hand that she slides back onto your head. “you left this. at my place.” 

she goes back to glaring at the other woman. and manon’s seeming to get the hint, even in her drunk state. pulling away from your arm a bit. and sophia can see it in her eyes, the recognition of her face. she knows exactly who sophia laforteza is.

“and who might you be?” sophia asks, it’s neither friendly not mean. but it’s definitely not kind. 

“i’m manon, living next door.” she gestures to you, eyes more alert as sophia tries to subtly put distance between you two. stepping in far enough that you back into your corner.

“i see.” sophia eyes her more, satisfied that the woman’s stepped away from you. and even more satisfied that her hand is off of you.

the elevator can’t go fast enough with the tense energy in the air. sophia takes a moment to situate herself, happy to have kept her away.

the elevator dings and all three of you walk out. and manon’s really drunk, because she nearly trips over herself, almost falling on the floor.

you reach out quickly, scooping her up before she fell. and with a few adjustments she’s back onto her feet.

“are you okay?” you ask, manon nods a bit trying her best to stabilize herself.

and sophia, well she’s watching like a hawk. ready to swoop in the second manon gets too close.

you walk manon to her room quickly, opening the door and setting her down on a chair. and sophia’s not exactly happy at the sight. it should be her being taken home by you, you keeping her upright if she was too wobbly. this kind of chivalry was supposed to be reserved for her. 

she shakes her head unhappily.

and with a quick nod from manon that she was all good, you bid her goodnight, walking away with sophia in tow. 

sophia gives manon a quick look over her shoulder before the door closed. and walks right after you, all the way into your hotel room. she thinks long and hard, about the next words she’s going to say to you, because really…these emotions have been erupting in her all day.

she walks in after you, closing the door behind her.

but she settles on these next words carefully, eyes wild and hair even wilder. 

“are you fucking her?” sophia enunciates every syllable, she always did this whenever she got serious. wanted to make it obvious what she’s asking, no chance for you to stand there looking confused. 

she hates when you look at her like you’re confused.

your eyes nearly jump out of your skull, you immediately let out a sharp gasp.

“no, of course not!” you reply, feeling a little upset at the question. 

“not that it’s any of your business.” 

it hits both of you like a train when you say it. in truth, you want it to hurt, you want sophia to tell you everything was one big mistake. want her to snap out of it, want her to pull you in by the belt of your pants. to fuck you like you meant something.

but you want it to sting, she doesn’t have the right. doesn’t have the ability to dictate what you are to her, not with him still in the picture. you’re digging for more, for her to explain his unusual place in her life. 

“say that again.” 

she dares you, eyes hard like steel. 

you step close enough to breathe it in her face, she doesn’t step back, body tight like a rubberband. and you think if you breathe in the wrong, maybe right, direction, she’ll blow up.

“i said…it’s none of your business.” you hold your own, standing firmly. she stares at you, listening to you try to defend yourself . “it’s none of your business. who i fuck. who i kiss. who i touch.”

you continue to corner her a bit, and she’s getting angrier by the second, you know in a second she’d be all over you like a predator, she has that gaze.

“oh! you must be out of your depth here.” she pushes you with a light laugh at the end of sentence. grabbing you by your shirt, hand clenched to the point her knuckles turn white. you feel like you’ll snap, either your shirt or you first, you don’t know. “it is my Goddamn business.”

she snarls the words out, an anger thats fueled by jealousy and the tense sexual tension that always lingers when you two are too close. 

“funny how you think i’d let you touch someone else, with what’s supposed to be mine.”

she pushes you, enough to make you stumble a bit, your hat falling onto the ground. then grabbing onto you again, pulling you straight into the bedroom. each step like a sentence to the dungeon, but you’re more than happy to be locked here. with all her attention and anger directed at you.

“you want to play dumb? fine. let me remind me who you belong to.” 

you fall backwards onto the mattress, ready to push her under you, an undercurrent of wanting to control the pace nearly making you go tunnel vision. but sophia’s got her mind set. eyes ablaze as she pulls your belt out of your jeans. holding your body down with her hips. she stares at you angrily, a need to remind you where you are. 

under her. 

she ties your hands in a quick fashion, pulling the belt until there’s tension, keeping your hands above your head. 

you try pulling against the bedpost, but it doesn’t give.

she pushes your shirt up, until she can scratch your stomach with her nails, then she leans down, hair in beautiful waves falling around you, until all you can breathe and see is her.

she pushes your pants down a bit, not enough to take it off, but enough to let the pressure of your pants alleviate. and then she stops midway. your pants are lifted off your hips but not enough to move anywhere else.

“either you tell me who this belongs to.” she snaps the pants back onto your skin. hand immediately back on you, pressed against you, not enough to move, but with enough to make you want to buck your hips. “or i leave you here. your choice.” 

she says it in that tone, the one that lets you know there’s no other choice, not if you still want to be in her good graces. 

“yours fia, i swear.” you groan a bit, trying to find some pressure to alleviate the ever present problem in your pants. “all of me belongs to you.”

she smiles big, in that smile that lets you know she’s won, and she’s going to be rewarded heavily for it.

“good answer baby.” she taps your cheek a bit, liking the way you keep trying to touch her, like you deserved to after pulling that with her. 

“i would say you kept up a good fight,” she takes a long lick over your stomach, feeling it tense under her touch, “but we know you’ll end up like putty in my hands.”

she’s reeling in her win, a cocky grin that won’t leave her face. you nearly whimper at the contact, she’s barely touched you and you’re taut, trying to arch into her, for some contact at the very least.

“please fia, let me touch you.” you whine again, trying your best to get out of your restraints. its driving you mad how you can’t touch her. can’t feel her the way you want.

“not tonight. not until i'm satisfied.” she leans back, unbuckling your pants and staring down at you, like she’s caught her prey in a trap. 

you continue to try and move your hips, like a caught animal trying so desperately to be released, but it’s no use. not when she’s got you finally where she wants you. 

“fuck fia, please, need to touch you.” you try to beg, but it only spurs her on, oh how the mighty have fallen. she shakes her head, giving you a kiss on the cheek before climbing off of you, pulling herself off the bed.

she takes her time, tonight she’s in charge, and she’ll take everything she can get. especially with the way you’re trying so hard to watch her, head trying to look at her despite the restraints holding you in place. it drives her insane, knowing she still has that much of an effect on you, tracking all of her movements without trying to miss a single second. 

she can feel herself getting hot by how hard you’re staring at her. a slight sheen on sweat on the back of her neck. you wish you could just rip these restraints off you, to show her who she belonged too. but a deep part of you is just as enticed by this side of her. 

desire pooling in your lower stomach and you nearly jump when she takes off your shoes, sliding them off quickly. you don’t even care what she does, as long as she’s touching you, you’re more than okay with that. 

her hands slide up along your pants, and really you feel like a horny teenager being touched for the first time. the way she intentionally drags it out, slow enough to keep you engaged but not enough to give you relief. 

“fia, please.” you beg again, and again. she swears she’s never heard you so desperate, at the mercy of her control. she could get used to this. and soon enough, she’s pulling your pants and boxers off, enough to alleviate the pressure that’s been confining your lower half.

“please what?” she says with anticipation in her eyes, she’s never seen you so out of control. so much want to let her do whatever she wants. it makes her pride swell.

“please, touch me.” you moan out, and you’re so tightly wound that it almost feels like you’re in pain. pain of not having her all over you. desperate and whining for attention.

she likes the sound of that. pulling herself forward, settling for sitting on top you. light touches dancing on your hip. not close enough to where you truly want her, but a relief that she is even touching you at all. the hard exterior that you’ve put up over the years is crumbling, and of course is being unraveled by her.

she continues her light touches until she gets lower, already sensitive to the touch, trying your best to get some movement against her hand. but she holds still, liking the way you’re completely at her will.

then she spits in her hand, enough to get your cock wet, spreading it all over. you moan at the contact, letting yourself relax again, getting that much needed relief after all.

sophia’s got other plans in mind.

“so, you let anyone touch you?” she says, continuing to stroke you up and down, letting the build up confuse your brain, “do you, slut?” 

you’ve never heard sophia talk like this before, the way she stares down at you like you’re nothing and everything at the same time. the way she stops her hand when you don’t respond.

“answer me.” it’s not particularly loud, but it makes you want to shrink. 

“n-no, i don’t.” you whimper a bit, trying to buck your hips again, to which she completely lets go of you. a growing dissatisfaction in her eyes. 

“you don’t, slut? so what was that back there?” she growls out. 

“i-i i really-she was drunk. i was helping her back. please sophia, please touch me.” you beg, trying to move your legs and by now sophia’s getting irritated. 

“don’t let that happen again.” sophia goes back to stroking you again, and you nearly flinch at the contact, it was so sudden and gentle that you wanted to chase after it.

“i won’t, i promise! please faster.” you continue to beg, head thrown back in pleasure as she continues to give you a growing pleasure in your stomach. she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, a reward for the correct answer.

“my little slut will get what she wants.” sophia says it out loud, but mostly it’s for herself. a direct and open claim of you. you’ve never been so worked up before, all this teasing and lack of control is making every sense more heightened.

“yes, please, fuck.” you moan out everytime she drags her hand up the top, a delicious pressure that has you leaking out pre-cum. you’re breathing heavy, head to one side as you try to fight the growing orgasm that’s closing in on you. the feeling of sophia all over you again has you unraveling earlier than you were expecting. “i’m your slut.”

you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, just begging for a release, one that sophia will happily grant you if you answer this next question correctly. she speeds up her movements, you continue to let out begging words at her mercy. 

“so, who’s is this?” she makes it a point to squeeze you suddenly, drawing a gasp and some more pre-cum flowing from the head. the increased pace is making you want to pass out, and all you can feel is the mounting orgasm that will explode soon.

“fuck, yours, i swear to God, it’s yours, i’m yours.” you ramble a bit, trying so very desperately to chase after your own release, it’s a beautiful sight to sophia. just a little more and she has you begging for a single touch.

she doesn’t mistake how you try to bite at something, anything to contain the inevitable orgasm. you bite into the closest thing you have which is a small pillow to your right. and your body tenses like it usually does, a tightness in your stomach and you try and push into her hand. 

“fuck, sophia, please, don’t stop.” you continue to push into her hand, and she can feel herself drooling at the sight, wiping it away with the back of her other hand. and like a drawn bow, the arrow is released.

“fuck oh God, fia. fuck, i’m cumming.”

you shake a bit as you cum, legs shaking and torso taut, arching off the bed, the cum spilling out in streams. 

all landing on your abdomen. 

but sophia doesn’t stop, she continues to stroke you through the orgasm, your body convulsing at the motion, it drives you insane. you can feel your body feeling overloaded with stimulation. 

“fuck-sophia, please,” you try to gain some control, the continuous stroking making you cum more than you’ve ever cum before. “give-give me a second.”

she gives you a few more strokes before letting go, you’re breathing hard, sweat glistening under the lights, and God, sophia swears she’ll never let you walk away from her again. as she watches you try to get your focus back. instead, she pulls herself on top of you, resting herself right on top of your spent cock.

she pulls her dress up, just above her hips, dragging herself on top of your cock, a slow rocking motion against you, and you let out a gasp at the contact again. your brain is fuzzy and barely recovered when she starts moving. 

she has every intent of making this as pleasurable for herself.

you can feel it, the lack of panties in the way. she came all the way here for one thing only, it only brings you faster to attention, the blood flowing straight to your cock once more.

she continues to ride the underside of your cock, small moans and quick breaths pulling from that gorgeous throat of hers. 

you’re mesmerized, eyes in a trance, loving the way she’s using you for her own pleasure. to chase after her own orgasm. you try pulling at the restraints again, trying to desperately to touch her. 

she smiles through all of it, enjoying you trying so hard to get your hands out of your belt. she smells sweet, and the mixed smell of everything is driving you insane.

“fia, please, let me touch you.” you’re pleading with her, barely able to get out a single word without pulling again. and she finds it insanely hot, how you can’t even focus on anything. eyes flying around, trying to pull yourself free, trying to watch her at the same time, trying so very hard.

she swears she can cum just from watching you, her continuous rocking motion making her approach her own orgasm. it’s the delicious pressure on her clit that makes her stay still. wants to see you continue to beg, wants that torture to ruin you. 

until all you know and want is her.

“mm, maybe if you’re good i’ll let you.” sophia returns back to riding herself on top of you, leaning down to pepper kisses along your abs. a reminder that she has every right to touch you anywhere. it’s bringing you to your own orgasm too. and in a deft motion, she pulls herself back, seeing your cock angry red, trying to jump at the loss of contact. 

she smirks at that, slowly lifting her hips to slid it near her hole. the tip just barely prodding the entrance, and with a slow controlled movement, she sinks down onto you, inch by inch, she takes her time. enjoying the delicious stretch, her hands scratching your stomach, where just seconds ago she had left kisses. each lipstick mark like a claim of possession.

