#Canadian glass and mirror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wearebarca · 3 months ago

Text

8. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,1k

Warnings: 18+ Smut

A/N: Feedback is always nice. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

Rosalie knew all about stress. She had experienced a very wide variety of stressful situations. From race days to big games to work related situations, even personal stuff. But right now, sitting half naked in her bed with an array of clothes around her, Rosalie was experiencing a different type of stress.

She had spent time with some of the girls from the team but it always was in very casual circumstances. Tonight was different. They were set to go to a popular club in downtown Barcelona and from what she had translated in the groupchat, the girls were excited to show off their outfits. Rosalie wasn’t a big fan of clubs and bars and her wardrobe cruelly lacked in any club worthy outfits.

She was currently stuck between a few options but after sending each outfit to her groupchat with lia and leah, she settled for a short sleeve dress that exposed her back dangerously low. She left her wavy hair loose and did her makeup slightly darker than usual.

She was taking one last look into her bedroom mirror, feeling quite proud of the way it all turned out, when her phone rang and Keira’s name lit up her screen.

“Bonsoir petite merde.” She said laughing, knowing damn well that the blonde did not know what she had just called her. Lucy’s laugh could be heard in the distance, which told the brunette that the couple was likely close and calling to let her know.

“That was unnecessary.”

“Don’t act like you know what I just said.”

“Lucy’s reaction told me plenty.” Keira said exasperated. “We’re rounding the corner, the bar is a block from here so we’ll park in your street and walk from there is that alright?”

“Sounds good.” Rosalie said, putting away her makeup.

“We’re coming up so you better be dressed and ready.” Lucy said, the sound of a car door audible in the background.

“Oui madame.” The Canadian said before hanging up. A few minutes later, the couple barged in her little flat, and the sound of her cabinets being opened and glasses being set down on the counter was heard all around.

“By all means, Faites comme chez vous!”

“We're fixing you a drink, believe me you’ll need it.” Keira said, pouring an impressive amount of liquor in three glasses. She made a move to reach for the bottle of coke but the Canadian quickly stopped her.

“Non non non. You are not wasting this perfectly good whiskey with coke.” She said, reaching for two glasses and handing one to Lucy. Keira rolled her eyes and poured some in her glass nonetheless.

“You two are a different breed that’s for sure.” The burn from the alcohol soothed the brunette’s nerves a little as she downed her first glass with Lucy, quickly pouring another for the older woman and herself.

“You’re packed for national camp already?” Kiera asked, eyeing the bags near the front door.

“ Oui, I have a feeling that tomorrow I won’t be in the right state to pack a proper bag.” Rosalie said, sipping at the brown liquid.

“ Smart Frenchy, very smart. The flight is at 9 the next day, we’ll be downstairs at 6:00 and grab coffee on our way there. Sarina sent me your plane ticket by the way.” Lucy said, twirling the liquor in her glass. The French-Canadian nodded and took a seat next to the blond englishwoman.

“So, what is the plan, how is the night going to go?” The brunette said, taking a sip of her drink.

“We’re gonna walk to the club, it’s only three blocks away.” Lucy said, eyeing Keira up with a mischievous grin, the blond sporting a similar look. “And for the rest, you’ll have to see for yourself mate.”

They finished their drinks and left Rosalie’s flat soon after. The air was warm and a fresh breeze carried the smell of food from the many restaurants along with the sound of laughter and many conversation blending in the night. The streets were alive, buzzing with people, relieved for the start of the weekend.

Someone linking their arm with hers pulled Rosalie out of her thoughts. “You look amazing Frenchy, you gunnin for someone in particular tonight?” Keira said, twirling the French-Canadian like a dancer.

“Non, non, I don’t know what you are referring to.” Rosalie said, walking slightly faster to meet Lucy ahead.

“You know,” The older English woman began, “Looking like that, the cold and composed captain’s surely gonna lose control.” She said, hugging the Canadian’s shoulder. Rosalie’s face went beat red and she pushed Lucy off of her. By now, they could hear the distant beat of music and the traffic in the streets increasing.

The club was situated on a small pedestrian side street. A long queue of people was stretched in front of the already busy club. Most of the crowd waiting looked and sounded already under the influence which worked to the little group’s advantage as they were able to make their way to the bouncer without being recognized.

Once their little group reached the door with Lucy leading them, the bouncer stepped in front of them to block the way. Once his eyes met with Lucy’s, the realization on the young man’s face was almost comical. “Oh, yes, VIP section.” He said with a nervous falter to his voice. He crossed two names on his clipboard then, looked up to the woman who was unknown to him. “ Is she the photographer?”

His tone did not please Lucy who sent him a look that chilled him on the spot. He made a gesture for the doorman to let them in, eager to move on before embarrassing himself further.

The club was already packed, the music deafening and the air was filled with the smell of alcohol and sweat. It was electric, dizzying even, for the French-Canadian who had not set foot in a club this big since she had left England.

One thing she quickly remembered upon entering was just how much she hated these places. Her discomfort was almost funny to the two English women standing behind her. She made a move to back out but Lucy and Keira each grabbed one of the photographer’s arms and walked the brunette to an area at the back of the club with several sofas, tables and the entire team already halfway to their second drink.

When the girls saw their beloved photographer they all stood and cheered. Soon enough, Rosalie was being handed a drink and dragged by Mapi to a couch which was already occupied by Sarah, Ingrid, Sandra, Pina, Patri and Alexia. The little group all cheered and whistled at the sight of their friend, but Alexia stayed almost completely still. The only part of her moving was her piercing gaze taking in every inch of the brunette.

The captain knew that tonight would be hard. She had imagined many scenarios of how this night would go. She had told herself countless times how she needed to stay friendly and professional with the smaller brunette,but upon seeing the photographer in that dress, Alexia seemed to forget every word of her little pep talk.

The way that her dress hugged her athletic figure made the captain’s head spin. The photographer turned around and gave the captain a full view of the open back of said dress. She knew that the smaller woman had tattoos because of the small ones on her arms, but she had never seen the one that went along her spine. It was a fine line which seemed to follow no particular pattern. It snaked down her spine, like a path, all the way to her lower back. All Alexia wanted to do was trace the line with her fingers, with her mouth, kiss every inch of inked skin.

The blond rapidly shook her head, cursing herself for letting her mind go to such places so soon after the woman’s arrival. Even then, it seemed impossible for her gaze not to be dragged back to the woman in front of her. Her hair was down in waves, her makeup darker than normally which accentuated her piercing green eyes. Eyes that were now settled on her.

Alexia sent a shy smile her way as she raised her glass in the photographer’s direction. She answered with a bright smile and a similar gesture. Rosalie was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, thanks to the fact that she rarely drank, but the slight buzz gave her all the courage she needed to take a seat right next to the woman who made her so nervous.

“ Bonsoir Alexia, I am surprised to see you with a drink. I thought you didn’t drink during the season.” She said, eying the glass the blond had been nurturing since the start of the night.

“Tonight is special I hear.”

“Yeah, it certainly seems so” Their conversation was cut short by Cata with a tray of what looked like tequila shots. Rosalie turned towards the keeper, which made her almost face the blond, the warm skin of her exposed thigh lean on Alexia’s own.

“ It’s shot time chicas!” Yelled as she passed around the small glasses. She handed one to Alexia who refused, disappointing the keeper slightly. With the feeling of her first drinks already strong, Rosalie decided that tonight, she did not need to be careful. Tonight, she would let herself have fun surrounded by people who were quickly becoming family.

She reached over Alexia to pick up the shot Cata was handing her, placing her other hand on Alexia’s thigh to stabilize herself. That movement alone, the light squeeze of her hand, how for an instant Alexia’s senses were swarmed by the photographer. Her floral perfume mixed with something that was so unmistakably Rosalie. How her hair fell all on one side exposing the soft skin of her neck.

Alexia had to take a deep breath to try and re centre herself. “Dios mio dame uno de esos.” She said to Mapi who had ended up with the tray.

The tattooed woman sent her a knowing smirk as she watched her nervous friend down to harsh liquid.

The start of the night was slow. People were mostly sitting around and chatting. Rosalie was surprised to see how comfortable she was in such an environment, but with the buzzing of the alcohol in her system and her friends surrounding her, it was easy to forget how loud and full the club was.

She was still on the same couch, in between Alexia and Ingrid. She would not admit it but being this close to the captain was unnerving for the photographer who tried very hard to not show it. But of course Alexia, purposefully or not, made the task extremely difficult.

Engaged in a conversation with Mapi, who was on the other side of Ingrid, the Catalonian had her arm on the back of the couch, and was sitting back in a way that made the brunette feel like if she moved back an inch, she’d be leaning completely on the blond’s front.

Suddenly, someone a few seats down screamed something in Spanish and several of the girls cheered and left their secluded area towards the dance floor. Before she could react, someone grabbed her hand and dragged her to the floor.

“Oh non non I don’t dance.” She told the girl who still had a firm grip on her wrist.

“Tonight you do amiga!” The voice, who she soon realized belonged to Patri, said, as she dragged her towards a small group of Barca girls already dancing. Seeing the smiles and hearing the contagious laughter was what ultimately allowed the photographer to let loose and start moving to the rhythm of the music. No one was judging, it was simply a group of friends having fun and enjoying a night out.

From the VIP area, Alexia, Ingrid, Irene and Paños had a pretty clear view of the rest of the team. None of them were keen on dancing and had stood their ground against the younger players and exited girlfriend, in Ingrid’s case.

The Norwegian was smiling as she watched Mapi show off her most ridiculous dance moves to Rosalie who, with obvious difficulty, was trying to keep up with the Zaragozian.

It took at least a song for the group to utter any words. After a moment, it was Sandra who disrupted their little bubble in the middle of this hectic environment. She grabbed Irene’s shoulder and dragged her closer so she wouldn’t have to yell.

“This pining has to stop.” She said to her friend while watching the blond who’s gaze had not left the brunette since she had left.

“Ah si, it is excruciating to watch.”

“You know what we discussed in Sevilla? You think it is a good time to use this.” Sandra said, watching the way Alexia’s jaw tightened every time one of the girls was dancing too close to the Canadian.

“Si, it is now or never,” she said, sending a look to the blond, she laughed and turned back to the keeper, “ it won’t take much, she’s already on the brink.”

The Spaniards quickly briefed Ingrid in their little plan and soon after, it was set to motion.

“Ale! Come on! We all know you want to go out there.” Sandra said as she sat down next to the midfielder.

“No no I can’t dance you know that.” She said, finally tearing her gaze away from Rosalie.

“We all know you want to get out there with her.” Sandra said, leaning back on the couch while twirling the straw in her drink. “Who could blame you, look at her.”

As if on cew, the song changed to a slower beat, which had the brunette change the pace from fun and electric to swaying her hips to match the more sensual beat of the song.

“Oh believe me I am looking.” The captain said under her breath, but the comment did jot go unnoticed by the keeper.

“You should go before someone else swipes her away.” Alexia didn’t move. She looked deep in thought. When the goalkeeper realized that the blond wouldn’t move, she got up and started to walk towards the dance floor, but stopped right before exiting the Vip section.

“Your loss captain.”

Rosalie was smiling and she could not stop. She could feel the base all the way through her bones and it was like her body had a mind of its own. Gone was the stress that was clawing at her at the start of the night, all she could feel was the rhythm of the music guiding her movements.

She was currently dancing with Salma and Pina when she felt a hand settle on her waist and the heat of an unfamiliar presence behind her. She knew right away that the mysterious woman was not Alexia, but judging by the face the girls with her made, it was one of their own.

Rosalie did not think much of it. She just kept following the beat of the music, letting the warm hands guide her. As time passed , the general fun and carefree vibe of the club changed for something heavier, a lot more seductive.

The hands on her waist got bolder, pulling the photographer closer. Rosalie spun around, having guessed the identity of the taller woman behind her, and hooked her arms around the keeper’s neck.

“Not the person you were expecting right?” She said with a big smile on her face.

“No, but I am not mad about this either.”She answered with a matching smile. There was no need to argue her case. She knew that the goalkeeper was aware of what was going on. Rosalie might be on the dance floor, but she was completely aware of Alexia’s eyes on her and she had seen Sandra attempt to convince the captain to come out on the floor.

Paños leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of the brunette’s ear. “She’s watching us now.”

On instinct, Rosalie pressed herself even closer to the keeper. “Do you trust me?” She asked, leaving a kiss at the junction of her neck and collarbone. The contact sent shivers down her spine.

Unable to respond, the Canadian simply nodded and focused on the feeling of the base travelling her body.

They kept dancing like this for a while, with Sandra making sure that the photographer was comfortable every time her hands wandered. Ingrid, who was still sitting between Irene and Alexia, sent a look to the older woman. She could not believe the nerves her teammates had.

Alexia was livid. She was sitting on the couch, completely rigid, her cold gaze pinned on the goalkeeper, her jaw tensing with every kiss laid on the brunette’s neck and every time her hands roamed a little too low.

As if Sandra knew, she lifted her gaze and held Alexia’s head on, daring her almost to come and interrupt her.

“How long do you think it’ll take before she storms on the dance floor?” Ingrid subtly asked, her eyes not leaving the captain.

“Any moment now.” Irene said. She felt a little bad for her friend, but she also knew that the captain needed a little push to go after what she wanted.

What made the captain snap was when Rosalie turned around in the goalkeeper’s arms and finally made eye contact with the blond. Her hips were swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music, the movement almost hypnotic to the footballer. And while Sandra was still pressed up against her, holding her waist and caressing the skin exposed by her dress, the photographer was looking at Alexia like she wished it was her.

Even in the arms of another, very beautiful woman, all Rosalie wanted was the midfielder. This was what did it for Alexia. That look, filled with desire, inviting her to come and claim what could be hers if she so pleased.

