#*through gritted teeth* WE STAY WINNING! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misserabella · 1 year ago

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loosen up

abby anderson x fem! reader

summary; abby was pent up, and angry, and she was taking it out on your team. and you were not gonna have it. you’ll have to loosen her up.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, fighting, cursing, blood, abby being a bitch, teasing, tension, chocking (kinda??), hair pulling, punching, making out, begging, cheating (abby on owen), fingering (a! receiving), tit and nipple play, oral sex (a! receiving), dirty talking…

your blood was boiling. you were winning the game, it was no big deal. but fuck. did she really have to act like that? she was just like a fucking child.

you saw as abby barely defended the other team player as she shot to the hoop, listless, annoyed. you felt your skin crawl in goosebumps when she took the bounce and with a scowl tossed it to one of your teammates hard enough for it to end up getting out of the court.

“what the fuck anderson?!” you yelled at her, scowling. why was she acting like such a bitch. sure. you can be mad. but this is a match. get over it and play.

she ignored you, letting the player she was supposed to defend score.

you couldn’t handle it anymore getting closer to her and pushing at her chest, making her stumble backwards.

she had come today already with a scowl on her face, and after she had gotten mad about something your team had done wrong at the start of the match, she had started taking it out all on your team and sabotaging you. you didn’t care that she was the captain, if there was something everyone knew is that you wouldn’t stay quiet if something was bothering you. and she was infuriating you. “if you’re gonna play like this don’t fucking play!! you’re fucking it up for us!” she pushed you back.

“at least they need me to play. i’m not some bench warmer like you!” she said, and you gritted your teeth, your ego being hurt. “aw, what’s wrong? did i hit a weak spot?” she falsely cooed, and before you knew it you were punching her, making her lip burst and blood tint her skin.

you could hear the stairs filled with people roar, screaming when abby jumped on you, a hand tugging on your hair as her other hand closed into a fist, coming down onto your cheek and making you hiss.

before things could escalate, your coach was running into the court along with the referee to stop the two of you.

“anderson!” he screamed, trapping her arms to push her off of you. she fought against him and the referee who went to help him since abby was quite strong.

you spat blood, your teammates coming up to check on you.

“you two. out.” your coach ordered, forcing the two of you out of the court and into the changing rooms. “anderson. i don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you better be changing your attitude or i swear to got you won’t be making it to the next game. and you.” he pointed at you. “starting a fight in the middle of a fucking match?” he inquired. “are we in kindergarten?” you huffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t want you coming out of here until you fix whatever you two have going on. i don’t want bullshit on my court.” he said, closing the door to the changing rooms behind him to go back to his game.

the air inside of the room was so dense in tension it could be cut with a knife.

“this is all your fucking fault.” you spat, adrenaline cursing through your veins. sweat was pearling your skin.

“my fault?” she scoffed and you turned to face her. “you’re the one who fucking punched me.”

“yeah well you needed it.” you muttered. “just as much as you need a good fuck. bad thing your little boyfriend doesn’t know how to use his dick, huh?” next thing you knew you were against the wall, a hand tightly around your neck.

“you need to keep your mouth shut.” she growled, and you smirked. you were inches apart, your lips brushing, her breath hitting your face.

“aw… have i hit a weak spot?” you mocked her, throwing back her words at her. “i’m sure owen can’t hit your g spot though. how many times has he make you cum, huh? i’m sure not even once, since you’re acting like such a bitc-” she punched you again, making you shut up and your mouth fill up with blood all over again. you smirked.

you looked into her blue eyes, at her reddening cheeks. “well aren’t you cute, hm? blushing ‘cause i’m on the right?”

“fucking shut up.” she spat, and you leaned closer, pushing against the tightening grip on your neck.

“why don’t you make me, huh?” you whispered against her lips, and your smirk only grew when your saw her angry eyes drift down at your lips.

“you wish.” she muttered and your tongue wetted your lips, watching as she stared.

“by the way you’re looking at me i’m not sure i’m the one wishing for it, anderson.”

“you’re so annoying.” she growled, and you hummed when she quickly and harshly pushed them against your, so hard your head met the wall behind you in a thud. it was a mess. all tongue and teeth. your hands pulled at her blonde braid as her strong body caged you against the cold tile wall. she moaned when you bit down on her broken lip, tasting her blood as she could taste yours on your tongue.

“that’s it abby, take it all out on me, hm?” you muttered, and she cursed when your lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, sucking and biting. “this is what you needed, isn’t it?” you inquired as your hands dived in her shirt, hands cupping her tits over her sports bra and tweaking her nipples. “needed to get the attitude fucked out of you?” she moaned, and you smiled. “but we’re gonna get you all fixed for coach, isn’t that right?” she nodded, biting down on her lip as she felt one of your hands trail down her stomach, your fingertips caressing her abs. “speak up for me cap, why so quiet all of a sudden?” you teased her and she gritted her teeth.

“shut -“ she tried and say, but before she could finish her sentence she was letting out a loud moan as your hand pushed inside her pants and panties, fingers diving in between her slick folds.

“jesus christ. you’re soaked.” you breathed out, your fingertips easily sliding against her clit, making her thighs shake. “is it always like this, hm? can owen make your pussy drool like this?” she shook her head.

“no.” she shook her head in a whimper, one that made your own pussy throb. “fuck. he never… he doesn’t know how to touch me.”

you hummed. “you poor thing. so eager to be fucked and yet can’t get what you need, huh?” you mocked her, and you saw her breath hitch. “do you want it? do you want me to make you cum, abby?” she nodded. “nuh-huh. use your words. such a loud fucking mouth and now you’re getting shy on me? speak.”

“yes. please, make me cum.” she muttered, and you smirked.

“atta girl.” she moaned when you pushed your middle finger inside. “jesus christ. he doesn’t fucking deserve you. pussy so tight…” you groaned, starting to thrust in and out. “she’s so eager. she’s sucking me right in.” she moaned, hiding her flushing face on your neck, although you didn’t let her, tugging on her braid to make her face you. “don’t fucking hide from me. wanna see you fall apart.” her breath hitched, her thighs opening for you to reach deeper into her. you pulled from her so she could be the one now caged against the wall, giving you strength to dive two of your fingers inside her harder. “that’s it. open up for me.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” she cried out as you curled them against her g spot, eyes squeezed shut, cunt molding around your fingers.

“who would’ve thought… abby anderson, such a tough girl falling apart so easily on my fingers…” you smirked. “you like it baby? like how i’m fucking you behind your little boyfriends back? what would he say, hm? what would he think if he saw you like this, huh?” your thumb met her throbbing clit. “gonna be good for me once i make you cum? gonna stop being such a fucking bitch?” she nodded. “i bet you are. gonna make you cum so good you’d do anything for me.” you smirked. “look at you. you sweet girl, you just needed your pussy stretched out, hm? get loose, yeah? i bet you taste so fucking sweet, you’re dripping on my fingers.” she moaned, your words were so fucking lewd they were making her head spin. but she loved it. she couldn’t be more turned on. she’d never been this needy, this weak. “tell me, does he eat your pussy, hm?” she didn’t answer, yet her cheeks turned pink and you chuckled. “of course he doesn’t. want me to show you what you deserve? want me to fuck you with my tongue, abby?” she nodded, whining.

“yes please, fuck. please need your tongue.” your smirk grew.

“whatever you say, cap.” you teased her, pulling down her pants and panties with your hands, hearing her moan when your fingers left her hole, feeling empty. “so needy… don’t worry baby.” you said as you kneeled in front of her, pushing one of her strong thighs on top of your shoulder. “i’m gonna fill you up real nice.”

abby could swear she lost all breath when she felt your tongue lick a long strip up her clit from her hole, lapping at her slick with a hum that made her moan so loud you had to pull back to hush her. “you need to stay quiet, baby. don’t want your little boyfriend to hear us, hm?” you inquired, suckling at her clit. the thought of owen just bursting into the changing rooms to find the two of you like this only turned her on more. she shook her head. “then be a good girl and stay quiet for me.”

you dived back in, your tongue sliding in between her folds as you closed your eyes, relishing on how fucking good she tasted. “you taste so good… that dick doesn’t know what he’s missing. could eat this pussy up for hours.” abby whimpered, one of her hands finding your hair to tug you closer. and as much as you wanted to tease her about it, you gave her what she wanted, burying your tongue inside her hole, your nose bumping against her clit.

“oh, fuck.” she cried out, head rolling backwards and bumping against the wall as you curled it, fucking it in and out of her, moaning at the taste of the white creamy pre cum that stained your lips, chin and tongue. you hummed, devouring her like a starved woman before moving on to her clit and plunging two of your fingers back inside of her. you harshly sucked on that little bundle on nerves, feeling her shake as you hit your g spot with every curve of your fingers. “i’m gonna cum.”

“so pent up…” you chuckled by how easily it had been to make her fall apart. “poor baby. go ahead, be a good girl and cum on my face.” you said before going back to her clit, curling your fingers faster and sucking harder. it didn’t take long before her moans got louder —to which she had to muffle herself with her free hand— and creamed all over your mouth. you moaned, lapping at everything she was giving you as you fucked her through it. “atta girl…” you praised, smirking at the shaking of her thighs. she was panting by the time she was done, slightly whimpering at your licks as you cleaned her up. she watched as you pulled your fingers out of her and pushed them inside your mouth, your eyes never leaving hers as you sucked them clean. she bit down on her lip, the hand on your hair slightly tightening. “it’s best we go out there.” you said as you got up from your aching knees. “we’ve got a match to win.” she nodded, getting dressed with flushing cheeks.

after that, abby was back to her normal self, playing to win. in fact, it was the best she had ever played in a long time, and your coach noticed. it was before you went to enter the court on a change that he stopped you.

“i don’t know what the hell you did… but well done.” he said, and you smiled, taking a look at abby, who looked away with a flushed expression.

you shrugged.

“she just needed to loosen up.”

a/n; i need her

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

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Choke-Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John Price NSFW

^Such a fucking good song

Based on a request:

OK, weird combo Price!jealous x Ghost!possessive x F!reader. Reader goes on a mission with Her mentor Ghost and her Captain. I just imagine them pulling reader one way to another to end up sandwiched between them for some angry dominant sex. Idk just a thought --- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, dub-con, angry!sex, dom!Ghost, dom!Price, sub!reader, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, degrading, threesome, anal!sex, jealous!Price, possessive!Ghost, spanking ---

A/N: in Badjhur we trust

It was supposed to be a short missions, simple and quick. No one knew it'd end up being running to the woods' safe house, having to stay longer than expected and make both of your commanding officers jealous or possessive of their little private. Tension grew when you asked Ghost to open a bottle, the lid too hard to twist and your tired state not being able to create much strength. Price wished you asked him instead, a real man, in his words. That whole day, you spent it between laps, getting taught how to clean your riffle properly, teaching you new techniques and then the occasional groping.

At some point, you went from occasional pulls towards one of their laps to having one man pull your waist to his side whilst the other pulled your arms towards him. "Fuckin' leave her to me Price," Ghost said through gritted teeth. "I'm not letting you have her sit on your lap, lieutenant." Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. You looked between them and as Price lifted your chin to look at him, Ghost cupped your face and made you turn to him. "My pretty girl," he lifted his balaclava and as he was about to kiss your forehead, Price pulled you to his side.

"Don't touch her," his arms wrapped around you. Ghost couldn't take it you were his and at base, he had made sure all soldiers knew that. Price kissed you, hands roaming on you and then you felt it, Ghost bitting onto your neck, marking you as his. "Whoever makes 'er come more, fucking wins 'er." Ghost took your jackey off, lifitng the shirt from your body and tossing it aside. "What a beauty," Ghost kisses your shoulders and neck. Price with one single move removes your bra and kisses the collar bone.

Clothes all off, your captain's head between your thighs, teasing your folds all while the lieutenant makes you open your mouth wide as you give him head. You let out a whimper when they abruptly stop and put you on all fours. "Let's see who gives her a better time," Price's hands caress your bare ass before he gives you a good slap. You mewl and he chuckles, "Oh, what a good girl," he continues to slap your ass and without warming, Ghost smacks his cock on your mouth. "Stick your tongue out for me, be a good slut," he commands. You do as told and he smirks. "Spit on it, baby," your spit covering his tip, tongue swirling around and giving him pleasure.

Your mouth slowly stretches thin as his fat cock gets inside it. His thrusts all in rage, wanting to win this bet, make you his slut by the end of it. Price needed you to be his, needed your pretty holes filled and leaking with his cum, leaving you to his mercy only. Thick fingers deep inside your cunt, pumping themselves into that tight pussy of yours. The sweet noises of you gagging and being choked by Ghost's fat cock, making you clench on Price's thick and veiny cock. You cry out. Your g spot getting pleased at every thrust. Ghost knew this, so he pulled out, "Let me take her first, to show you how good her face looks when I take her fully," he tried to reason but in truth he needs you to himself, to be the one fucking himself into you.

"Fine, but I'll be next," His heavy cock gets stroked by his calloused hands as he sits and watches from the chair near the sofa. Ghost rubs his tip rubbing your slit, you let out a soft whimper to which he grbas your chin and makes you look at him. "Good fucking sluts take what I give," he spits out. Your mouth spread open, his fungers fucking your throat, tears and gags all running free, he smirks, his dick hard and slowly being thrusted in you. Your tits bouncing at his hard thrusts, he slaps yopur face when you close your moth around his fingers, "fucking keep it open!" he commands.

Price couldn't take it, so he moves to your mouth, his cock taking the lieutenants fingers place. "We had a fucking deal, Price," Ghost growls, thrust become more rough. You try and plea but both men could not care for you at this time. Price chokes you with his hands, your neck would for sure get some bruising after this. His balls slapping against your face. Your eyes shut as the tears and war paint came offf your face. Ghost hoplding your hips in place, his cock abusing your tight cunt. Price holding your neck, enjoying how you choke and clench around his cock, Ghost encouraging this by groaning. "Fucking. Slut. Taking. It.All." He said with each thrust.

The bulge of Ghost's fat and lenghthy cock on your tummy, he presses it down, which makes you moan. The vibrations only feeding Price to win this contest. Your tits getting slapped, Ghost bends forward and nibbles on them. Price pulls out, lays down and forcefully makes Ghost pull out. Your juices leaking from the lieutenants cock. Price on his back and your back to his chest, legs spread apart as he aligns his cock to your ass. The tight walls stretching for his size, you cry out only to get your mouth filled by Price's fist. Ghost holding your legs up as his cock gets buried in your cunt.

Your body was beyond pleasure, beyond the ecstasy of it, it was like entering a realm of sex and pleasure. Both of your holes getting stuffed and as wanted, filled by their cum. You'd think they stopped there, but they didn't, especially not Ghost. His thick and rough fingers pinch and rub your clit, you squirm and before you could even close your legs, he slaps the sensitive tissue. "Oh...what a delight," he smiles and leans forward, kissing your neck only to get pushed away by Price who kept choking you.

"Mine," Ghost grunts and bites your shoulder, leaving his teeth marked on your skin. "My fucking slut," he bites your neck this time and as his cum leaks into your cunt, he bites harder. You cry out a moan and he aggressively slaps your face. "Take it, bitch!" He slaps you again.

Price pulls out, your ass filled and covered in his cum. Ghost lifts you up, your weak legs wrapped around his hips, his cock still buried deep in you. He pushes you onto him, guides your pussy to his cock with every thrust. His hands under your ass as he moans. Price lighting up a cigar, watches with a smirk. Your nails dig into Ghost's back, you leaned against him, cries of pleasure escape your precious lips. Once he pulls out, he feels your juices and his cum drip form hour abused hole.

His big arms wrap you in a tight embrace as he gives you a sweet and long kiss. Soon, as you sat on his lap, all cuddled and kissed, he turned to Price. "Look who she is with now," he smiles and looks down at you. Pouty, flustered mess in his arms, holding him like he was your source of life. "My cum still leaks from her," Price comments. "Not for long, I'll make sure to replace it with mine," he kisses you again.

--- A/N: Let's thank @gh0stsenpai007 for helping me write parts of this scene <3 ---

Tags: @amygaster004 @liyanahelena @archangel1206 @bubblegumbabycow @saoirse06 @montenegroisr @potatoknight @braindancecopy

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g1rld1ary · 1 day ago

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our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

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"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

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baelarys · 3 months ago

Text

𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫...𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 Pt2

Aemond targaryen X reader targaryen

Word recount: 2087

Warning: smut, Incest.

"Sharp Point?" you asked, frowning at what one of your ladies had just told you. Your fingers absentmindedly played with the wedding ring adorning your hand.

"That's what I heard, my lady," Celia responded, visibly nervous. Earlier this morning, you had seen Aemond leave the city in a fury. You had no idea where he was headed, and he hadn’t even bothered to speak to you when you tried to approach him.

Before you could ask more questions, the loud, sharp roar of Vhagar filled the air. Determined, you moved to the balcony and saw the fearsome creature descending onto Aegon’s Hill, where she usually rested.

You left your chambers, heading towards the council room. Although you had been forbidden from entering due to "conspiring and supporting the usurper," you knew that half of the council was absent, and you doubted anyone else would deal with the angry prince.

When you entered, the room was empty. The marble spheres in the center of the table, each of a different color, represented the role of the person occupying each seat. You approached to take one into your hands, the smooth, cold sphere cradled in your palm.