“you look so good like this,” she drags a singular nail around, continuing to slowly lift her hips again, and rocking back down. “such a good little slut for me.” 

“fia, fia, fia.” you chant her name like a mantra. caught under her spell and wanting nothing more than to spill everything inside of her. “fuck, i’m close.”

“already?” sophia smirks, and really she’s teasing you. she knows how wound up you are, how sensitive you are after your first orgasm, one slight clench and you would spill inside of her. 

so she tests you, giving you a clench that has your eyes prickling with tears. you can barely contain yourself, twitching wildly at the sudden pressure. wanting so badly to touch her, any part of her. 

she leans in close, giving you another squeeze that has you convulsing once more.

“fia, please, i’m so close.” you whine out. 

she’s on cloud 9 right now, clenching again and then you’re spilling inside of her. loud pants and whines ripping through your already dry throat. cumming with every bit of energy that you have within you. 

she leans close again, kissing you wildly through your orgasm. hair clenched in between her fingers. you’re letting out pretty sounds out of your mouth through each kiss. still trying so hard to pull against the leather belt. tears and cum spilling out of you. and sophia thinks you look glorious like this under her.

you eventually feel the ebbs of your orgasm dying out, sophia still wrapped around you, warm heat that is making you lightheaded.

“Jesus Christ, fia. i’ve never cum that hard.” you get out in between gasps, eyes closed and trying your best to calm your heart. it’s beating faster than you’ve ever felt it, and if you weren’t so spent you would realize sophia’s chasing after her own orgasm. using her fingers to bring her to her own orgasm, with your cock still nestled inside. 

“mm, fuck, that’s good, stay inside.” she whines a bit, continuing to rub herself, rocking herself against you, and really you can’t take it anymore, nearly losing yourself in the throes of passion, almost blacking out. but the sensation keeps you close, the persistent tension against the belt.

“fuck!” she comes tumbling down, orgasm causing her to clench around you, shaking on top of you and then she falls on top of you. cock still very much inside of her as she continues to cum. you try your best to give her kisses, peppering her cheek with them as she’s spent too. heavy breathing, chest to chest, and your eyes are bleary. 

sophia’s the first to move, pushing herself up, enough to have both of her arms holding her up on top of you. her eyes are so filled with emotion, the same kind of emotion she held in her eyes when she stood across from you on that altar, under God, and with everyone in the church. 

she wants to cry, everything’s been so emotional, how she had yearned for you for years. regretting ever leaving you, carried your child and stood by everything that she did in hopes that you two would return to each other. when everything isn’t as messy as it once was. 

just two girls trying to be with each other.

like both of you intended. and by no means is this meant to save everything between you, but for now, for this very moment where your two souls are connected like puzzle pieces, she’ll allow herself this relief. 

in this moment you were hers and she was yours, through and through. 

so she dips back down, giving you a kiss that’s pouring every emotion she can possibly muster up, every ounce of grief, pain, love, and yearning born from her love for you. she doesn’t know if it’s enough, but she hopes it means something to you. wet tears hitting your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. trembling lips that are trying to hold back the pain of losing you, over and over again.

“fia?” you ask her, watching the way the cries continue to slip out, silently crying on top of you. she continues her downpour of tears even when she slips the belt off your hands. your hands immediately on her face again. trying so desperately to stop her tears. so moved by your action that she cries all over again. head sinking to your shoulder.

two naked souls trying to have a conversation with each other. 

you hold her in your hands, keeping her close and softly rubbing her back in comforting circles. and she cries in your arms. wrapping around your torso too. you hold her for the whole night, until her cries turn into soft breaths and her tears have dried. until she’s that girl that you asked to marry when you both were bright-eyed and had dreams of conquering the world.

you hold her close long after she’s fallen asleep. moving to another bed in the suite after you’ve cleaned up the mess between you two. the softness of her eyes hidden under calmness, gently brushing her hair as she continues to sleep through the night. 

you eventually succumb to sleep too. holding her in your arms and hers securely around yours too. in the middle of the night she woke up in a panic, trying desperately to find you, only to realize you were right in front of her. soft snores and a heavy arm laid on her side. 

she kissed each part of your face gently, just to prove to herself you were here. before closing her eyes again. drifting off to a dreamland where your family was all together, laughter and screams filling the air.

‐‐

last night was something.

you didn’t know how to explain it, and you’re sure sophia wouldn’t be able to either.

but last night, you both quickly cross the threshold of just ex partners trying to coparent. crossing the threshold of just trying to coexist in each other’s worlds without crashing into each other. but honestly, did you really think you could just coexist with sophia?

the same woman that stole your heart when she brought you charlie as a small pup from her uncles dog’s litter. the same woman that was your personal nurse when you almost got trampled by a bull and had to be bed-ridden for weeks.

no, you could never simply coexist with her. your lives were intertwined as if by the simple laws of nature. by the simple fact that she was yours and you were hers. through legality and spirituality you two could never completely separate from each other.

and by God’s grace, you were here. running your hands through her hair gently. an ache in your heart and soul to reconnect with the one woman who had spoiled love for you. it drives you mad with want and resentment, wanting for her to be yours again. no need for anyone to interfere.

if last night was any indication of her feelings for you, then you’d be a fool to think she wants anyone other than you. but still everything is so confusing with her, how she refuses to speak about him. you want answers, last night wasn’t just some jealous fueled hook up to you. it has to mean more. it simply has to, or else…did you just give your heart away again?

sophia stirs under your touch, a light smile at the touch, she leans into it, enjoying the way you continue to massage her scalp. it’s relaxing and reminds her of the small acts of affection that you love giving her.

“hi.” you whisper gently, liking the way she hums lightly. eventually placing a hand over your heart, just holding it there. feeling it pulse under her hand. 

“hi, good morning.” you listen to her morning voice, like a songbird it’s tickles your ears. you smile wide before inching closer, placing a quick kiss onto her lips. to which she pulls you in closer, a long and searing kiss filling both of your desires.

“so, last night?” you cock an eyebrow, you weren’t playing any games and you hoped she wasn’t either. instead sophia curls into herself, feeling hot heat rise to her cheeks, dusting them in pink.

“last night…yeah…”sophia drags out. trying her best to hide under the covers again.

“nuh uh, come on, what was all that?” you ask. pulling the covers away, revealing an extremely embarrassed sophia. she instead covers her face with her hands. trying to roll to the other side. “fia?”

“ugh fine, i was…i was jealous okay!” sophia lets go of her hands, dropping them to her side, but still unable to look at you in the eyes. you chuckle a bit, to which she hides herself again. 

this time you don’t bother trying to unveil her.

“yeah i got that,” you roll your eyes in amusement, oh it was clear as day she was jealous. she always was whenever someone got to close to you, or even lingered a little too long. this wasn’t the unusual part, sophia rarely acted on her jealousy. instead letting you respectfully tell the other party that you were taken, because in her head. it was hotter that way. it was hotter for her you to state how you were taken than for her to intervene.

“but seriously fia, you’ve never pulled that. i mean ever.” you continue, dropping the amusement in your voice.

“i know…and it’s so stupid, i just…” she continues to voice out her embarrassment, “everything between us is so rocky, and i needed this. i needed to prove to myself that i’m still who you want.” 

your eyes soften at the sudden vulnerability. instead of embarrassment, sophia lets her hands drop. sitting up straight, half of the duvet still covering her. and you sit up too. 

“fia…what do you mean?” you ask, taking her hand in yours, rubbing small circles on her hand. to calm her through this vulnerable moment, and show that you were here for her.

“i guess, what i’m trying to say is. i still need to know that you want me, and i know it’s selfish. but my God, i still want you, i always have, even when i left, everything in me still wants you.” she rambles out, her other hand moving in a dramatic motion, eyes that are darting everywhere, eventually focusing on you.

“and thomas?” you drop the question. the topic that you both have skirted around since your arrival. especially when you refused to let her explain herself when you left your ranch two years ago. you ask it in a quiet voice, feeling yourself sink at the question. 

you weren’t ready for the answer, but it was now or never.

“thomas, he.” sophia runs her hand through her hair, a long sigh causing her to deflate. “he isn’t my fiancé, at least not willingly. he-his dad, i signed my acting contract with his dad.” she continues to speak, a hidden vulnerability that’s making her shrink herself, head dipped low, almost as if she’s embarrassed. 

you hate the sight of it.

“i signed a contract when i first got here, right after i landed my first big role. everyone wanted to book me, so i signed with his company. and thomas he-he fucking used that contract against me.”

you nod, but there’s a sudden burst of anger growing in your heart. 

“he fucking-he fucking made me get the divorce.”

she dropped the bomb, and you’re leaning back now, shock hitting your system all over again. “sophia, what?” you gasp out, eyes confused and she looks up, watery eyes staring into you.

“he used the contract against me, he knew i had a spat with one of his dad’s buddy directors. i walked out on the filming, my manager made it seem like i had health issues. but i couldn’t stand him, so i left, i left an entire project. everyone was mad, i mean his dad almost threatened to cut me.” sophia continues to talk, a tear falling and you can’t even utter a word.

“you can’t just leave a project unscathed, you could get blacklisted out here. and fucking thomas, he used that against me. he had evidence of me walking out, and he said he would leak it, it would’ve destroyed my career. i was fucking blackmailed.” 

sophia continues to cry, angry tears rolling off her cheeks, much different from the ones she had last night.

“sophia…” you say gently, trying to calm her anger, even though the one inside of you was growing.

“and he fucking asked to get married. said it would fix everything, he would delete the evidence and i would be able to get back to my career. and i said yes, i never should’ve. should’ve just let my career die, but then he got records of us, our marriage. said he would leak that too, fuck.”

you continue to rub small circles, a gentle reminder that you were here, on her side.

“so i came back, to new mexico. i never wanted to ask for a divorce, i swear to you. and when you agreed, my heart shattered. i promised myself i would never love anyone the way i love you. we-we kept on being together, and i fell even harder than i could remember, i still wanted you as much as the first day i met you.” she brings her hand up to hold your head, vulnerable eyes searching for yours.

“i wanted something to keep, even if i had to be miserable for the rest of my life, i wanted to keep something of yours. i wanted to carry your kid. it was the only way i could have you close but keep you safe.” she cries a bit, still holding onto you, trembling fingers dancing along your jaw.

“anna. God gave me anna. God gave me her and i would never trade her for anything. she’s ours and she will always be.” 

“sophia, damn it.” your words are unstable, and you let out a single tear, the pain of thinking about her for two years coming back. all the pain and yearning for each other never subsided. for either side.

“i know, i know baby.” she cries continuing to cradle your jaw, leaving a kiss so soft it felt like a petal had fallen on your face. “it was selfish–but it was all i had. i knew our time was almost up, and i needed something of yours. it’s so selfish, but i could never regret having her.” 

you know in some twisted way what she was expressing. that night, two years ago, you wanted to leave something behind too. something for sophia to remember you by, the willingness to do everything she wanted, to even leave her with the possibility of carrying your child. you wanted it all.

“sophia, i was selfish too.” you confess, remembering how you felt that night, in the midst of the passion you realized how badly you wanted to leave your imprint on her too. “i’ve always, and i mean always, dreamed of having a big family with you. so when you asked me to, you know…i gave into that instinct, because it’s all i ever wanted.”

she stares at you, heart exploding in a thousand directions. she remembered very early on in your marriage, you bringing up wanting kids, maybe as a simple comment. but she couldn’t deny how happy you looked playing with her nieces and nephews.

“you want kids with me?” sophia asks.

“of course i do, fia.” you reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i always did, and i always will. even now i still do.” 

you shift a bit, pulling her into a hug with how stunned she looks at you. another explosion of warmth from her heart. even with a tormented past that held her instincts back, how she aches just the same for you. it drives her mad, you wanted everything she wanted and more.

you rub her back gently, enjoying the way she’s holding you so close. she drops her head onto your shoulders, and you do too. just contently laying on each other.

“so, what do we do?” you ask. you’re hoping sophia won’t go through with the divorce. everything that was shared here, in the bed that you two share, it’s something worth preserving.

she lifts her head off your shoulder, taking both of your hands in hers, a determined look in her eyes. 

“you remember lara?” she asks, a small smile on her eyes.

“of course.” you reply, pulling one of her hands towards you to give a small kiss, just across each knuckle.

“well, we found something, some dirt on thomas.” she starts, reaching for her phone and opening the photo album. “we’re going to leak it to the press, everything, all his partying problems, the coercion of marriage, my acting contract.”

she shows you everything, including the unsavory of parts of thomas’ addictive lifestyle. she even points out the clauses in thomas’ fathers inheritance. it’s all there in fine print, this would kill even the highest star’s reputation.

“but sophia, won’t this kill your career?” you ask, realizing there’s no way for her to get out of this freely. surely his team will try and ruin her, ruin everything that she’s worked so hard towards.

“we’re going to leak it to multiple sources, anonymously of course. we’ll leak it tomorrow morning. it’ll be the first day of freedom, i won’t be under his clutches anymore.” she says exasperatedly, dropping the phone onto her bed. 