In a matter of seconds, the footballer had managed to make her way through the crowd and grab Rosalie by the hand, ripping her away from the goalkeeper, who was already grinning at her teammates still on the couch.

“Ale! What are you doing?” The Canadian asked as she allowed the catalonian woman to drag her towards the back of the club. The captain didn’t answer, she simply kept walking, never letting go of the woman’s hand. They passed several of their teammates who all had the same expression on their faces, knowing very well that they would not see the two of them for the rest of the night.

The club bathrooms were individual stalls with their own sinks. Alexia could not be more glad for this fact as she dragged the photographer behind and closed the door, locking them in.

For an instant, they both stayed silent, Alexia never letting go of the other woman's hand. A second later, this moment of stillness was interrupted by an intense pull, a need to finally close the space between them.

Alexia was the first to move, drawing Rosalie closer and tangling her hand in the brunette’s hair. As soon as Rosalie’s lips made contact with Alexia’s, a sight came out of her, as if her body had been waiting for this moment all night. Their kiss was frantic, sloppy almost, with every movement controlled solely by intense desire. Alexia pushed the photographer until her back suddenly hit the bathroom door, which made the woman gasp. The small sound gave the blond the opportunity to press her tongue inside Rosalie’s eager mouth. She tasted of alcohol and something that could only be her and Alexia decided that she definitely needed more.

Her hands left Rosalie’s hair and started to roam downward, along her sides all the way to her hips. Rosalie could feel her skin ignite everywhere Alexia touched.

The door knob was digging in the brunette’s back but she couldn't care less about it right now. The way the blond was currently attacking her lips was electric and the feeling of her hands getting bolder had the photographer reeling as she hooked one of her legs around the midfielder, dragging her impossibly closer.

The change of angle had the blond’s thigh wedged itself between the photographer’s, giving her the perfect opportunity to grind down on her leg. The shift of the muscles, along with the movement of her hips, dragged a loud moan from the brunette, which was swallowed in a hungry kiss.

This new position had Rosalie’s dress hike up significantly, revealing the skin of her thighs and stopping just below her waist. Alexia’s hand moved down to explore the new expense of skin as her lips kissed down her neck, nipping slightly at the skin.

Rosalie’s head lolled back , hitting the door with a dull thud. Her body was on fire. All of her senses were overwhelmed by the captain. The smell of her expensive perfume mixed with her strawberry shampoo was intoxicating. The taste of her lips on hers, the feel of her calloused hands traveling on her body. She knew her panties were most definitely ruined by now.

“Ale, we should..” the rest of her sentence was cut short by a gasp as she could feel Alexia’s fingers graze just past the fabric of her pantie.

The blond pulled back, her hand retreating from her spot under her dress. “Are you ok, do you want me to stop?” She asked with concern.

Rosalie’s answer came fast. “ Non non, god no.” She said, grabbing the blond’s face and pulling her in for a kiss. “ I just think we should take this somewhere more comfortable, if you want.”

Alexia didn’t need to be asked twice. In less than five minutes, the duo was exiting the club and walking towards the photographer’s flat. The walk was mostly silent, but filled with tension so thick you could cut through with a butterknife.

Finding her keys at the bottom of her bag seemed like an impossible task when the brunette could almost feel Alexia’s hot breath on the back of her head. She almost dropped the set of keys when the blond grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against her front.

“ Sérieusement Alexia give me a chance.” She said, dropping her keys this time when soft lips grazed her neck. Alexia chuckled as she took a step back, allowing the brunette to compose herself a little before unlocking.

As soon as the door is opened, Rosalie is dragged inside and pushed against the closed door, much like her previous position in The club bathroom. But this time, the blond waits to connect her lips to Rosalie’s.

Alexia takes a deep breath and wills her hands from wandering from their spot on the brunette’s hips. Their foreheads connect, lips only millimeters apart. Rosalie can almost taste them. All she needed to do was lean in a little more, but she was afraid to break the stillness, the intensity of the moment.

“Rosalia, are you sure?” Alexia whispered, softly. She tried to surge forward and capture the captain’s lips, thinking that actions were stronger than words, but was stopped by the taller woman pulling away and pinning her harder against the door.

“No no bonita I need to hear you say it.” She said in a low voice, as her lips were ghosting on the sensitive skin of her neck. She smiled, well aware of the effect she had on the brunette and revelled in the way she could feel her breath quickening and hear the soft moans that escaped the brunette’s lips.

Control was becoming an issue for the captain as well as she fought to not just rip off that beautiful dress and take her here and now, against her apartment door. Alexia’s lips moved down, close enough for Rosalie to feel the heat of her breath but not enough to actually feel the press of her lips on her skin.

Finally she reached where the hem of her dress sat at the base of her neck. She nipped at the spot right at the base of Rosalie’s throat, swiping her tongue on the newly formed bruise to soothe the skin.

Forming a coherent sentence was an impossible task for the photographer at the moment. She reached out to pull the midfielder further in but was stopped before her hands could get to the back of her head.

“Tell me you want this and I’ll do anything you want.”

“Please Ale, I need you.” It was like a switch was flipped. She grabbed the back of the photographer’s thighs and hoisted her up. The brunette let out a slight laugh as she let the footballer carry her to the bedroom.

She laid her down gently on the cover and stood up at the feet of the bed. Rosalie leaned back on her elbows, green eyes meeting hazel as the blonde’s gaze softened.

“Eres tan hermosa.” She all but whispered before laying down and capturing the brunette’s lips once more. Gone was the urgency from before, but the passion between the two was still burning strong.

Rosalie’s breath came out ragged as she could feel the blond’s lips kiss and suck at the skin just below her pulse point. In a surge of desire, she pulled at the bottom of the midfielder’s top, needing to finally feel the heat of her skin first hand. Alexia somehow managed to rid herself of the fabric fast enough that it was like her lips had never left.

“Can I take this off, bonita?” She asked gently as her hands were fiddling with the bottom of her dress.

The answer came with the photographer arching her back, giving Alexia the necessary space to push the dress upwards and finally allow the blonde to marvel at the newly exposed skin. Alexia almost growled at the sight of the photographer, left only in a black lacy tong, hair tousled and eyes dark and clouded by desire.

She kissed down the valley of her breast, lightly biting at the skin before soothing the bite with her tongue. Her hand travelled up to cup her breast while her mouth explored freely.

She took her time, kissing every inch, worshiping the photographer, showing her just how much she wanted her. Rosalie on the other hand, was reeling. She could feel her arousal pooling in her panties. She needed more. She whined and pushed Alexia’s head down in hopes that the blonde would understand the message, but the captain had other plans. She grazed her nipple with her teeth before biting down, which sent a shock straight to her core.

The moan that came out of the photographer’s lips was loud

Alexia’s hand travelled down until she reached the hem of the lacy fabric. There was still a part at the back of Rosalie's mind which was embarrassed about what would the blonde discover when her fingers would dip lower.

“What do you want, amor?” She said with a smirk plastered on her face.

“Please touch me.” The photographer whimpered.

“I am touching you.” She said, while she slipped down the bed to settle between the brunette's legs.

That confident, cocky side of her, the one that shone bright when she wore the red and blue kit along with the arm band, was peaking through as she gazed up at the smaller woman. Rosalie couldn’t believe that this woman had not been remotely close to where she needed her the most and she already had her begging.

Her hands were now caressing the smooth skin of her tights, squeezing her flesh, making the woman beneath her gasp at the feeling.

« Please I need to feel you. » reaching down only to have her hands pinned down on the bed. « I want your mouth on me, Ale please. »

“Ok bonita, lift your hips for me.” She said, hooking her fingers in the waistband of her panties and slipping them down her legs.

“Oh look at you baby.” The sight with which she was met was nothing short of heavenly. Her lips were glistening with arousal and Alexia could not help but leave a soft kiss right where Rosalie desperately needed contact.

“All this for me?”

“Oui, all for you.” The photographer said, lifting her head just enough to watch the midfielder finally lick down the length of her slit. She groaned at how her taste flooded her mouth, the vibration sending shockwaves through the brunette.

“You taste so good,” Her tongue found her clit and lapped gently and parts your lips with her tongue, collecting her juice at the same time.

Alexia is attentive to every breath hitch, whimper and moan coming from the brunette, reading her like an open book. It didn’t take long before Rosalie had lost all control of her own body and mind. All her senses were in overdrive, but there was something missing.

Alexia’s lips captured her clit and sucked lightly at the bundle of nerves. Rosalie saw stars clouding her vision. “ fuck Alexia s’il te plait, don’t stop.”

The mix of French and the pleading only motivated the blonde even more as she focused on her clit, altering between tight circles and sucking at the flesh.

“ Ale..” she said before a long moan interrupted her sentence.

“Que necesitas, bonita?”

“More,” She simply was not able to form a sentence in the state she currently was. Alexia’s hand left her hips to travel down between her legs and tease at her entrance.

“Is this what you want?” She asked smugly.

“Yes! Oui please.” Alexia smiled at the brunette’s eagerness and could not do anything but oblige after the photographer had asked so nicely. Her mouth fell open as her fingers finally stretched her.

Her name was on her lips, chanting it like a prayer. Her hand was desperately grasping at anything she could reach before finally finding and intertwining her fingers with Alexia’s free hand. The feel of her climax was approaching fast, like an all-consuming fire ready to swipe everything in its wake.

Her legs tensed, around the captain’s head and she could feel her walls clenching around her fingers. Her hips started to buck against her face.

“You are doing so good for me bonita.” She said before curling her fingers, reaching the spot inside her that

She lifted her leg on her shoulder and curled her fingers deeper inside her. The change in angles allowing the captain to reach a spot deep inside her that had the photographer completely lose it. Her heel was digging in the blonds back but she couldn't care less. Every swipe of her tongue, along with the steady thrust of her fingers brought her that much closer to the edge. Alexia could feel just how close by the way her walls were clenching, making it harder to keep her rhythm.

The brunette could hear Alexia speak to her softly in what she thought was Catalan. She couldn’t understand a word but it didn’t matter, the hushed soft sound of her voice alone was enough to guide her over the edge.

Alexia slowed down her trust but kept her mouth on her, lapping up everything the brunette was giving her. It had been a strong one. The kind that completely short circuited her brain and left her body limp on the sheets. When the feeling became too much, she pulled at Alexia’s hand to drag her up to her lips. The kiss was soft and slow, full of appreciation and a feeling that Rosalie was not quite ready to name yet.

They stayed quiet for a moment. Alexia’s head against the photographer’s chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. “Are you ok, Rosalia?”

Rosalie smiled and took a deep breath before shifting their position, ending up on top of the captain. The sudden movement stunned the footballer who let out a gasp as she found herself trapped under the smaller woman. “ qué estás haciendo…”

Rosalie didn’t wait for the end of her sentence and crashed her lips on Alexia. A new fire had ignited once the shock of her orgasm had faded. She wanted to make the blond feel as good as she just had.

“You don’t have to…”

“Non non, none of that.” The brunette said as her lips travelled down her neck to the valley of her breast. “I want to taste you Alexia, will you let me?.” She asked, looking up to the footballer. She looked so good at this moment, her hands caressing down her hips, hair cascading down one side, a silent question written in her eyes. Alexia groaned at the sight.

“Si, si, I want you to.” She said, as her head fell back on the pillow and her arms came up, covering her face. Rosalie’s lips connected with Alexia’s chest, teasing the skin with her teeth and soothing the bites with a kiss. They travelled down to Alexia’s abdomen where they were met with taunt muscles which twitched with every kiss and drag of her tongue.

This was probably Rosalie’s favorite part of the footballer. She remembered every time she had caught herself almost drooling when the midfielder would raise her shirt to wipe some sweat off her forehead, leaving her abs exposed. Now, Rosalie was finally able to map out every crease and ridge of her stomach.

She could see that the blond was growing restless underneath her, and she too, could not wait any longer. She slid down between the blond’s legs, spreading them slightly to accommodate her, and left a kiss at the waistband of her pants. Alexia lifted her hips, chasing the warmth of her mouth, which allowed the brunette to tug down her jeans and panties. Once free from the barrier between the brunette’s lips and her most sensitive parts, Alexia grabbed a handful of her hair and guided her towards where she desperately needed her. But Rosalie had other plans in mind, as she skillfully avoided the women's center, opting to kiss and leave little bite marks on the skin of her inner thighs.

A harsher tug pulled a moan from the photographer as she was brought back right in front of Alexia’s glistening heat. Green eyes met hazel, a teasing smirk dancing on the Canadian’s lips as she watched the captain slowly lose composure.

The first swipe of her tongue felt like heaven. Rosalie went slow, savoring what had officially become her favourite taste. She drew lazy circles around her clit, slowly working up the blond who seemed completely lost in the feeling. The carefulness with which she had previously touched the photography was gone. Her fingers were now firmly anchored in her hair, tugging and pulling every time Rosalie’s tongue swiped down to tease at her entrance. She was essentially grinding down on her tongue, chasing her high which was rapidly approaching.

Rosalie was contempt with the predicament she was currently in, happy to be used for the captain's pleasure. She was attentive to her reaction, switching from sucking at her clit to flattening her tongue before swiping down to finally breach inside. The groan that came out of the blond’s mouth was surely the most erotic sound the photographer had ever heard, and she made it her mission to be the cause of more of these addictive sounds.

Her peak was approaching fast. Her grip on reality fading rapidly as she was consumed by the feeling of the photographer’s hot mouth on her. She opened her mouth, trying to tell the brunette to keep going, that she was close, that her tongue felt so good on her, that she was being so good for her, but she did not know if she had been successful in speaking clearly. Hell she didn’t even know in what language she had spoken, but it didn’t matter. Rosalie seemed to know exactly what to do to make Alexia completely lose it.