Suddenly, you heard the door swing open with force. "Out!" Aemond ordered in a threatening tone to the two guards who had followed him. The guards stopped abruptly and quickly exited the room.

Aemond dropped heavily into the chair at the head of the table, the king’s chair. His eyes quickly found you; it seemed he hadn’t realized you were in the room.

"What are you doing here?" His irritated tone echoed in the room, the smell of smoke and dragon invading your nostrils. You prayed he hadn’t done what you feared.

"I saw you leave the city in a rage today," you said, approaching the table again and returning the sphere to its previous place. Aemond’s eyes cautiously followed you. "What happened?" You knew the situation well, but you wanted him to tell you.

Aemond sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to control his anger. "She has three fucking dragons. That whore got them," he muttered through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the chair.

You carefully moved closer to him.

"Did you go to Sharp Point?" you asked, concerned. Aemond averted his gaze, not answering.

"Aemond," you said sternly, waiting for an explanation.

"Prince Regent," he corrected you, avoiding your question.

"we don't burn cities," you said firmly, stepping closer to him. What he had done was something horrible, an atrocity against innocent people who did not deserve such a fate.

"What does it matter what we do now?" he replied dismissively. You sighed, feeling like your hangover was killing you; arguing was the last thing you needed at that moment.

Aemond kept his gaze fixed on you, and you felt his warm hand taking yours, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. There was something in his gesture that revealed both his desperation and his need for comfort.

"We need to win," he said, drawing your attention. "Then I will be king, and you will be my queen." His grip on your hand tightened, conveying his determination.

"And if it doesn't happen? If Aegon recovers or Rhaenyra decides to attack?" You cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the tension under your touch. You understood his desire to possess the throne; he was the second son, heir to nothing, always in the shadow of his brother. Now that he had the opportunity to have it all, why wouldn’t he seize it? But you wondered if it would be worth the sacrifice.

Aemond closed his eyes for a moment, savoring your caress, then opened them to look at you with intensity. "That won’t happen," he said with a confidence that attempted to ease your concerns. He stood up and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You decided to stay in your chambers for the rest of the day, surrendering to the forced calm that Aemond had imposed. As your ladies prepared the bath, filling the tub with soothing essences, you wrapped yourself in a thin robe, offering little protection against the chill of the night air seeping through the partially open windows.

Suddenly, the doors to your chamber burst open. Aemond entered with a severe expression, his foul mood evident in every movement. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, tired of his irritable demeanor.

"Leave us," Aemond ordered in a firm voice, echoing through the room. Your ladies, who had barely finished preparing the bath, exchanged nervous glances before hurrying out, leaving a tense silence behind them.

You sighed tiredly, mentally preparing yourself for what seemed like another confrontation, but before you could ask what was going on, Aemond launched himself at you, trapping you in an intense, urgent kiss. The surprise left you momentarily paralyzed, and when you tried to push him away, his grip on your hips tightened, pressing your body against his with a firmness that left no room for resistance.

Aemond, with a quickness that revealed his impatience, slid the robe from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and exposing your completely naked body to him. His eyes roamed over your figure with an almost all-consuming intensity before his lips captured yours again in a deep, hungry kiss. His body leaned over yours, and you felt his hips press against yours, the tight bulge of his pants eliciting an immediate response from your body, a wetness spreading quickly between your thighs.

The room was filled with the sound of his labored breathing as his hands moved down your body, tracing the contour of your hips and then lower, as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of your skin. His lips traveled over your body and chest, leaving a trail of marks; hickeys and bites that burned on your skin, witnesses of his overflowing desire.

Aemond wasn't being careful. His movements were urgent, almost abrupt, driven by a need that seemed insatiable. He took you without reservation, without pretensions of softness, as if he feared that at any moment you could vanish in his hands. His caresses were possessive, claiming every part of you, as his mouth descended, marking his territory with every kiss, with every bite he left on your skin.

You felt the warmth of his fingers work their way between your lower lips, soaking in the moisture that had gathered from his touch. The sensation was overwhelming, causing a gasp to escape your lips before you could suppress it. “Aemond,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment, as he continued his work, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

His every move seemed designed to keep you on the edge, to push you to the limit of what you could endure without allowing yourself to fall completely. His eyes lifted to yours, and there was something more than pure desire in that look; there was an uncontrollable fire, a mixture of devotion and possession that left you breathless. You felt his gaze consume you, as if he wanted to make it clear that every part of you belonged to him.

Aemond brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing against yours with deliberate provocation, maintaining that intense visual connection that made you feel vulnerable and, at the same time, powerfully desired. "You feel it?" he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, laden with palpable need. "How I need you... How I want you for me and only for me."

His words enveloped you in searing heat, and before you could respond, you felt him release his member from his pants, his tip grazing your entrance with a precision that left you breathless. The initial contact was a preview, a promise of what was to come, and when Aemond finally sank into you in one fell swoop, the world seemed to stop. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt the length of him filling you completely, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you trembling.

The initial burning that spread across your sensitive area barely had time to dissipate before he began to move. He didn't give you time to adjust, to adapt to the intensity of his presence inside you. His thrusts were slow at first, almost tortuously controlled, as if he was enjoying every second that he had you completely at his mercy. But soon, the slowness gave way to a faster, more demanding pace.

Every time Aemond moved inside you, you felt your body respond instinctively, every nerve ignited by the intensity of his desire. His hands clung to your hips, his fingers marking your skin with a force that bordered on painful, but it was precisely that mix of power and possession that made the pleasure intensify, taking you to a point of no return.

"You like this, don't you?" He murmured against your ear, his voice low and heavy with raw desire. Each word was a dark whisper that echoed in your mind, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he dragged you closer and closer to the edge. The heat of his breath on your neck made you shiver, and his tone, so full of control and confidence, was a seduction in itself. You felt your body submit to his every movement, every thrust designed to take you to the edge of the abyss and keep you there, on that fine line between pleasure and total surrender. His voice enveloped you, a constant reminder of his dominance over you, of the way he had you completely under his control.

Your walls clenched around his member, trapping him with each thrust as he increased the pace, his body moving with relentless precision. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the room, a symphony of desire that only the two of you could hear, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge.

Aemond leaned over you, his hands firmly on your hips, guiding your every movement as his lips sought yours again, devouring them with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His breathing became more irregular, his pants mixing with yours, creating an atmosphere thick with need.

You felt your body tense, every fiber of your being on fire as you approached your climax. “Don't stop,” you whispered, the words barely coming out between the moans escaping your lips.

Aemond gritted his teeth, his jaw marked with the effort of restraining himself. But with each contraction of your walls around him, you felt him lose that control, how his own desire intensified as he felt your complete surrender.

“I'm not going to stop,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with a promise that made you shudder. His pace became erratic, deeper, each thrust designed to push you over the edge.

Finally, you felt pleasure building up inside you, an uncontrollable wave that swept you away mercilessly. Your walls clenched tightly around him, and it was that movement, that sensation, that drove him to his own limit. Aemond let out a low, guttural moan as he climaxed, his hips bucking hard one last time before burying himself deep inside you, spilling his seed inside you.

You felt Aemond's weight relax on top of you, his ragged breathing still echoing in your ear as you both tried to catch your breath. The warmth of his body, still attached to yours, offered unexpected comfort after the storm of emotions and desire that had just passed between you.

With a deep sigh, Aemond slowly stepped away, moving carefully so as not to upset the delicate balance that had been established in the room. He lay down next to you, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that seemed to contradict the intensity of what had just happened.

The room was filled with a comforting calm, the echo of the storm of passion fading, leaving only the tranquility that followed a battle well fought. You snuggled closer to him, seeking the warmth of his body and the comfort of his presence.

Aemond held you close to his chest, his hand gently stroking your back in a repetitive, soothing gesture. The beat of his heart, slow and steady now, was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. Little by little, the tension of the last few days began to fade, giving way to a peace that they both desperately needed.

#house of the dragon season 2 #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd season 2 #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #fanfic #writers on tumblr #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #angst

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mx-your-name · 8 months ago

Text

His Goddess

Possessive!Adam x Goddess!Reader

Warning: Yandere theme, Possessive Adam, nothing really about murder besides Adam’s dead and Sinners

Prompt: You are both of the goddess of Creation and Destruction

-It started off as you making a meeting of you and the rest of the gods and goddess about certain things that need to be taken care of and made a full balanced out scale so nothing could get destroyed or messed up.

-You were running a bit late since you had others to deal with.

-Your advisor who was the one to help out with your schedule had you do some stuff almost making you fully late to the meeting that you had set up.

“No! I told you! We need to act now! Heaven and Hell are going to destroy each other!” A female yelled. She was wearing a flowy white outfit, short white sleeves that stayed on her shoulder and across her chest making a big V shape. A cut on each side of the dress on each side of her legs so they could stick out. Some gold draped over her waist with a white blindfold over her eyes representing her covering her eyes so wouldn’t be able to cheat on the winning side. There was a scale on the table beside her where she could determine on what side to decide to choose from. A lion next to where she sits at the table. This was Themis the goddess of Justice and Law.

“I say they continue, it’s the only way to figure out the war! They need to sort this out themselves, we cannot interfere with anything or that’ll mess up everything that he built up! And they are to know nothing about our existence!” A male shouted back across the circular table from her. He was wearing mostly full armor and a helmet, he had a spear that slid into the chair arm rest that he sat on so he wouldn’t have to keep holding it. A red cape that fell behind him against his back. His shield that he always carried around next to him. There was mostly red and dark red on his clothes which represented the blood and violence. This was Ares the god of War and Courage

“Well we need to decide something or they'll be with each other and there won’t be anyone else any longer!” Themis responded back, her lion growling at the god of War. “I say that it goes on! They can decide their own damn fate with you determining what to happen with your stupid scale!” Ares remarked back, a tick appearing on his head as Themis gritted her teeth in anger. “Oh I can’t watch this! Why can't we all get along and love each other..” a male muttered to himself, he was wearing a white sash that goes over his body covering everything up. Giant white wings on his back that were against his back. This was Eros the god of Love and Desire, or as others call him Cupid.

Placing his fingers up his face pressing one against his mouth, as he glanced between the two who were fighting about the situation at hand. He sat beside the goddess of justice on the right side of her. A sigh comes from across Eros as he looks over to see a female that had a bird on her arm as she fed it. She was wearing a green draped dress that went down to her ankles, some green vines snaking around her head and on top of her head forming a flower crown that grew from the vines and bushes. This was Demeter the goddess of Nature and Fertility.

“What do you think about this matter, Demeter?” Eros asked, smiling a gentle closed smile. “I honestly don’t care about it unless it involves me, Eros. After all there’s really nothing we can do without interfering with what's happening between them both.” Demeter said, being fully honest about everything she stated. Eros felt his cheeks turn red, a bit admirable of the woman in front of him.

“Who cares what you think! I’m the god of War! And I say let it happen, how else did I solve my situation?” Ares slammed his hands on the table as he stood up glaring at Themis who also got up from her seat. “That doesn't mean anything! We need to stop it! And who cares about the war you’ve been through? You wanted to be in that war! And you know it!” Themis commented, anger written on her face.

Ares was going to resort back but was cut off by a loud voice enough in through the room. “That’s enough for both of you!” All attention went to you who was at the head of the table, Ares on your right and Themis on your left with Demeter next to Ares and Eros next to Themis. Both of them muttered sorry with a bow, immediately sitting back down after that.

You wore a long white and gold cloak that would almost reach the ground with a white looking dress that reached to the ground practically dragging against it. It wasn’t bigger than your height, instead it was made that way to shrink or grow depending on the height you wanted to go along with the same thing with the other gods and goddesses. Your black boots covered by the clothing, taking a seat as you started talking. You were the goddess of Creation and Destruction.

Everyone nodding their heads as they look at you, “Now let’s discuss what the situation is at hand. The heaven exterminators that have been killing sinners.” Glancing over at everyone then continuing on. “Does anyone have any ideas on what we should do about this at hand?” Questioning as you look towards Ares first letting him speak.

“I believe that we should just let them figure out their war against each other. If we intervene at all it could mess up everything and everyone would also find out about our existence which is supposed to stay a secret.” Ares explained knowing what might happen if you all stopped everything or tried to reveal yourselves. Nodding your head at the end of his words, “I see.. Themis? What do you have to say about this?”

“I think, sorry. I know that this is an incredibly stupid idea! If we don’t do anything then we are gonna have to keep reincarnating every single person that dies at the hand of the angels or they get completely wiped from this world of their existence! We’ve already had over 500 sinners dead since the last five extermination.” Themis went on, she was one to be level headed but at this point her patience was running thinner and thinner.

Letting out a hum as you quickly snapped your fingers making tea appear in front of everyone in the room. “Drink some tea and calm down Themis. You too Ares. Yelling isn’t gonna get anything done correctly.” You told them, Themis letting out a breath and drinking some of your tea as Ares just grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. “[Name], if I may speak up. I think we should be focused on those IMP’s right now. They’ve been destroying everything on Earth and killing people after people without a care in the world.”

Demeter spoke calmly, looking over at you as she pet her bird that sat on her finger. “Ah yes that was another problem I was going to discuss. Thank you for reminding me Demeter. Now about the IMP’s I think we should-” getting cut off by your words when a loud thud was heard at the other end of the room in front of the giant door. Everyone's head snaps towards the door, as the person who distrusted the meeting. You knew everyone would never intrude during the meetings especially even go near the room.

The person stood up grumbling looking around the room to see it was quite large, vines climbing up the walls to represent Nature, heart shaped lighting to represent Cupid, knight armor to represent War, scale alongside the walls to represent Justice, and nice interior design made from Creation. Getting a better look at the male face who looked at the five of you. Demeter eyes widened in surprise, Ares sprinting out his drink on accident eyes wide, Themis jaw was on the floor at who the male was, and Eros was freaking out.

You on the other hand were also surprised but shocked on how this could’ve happened. “Is… is that..?” Eros started, pointing his finger at the male who was shocked at your guy's height being even taller than him. “Who the fuck are you guys?” You recognized that look, clearing your throat as you softly smiled. “Welcome, Adam. Though I must ask what are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be up..here.”

You spoke smoothly, staring down at him with your eyes peering at him. “Oh I don’t know. I got fucking stabbed and killed! Where the hell am I?” He said sarcastically, everyone was whispering to themselves on what to do since no one besides them and their workers are supposed to be up high on these levels. Not even Sera was allowed up here. “Well if you must know you’re in the Tower of Heaven, Adam. Or as other people know it is the highest power that’s above where Gods stay and observe both heaven and hell.”

You explained guestering to the gods and goddess that sit at the table in front of him. Getting up from your seat as you go over to where Adam was three times divided by your height. Sitting down on your knees, scooping him up into your hands lifting him up to your eye level. Adam took a step back from how tall you and the others loomed over him.

“I sincerely apologize. I wasn’t expecting how this is how our first encounter would go. Especially when meeting you, Adam.” You apologized, smiling gently at him. “Uh-huh.. so this place is what? A fucking place for you tall ass gods? There’s no fu- sorry, way that there’s more than one god.” Crossing his arms, a pink blush lightly across his face that was very light for anyone to see. But Eros could feel the slightest of love coming from where Adam is standing, silently squealing internally.

“Yes, he is indeed the original and the most powerful but we’re the gods who represent other things. Eros is the god of love, Demeter the goddess of nature, Ares the god of War, and Themis the goddess of Justice.” You said adjusting Adam into one hand so he wouldn’t fall, pointing at every single god in the room who greeted him in a simple head nod, a wave, or just a simple hello. “And what are you the goddess of? Being hot and sexy?” A smirk was on his face as he looked up at you, placing a hand over your mouth as you let out a laugh.

“No no. I’m the goddess of creation and destruction. I’m mostly second in command of all the gods and demigods.” You told him, placing him back down on the ground. Once he was on it you stood up to your full height which was about 40 feet tall. With a snap of your fingers the whole room shifted into a normal sized room so everything wasn’t so big for the first man. Your once 40 foot tall figure is now around ten tall along with the other good and goddess in the room.

“They're much better, so you won’t have to keep looking up at us,” you joked laughing a bit.

-After that encounter and when the meeting was over you had taken a stroll around the place with Adam explaining why he was here and not back in heaven. Your reasoning being that once someone ACTUALLY die you were either completely deleted or reincarnated by the hands of you guys

-But since it was THE Adam he was able to stay here and observe people and do whatever he wanted. Though he wouldn’t be able to go back to heaven since that would mess up everything

-Time continued to pass and during that you and Adam would get closer and closer each passing day

-He felt like he was falling more in love everytime he saw you or when you talked.