“tomorrow? why tomorrow?” you ask, going back to holding her hands. 

“i wanted to tell you first, everything about me and my past, you should hear it from me. i didn’t want to leak it and have you find out that way. you deserved to hear it from me.” 

“thank you.” it meant more to you than she could ever know. you were tired of hearing about everything after the fact, almost like an afterthought. to hear about everything firsthand was a relief, she considered how you would feel and took the time to explain the situation to you.

she gives you a kiss, a soft one. one that blooms feelings of love in your chest once more.

“i’m sorry, for everything.” she expresses. 

“i know fia.” you respond, giving her a kiss that makes her wrap her arms around you, trying to deepen the kiss when you pull back. “but i need time, to process everything. i don’t think i can give you my heart as it is right now.” 

you want to, but how could you be expected to offer your heart on a silver platter even with everything that’s been revealed. a part of you still resents her for what she’s refused to tell you, you know it was because of thomas but still there are things that wound your heart. and you need time.

you two were by no means perfect, but you would try everything to make it so that you two could work. 

and sophia, she would try ten times harder to win your heart back.

she swore to God she would.

--

a/n: the much anticipated pt2 of the 'save a horse, ride a cowgirl' fic. i hope i have brought the story to justice. stay safe and stay healthy everyone. cheers, hope you've enjoyed!

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

۶ৎ . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝒮𝓎𝓃ℴ𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 : Phainon is the golden boy of the basketball court—graceful, confident, and undeniably skilled. Off the court, he’s soft-spoken and affectionate, always pulling you into his arms with quiet devotion. But when the moment heats up, that same control turns into something deeper—slow, deliberate, and absolutely devastating.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 : nsfw, cream pie, anal & vaginal, hickeys, biting, rough s*x, multiple of rounds, squirting, choking, spanking, p*ssy slapping, f*cking in the locker room, pet-names, & breeding kink.

Basketball player phainon! Who always plays with effortless grace making even the hardest plays look easy. He breaks a sweat, but when he does, he looks even hotter and sexier—blue hair damp, sharp eyes locked in focus.

Basketball player phainon! Who always pulls you into his arms after a game, murmuring, “Did you miss me?” Even though you were in the front row, cheering for him the whole time.

Basketball player Phainon! Who lets you wear his jersey, loving how it hangs off your frame. If anyone stares too long, he just smirks and pulls you closer, his hand resting possessively on your hip.

Basketball player Phainon! Who is soft-spoken and composed—until he gets you alone. Then, that smooth confidence shifts into something deeper, his hands gripping your hips, his voice dropping into a low murmur as he ruins you with slow, deliberate movements.

Basketball player Phainon! Who playfully bets that if he wins the game, you owe him a reward. But if he loses? He just leans in, whispering, "Guess I'll need you to make me feel better instead."

Basketball player Phainon! Who hates losing, but the moment he sees you waiting for him after the game, frustration melts into something else-something more primal. His team might not have won, but he knows exactly how to claim victory in another way.

Basketball player Phainon! Who drags you into the locker room after a rough game, pressing you against the cool metal as his hands find your waist. His voice is low, almost pleading, "Make me forget about tonight, baby."

Basketball player Phainon! Who starts off slow-soft kisses along your neck and then leaving small hickeys, gentle hands exploring your body, as if he's savoring you like a rare prize. But the more you whimper his name, the more desperate he becomes, frustration bleeding into every deep roll of his hips.

Basketball player Phainon! Who grips your thighs, spreading them just enough to pull you closer, his breath heavy against your skin. "You're always so good to me," he murmurs, voice dripping with praise as he completely loses himself in the way you feel.

Basketball player Phainon! Who fingers your pussy so well that you squirt all over his fingers, as he takes his fingers out and slaps your pussy gently but knowing a small note of ‘we aren’t done yet doll-face’

Basketball player Phainon! Who loves to stuff his cock in both of your holes, seeing his cum dripping down from them, your eyes rolled back to your head as he smirks, “Looks like princess loves to be filled with cum, especially mine.”

Basketball player Phainon! Who never gets tired of sex, fucking you all over again, mouth and two of your holes that are filled with his cum & cock.

Basketball player Phainon! Who has a deep, unspoken desire to claim you in the most primal way, especially when the thought of you carrying his child crosses his mind. He's not subtle about it, either. His hands are always gentle, but there's a certain intensity in his voice when he says things like, “You'd look so beautiful with my child inside you.”

Basketball player Phainon! Who gets lost in the thought of you, full of his love, his hands resting possessively on your hips as he presses into you, murmuring praises about how perfect you'd be as a mother. He's gentle, yet you can feel how deep his need to fill you truly is, his passion matching the force of his desire.

Basketball player Phainon! Who chokes you and spanks your ass during sex, knowing that you love it when he plays rough and takes control over you.

Basketball player Phainon! Who makes sure you can still feel him long after the game is over—legs weak, body marked with his love, and a smirk on his face as he pulls his jersey over your shoulders. “Now, I’d say that’s a win, wouldn’t you?”

Basketball player Phainon! Who holds you close after everything is over, his strong arms wrapped securely around you like he never wants to let go. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his breath warm as he presses lazy kisses to your hair.

Basketball player Phainon! Who tilts your chin up, looking into your tired, dazed eyes with nothing but pure affection. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my real MVP.”

Basketball player Phainon! Who tucks you under his chin, his fingers absentmindedly tracing soft patterns along your back. He lets out a satisfied sigh, completely relaxed now. “Gotta admit, losing doesn’t feel so bad when I have you waiting for me.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[loganficsonly]

smitten kitten

logan howlett x gn!reader, 2.7k SUMMARY: they say hanging out with a cat has health benefits—calms you down, slows your heart rate... but he's been experiencing the opposite. or maybe it's because you're in the picture. or, you and logan take care of a stray kitten together. WARNINGS/TAGS: i did not fucking edit this, thinking of x1/2 logan, no anatomical descriptions for reader, reader is a mutant with unspecified powers, reader loves cats obviously, slight grumpy x sunshine, logan has a thing for scents, FLUFF!!!, suggestive: minors do not interact!, domestic situations, mutual yearning but both are oblivious?, friends to lovers, i know nothing about cat maintenance AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my native language. my first logan fic! might be ooc but fuck it let him be soft!!!

He didn't think that this is how he gets to see you on your hands and knees in front of him.

The weather outside is nice and crisp, and he just felt like taking a smoke break. A quick fifteen minutes till his cigar turns to mostly ash before he has to take care of another History class. The breeze lured him outside, just by the backyard near the courts.

Perfect temperature. No kids running around—yet. All in all, a beautiful day.

He was about to light his vice when he saw you a few feet away, on all fours, fussing over something near the rose bushes. You don't seem to care about the way your pants and palms make contact with the dirt below.

An eyebrow raised. His thoughts are a mix of bemusement and... excitement, let’s call it.

When you were first introduced to him six months ago, having returned from a sabbatical that took you away from the institute, he remembered thinking that you’re going to get him into some deep shit if he’s not careful. Maybe it was the way you so easily addressed him. Offered a polite hello, an extended hand, and your name.

A real pretty name. As pretty as your fucking face.

Suddenly the what-ifs with Jean didn’t matter anymore. The magnet pull he feels around you is different than with the redhead, who he thinks he’s attracted to partly because she’s not actually available. A forbidden fruit.

With you, though...

He’s been around for too long to not be aware of the stuff swirling inside his ribcage whenever he sees you. The way his heart clenches ever so slightly when you greet him with a smile. When he sees you reading in the library, sunlight bathing one side of your face as you sit next to a window. When he trains with you, capturing your wrists to pin you down on the mat, forcing you to yield—the few sacred moments he’s allowed to put his hands on you.

Since you arrived, you and him have gotten along quite well with each other. Some would say you quickly became friends beyond your team-bound relations.

But Jesus, the things he thinks about late at night aren’t exactly friend thoughts.

He knows you could get him in trouble. Could hurt him if he lets you, inflict a kind of wound that he can’t regenerate from. The kind that stays. His survival up until now would not have been possible with a bleeding heart, no matter how tempting it is to fantasize about you being his every now and then—every night, more like.

So he swallows, shoves a hand in his pocket, and pretends to act normal. Even if your position is seriously testing his mental fortitude right now.

“What are you up to?”

You look over your shoulder behind you, still on all fours, surprised.

“Logan,” you sigh, neck craned in a weird position before you decide to focus on what's in front of you. “Come here. Slowly, would you?”

He can’t say no to you, but you don’t need to know that, so he silently walks over, eyebrows knitted as the grass beneath his boots crunches softly. Finally he sees it.

A grey tabby.

He blinks, looking down at it. It’s really small. The creature is tucked under a rose bush, looking at you and now him slightly warily. Though it looks reasonably trepidatious, there’s a hint of curiosity in the way its tail curls.

“I heard meowing while taking a walk,” you say, looking back at him with a smile. “Found this little thing.”

“What’s a kitten doing out here?” He huffs. Where they are in Westchester is nowhere near the usual stray cat grounds.

“I don’t know. I don’t see a mother, either,” you reply.

“So you’ve just been bent over here looking at it?”

You shoot him a chiding glare. “I’ve been meaning to get it out of there, but I didn’t want it to bolt.”

“Get it out and do what, exactly?” He stuffs the cigar he meant to light back into his jacket pocket. It’s clear he won’t have any time to smoke.

“Feed it, at least.” 

You smile when you see Logan now hunched over the bush, keeping an eye on the kitten while you rush back to your room to get a cat treat. “Of course you’d have one,” he murmured before you told him to stay put and watch the little thing.

After a few months of getting to know him, you conclude that the man is like one of those filled bonbon treats. Hard shell, but once you bite through it, sweetness oozes from the inside. You’re convinced he’s the same, but instead of being encased in wafer and tempered Belgian chocolate, he’s caged in layers of adamantium bone.

The fact that he actually waited for you and watched the cat like you asked convinces you even more.

“Got it,” you announce, showing him the puree stick. “The good stuff.”

He allows himself a small smile, glancing at the packaging that says ‘tuna flavored’. If anyone would splurge on treats for strays, it would be you.

You slowly move next to him, sitting cross-legged on the ground as he towers over you on your left while you tear the treat open. Instantly the kitten reacts, four little legs practically hobbling over to your seated form as it meows incessantly. You laugh.

Sounds so pretty, he thinks.

When the kitten eagerly enters the space between your thighs, pawing at your hand, you lower the treat against its mouth. “Someone’s hungry,” cooing as your fingers stroke down its little body while it laps up the puree.

Logan sits down next to you, watching you quietly. He listens to the soft whispers you’re uttering, as if they’re only meant for the creature’s ears. Eyes fixed on the way your fingers slowly run up and down its furry spine.

“Good kitty.”

“That taste good?”

“You're so small, baby.”

He’s grateful that he’s the one with heightened senses for mutant abilities. If you were, you’d think he’s having a heart attack right now, with how fast the cursed thing is beating.

Cute. Too fucking cute.

“You like cats?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He lets out a non-committal grunt. You smile, taking that as a yes.

Come to think of it, he acts a little bit like one, too. A spicy stray that takes a while to socialize, but is sweet after some time, space, and tender loving care. Rough around the edges with mystery.

That sort of behavior just makes you want to peel back his layers, to see behind his hazel eyes, to know him. That’s why you make his coffee together with yours in the morning. Why you sit next to him at lunch. Why you accept invites to spar, despite knowing that within two minutes he’ll have your back pressed against the ground, his large hand caging your wrists above your head...

Yep, you tell yourself. Just curiosity.

Quickly, you thrust the treat into Logan’s hand and gently pry the kitten to sit on his knee instead. He lets out a noise of protest, surprised at the warmth of your hand over his and then the feather-light weight on his knee, but it’s too late. The ravenous beast puts its front paws on his hand, pulling it closer to its maw so it can continue to gorge on the treat.

He glares at you. You can tell it’s half-hearted, judging by the way his gaze softens when it lands back to the kitten. You purse your lips when you see his free hand petting the creature, the one not holding the treat. His hand is so big... compared to the cat, you quickly course-corrected your thought.

What a good day to have eyes.

You never thought you’d see Logan this soft—he has his moments, especially throughout the course of your friendship, but this is next level. You wish you could take a photo.

“What do you think we should do with it?” you ask softly, watching the rare scene before you.

“So it’s ‘we’ now,” he smirks. “You’re the one who fed it first.”

“You are now, too,” you retort.

“You know what they say. If you feed ‘em, they’ll come back.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He looks at you, hazel eyes boring into yours, and you feel your stomach do a little flip. His voice is low and guttural. “You gonna take care of it?”

Your mind went elsewhere, the way he said that. When you speak, it’s soft, not wanting your voice to accidentally crack. “You’re not going to help me?”

He’s quiet. You look back at him expectantly.

There’s a slight roll of his eyes as he looks away. He thinks you can’t see. “Fine.”