Her climax came suddenly. It washed on her like a dangerous wave that drags you under and leaves you thinking you’ll never breach the surface again. Every part of her tensed to the point where it was almost painful, but Rosalie didn’t stop, she only slowed down her ministrations, helping the woman come down slowly. Rosalie kissed up Alexia’s body, before laying down next to her. Her breathing was slowly coming down as she wrapped her arms around the brunette’s shoulder and pulled her in.

“Was this ok?” The brunette asked shyly, as if she had not been buried between the woman’s trembling legs minutes ago.

“Dios mio, Rosalia si, it was more than ok, this was divine bonita.” The blond said, turning her head and kissing the photographer softly. Rosalie smiled as she buried her face in the blond’s neck. Soon enough, the photographer's breath started to even out, her body feeling heavier in the midfielder’s arms. She kissed her head before too, succumbing to the heavy pull of sleep.

#alexia putellas #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #futfem #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas x reader

247 notes · View notes

buuniebaby · 4 months ago

Text

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

#hamzah smut #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahsmut #latina reader

289 notes · View notes

ghostsstolemymoxie · 2 months ago

Note

A request here for smut! enemies to lovers hot hate sex on a mission then people over the intercom back at the mansion here oops 🤭

AHHH OK I love this ideaaaa, just hoping I did it justice <3

【You're so gorgeous - then you start talkin'!】

Logan x F! Reader - Enemies to lovers: Hatefuck edition Divider credit @cafekitsune Tags: No use of Y/n, explicit content (18+, MDNI), unprotected p in v (be smarter than Logan and reader folks), rough sex, spitting, unintentional voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism Please don't click read more unless you're over 18 and willing to see 18+ content and the above tagged content. WC: 3k words

"He's the most arrogant, boorish, misogynistic, vile bastard I have ever met in my life!" You hissed down the comms, trying very hard to hide the scowl etched into your features. "Yes, but he's also your partner on this mission," Ororo replied, calmly, her voice crackling somewhat as it travelled into your ear through the wireless bud for your communications.

All around you, all you could hear was chatter, laughter and bawdy noises.

Serves you right, really. After all, you'd been so desperate to get back into the swing of things and get onto the missions since your injury, you had begged Charles to assign you the next mission, not even caring what it was.

Lo and behold, it leads to you and Logan being sent out on an intel-gathering mission at a casino just by the Canadian border. All you needed to do was listen out for some plan to do with Sentinels being built. Charles had been stingy with the details, though you weren't quite sure why. You supposed he'd given the brief more to Logan - the experienced X-man.

As though summoned by your distasteful thoughts, Logan soon joined you in the casino, already holding a glass in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, with plenty of ice. He stepped up alongside you, glancing you up and down and taking in your black-tie attire with a smirk on his face. "You scrub up nice. Makes sense. You're only here as arm candy." He grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. In truth, it was a wonder that his muscles didn't burst free from the white suit he was wearing, but this was no time for gawking at the wonderful body attached to this awful man. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst person they've ever met?" You mock, even as you follow him to one of the tables. "Has anyone told you that you've got a smart mouth? That's not an attractive quality in a lady, y'know." Logan's retort was fast and icy, barbed in a way that only Logan's tone could be.

"Both of you, you need to focus on gathering intel, not on bickering." It was Scott's turn this time, shrill down the comms as he made sure that both of you heard. From the scowl on Logan's face, he heard perfectly.

A friend of Bolivar Trask was on the roulette table tonight - and apparently, he got loose lips after enough scotch. So, Logan took his seat at the same table, keeping his head down and focusing on looking inconspicuous, whilst you lingered at his side, playing the part of the pretty girlfriend attending alongside her man. Logan chugged the rest of his whiskey, holding out the glass to you. "Get me another one, won't you sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. God, that was the worst word he could use for you. It only made you angry. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too, that said he only knew how mad it made you. Despite his mockery though, you kept your composure, putting a smile on your pretty, painted lips. "Sure thing, hun." You said, leaning in, feigning a kiss on his cheek as you whispered: "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll cut your dick off."

He replied only with a scoff, as you headed to the bar, a scowl plastered on your face. The only way you knew it was because you glimpsed it in the mirror whilst waiting to be served. Once seen, it was schooled quickly, though that didn't stop a passerby from noticing.

Whilst you waited for the bartender, idly listening over your comms to hear whatever was being said at the roulette table, you barely noticed his presence, until he sided up right alongside you. He was a handsome guy, though regrettably not as handsome as your begrudging date for the evening, who remained at the table, unaware.

"Now, what could possibly make such a pretty face look so grumpy?" He asked, cooing the words so condescendingly. "I'm not grumpy." You reply, sourly, before forgetting that whilst you can always hear on comms, they can always hear you. A creak across the room sounds as Logan turns to look at you, and a look of something spreads across his face at the sight of the younger man quite obviously coming onto you. You didn't know what that something was, but it lit a strange, desperate spark in your stomach for just a brief moment.

Still, you needed to deal with the interloper first, so you turned back to him. "I'm kind of in a rush. I'm just here to get my partner a drink." "Partner, huh?" He chuckled. "I get it. Long-term relationship but no ring… has he convinced you that being partners is just as good as being married?"

He had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick, though it was probably more your fault for saying partner rather than boyfriend. "It's not like that." You reply, trying to think of the best phrasing to get him to just leave you alone. "Then what's it like, gorgeous?"

The moron was grinning, missing the point as if he was a professional. All you could do was just roll your eyes and try to catch the bartender's attention. Sooner rather than later.

As you turned to speak to the bartender, the guy spoke up again, this time laying a hand on your arm as he did so. "Come on, Honey, you can tell me. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener. I've had my shoulders wet once or twice. I've got something else I'd love for you to get wet too."

The crudeness wasn't lost on you, and the thought of doing anything with this guy made your nose crinkle in disgust. But before you could reply with anything, you felt the guy's grip get snatched off of you as another, larger hand slid its way around your waist.

"Somethin' I can help you with, bub?" Logan's voice rumbled from behind you, and it clearly rattled the other guy to be challenged by him. After all, Logan was 300 lbs of muscle and adamantium and had the mug of a mean bastard to go with it. Even if that mean bastard was ruggedly handsome and carved from the finest Canadian oak.

You could have defended yourself. You knew this easily, and you were certain Logan did too, though the intensity of his gaze whilst he stared down the other guy forced a needy sensation in your core, betraying any lingering sense of feminism you had.

"No, just talking to the lady here." The guy replied, as politely as he could muster up, despite the fact he was no doubt shitting his pants. "Botherin' her, more like." Logan scoffed. "That cologne of yours is vile, by the way. You should probably try and wear something that doesn't smell like shit next time you try and flirt with a lady. Especially one who's spoken for."

The guy stammered, tripping over himself in trying to respond, his eyes running from you, then back to Logan, lips flapping comically but with no sound coming out.

Logan took this opportunity to tug you away from the bar instead. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go have a talk." He snarled. "Logan, what are you doing? You need to focus on the meeting! Now is not the time for it!" Scott's voice down the communicator was cut off when Logan tore his out of his ear and yours as well (though he was uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked it from your ear).

He stuffed them both in his pocket, dragging you past the roulette table and the blackjack and into the men's bathroom. A single cubicle, with a lock on it that he immediately clicked shut the second that you were both in.

"What the Hell are you thinking?" You snap up at him, tearing your arm from his grip. Logan didn't reply instantly. His nostrils were flared, his beautiful mouth twisted in a vicious sneer and his whole body vibrating with the kind of energy that was more animal than human. His arms were tense, you could see the seams of his jacket nearly fraying at the effort, whilst those Hazel eyes of his burned into yours.

"I'm thinkin' about how furious I am." He snarled in reply, after a moment to think. "I'm thinkin' about how idiotic you are for even strikin' up a conversation with that guy in the damn first place. I'm thinkin'…" One tantalising step forward, and all of a sudden you were braced against the tiled wall. Thankfully the casino was clean, or at least looked it. Logan loomed over you, his breath heavy and stuttering, and for a moment you wondered if he had finally snapped and was going to drive those claws of his into your chest and finally be done with it. "I'm thinkin'… Dammit, that dress is good on you."

You blink, a few times as you look up at him, trying to confirm that you'd heard him correctly, that his eyes truly were raking down your body like that and not that you'd just dreamed it.

"Logan-" "Shut up." He snapped, cutting you off. "Just… shut up. Stop talking. God, you're so gorgeous and then you start talkin'!"

Despite your indignation, you didn't get a chance to reply. In moments he had gripped at your ass, squeezing full handfuls and lifting you from the ground, only to move you, seating you along the counter where the sink was, his eyes burning into yours all the while. He dropped you onto the counter with a thud, and in moments he was ruching up the fabric of your dress, the fabric slipping upwards from your ankles up to your mid-thigh. Hastily, you tried to tug it back down but he was far stronger, and it was a better option to have the dress lifted than torn, especially considering you'd both need to head back out to the floor. Now that there was a little give, he burrowed his strong thigh between your own, until his body was firmly planted between your knees.

"God, what am I doing?" He groaned, hanging his head, his hands planted on either side of your hips, trapping you in place. "You don't want this. You hate me as much as I can't stand you. But… I can't take this anymore. The… the tension, the burning, the need. The ache." His voice trembled as he spoke, his shoulders jerking with his difficult breaths.

As if all at once, you seemed to realise his intention here. He wanted you. Needed you. In a way almost primal and carnal, that seemed completely separate to the mission, or their usual distaste of one another.

A searing hot coil tightened in your gut, pulsating with desperation you didn't know you had in you. It had been a while, that much was for certain. 6 months? A year? Longer? Too long, by all measures. Too long since you'd shared your body with someone so vulnerably, so intimately.

And God, how you longed to share it with Logan.

"Shove me away." He demanded. "Shove me away. Smack me. Tell me I'm a brute and a bastard and you don't wanna fuck me. Do it. Because if you don't, I'm not stopping, mission be damned."

Instead, disobedient to his pleading, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling every ridge and valley even through his tuxedo. There were no words shared, no refusals or acceptances. Only a gentle touch between the fiercest of enemies.

His eyes flared, bright and incensed, and in moments he had shrugged off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly backwards, not caring where it landed, before dropping to his knees.

His hands planted themselves defiantly on your inner thighs, holding them open as he brought his face towards your core, whilst your needy fingers kept your skirt bunched up and out of his way. Logan didn't even bother to pull your panties aside, at first. He pressed chaste kisses at first to the seam of your womanhood, feeling how it slicked at his attention, enjoying the way you reacted to his attention, the way the scent of your desire seemed to permeate the air around him from every angle. He hummed into his kisses as well, the vibration only making that coil in your gut tighter. At the attempts to close your thighs, he only snarled, his grip getting firmer as he held them apart, shooting a glare up at you as if to warn you that if you didn't stop, he wouldn't keep going.

You relaxed your thighs, and he quickly crooked a finger around the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side, taking in the sight of you with a cocked, eager eyebrow.

"You got a pretty pussy, sweetheart. She's a needy thing, huh?" He teased, before toying with his thumb, running along the seam a moment before holding you open, just in time for him to dive in again.

He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you like a hound starved for days on end would lap at the sweetest, most delicious meal. Quickly, he shrugged your thighs onto his shoulders, holding you against his face, as he slung one arm around you, holding your thigh in place on him and sliding his hand over the plane of your hip before he began to rub at your swollen clit, whilst his tongue diverted his focus to your weeping honeypot.

There couldn't be a finer sight anywhere in the world. You didn't care you were in a casino bathroom, or that you were meant to be working tonight on an important mission. Life or death meant jack shit compared to the sight of Logan kneeling between your legs and devouring you. He even seemed to hum in delight as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, nearly drowning him in your need.

He pulled back a moment later, strings of your desire still connecting you to his lips, before he swiped them away, licking them from his fingers.

At your whine, he only scoffed. "You don't finish anywhere but on my cock. You understand me?" He grumbled, standing up again, and unfastening his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall in a puddle on the floor in one swift, easy movement. When you glanced down, you could see he was already at full mast. Larger, thicker, veinier than any you had ever had before. It throbbed in his hand, with 3 beads of precum already leaking down his shaft. He palmed himself a moment, letting out a groan, holding his head in line with your clit as he rocked back and forth, gently. Just enough to soak himself in you.

"Mmm… I don't think you're wet enough." He grumbled, a smirk on his face. You were dripping on the counter, you could feel that already, so you knew he was lying, leading up to something. "So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, locking your gaze with his own.

He pumps his fist along his cock still as he grins back at you, not averting his gaze as he spat, a thick glob of saliva landing right where his cock met your cunt. He smeared it on himself, on you - on where you both would soon become one - and he chuckled. "I always wanted to spit on you. Never thought you'd get so red from it." "I'm not red from tha-" You went to protest, but before you could finish, he had bucked, his entirety sheathed inside of you in one agonisingly ecstatic movement. All of him was buried in your warmth, and your walls shuddered around him. You didn't know which one of you had let out that moan - but you had a sneaky feeling it was both of you.

Your hand gripped his shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, seeking to anchor yourself however you could, feeling how your body pulsated around him, acclimatising to his invasion. "Fuck," He cursed, resting his forehead on your shoulder, forcing himself to remain in place, not moving until you'd gotten used to him. "What, has it been so long since you've had a dick you re-virginised? You're so tight…" He ground his hips against your own, not yet pulling out, but making sure to give you that friction that brought another moan from your lips. "This pretty pussy's been needing a stretch. Don't worry, Princess, I'll give her a workout."