-You were single to so it was a plus for him

-He’d be the more possessive type of lover, as day passed he felt the need to stay by your side no matter what

-Whether it was a gods meeting, you in your office, checking up on heaven, hell, and Earth, or just strolling around the garden enough the view of everything

-Wherever you went he went. And where he went you went. Since this is gonna have to be a two way thing, after all your lovers friends

-Eros felt the love come off from Adam whenever he was near which was every second

-Not only did Eros the god of love feel the love but he felt the love was more possessive and a bit obsessive but more on the possessive side

-He didn’t care about it since it was still love

-Not much between the Dickmaster and Cupid; the first man doesn’t really like how he talks about love especially with you but when it’s someone else it’s cool with him just stay away from you and then the two of them will be cool

-Demeter didn’t really feel the need to get to know Adam since she knew everything about him but respected him enough as another demigod like god of sea, god of animals, etc, etc

-Ares oh geez don’t let those two stay in a room too long all they're gonna talk about is the war that they were in. Ares being the non stop against humans and other gods while Adam was against the sinners in hell

-Ares respected Adam, and Adam respected Ares back

-Themis and Adam is a completely different level of dislike

-Not like Themis HATES Adam or anything just doesn’t.. trust him

-How could she when her scale is always lower on one side than the other? And it wasn’t the good side

-Sometimes it’s balanced

-Now back to the two of you! You could care less on what Adam thinks of you if it was a lover, friend, family, or whatnot

-You were a goddess of creation and destruction you could do anything you want

-You also made Adam his own room in an instant once he had came to the Tower of Heaven

-It wasn’t ever used. Adam always slept in your room after the his first week stay and getting to know you better

-Adam has apologized multiple times for cursing in front of you or the other gods when getting a glare or look that told him to not say any of those words. He started using it less and less but still uses it time to time when with you, you didn’t say anything about it much unless he was cussing WAY to much

#x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #Yandere Hazbin hotel x reader #yandere adam #adam x reader #Yandere Adam x reader #goddess reader x Adam #goddess reader #goddess!reader #the dickmaster #the first man #Yandere Hazbin hotel x goddess!reader #Hazbin hotel x goddess!reader

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mazikeenhyde · 19 days ago

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All is Fair in Love, War and Dominant Fuckery - Part 2

POLY JUDGMENT DAY – 18+ - MINORS DNI!

WARNING – FULL ANGST - FIGHTING (PHYSICAL&VERBAL), CHEATING, DRUGS, ED, DOMVS SUB etc

WRESTLER-READER (female) X WWE JUDGMENT DAY – RHEA RIPLEY, DAMIAN PRIEST, DOMINIK MYSTERIO, FINN BALOR

-Part 2 -

Finn and I had gotten back home a lot later than I expected, we had trained for a solid three hours in a local gym. He mainly focused on the weights section and training his already perfect abs. Meanwhile I was imagining Dom’s face on the punching bag and let all hell break loose, as I knocked the ever-loving shit out of it repeatedly, cussing the twat under my breath. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Dominik with all my heart, I loved every single one of them. But at times Dom could be such a dick, especially since the whole Liv Morgan storyline had started. He was different, he acted like a whole new person at times. I could sit back and close my eyes just imagining how much I would love to just throttle him until he begged me to stop, except when he would be pleading with me, I wouldn’t… not at first anyway.

As we made our way into the house it was dark, the lights were all off and the hallways silent. Kissing my forehead Finn quietly turned and crept upstairs as he was ready to shower and crash in bed. Same routine as ever for me, I needed to get a drink of water and have a moment to myself before I could turn off for the night.

Making my way into the kitchen I reached out and flicked on the undercounter lights, knowing full well they wouldn’t be half as bright as if I turned on the main one. I didn’t want to disturb the others who I imagined were all fast asleep, but I was wrong.

The second the light came on a dark figure leaning against the kitchen Island, mere inches in front of me came into full view. It was Rhea, and she was pissed.

Her eyes, like dark inviting pools you could easily drown in glared down at me as she stood with her arms crossed. Adorning her black skinny jeans and laced corset top her fingers tapped against her skin, running her nails along her bicep.

“Don’t Lie to me y/n.” She stated, bluntly, calmly and without any emotion.

Stepping to the side I spotted a small wooden box behind her, and I recognized it all to well. It had been hidden in my bedside cabinet. It was private, and I knew the only person who had found out about it, obviously couldn’t keep their mouth shut.

“little cunt” I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes for a second, but I was rather sharply bought back into reality as Rhea lunged herself forward, wrapping a hand around my throat and pushing me back, pinning me against the kitchen wall behind. Her grasp around my throat tightened and her eyes burned a whole wave of fury like I had never witnessed before.

A part of me was terrified in that moment, the other part a little turned on. But the fear was definitely winning.

“I’m not playing with you y/n.” Rhea spat out as her other hand slammed against the wall right next to my face.

Her grip around my throat loosened as she took a tight hold to the front of my hoodie instead and threw me forward, tossing me straight into the kitchen island. I fell forward, stomach taking the full impact as I braced over the counter and paused trying to catch my breath. Rhea came up behind me and taking a handful of my hair pulled me back up so I was standing again and whispered in my ear.

“Open it.”

But I dare not, I knew what she would say, and she would never understand.

“No.” I muttered silently, full of fear yet I knew the contents of that box needed to stay secret.

Rhea seemed genuinely surprised by my response for a second as her grasp on my hair got tighter.

“What did you say?” She spat out through gritted teeth, taking in a sharp deep breath and inhaling my scent. The smell of sweat and fear only further fueled that dominant side of her.

“I said…NO!” I tried to shout as I attempted to escape her grasp.

“I can open it…” a soft and quiet voice came from the shadowed hallway behind us. Rhea turned, pulling me with her as we both turned to see Dominik, in his black and yellow checkered pajama trousers and Latino Cheat t-shirt.

The boy took a step forward as Rhea released her grip on my hair and I took a step back, staring Dominik down.

“Don’t you fucking dare” I stated, staring a hole through him, but I could tell he was enjoying being able to one up me.

Before either of them could move I lept onto the Island countertop grabbing the box and holding it up in the air, away from their reach.

“FUCK OFF, JUST, JUST FUCK OFF THE LOT OF YOU!...”I paused to take a breath, “Why can’t you all just get out of my space, just get out of my, of my life for like 5 minutes!” I screamed, clearly loud enough that Damian and Finn had come downstairs and entered the kitchen as well in time to hear my great speech. They both seemed both surprised and a little worried at the sight of Rhea and Dominik standing at the base of the kitchen counter while I had somehow made my way to the top, waving a little wooden box in the air like it was the holy grail.

Finn stared up at me as Damian walked to the side, unfortunately for me being a short arse in comparison he could still reach my hands, even if my arms were fully stretched out. Wrapping one large arm around my waist he pulled me down while pulling the box out from my hand with the other and passing it over to Rhea.

“No Damian, stop! Please!” I pleaded as he placed me down on my feet and stood behind me. He held his arms out and held me in a tight embrace, it was both comforting and a little uneasy all at the same time. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be nice or just keep me still.

Dom smirked at me, offering a wink, like he was so pleased he could screw with me once again. Ever since Summer Slam he had found a new personality trait he was thriving off. This whole I’m better than everyone and I’m such a bad boy, blah blah blah. Even if I loved him, his behavior made me wanna knock him out so badly. He reached out his arm to take the box from Rhea, but she flicked his hands away, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Nah, that’s not how we are going to play this.” Her Azzie accent was thick, deep and felt all to emotionally invested in this very moment.

Slamming the box on the countertop she slid it over towards me, her eyes glaring through her dark eyeshadow. I could tell something in her had clicked.

“You want us out of your space, out of your life? Fine” she said, taking a step forward and placing one finger below my chin to raise it up to meet her, tears welling up in my eyes. She didn’t care though; you would think she was enjoying it.

“If this is so important to you, that it means more than what we have? Know damn well, that regardless of what anyone else thinks… I expected better from you, y/n”

Great, way to make me feel shit. I was getting the I’m not angry, just disappointed lecture.

“But Rhea? She…” Dom interjected but before he could finish I had finally had enough of him. Breaking away from Damian’s grasp I pushed passed Rhea and in one swift move, my fist collided with Dom’s face.

“FOR ONCE CAN YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I screamed as he fell back, gripping his face.

Damian was quick to grab a hold of me as Rhea got in between us and Finn latched onto Dominik before he could retaliate.

“You always gotta cause trouble don’t you y/n! You’ve always gotta be the center of attention!” He spat, wrestling with Finn’s grip. “Love over Loyalty y/n! and here you are keeping secrets!”

“HA! That’s rich! Seems like you’re the attention whore these days, parading around RAW like your some GOD!” I tussled and escaped Damian’s grip as Rhea latched her arm around my front while I got in Dom’s face.

“Funny thing, bringing up loyalty Dom Dom… how is Liv?” I questioned smiling, knowing full well I had hit a nerve. His cheek had turned red and was starting to swell at this point. It hurt my heart a little, but my anger soon buried those emotions.

“That. Is. Just. A. Storyline.” Dom was furious, spitting every word through gritted teeth. I raised my eyebrows enjoying the reaction from him as Rhea pushed me back into Damian who took a tighter hold of me.

“I Dunno Dom, seems a little too real these days” I offered him a wink, “Did you really need to spend sooooooo much time together outside of WWE’s walls. Someone’s enjoying themselves?”

“ENOUGH” Rhea shouted, slamming her fist on the counter. “ENOUGH!”

Just then a familiar ringtone filled the room, and I smirked as Dom’s face turned to his pocket.

Dom took a hard swallow as Rhea reached into his pocket and glared at the photo of Liv Morgan flashing up on his phone screen.

“Busted…” I sang out and smiled as Damian’s grip loosened on me.

Dom threw his arms up and out from Finn as he ran over and grabbed the box from the countertop…

“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me!” he shouted.

“NO!” I screamed and reached forward as he smashed it onto the floor, exposing its contents on the ground.

My secret spilled out across the tile floor and not a single member of the judgment day said a word. They just stared at the floor, forgetting for a moment that only seconds before Dom and I were ready to fully knock the shit out of each other.

Rhea turned to look at me, disappointment etched across her face.

"It's not what you think..." I pleaded with her, tears running down my cheeks.

"Then tell me y/n, tell me."

TBC

-Anyone want me to put them on a tag list for part 3? -

#the judgement day #the judgment day #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #damian priest x reader #damian priest #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor #wwe #wwe raw #poly!judgement day #wwe x reader

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cameronspecial · 8 months ago

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A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster.

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom.

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door.

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder. With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden.

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.”

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second.

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail.

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person.

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom.

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.”

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show.

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart.

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.”

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. “I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?”

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

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y3ager · 1 year ago

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STORYTIME I (26 F) FUCKED MY SUPERSTAR CLIENT (24 M) AFTER MONTHS OF SEXUAL TENSION!

— ‘i’m a manager for a pretty big music label and my client is the biggest dickhead in the world but i fear i fucked him after one of our usual arguments.. 😵‍💫’

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, smut, porn not much plot, hate(?)sex, cunnilingus, cowgirl, reader gets called ‘mama’ and ‘boss’, unprotected sex, mild choking, musician!eren, manager!reader. minors do not interact.

my first collab entry MAKE SOME NOISE YALL WTF!!! but no seriously thanks so much to @k9nto for letting me join your event i had a blast writing this! hope you all enjoy! 🤭

YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED SOME annoying people in your life. in kindergarten, a boy taunted you by picking up one your fallen hot pink knocker-balls and refusing to give it back to you. in high school, some chick named tiffany ripped down all of your junior class president posters that you spent weeks designing and printing out on the highest quality paper. your college advisor had been completely useless, you’d still be dragging yourself through your bachelor’s degree if you didn’t stay on your toes and realize the classes you were dropped in were a waste of time. but all of these people, and many more that have slipped your mind, shaped and molded you into the woman you were today. strong, tenacious, independent, a go-getter who never gave up and thus was able to reap her hard work, in the form of three nice crisp degrees and a never pitiful bank account.

but eren yeager, grammy award winning singer, songwriter and musician, with multiple weeks spent at the top of the billboard hot 100 and 200 charts, millions of units sold worldwide, and stadiums packed to the brim, took the fucking cake.

you were warned he’d be difficult. every manager he’s assigned quits before one of them ends up in a body bag. none of them have a single nice thing to say about him, and he finds that hilarious.

for better or for worse, you took the challenge because you’re a sucker for them. nothing in life comes easy, and you figured that the managers before just didn’t come hard enough. maybe eren’s fame and status made them falter, but such a fate wouldn’t befall you.

you dragged him to his magazine shoots, you kept his mouth in line during interviews, you kept his socials clean. he was never a second late to rehearsals and recordings. he was a reflection of you, and if you were perfect goddammit he was going to be too.

until today.

“i’m not putting in another extension, eren. the label is starting to get really irritable. we need to go to the studio now.” you furiously swiping along your ipad, pacing around the singer’s deluxe hotel room. while you’re dressed for the day in clean crisp clothes, sharp stilettos, and jet black lace front expertly melted and laid, eren’s still in the bed. the covers are everywhere, his shirt is next to a couple pillows on the floor, and he’s laying on his back eating a croissant from room service, paying you absolutely no mind. it takes everything in you to not chuck your device at his big head. “i’m serious. get. up.”

“and i said i’m not,” he mocks your assertive tone, voice oozing in sarcasm. “going.” he coughs, obviously faking. “my voice hurts. can’t make those greedy bastards money if my vocal chords ache. they’ll live.”

“you are on a strict deadline this era. if you want to catch award season, this album needs to be finished and dropped in the next month. amidst the press tour, your window of recording time is dwindling fast.” dates in your digital calendar glare at you, red and angry. every time you check something off your to do, ten new things pop up. you feel your jaw clenching, teeth gritting together uncomfortably.

“i’ve won enough awards. i don’t care. i’m not getting up.” eren finally raises up from the bed, narrowed green eyes meeting yours. it’s fire against fire, an unstoppable force that is a manager determined to do her job versus an immovable object, a musician who’s not budging from his spot. “it’s my album. it’s my music. i finish it when the fuck i get ready. that label will burn before they drop me.”

“if you don’t follow contract, they will drop you. they put a lot of money into you-”

“money i made back for those dumbasses-!”

“they are your bosses, without them-”

“they need me way more than i need them-!”

“get,” you toss your ipad over to a small couch, storming over to the bed. you snatch the edge of the covers and yank hard. enough is enough. if he won’t get up, you’ll make him get up. “the fuck out of this bed, eren, now!”

“you need,” the cover is yanked back, tugging you forward along with it. you lurch momentarily before righting yourself upwards, leaning back to give yourself more leverage in this childish tug of war you find yourself in. “to calm the fuck down, ___. i’m not going and that’s fucking it.” eren may be lean, but he’s toned like a MMA fighter, muscles rippling under tan skin when he calls upon them. another tug and you topple onto the california king bed, one expensive heel sliding off your foot and falling across the room.

your heads snaps up from the covers, brow furrowed deep in anger. “stop being so fucking difficult, you moron!” emotions welling, you grab one of his arms, preparing to drag him out of this bed. your to do list is a nagging itch on your brain that by the grace of god you are going to scratch. you’re not about to let this bad-with-authority dickhead best you when all he has to do is record a fucking vocal.

“oh, we’re doing this?” easily, too easily, so easily that you register your back hitting the soft bed before you realized he even grabbed you back. he pins you down easily, slightly calloused hands grip your upper arms firmly, pushing them down. he places his legs other either side of your hips so yours are forced in between them, but doesn’t keep you from writhing to free yourself. “whatever fucking—stop doing that—chip you have on your shoulder, you need to fucking solve it because shit’s not going your way today. i’m not going and that is final.”

the tussle leaves you two of you panting, eyes boring into each other’s. eren’s long chocolate brown hair is disheveled not only from a night’s sleep but from this impromptu wrestle. small beads up sweat trickle down his naked chest. your writhe again, and he presses down against you, a synonymous hiss sliding through both of your mouths.

“i hate you, eren.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, ___. looks like you wanted an excuse to feel up on me.”

“oh, like you wanted an excuse to hump me like a mutt?”

there’s another beat of silence as you two watch each other. eren’s hands tighten their hold just a tad before he presses his hardening length hard against your clothed cunt. against your better judgement, your head tilts back and a small moan fights against your bitten bottom lip.

eren hums lowly, his dick bulging against the constraint of his boxers. “hate me too much to actually fuck me, huh? i’m only worth a dry hump.”

oh how eren frustrates you. how he makes even the simplest things in life painstakingly difficult. how he makes you want to smoke ten packs of cigarettes after a day of dealing with him. but oh, how handsome he looks under the lights at photo shoots. how his deep, smooth voice reverbs in your ears. how his fingers move so deftly on his guitar, as if it’s merely an extension of his body. who wouldn’t fantasize about that late at night, him bending you over and snatching down your pants to fuck the stress out of you, or yourself knocking him down a peg and making him beg to let you cum inside.

“shut-” another roll of his hips makes you gasp. “up..”

“i want you, ___,” eren confesses. his hips don’t falter, his cock becoming hungry for release. “i want that pussy. i wanna fuck that little attitude out of you, can i? i see how you look at me and i stare right back.”

you shiver, hand rushing to undo your dress pants and feel more of eren’s dick against your dampening cunt. his hands work with your perfectly, yanking your pants down. it’s a whirlwind of clothes, your sweater, bra, your other shoe.

eren reaches up to grab your breasts, rolling them in his palms, squeezing the supple flesh, pushing them together. “oh, pretty girl. pretty fuckin’ tits.” leaning down, he kisses down your sternum, stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. he wastes no time grabbing your thighs and licking a nice, long stripe against your drooling cunt and sucking on your clit.

your back immediately arches up and your hands fly to grip eren’s hair, tugging at the locks and pulling him in closer so you can feel everything. “oh my god, eren.” the singer’s not shy at all, audibly sucking at you and reaching up to twist and pinch your pebbled nipples.

with another languid lick eren pulls himself away. he pulls his boxers down on and off, freeing his dick from the constraint. he rubs the thick, weeping tip up and down your slit, staring hungrily at the juices leaking out. the feeling of it makes you shiver in anticipation.