You smile, pleased with yourself. The kitten licks at the plastic, cleaning up the last of the puree before it meows once at Logan, beady eyes meeting his sharper ones. Logan picks the kitten up by the scruff, setting it down on the ground next to him, but it still looks up at him expectantly.

“We should name—” you lift it up, peeking down between the creature’s legs, “him.”

Logan looks at you with a slight glint of amusement. “Yeah?”

Humming, you pet the cat absentmindedly as he begins to groom himself, licking his front paws and brushing his face. “What’s grey… Cloud? Sky? Storm? I don’t know if she’d appreciate that.” You murmur.

The kitten pauses, turning to look at you. You look back at it. It lets out a single high-pitched peep. 

“Smokey?”

When your gaze shifts to Logan’s face, there’s an upturn of his lip, as if you said something funny. How apt, he realizes, that this entire ordeal derailed his smoke break. 

“I like it,” he says. A delighted smile on your face melts something inside of him.

And that is how Logan ended up coparenting Smokey with you—or Smokes, as you like to call him. 

You’ve gone to the city twice to get Smokey vaccinated and microchipped, Logan coming along with you both times. He claimed he had nothing better to do. You thought it was extremely nice of him to do—he must really be a cat person. 

It got a little awkward when the vet initiated small talk by asking if you had a child at home to play with the kitten, flustering you into saying that you’re not with him like that.

“We’re just friends,” you said.

Friends who happened to be taking care of a cat together. That’s totally normal, right?

If Logan had fur it would’ve bristled right then and there.

But even he had to admit that taking care of Smokey had its perks. You didn’t want to bother Logan too much with the kitten and happily volunteered to keep Smokey in your room, at least until he’s big enough. This meant that Logan had a free visit pass to your otherwise private quarters. Once, you asked him to watch Smokey if he could while you taught back-to-back classes till late. He assented. 

Little did he know it would be sweet torture, being in your bedroom. He noticed your blanket folded neatly on the bed, revealing the crinkles of the sheets outlining where you laid. He could see your body there, asleep. What do you wear when you go to bed, he wondered? 

And God, don’t even get him started on your scent… It’s a spell on him, more of an addiction than his existing vices. Warm and sweet. Vanilla, honey, cinnamon. Like a fucking cake. The entire room smells like you, enveloping him. He’s not strong enough to fight that, wanted nothing but to bury his nose in your pillow just to get a lungful of you. 

That first time, he only kept the cat company for less than half an hour before deciding that the raging tent in his jeans needed more attention. Preferably under a cold shower in his own quarters.

You, on the other hand, didn’t expect him to be so willing and involved.

He isn’t as affectionate as you are with the cat, of course, but he’s… softer. One time you came back to your room to see him sitting at your desk, a book in hand while the cat lies on his lap, belly up. The peaceful sight is enough to release a violent army of butterflies in your stomach. You’ve mentally filed that image for any coming bad days.

Also, you like how you’re much closer to Logan now. Not that you don’t love Smokey. It’s just that having the kitten around makes for an easy excuse to get to hang out with the man more. You went to town together to buy some cat supplies because he insists on splitting the cost. The two of you spent a good ten minutes deciding what collar color would go with Smokey’s eyes (you’re the undecided one, Logan was pretty much set on the dark green since the very beginning).

More brushes of hands, his palm clasped over yours when you hand him Smokey to carry. Speaking to each other quietly when in your room and the cat’s asleep, his voice a low baritone that you find yourself replaying at night when you slip into slumber, warming you up in more than just one place…

Friends taking care of a cat together. What a lie, you say to yourself before falling asleep.

Logan has had enough.

He realizes this as he watches you coddle the tabby after feeding time, a thing you do every so often. Smokey is on your lap while you sit with your knees close to your chest, nose-to-nose with you. You pinch his cheeks, showering him with soft coos of endearments and kisses, attention zeroed in to only him.

“Good job finishing the food.” Kiss. “You’re getting big, aren’t you, Smokes? So handsome.” Smooch. “Love you, baby.”

The cat purrs audibly like a damn motorcycle, eyes closed to form two slits while he surrenders himself to your affections.  

Meanwhile, Logan’s jaw tenses as the scene unfolds. He knows what he’s feeling, and if it were a different time and place he’d laugh. He’s fucking jealous of a fucking cat. It actually hurts him a little to watch this, as pathetic as it sounds.

He takes a deep breath, collecting himself as he prepares to leave, hand on the doorknob. You notice, putting Smokey down before catching him by the doorway.

Logan tenses at a hand on his bicep. Your voice is calming, a genuine smile on your face.

“Thanks for helping out with Smokey again today.”

A crack in his hard-shelled heart.

You gasp when he turns, a strong hand on your shoulder pushing you inside the room, the door slamming shut the same time your back hits the wall next to it. His form looms over yours as he crowds you, an arm rests above your head, caging you in. 

“Logan—”

He tilts his face as he moves closer, breath warm on your face. “I swear, if I hear you say that damn cat’s name again…”

A small noise escapes you as you feel him press his nose into the crook of your neck. The way you angle your chin up to give him more space is almost automatic, like you’ve thought of this before—because you have. He inhales shakily. A shiver runs down your spine when he pulls away just enough to look you in the eye, his other hand snaking up your waist.

You’re not the only one who’s thought about this.

“What about Smokey?”

He swallows, mouth dry when he hears your voice. Sultrier even as a whisper, baiting him. The way your eyes soften, looking up at him, half-lidded. He catches the drop of your gaze to his lips and feels his blood pump with some feral energy, an unbearable surge. Your hands snake up on his chest, fingers gently closing around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him a little bit closer. 

Fuck.

You want him too.

“Sweetheart,” he growls, lips nearly against yours, “let me make you my pet for once.”

the fem!reader ending line would be:

"Sweetheart," he growls, lips nearly against yours, "the only kitty I care about is the one between your fuckin' legs."

that would be so unhinged ngl

[be-my-sunrise]

Court-side Fever || z.cl

pairings: bf!chenle x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors pls dni

word count: 1,826

warnings: car sex, unprotected sex, pussy and thigh slapping, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, tit play. let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: happy new year's everyone! i hope you all enjoy your holiday :D i haven't posted in a while and i apologize for not being active here😞 anyways, enjoy this chenle fic! watching him play basketball does things to me, so i decided to write about it lmao

special thanks to @onriyuview @notyourjaem @lovetaroandtaemin @jenoslutie for helping me out🩵 ily teehee :3

“Good game, dude. See you next week!”

Chenle daps Mark up and leaves the basketball court. After bidding his goodbyes to Haechan and Jeno as well, he jogs towards where you’re sitting and grabs his water bottle. 

“Babe, do you want to order food at home, or should we go to a drive-thru?” He asks before downing his water.

However, you barely heard what he said. You don’t usually come with him when he’s playing basketball with his friends, mainly because Chenle feels bad about having you wait hours for him. But you insisted on tagging along this time, and boy, you were glad you did. 

Seeing him play and watching his moves on the court after so long has you in a trance. You find yourself rubbing your thighs together subconsciously almost the entire time. It's clear that he does things to your body, and it's evident in the way your panties stick to your core.

Now that he’s standing before you, lust clouds your mind, and every inch of your body is fighting the urge to take him on this bench. He looks so ravishing, all sweaty like this, the sun behind him like a paid actor. 

The cast of warm golden light around him only emphasizes the droplets of sweat on his dewy skin, and it’s not doing much to help with your situation.

Chenle glances at you when he doesn't hear any response. He waves one hand in front of your face. “Baby?”

You blink your eyes a couple of times, waking yourself up from your daze. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” 

“Did you even hear what I just said?”

“Uhh… no?” You look away nervously, which makes him chuckle. “Should we just order in? You seem a bit tired.”

More like aroused, but he’s right, you are somewhat tired. Tired of squeezing your thighs together. You need him so badly that you can’t even think straight. Realizing that Chenle is waiting for your answer, you give him a nod as a response.

“Alright then, let’s go home!”

Chenle leans down to pick up his bag from the ground beside your feet, and you suck in a sharp breath when you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells so fucking good, and it's driving you insane.

You stand up abruptly, almost bumping into his head in the process. He grabs your arm before you could walk away and pulls you close. “Baby, why are you being weird today? Are you okay?”

One proper look at him is all it takes for you to crash your lips against his. You practically throw your body onto Chenle, making him yelp when his back hits the fence. The kiss catches him off guard, but he quickly snaps out of it.

“You're so fucking hot, baby. I need you so bad,” you say in between kisses and feel him smirk.

You bunch his shirt up in a fit of desperation, exposing his toned abs. Chenle quickly snatches your wrist away when he feels you tugging on the waistband of his shorts. 

“Slow down, baby,” he says after pulling away. “Let's continue this in the car, yeah?”

He chuckles when he sees your face light up. You're buzzing with excitement as you drag him to his car, quite literally shoving him inside and straddling him in a blink of an eye.

You connect your lips with his again while grinding your core against his bulge. Chenle pulls your hips down to make you feel his hardening member even more. You run your fingers through his damp hair, giving it a slight pull. 

The kiss gets messier as the two of you get more desperate. He pulls away to catch his breath and tilts his head to give you more access as you start to leave hickeys across his neck. A small moan escapes his lips when you lick a stripe across his salty skin and blow cool air on the fresh red marks.

“If I had known you’d be like this, I would’ve taken you with me a long time ago,” he says breathlessly.

“I feel the same way, baby. I forgot how hot you look when you’re playing basketball,” you giggle. “At least we know better now.”

Chenle lays you down on the seat before pulling your pants down along with your panties in one swift motion. He smirks at the sight of your leaking core. 

“Fuck, baby. You must really like watching me play, hm? You soaked through your panties,” he says as he dangles your panties next to his face. 

You bite down on your lower lip when drags his finger along your slit, hips twitching as he lands a light slap on your clit. He pushes his pants down with one hand while rubbing your sensitive bud with the other. 

You feel a shiver down your spine when Chenle taps his cock on your clit, letting out a moan as he spreads your arousal across your pussy. You wait for him to push it in, but he continues to rub his cock against your slit and you start getting impatient. 

“You're so fucking wet I could just slip in easily,” he moans, admiring the mess he's making.

“Stop teasing and put it in then!” 

You snap and roll your eyes at Chenle, which makes him raise an eyebrow at your sudden change of attitude. 

“It’s cute that you think you can talk to me like that,” he scoffs. Chenle grips your thigh before landing a slap on it, making you flinch.

“You should be grateful that I’m hard as fuck right now, otherwise I would leave you untouched,” he says as he pulls you up by your arm. “On your knees.”

You quickly adjust your position, standing on your knees and placing your hands on the backrest. You let out a yelp when he pulls your head back by your hair, feeling his hot breath on your ear. 

“I've been spoiling you too much, and now you’re giving me attitude.”

You moan as he slowly rubs your clit. “Chenle, please.”

“Please what baby?” He teases while nibbling on your ear.

You try to form words but you can’t think straight. Your pussy is throbbing and the feeling of his hands on you makes you dizzy.

“Please… I need you,” you whine. Chenle lets out a condescending laugh seeing you push your ass back, grinding against his cock. 

“You can do better than that,” he says before slapping your ass.

“Fuck! Please, baby, I need you so bad. Need your cock inside me now, please.”

A gasp escapes your lips as Chenle pushes his cock all the way inside you, letting you adjust to his size for a moment as he leaves kisses on your neck. He pulls his cock out almost entirely, leaving just the tip before pushing himself back in all the way. 

His thrusts are deep and rough, your breath getting caught in your throat each time his hips slam against yours.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whispers before pulling on your hair once more. “Always so tight and wet.”

“O-only for you,” your voice trembles, barely managing to say anything.

He chuckles, “Is that so? Such a good girl.” 

Chenle slips both hands underneath your shirt, giving your tits a nice grip before pulling down your bra. He tugs on your nipples and rolls them between his fingers, making you throw your head back to rest on his shoulder as he continues thrusting relentlessly.

The car shakes with each thrust, and only the sounds of skin slapping and your broken moans can be heard. The grip you have on the seat tightens as Chenle angles his hips to push his cock even deeper, earning a loud moan from you.

Your thighs tremble as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. He places one hand on the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss, and you moan into the kiss when you feel his fingers sneak their way onto your clit. 

“Baby, I'm-”

“Close? I know, baby. You keep clenching around me,” he chuckles. He picks up the pace and rubs your clit faster. “Cum for me, baby. Cream all over my cock.”

Your jaw goes slack as the pleasure overwhelms you. The way you're squeezing his cock makes him dizzy. Chenle lets out a groan, his thrusts getting sloppier as he reaches his climax. 

He pushes his cock all the way inside you as he cums, and you grind your hips against his to help him ride out his high. He presses a kiss on your temple before pulling out of your warmth.

You gasp as he cups your pussy and flicks his fingers against your slit with a quick motion, making his cum drip onto the leather seat. He tugs on your shirt as a signal for you to take it off. 