With that, he pulled back, each inch that he rescinded leaving you clenching down on nothing, feeling desperate without him. Against your will, you whined, tangling your fist further in the fabric of his shirt, urging him back again. Even after pulling out so slowly, he bucked in fast, torturous and barbaric in his speed. He bucked so hard that your entire body jolted with the collision between you, but he pulled back as if he wanted to watch you crying at the loss of him.

"What's the matter, Princess? You look about ready to sob." He mocked, before grunting as he thrust back in, just as hard, and you cried out in your mixed delight and pleasure. "You're the worst," You retort, through gritted teeth, trying to maintain your brain function even as every slight movement of his cock penetrating you seemed to make you want to melt into him, drooling and moaning like a moron who knew nothing other than taking Logan's cock. "Am I?" He purred in return, grinding his teeth as he let out three sharp thrusts in succession, robbing you of your breath as you forced your nails into his chest, drawing a groan of animalistic delight from him.

"Sounds to me like you're 'boutta cum, Princess. If I'm the worst… maybe I'll just stop." "No!" God, your voice sounded so breathy as it echoed back around the room, and Logan lit up at the sound. "No?" He parrotted, lips pursed and eyes amused, before he tutted. "No what? Use your words." "No, don't stop." "You don't want me to stop. 'cause I'm not the worst, right?" "N-not the worst…" You repeated. "Not the worst. Good girl, Princess. I'm the man who's 'boutta make you cum all over my cock, ain't I? I'm the best I am at what I do. And what I do is fucking girls like you 'til you're stupid. Right?"

By now your tongue had gone numb. You couldn't form a word in your mind, let alone in your throat or mouth. Instead, all that passed your lips were gasps and mewls and needy moans, as you forced yourself to nod, trying to get your point across.

It seemed Logan was too far gone as well, as he grinned down at you, feral and angry and delighted.

He leaned in, pressing heated, feverish kisses all over your neck, up and along the column of your throat before his forehead rested on yours.

"Fuck, Princess. I'm not gonna last much longer…" He panted out, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, no longer taunting you, and instead chasing his peak. His free hand reached down as well, his fingers splayed over your womb whilst his thumb played with your red, sensitive clit, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Where'd you want it?" Logan snarled. "Tell me, and fast before I… ngh." He bucked, his movements sloppy and desperate. You longed for his warmth inside of you. To feel him spill and buck and ride out his afterglow whilst still nestled in your perfect pussy. To watch the look on his face as he pulled out and saw his own seed oozing from you. "Inside," You demand, the only full word you've managed in a long while. "P…please… inside. Inside." "Wish is my command, darlin'." He grunted out.

His lips crashed against your own, tasking of whiskey and pine and your own sweet nectar, the sensation of receiving a kiss from Logan so tender and desperate finally being enough to tip you over that final cliff.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer, as your pussy fluttered all around him, milking him for all he was worth, as a wave of white-hot euphoria rolled over your mind. Your moans were swallowed by Logan's mouth, as he kept kissing you, letting his own moans and grunts escape as well, the shared sounds of your pleasure rumbling in the caverns of your mouths. "Just like that." He rumbled, between open mouth kisses, murmuring into the plush flesh of your lips. "Cum all over me baby. Make my fuckin' day."

You barely even felt the sensation you'd so longed for as Logan buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling every drop of his cum inside of you, whilst you squeezed every ounce he was worth, the pair of you riding out your orgasms at once.

It took a few seconds for you to catch your breath. Both of you had heaving chests and red faces. Logan pulled free from your lips, though not before offering one teasing, apologetic lip to the seam of your mouth, as though to apologise for kissing so hard and leaving you swollen.

You slid an arm around his shoulders, a silent plea not to pull away, as you pulled him in for one more kiss.

But he froze halfway, and glanced down at his trousers, his eyes growing wide and his jaw tensing.

"Logan? What's the matter?" You ask, leaning forward and glancing down as well, brow furrowed. "I didn't mute the comms." He replied, bluntly.

Didn't mute the comms. The comms that had been in his pocket, and would have picked up their activities.

"Get back to the blackbird, you two. Now. Before you're kicked out of the casino." Scott's voice, tinny and furious, escaped the two comms, even from where they were buried in Logan's discarded trousers. "And don't think for a moment you're not going to be punished for this."

Logan chuckled, reaching down to fasten his trousers back on, returning his gaze to you. "I dunno about you, Princess… but I don't care if I get punished. We're doing that again on the way back. C'mon."

You slid your panties and your dress back into place, stood from the counter and took his hand, heading out of the casino with him, already brimming with excitement for round two - this time with muted comms.

I hope you enjoyed and hope I did this justice - I've not really written enemies to lovers before so this was super fun <3 Feedback is super appreciated so please let me know if you enjoyed!! If you're interested, my requests are open so please feel free to send me any questions, ideas or headcanons you'd like me to explore (please just make sure you've read my pinned post first) TYSM for reading and hope you enjoy <3

#logan x reader #logan howlett #james logan howlett #wolverine x you #logan smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine xmen #x men #wolverine imagine #logan howlett imagine #logan imagine #james howlett #james howlett smut #requests open #moxxxie answers

221 notes · View notes

simplygojo · 20 days ago

Text

Costume Party I - Toji Fushiguro

Author's Note: Hi friends! I hope you guys enjoy this mini series! I allways gotta start these with Toji for some reason...I just think he knows how to fuck if ya know what I mean...anyways, ENJOY!!

The only Kinktober request I am accepting are from my Kinktober Prompt List, thank you <33

Alsoooo Happy Thanksgiving weekend to my fellow Canadians out there, remember to be thankful and to recognize the land we are on.

Pairing: Toji Fushiuro x f!reader

Kinks: Semi-Public Sex, Mirror Kink

Word Count: 1.7K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand; @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, light choking, fingering, aggressive sex, alcohol use.

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived.

Music thumped through the walls, loud enough to feel in your chest, and the crowd inside buzzed with excitement and laughter.

You'd barely had time to throw on your costume after rushing home from work, but you knew Toji was waiting for you inside—dressed as a fox, of all things.

You smirked to yourself, adjusting the bunny ears perched on your head and smoothing your hands over the scandalously tight bodysuit you wore.

The outfit was borderline obscene—the kind of thing that left little to the imagination: black, lacy, and hugging every curve.

The fishnets and heels only made it worse—or better, depending on who you asked.

Your heart raced a little as you entered the venue, scanning the room for him. It didn’t take long. Toji stood in the corner, leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand.

His dark eyes were glued to you the second you walked through the door. His costume wasn’t as elaborate as yours, just a black T-shirt and jeans, with a fox mask pushed up on his head.

But even in something so simple, he looked ridiculously good.

His tall, muscular frame and the sharp lines of his face made him stand out in any crowd.

But it wasn’t his looks that made you grin. It was the way his entire body went rigid the moment his eyes landed on you.

You could see the flicker of shock, the heat that followed as his gaze raked over you, lingering on the curves of your breasts, your hips, and those impossibly long legs wrapped in fishnets.

You saw the exact moment he realized just how hard he was getting, and you bit your lip to hide a smirk as he subtly shifted, trying to adjust himself.

He lifted his drink to his lips, trying to act casual, but his eyes were glued to you, dark and hungry.

You made your way over to him, hips swaying more than necessary, loving the way his jaw clenched as you got closer.

“Nice ears,” you teased, trailing a finger along the fake fox tail hanging off his waistband. “You here to hunt bunnies?”

Toji's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a thrill straight to your core.

"You should be careful, princess," he muttered, voice rough.

"Foxes eat bunnies for breakfast."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear.

"Is that a promise?"

His grip on his drink tightened, and you could see the strain in his muscles, how much he was holding back.

It was delicious. And you weren’t done teasing him just yet.

Throughout the night, you made sure to stay close enough for him to watch, but far enough to drive him crazy.

You danced with other people, laughed at the bar, making sure to catch his gaze every time you bent down to adjust your heels or flipped your hair over your shoulder.

Toji’s eyes followed you everywhere, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his glass, jaw clenched so hard it looked like he might break his teeth.

It wasn’t long before you saw him break.

The last straw was probably when you 'accidentally' brushed up against him, your ass pressing right into his lap as you leaned over the bar.

The way he cursed under his breath, hands clenching at his sides, sent shivers down your spine.

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you through the crowd, his movements determined, almost rough.

You barely had time to react before he was dragging you into a dimly lit bathroom at the back of the venue, locking the door behind him.

“Toji—” You started, but your words were cut off as he spun you around, pressing your back against the cold tile wall.

His body caged you in, the heat from him radiating through his clothes. The hard line of his erection pressed against your stomach, and you bit back a moan.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me all night?” His voice was low, almost a growl, as he gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“Walkin’ around in that tiny little costume, fuckin’ teasing me. Y’think I wouldn’t notice?”

You smirked, hands sliding up his chest.

“Oh, I knew.”

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a groan, he crashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he was starving.

His hands were rough, needy as they roamed over your body, squeezing your ass, gripping your waist, sliding up to your chest as he shoved the fabric of your bodysuit down to expose your breasts.

You gasped as he bent down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your heat through the thin fabric, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your skin, pushing your bodysuit aside and slipping a finger into you.

“Already this wet, huh? You really are a little slut for me, aren’t you?”

His words sent a shock of arousal through you, and you bucked your hips, desperate for more.

Toji chuckled darkly, adding another finger, stretching you as he pumped them in and out at a torturous pace.

“Please,” you whimpered, grinding against his hand.

“Please, what?” He murmured against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Toji,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just please fuck me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Toji growled, pulling his finger out and spinning you around to face the mirror hanging above the sink.

His eyes gleamed darkly as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough so you were forced to look at yourself.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust as he pressed his body against yours, his hard cock teasing your entrance.

“You see what you do to me?”

You could barely manage a response, your breath coming in shallow gasps as your eyes met his in the reflection.

The sight of yourself bent over, Toji’s broad frame towering behind you, only heightened the dizzying pleasure coursing through your body.

Without warning, he thrust into you, burying himself deep with one rough motion. You cried out—loud, your eyes fluttering shut, but he wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh. Eyes open,” he demanded, tugging your hair harder, forcing your gaze back to the mirror.

“I want you to watch yourself while I ruin you.”

His hips snapped against yours, setting a punishing pace, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Your hands clutched the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as you struggled to keep upright.

The intensity of the moment—the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his rough grip kept you exactly where he wanted you—had your body shaking.

“Toji—” You gasped, eyes fixated on the image in the mirror, watching the way your body jolted with every thrust.

His cock pounded into you relentlessly, your skin hot, sweat beading along your brow.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat, gripping just tight enough to make your head spin.

“Look at how desperate you are. So fuckin’ wet for me.”

You moaned in response, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezed just a little harder.

The sight of yourself, cheeks flushed, lips parted in helpless pleasure as Toji took you from behind, was almost too much to handle. You could feel him pushing deeper into you, your walls stretching more than they ever had.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door.

For a split second, the reality of where you were crashed over you—a public bathroom, at a party, with Toji fucking you senseless.

The knock came again, harder this time, followed by an impatient voice.

“Hey, someone in there?”

You barely had time to process the interruption before Toji let out a low, dangerous growl.

He didn’t stop his movements, he continued to fuck you just as hard, just as deep, as he glared at the door.

“Fuck off,” he barked, his voice harsh, filled with irritation. “Busy.”

The person outside hesitated, clearly taken aback by his tone, but Toji was already refocused on you, slamming his hips harder into yours.

The knot of pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you as his cock filled you to the hilt with every thrust, your body trembling under the pressure.

His hand slid back to your clit, fingers rubbing tight, teasing circles, bringing you to the edge of oblivion.

“C’mon, baby,” Toji rasped, his breath hot against your ear.

“Cum for me. Show me how much you like watching me fuck you in front of that mirror.”

The words alone were enough to send you spiralling.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm ripped through you, every muscle tensing, your vision going white with the intensity of it.

Your body clenched around him, and Toji groaned deeply, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrust into you harder, chasing his own release.

With a final, guttural growl, Toji buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, filling you completely.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, your body shaking from the aftershocks, Toji’s forehead resting against the back of your neck as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck…” He muttered, a smirk pulling at his lips as he finally loosened his grip on you, pulling out slowly.

His hands lingered on your hips, the possessive touch making your heart race all over again.

You glanced up at the mirror one last time, meeting his dark, satisfied gaze.

“You really do know how to make a scene,” you teased, voice breathless.

Toji chuckled, leaning down to press a rough kiss to the side of your neck.

“You love it.”