“mmm, mm-mm.” you push yourself up. “let me get ‘n top..” there’s a greedy look in your low eyes as you place your hand on eren’s solid chest and lay him down on the bed.

“take charge here too, huh?” your forwardness makes him chuckle as he watches you straddle his waist. “okay then. ride me.”

you brace yourself on your toes as his hand and yours grasp his shaft, directing it to your pulsing hole. you slide down gingerly onto him, his size quickly stretching you out. “ahh, fuck, eren. fuck…”

“you got it,” he assures you, one hand on your thigh as you sink lower and lower, taking him in inch by inch. he bites his lip at the wet tightness of your walls, squeezing and sucking him in. it makes him throw his head back, a couple of small pants escaping his mouth. “mmhm, fuck that pussy feels so good. take that dick, boss.” his hand raises only to land on your ass check with a sharp slap.

you start out slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the wideness of his dick but that quickly gets old. you’re soon addicted to the feeling of him fitting inside so perfectly. gripping his free hand in yours, you swivel and raise your hips faster and faster, effortlessly, desperate for that feeling of him pounding that oh so sweet spot. your juices slide down his length, the slap slap slap of your ass against his muscled thighs filling the room. “‘s so big, feels so good,” your voice slurs.

eren hisses from his spot under you, eyes trained on where you two connect. mouth slightly agape, he watches your cunt swallow him up and the fluid that leaks out. “yes, mama. keep fucking me just like that. feels.. f-fuckin’ amazin’…” his hands grab your plump ass cheeks, fingers digging in hard as he thrusts his hips up, driving the tip of his cock even deeper inside you and pulling a loud moan from you. “keep goin, mama, ‘m almost there, don’t stop, please..”

his pleading make you clench even tighter around him, and that feeling deep inside your tummy aches for release. you place a hand around his throat to better balance yourself, relishing in his low groan. your thighs quake and tremble, your hips meeting his eager thrust perfectly. “oh, my god; oh my god. i’m— shit!” you throw your head back in ecstasy, cumming hard enough on your client’s dick to leave you numb.

“aw, fuck, boss.” eren thrusts up to push his cum deep inside, holding you against himself to ensure a single drop doesn’t leak. “take it, take it..”

the two of you are left panting hard, bodies sweaty and gleaming with the afterglow of sex. you gingerly pull away, cunt left sore and spent from a round of sex months in the making. eren reaches over to caress your ebon lips, admiring the smooth, wet feeling once you roll onto your back. “no more attitude from you, yeah?”

“no more attitude from the man reduced to calling me ‘mama’ and begging to cum either, i’d assume.” your teasing laughter is cut off by him purposefully sinking three fingers deep inside you. “mmh…”

“mhm, sure.” roles reversed, eren climbs on top of you and stares down with green eyes aflame with lust through his tousled brown hair. “now i want to see what i can make you call me.”

#eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #❤️‍🔥.aotsmut #kishibyesredditcollab

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createdbytragedy · 6 months ago

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MY GIRLFRIEND (3),(2),(1)

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x reader Genre: Fluff, crack, established relationship Warning: Mention of marking, Gyu loves being marked with lipstick, that's it, i think A/N: This was a bit rushed and not my best work. I might edit it but bear with me right now

Beomgyu ironically considered himself an introvert.

That would be the biggest bullshit you and the members have ever heard. Him? An introvert? It was like his mouth was running from a battery that could never tire out! At least that was what Yeonjun said. You never mind the way Beomgyu blabbers. It was, in fact, the thing that made you fall in love with him. And right now it's also the reason you were in trouble.

It was common for Beomgyu to talk about you to his members and anyone within the radius of 10 feet and most of the time, it wasn't much of a problem. Not that anyone ever said it wasn't a problem at all. But it was getting hard trying to shut his mouth infront of the cameras. They needed to live a rather heedful life than the normal people but in the end, they were still humans. One among us. So, You can excuse Beomgyu for accidentally letting your name slip every once in a while, right?

In an interview

"Beomgyu - ssi, I personally love your necklace. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I love it too!! it's so pretty, right?! my girlfriend--," a loud slap on his thighs made him hiss and stop mid sentence to glare at the boy beside him. "Me, me. I bought it for him! I'm the girlfriend!! Beomgyu and I have been dating since our trainee days, right Gyu?," Yeonjun asked, glaring at the male through a fake smile plastered across his face. "I wouldn't date you even if you were the last girl standing on earth......," Beomgyu muttered under his breath, rubbing at his thighs where there was a noticeable red handprint of Yeonjun. "You wanna say that louder, Jagi, it didn't quite reached the camera," Yeonjun said through gritted teeth, squeezing the boy's thighs and purposefully digging his fingernails into his skin. Beomgyu hisses, making eye contact with Yeonjun who innocently smiled at him ," I was saying, thank you," Beomgyu's hands rested on his knee, pinching the skin with his oh, so long nails ," very much for the necklace, Hyung," he smiled, seeing how Yeonjun's face scrunched up in pain, " but, I think you got it messed up because someone else got this for me." "We have no idea what they're doing." Taehyun commented, looking at the camera. With Beomgyu's carelessness, your relationship was at risk of publicity. But, can you really stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? With those big, brown, puppy like eyes, saying he's sorry and that he'll be careful next time. How can you not give into that? It should've been no surprise when you come across his new Instagram post. Beomgyu was not sorry about his actions at all. He have always wanted to reveal his relationship with you. Wanted to show the world that you're his and he's yours. He was intentionally dropping hints.' Accidentally' mentioning your name, showing off your matching necklace, wearing low necklines to make sure the red lipstick stain on his collarbone was vaguely shown. He wanted to tell the world he was taken and you were off limits. And maybe this time, he really let his heart win. The picture was taken by him. Both of you staring at each other instead of the camera, lost in each other's eyes. His face was covered with your lipstick stain because Beomgyu loves being marked. And the photo itself was enough the shake the world. And for once, you didn't care about the consequences of his action, instead smiling when his name popped in your notification. MY LOVE <3 "Oops, sorry, accidentally posted that. Didn't mean to :(" "But, don't we look cute?" "Kinda want you to come over and mark my face all over again." Well, you could read the comments and think about the aftermath later. Right now you had priorities. You thought as you took your lipstick out from the drawer and headed for the door.

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fafnir19 · 7 months ago

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A prized possession

Leroy, a cocksure college jock with a swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eye, felt the power of the sports car beneath him like an extension of his own virility. He grinned smugly as he revved the engine of his father’s Porsche, the sleek metallic body gleaming under the sunlight. Yet, his reign was soon to face a tumultuous turn.

One fateful evening, as Leroy lounged in the living room watching reruns of sports games, his father’s voice boomed through the room like thunder, “Son, we need to talk.” Leroy’s heart skipped a beat, the ominous tone causing a chill to run down his spine. “What’s up, Dad?” Leroy feigned nonchalance, trying to keep his voice steady. His father's face was grave as he uttered the words that shattered Leroy’s world, “I lost the Porsche in a gamble.” Leroy’s eyes widened in disbelief, his expression mirroring a deer caught in headlights. “You did WHAT?” he exclaimed, the blood draining from his face. “That’s illegal! We can't just give away the Porsche!” His father’s jaw was set with unwavering determination, “It's a matter of honor, Leroy. A gentleman keeps his word, even when the stakes are high.”

Leroy's mind raced with a million thoughts. How could he live without his beloved Porsche? It was his pride and joy, his ticket to popularity and admiration. He had to think fast, come up with a plan to save his precious car from falling into the hands of a stranger. An idea sparked in Leroy's mind, as he concocted a plan. “Let me bring the Porsche to the winner. I’ll have one last ride, say my goodbyes,” he proposed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His father looked at him with a mix of pride and curiosity. "Very well, Leroy. If that's what you wish, then go ahead. But remember, honor is at stake here," his father warned, his tone firm.

Little did his father know, Leroy had a trick up his sleeve, a cunning scheme to outwit the winner and reclaim what was rightfully his. The Porsche would not be lost to some stranger; it belonged with Leroy, and he would stop at nothing to ensure it stayed that way.

As Leroy pulled up to the grand mansion where the winner was waiting, he couldn't shake the unease settling in his stomach. The imposing gates swung open, revealing Miles, a handsome man with a confident smirk on his face.

Leroy stepped out of the Porsche, his eyes narrowing as he faced the new owner of his beloved car. "Congratulations on winning the Porsche, Miles," Leroy said, his voice laced with a hint of defiance. Miles chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, the previous owner himself. Come, let me drive you back home." Leroy hesitated for a moment before accepting, climbing into the passenger seat of the Porsche beside Miles. The engine roared to life, and they sped off down the winding road, the wind whipping through Leroy's hair.

Leroy gritted his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead. "So, Miles, about the Porsche... I believe there's been a misunderstanding. Gambling is illegal, and I can't let you keep it."

"So, Leroy," Miles began, his voice smooth as silk, "you mentioned gambling is illegal. Is that your only concern?" Leroy's jaw tightened. "It is against the law, and I won't stand by—" Miles raised a hand, cutting him off and began, his voice smooth like velvet. "You really do love this car, don't you?" Leroy's grip on the seat tightened. "The Porsche and I belong together. It's more than just a car to me." Miles arched an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Well then, let me show you just how much you belong to this car."

Leroy couldn't help but notice the strange sensation creeping over him. His trackpants seemed to morph into the same leather material as the car seats, fitting snugly against his toned legs. "Um, what's happening?" Leroy mumbled, eyeing his transformed attire warily. Miles chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just relax, Leroy. Enjoy the ride." With a sudden burst of speed, Miles hit the gas pedal, pressing Leroy back into the seat. The sensation was exhilarating, almost electrifying. Leroy's t-shirt and bomber jacket underwent a magical makeover, turning into a stylish leather jacket that revealed his sculpted six-pack underneath.

Wideeyed, Leroy stammered, "This... this isn't normal, right?" Miles flashed a knowing grin, his hand effortlessly shifting the aluminum gear lever. As Miles's fingers grazed the gearshift, Leroy felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through him, making his heart race in excitement. "Oh, what is...?" Leroy's words trailed off as Miles continued to stroke the gear lever lightly, sending shivers down Leroy's spine. A stirring in his loins caught Leroy off guard. His body responding to Miles's touch of the gearshift in ways he couldn't explain and suddenly he sported an boner. Miles' voice cut through Leroy's haze of desire. "Do you enjoy this ride, Leroy?" Leroy could only moan in response, his body aching for more of the exhilarating sensations coursing through him. The Porsche surged forward, the speedometer climbing higher and higher. Just when he thought he couldn't take the pleasure any more, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, the electronic limiter kicked in, halting the acceleration abruptly. And then, in a sudden twist of fate, Leroy felt a strange sensation around his nether regions. Looking down in his pants, he saw an aluminum chastity cage materialize around his manhood, fitting seamlessly with the Porsche's aesthetic and locking him in a state of bewildered arousal.

"Miles, what have you done to me?" Leroy cried out, his voice a mix of shock and desire. Miles just smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Do you feel it, Leroy? The connection between you and the Porsche? Embrace it, let go of your inhibitions." Leroy's heart pounded in his chest as he pleaded with Miles. "Please, stop this! Let me go!" he cried out, his voice laced with fear and desperation. Miles, with a devious smile playing on his lips, pulled over to the side of the deserted road. With shaking hands, Leroy reached for the door handle, ready to bolt from the car and escape the enigmatic gaze of Miles. Was this his chance to break free from whatever strange spell had been cast upon him? Leroy tensed, preparing to make a run for it. However, his eyes widened in shock as Miles got out of the Porsche and opened the door on Leroy's side.

Before he could take a single step, Miles's firm grip pushed him back into the leather seat. With a quick movement, Miles lowered Leroy's pants, revealing the smooth expanse of his skin.

Leroy's breath hitched in his throat, his body reacting to the sudden exposure. And then, as if in a surreal dream, Miles unveiled his stiff uncut cock, pressing it against Leroy's unprepared entrance.

The initial pain of penetration tore through Leroy, eliciting a scream that echoed through the quiet surroundings. But as the initial shock faded, a different sensation began to bloom within him, one of heat and forbidden pleasure. Miles's movements were deliberate and precise, each thrust igniting a different kind of fire within Leroy's core. The leather seats beneath him seemed to mold to his every curve, cradling him in a strange comfort he couldn't deny. With each push and pull, Leroy's world narrowed down to the point of contact, where pleasure mingled with pain in a dance as old as time itself. His moans filled the air, a symphony of conflicting emotions that only seemed to spur Miles on further. Leroy found himself lost in a whirlwind of sensations, his body no longer his own but a vessel for something primal and raw. The aluminum shifter gleamed in the dim light, a silent witness to the passion unfolding within the confines of the luxurious car and Miles' dark eyes bore into his, holding him in their hypnotic gaze as he whispered, "You're like my Porsche: sporty, good-looking and only meant for the pleasure of rich men! You’re my Porsche-boy now!"

Leroy's mind reeled with confusion and desire as he found himself trapped in a situation he never could have anticipated. Miles's dark eyes bore into him, a predatory glint dancing within them as he took control of the situation. "What have you done to me?" Leroy managed to stammer out, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and arousal. Miles's lips curved into a knowing smile, his fingers trailing lightly over the aluminum gearshift. "Relax, Leroy. You're exactly where you belong now," he purred, his voice like velvet, laced with a hint of danger. Leroy's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled against the strange sensations coursing through him. The metallic cage around his manhood felt constricting yet oddly exhilarating, reminding him of his newfound connection to the Porsche. Miles leaned in closer, his breath warm against Leroy's skin. "You're not Leroy anymore. You're Porsche-boy, my exclusive toy," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down Leroy's spine.

Leroy's mind reeled with conflicting emotions. Was this his fate now, to be nothing more than an expensive toy in the hands of a wealthy man? His muscles tensed beneath the snug leather jacket that now adorned his chiseled body, a silent reminder that Miles' wants him to look gay. With a resigned nod, Leroy accepted his new identity as Porsche-boy, letting go of the name Leroy as if it were a burden too heavy to bear. The leather seats cradled him, molding to his form as though they were a part of him, just like the aluminum chastity cage that held his desire in check. Taking a deep breath, Porsche-boy slid behind the wheel, his hands trembling slightly as he turned to Miles and asked, "Where should I drive you, my owner?"

Miles smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned back in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on Porsche-boy with possessive intent.

"Take me to the heart of the city, Porsche-boy. Show me what this sleek machine of yours can do." With a nod, Leroy revved the engine, the powerful roar of the Porsche filling the air around them. He felt a surge of adrenaline as he tore down the open road, the wind whipping through his hair, the leather jacket tight against his skin. As they sped through the city streets, Leroy revelled in the feeling of freedom and power that came with being Miles' Porsche-boy.

With each passing moment, he embraced his new role, the lines between pleasure and pain blurring in a heady mix of desire and submission. And as the city lights blurred past them, Leroy knew that his journey was far from over. He was no longer Leroy, the college jock with an alpha mentality. He was Porsche-boy, a prized possession in the eyes of his wealthy owner, destined for a world of luxury, pleasure, and uncharted desires. And in that moment, as he surrendered to the intoxicating rush of the unknown, Leroy found a sense of fulfillment he had never known before. As a result, he forgot his former name and Leroy was no more. In his place stood Porsche-boy, a symbol of luxury and desire, a testament to the intoxicating allure of submission and control.

Embracing his fate as Miles' Porsche-boy, he knew that this new chapter in his life would be anything but ordinary.

#straight to gay #servant #male transformation #male tf #personality change #mind corruption #jock toy

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btsmosphere · 6 months ago

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 8: On the Force

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook smiles at you for the first time (and the second).

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 1.2k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: none :)

a/n: bonus midweek update!! because of the short length of this and the next chapter, I didn't want to keep you waiting a whole week for each, but they really do stand on their own so I didn't want to merge them either. the adventure continues as normal on Sunday!

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Namjoon’s steps seemed to fall in slow motion as he crossed to his desk. Chairs stood in front of it, but Jungkook had ignored them entirely, upright and standing to attention as his leader faced you both.

Your eyes flicked between the two men. The loaded silence was only intensified by Jungkook’s unflinching gaze, waiting for the hammer to fall when Namjoon would finally speak.

He sucked in a breath.

“Well done.”

Now your gaze snapped abruptly to Namjoon. Blinking, his words replayed in your head as if to prove what you had actually heard.

Beside you, Jungkook’s jaw dropped, tension leaking from his shoulders.

Small smile quirking his mouth, Namjoon chuckled.

“You seem surprised.”

Hesitant, you turned your eyes to Jungkook. His met yours, wide and startled like you had never seen him. How someone like him could ever look so innocent-

“Uh-um,” Jungkook tripped over his tongue, “Y/N wasn’t… we weren’t supposed to be on duty.”