“Lay down on your back for me, baby,” he says with a low tone.

You lay back down on the seat and he spreads your legs wide. Chenle pulls your bra down to expose your hardened nipples and leans over to latch his lips around one of them. 

He shoves his fingers inside your pussy as he flicks his tongue on your nipple and you suck in a sharp breath, back arching from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby. Feels so good,” you moan. 

You place your hand on his head to feel him even closer as he sucks on your nipple, making you whimper. You're still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so it doesn't take long until you feel the familiar knot again.

“Oh, god. I'm gonna cum again, baby.”

Chenle unlatches his lips from your nipple and straightens his back, pushing his fingers all the way inside before curling them. The intensity of his fingers has you crying out in pleasure as you reach your second climax, legs convulsing as he pulls his fingers out and starts rubbing your clit quickly. 

Your legs clamp around his arm, but he uses his other hand to spread them apart and hold them down. Chenle slaps your clit harshly after you come down from your high, making your hips twitch. 

He grips your tits using the hand that's still wet with your arousal, flicking the bud until your chest starts to tremble and you let out a shaky breath from the tingly sensation. 

He leans down to kiss you once more before tucking his cock back into his pants. You were about to get up and redress yourself, but Chenle stops you. You look at him confused.

“You're staying like this until we get home, baby,” he says with a smirk on his face. 

He grabs one of your hands and places it on your core. Then, Chenle climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts his mirror so he can watch you play with yourself.  

“Just keep that pretty little pussy of yours wet for me.”

a/n: save me basketball player chenle😵‍💫🫠 thank you for reading<3 i hope you like it!

[azrielbrainrot]

Illicit Affair

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: vaginal sex, semi public sex, dirty talk, not proofread, idk what this is

You knew better than to let him walk you into any vacant room or closet. You knew someone could catch you, knew it was incredibly hard to keep quiet when he played your body like a finely tuned instrument, like he played his shadows. The problem was that every little thought seemed to escape your mind when he so much as looked at you. This male held an amount of control over you that you never should have allowed anyone to, let alone the spymaster of the Night Court.

Azriel's hand presses against your mouth more firmly as another moan threatens to escape you. His hips never slow down as he drives his cock in and out of you, sending wave after wave of uninterrupted pleasure washing over your trembling body. If it weren't for the way he pressed you against the door, strong arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you pressed flush against him, your legs would probably have given up on you already.

“Keep quiet for me.” His deep voice groaning in your ear has the opposite effect, a whine crawling up your throat and echoing around the room despite his efforts to keep you silent. “Or do you wanna get caught? Wanna tell everyone why you're letting a bastard like me fuck you however I want?” The way your cunt clenched around him almost makes you doubt yourself. You didn't, you couldn't.

“Is that so?” You shake your head, but it's all in vain as his hands move to your hips, his shadows taking on the responsibility of keeping you upright, back arched just how he likes it, leaving you to keep your moans down by yourself if you can. “Could have told me sooner. You know how much I like hearing you scream my name.”

Cruel. Azriel was so cruel, horrible even. He would be in as much trouble as you if someone were to find him like this. All the fight leaves your body as he keeps hitting that spot that makes you see stars with every fast, rough snap of his hips, making you forget the scalding words you were about to throw at him when a familiar decadent feeling starts unraveling on your lower belly.

You can hear the smirk on his voice as he rasps out, “That's it. Be a good girl and cum for me.” He knew, of course he knew. Cunt fluttering wildly around his cock, sinful squelching sounds echoing around the room along with heavy breaths and barely concealed whiny moans. Everything felt too sensitive. “Let everyone know who's making you feel this good.” And so you do, your body obeying him blindly as it always does, his name a delicious tune as it escapes your lips.

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN: edging with sub!higuruma

kinktober masterlist

“I think I hate you.”

You have to laugh at the tortured way in which Hiromi speaks. He’s a mess, hair strewn over his forehead, skin glossed with sweat, cock angry with need.

“That’s not very nice,” you hum, languidly stroking at his cock. You don’t want to go too fast, ruin the awful buildup you’ve been working at. “You should be kinder to the person with your dick in hand.”

Hiromi bites the inside of his cheek. You’ve brought him to the edge three times now just to let his orgasm die the moment it starts to crest. He’d prefer a ruined orgasm at this point—anything other than the torture of denial. He's a hard worked man, stressed, and this is no way to wind down after a particularly hard case.

But god do you feel good; even just your hand, though Hiromi knows he'll be begging for more of you by the end of the night. Your fist squeezes around his cock in a way much like you would if you were riding him instead, soaking him in the mess he makes of you... he can't handle the imagery, his fourth potential orgasm starts to rise in his chest.

Maybe if he doesn't tell you he's going to cum, you won't realise. He thinks on it, focuses on the sweet coos of praise that slip from your lips and enhance his pleasure ten-fold, and groans. God, he wants to be good for you, to experience the sweet reward for doing so. He doesn't want to disappoint, doesn't want to do anything other than please you.

"I'm close," he bites, hating himself for giving in so easy. His chest heaves with each buck of his hips into your hand, he's really chasing a release, and it brings a smile to your lips.

"I know," you say, and Hiromi can feel the god-awful twitch in your hand as you start to slow down your movements.

"No, please—"

"Don't beg," you hum and release his cock entirely; he has half a mind to reach down and stroke himself through a mediocre orgasm to stunt the awful wait. "You're going to cum when I let you cum, baby, begging won't sway me. Just enjoy it."

Enjoy it? Hiromi could laugh, how can he enjoy repeat denial? Even if your hands on him are godlike and he'd rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world. Even if he doesn't pick up on how loud he's being, how much he's writhing, how fucking good it really feels. Your Hiromi has a habit of getting stuck in his own head.

That's why he hardly registers it when you're climbing over him and sinking down onto his cock with a sharp gasp. When Hiromi finally catches up to your movements, and he's able to untangle his grip from the sheets to rest on your hips instead, he thinks he's seen heaven.

He's so fucking sensitive, and you feel so good around him—warm and wet and sensual in so many ways your hand just can't compare with. Suddenly, as you roll your hips against him and lean down to kiss at his jaw, he gets it.

"Holy shit." "Told you."

He's barely just come down from his last potential orgasm when he feels another one bubbling in his lower abdomen. He feels ashamed, almost, of how quick he's going to cum now that he's finally inside of you—that is if you let him finish, of course. He knows you told him not to beg but he can't help the string of 'please baby please' that falls from his trembling lips.

You smile against his jaw, press a delicate kiss to his freshly-shaved skin and whisper something in his ear that he'd argue in front of a court is on par with a heavenly commandment. "Cum for me, 'Romi."

Fuck seeing stars, Hiromi's vision is lost on him completely as your words force the most intense orgasm of his life to wrack through him. He feels it in his bones, in his fingertips that dig into your waist, in his lungs that empty themselves of air as he cries a sweet release. He's never cum this hard. He's never cum this much—he's still balls-deep inside of you can can feel his cum being forced out of you and down his thighs.

What could have been a painful five orgasms tonight is rolled into one, and Hiromi is left gasping for air and struggling to keep his thoughts in check as you roll your hips and help him ride out the overbearing pleasure.

"Say it," you tease, and though Hiromi is fucked stupid, he still manages to roll his eyes.

"You were right, I was wrong."

"Good," you hum, and bring your hips up a little just to drop back down on his aching length. "Because you're going to keep still until I cum too."

[snow-blower]

Prettiest Thing

Robb Stark x Pregnant!reader.

MASTERLIST

A/N: This wasn't supposed to go over 500 words... Summary: Robb loves the way you look, especially with your baby bump. He wants to make sure you see yourself the way he does — absolutely beautiful. BASED ON THIS ASK HERE. TW: SMUT 18+, messily written but written with love, pregnancy sex, breeding kink (kind of), body image issues, praise kink, gentle manhandling. Let me know if i've missed anything!

Robb stands behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he holds you close. His chin is resting atop your head, your hair tickling his chin. In front of you both is a mirror — the same mirror he has been refusing to let you look away from for the past ten minutes.

“See how beautiful you are, sweet girl?” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and thick with a love that danced dangerously with desire.

His hands cradle the swell of your stomach, his touch a tenderness that makes your heart pound faster in your chest. But after a lingering moment, one of his hands trails up your side, the fabric of your sheer shift bunching beneath the movement. His hand cups your breast, your breath catches in your throat as his thumb brushes against your nipple.

You try to duck your head, embarrassment warming your already flushed cheeks. But even as you try, Robb catches your jaw with his hand, gently guiding you to look back at your reflection. Your mouth opens to speak but nothing coherent comes out. All you can manage is a small broken, needy sound.

“No hiding,” he growls softly, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “I want you to see yourself how I see you — so fucking pretty.”

A trembling breath leaves your parted lips as Robb's hand slides from your jaw, trailing down your throat and your chest until it finds the curve of your hip. It's a touch so worshipful, yet possessive all the same.

He watches you in the mirror, notes the deep hue on your cheeks and the ragged rise and fall of your chest. To him, you're completely and utterly perfect. Even like this. Especially like this. He just wants you to see that.

Robb's seen the way your eyes linger on the mirror as you dress in the morning, they way you hesitate. He knows you don't think he desires you when you're in this state. He, too, has heard the whispers of those ladies and court. And it pains him, the thought that you could ever doubt how desperately he still wants you. Hell, he needs you. You're so beautiful to him, even round, soft and carrying his child.

Robb's fingers carefully hook under the hem of your shift, dragging it up slowly to bare more of your soft skin to him. He lets the fabric bunch around your hips, his hand splaying possessively across your stomach once more to keep the fabric there.

"Robb," You whine, the coldness hitting you a stark difference from the warmth radiating from your core. It sends a shiver down your spine and has goosebumps rising along your thighs.

Robb smirks against your temple, humming low in his throat. The sound vibrates through your body as his on your hip glides lower, slipping between your thighs.

His fingers find you already soaked, practically dripping as his fingers glide along your slit. The groan he lets out is nothing short of desperate.

“Fuck,” he rasps, burying his face against the delicate curve of your neck. “You're so perfect. So fucking perfect and ready for me.”

Gathering the wetness there, he brings his fingers to circle your clit. Your head falls back against his shoulder at his touch, hands scrambling to clutch at his wrists.

All you can do is whimper his name once more, a shaky moan escaping you as Robb’s fingers work you. They're slow and steady, circling with the kind of patience that leaves you trembling beneath him. The heat pools low in your core, spreading through every vein and filling your every sensation with nothing but pure need. A need for more touch, more of his touch, more of him.

“Ah, eyes open, dove.” He growls once more as he notices your eyes fluttering shut. When you don't immediately open them again, his fingers dip lower, gathering more of your slickness before slowly, carefully, slipping two fingers past your entrance.

Your eyes snap open then, wide and glistening. You clench instinctively around his fingers, a broken gasp falling from your parted lips.

"That's it," He coos, dipping his head to kiss the exposed skin of your neck. All the while, his fingers begin moving in slow, gentle pumps. He tilts your hips just so, his fingers slipping deeper.

Nodding towards the mirror, he speaks once more, more teasingly this time. "Look, dove. Look at how well you take me — look at how gorgeous you look."

Your lip trembles and your gaze wavers, daring to flick up to his face in the reflection. His eyes are blown wide with lust, flicking from between your thighs, your face, and the swell of your stomach where his other hand rests — almost as though he can't quite decide which to focus on first. But then his eyes are meeting yours in the mirror and the lust behind them gentles. It gentles into something that has you melting beneath him, your hips grinding down against his hand.

You give in then, forgetting any desire to fight back, to deny the truth he so easily claims. He sees it, sees the way you finally look at yourself in the mirror. Not just a quick glance. No — for the first time since the swell of your baby began growing, you looked. Really looked.

Robb gives you a moment, though he doesn't pause the movements of his fingers, continuing the slow, almost teasing pace. His eyes are heavy with something deeper than lust now. Pride. Devotion. Adoration.

"Say it."

You let out a sound of confusion mixed with pleasure. You meet his eyes once more, yours questioning where his are narrowed.

"Say it. I need you to say it, darling — I know it's true but I need you to know it is, too." His words are almost desperate now, pleading for you to see what he sees in the mirror. A woman whose beauty compares to none other.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your hands tightening around his wrists, your nails leaving crescent shaped indents there. You stutter, stumbling over words as you tried to find the ones he wanted to hear, the pleasure shooting through your veins and coiling in your core making any and all attempts difficult.

You stammer around the moans and whimpers his fingers pull from you, "I'm pretty, Robb. I'm… I'm pretty," you manage, voice wobbling and hardly sounding like you, but sounding true nonetheless.

Robb groans low in his throat, your words — your admission — the most precious thing he's heard in all his life.

"You're beautiful, so fucking beautiful, my darling dove," he whispers fiercely as he pulls his fingers from you with a lewd pop.

You whine at the loss, your hips immediately bucking, trying to bring his fingers back. Robb is quick to soothe you, his hand moving from your stomach to caress the push of your hip before reaching for one of your hands.