213 notes · View notes

jflemings · 3 months ago

Text

— loose lips sink ships pt6

pairing: jessie fleming x reader other parts

synopsis: jessie looks inward for answers she doesn’t have

warnings: angst, reader is kinda mean lol, not fully proofread so excuse any mistakes whoops

a/n: sorry this took so long 😁

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

when training rolls around on tuesday, jessie calls in sick like a coward. she can’t get out of bed for longer than an hour, much less run around and put a smile on her face for her teammates.

janine texted her immediately once she realised her national captain wasn’t coming to training. her worried messages still stay unread on jessie’s phone three hours after they were received. sinc and sam tried too, only to get the same treatment.

you hadn’t reached out to her though. you hadn’t said a word to her since you walked out the door.

to know that a lie she had told mistakenly years ago might be the undoing of the life you built together made her want to throw up. what made it even worse though, was that she didn’t have an excuse. there really wasn’t a reason for why she said what she did, no matter how hard she tried to conjure one from the part of her brain that was still twenty two; the part that didn’t make sense then and doesn’t make sense now.

the canadian places a hand on her forehead and sighs deeply, tears pricking at her eyes when she thinks of you coming back to tell her that it was over — that you couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t honest from the start. she pictures you grabbing out every suitcase and bag you own to back your clothes, followed by the boxes that you two didn’t throw out when you first moved. she images you packing your trinkets, photos, books and medals and placing them in the boxes. she imagines you throwing away things you aren’t going to need, like the polaroid of you and her you keep on your nightstand. the one that sam took on her 23rd birthday when you and niamh decided to throw her a surprise birthday party.

she imagines the house devoid of you, blank and traceless like you hadn’t ever stepped foot through the front door.

as she turns to lay on her side, jessie wonders if she’s still got a fighting chance or if you’ve made up your mind already. you’ve always been decisive with things like that.

it’s a pill she isn’t prepared to swallow despite the open grave that’s found itself dug in the floor next to her side of the bed. she can’t — won’t — give up you and everything that you are, not without a fight. even if you scream at her and tell her you hate her, she’s going to stand her ground and fight. she’s going to get on her damn knees and beg for your forgiveness if she has to. she’ll spend everyday for the rest of her life making it up to you if you just give her one last chance.

she cries and cries and cries until the sun sets and she had a killer headache, the kind that thrums through your temples mercilessly. her eyes were heavy and puffy, and sore to the touch. jessie sits up and presses the cold heels of her hands onto her eyes, grimacing when she realises just how dry her eyes are from crying.

the canadian stands and grabs an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of the dresser before heading into the bathroom. her movements are groggy and slow from both sleep and the physical toll from crying all day. she lazily flicks on the light and then turns on the shower, putting her hand under the water until it gets hot.

steam fills the bathroom and fogs the shower glass and mirror. she frowns at her blurred reflection in the mirror before casting her eyes down to the sink counter. everything is exactly where you left it after the two of you got home from the match on the weekend.

the toothpaste is uncapped, your discarded hair ties litter the porcelain, and your toothbrush hasn’t been put back into the mason jar turned bathroom decor. for a moment jessie thinks about tidying up — the want to have everything in it’s place beginning to over take her — but she can’t bring herself to. it’s evidence that you were here and not sleeping in a teammate’s spare room.

jessie shakes her head and strips herself of her clothes, throwing them into the dirty laundry before getting into the shower. the hot water makes goosebumps erupt on her skin, turning it red and raw the longer she stands directly under it. she thinks about how you would always scold her for having the water too hot whenever the two of you would shower together.

she runs her hands over her face and grabs her face wash before she can think about that for too long.

she’s on autopilot as she washes her body and hair. it’s a semblance of normalcy in her quickly crumbling home life, almost like you’ll be making dinner and humming to yourself when she steps out of the bathroom. she knows you won’t be, but for the sake of the still lingering headache that’s throbbing behind her eyes, she indulges.

just as she gets out of the shower she hears the front door open and close. her head shoots up towards the closed bathroom door, and her heart launches itself into her throat. jessie stands statue-still for a moment before hastily grabbing a towel off the rack and wrapping it around herself, not even bothering to put on any clothes before she quietly opens the door.

she can hear noise coming from the living room — a bag being dropped on the couch, maybe — and she pokes her head out into the hallway. the canadian stills again. she knows she locked the door last night and she certainly hasn’t faced the outside world today. the only other person who owns a key is you. you, who’s been staying in sam’s spare bedroom whilst she’s been rotting in yours.

dread and anxiety fill her at the thought of you coming home to break up with her. she doesn’t know what she’ll do if she walks out there and end it. she doesn’t know if she can handle living a life without you in it.

the midfielder tiptoes out of the bathroom and pulls the towel tighter around her body. water drips from her hair and onto the floor underneath her. the surface is cold on the soles of her feet and makes her shiver despite her still warm body, she swallows thickly as she approaches.

you’re rummaging through the side table that lives in the corner of the room next to the couch, cursing to yourself when you seemingly don’t find what you’re looking for. she almost can’t believe you’re here after convincing herself that you wouldn’t step foot back in your shared home unless you knew she wasn’t present.

“what are you looking for?” she asks you, the words tumbling out of her mouth quicker than she can register.

you jump at the sound of her voice and whip your head around to look at her, eyes slightly wide after the fright she gave you. you release a breath “the spare phone charger. mine broke last night” you tell her and point to the cord that’s been thrown onto the cushion.

jessie doesn’t look at it “it’s in the kitchen, in the third drawer”

you quickly lick your lips “right”

you’re short with her, for good reason, but it still stings when you can’t look her in the eye for longer than a moment. she watched you hopelessly as you trudge into the kitchen grumbling, following you slowly.

when she walks into the kitchen you’re going through the third drawer frustratedly. she lingers for a few seconds before walking over to you, the towel still clutched tightly in her hand, and leans over your shoulder. she reaches deeper into the drawer and pulls out the cord you’re looking for. “here” she offers with a tight lipped smile.

“thanks” you mumble before kneeing the drawer closed.

jessie steps away from you but you can still smell the shampoo she uses and it makes you miss her more than you already do. she wraps the bath towel around her tighter when you look at her, suddenly getting shy under your expecting gaze.

she doesn’t even know what to say to you. asking if you’re okay doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, but she also doesn’t know if she wants to tell you that the shower she got out of is the first one she’s had since sunday because she couldn’t get out of bed without you.

she purses her lips “how’s your nose?”

you scoff “seriously? we don’t speak for two days and you ask me how my nose is?” you spit “what about an explanation? or an apology? say something worth wasting breath on, jessie”

the lump in her throat drops to her stomach and she steps back from you “i’m sorry”

“great” you roll your eyes and walk around to the other side of the kitchen island “great apology”

“i’m sorry for lying about something unimportant four years ago, it’s not like i thought it was going to come back and bite me in the ass” jessie matches your tone, frustration licking up her throat

“something unimportant!” your pitch raises “lying to me about the duration of your college relationship isn’t something i would call unimportant jessie”

“it was at the time!”

“no it fucking wasn’t!”

the two of you are shouting now and it becomes incredibly clear that you probably won’t be coming home tonight.

she huffs “it was to me”

“that’s not surprising. a lot of things seem to be unimportant to you” you clench your jaw and clutch the charger in your hand tighter. jessie’s eyes widen.

jessie drops her jaw in shock “what does that mean”

“you stood in front of me and couldn’t tell me that you weren’t cheating on me with your ex girlfriend. to me, that means that our relationship isn’t as important to you as i thought” your expression cracks in half and bleeds sorrow. tears begin to well in your eyes as you stare challengingly at her.

“that’s not true” she says fiercely “you know that’s not true”

“no?” you scoff again and tip your head back “then tell me now jessie. tell me that i’m wrong, tell me that you don’t still have feelings for her”

jessie stares back at you with her brows furrowed “i don’t have feelings for olivia”

her words hang heavily in the air, but they somehow don’t make you feel any better. you wanted her to say this to you before, not right now when you have to prompt her to. it makes you feel sick again knowing that she didn’t even try to fight for you or your love.

“i don’t” she whispers “i swear i don’t”

“and yet you let me walk out of here thinking you did” you fire back just as quietly, the tears now slowly spilling over your waterline. “you didn’t say a thing — not one fucking thing — when i asked you point blank. do you know how that felt? it fucking hurt, jess.”

“and i’m so sorry for that” her brown eyes swirl pleadingly “but please, please believe me, you are the love of my life. there’s no one else i could ever picture spending the rest of my life with”

“and yet you can’t give me a slither of an explanation” you sigh

jessie rounds the corner slowly, almost like you’re going to bolt. her face softens and she leans her hip on the counter “i don’t… i don’t know if i have one”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming fic #woso x reader #woso fic #woso angst #jflemings woso #jflemings writes

246 notes · View notes

sc0tters · 1 year ago

Text

Owed It | Jack Hughes

summary: you’re less than happy with how things ended between you and Jack so when the Devils come to Vancouver to play you decide to give him a piece of your mind, but what happens when he has the same idea?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, face riding, use the of the word slut once, swearing.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: I sort of merged a request of some prompts for Jack and a part 2 of Misconceptions and Confrontations. Although I have left it on a cliff hanger I’m not going to make this into a full blown series which is why there hasn’t been a Masterlist made for this.

pt 1 | pt 3

To say you were surprised when he showed up at your door it was an understatement.

After your conversations died down in December you pushed him to the back of your mind. Sure it was hard at first as you missed staying up until the late hours of the night giggling as you would be on FaceTime with Jack. But when Tito moved to the Canucks within a month of things pretty much ending with Jack you didn't complain. The Quebec native was fun, sure you two hadn't done anything under your clothing yet but that didn't mean that there weren't a few shared kisses when you two got far too drunk for your own goods or after big games as your own celebration for him.

The Canucks player had come over to grab his suit jacket that had he had left after you two went to watch a movie "thanks again," he smiled as you walked him to the door.

The gesture was innocent as he placed his hand on the small of your back "don't mention it," you shook your head as you opened your front door "Jack?" Your eyes went wide as the two of you were met with the middle Hughes boy.

Jack mirror your reaction as he looked at Tito. The boys had met each other on numerous occasions when the Canadian was still with the Islanders "Beauvillier," he scowled as he sent the older boy a glare.

The creased shirt on the Canucks player was not helping your cause, because to the untrained eye it seriously looked like you were letting him out after you two spent the night together.

Tito wasn't one to be scared of Jack or most players for that matter but the look that he was receiving would have made him a dead man if looks could kill "I guess this is my queue to leave," he murmured as he gave you a side hug before the older boy scurried out of your apartment.

The Devils player was still trying to comprehend what he had just seen "what the fuck?" Jack let out an exasperated gasp as you pulled him into your apartment.

You let out a growl "keep your voice down," you grumbled as it was barely eight o'clock in the morning.

It caused the boy to scoff "so now you care about if others can hear you?" The hockey player shook his head as he placed his hands on his jean pockets.

The comment caused you to grow irritated "last time I checked you are not in the position to parent me," you shot back as your eyes went into a glare.

It pissed you off how nonchalant the boy was "you're the one who left me on read," Jack had been left hurt after you ignored his question asking if you were planning on joining Quinn for the Hughes Christmas family dinner, an event that she was always an honorary guest to.

You grabbed the orange juice from the counter that you had been drinking "you're the one who decided that you wanted to see other people," you pointed out as you waved your finger at him "and I'm not one for sharing." Your voice was a low grumble as you brought the glass to her lips.

Jacks once irritated look was now a smirk "were you jealous?" He asked as he knew you were talking about the rumours that he had gotten back with his ex girlfriend.

The reminder of what happened lit a fire beneath you "you know I actually missed you," you scoffed as you couldn't believe that you wanted to see him.

You saw why you hated him so much back then.

The devils player rubbed his hand against his jaw "I missed you too," he blurted out as he walked over to where you were in the kitchen

"Bullshit," you blurted out as you sent him a glare.

The Hughes brother placed his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer to him "come sit on my face and I'll show you how much I missed you." He murmured as his lips were a mere few inches from your own.

Darting your eyes from his down to his lips your voice went croaky "Jack," you mumbled as you kissed him.

Oh how you missed the feeling of those lips on yours. Weirdly enough though the the amount of hatred in it was next to nothing when compared to the first time he kissed you, dare to say it but it was almost like there was a hint of love in this kiss.

As Jack pulled away from you he caught your lower lip in between his teeth as he gave it a small tug "where's your bedroom princess?" He asked as he cocked his head.

Your furrowed your eyebrows almost like you were confused by what he was hinting at "end of the hallway," you let out a soft gasp as you realised what he was hinting to.

So like any horny girl, you locked your hand with his as you pulled him in the direction of your room "you're so eager," the hockey player teased as he reached under your baggy shirt that was clearly one of Quinn’s as he helped you out of your panties.

As you stepped out of them you couldn’t help but roll your eyes "fuck off," you warned as you shook your head.

Jacks lips turned into a pout "that's not very nice," he had this shit eating grin as he sat on your bed bringing you closer by your shirt.

With his other hand he let it trail over your slit "god Jack just," your voice was breathy as you tried to grind on the individual finger.

The boy lay down flat on your bed "come here," he motioned for you to join him on the bed.

But when you only sat next to him he wasn’t happy "up here honey," Jack tapped his lips as he hooked his hand behind your leg helping move you closer.

As you hovered above his face you couldn’t help but remember why you were so irritated "you got a lot of ner-" you were quickly cut off when Jacks tongue darted inside of you.

You never really thought that Jack was the kind of boy to be a munch but god were you wrong "right there," you groaned as his nose continued to knock your clit.

The sensations were something that you weren’t used to. Sure you had been eaten out before but never like this "fuck!" Your one had gripped at the headboard as your other locked onto his hair.

Jacks eyes never left yours “so good," you moaned as you continued to grind on his face.

His lips moved with a pop as he replaced it with his fingers "you like this don't you?" He asked in a teasing tone.

You nodded as you watched him move back to his original position "yes Jack," you repeated your words as he kissed your clit "fuck yeah I do," your voice was broken as you tried to remain calm.

The smirk on his face was clear and you had to break him "this is what you've been missing out on," your comment drew a moan from his lips.

Playing with fire seemed to be your forte "what Tito had been getting whenever he wanted." You cooed as you forced him by his hair to make him look at you.

You got your wish of pissing him off "off," Jack tapped your thigh as he pulled his mouth away from your clit.

The build to your high was quick to become unraveled "wha-" you grew surprised.

He repeated his words "get off.”

Not wanting to piss him off you listened "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you'll forget that guys name." Jack warned as he sat up to kiss your lips.

You loved the way that you could taste yourself on his lips "you want me to forget Tito?" You asked making sure that you put more effort into the boys name.

It caused Jacks eyes to grow dark "see that you've still got that mouth on you," he murmured as he ran his thumb over your lower lip.

Nodding with a smirk "would never lose it for you," you explained as the boy pulled your top over your head.