“But you stepped up when we needed you,” Namjoon cut in. Stroking his chin, he raised an eyebrow at Jungkook, “together. I’m impressed by that. It seems you can put aside your differences when it matters, and agree on something.”

You pressed your lips together at his words. Sure enough, Jungkook did the same; Namjoon may have been less impressed had he witnessed Jungkook’s resistance to your help.

Next under Namjoon’s gaze, you tried your best not to look shifty.

“That was also very impressive control from you. At great risk, you managed to snuff out what Bolt was after.”

No words came to you. Dropping your eyes to the floor, you gave a flustered, jerky bow of your head.

Jungkook eyed you from the corner of his eye as you stayed like that, offering only silence. A crease shot along his brow. But he turned back to Namjoon and spoke up, shifting the topic.

“How did Bolt get on us in the first place?”

That drew a sigh from Namjoon. Tugging at his chin, he took a seat.

“He must know our plan. It’s been long enough that we can’t disguise these as random attacks any longer. Media this week has been plastered with calls for vigilance. ‘Villainous movements’ or something. A confrontation like this has been coming for a while.”

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook kicked a chair out with his heel and fell into it. His glare was directed at the ceiling.

More carefully, you took a seat yourself.

“The one time we aren’t attacking, he sees fit to send an army?!”

“Tonight wasn’t an opportunity for him to win any glory,” Namjoon shook his head, “why show his face unless he’s defeating a visible evil? He’s using others, leaving them to fight with the weapons he's already stolen.”

“Probably pin it all on our side in the media,” Jungkook muttered, venomous.

Sitting back, Namjoon held his hands out. Resigned.

“We’re used to that,” he continued calmly, “but him not tackling this in person also tells us we’re right. He’s working on something, and he wants us out of the way – but he can’t risk being the visible instigator of a confrontation.”

“You’re hitting him where it hurts, then,” you added.

“And we can’t stop,” Namjoon agreed, “but this will make it more of a challenge. Which is why you came together at the perfect time – I need you back on board.”

A smirk slid onto Jungkook’s face, but not in time to disguise the hint of much-less-suave delight that lit up his eyes at Namjoon’s declaration. He swelled under his leader’s approval.

“Both of you,” Namjoon continued, “Y/N, you proved you have what we need. Keep training, each of you, but you’re with us now.”

His smile was genuinely warm as he finished. Bolstered by his happiness, you walked out glowing.

Just outside the door, you paused, releasing a sigh. All the adrenaline, the uncertainty and now the relief spilled out of you. You turned to Jungkook.

Abruptly, you were rendered speechless.

He was smiling.

At you.

You had of course seen him smile, but only among the others. It was only now that you felt the full blast of his grin, showing his front teeth and scrunching his nose up. As he looked at you, his smile slipped away, but the happy light never dimmed in his eyes.

“I guess we did it,” you spoke, “are you still mad at me?”

He rolled his eyes, but it was accompanied by a genuine chuckle.

Turning to saunter back through the corridor, he allowed you to fall into step beside him. A smile still hid behind his next words.

“Of course I am.”

“My apologies then,” you replied with an equally suppressed grin, “next time I won’t help you out. My incredible skills are clearly wasted here-”

“I knew it would go to your head,” Jungkook scoffed.

“I don’t see any danger of it surpassing yours in size, don’t worry.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at your gleeful smile. Together, you reached the base of the stairs and he let you go first, crossing his arms as he hung back a couple of steps.

A flurry of scuffling feet and poorly muffled giggles reached your ears as you ascended, bringing your attention ahead of you once more. On reaching the top, a foot whisked around the corner; someone in a hurry to get to the living room. Their hurry couldn’t erase the glimpse you had just caught of several curious sets of eyes peeking around it, though .

Fond smile emerging on your lips, you marched down the corridor. In front of you, a large, shrieking pile of limbs was toppling over the back of the nearest sofa.

“Yah-”

Yoongi’s tired grumblings mingled with Jimin’s giggles and Hobi’s yelps as the lot of them tried to disentangle from one another. V was the last to sheepishly clamber off the unsuspecting hyung they had squashed.

Over in the kitchen, Jin shot a knowing glance towards you all from his spot by the stove. He held your gaze with a warm smile.

“So? What did Joon say?” Jimin asked, bringing you back.

Multiple sets of curious eyes blinked up at you and Jungkook.

“He was impressed,” Jungkook spoke, moving around to sit, “we’re back on the force.”

A chorus of whoops followed, Jungkook’s brothers grabbing and jostling him in celebration. But they didn’t forget you either: before you knew it, you were being tugged down by Hope too, onto the other sofa as he continued his joyful congratulations.

Breathless with laughter, you managed to escape (though your hair was surely a ruffled state).

The grin paused on your lips as you locked eyes with Jungkook, who was being equally harassed by Jimin, Yoongi patting him on the back. Your lips closed, ready to swallow down the elation if Jungkook was going to be displeased with you joining in, infringing on his group.

He gave you a timid smile.

Thank you for reading! You guys are the most amazing readers, thank you for all your wonderful enthusiasm for this series💜💜

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities

@parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack

@oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

@kokoandkookie @veemegatron @kookxin @seokout @jkayy

@peaaachpit @stxrrielle @welcometomyworld13 @ssexsellls @ramicherie

@jk5t4r @purplebeebs

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook series #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook mafia au #jungkook au #jungkook villain au #bts supernatural au #bts series #jungkook imagine #jeongguk scenarios #jeongguk x you #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook enemies to lovers #bts e2l

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raginglesbian2006 · 9 months ago

Note

I just read your Alastor x an overlord reader and it was literally amazing!!! I was wondering if you could do husk x an overlord reader next?

My first Husk fic! To be honest, I was hesitant to write this one since I ship him with Angel so much but I decided to give it a try anyway!

Hope you enjoy it!!

Husk with an overlord! reader

Ok, so you met him when he was an overlord as well

He, of course, beat you quite spectacularly at a game of cards. It impressed you, to be honest

Slowly, the two of you formed a friendship- him giving you some of the souls he'd win from gambling and you gifting him the finer luxuries of life, with booze, obviously.

Safe to say, both your love languages were gift-giving

So it surprised you when he suddenly stopped talking to you

You tried approaching him quite a lot, but he brushed you off, not looking you in the eye

Soon, you'd start hearing rumors about Husk selling his soul away to none other than....the radio demon

Your hands clutched around nothing. That bastard.

Seeing as he was now bound to the ever-grinning overlord, it wouldn't be until the Hazbin Hotel popped up that you were able to see your dear friend again

When you were made aware of the fact that the radio demon had started sponsoring the hotel, you knew that's where you would find Husk

And right, you were

He looked...dead. As if all the life was sucked from his being- never mind the fact that everyone in hell was in fact, not alive. Your dead heart ached at his miserable state

He hadn't noticed you when you walked into the establishment, greeted by the princess of hell herself. Your eyes stayed fixated on him, trying to get him to notice you without saying a word

Alastor materialized in front of you, his face stuck in a permanent grin

"Why, it is a surprise seeing you here, dear. Don't tell me you want to sponsor this hotel as well?"

Oh, how you wished you could punch this motherfucker. You could, it's just that you didn't want a fight to break out in front of Husk. He would probably scold you after.

"Alastor," you acknowledged him, "Rest assured, this fine establishment is all yours for the keeping. I am here for... other purposes."

Hearing your voice ring through the lobby, Husk stopped cleaning the glasses and looked at you. You were still talking to Alastor, but if looks could kill, the radio demon would've been dead by now.

After Alastor disappeared, the princess of hell excitedly introduced you to everyone, although you didn't need much of an introduction.

You approached Husk soon after and sat down in front of the bar. He didn't meet your eyes

"Husk," you greeted. He mumbled out your name in response.

The silence persisted and your annoyance grew.

"How have you been?" you asked.

"Just peachy," he replied, dryly.

"You know if I didn't care for you that much I would probably have already hung you upside down and tortured you till you spoke to me properly."

At this, Husk chuckled a little and finally met your eyes.

"It's nice to see you too"

Sensing your worry, he continued, "You don't need to worry about me. As you see, I'm doin' just fine."

"You say that as if you haven't sold your soul to the radio demon," your voice rose a bit.

Husk grumbled a little under his breath, "You don't know anything."

"Then tell me," you emphasized, "If you were that downtrodden on your luck, you could've just told me. I would've helped you out! You know I would've.

"Can we not do this right now?" Husk gritted his teeth, his angry eyes staring you down.

You huffed and relented, "As long as you promise, you're gonna talk about this with me, later." He agreed.

When no one was around, he told you about how he struck a deal with Alastor as a last resort, after having lost souls through gambling game after game. His reasoning for not talking to you about his struggles was that he didn't want to see him like that. Like he was struggling to stay afloat.

You didn't say anything. The only thing in your head was how you could help him get out of his situation now.

The rest of your day together was spent relishing in good memories, bonding over drinks, and ended with him beating you in a game of cards, again.

Before he retired for the night, you called out to him, "You know I would do anything to help you, you just need to ask."

Husk chuckled, "I know. I know. But I'm fine as long as I get to see you again."

From the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow. You turned around to see who it was, finding an empty corridor instead. You shrugged it off.

After helping Husk settle into his room and rest for the night, you disappeared with a click of your fingers.

A shadowy figure approached the radio demon. It slithered up to him and whispered to him whatever it saw and heard.

"Interesting..." Alastor's eyes lit up and his grin grew menacingly, "Interesting, indeed."

A/N: This turned out to be a whole ass fic lmao.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x overlord!reader

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

Text

Unravelling the Pact

After back-to-back missions, you and the boys finally get some downtime. Enjoying the nightlife on Coruscant, a stranger is all too willing to dance with you, leading to the boys making a decision that will change everything. Pre-Echo.

Pairing: All Batch x f!reader

Word count: 3.6K.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: dancing with a stranger in a club, grinding, possessive Batch (but in a non-toxic way), bickering brothers, small insult from a stranger, flirting, pet names, communication and consent are sexy, discussion of poly, first kiss, roaming hands, I guess this counts as friends to lovers?

A/N: I'll die on the hill that Tech and Cross are tube twins, and that Wrecker is a smart/emotionally intelligent man.

This can be read as a stand-alone or as a prequel to Painted Pretty.

The loud music drowned out the sounds of the city outside, the dancefloor vibrating under your feet from the heavy bass as you moved to the beat.

Nearby, tucked in a booth, the boys kept an eye on you. Dancing wasn’t really their thing, especially after the string of back-to-back missions you’d all been running, but that hadn’t stopped you from wanting to let loose a little more. You’d dragged them out of the hotel, having splurged a little on some rooms with comfortable beds during this period of shore leave, knowing you all needed some R&R.

You’d found an okay-looking club where the boys didn’t draw too much attention – they didn’t look like Regs, which opened up a world of new possibilities, especially once they donned their civilian clothes. Drinks were decently priced, and the floor wasn’t sticky, both of which were a win in your books. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you occasionally, but you paid them little mind. That was their prerogative if they wanted to be sourpusses and stay in the booth.

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them safe. As their civilian handler, you fed them missions and made sure they came back in one piece – the Kaminoans couldn’t have anything happen to their prized experimental unit, after all – and surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for them to warm up to you, for you to become one of them. The black Aurebesh ‘99’ Crosshair had inked on your wrist six months ago, while the others crowded around and watched, was a constant reminder of that.

“Uh oh, incoming,” Wrecker grumbled, eyes watching as someone made a beeline through the bar towards you.

All eyes at the table snapped in your direction. Hunter’s jaw clenched, Tech’s fingers tightened around his datapad, Wrecker sat up straighter, and Crosshair’s eyes narrowed at the man approaching you.

Clammy hands on your waist spooked you a little, and you turned to find the culprit. “You look a little lonely out here.” The man who’d approached you spoke. He was a little taller than you and couldn’t be more than a few years older, with tousled blonde hair and green eyes. His smile was warm, as was his body as he pressed closer. “Dance with me.” He insisted, shifting behind you, sliding an arm around your waist to pull your back to his chest and your ass to his crotch, the pair of you now moving to the beat.

At the booth, the boys bristled. Downing the last of the Corellian whiskey he’d been nursing, Crosshair stood. He could only make it one step in your direction before Hunter stopped him. “Vod.” His older brother's voice made him groan, turning back to face the table.

Hunter shook his head. “We agreed not to interfere.” He points out.

Crosshair grits his teeth. “He’s got his hands on her.” He hisses out, sparing a glance over his shoulder in your direction.

“And she doesn’t seem to mind,” Hunter states, even though it kills him inside to admit it. He was trying not to listen to your fluttering heartbeat or the flirtatious words being whispered in your ear by the stranger, but you were like a damn honing beacon, and he couldn’t tune it out.

“I mind,” Crosshair answers sharply, narrowed brown eyes focused on his oldest brother.

Hunter sighs quietly. Crosshair’s distrust of outsiders and his jealous streak had always been an issue. It was a miracle he’d taken to you so quickly a year ago - Hunter had been sure they’d go through countless handlers as the war progressed.

Frustration flashed in Crosshair’s eyes. “She’s ours.” He states.

“We agreed.” Hunter leans forward in his seat, silently imploring his brother to sit back down and shut up. Ever since they’d been old enough to talk, they’d formed pacts. And when you’d joined them, a new pact had been added to the list.

Pact 52. None of them would make a move on you, regardless of the fact they wanted you.

Your comfort was paramount, and they didn’t want to put you in an awkward position.

“You’d be fine if she went home with him?” Crosshair spits the word like it's poison, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the stranger you’re dancing with, whose hands are grasping at your body as if he’s known you his entire life.

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that. He wouldn’t be okay with it. Not at all, in fact. But you’re a grown woman and he has no say in what, or who you do. If you want to spend the night in a stranger's bed, all he can hope is that you’ll leave your tracker on, insist he wraps it, and comm them if there’s a problem.

“I would not be fine with it,” Tech interjects, his eyes shifting between his brothers, datapad long forgotten on the table.

Hunter huffs. “We made a pact. When she joined, we agre-“

“Kriff the pact.” Crosshair spits, cutting Hunter off. “She’s not going home with him. He doesn’t know shit about her.” He presses his palms to the table as he leans down, the booth tucked away enough that no one can hear their conversation.

The boys fall silent, each remembering the first and only time you'd gone home with a stranger. Shore leave was hard to come by, and you spent most of it with them, but you’d been up at the bar, chatting away with the barman, when you’d been approached. Hunter could still remember hearing the guy flirt with you; Wrecker could remember how he’d reached out to touch your arm. He’d bought you a cocktail you hated but had politely drank, Crosshair had noted, and you’d chatted for a little while. Then you’d disappeared with him, Tech’s datapad pinging a few minutes after you’d left with a message not to wait up for you.

And in the morning, you’d come back to the Marauder smelling of that stranger, with a small hickey on your throat that you’d tried desperately to conceal. It had nearly killed them.

“And what happens if she doesn’t want us, or only wants one of us? Could you handle that if it’s not you?” Hunter sighs as he leans back in his seat. This wasn’t a new debate – they often bickered about it – but it had never been this charged.

Fear and jealousy rage inside of Crosshair. He didn’t want to think about that. You were theirs, and you wanted them just as much they wanted you. It was a fact.

“I-I don’t want her to go home with anyone else either.” Wrecker finally pipes up, looking awkwardly between his brothers and you. You’re still dancing with the stranger, laughing at something he’d said, eyes closed as you grind back against him. Wrecker feels an odd coil of anger in his gut that someone else has their hands on you. It’s a new feeling for him, and he doesn’t like it.

“All in favour of dissolving Pact 52.” Crosshair throws down the mantle, glancing between his brothers. He was tired of holding back.

Tech lifts his hand a little in agreement, Wrecker following suit. But for it to be dissolved, there had to be complete consensus.

All eyes turn to Hunter, who’s staring at Crosshair like he’s gone crazy. His youngest brother could sometimes be stubborn and hard-headed, but he’d never called for a pact dissolution before. Tearing his eyes away, Hunter watches for a second as you dance with the stranger, taking in the way his hands are starting to creep down your body, how close his lips are to your neck. Fire rushes through his veins. “Go and get our girl.” He growls out his agreement, eyes swinging back to his brothers.

Crosshair smirks in satisfaction, standing back up to full height. Dropping his toothpick onto the table, he’s on the move again, slinking through the crowd in your direction. Tech follows hot on his twins' heels, tucking his datapad back into its pouch on his belt.

Hunter sighs, watching them go, not entirely sure whether he’s just agreed to the self-destruction of his squad or the best thing to ever happen to them. All he knows is that he and his brothers are selfish and don’t want to share you with anyone else. He turns his focus to Wrecker, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“They can break the ice. If it don’t work and she don’t want us, we can blame them.” Wrecker explains with a grin. He wants so desperately to go to you, to put himself between you and the stranger, to feel your body pressed against his. But he also doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he’ll sit back for now and let his younger brothers do all the leg work.

Hunter chuckles. Taking a sip of his drink, his dark eyes watch as Crosshair and Tech reach you.

Lost in the music, you don’t realise the boys have approached until the man behind you – Trent, you think he’d said his name was – stiffens. “Hey buddy, do you mind?” You hear him bark over the song, your eyes flying open as your hips stop moving, finding Crosshair and Tech next to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“No,” Crosshair answers, his fingers tightly wrapped around the man's wrist, prying it from your body. “Scram.” He demands.