"Easy, love." He murmurs against your ear, his other hand — still wet with the evidence of his touch — reaching to grasp your other hand. He guides you forward, bringing your hands to grasp either side of the mirror frame.

"Keep your hands there, dove."

You nod, doing as he says, fingers trembling as they curl around and grasp the frame. You feel his hands on your hips once more, bending you over just enough to bare yourself to him fully. You swallow thickly, daring to look over your shoulder at him.

Robb meets your gaze in the mirror as he nudges at your entrance, slow and teasing before he finally — finally begins to push into you.

It's slow. Achingly, so. Every inch is a sweet, delicious stretch that has your lips parting and eyes rolling back before fluttering shut once more.

"Eyes, dove. Let me see those pretty eyes." Robb reminds you, chuckling softly as your eyes snap open to meet his in the reflection once more.

You clinger tighter, more desperately to the mirror as he finally bottoms out with a low groan, his forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. His curls brush against your jaw as he holds you there for a moment, letting you get used to him for a moment.

He then starts to move, pulling out before slowly thrusting back in with measured movements. Each thrust is a slow, roll of your hips, each one making your body rock slightly against the mirror.

His hands roam — brushing over your hips, your belly, your waist — like he can't choose where to touch your first.

"Fuck, love," he murmurs as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "You feel so good...so perfect, taking me so well."

Each meeting of his hips against your own is a deliberate movement, angled just right, to give you the most pleasure.

You watch in the mirror, the way your bodies move together, how your skin glows, flushed and shining with sweat and love. Robb's eyes are glued to yours, his brows furrowed and jaw tight with restraint.

Unable to completely hold back fully, his pace quickens, each thrust a little rougher, a little more frantic as he watches you in the mirror.

"Gods, look at you," he pants as one band slides up your chest to palm at your breast. "My good girl."

You sob out a sound, hips bucking back to meet each of his thrusts, seeking more and chasing the pleasure that's coiling so tight inside you it feels like you're going to shatter.

The mirror rattles beneath you both, the sound mixing with your needy moans and desperate gasps, and Robb's growls and sharp breathes. Your reflections blur even as you try your best to focus, blinking back the glaze of need and desire in your eyes.

You can't even bring yourself to form words anymore, the moans and gasps preventing any words coherent from falling through.

Robb slides a hand between your thighs once more, fingers finding your clit once more, the pace matching his thrusts. It's too much, your walls flutter around him, your thighs trembling and knees threatening to buck from beneath you.

And then he hits that spot inside you so perfectly. Before you know it the waves of pleasure were crashing down onto you, dragging you under like a whirlpool. You trembled, gasped and shattered beneath him like a fragile thing in his hands. You didn't even realise you were crying out his name until you heard it echo around your chambers.

Robb follows soon after, hips stuttering with a final deep thrust inside of you. He's lost in the feelings of you clenching around him, your cries ringing in his ears and mixing with the string of curses and messy praise that fell from his own lips.

Robb pants against you, his forehead slick against your shoulder as he rests there, still buried deep inside you. He holds you up and steady even as your legs threaten to give out from beneath you.

He doesn't let go of your right away. Instead, he keeps his chest pressed against your back as you both regain your breath. His hands soothe gentle circles over your hips, belly, and anywhere he can reach. He murmurs soft praises and reassurance beneath his breath, pressing a trail of kisses along your shoulder, up your jaw, before finally capturing your lips with his own.

He cups your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss before pulling away. He presses a soft peck before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

"You did so well, my sweet girl." He murmurs, brushing his nose against yours affectionately.

After a moment, he slowly pulls out of you, helping you stand properly. One hand splays protectively over your belly as he kisses anywhere he can reach. Your shoulders, your temple, your knuckles. He smooths out your shift, letting it fall back down your thighs.

When your knees threaten to give out once more, Robb's already there, scooping you up without hesitation. He carries you to bed, murmuring soft praises and gentle reassurance against your skin.

Once you're tucked in, he fusses — fetching a damp cloth to clean you up before draping a fur blanket over your body. He presses little kisses to your forehead and nose as he does, making sure you're absolutely comfortable before climbing in beside you and holding you close.

[artdcnaldson]

*taps mic* "Ahem... jerking Art off and making him swallow his own cum"

The crowd boos. "That's disgusting!" One yells. "He'd never do that!" Another shouts. Then, everyone gasps and turns around as someone in the back stands and speaks up. "Yes, he would." Says no other than Arthur Clive Donaldson himself.

Alternatively.... cumming in you and then eating you out...

And the crowd goes... home!

🚬

Sighhhh <3

But yeah <3 Especially thinking very hard about jerking off sweet little 2006 Art. Perhaps even comforting him in your hotel room after he's lost the junior US Open final </3

He wants to feel desired, like he's won something. So he feels vindicated when you're clinging to his side, all starry eyed and happy to be in his presence. Patrick is across the room talking to Tashi, showing off his trophy with that dazzling, perfect, smarmy, frustrating smile of his. So he tries to focus on you, as you tell him about how you also won in the mixed doubles tournament, and you saw his final that morning and you thought he played really well.

It doesn't take much convincing to get him to your hotel room— he didn't really want to stay at the afterparty anyway, feeling like Anna Mueller with his stupid little plate engraved— Art Donaldson, runner up. He feels better on your bed, with your tongue down his throat, moaning into your mouth as you strip him out of the fancy outfit his grandma had bought him, expecting a win. A nice white button down, black slacks, his grandad's cufflinks. Even a goddamn tie.

"You're so hot," you murmur against his lips, once he's down to his boxers and you can feel him hard, tenting the fabric. "Can I touch you?"

And, fuck, on a night like this, who is he to refuse?

Your hands are so so soft around him, slick from spit so he can glide in your palm. Slow, practiced. You kiss him so sweetly as you jerk him off, tongue brushing his, licking into his mouth. You can taste the soda he had at the party, the cigarette he'd puffed on while you waited for your shuttle back to the hotel.

"Jesus that's—" He trails off, hips bucking up into your fist, seeking more. But you set the pace, and you want this to be slow. So you just smile, nod and kiss his jaw. You twist your fist a bit and make him groan, so his head falls back and you can trail your hot kisses down his throat. "God, you're killing me."

You relish in having him like this— panting and falling apart in your hand, literally. Art Donaldson— golden boy on the court. You toy with him— slowing down when his moans get too fast, when you feel his balls drawing up and his cock pulsing... speeding up when you want to feel his breath hot, panting against your throat, his kisses insistent.

He doesn't even have time to warn you before he's spilling into your hand. Hot, thick ropes that drip between your fingers. He groans and buries his face in your shoulder, embarrassed by his inability to last during a simple handjob.

"Sorry, that's... sorry," He stammers, his cheeks pretty pink. His cock flags, just a bit between his thighs, and you know this isn't the first time you'll make him cum that night. Not even close.

You kiss his cheek once, then bring your fingers up to his lips. He hesitates, just a moment, before his tongue peeks out, lapping at his spend on your fingers. His nose wrinkles, just a bit at the unfamiliar taste, but he obeys, until there's no trace of him left on your palm other than his spit.

You kiss his lips and taste his cum on his tongue. It doesn't take long for him to get hard again.

[everrinsly]

a/n; for those who ever doubted you, knock 'em dead, soldier. think i wrote this during finals week when i was in uni.

this one is very special to me because it reminds me of myself; i remember i wrote it to the song "sooner or later" by mat kearney ahh

college year vibes.

burn the whole league with suna. fluff. slight angst. sakusa and tsukishima mentioned.