Jack let out this guttural groan "missed these," he reached out to cup your bare breasts.

It drew a giggle from your lips "just my boobs?" You asked as the hockey player got up.

The boy tucked your hair behind your ear "missed all of you," he placed a kiss on your lips.

You watched as he grabbed a condom from his jeans "you knew what was gonna happen didn't you?" A scoff fell from your lips as he nodded.

He smirked as he pulled his shirt off of his head "cause my baby is my cock hungry slut," Jack rolled the condom over his cock “want you on all fours," he added as he motioned for you to flip over.

Your lips form a pout "got a thing for not seeing my face?" You teased as you let out a giggle.

Jack was surprised that you made that comment no matter how playful your voice was "thought you didn't want me to see your face when you came.” He explained as he pulled you closer now deciding that missionary was going to be the preferred position.

His cock teased your clit before he thrusted inside of you “you gonna be a good girl and take it for me?” Jack asked as his thumbs teased your breasts.

The moan you released was your worst enemy “not a big challenge,” you were proud of yourself for getting the words out.

They seemed to egg Jack on as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. It gave him access to fuck you in a much deeper angle “you liking that don’t you?” He smiled when your face scrunched up as his hand went to your clit.

You wanted to reach up to hit him but as he increased his pace it caused your hand to land on your boob “god,” you groaned letting your fingers tease the nipple.

Jack loved the way that you were so responsive to his actions. Sure other girls had been like that in bed with him before but this all felt different.

The girl that he had been pining over since he was a kid. Yes you thought he hated you but of course your mothers were right, Jack had liked you from the moment he saw you on that swing. The reason why he pulled you off of it? That’s simply because you weren’t listening to him.

You let out a moan “you’re so good Jacky,” you cried out as you made grabby hands at him.

It might have been a childish gesture but you missed the feeling of his lips on yours “my little girl wants a kiss?” He asked as he let his lips hover above yours. The angle that he was now thrusting into caused him to be best friends with your g-spot.

Given the new level of pleasure that you were felling all you could do was nod. And luckily for you Jack wasn’t in the mood to tease you. So his lips went on yours as his tongue swiped across your lower lip as he wanted to feel the feeling of his tongue fighting with yours.

When you let out a moan you granted his wish. Jack swore that the moment forced your head into the mattress that he loved you. Seeing you in the position that you were in made him feel like he was on cloud nine “I’m gonna come,” you announced as the boys motions on your clit quickly sped up.

He wanted you to see reach your high first because Jack was literally seconds behind you “go on my pretty girl.” The hockey player smiled as he kissed your neck.

It was crazy how that little moment caused your orgasm to not only come but also it hit you like a truck.

You repeated a string of “oh my gosh” as your pussy almost suffocated his cock “this pussy was made for me fuck,” Jack cursed as his high was met shortly after yours was.

The boy let out a soft laugh as he took in your sensitive state, it was like that simply didn’t change from the previous time you two spent together.

As he slid out of you your body shuddered “sorry honey,” he apologised as he hook his fingers under your jaw so that he could place a peck on your lips.

But when your phone went off you two each looked at the other with wide eyes.

Quinn x: I’ll be up in three minutes

Quinn x: Got you breakfast.

Sure you shouldn’t have been surprised by this, it was your tradition before every home game “fuck,” you groaned as you quickly got up.

You didn’t seem to care that your legs felt like jelly as you quickly tried to get ready “what?” Jack asked as he hadn’t gotten a chance to see the messages.

You didn’t get a chance to answer his question when you heard the front door open “I’m here!” Quinn called out as he shut the door behind him.

You and Jack were now truly fucked.

#jack hughes smut #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

961 notes · View notes

hawkland · 1 year ago

Text

Art Masterpost: The Beginning Story by emmbrancsxx0 (@valleydean) Art by sidewinder (@hawkland)

When I saw an endverse story up for claims in this year's @deancashorrorfest — particularly one exploring the beginnings of how it all came to be — I knew I had to get my grubby, greedy hands on it. When I found out it was written by none other than @valleydean, I may have made some hqppy screeching noises to rival Castiel's true voice. Getting to do art for one of my favorite writers is always exciting, if sometimes anxiety-inducing, but I ended up having an absolute blast working on these with Mallory and am really happy with how they turned out. Thank you for being such an amazing partner to work with, and I'm so excited for everyone else getting to read the story now!

Thank you as well to @kingdumbass for organizing Horrorfest once again, and creating one of my favorite little Destiel communities on the net. It's always a ton of fun and I love how you keep the server going & engaging year round.

Some rambling comments on the art & my process below the cut.

As usual these were all done in watercolor with a little bit of black & white acrylic pen work for fine details and lines. I used rough/cold press paper for all of these to keep a consistent feeling and because it's always my favorite for doing any portraits and where I want a lot of blending control.

The hardest thing for me was deciding which of the many memorable scenes and moments I wanted to illustrate in the time I had available. I had a pretty clear vision for the title art early on: to show Dean & Cas at the beginning of it all, with a collage of elements of destruction behind them and doing the title text in the "Croatoan graffiti" style. There were a bunch of different reference shots combined for that one: screencaps from 5x04, a later-season shot of Dean & Cas walking together to get their positions how I wanted, etc. My Cas "face" reference was actually from Stonehenge Apocalypse as I wanted him looking a little more human/hopeful than standard s4-5 Cas as he's pretty low on grace but still has a little "angel mojo" left.

(As Mallory commented when I shared it as a WIP, "That's a man who's about to be destroyed!" :D D:)

I'm also really glad I was able to get the painting to Mallory at DC-Con! You can see in the pic that it's pretty big (16"x20") to get all that detail in!

For the next piece, there's a small scene of Dean and Cas on the road under smoke-filled skies, past a "God Saves" billboard that just struck me. I'd just driven out to Pittsburgh and back on the PA Turnpike so used some quick reference snaps I took combined with photos of the hazy skies from the Canadian wildfires earlier this year to get the atmosphere I wanted. I tried to keep some of the same washed-out colors and feeling of the title piece for that, save the color of the sky.

For the rest, I wanted to do one piece each of Cas and Dean at critical moments in their journey through the story. Cas facing himself in the shattered glass of a pharmacy cabinet was a moment I knew I had to try to capture. It reminded me of that amazing shot of Misha in Gotham Knights, with Harvey and the smashed mirror, so that was definitely in my mind as a visual reference.

Cas himself is a combination of some Purgatory screencaps and some out-of-character Misha pics from here and there to get his hair the way I wanted it to look (even if I ended up painting over most of it with interference silver watercolor to create the effect of the shattered glass. Here's an in-progress look:

The Dean rooftop piece is one I'd had in my head as soon as I read the passage in the story, but it was the last piece I tackled. The city in flames behind Dean was pretty much done in one shot as a spontaneous wet-in-wet wash...though it was a little eerie and unsettling working on it this past week with current events playing out on the tv while I painted.

Finally, I really wanted to do a piece showing Dean and Cas as they are near the end of the story compared to how they started out. This one came together in a really fast burst of inspiration - I think one day drawing and two days painting because it's smaller than the others (12"x6") and I wanted it to be really close up and intimate. Drawing:

Poor boys have been through a lot. And it's only going to get worse )-:

Anyway, that's more than enough from me. Have you gone to start reading the story yet? If not, go there now! Bookmark! Read! Leave lots of love in the comments! Reblog and check out the rest of this year's Horrorfest collection while you're there!

#deancashorrorfest #my art #sidewinder art #hawkland art #deancas #destiel art #watercolor painting

88 notes · View notes

glassdiy · 1 year ago

Text

We are pleased to showcase our extensive high-quality architectural hardware and custom glass solutions in this video. TAG Hardware, a prominent manufacturer and supplier located in Canada, is your one-stop shop for all things glass-related. Explore our product categories and how they may improve the aesthetics and functionality of any architecture project:

Glass Fabrication: Exceptional precision and workmanship combine to create unique glass solutions for every purpose. Our glass fabrication services transcend expectations, from custom-cut glass panels to elaborate patterns.

Frameless Shower Doors: Our superior frameless shower doors will transform your bathrooms into exquisite sanctuaries. Experience the pleasure of a streamlined design, improved water resistance, and simple upkeep.

Storefronts and Entrances: Make a strong first impression with aesthetically appealing and safe storefronts and entrances. Our custom solutions blend beauty and durability to give your business a welcoming and secure facade.

Architectural Railings: With our excellent architectural railings, you can improve the safety and aesthetic of your stairs, balconies, and terraces. You may select from various materials and designs to suit your architectural idea.

Sliding Door Systems: With our stylish and effective sliding door systems, you can embrace adaptability and space optimization. Our sliding doors reinvent modern living and working environments for residential or commercial applications.

TAG Hardware takes pride in our dedication to excellence and client satisfaction. Our skilled staff is committed to offering personalized solutions suited to your needs.

Visit our website at www.taghardware.ca to learn more about our comprehensive range of products and services.

0 notes

madarasgirl · 1 year ago

Text

A Night for Hunting Ch.5- Obsession isn't Love

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, yandere, jealous vampire, centipedes, alcohol consumption & intoxication. Please take the Uber or stay over with your host after a night out and don’t try to walk home alone when you’re almost blackout drunk.

Btw I believe vampires like Alucard are extremely smell-driven. I hope the wait for this chapter was worth it! Happy long weekend Canadian and American readers! Words: 5029 On AO3

A rustle of cloth, a merging with the outer brick walls. With the grace of a summer breeze, the mass of blackness was inside, brushing past the quaint decor of a modest apartment. The vampire was one with the darkness, crawling along the walls, skimming the surfaces of your home to survey his territory. His findings were immediately apparent. He scented the elaborate floral arrangement upon phasing through the walls and making his entrance and approached to inspect it. It was a lovely display of blossoms, dense clusters of blue hyacinths in full bloom threw off their sweet, earthy smells, mixed with orangey-pink roses and dramatic peonies. The arrangement sent a gentle fragrance, which was quite pleasant, wafting throughout your home. The only issue was it also carried the hint of an unfamiliar male's scent. The vampire frowned.

You weren't there, unexpectedly. Alucard spent several minutes poking around, checking the windows and locks as he did the very first time he invited himself in to ensure they were secure. Everything else was as they should be. He glanced once more at the neatly arranged bundle of cut flowers in a vase.

With a swish of his duster tails, the vampire vanished from your home without a word, setting out to haunt the streets and look for his human. ---------------------

“Cheers!” You laughed heartily as you and your family clanged your glasses together. Dinner unfurled over the course of hours, where you noisily exchanged recent amusing stories to catch up. One of them retold the story of their nurse colleague telling the unit administration of a patient’s family complaining about wanting reimbursement for the deceased patient’s bursted breast implants after CPR, only for the admin to find out it was a joke the nurse made up when they were finally ready to go talk to the family. You were howling in laughter because they couldn’t not take such a complaint seriously! In retaliation, the admin arranged for one of the most serious attending physicians to inform that nurse they were being reported to Legal, freaking the nurse out, only to find out immediately that that was also a prank. It was brilliant. You nearly snorted your drink in laughter. The restaurant atmosphere was raucous and electric, but alas, all good things came to an end.

Finally, you had to bid your family a bittersweet goodbye with numerous embraces. Everyone was too drunk to drive home, which was to be expected after not seeing each other in so long. It was a splendid gathering, but maybe you overdid the drinks despite having eaten so much. You waved off their suggestions to book an Uber, stating it was still much earlier in the night than when you normally headed home after work. They were worrying for nothing. The walk will help you clear the alcohol.

You exited at the bus stop nearest your home. For once, there were people around. They chattered with the same excited buzz that mirrored your own earlier. The local shops remained open at this hour to serve the nighttime crowd, yet you couldn’t place what it was that felt off. Brushing the vague feeling of apprehension aside, you rode the high off the fantastic get-together with a feverish spirit and a spring to your steps.

It was now warm day and night. The streets were pleasantly calm despite the occasional clamour. It was nice to see signs of life as you headed home earlier for once. Even if that irritating vampire came to stalk you, so what? You felt as if nothing could dampen your glow tonight.

You were only tipsy, which was the best state of alcohol consumption to be in, in your opinion. Your steps remained steady as you thought about a multitude of things –what activities to pass the time with tomorrow, what to eat, whether you should work extra shifts this week.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you felt the blanket of inebriation fall over you. Your thoughts wandered and seemed less your own. Your gait grew unsteady with more stumbling and weaving as you continued the journey.

You swore you were only tipsy not too long ago. It was an interesting sensation when your mind was still aware of the body not entirely obeying. Luckily, you were able to place one foot in front of the other to take the nearly automated path home, which you knew like the back of your hand, even with the mind becoming clouded and not operating completely voluntarily.

The excitement of the day finally caught up and you were spent. You wanted nothing more than to take off your makeup and fall naked into the welcoming softness of your bed. Closing your eyes briefly felt great, but you abandoned that after a few attempts. You were so much more nauseous with your closed eyes. Uh oh.

Step. Step. Placing a hand on the wall to steady yourself, you looked around. Good, there was the supermarket, followed by the stop sign with an ad for a dog walker nailed to it, as you expected. You were almost home.

It was so quiet now that you reached this part of the neighbourhood. Normally, you were hyper-aware of your surroundings during your nighttime commutes, especially after that vampire started following you around last year, but tonight, you didn’t even hear the leaves rustling or the typical sounds of wildlife and cars. Were you just too drunk tonight to notice the things you should?

How much did you drink? When was the last time you found yourself in this sorry state? Now that you focused on it, you felt the wind blowing and finally rustling the thick foliage of the trees overhead, only gently, yet it fed the nausea. You shoved it down and kept stumbling. Almost there. --------------------

Alucard drifted through the skies, occasionally landing to survey your usual commute routes before alighting once more. It was too soon for you to be coming home on a work night, yet he hadn’t detected your scent at all along your preferred routes to work earlier. It seemed you were free tonight, but weren’t home either.