The warmth of Trent’s hand disappears from your waist, and your confusion only increases as Tech reaches for you, gently drawing you closer to them and away from Trent.

“Hey, take your hands off her.” Trent has no idea what’s happening but tries to break free from Crosshair’s grip, worried for your safety as you’re pulled away.

“I know them, it’s okay.” You find your voice, raising a hand in a placating gesture. Trent stares at you for a beat, before his green eyes flick to Tech and Crosshair.

“Scram,” Crosshair repeats, low and deadly, as Trent meets his gaze.

Trent swallows. “Eh not worth it anyway.” He frowned toward the three of you, shaking his wrist free before stumbling back into the crowd and turning tail.

Trent’s words sting a little, but before that sting can settle, deft fingers hook under your chin and tilt your head, and your focus is pulled to Tech. “You look so lovely, darling.” He coos over the music, those soft brown eyes of his skating across your face and then down your body, chasing away Trent’s insult.

You blink a few times, brain pausing. Have you died on some remote planet somewhere and been teleported to a different dimension? Pet names weren’t uncommon – the boys had them for you, and you had them for them, but they were never affectionate. They were shortened forms of names and occasionally just a descriptor. And Tech was…flirting?

“This is new.” Crosshair’s voice slinks against your ear as one of his arms slides around your waist, and he presses against your back, right where Trent had been moments before. His free hand smoothes down the curve of your side, across the dress you’d treated yourself to and had delivered to the hotel. Life in armour had made you appreciate the rare chance to dress up.

Your confusion only doubles. “If you two don’t tell me the hell is going on, I will purposefully snap every toothpick between here and Kamino and put viruses on all our datapads.” You threaten.

Crosshair glances up, catching Tech’s gaze. They communicate silently, the strange phenomenon you’d witnessed a handful of times over the last year.

“Will you join us back at the table, please, darling? There is something we wish to talk to you about.” Tech finally answers your question.

Curious, you nod, letting them lead you back across the dance floor to the booth. Crosshair slides in first, Tech’s hand on your back guiding you in next, and then he sits, keeping you safe between them. “Is something wrong?” You ask, now more worried than confused as you look between all four brothers.

“No, cyar’ika,” Hunter answers, the smokiness of his voice making the new pet name sound sinful, and you blink a little quickly at it, unable to control the strange thud of your heart.

Silence sits with the five of you for a moment, the four men communicating with glances before Hunter leans in a little. “Were you planning on going home with him?” He asks, genuinely curious.

The question stuns you, and a small flare of annoyance erupts in your chest. “That’s none of your business.” You answer calmly.

Hunter gives a slight nod of his head, conceding the point. Taking a deep breath, he leans back in his seat and rethinks his approach. “It suits you.” He comments, unable to stop his gaze from dropping, from taking in how breathtaking you look in that little dress.

Heat rises in your cheeks. Another compliment on your appearance. You weren’t used to this – usually, you only received them for your work, for a mission well done. “T-Thank you.” You stammer out.

Satisfaction crosses Hunter’s face. “You’re important to us, you know that, right?” He asks, wanting to ensure that as this conversation progresses, you know they’re not just after frivolous fun.

Brows drawing downward, you nod. Under the table, you feel Crosshair’s slender fingers turn your hand over, the pads of his fingers gliding over the ink he’d etched into your skin. On your other side, you feel Tech lifting a hand, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of your hair – fallen loose while dancing – behind your ear.

If Crosshair’s touch had given you a rough idea of where this was going, Tech’s actions took it to a new level. It was as subtle as a Rancor in a den of antiquities. A strange sensation settles in your stomach, growing as you glance at Hunter again. The look in his eyes confirms your suspicions, and you swallow thickly.

They want you.

After a year of pining for them, resigning yourself to the friend zone, they want you. A million thoughts and questions rush through your mind, none of them sticking or answered. But if they want you, then there's something you need to say.

“No.” You state, catching the way Crosshair’s fingers pause, all four sets of brown eyes staring at you as you glance around the booth. For a moment, you can’t believe you have these incredible men wrapped around your little finger, hanging on your every word. “I wasn’t going to go home with him.” You clarify, eyes swinging back to Hunter, though you don’t miss the way all four brothers quietly let out the breaths they’d been holding. “Wasn’t my type anyway.” You tack on as your eyes betray you and dip for a nanosecond down to Hunter’s lips.

What would it be like to kiss him? Or Wrecker? Tech? Crosshair?

The fingers around your wrist tighten, and you glance down to watch the action, missing the look that Crosshair and Tech share across you. The air seems to vibrate with unspoken words.

Tech broke the silence, leaning in, his voice a soft caress. “That is excellent news, darling.”

Tilting your head, you glanced his way, taking in all the details you adored – the sharp angles of his jawline and nose, expressive brown eyes, and lips that looked oh-so-soft.

A light bump against your foot pulls your attention away from the genius, eyes darting to where a large boot is pressed against the side of your heels. Eyes drifting up, Wrecker offers you a fond smile as you meet his gaze. Heart hammering, you know you can’t keep them waiting.

Crosshair’s fingers are now skirting around your wrist, drawing lazy patterns as Tech rests a hand under the table against your thigh, fingers splayed and curling around you – steady and comforting.

“It’s your choice, cyar’ika.” Hunter captures your attention, understanding this is a pivotal moment for you all and could change everything. He decides to lay their cards on the table. “We’d like you to be ours. But we understand that’s a lot to ask. We’ve shared everything in life except a woman. You’re the first we want, so there might be bumps along the way – nothing we can’t work through.” He notes. “The feelings aren’t new, either. It’s…well…we’ve wanted you since you joined us.”

All this time, they’ve wanted you, and you’ve wanted them. All this time, you could’ve been... “Then why now?” You question.

“It hurt, thinkin’ you’d be going home with that guy,” Wrecker answers before the others could, a large hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “And it’s gettin’ real hard to keep pretending.” He shrugs, hand falling from his neck. “But we’ll keep doin’ it if this ain’t what you want. You’re our priority.” Wrecker is hasty to add.

You’d never been someone’s priority before, and it comforted you knowing they’d immediately back off if you said the word. You reach across the table with your free hand, sliding it into Wrecker’s to link your fingers with his. Holding the big man's gaze, you give a small nod. “I want this.” You decide. “All of you.” You clarify, glancing around at the four brothers, watching as delight and surprise crosses their faces. “The feeling isn’t new, either.” You mimic Hunter’s words as a year’s worth of weight lifts off your chest. You know there’s a lot more to discuss and many things to work out to keep things fair, but making your intentions clear is a good start.

Crosshair’s grip around your wrist tightens, and you turn your head towards him. Longing and desire swirl in his hawkish gaze.

You only have a moment to commit his expression to memory before you feel the soft brush of his lips against your own, like the fragile wings of a butterfly alighting on a delicate flower. It was barely there, an exploration of the unknown, but it ignited a spark that threatened to consume you both. Eyes closing, you surrendered to the moment, and your lips met again, this time with more urgency and hunger as the bar's sounds faded.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Wrecker protested, scowling at his youngest brother.

Hunter held out a hand, silencing him. Dark eyes focused on your face, and then on the way your shoulders dropped as you relaxed into the kiss, how your chest rose and fell a little quicker with each breath, and the gorgeous curve of your throat as Crosshair used his free hand to tilt your chin for a better angle to deepen the kiss. Senses tuning in on you, Hunter picked up on your rapid heartbeat. His nostrils flared, your sweet scent coming into focus even under the layers of other smells from the bar. With every second the kiss continued, your scent became sharper.

Catching Tech and Wrecker’s eyes, Hunter tipped his head toward the rest of the bar. The three brothers pushed out of the booth in sync, leaving you in Crosshair’s capable hands while they grabbed your jacket from the coatroom, flagged down a taxi, and settled the tab at the bar.

Lips still pressed to Crosshair’s, you gasp at the feeling of a warm hand on your back, reluctantly pulling away and opening your eyes, turning to see who’s touching you. Your gaze lands on Tech just as Crosshair’s lips find purchase on your jaw, trailing down your throat. A whine of pleasure slides out before you can stop it, and you watch as Tech swallows thickly at the noise, offering out a hand to you.

Shakily, you take it, enjoying the contact as your heart races, every nerve alight as you’re guided out of the booth, and you hear Crosshair grumble as he slides out after you.

“You only got away with that because you are the youngest.” Tech chides him, though the bite to his words is lacking. If anything, he’s jealous his brother took the opportunity before he could. In return, Crosshair offers him a trademark smirk, placing a fresh toothpick between his lips, not at all remorseful.

The two of them escort you through the club – Tech leading you by the hand with Crosshair bringing up the rear, the warmth of the sniper's hand pressed against your lower back.

As you step out into the city, your jacket is placed across your shoulders before you can feel a pinch of chill, strong hands guiding you towards a taxi Wrecker had flagged down, the gentle giant holding the door open for you.

The five of you cram in. Hunter is pressed to your right, Wrecker to your left, while Crosshair and Tech take opposite seats. A tanned, tattooed hand lands on your right thigh as the taxi pulls away and into the night sky, deceptively soft fingers drawing slowly up to the hem of your dress, the red fabric pushed aside oh so gently as those same fingers curl around your body and hold on to you.

You’re so caught up watching Hunter’s hand roam across your body that you’re startled ever so slightly as Wrecker’s large paw starts doing the same to your left thigh. A low chuckle from Tech has your eyes flicking across the dimly lit cabin, catching the wisps of amusement and desire on his face.

“That little heart of yours is racing, mesh’la.” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice ghosts against your ear as he leans closer, making you feel like you’re about to combust. You have no idea how this will work or how the night will end. What you know is that you trust them implicitly and can’t wait to have your hands on them.

#the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #tbb x you #tbb x reader #bad batch x you #tbb tech x you #tbb tech x reader #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #tbb wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #friends to lovers #mutual pining #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #reverse harem

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formulapookie · 3 months ago

Text

wooo

Looking for perdition rosquez, 9.1k words

smut under the cut, here to read on Ao3

Marc can feel his ears ringing on the podium, the people cheering for him, the smell of prosecco in the air, Valentino.

He’s there with him, spraying him with that bottle, drenching him like he’s a fucking grid girl.

God he wishes he was one, that way Vale would act on the obvious tension that sparkled between them, without backing up every time they got close to it.

Just the thought of Valentino taking him apart made his nights, when he was alone in his room, hard in his pants and imagining it was Vale opening him up instead of himself, that it was Vale fucking into him with a brutal pace and not that dildo he always had with him because the older didn’t gave into his flirting.

He’s hard in his leathers now, Vale is so close he can feel his breath on his neck, he wants to kiss him and make him feel so good he will never forget him.

At first he thought it was wrong, to thirst for a man 14 years older than him, it was sinful and dirty.

But he sees the eyes with which Vale looks back at him.

They’re full of the same lust and deep desire as his, burning with the need to have the other right then and there.

But as much as Marc tries, and he does try a lot, Vale always puts a stop to it before anything goes over the phantom line the italian traced already last year, when Marc went up to him after winning his championship and asked him for a gift for winning, and Vale told him “you’re too young bimbo, come back once you’ve grown” and he felt so insulted back then, he was offering himself to Vale and he refused.

He ended up sharing the night with more than a random guy at the bar he went to, they left him covered by marks and limping, the day after Vale had fire in his eyes, Marc knew jealousy when he saw it, and Vale was fucking drowning in it.

Good.

It just made him try harder and harder every time he had the chance.

And right now he can feel that stare again, it’s burning a hole in the back of his neck, he’s talking to Lorenzo now, and he knows the other man looks at him with need too, not like Vale, no one could, but it gets Vale riled up and he lives for it.

So he steps closer to Lorenzo, asking him something more about his move to overtake Vale, looking at him with great interest as his countryman explained the way he used the brakes a certain way to keep Vale out his racing line.

Vale is pissed off, to say the least.

What kind of business does Lorenzo have to be talking that close to Marc?

He doesn’t need to be standing a few centimeters only from the boy’s face, he can still talk about his totally not great move by standing further than that.

“They’re calling for us to go back, we can't stay on the podium forever” Vale grits his teeth, he doesn’t like the feeling of jealousy gnawing at his stomach, it’s consuming and it gets him unfocused.

Once they’re out the public’s eye Lorenzo goes away, he’s being called by his race engineer, leaving him and Marc alone.

Marc.

Probably the most beautiful and talented guy he’s ever seen in the sport, he looks perfect, even right now, after being drenched in Prosecco and tired from the race.

Actually, right now the boy looks better than in any other moment he’s seen him, because it was him to cover him in alcohol, it was his way of claiming him.

He knows he shouldn’t be having certain thoughts, that’s a kid he’s looking at, he’s barely 21, he can’t want him.

But his eyes betray him, they follow Marc’s movements, the way he goes to unzip his leathers very slowly and pool them to his hips, a black sleeveless undersuit leaving his arms and collarbone completely out in the open.

And Vale can’t fucking believe his eyes.

There’s marks all over his collarbone, one so high it could’ve been seen peaking also from the leathers.

If he squeezes his eyes enough he can see the faint line of a handprint on the boy’s hips through the undersuit, not to mention the hickey on his pec, standing proud right there, eye level.

Marc is clearly doing it to catch his attention, he’s smirking, his little cat smile that gets Vale every time.

They’ve been playing this little flirting game since last year, when he refused to fuck Marc after he won the championship. He would’ve lied if he said that as soon as the boy left he didn’t run to his bed to push his hand into his boxers and start touching himself at the thought of having Marc with him for a night, imagining it was his mouth around his dick, not his hand.

“We’re going partying tonight Vale, you coming with us?”

“Eh I’m a bit old Marc, i don’t know”

“Come onnnnn I am inviting you, we’re celebrating my win, it'll be fun!

“I don’t know Marc I should probably sleep and recover for next race”

“Please? I promise you’ll have fun, there’s plenty of drinks, Honda’s offering”

Vale sighs, he knows he won’t refuse, he also knows that once he’s in the club Marc is gonna glue himself to his giving him barely space to breathe and he’ll have to control his instincts all night long not to act like a fucking animal.

“Fine”

Marc smiles, cheeks tinted of a soft pink that makes Vale’s head spiral.

God he didn’t even do something remotely arousing and he was already feeling the need to kiss him until they ran out of breath.

“See you tonight then, bye Vale” he turns around to go away, then turns back towards the man “wear something cute, I like the black shirt you put on last time, it…enhances you”

Marc smirks again, this time walking away, still smiling and biting his lower lip at the idea of seeing Vale that night.

He knows he’s going overboard with the flirting but that’s Valentino Rossi he’s got charmed, it’s not everyday that man has someone get this kind of power over him.

He wants Vale to crumble, to give in to his teasing because he can’t keep faking that the men he fucks with are Valentino, he can’t keep waking up at 4am bricked up and having to take care of himself thinking of Vale whispering in his ears how good he’s being or how much of a slut he is for touching himself when he knows his teammate is asleep in the room next to his and the walls are so thin you could hear a fly in the other room.

He needs to have Vale, the real one, inside him, needs to suck him off and have him forget anyone else ever did it, wants to feel those beautiful hands around his throat, squeezing that much to get him light headed, wants to feel his mouth on his neck and his own, his own hands in the man’s curls, tugging at them as they make out.

He also needs to get to his shower quickly, because he’s hard as a rock and can’t keep walking around like that.

On the other hand Vale is not doing much better, he looked at Marc’s ass as he walked away, he noticed the twinkle of pride in his eyes when he accepted the invite.

God what kind of situation has he gotten himself into?

He needs a shower too, to calm himself down and get himself together before the party.

He’s going to have to restrain himself all night long, and it's going to be difficult, because even if he tried to divert his attention from the kid he knows he’d end up looking at him dance and flirt with other men and get jealous, because even if he never touched the boy he’s his nonetheless, it’s him Marc goes to look for in the crowd, him Marc teases to the point of no return, it’s him Marc wants.

Vale gets to the hotel as quickly as humanly possible, the only thing in his mind still the boy from Cervera, it’s an obsession at this point he thinks, every and each thought is contaminated by Marc.

As he showers he tries to keep it at bay, but the smell of Prosecco on Marc’s skin is something one doesn’t forget too easily, and he finds himself gripping at the tiles of the shower as he comes, thinking of how beautiful Marc would look if he stood on his knees beneath him, his release painting his face.

He comes out of the shower with guilt and a towel covering him, his phone dings and the reminder for his dinner comes through.

He decides he doesn’t want to eat with the others and orders some food in his room, while he looks for the shirt Marc asked him to wear.

It could be embarrassing if it wasn’t extremely arousing too.

Marc on the other hand is shifting in his seat already, he went out to eat with his crew, they were all already a bit tipsy, but he was drunk on adrenaline and the idea of seeing Vale at the club.

He wanted to break the fragile glass that stood between them tonight, he was set on doing it, whatever the cost may be.

He didn’t even care about dignity in asking Vale to rail him honestly, he just wanted wanted wanted.

Eager, someone could’ve called him, but was he to blame? He has the chance to have Vale for himself and he isn’t one to back up from a challenge.

The dinner ended later than he would have liked it to, he still has to go back to the hotel and change into something a bit more club-suited, as well as having another shower and using that cologne he bought just two weeks ago.