more reads!

~~~~~

[Then]

He wasn't the star, not even a star. And maybe... he never will be. As sad as that sounded, it felt like the truth.

Suna had just finished a rough match. One of those games where nothing clicked, where his blocks were off, where his timing felt late by milliseconds that cost everything. His coach felt it, his teammates felt it, he felt it. And you. YOU felt it.

And it's not like his university's volleyball team was bad—no, they were real fucking good actually. Made it to Collegiate Nationals every year, which was why everything was riding on him harder. Because this loss was on him.

Now, Suna sat on the edge of the press stage, towel hanging over his shoulders, face blank, void of any and all emotions. Cameras on him and his teammates.

Until the reporter spoke.

“This question is for Suna—do you still plan to go pro? Division I?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Simple. One word. Because that was all he could push out right now.

Another reporter leered forward, voice light but sharp. “Even with performances like tonight’s? I mean—no offense, Suna, but you’re kind of a slow-starter. Even since high school. Not exactly the kind of guy a pro team’s lining up for.”

There was an awkward pause. Even the coach shifted uncomfortably.

Then, the audacity of this man to continue—

"I mean—look. When you compare the current MVP of the Collegiate League, Sakusa, to you... it's a no-brainer who the V.League is going to choose, right? Especially for Division I."

No one spoke. He smirked and continued.

"And... even when you look at Tsukishima, who has already received an offer from the Division II Sendai Frogs—there's not a doubt in my mind that he would be a great fit for Division I. Maybe replace you—"

Suna coughed. Something fierce lingered in the shadows of his green eyes, but it was gone after a blink.

Then, in precise Suna fashion, he just muttered, “Maybe they’ll change their minds.” Sharp. Firm. Steady.

But you knew Suna. You knew Suna well. And no matter how composed and nonchalant he appeared on TV, he was not fine.

When you found him later that night, he didn’t speak.

He was at the back of the athletic building, sitting on a step in the dark, one knee up, chin on his arm. Still in his uniform.

“You were good today, Rinnie,” you said softly, offering him a blueberry-flavored chuppet. One that you hurriedly grabbed from your minifridge before rushing out of the dorm building to find him.

He gave a low laugh, accepting the chuppet and immediately munching. “I was shit.”

“No. You were trying.” You sat next to him. “They don’t know how hard you work.”

He didn’t look at you, but his voice came quieter this time. Soft. Uncertain. Not Suna-like. “What if they’re right? What if I’m not fast enough?”

You hesitated, then leaned your shoulder against his and dropped your head, resting perfectly on his shoulder blades.

"You're analytical, Rin. You take time to visualize the court and the players... before striking them down one-by-one. I think that's special."

He hummed quietly. He didn't believe you. So you continued—

"But who cares, you know? They can wait. You’re a slow burn."

You lifted a finger up to boop his nose—

"You’ll still light the whole damn League up eventually.”

That got a tiny huff of laughter from him.

“You believe that?”

You nodded, cheeks hot. “Yeah. Because it's you. And I believe in you.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned his head on yours and let the silence hold him.

And then his phone pinged with two tagged notifications on Instagram.

From Sakusa. A clipped video of the reporter grilling Suna. The caption—Suna's one of the very few who can analyze my movements and block my spikes. All in just a few minutes.

From Tsukishima. A black screen (very Tsukki-like). The caption—I actually put in a process for Division II personally. I've got other hobbies I want to pursue, and I'm not a volleyball freak. So keep my name out your mouths... and Suna's good.

You laugh at Tsukki's.

And Suna...

He looks lighter for the first time tonight.

[Now]

The crowd was deafening.

Cameras flashed. Confetti rained. Teammates tackled. And Suna stood at center court, jersey clinging to his skin, bright as a star. THE star.

Because the V.League Championship trophy was sitting right by his feet.

EJP Raijin — Champions.

The reporters swarmed him. Microphones angled toward his lips. Cameras aimed right at his face.

“Suna Rintarou—you just helped take EJP to a championship title. What does this moment mean to you?”

Suna’s eyes scanned the crowd. Calm. Confident. Older now. Sharper. Fiercer. The same to you, but more to the world.

Still your Rinnie.

“It means everything.” Simple because that was the truth.

“You’ve grown a lot,” another added. “What do you think changed? Back in college, there were questions about your speed, your drive—”

He smiled then. Slow. Dangerous. Lethal. Like he was waiting for this comment.

“Yeah,” he said into the mic. “I remember.”

The press paused.

“There was a reporter,” Suna continued, voice steady. “Said no pro team would want me because I was a slow-starter.”

Silence.

You stood up from the VIP seating area decked in EJP gold, just watching him—same way you always had. Unwavering. (With a tote bag filled with multi-flavored chuppets and some salmon onigiri, of course).

Suna turned his head toward you in the stands, gaze locking with yours for half a second.

“But I had someone who waited.”

The reporters blinked. “Waited?”

He tilted his head. “Believed in me. Even when I didn’t. That’s the difference.”

Flashbulbs exploded.

“So,” one stunned reporter asked, “do you have anything you’d say now to that college-era criticism?”

Suna raised a brow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Another beat of silence.

“…Thanks?”

He smirked straight at the camera. The jumbotrons captured his face (fangirls squealed).

“For being wrong. Because his bald-ass proved me right.”

After all the interviews, when he finally got a moment for himself, he found you in the back hallway, out of the spotlight. You were already teary-eyed, hands stuffed in your EJP hoodie pockets.

You knew. He knew. Nothing had to be said.

But still, he leaned against the wall next to you and nudged your shoulder.

“You were right,” he murmured, a soft voice reserved just for you. “I lit it up, huh? Burned the League?"

You smiled. “Told you.”

And then—

He pulled you into a hug, arms tight around you, breath warm by your ear.

After a beat of drowning in each other, still embraced in a tight hug—

"Did you bring my chuppets?"

You giggled, reaching up to card a hand through his damp hair.

"Of course I did."

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.

[potatoplace]

SORRY i sent in the request with 💜❤️‍🔥💘 but i meant to add angst (so like a mix of smut and angst) and also 💜 x reader

I'm Good Here

Rhysand x Reader

Warnings: forced bond acceptance, smut, mild angst cause of that (not dub-con, it's mostly sorted before then lol)

Notes: lol you're ALL GOOD don't worry about it 😂 I added a lil fluff towards then end cause I wanna see these two HAPPY, even if it's still a brand new revelation lol. I hope you like it!!

💜 Rhys ❤️‍🔥 smut 💘 mates

18+ only pls

🤍💜❤️‍🔥💜🤍

Dread filled you as a golden tether snapped in your chest, forever binding you to the male in front of you.

Violet eyes went wide for a split second before narrowing, all of his attention now focused solely on you.

This couldn't be happening, you weren't- you weren't even meant to be here. If not for your sister falling ill, you never would have been forced to feed the High Lord sitting on his throne in front of you, you never would have been tied to him for all eternity.

A strong, tanned hand grabbed hold of your wrist, and in an instant you were winnowed out of the throne room of the Hewn City, appearing in a lavishly decorated bedroom.

Already, the heat of the bond was burning within you, even though you had unwittingly accepted it.

Judging from the fire in violet eyes, the same effect was happening to your High Lord.

"Now, now, none of that 'High Lord' business," he purred as he held your hands softly in his. "As my mate, you can call me Rhys. Or whatever you'd prefer, I don't care much so long as you want me."

Want him?

"Yes, my sweet little mate. Y/N, correct?" You nodded slowly, your mind trying to... Reconcile the High Lord you knew to the male in front of you. "Well, Y/N, since we were... unfortunate enough to have the bond accepted with courting," Rhys said, his voice strained. "I'm afraid we don't have much choice in consummating it, but- if you'd wish to leave after, I... All I ask is that you let me offer you protection and provide for you."

You blinked at him, trying to process his words but failing miserably. There was something in them that set your heart at ease, enough to allow you to finally give in to the heat that was now burning through every inch of you.

Your mouth met his firmly, your feet on their tiptoes to reach him. That was all Rhys needed to hoist you into his arms, your legs locking around his hips as he walked the two of you to the bed, gently laying you down and following swiftly after. His lips reconnected, the taste of them sweet from the fruit you'd given him only minutes before, a reminder of the bond pulsing through you.

A tug on the golden thread from him had you gasping, your eyes flying open to meet his, a wicked look dancing in them.

A moment later a tickling sensation breezed across your skin, your eyes looking down to see that your clothes were no more, instead just the slightest hint of dust covering you.

"I'll take my time with you later, but right now, I need to fuck my sweet little mate," Rhys said lowly in your ear, one of his hands already lowered between you.

Just the brush of his cock against your folds had a breathy moan leaving your lips, the noise repeated when he bumped against your clit teasingly.

"Mate," you groaned, letting one of your feet bump his leg.

He let out a chuckle before pressing in slowly, for which you were grateful. Even the overwhelming arousal of the bond wasnt enough to fully prepare you for the stretch, the tiniest bit of pain flaring before it was extinguished by exquisite pleasure.

You both sighed once he was fully seated within you, relishing in the feeling of being so full, and filled by your mate no less.

Your heart sung at the thought, the feeling matched from the other end of the bond.

Moving now, darling, Rhys whispered into your mind, the warning barely preparing you for the snap of his hips, moving out of you only as much as he needed to before burying himself in you once more.

He set a slow, firm pace, increasing as your walls began to flutter.

You could barely breathe when his thumb circled your clit quickly, sending you toppling over the edge after a hard thrust from your mate, a loud moan tumbling from your lips.

Rhys followed you a moment later, his hips twitching as he kissed you, groaning into your mouth when your walls squeezed him before he pulled out.

He stayed over you, his eyes clearer now that the bond had been sated for the moment. "I meant what I said, you know," he said quietly before rolling off of you to your right side, his muscular arms wrapping around you.

"About...?" you trailed off, before it came back to you. "Oh- about me being able to... to leave?" Rhys nodded, a sad look in his eyes. "I... I think... I'm good here, for now."

Stars sparked up in those pretty, violet eyes, a small grin making its way onto his face. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. I'm good here, too."

🤍💜❤️‍🔥💜🤍

[midnite-c6]

friends with benefits!patrick zweig x bestfriend!reader || 18+ warnings: smut, p in v, innocent!reader, cunnilingus, unestablished friends with benefits, fem!reader, slight dubcon outside sex, fucking on a backless bench, degradation

a/n: i wrote this during my free time :) what's not to love about canonically big-dicked men??? this fic is giving casual by chappell roan

⁠*⁠.⁠✧ "we're just-- really good friends." a phrase patrick zweig, a man you think is the greatest tennis player in the universe, would never get tired saying to every new person you two meet, or to every date he's been in where he has to casually bring you up. that he has proven to himself that fucking you is a really good way to strengthen a friendship.

he's already potrayed as being overly close to his friends, hell, art donaldson is a really good example. being his best friend and tennis doubles partner. you can never know if he ever is actually in love with who he dates or who he fucks.

but there you are, his other bestfriend, though you'd like to think art's the "other" one, it's only fair since you've known patrick the longest. knowing him ever since you two were toddlers, barely able to walk. you weren't crazily rich- you had more than enough, unlike the zweig family, with a house acting as a castle, their own huge court in their backyard (just for his love for tennis), a swimming pool, and whatever rich people could buy at that time. you'd sometimes pray how you're happy your parents met his parents, or else he'll probably just ignore you like any other below-higher-class citizen.

but he wasn't like that. he didn't like showing off. he treated his wealth like a bonus, he wasn't your average spoiled kid who'd be social-climbing to the top with other tennis friends, no,

he spends his time with you.

_つ⁠｡⁠☆∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

you and patrick would always hang out inside his backyard, where he would teach you how to play tennis, how to predict where the ball would land, and the basics of knowing how to hold a racket correctly,

"i don't know how to play it... it seems really hard." you say as you hold the racket with both your hands, "you just have to hit a ball with a racket, dummy.." he sighed. "then... can you teach me?" he sighs again! "you'll just be a pain in the ass!"

"i'm willing to learn." you say, hoping it'd be a convincing line to make him teach you.

with him doing the extra work to go behind you as he holds your arm and moves it to the correct position. because of him you were actually pretty good- not better than him, but good nonetheless. he shows his "love" by inviting you to play tennis, first to win two games. him winning the first round and continue to be his usual confidently-annoying self, then he'd intentionally lose the second round, then the third, just so that your wins would feel much better when you'd laugh at him just a bit louder because he "jinxed" himself.

it started when he comes back home during the summer from his boarding school. when the two of you were sixteen, both of you sitting on-top of your small twin bed around midnight.

he'd tell you all the things he'd learn while he was in boarding school, "this one girl really enjoyed it when i shoved my tongue down her throat." he'd boast, shamelessly even, "really? i feel like kissing with tongue is prolly reaaally icky and messy." you share. "pfft. have you tried it?" "no? to be fair-- i haven't made out with anyone yet." you shrugged, where he would lean just a little closer to your face, eyes half-lidded to ask, "you willing to learn?" his hot breath already fanning over you lips.

who are you to decline a free lesson? "close your eyes, and feel it, okay?" his hand was effectively gripping your chin so it won't move much, he starts slow; pressing a tentative, testing kiss against your own. then lengthens it, you'd only squirm by being this close to your supposed, "best friend". he presses his lower thumb on your bottom lip as he slides his tongue past your lips. "quit whinin'..." he complains at your helpless squirms against his tongue. a hand moves up to the back of your head, his fingers gently wrapping around the roots of your hair. he pulls your head back slightly, tilting it to the side to further deepen it.

the two of you would pull away, both out of breath, connected by the infamous string of saliva. he'd try and taste it whilst looking at you right in the eye. the sound of him slurping up the string of saliva during the dead of night was dizzying. you'd almost faint. it felt wrong. to kiss him like that. but you never questioned what you were after that, he didn't mention you'd be his girlfriend anyway. "you did good. that means i'm a good teacher, right?" you can only nod, you barely heard him over the sound of your heart beating uncontrollably fast. . .

～⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆.

now he teaches you a plethora of things about sex! the next thing he knows alot about besides tennis.

you wonder, as the two of you sit in silence on a nearby backless-bench of his daddy's private court whilst staring at the sky,

"can't believe i'm going to college." he could only scoff in response. "college is stupid." you scoff back, "college is necessary." "it's still stupid." ugh. "not going to college is stupid." you tut.

"are you saying i'm stupid?" the words leaving both your mouths like they were itching for a fight. "i dunno? am i saying that?" a mocky tone that's just enough to set him off.

you've made out a bunch of times ever since the two of you found the free will to kiss without any commitment, and this was one of those times. he shoves, slams, his mouth against yours, forcefully making his tongue inside your mouth, it had no love, no care, just an average make-out session. though this time he'd move past your lips and to your neck instead. "patrick." you almost whine his name.. he bites on the clean bundle of skin on your neck, hard, as a condescending response, "fuck- patrick, stop, we aren't supposed to-"

"who says we aren't supposed to?" he gives you that signature grin he had, with his teeth showing, before he goes on his knees against the rough ground, now kissing your thighs. "you're still learning, you ain't gonna survive a college being a fucking virgin." you gasp, because of his lips, and his words, "i'm being serious, i'd be a bad friend not to educate you." looking up at you with those bright blue eyes, yet seemed dark by the way it's filled with so much lust.

his kisses would trail up to your stomach, then your chest, shamelessly kissing you through the fabric of your sports bra, it shouldn't feel good, but it did, he was the one doing it, so of course it did. he kisses your chest whilst pulling your shorts down and your panties with it. he looks down at the sight, chuckling to himself. "of course you're wet." the sun hitting your skin just right that he could see that pretty... blushing cunt. can't he be normal, for once? "shut the fuck up, damn." "if it makes you feel better, then i won't." sending a condescending laugh on your way. diving in to give your folds a kitten lick, you moan in surprise, you could feel him chuckle against your pussy.