Twice his supernatural senses identified the signs of ghouls in the vicinity and he made a detour to dispose of them. Several shots to the head each, before he continued his search silently. In truth, only one bullet was required to end either of the ghouls, but Alucard was never one to be frugal with his silver. His jaw tightened. Where there were ghouls, there were usually more, maybe even a vampire.

As he circled restlessly back into your neighbourhood, he happened upon your scent in the air after too long and closed in on his little one, only to be overcome by the sweet smell of alcohol and the stench of vomit. He crept up to examine the sad sight of you hunched over and heaving to dispel the poison in your body. It seemed you were empty, so you stood to continue shuffling along as if nothing had happened after a swipe of the mouth. He was strangely irritated. Were you even aware of the risks you took tonight?

“How pitiful. And utterly stupid of you.”

Oh. You felt so ill. Did someone say something? Very belatedly, you turned to address the noise. Something huge and red was approaching from behind and you tensed up, fearing the worst. Oh. You tried to focus. It was only Alucard. A confusing feeling of relief washed over you, which was almost comical. Since when did seeing your stalker feel reassuring?

The vampire caught the passing sentiment before his attention snapped back as you started giggling. “I can see your eyes in the shadows. You don’t scare me anymore.” Your palm pressed against your lips as you kept laughing to yourself.

Crimson eyes narrowed slightly as he loomed near. “You were not home tonight,” he murmured.

"No really? You aren’t my dad. I don't have to justify where I am to you," you slurred and wagged a finger at him, then turned and sashayed away like a queen with the vampire following a few paces behind.

Step, step, step.

Perhaps you weren’t as close to home as you thought. Did you remember the path wrong? No, the supermarket, the stop sign. You sighed. So tired. It felt like your mind was wrapped in cotton candy. Squinting, you sat down gingerly on the curb to think about where you were.

“I’m only taking a short break,” you garbled to your companion.

You fell asleep sitting on the curb, leaving the nightwalker staring incredulously, even if it wasn’t apparent on his face. Now that you were away from the pool of vomit, he detected the scent of other men on you. He frowned again. He didn’t like waiting, and the irritation grew stronger with each whiff.

You eventually came to and started to walk again, only to sit down with crossed legs in the middle of the street for another break not long after as you wondered why this was taking so long.

This was ridiculous. Alucard stood over you, bent down, and plucked you off the ground, swinging you smoothly into a bridal carry. You were already blacked out. Distaste that even the vomit didn’t elicit nipped at his consciousness, but with your comfortable weight in his arms and his scent rubbing off on your body, everything became more tolerable.

Your eyes were shut and being off your feet was comfortable, but the repetitive up and down movement was jarring. Why were you sloshing around up and down? Overcome with nausea, you couldn’t hold it anymore. “!!!” You threw up against a velvety, solid surface and felt instant relief before fading away.

Having arrived at your building, Alucard huffed at the odor and the inconvenience of your vomit on his chest. He gently placed you on the ground and turned immaterial so that the emesis puddled at the ground before he reformed a few paces away and picked you back up.

A silver vehicle slowed as it passed him. What a bother. He seemed to be quick to aggravate tonight. Alucard slipped off his orange-tinted sunglasses with an extra hand and held the driver captive with his bewitching gaze when they ignorantly made direct eye contact.

There is nothing wrong.

T-there is…n-nothing wrong. A small voice repeated.

The vehicle drove off, leaving the two of you alone once more. He stared at your delicate features. Disregarding the show you put on earlier, you looked peaceful now. The handsome vampire sauntered to the side of the building and casually strolled up the wall under the cover of darkness before stepping onto the balcony. With just a thought, it unlocked itself and he brought his cargo inside to carefully unload onto the couch.

He was on the other couch as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest and listened to your rhythmic breathing. Somehow you managed to spare your clothing a bath in your own stomach contents. His eyes narrowed, his lips a thin line as the stench of foreign males on your body invaded his senses again. The flowers only annoyed him now. His fingers tapped along the armrest as he kept taking in your features. --------------------

It must have been only around a quarter hour later when you stirred. You were dazed and jumpy when you made out the glowing crimson orbs fixed on you. With a nervous glance back at Alucard's inhuman gaze, you stumbled through the dark, making your way to the washroom for a quick shower and to remove the makeup. You experienced an episode of dry-heaving, but thankfully, there was nothing left to hurl. You brushed your teeth.

You were indeed less intoxicated now. How humiliating to be seen the way you were. Still…Alucard helped keep you safe tonight while you floundered about the streets like a proper drunkard. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror and acknowledged how you looked as terrible as you felt. Some food would help settle your stomach right now.

As you made your way down the hall, the lights came on for you. Alucard’s doing. There he was, staring imperiously at you with his legs crossed. The hat and jacket were still on.

“I…um…”

“...”

“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Um, I don’t want to look at alcohol right now haha,” you stated sheepishly.

“...” His eyes were so very red and luminous. Did he look displeased?

Unsure of how to act right now, you broke eye contact first and looked everywhere except in his direction. “How about something to eat?” You awkwardly stuck a hashbrown and some frozen nuggets into the small countertop convection oven and waited for him to say something.

“Attempting to come home alone in your state was unwise, human.”

Part of you wanted to argue, only because that was how you were used to interacting with him, but he was right. You’ve made better life decisions before.

“It was…” Your head hung low. “Thank you for bringing me home tonight,” you mumbled.

Alucard’s gaze softened, even if the tingle of vexation remained at the back of his mind. His eyes closed as he exhaled. “Coffee. Just black.” Crimson irises spun into a lovely sunset hue.

Your brows lifted at his sudden change in demeanor as you looked back at him before rushing to prepare his beverage. French press was your preferred method. Soon enough, you had a steaming cup of black in front of him.

You sat by yourself at the table while nibbling on your small portion of greasy comfort food. It was stranger than ever tonight when you didn’t feel like snapping at your guest. Was this creature worried about you? Why did he help you? Was it so that only he got to have you? All he ever did was torment you, but tonight, through the fog of the fragmented pieces you remembered, he was almost…kind.

The coffee smelled a blend of smoky and nutty, a heavenly mixture nearly as good as what Walter served. The taste…Alucard smiled bitterly. It must be delicious, but it was nothing more than piss water to his vampiric taste buds. The joys of food consumption were a distant memory from lifetimes ago and one of the few things he missed about his human life. Watching the effort you put into preparing each meal, studying your eating habits and your enjoyment of your meals truly made him nostalgic.

“How is the coffee?” You ventured a question.

“Excellent.” Alucard finished the glass without a hint of betraying his true thoughts on your first demonstration of hospitality towards him.

So vampires can drink coffee. You wondered what else he consumed besides the obvious. Chewing lightly on the corner of your lower lip, you crossed your ankles, then uncrossed them immediately when it didn't feel as comfortable as expected. There was a spider crawling across the corner of the ceiling. You brought your gaze back down from the arachnid to stare at the cuticles of your nails.

It was so quiet tonight, you realized as you shifted your weight again. Was there no one else at home on the floor? As always, he was staring so intently, like he was trying to bore holes through your head. You swallowed before getting up and going over to your new flowers, missing your guest's deep frown.

His human was anxious. You were, as was often the case, intensely uncomfortable in his presence. Not only did the sour tang waft off your pores, you wouldn't stop fidgeting in your seat, although he wasn't even attempting the things he usually did to distress you. Alucard's frown grew as he watched you put your nose in the blooms to sniff and then sigh.

How nauseating. "Lovely blooms, little one."

"Yes they were a gift from a friend." Your expression was soft.

You were recalling another man fondly, one you were barely acquaintances with. A friend. His eyes hardened into slits, nostrils flaring at the scent he was forced to inhale a thousand times more powerfully than you ever could, even from a distance.

His satisfaction about your new hospitality was gradually fading away, only to be replaced with inexplicable agitation. Gloved fingers drummed restlessly against the plush armrest.

"Human courtship is such a delicate ritual, entirely lacking in creativity or passion," he commented.

You tensed. "It was a sweet gesture. Not everyone is as uncouth as some."

A challenge? A devilish grin painted his lips and he chuckled in anticipation. He loved when you fought.

"Your florals, the prized jewels cut from their mother plants at the height of their prime? Doomed to perish within the week. Elegant as they are, they're a fleeting beauty, nothing more than the living dead clinging pathetically to a semblance of life," he stated wryly.

There it was, the vampire's freaky smile. Reminding yourself that nothing had changed between you, that he was still an infuriating ass, you retorted, "Human courtship should be slow. Morbid as your comparison was, flowers are a symbol of romance and love, not that someone like you would know about those things, even if you were human at some point."

"Love?” He cocked his head. "I do know of that emotion." His eyes flashed dangerously as he rose from the couch to stalk closer with his fangs bared, causing you to stagger backwards from your spot in alarm. The chair you sat in earlier fell over with a clatter, and for several seconds, you stared at each other silently. You didn't dare blink in those moments as your breath hitched, your pupils were dilated and veins coursing with adrenaline, the entirety of your attention focused on the supernatural creature who stood like a reaper in your living room.

The truce was over, you realized, and you fought to blink back tears. Alucard didn't do more to threaten you, but the situation took a nosedive for the worse during the last few minutes of exchange. Feeling like you were backed into a corner with no way to turn the conversation around, you excused yourself meekly and headed for bed, exhausted, the vampire luckily not pressing you more for now, though he tracked your movement with predatory precision as you brushed past him.

Alucard watched the bedroom door shut, followed by the distinctive click of the lock turning, as if that would keep a monster out. But you knew as well as he did that the locked door was merely symbolic. He was unwelcome in the inner haven of your refuge. He tasted the salt of your tears as clearly as he heard the sobs from beyond that door. The trail of fear you left in your wake annoyed him right now, with this revelation only serving to annoy him even further in a cyclical loop. What was this feeling? For him, your fear was normally a reliable source of arousal and delight.

He redirected his thoughts away from the troublesome emotion and replayed tonight’s events. You unknowingly put yourself in danger, not only from the undead. The night streets were not a place for a naive little human such as yourself. There were plenty of unsavoury outcomes he listed to himself when he was combing the streets for signs of your presence, only to finally find you delirious from drink and vulnerable. It was a relief no one else got to you first.

After the shower, you were thankfully cleansed of the filth of another male's touch, yet you also removed his scent from your skin. He couldn’t find the word to describe the feeling, but he was malcontent with tonight's turn of events.

Historically, he was not averse to sharing his human companions. Man, woman, something else, it mattered little to him. There was a hedonistic gluttony to enjoying the flesh of multiple humans simultaneously. It wasn't completely true when he said he didn't eat human flesh. Through lidded eyes, he imagined the taste of your skin and salivated. How sweet would the slick of your flower be? What did your petals look like? Yet the idea of another’s touch on your skin was simply distasteful. He growled in a low, threatening pitch that was nearly imperceptible to human ears.

He was a king. But he could be an uncouth savage as well.

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

You woke up in the middle of the night feeling parched. Despite the snack earlier, you still felt the hangover developing. There was a pounding headache in your temples and persistent nausea that made it feel like your stomach was going to devour itself. The clock read 0440. Even if your room was pitch black thanks to the blackout curtains, it was almost sunrise during these warm summer months and the vampire surely must be gone. You needed some water.

It was still dark outside when you emerged from slumber and felt around along the wall for where you expected the light switch to be, only to have something hairy rush across your fingers. You pulled back in shock. What was that? Something small and fuzzy brushed against your foot and you shot backwards, crushing another little thing underfoot with a quiet crunch.

Then you heard it, the eerie scuttering of legs…like millions of tiny taps that coalesced into a symphony of rustling noise. You stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, trying to make sense of what was going on to cause such a disturbance when the lights suddenly came back on by themselves.

You stayed frozen as you blinked blindly in the garish light before letting out a soundless gasp at the disgusting sight that greeted you. Unable to process it, you only trembled in horrified disbelief. They were everywhere, thousands, no, possibly hundreds of thousands or more, of centipedes scampering freely, covering every surface in your home. They formed a writhing, undulating mass of scurrying legs that made the walls come alive with movement. More daring specimens ran across your feet and you madly kicked your feet to keep them clear.

It was revolting, truly a thing of nightmares.

Finally, you screamed.

“A-ah…AHH. AHHHHH. AHHHHHHHH.” With your lips tremoring, you caught your breath as the realization of what you were looking at settled in. Centipedes. Why centipedes?! You hated the nasty critters –the more legs, the more harrowing they were. Several leggy abominations tried to scurry up your legs.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”

If this was a joke, he went way too far. You screamed and screamed and screamed, until the damned beast stole your voice to silence you, and still you tried to scream.

Thousands of eyes opened on the walls and floor of your home, and he appeared in the middle of it all, surrounded by an ominous crimson aura and a gigantic eye on his chest, his pet centipedes crawling up his torso.

You clenched your eyes to protect yourself from the sickening sight, your revulsion rolling off of you in waves as your throat finally gave in. You were coughing and hyperventilating as he approached with a frown and furrowed brows while you batted wildly at the air to keep him at bay. At last you found your voice again and you shrieked for him to leave with a hoarse voice.

“What is wrong with you?! Nevermind, just get out! I don’t want to see you!” Your eyes snapped open and you stared at him with a frenzied look. “I’m not yours or your toy! You’re just this thing that follows me around and won’t let me be!” You sobbed, your hands flapping in the air as you gestured to make your point clearer.

When the monster didn’t say anything, you continued. "I don't want you! You can have anyone you want, just leave me alone!" Your voice broke and you trailed off with a whimper as you buried your face in your hands and wept in despair.