He’s running to his room once they’re back, his crew laughing at him because all they can see is a kid excited to go to the club to get drunk and party.

He’s quick as a lightning, showers, shaves, puts products and combs his hair, chooses a fucking new pair of boxers to put on, grabs the clean and fresh clothes from the cupboard and sprays a bit (a lot) of cologne on his neck and collarbone.

He looks at himself in the mirror, he looks good, he’s a bit tipsy from the dinner and the more than few sips of prosecco he’s had before and he’s out the door.

They’re not in the same hotel, so there’s no chance they’re gonna cross paths, but Dovi is.

He can see the other man in the hall, dressed for a night out, and comes up to him to greet him.

Dovi is pleased to see Marc, he always is, he compliments him too, and Marc blushes a bit, because after all Dovi is hot, there’s no denying it, and receiving a compliment from an older hot man does it for Marc.

They go to the club together, it's only a ten minute walk and they talk about the race, while Marc triumphed Dovi only came 7th but it wasn’t a disaster all things considered.

When they arrive at the club and enter Dovi is practically kidnapped by his crew and waves at Marc, who barely acknowledges the gesture.

His brain is in radar mode, looking for the one person he truly wants to see.

And it doesn’t get long to meet that pair of blue eyes that haunt his dreams.

They’re staring at him, a light veil of jealousy still covering them, probably he saw him come in with Dovi.

He smiles at the man, who nods in response, leaning against a wall in the other corner of the neon filled club.

Marc goes for a drink, and Vale is quick to join him, ordering something with whisky probably. Ew.

He’s still a kid, he gets a neutral VodkaRedbull and waits for it.

“You wore the shirt I suggested you” he’s smiling, a wicked sense of pride in his chest.

“It’s the only good one I have bimbo, don’t flatter yourself too much” but he’s smirking too, they both know he wore it just because Marc asked him to.

Their drinks arrive, and they’re both quick to down them.

It’s around 2 in the morning, the club is beginning to be packed, and Marc wants to dance. So he grabs Valentino’s hand and guides him through the crowd, finding a spot fairly near a wall but still a bit distant.

He begins to move and it’s hypnotic almost, the naturalness with which he moves his body, he’s flexible, Vale knows, he’s seen videos of him at the physio, guilt eating him whole as he felt envious of the man’s hand massaging the boy’s thighs.

He’s close, too close Vale thinks, it’s already dangerous, he can feel his mind telling him to ignore the age gap and take him to the nearest secluded space and fuck him until morning.

And he wants to listen but he also doesn’t want to give in to his instincts, he wants to control himself, but he wants Marc.

Marc who is shamelessly pushing him more and more towards the wall, the club is dark enough people won’t notice, red and blue lights creating an inviting atmosphere.

“Marc. Marc calm down, come on” he’s biting at his lip, he needs to direct his blood flow anywhere but his dick, and it’s very difficult, especially when Marc is looking up at him with those eyes.

Marc’s breath becomes heavier, he’s got his lips parted and his cheeks tinted of that beautiful pink again.

He knows he looks good, his fingers dance on the buttons of Vale’s shirt, feeling the goosebumps on his skin, he wants to press himself even more on the other.

And he does, positioning himself so that one of Vale’s legs is between his, and Vale closes his eyes, inhaling a deep breath from the nose and releasing it through his mouth, a hand going to cover his mouth, eyes flying open again.

It’s desperation.

“Why won’t you touch me Valeee?” it’s slurred, but somehow firm. Marc still has his hand on the man’s pec, he’s standing a bit on his tips, face leveled with his chest, hot breath on it.

“You’re a kid Marc, I’ve got tattoos older than your career, it’s not right” God it’s arousing. Vale is trying so hard not to grab him and have him suck him off in front of all these people, but it really is a hard task with the way Marc looks at him.

“But you want me Vale, I can see it. And I can feel it right now. You want me as much as I want you. I need you to fuck me Vale please” and Marc now has lost every last drop of dignity, he’s basically dry humping Valentino’s leg, small sounds leaving his lips, a hand pressed lightly against Vale’s now painfully obvious bulge.

The lust in both their eyes is undeniable, tension so thick it’s dangerous, Vale can feel the fragile glass barrier he built shake and crack before his eyes.

“Marc I am trying not to grab you and fuck you in front of everyone don’t make this more difficult” and Marc is fucking smirking now, he has Vale where he wants him, admitting to his needs, voicing them.

It would be so hot if Vale actually did what he said to be dreaming. Have him before everyone, so that they knew he was his, no one else wanted, no one else needed.

”But whyy I like you you like me we can fuck, I’m 21 not 17. Please Vale just take me” he’s desperate too now, whining, he wants Vale to finally get it’s ok, he doesn’t need to be his age to fuck him, and Marc is mature enough to handle it. He’s pressing himself even closer to Vale, it’s already intoxicating.

“Marc. You’re 21, I’m 35 it’s…it’s not…I can’t- you should look for someone your age for this kind of fun, I’m too old for you bimbo” Vale is hard in his pants but tries to ignore it, he would feel like he’s corrupting Marc by giving in, while Marc knows he still has one move he can use.

What he’s about to do is subtle, cruel and immoral, but he doesn’t care.

Whatever the cost he said, he must have Vale.

“Mh. Well if you won’t do it I’m sure Dovi or Cal or anyone else in this room will take me, they all want a piece of me and I can’t deny them that, have fun with yourself later Vale”

That’s what does it for Vale. What gets him going, fired up, as if he just got a shot of adrenaline and has to run a marathon.

Marc daring to compare him to others, stating he can have them all because they all want him, which is true, but it’s also infuriating.

Marc is HIS.

He finally lets go of the last rational thought holding him back and his hand moves faster than his words.

He grabs Marc by the wrist, doesn’t even speak, and drags him in a dark and mostly solitary corner of the club, secluded from people’s gazes, his vision blurred from excitement and need.

He pushes Marc against a wall, and he makes a soft sound at the contact, then Vale finally kisses him.

Hungry, wanting, needy, desperate.

Marc tastes like fucking Redbull and something so peculiar it can only be Marc himself.

Vale has his hand on the boy’s hips. Possessive, demanding, burning, gluing him to the wall, a leg pressed against Marc’s bulge, mouth hot and eager messing with his.

Marc is barely registering what’s happening, he can feel Vale’s hands on him, fucking finally, if that’s a dream he never wants to wake up, he can feel electricity sparkling between their bodies, the huger from Vale translating in the roughess of his kiss, Marc’s hand going for Vale’s curls, pulling him even closer.

Marc moves slightly and his dick brushes against Vale’s thigh, making him moan in the kiss, the grip on his hips strengthening.

“Vale” Marc already sounds desperate, his voice is trembling, a wet spot has appeared on the front of his jeans, where Vale’s thigh was.

He looks shining, like he did when he won the championship last year and like he looked earlier today on the top step of the podium.

Vale takes in the sight, snapping a mental picture of this moment.

“Come with me” and Marc doesn’t need to be told twice, he follows the older man through the crowd, past the bar and ignores the stare coming from Dovi, blushing at the idea that he knows.

A part of Vale’s mind, probably the sane one, still yells it’s wrong, still sees Marc as a kid, still wants him to stop. But he shuts it up, Marc is glowing, his eyes are shiny and look like he’s been crying, he’s perfect.

Vale leads him to a bathroom a bit further than the others, and almost doesn’t give him any time to think, he’s already on him again.

It’s as needy and hot as the first time, but now his hands are one in his hair and the other squeezing his ass, while slowly guiding him to a stall.

“Fuck…Marc you are beautiful” Vale closes the door of the stall they ended up in and goes to attack Marc’s neck, biting a little at the flesh and licking his Adam’s apple.

Marc is set on having the upper hand at least for one moment during this and finding some strength he pushes Vale onto the other wall of the stall, who’s got a surprised face, especially when Marc goes to unbutton his shirt to place hungry and wet kisses all over the man’s chest.

He slowly goes lower and lower, Vale’s shirt now completely unbuttoned and whole torso on display. “You’re gonna suck me off here Marc? Get on your knees for me and make me feel good?” Vale strokes the boy’s hair as he speaks, and Marc moans, he’s finally on his knees, where he so shamelessly wanted to be for the past year basically.

He goes to unbuckle his pants but Vale is quicker, a rapid movement and they’re already pooled at his ankles. Marc goes for the boxers and finally takes them off, Vale’s dick standing in front of him.

Marc wastes no time in getting his mouth on it, lips slightly stretched and red cheeks making a beautiful picture.

“Mh fuck Marc you already feel so good, can’t believe I waited so much to have you” Vale’s hand goes to tangle itself in Marc’s hair, but he doesn’t take control, just stays there, he just needs to touch him.

As soon as Marc begins to bob his head it’s heaven for Vale.

It’s even better than what he imagined, it’s as if Marc is made to do it, hollowing his cheeks at the right moment, his tongue playing with his head, his dick sliding in and out so smoothly Vale thinks he’s dreaming.

And Marc is loving it, the control he has now over Vale, he’s the one dictating the pace and the intensity, and it gets him even more aroused, one of his hands pressed against his crotch, giving him a bit of pleasure, but none close to the one he wants to feel from Vale.

Marc keeps on sucking, obscene sounds coming from him as he gags on Vale’s dick a few times, feeling it hit the back of his throat, it’s like a spell, Marc can’t desire anything else from now on.

“Marc I’m gonna come cazzo you need to-” but this time it’s Marc that doesn’t give him time to think, as he’s already coming hard down the boy’s throat.

Marc lets go of Vale’s dick, a thin string of saliva still connecting it to his lips. “Was I good Vale?” god that kid needed approval for this too, it made Vale feel dizzy, it was the best head he ever received, the need of validation Marc has is a powerful knowledge to him.

“You were amazing bimbo, now get up and turn around you deserve a lot more tonight”

Marc smiles, he’s hard in his pants, embarrassingly a lot, but obeys to Vale’s commands.

He feels Vale’s hands going to unzip his jeans, slowly dragging them down his legs, a groan coming from the older man when he notices his smooth skin.

He took the lube he kept in his pants out already, passing it to Vale with trembling fingers, as if he is afraid to break it.

When Vale finally coats his fingers with it and pushes in the first one he meets no resistance, Marc going red as a neon light out in the club, he can feel Vale smirking.

“Did you prep yourself before coming out tonight tesoro? Not really a good boy then mh? Couldn’t even wait for me to take care of you properly”

Marc whines, he can feel Vale starting to get hard again against his back.

“No no I wanted to be good, wanted to be ready to take you Vale, I ah fuck want to be good for you”

As he is speaking Vale pushes a second finger in, this time it’s met with more resistance, Vale’s fingers were slimmer and longer, even if Marc tried he couldn’t touch where Vale is reaching right now, ghosting over his prostate like a punishment.

“You teased me all night Marc, all year actually, because you just can’t keep calm can you? You need to get fucked so good you finally shut up. I could tell you not to come until I give you permission and you would obey right?” Marc nods, legs trembling as Vale’s breath becomes hotter against the base of his neck, his fingers scissoring him slowly.

“You also said you could go to other men and have them satisfy you…not good Marc not good, you really believe they could make you feel like I can?”

Marc is already crumbling under Vale’s touch and teasing, his words adding gasoline to the fire that burns in his body. “Answer pretty boy, or you’re not getting anything” he knows that’s a straight up lie, now that he got a small hint at what Marc is he can’t let go, but playing with the boy’s mind is too funny not to do, seeing how desperate he can get for him makes him feel powerful.

And it’s sick yes, but no one could have the willpower to resist Marc if he looks like that.

“No Vale no one, I want you, always wanted you, I need you now please I won’t say that again”

His voice breaks, god he knows he sounds pathetic, but it gets Vale going, small hungry kisses on the back of his neck as he scissors his hole more and more, stretching him more than he himself usually does, making him whimper more than moan, and Vale loves those little sounds coming from his throat.

“Mh you make such pretty sounds Marc, wonder if they can hear us right now, maybe they’re listening because you’re so hot they can’t resist.

Maybe your friend from before is right there, wishing it was him and not me here with you”

It makes Marc blush even more if possible, the recurring and present idea of having someone know, or hear them.

“Would you like for them to hear tesoro? To listen to you while I fuck you in here?”

It’s shameless how Marc whines at the words, Vale’s fingers still too slow inside him.

“They can’t hear anything if you don’t get on with it Vale, you want them to know you’re the one fucking me than actually do it and make me scream your name”

Vale has to take a second to process Marc’s shift in attitude.

God that’s hot. He really has no shame whatsoever, he wants it, he gets it.

“You've got a filthy mouth for someone who came after me like a desperate slut for a year” Vale adds a third finger, drawing a hot and long moan from Marc, whose hands are planted against the stall’s wall for stability.

“Don’t worry tesoro they are gonna hear you”

and he’s quick in exchanging his fingers brushing against his prostate with his cock, making Marc’s knees almost give up at holding him up at the sudden change.

“Vale God you- you stretch me so good” Marc’s gripping at the wall for dear life now, he can feel Vale getting hard inside him and oh God it’s the most fulfilling sensation he’s ever felt.

Vale bottoms out, then turns him around, pulling a leg around his waist and pushes back in, he wants to see his face, needs to feast at the desperation and need the other feels for him.

Marc looks absolutely beautiful right now: watery eyes, red cheeks, pink puffy lips on display.

Vale has to kiss him, there’s no other possibility.

So he does, hungry and hot, not interrupting his thrusts once while doing so, having Marc moan in his mouth, little whimpers escaping his throat and getting the older fueled.

Marc's knees are wobbly and they both know he isn’t gonna be able to stand in a matter of minutes, so Vale just goes to grab his ass and picks him up, Marc whines, arms thrown around Vale’s neck and his legs holding onto his hips.

He’s somewhat gently pushed against the stall wall, Vale starting to move again, Marc feeling the harsh contact of skin on skin and the pants coming from Vale’s mouth in his ear.

He starts feeling drunk with it, Vale’s cock fully hard inside him, still stretching him a bit, pain and pleasure meeting to get him absolutely fucked.

And now Marc is loud, moaning, whimpering, chanting Vale’s name and asking him for more, more, more.

Vale’s eyes are fixated on the marks the boy has been left with by someone else, and the rush of possessiveness makes him almost light headed.

He starts to kiss Marc’s jaw, then his neck and collarbone, still never stopping fucking him

“I don’t like these marks on you bimbo, these are not mine.” He speaks as he mouths at the sensitive skin on Marc’s nipples, ghosting a breath over them. “And I need you to be marked by me only, you get it right? I am not gonna share you, I am very possessive of what’s mine”

Marc whimpers, he can feel he’s getting close, and Vale saying those things just makes him weaker, he wants, needs Vale to mark him, wants to feel his teeth on his flesh like a signature.

And Vale does it, biting down on his collarbone, still holding him against the wall while fucking into him, Marc’s hand tugging at his curls.

He moves up his neck, sucking deep purple marks on it, then getting to his jaw, kissing it with hunger.

His thrusts begin to be more erratic, Marc immediately gets it, so he slowly untangles his legs from Vale’s hips, who flips him once again, facing his back, Marc’s asscheeks red from the grip he held until now, a fucking hell of a sight.

Vale wastes no time in fucking into him again, moaning at the tightening sensation of Marc around his dick.

His hands move to the boy’s nipples, twisting them lightly, but to Marc is more than enough, he knows he’s sensitive there, he has tears in his eyes from pleasure.

“Vale Vale Vale I’m- if you keep like this I’m gonna cum” it’s forced out, he can’t really think anymore, he can just feel Vale’s hands roaming his body, a smirk forming on his face.

“You’re so sensitive here amore, you’re blushing all over” but it’s not enough for Vale, he wants to have Marc’s full devotion, he wants to be the only one in his mind.

His left hand travels to Marc’s dick, stroking it a few times, his right one goes up, up, up until it meets his throat, closing on it tentatively, lightly, barely doing anything.

But the block of the oxygen gets Marc over the edge, he comes rapidly, a loud moan echoing in Vale’s ears and the whole bathroom, fuck if someone is truly there they have for sure heard.

And it leaves Vale mesmerized by how Marc can melt under him, how a hand around his throat can be enough to satisfy him.

It’s arousing, so much he doesn’t last long either, with his hand still around Marc’s throat and his dick Vale tries to pull out, to at least have the decency to not cum inside, but Marc realizes, and turns his head so quick it could break, Vale’s fingers brushing at his throat.

“No Vale please come inside I-I need you to I want to feel you inside me” and Vale is a weak man for this, for him, and complies, coming with a deep moan inside Marc, feeling him clench against his dick, soft whimpers coming from the younger.

Vale slips out, his cum slowly dripping from Marc’s hole down his legs, making him feel dirty, but so so aroused.

He turns Marc around again for the like fifth time this night, and kisses him hungrily, his fingers playing a bit with the boy’s oversensitive nipples.

They keep on making out sloppy, until none of them has oxygen left, then they just keep still, their foreheads pressed against each other, panting like they just ran a marathon, eyes glued together, in a moment where only the two of them exist, the post-fuck haze where both can feel the presence of the other.

“I need you now Vale, need you so badly please” it comes out as a whimper almost, Marc’s voice cracking under the continued overstimulation Vale is keeping him under, and Vale smirks, goes to place a light kiss on his neck, so gentle it’s barely there.