he eats you out like he's been waiting for this meal ever since he's been alive. he eats you out like he's making out with it, just like he made out with you for the first time-- hungry, greedy. right now he's doing everything he can to make you cum, on the wooden bench, just because of his tongue.

his lips would move to your hole, shoving his tongue inside it to make you choke, just as he did when he shoves it inside your throat.

and for the first time in your life, you climax, by your first friend, by your best friend, and it felt so fucking good you could cry. he doesn't give a smartass comment, he lets you take in the moment, standing up to remove his own shorts, as he carries you against his body, holding you with both his arms as you wrap your arms around his neck for support. "ah .. i need you, right now .." he whines, before a sudden thrust! "to take my dick." "pat' fuck!" not sweet or caring, just straight on to it. dick first. deep inside you. his hands move to your hips. "shit-, tight. just what i- i thought." he prettily whines against your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. "m'dizzy- don't m-move!." "but- i'll die." he always gets his way anyway, manhandling your hips to ram it against his dick.

he moves, atleast he tries to, he's drowning of the pleasure of your tight pussy. of course you'd be crying, moaning his name out so boldly "yes, fuck, moan my name, don't care if anyone decides to visit the court right now, yeah?" you'd basically forgotten the two of you are outside. "fuuuuck, you're the first person i ever imagined wanting to have sex with." he confessed, now rutting sloppily against you, forgetting to form a good pace, he just wants to bury his dick inside you, just like the two teenagers you are. moaning and whimpering into each others ears, not caring about who walks in on what. "hope someone sees i'm friends with a fucking slut." let's just say you both were covered in cum when the two of you decided to be finished!

｡⁠◕～⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆

in the end, he introduces you two as good friends. and you agree, no doubt.

"yeah, we've been friends since we were little." close ones. and he's glad that you accept that, but he'd give all his money to say to the world that you're the best cunt he's ever had and the only cunt he's only ever loved.

⁠ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆🎾

gbf final boss 💔 to anyone who sees this pls sebd me challengers reqs, also patrick has such a big heart BELIEVE ME

[chimielie]

yeah, you might want me to drop dead (but i don't even care)

summary: Atsumu x F!Reader. atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: he thinks you're hot when you're angry. you would categorize your relationship with atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

word count: 2k

cw: miya atsumu's degradation kink (it's still sfw he's just not subtle), suggestive at the end

a/n: another resurrected fic from the drafts. walk him like a dog, bitch, walk him like a dog

Miya Atsumu was a player known for his thirst for blood. Like his brother, who termed the all-consuming need to dominate their opponent hunger, he relished in complete fucking annihilation. He was hardly soft off the court, too: few of his peers could withstand his cutting humor, his teammates couldn’t understand how he hadn’t scared off his fan club, and he had crushed a few hearts beneath his heel in his time.

He’d met his match in the natural enemy of heartbreakers: his university’s resident maneater.

“Hey!” Atsumu calls your name, lengthening his stride to catch up to you. You grimace—he can barely see your side profile now, but oh, you’re slowing down so he can catch up. Unusually considerate.

Oh, no, there’s just a clog in the artery of the crowded hallway, halting your escape.

“Hi,” he sing-songs, stretching the word out several extra syllables. 

“Good morning, Atsumu,” you say tightly, drawing up your shoulders so your arm won’t brush his bicep in the limited space. “I was hoping you’d died, since you weren’t in lecture this morning. Better yet, maybe someone buried you alive last night and you hadn’t dug your way out yet.”

“You went with the option that doesn’t kill me! You care,” he says happily, and takes a moment to bask in it. “I was actually at a volleyball game, you should come to one sometime, I’m pretty good at it—”

“I’d rather walk in traffic, ‘Tsumu,” you shoot him a wide smile that makes his knees feel weak and wobbly and shove your way straight through the crowd of people, leaving only an uncaring ‘Scuse me! in your wake. 

A lot of people would categorize your relationship with Atsumu as complicated. Atsumu is not one of those people.

Atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: many moons ago, you and he had been in a few of the same classes and shared some mutual friends—mere acquaintances. He hadn’t known you very well. In fact, he’d thought you were cute, which he now knows you aren’t. A few minor catastrophes he wasn’t privy to later, you had come to verbal blows with some loser in the middle of the quad. You’d later found it rather embarrassing. Watching you eviscerate him, though, Atsumu had experienced a fear like never before. If he was bloodthirsty, you bathed in ichor. 

He would always remember the look on your face as you dealt the final blow and turned away, walking with a straight back right toward him.

Atsumu, who had never seen anything quite like the look of controlled rage on your face as you took that man apart. Who wasn’t sure why the sound of you doing your damnedest to instigate a fight made him shiver despite being all too warm inside. Who was looking up at you from his seat like a puppy, desperate to see you don your war paint again.

You walked past him, because of course you did. You weren’t pulled by the same magnetic force he was, focused on him like he was suddenly fixated on you. You were barely acquainted with him and obviously going to your friends for moral support and ice cream and whatever it was people did after one of them basically tarred and feathered someone in the town square. He was merely a bystander along the path you strode.

Of course, the very action of totally ignoring his existence cinched it: he was hooked.

You would categorize your relationship with Atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

You’d tried to ignore him. He was persistent, though, and he just pushed and pushed and pushed until he crossed the line. It was exhausting.

Except that you kind of loved fighting with him.

You couldn’t help the adrenaline rush it gave you, the way he seemed to light a fire inside you no one else could and keep it burning hot. It was almost like a release to debate him, the way some people boxed or listened to heavy metal to destress. The feeling of victory never failed to put a sparkle in your eye and a cocky smirk on your lips; sometimes, you felt like he was stepping back and letting you win.

This continued in perfectly pleasant vicious and sometimes bloody antagonism for the course of forever until a few months ago, when Atsumu had begun the new and inimitable torture of flirting with you. It was horrible and it was weird and you had no idea what kind of mind game he was playing, but you certainly intended to find out. 

Atsumu, for his part, had recently realized that he likes it when you smile so much more than when you scowl. He likes it when you flutter your lashes instead of staring flatly into his soul, hoping to yank it out and set it aflame. He likes it when you say nice things to him, which has only happened once, but was very nearly a second sexual awakening and thus monumental.

He does not like it when other men flirt with you.

“Your pencil is broken,” Osamu notes, glancing down at his brother’s clenched fist. “You’ll get splinters.”

“What? Oh,” says Atsumu distractedly. “Yeah, I’ll do it later.”

Your laugh rings across the library, the warm glow of a fireplace instead of the burning fires of hell you share with Atsumu. His grip slackens, and his twin takes the opportunity to prise the pulverized writing utensil out of his hand. This kindness goes unnoticed as the guy, that’s how Atsumu’s thinking the word in his mind, low and mocking, guy, says something to you that makes him instinctively kick Osamu in the shin.

“Ow! Douchebag!”

“Sorry, reflex,” Atsumu apologizes.

“Do you want to go with me?” Asks the dickhead you’re talking to.

“To ice cream? Sure,” you reply, and you don’t even sound like you’re being sarcastic. What the fuck? There’s a long pause while the jagoff scuffs his shoe against the floor, a red flush coming over his face while you stare slightly past him with your trademark stare. But your lips are slightly turned up.

The expression haunts Atsumu on his walk back. Your smile was so pretty, sweet and soft. You never smile at him except mockingly. 

“At the risk of sounding like I care,” Suna says. “Are you okay?” 

“If I killed someone, would you help me get rid of the body?” Atsumu says, staring straight ahead.

“No,” Osamu says, “he’s finding out about human emotions and he’s coping very badly.”

Atsumu is ignoring you. As quickly as his interest (his desire to piss you off) had flared up, it had disappeared seemingly overnight, which was fine for you. It was great! You had booted the most annoying man in the world out of your life and replaced him with a perfectly nice guy. Your life was coming up roses.

Except it was driving you insane. You had your phone out, held an inch below your desk, leaving the perfectly nice guy (what was his name? You hadn’t saved it in your contacts and you weren’t sure why) on read as you stared across the room at the faux-blond.

He was chattering to another boy who looked bemused and patient; probably another volleyball player. You were half-convinced this was part two of his ploy to get under your skin; he was playing the unpredictable game.

As you try to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes, you see him glance back at you for a second, just a second, and that’s it. You slam your palms down on the desk, shooting up from your seat, trying not to make eye contact when a few other students turn and look at you because of the noise. He still won’t look directly at you as you make your way to his seat.

“I just remembered I have to leave,” says Atsumu’s friend—Aran, not that you care what his friends are called—picking up his bag. “I have to go be anywhere else right now.”

“What,” Atsumu whines as he books it away from the two of you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” you snap, folding your arms in front of your chest. You’re not sure why you’re so angry, just at the look of his melting chocolate eyes and hunched shoulders and pouty lips. Ugh. He’s the worst. “You’re avoiding me. Why.” The question sounds more like a sentence or maybe a threat.

“I’m not doing that,” he defends weakly. “Maybe I just got tired of looking at your face.”

“My face is fucking precious, okay,” you argue, “you should want to look at it all the time. Idiot. What’s wrong with you?”

“I do—I mean, what? What’s wrong with you?” He returns, and there’s the familiar snap and sting that you like so much. “You don’t even like it when I talk to you—”

“I don’t!”

“So why are you mad now that I’m not?”

“Because—” You struggle for reasoning. You can’t find it. Something strange and huge is crawling its way up your throat.

“Because, uh, um,” he mocks you, and you almost sock him. “Make up your mind! I was trying to be nice to you, even though it’s fucking boring!”

“I don’t want you to be nice to me!” You shout, and then curl over, your face nearly in his lap as almost everyone else in the room turns to look at you. One of the library workers shushes you loudly. “It’s—you’re right, it is boring. Everything else is fucking boring. I like it when you bother me, ‘Tsumu, okay?”

“Okay,” Atsumu says, eyes widening, leaning away from you as you seem nearly on the verge of manic combustion in front of you. “Then—I’ll keep doing it?”

“Will you?” You sit up straight and look him squarely in the eye. He gulps, unsure what he’s being asked. Something is fluttering in his stomach, but he’s hesitant to trust it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and it feels like so much more than a confession.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say, in the same deceptively soft tone. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you—” You grab his face before he can finish talking and smash your lips onto his, first hard and like you’re trying to bully your way into his mouth, then a little sweeter, a little more tender. “First?”

“I win,” you say smugly as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Please leave,” says the librarian. 

You live alone, which is amazing, because if Atsumu were to see his brother or teammates right now he might commit felony battery. In your apartment, which is full of trinkets Atsumu wants to examine but can’t because he’s very busy staring at you, you shove him onto the couch and sit on him. Sort of like you’re wrestling, but not at all.

“If we’re goin’ out,” he says, “we are going out, right?”

“Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you say, and your smile is as bright as the stars. He clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack.

“Good. Uh, if we’re goin’ out, does that mean you have to start bein’ nice to me?” 

“I’ll be nicer to you,” you promise.

“Oh.” His tone is almost disappointed. 

“Or,” you lean down, and he almost chokes on his own inhale. “I can date you and be mean to you at the same time,” you say into his reddening ear, your breath hot and your smiling lips barely, just barely brushing his skin. Atsumu makes a squeaking noise that can barely be understood. “What was that?”

“Yes, please,” he says fervently.

You bite his earlobe teasingly, and he finds that really nice, actually. The nicest.

[inexplicifics]

Since you're on an answering kick, I've been wondering what the early days of Zofia and Auckes' relationship (both as friends and lovers) was like. How did they go from total strangers to allies to training and meal partners to Zofia's "I'm horny, he seems the best option" and Auckes' startled "gods PLEASE yes" to a longer term attachment? I realize that could be an entire long fic on its own, if you ever truly fleshed it out. Like. What was it about each other that drew them together?

You know, I think I'm going to pull Sergeant Hanif in here, not in person but as someone Auckes remembers. Most Vipers, I suspect, haven't had a lot of amiable interactions with humans, but Auckes has met someone who was willing to talk to him and even expressed concern over his injuries, and that someone was military, so there are some similarities with Zofia.

I think they start as sparring partners; a lot of Witchers are going to be wary of fighting a human, because of the risk of hurting her, but Auckes will take the chance, and then it turns out she's good and also slowing himself down to human speed is a useful drill. And so they end up chatting, and then Zofia ends up at the Viper table, and she's blunt and has a filthy sense of humor and isn't fazed by Viper ruthlessness.

In short, she's marvelous and Auckes doesn't quite know what this strange warmth in his chest every time she chooses to sit next to him at supper is, but he's definitely figured out that she's fucking beautiful with a sword in her hand and he would very much like to get to know her better in a carnal sense. However, Witchers aren't exactly taught courting, especially not Vipers, and she's not a prostitute, which means he hasn't got a script for approaching her.

So when she approaches him, well, "Gods please yes" is about as coherent as he's gonna be.

On Zofia's side, Auckes respects her skills and doesn't assume she's going to spread her legs for him just because she's female, and the Vipers are the sort of crude she understands, and it turns out they can swap stories pretty easily, and he's smart and doesn't assume she isn't.

You know, it occurs to me that he probably teaches her to read. He's very literate, as all Witchers are, but she's a peasant mercenary; she probably can't read a damn thing when she first comes to Kaer Morhen. And he doesn't think of teaching her as being something remarkable; he's pleased that she's willing to spend time with him and learn a bit about bookbinding, which is a pleasant hobby for long winters. And why shouldn't she learn to read? It's a useful skill! It will make it easier for her to study the bestiaries, which is important if she's really going to go out on patrol with Witchers!

So Zofia thinks of Auckes as not only safe but kind, in a strange awkward rough-edged way. Also handsome enough, if you like 'em brawny and scarred, which she does. And things progress from there.

[siriuslysmutty]

(Found this in my drafts but don't remember writing this?)

Simon who secretly loves subbing. It's more natural for him. He's a brat you can't change my mind. Mouthing off but everyone's either matching his energy or too intimidated.

Cut to you, the cutest medic he's ever seen. You dote, speak clearly and announce exactly what your doing as your doing it. Even during a gunfight. It's *practical*. A quick warning he's learned to appreciate. A steady hand. A chuckle at his bad jokes.

He decides he'll do what's always expected for the little medic who only speaks when spoken too, only does exactly what is required.

Until you refuse to date an officer. Absolutely refuse. In the sweetest rejection...

He courts you for months. Openly. In front of his Captain. No one cares because no one *really* wants to get in The Ghost's way.

So when you *do* cave and he takes you back to his place you get wined and dined with a delicious fucking steak and buttery mashed potatoes and it's so good (and you're nervously a bottle in) that your moaning around the bites and it's all he can do not to cum.

By ten he's managed to go through the motions of what he's done with his past lays. It's mechanical. But he likes you and you're both tipsy and horny.

The door shuts and his world spins because the medic is apparent a pleasure dom...

It's over for him as you order him about from beneath him. Whining up at him to fuck you slow and deep. And when he does he's lost to it. Brain turned off. Brat turned on. He expects punishment, it's always what he's got. But you don't punish him, you promise him rewards.

"Fuck me slow and hard until I cum and I'll swallow your big cock as long as you want baby," cooing at him in condescending way and-

He does. Eagerly.

You let him brat out still. Even when he's breaking your rules. And when he's spent and panting you open you arms and coax him to lie down and kiss his head and tell him what a good job he did making you cum and-

he's a goner.

Where does he sign for more.