“Was me fucking you in this stall not enough baby? You need more? So eager let me take care of you” he whispers all this so close to Marc’s ear he thinks he could catch on fire, Marc blushes even more than before, a little whine escaping his mouth as he tries to answer while Vale still has his fingers playing with his nipples.

“please let’s get to my room Vale I need to - please”

and he’s just too cute like that, desperate eyes, wet puffy lips and those cheeks tinted of a red so deep they look artificial.

“Sure baby let’s go”

They make quick work of dressing themselves, trying to look at least presentable in other people’s eyes.

Marc’s jeans still have a stain on the front, and for how much he can try to find excuses it’s too obvious what that is.

Luckly the club is dark enough people shouldn’t notice the state they both are in, but before they can even make it out the bathroom completely they cross paths with a certain italian man.

Vale and Dovi have a five-second long staring contest, where Dovi loses quickly, mostly after seeing Vale’s pride shining in his eyes, the way his fingers are tangled with Marc’s.

But most of all the blissful look on the boy’s face, not to mention the unholy amount of hickeys littering his neck.

Marc snuggles himself more into Vale’s arms as the older pulls him closer.

Dovi has no business even staring at Marc now, Vale arrived first, and Vale’s known to be pretty possessive of what he gains.

Dovi looks away with a light blush on his cheeks, but Marc is quicker and waves at him smiling with his cat-like grin “Bye Dovii”.

Stronzetto.

Luckily Vale doesn’t hear Marc, he’s too busy dragging him out the club to care anyway, he needs to have him again like right now.

“How are we going back Vale?” and the man smirks, grabbing two helmets hung on his bike.

He brought two Marc thinks. He brought two helmets he knew I’d go with him. And it makes him blush as he secures it under his chin.

Vale hops on front, Marc behind him, arms tight around his body, fingers lightly teasing his abs.

“Behave” is the only word coming from Vale before he speeds off to the hotel Marc gives the address of.

They get there in a matter of minutes, Marc is sure they broke at least three speed limits on their way, but he doesn’t care, he can still feel Vale’s cum sticking shamelessly on his legs, the burn of a hickey on his neck, and he can’t wait to have more of it.

They climb down the bike and as soon as their helmets are put away Marc grabs Vale’s hand and starts to walk through the Hall towards the elevator.

Vale smirks at the boy’s eagerness, but as they enter the elevator and Marc is ready to throw himself at Vale they notice there’s already another person inside.

Vale pushes him in nonetheless, he wants to see how Marc acts when he’s this needy in front of other people.

The man barely acknowledges the two coming in, and Marc pushes the button for the 6th floor.

The ride until the fourth is already torture, he can’t get close to Vale, that guy is standing right in the middle of the elevator, waiting for his stupid floor.

Marc’s biting his lip, bouncing a bit on his tiptoes, picking at his nails.

He looks like he could throw the guy out if he doesn’t leave in the next two seconds.

The elevator dings, the guy is quick to go out, probably has some kind of business to attend.

The doors are not even closed all the way but Marc is already on Vale, hands pushing him against the elevator’s side and keeping him there, fingers tugging at his shirt as the two make out.

It’s a mess of teeth and saliva, and they barely feel the elevator stopping at their floor by how taken by each other they are right now.

“Your room Marc. Now” and Marc giggles, Vale wants it as bad as he does, and that makes him feel a little less pathetic.

Vale follows the boy blindly, not really taking in any of the surroundings, his eyes focused on Marc.

“Here here” Marc stops, taking his key out the back pocket, sliding it through the reader and waiting for the little dot to turn green.

It can’t do it faster, because as soon as it does Marc is pushed past the door, hears it getting shut and locked and then has Vale’s lips on his again. The same want from the club coming back, but this time they have a bed, and Marc desperately needs it if he wants to do what he’s been dreaming of since last year.

“Vale, take me to bed now please” and who is Vale to deny this perfect boy his wish?

He takes him by the hand, gently yes but still possessive, as if he thinks after tonight Marc could ever want someone else again.

Vale sits on the edge of the bed and Marc goes to settle on his lap, lips crashing again.

“Off everything off Marc I need to see you” it’s night but the moon is full tonight, shining through the window the boy left open for the breeze to come in and cool down the room a bit.

Marc obliges, taking off his shoes together with Vale and making half a show while taking off his shirt.

As soon as it hits the bed Vale’s lips and hands are on his nipples, biting and twisting them making Marc feel electricity all over his body “Vale if you ah if you keep like this I’ll cum God it’s so good”

It lights something up in Vale, the idea of having Marc come untouched by him just playing with his nipples.

He lets go briefly of them. moving Marc off his lap and onto the bed, not uttering a single word but making a deep sound when looking at how disheveled Marc already looks.

He goes to unzip Marc’s jeans, yanking them off a bit more harshly than he should, but at this point none of them cares about it.

He sits straight up, removing his shirt and jeans in like three seconds, then going to sit on the bed again, tapping his lap.

“Come sit here amore” and Marc is embarrassingly fast at following his orders.

Without the jeans forming a barrier but only briefs he can feel Vale’s hard cock against his much more than before, making him whine.

“You said you could cum from me playing with these alone? You really think you can do it?”

And this is how Marc finally dies. Sat on his God’s lap, almost naked, hard and with his cum still inside him.

“I- I yes I can” he stops, then goes all in “if you want me to”

Vale groans, throwing his head back against the headboard, a wicked smile painted on his face.

He starts to rub small circles on Marc’s hips, just above the waistband of his boxers, this id is going to be the death of him.

“I want you to Marc, I’m going to make sure you’ll never forget this” and he doesn’t give Marc the time to process the answer that he’s already mouthing at his right nipple, twisting the other between his fingers.

Vale’s tongue gets him light headed, it’s so good Marc could cry.

He whimpers and moans instead, his hands tangling themselves in Vale’s unruly curls, making him moan against his already overstimulated nipple.

“Vale Vale Vale” it’s the only thing he manages to half-moan half-say as he’s basically tortured by the man sitting beneath him.

Vale lets go of his right nipple, all red and swollen, and immediately gets to work on the other, while Marc whispers soft pleas above him.

He takes it between his teeth, torturing it a little, just to listen to the sounds it makes Marc do, and oh god would he record them and have them always ready for when he needs a quick release in his shower.

A louder moan comes from Marc, his hands tug at Vale’s hair a bit hared, and he’s so close it must hurt.

“Fuck you’re sensitive like a girl here Marc it’s crazy” and this is what has Marc definitely loose all the little dignity he has.

He lets out a high pitched moan as he cums in his briefs, staining them even more than before.

Vale smirks, working his way up Marc’s chest until he reaches his neck, sucking on it once more, just to be sure it stays there, then it’s Marc that kisses him and Vale can taste the lust on his tongue.

“Let me ride you Vale. I need to do it since last year I’ve been- been trying to get you here all night. Please just let me” it’s a mix of beg and resolution that gets Vale so aroused his head spins.

“Please be my guest Marc” and he’s so casual about it Marc wants to cry from happiness.

But his look transfixes to horror when Vale goes to open the drawer next to the bed.

He doesn’t need lube they just went before, he can’t can’t find it, not like that.

But he’s too weak and slow to stop Vale, who by opening the bedside drawer sees the only thing Marc could pretend was him all year long.

“Marc…you are a dirty dirty boy eh? You travel with a dildo to every race you go? Is it because I never fucked you before?”

And Marc wants to combust, disappear like a ghost, cause he’s too embarrassed of Vale finding out.

“Did you use it before tonight’s party amore? Is that why you were already stretched mh?”

God he has to stop, he's going to have him cum again by talking alone.

“Do you pretend it’s me when you’re alone in your room Marc? Do you say my name when you fuck yourself with it and wish it was me?”

Marc blushes again, even more this time, his cheeks matching the stark red of his red bull cap sat on a chair next to the bed.

“Answer me Marc come on I know you can do it”

no he can’t cause if he does he’s just going to sound pathetic, he doesn’t even know if he can speak right now.

But for Vale he tries, for Vale he would catch the moon so he tries “Yes yes I pretend it’s you because you always said I was too young but I needed you I wanted you I say your name every time I use it now please Vale let me ride you I- just please”

Vale seems happy with his answer, closes the drawer and looks at Marc with a smile, something burning in his eyes.

“If you weren’t this pretty and needy I’d have you fuck yourself with it in front of me, but you look too good and I want to feel you right now” Vale’s fingers go to hook on his waistband, and the motherfucker licks his lips like he wants to taste him.

“But don’t worry tesoro, next time you’re gonna do it, for me you would si?”

Marc feels his blood run all the way to his dick, leaving his brain empty, just the words next time resonating in his head.

There will be a next time.

Vale doesn’t even want an answer, he just tugs at his briefs and Marc is quick to remove them, Vale doing the same, looking at Marc with a fondness he shouldn’t feel.

Marc is even quicker to climb back on Vale’s lap and smash his lips against the man’s, muffling his moans as he lifts himself up and takes Vale’s dick in hand, slowly but steadily lowering himself on it.

“You’re so hot Marc so so hot you look divine like this” Vale groans as Marc finally sinks down completely, he never wants to feel anything else, he’s just too perfect to be true.

Marc starts to ride Vale, slowly still because his legs are tired from their first round in the club. But after a few moans from Vale and the man’s hand squeezing his ass like he owns it he forgets everything about the soreness in his thighs and picks up the pace, steading himself with his hands on Vale’s shoulders, his eyes unable to leave Vale’s as he keeps on squeezing his ass, for sure leaving a red mark on it too.

It’s the possessiveness he does it with that gets Marc more aroused, the feeling that in that moment he belongs to Vale.

Vale straightens up a bit, the new angle catches Marc by surprise and has him yelp like he was just caught doing something illegal.��

One of his hands shifts from his ass to his hair, tugging at them just enough to make him whine.

The boy doesn’t stop his movements, chanting his name like a mantra.

He's basically bouncing on Vale’s cock, and it becomes the only thing he can think about, feeling Vale filling him up so nicely and never wanting to forget this sensation.

Vale’s hand moves once again, slowly letting go of Marc’s hair to close around the boy’s throat.

He had seen what it did to him back at the club, but now that the boy is even more sensitive and fucked out, he needs to see what happens now.

Marc is riding him with passion as if it’s a competition and he’s the fucking Olympics contender for the first place.

But when one of Vale’s hands closes around his throat and the other goes to his chest, his fingers teasing his nipples again, he loses his rhythm, letting out a moan so pornographic Vale is sure he’s about to ascend to Heaven.

Marc is melting under his touch, he feels so hot Vale thinks he could get burned, especially when Marc picks his pace up again, just whispering in a loop “yes yes yes yes” as he rides him, head thrown back, eyes closed and a strong grip on his shoulders.

“Fuck Marc you-God you really are perfect” Marc smiles as much as he can at the compliment, his brain now putty and so filled with Valentino’s name he fears he may just black out from pleasure.

“Ah you should see yourself right now tesoro, you look so pretty on my lap like this, a fuck a pretty princess on his throne”.

Marc goes completely red, moaning audibly at the comment, making Vale’s eyes sparkle with interest.

But even Marc has his limits and for how much he can try and not feel his thighs burning from exhaustion they ultimately give up, not holding him up anymore as he tries to still ride Vale.

And he’s half crying, he wants Vale to come inside him as he was riding him, but all his thoughts are shut down by Vale’s lips on his own, brushing them a bit too lightly for the kind of sex they’re having.

“You felt so so good riding me Marc, but after all you’re the winner no? Shouldn’t be doing all the work, you should let me do some of it too, don't you think?”

“Please” it’s almost indecipherable, a whine coming softly out the boy’s mouth.

Vale breaks away from the headboard, the hand previously placed on Marc’s chest sliding on his back, accompanying him gently on the bed, to then go rest on his hip, a permanent feeling carved in Marc’s memory and -at least he hopes- on his body too.

The hand on his throat stays there though, it gets Marc too fucked out and it would be a crime to move it away.

Vale picks up a fast pace immediately, Marc’s legs around his waist making him go feral with want, Marc’s whimpers not helping, especially with the way he is very clearly enjoying having a hand choking him.

Vale moves to kiss him but Marc’s hands are faster, pulling him closer, lips messily meeting in a rush that makes Vale moan in the kiss.

Marc’s hands travel to his biceps, he’s digging his nails in, which for sure will leave marks, but Vale just doesn’t care in this moment, too taken by how perfect Marc feels around his cock, hot and wet like in his best dreams.

When Vale hits his prostate Marc dies, he moans his name so loud Vale is sure the whole damn floor heard him, which is good, this way they know who he belongs to.

He starts babbling nonsense, his legs losing every last bit of strength to hold around Vale’s waist, the oxygen flow so light he can’t even think.

“Papi please” it’s said with tears in his eyes, begging for something he doesn’t even know.

Vale stops mid thrust and asks Marc to repeat, lightening the pressure on the boy’s throat.

Marc panics for a moment, maybe it was too much, too soon but when he sees Vale’s stare burning with lust he knows it’s the opposite, so he says it again, the oxygen to his brain a bit more making him able to form a decent sentence.

“Please papi I need to cum please”

Vale’s grip on his hip tightens, both his hands there now, as he resets the pace from before, aiming and hitting his prostate at every thrust.

“Fuck Marc you’re going to kill me if you say that” Vale’s brain is melting too, Marc calling him papi being the only thing he can hear.

“Papi please”

After a few more thrusts hitting his prostate Marc is back again to not being able to talk anymore, Vale lowering himself to kiss him sloppy, moans dying in their mouths, Marc’s hands gripping Vale’s back and nails digging and scratching, leaving marks Vale is gonna remember for a while.

a series of ah ah ah leaving Marc’s mouth as a beg, he can hear the slap of skin against skin and Vale’s grunts and he fucks into him more and more rapidly, his own moans filling the room.

“Papi you fill me up so good fuck” and Vale’s pace becomes irregular, he’s so damn close, they both know he is, Marc thightens the grip of his legs around Vale’s waist, he’s completely gone, he can just feel Vale inside and around him, and he would die right now a happy man if this was the last thing he got to experience.

“Marc I’m close you feel so good you’re so hot” they both are on edge, Vale is trying to keep composure, Marc doesn’t care anymore, he just needs Vale to claim him again, wants to feel the hot liquid spilling inside him and Vale calling him his.

“Please inside, please” Vale mutters something underneath his breath, then pumps Marc’s dick a few times, Marc can feel the roughness of his hands, and it’s so good, he sees white, cums arching his back and holding onto Vale’s for dear life, his release panting both his and Vale’s abs.

And when Vale finally feels Marc clenching around him it’s too good to try and resist, he cums too, shooting his load inside a completely blissed Marc who can just whine at the sensation.

Vale starts kissing all over Marc’s face, still inside him, the boy letting his legs fall from Vale’s hips, not an ounce of strength left in his body.

“Mine mine mine mine mine, all mine” his hands are still on Marc’s hips, keeping him glued to the bed, as he lets out soft, almost inaudible moans.

“Say it again Vale please, say I’m yours again” Vale grins, as he does after winning a though race, satisfied, conquering, powerful, because he just managed to win him, win him over every other person who wants a piece of that perfect boy lying beneath him, smiling at him with an unprecedented softness.

“You’re mine Marc” and Vale kisses him deeply while slipping out, both responding to the action with a moan of displeasure.

Vale really wants to just bring Marc to have a bath and clean him up, he really does, but no one could’ve prepared him for the sight he would’ve come across once breaking away from Marc.

His hole is pink and still swollen from the brutal pace he set before, overflowing with his cum, and Vale practically stops breathing, while Marc is blushing profusely, because he knows what Vale’s thinking, and he desperately needs him to act on it.

And Vale does, he starts eating him out, pushing his release back inside Marc, obscene and squelching sounds filling up the room, together with what little whimpers Marc can still form.

He goes on for a good minute, before Marc grips his hair, a string of “too much too much” making its way to Vale’s ear, who promptly gets up, cleaning the drops around his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Sorry sorry you were too beautiful to let you like that tesoro, I needed to do it”

God. Vale needed that, him. It’s more than enough for Marc to smile, completely fucked dumb, and rapidly drifting to sleep.

“Woah no no no tesoro need to take a bath si? I have to clean you up I promise after the bath you can sleep for two whole days”

“might need two days just to recover from this” Marc smiles, his usual cat-like smile, as Vale helps him up from the bed, his legs still shaking and wobbly, so much Vale has to pick him up and bring him to the bathroom, sitting him on the edge of the bath.

Marc plays with the water filling the bathtub for some minutes, until he decides the temperature and level are ok.

He slips in, a warm sensation making his muscles relax, immediately followed by the sound of Vale getting in as well, wrapping his arms around Marc, pulling him against his chest.

“You were amazing bimbo, really, haven’t felt so good in forever” he nuzzles the boy’s neck, making him laugh slightly, he’s ticklish there, better make a mental reminder of it, Vale never knows when it could be useful.

“So beautiful”

Marc eventually falls asleep at the sound of Vale praising him and calling him beautiful, his arms keeping him close.

And it feels like a dream.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #motogp rpf #motogp fanfic #motogp smut #valentino rossi #marc marquez #jorge lorenzo #cal crutchlow #andrea dovizioso

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