The centipedes dissolved into nothing like they were never there. The eyes disappeared. Alucard took another step towards you awkwardly, intending to provide comfort, only to realize he didn’t know how. Your tears bothered him, confused him, and he was stung by the rejection. He somehow didn’t like how he upset you this time.

“Why can’t you just find another toy to play with? I don’t want to be part of your twisted games anymore.” Your face must be so swollen from the crying. Your vision was blurred from the tears and you could hardly breathe through the snot and the hiccups.

There was banging on your door. “Is everything okay in there?” It must be the friendly neighbour down the hall coming to check in on the commotion. You gasped and turned to Alucard with a distraught expression as you swiped at your eyes, hoping against all odds he wasn’t going to retaliate against the good Samaritan for the disturbance.

His face was shadowed. All these disruptions tonight. All is well. Leave us. He directed the thought towards the nosy human outside in the hall.

The neighbour knocked again, albeit more hesitantly while calling out your name. Alucard’s lips curled. He strode to the entrance, shocking you out of your stupor and you rushed after him in dread, grabbing his hand to stop him from…you weren’t sure. Was he going to kill your friend on the other side of the door? All you knew was that Alucard was extremely dangerous right now, but your weight did nothing to slow him.

He ripped open the door and glared at your neighbour while you dangled off his arm. The smell hit him. This…was the same man who gave you those fucking flowers, who you thought of fondly earlier. He hissed and the man lurched back from the towering menace in front of him. The hiss warped into a growl and the vampire took another step forward, sadistic pleasure filling his mind as the scent of absolute fear from the craven piece of rubbish permeated the hall.

“Alucard! Alucard!” A familiar voice called him with urgency. It was a voice he dreamt of when his dreams weren’t filled with violence, pain, and humiliation. It was you.

Alucard came back to himself and saw you. He glanced at the man outside, who had fallen over on his ass and urinated himself, before looking back at you. You were still tugging at his gangly arm, staring at him with huge frightened eyes, an imploring look in your face that begged him to stop. He composed himself. His human was begging him for something only he could provide, even if it was something as simple as ‘not ending the life of the other man in front of him.’ You even used his name.

He nearly laughed, the crimson in his eyes were molten. “There is nothing wrong here. Forget everything that happened,” he ordered the beleaguered human man sitting in rank piss, who gawped at the profane beast in a trance before the door shut on his face.

Inside the condo, Alucard turned his attention back to you with a sideways glance. You thought he didn't want you, Alucard realized. You assumed he was still only toying with you, that you were just a quarry animal for him to trifle with in his spare time. What was this feeling? This unpalatable feeling of distress at the thought of you by another’s side without him?

“...You…are not a mere toy.”

You remained petrified after just narrowly averting one disaster. Your puffy red eyes met his. “Then what am I, if not a toy? What is this?” You asked with a whisper and released his arm.

His gaze flickered briefly to the floral arrangement, but you caught it. Realization dawned as you suddenly understood what just happened tonight with clarity. All this, because of some bloody flowers? He was silently looking at you with his hands at his side, his head at a slight tilt.

You went rigid. It was with trepidation regarding any more confrontation when you started speaking again, trying desperately to put your rambling thoughts into coherent sentences. “No, no, no, no, no, don’t say it. What you’re feeling, it’s just possessiveness and jealousy. You don’t actually care about human life. A selfish monster with no obligations or morals, as if something like you would ever understand what love is. You can pretend, but in the end, your obsession is nothing but a poor imitation."

The creature’s expression fell the tiniest fraction. It was indiscernible if you weren't already looking at him through glassy eyes. You would feel guilty about it if you weren't so incensed by his idea of a joke and drained by all that transpired.

He brushed away the disappointment from your rejection. Possession. Yes, it was what the vampire King wanted, to have you. He needed to show you. Pushing down the discomfort, he reacted aggressively to your words, a gloved hand shooting out to scruff you by the front of your shirt and pull you roughly to him.

“You are mine.”

Cold lips slammed against yours with a growl. You slapped him and staggered away, the sharp sound of the impact cutting through the muted background noises of your home.

"Get out," you ground out. His three simple words confirmed everything you said moments ago.

The vampire stalked towards you and you felt the chill down your spine. Hellfire. Those were the eyes of a remorseless murderer, but you didn’t back down from the threat.

“What? Are you going to kill me?”

He snorted and caged you against the wall with his arms. “As if you are worth killing. Treat your life with more reverence, foolish human.”

Wearing an aggrieved smile, his gaze ran slowly down the contours of your face. The rising sun casted a rosy hue across the sky, his body backlit by the gentle golden rays of promise. You couldn’t help but stare. The vampire looked nearly ethereal in this light.

Alucard closed his eyes and withdrew. There was nothing more to be said and he should be returning. A new day was dawning. Sparing one last look back at you, he disappeared and left you alone, as you had wished.

~To be Continued~

Next chapter: The Living Dead

#alucard fanfiction #alucard x reader #yandere alucard #alucard hellsing #alucard x you #alucard #hellsing alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fandom

114 notes · View notes

flownwrong · 5 months ago

Text

no tether (star trek: discovery fic)

Burnham/Rayner, rated M; tags: post s05e05 Mirrors, PWP, praise kink, ~3200 words

A/N: Fair warning: I'm not very familiar with Star Trek universe. I am here mainly through the misfortune of being obsessed with a certain Canadian actor. So if anything doesn't make sense — you know who to blame.

read on ao3

The hour is just about to turn from late into early when Michael finds him tucked into a narrow nook, in a hallway that's mostly deserted during all shifts.

He's sitting on the floor, tucked into the corner, one knee pulled up, a hand with a drink resting on it. Likely too wired to sleep, too suffocated in the solitude of his quarters. That's why she comes here, anyway. It's rare for them to be off the bridge at the same time; figures that they would end up in the same spot.

She approaches slowly, makes sure she doesn't creep up on him. Rayner doesn't move, eyes fixed on the floor, or, no—his profile is illuminated by soft bluish light. A screen, then.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the wall. "You wouldn't take the chair, but you'd steal my hiding spot, huh?"

"Good morning to you too, Captain." Rayner looks up and raises his glass in a toast. "Hiding spot?"

"Well, isn't that what you're here for?"

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Oh, I'm just catching up on my reading."

"Kellerun classics?"

His mouth lifts at one side, that quiet pleased almost-smile she never quite expects. "Terran, actually."

She leans down to see, raises her eyebrows. "Odyssey. You're full of surprises."

He shuts it down and shrugs. "A good book can save a life." He gives her a flash of a wink.

Michael laughs, caught off guard. He watches her and takes a sip of his drink.

She lowers herself to the floor and scoots until her back meets the opposite wall. The toes of their boots touch in the middle. He doesn't move away.

"So, what's keeping you up?"

"Could ask you the same question." Rayner's eyes are fixed on her face, intense, and for a second, she struggles for words.

"Nothing. Everything. All of this"—she waves her hand, trying to point it all out, the rest of the ship, the mission—"is new. Like nothing I've done before."

He huffs an approximation of a laugh. "You could say that." He doesn't sound nearly as bitter as before, and it's a relief she didn't know she craved.

Still, she's not sure where they stand on this, where the lines are drawn, here, huddled away when they should be sleeping. She clears her throat.

"The things I saw—in the time cycles, and today."

She tries to think of an explanation. Rayner keeps silent, waiting.

"The could have beens. They're hard to shut out."

He shrugs and looks up, out the viewport. "Yeah. Never did well with those."

"Neither have I." It's late, and they're both exhausted, and she's been through way too much weird to bother, so she nudges his boot with her own. "What are you going to do? After, I mean?"

He hums dismissively. "Does it matter?"

Yes, Michael wants to say, of course it does. I want to know what you're waiting for. I want to know if you'll stay. Instead, she says, "Oh? Nowhere you would go? Home?"

Rayner looks uncomfortable, hunches in on himself. When he speaks, his voice is low, like he hopes she won't hear. "Kind of supposed I'd go out before I go home."

She'd be taken aback, except it sounds exactly like him. "Just like that?"

He gives her a challenging look, a rare one that make his face unreadable. "Would you choose any different?"

Would she? He's thought about this, Michael realises, is used to the thought. She forgets, sometimes, how much older he is. Her thoughts are filled with hope, fear, longing—she hasn't chosen how she wants to go, not yet.

Still, there's something here he isn't sharing. She files it away, out of both curiosity and necessity, and reaches out to squeeze his knee. "I don't believe you."

"No?" His sharp features are tense, his cheeks hollowed like he's gritting his teeth.

"No. For one, it would take the heat death of the universe to put you down."

He snorts. "That's flattering."

She ignores him, goes on while she has an in, "But what I mean is that there's too much wonder in you, Rayner. You don't want to go down fighting. You're out here because you want this"—she nods at the stars—"to last." And there's something you left undone, she doesn't add.

He worries at his bottom lip, one of his minute tells. His eyelashes brush his cheeks, a startlingly gentle image.

Michael tilts her head, trying to catch his eye. "Am I wrong?"

Rayner's still for a moment, then shakes his head, lips a thin line, like it costs him. "No. You're not."

"Yeah." She strokes her thumb lightly across his knee. His skin feels feverish through the fabric of his uniform, and she remembers the Kellerun run hotter than humans. He looks down at her hand, swipes his eyes up, over her knees, her chest, shoulders. When he meets her gaze, very slowly, there's a quiet, almost sweet expectation in his look.

She clears her throat. "You haven't finished your drink."

"You want it?" His smile is soft.

She hums an agreement and reaches for his glass, less than a finger of light amber liquid left in it, and he passes it carefully, his fingertips brushing hers. She expects the drink to be acidic, sweet and excessive in all the ways something called citrus mash should be, since she heard the name about seventeen times today, but it's—wow, it's a whiskey. Strong, fragrant, with an aftertaste she can't place, a sharp burn.

She coughs. "Wow. This is good."

"Fair warning, this one kicks." He looks pleased at her surprise, his whole shape looser, waiting.

Michael shakes her head, showing him what feels like the tenth smile of the night. "Thanks for the heads-up. It's good."

"Yeah? There's more where that came from."

"Not the bar?"

"Oh, no. My quarters."

"Oh," she says, appreciative. "You have a bottle with you?"

"As I learned today, keeping a good bar can prove motivational," he says, dead serious.

"Very practical."

His eyes flicker down to her hands and back. "What can I say, I'm a practical guy."

She chuckles. "Yeah, you are."

They breathe in silence for a little while, just watching each other, and Michael knows it will have to be her call. And, oh—she wants it. Wants to not think about the clues, and failed relationships, and the bridge, wants to feel good and make someone feel good—and this is oddly uncomplicated. If there's anyone on this ship she can trust with this, it's Rayner.

"I could join you. For another glass, I mean." She counts down the steps. Three.

He gives her a hard, no-bullshit look. Waiting for her to cave. When all she does is look back, he says, "I suppose you could." Two.

They get up silently, in sync. It feels good, them on the same page, an already familiar hum, the only new thing in it the simmering anticipation.

One.

As soon as they clear his door, Rayner turns, blocking her way into the room. "Captain."

"Michael," she says. She won't do this in command, not to him, and not to herself.

He nods. "Michael. Do you actually want me to pour you a drink?"

An out, then. For her or for himself, though, she's not sure. She's halfway through a no, not really when he raises a hand, halting her words, staring her down. Fine.

"Yes," she offers, as firm as she can. "Later."

He watches her with narrowed eyes for a second, then turns to go in. She catches his wrist and tugs until he looks back at her. "This isn't part of your job," she says, wanting him to know—he must, but this isn't something she can afford to misjudge.

He barks out a laugh, looking genuinely amused. "That what you think of me?"

"Shush," she says, before he locks down and this whole thing breaks. He looks shocked at the word. "This is not part of your job."

She holds very still until he tugs his wrist free, his mouth twitching in an abortive smile. "Fine." He raises his chin, but his eyes are still laughing.

Rayner drops the empty glass onto a bedside table, dims the lights, disappears into the bathroom. She lingers back, takes it in. She expected his room to be stark, impersonal. It's not. Mostly dark, now that he's turned the warm lights down. There's a soft-looking blue throw, not Starfleet issue, over the bed that's tucked neatly against the wall. An unfamiliar vine with round purple leaves framing the viewport above. A bottle with two matching glasses in the cabinet on the far wall. It's sparse, but nothing like the ascetic box she'd imagined.

He walks back into the room, barefoot, and stops, a little awkward, two steps in front of the bed, not wanting to—presume? Michael realises just then she was hoping—once they got past the questions—for urgent, for tumble into the room, fall into bed, shut everything out sex, and barely manages not to laugh out loud. Good pick of a partner here, Burnham.

So she steps closer and looks up at him. He's tall enough that she's used to it, but up close it's a new feeling. He seems to be holding his breath when she raises her hands to his neck. She undoes his collar and keeps hold of it—she could probably drag him wherever she wants like this. He exhales on a laughter, like he's getting the joke, and folds himself down to sit on the bed.

"Here," she unzips his jacket, slides it down his shoulders, until he shrugs out of it. It's weird to be undressing someone wearing the same uniform. She wonders how long it's been since he wore anything but. She bares his soft undershirt, regulation, same as hers. He smells good, spicy, not unlike his drink. Getting to look down at him—she's struck by his angles, his pale shoulders almost narrow. Nothing like Book.

And here's the truth of it, isn't it? She could say she's getting it out of her system, a distraction from the one thing she can't have, and it wouldn't be a lie, but—she wants Rayner, here. He's sharp, and audacious, and oddly easy to provoke into uncertainty, and his eyes go warm and a little lost when someone—when she's proud of him.

So she reaches out, palm on his cheek, and he turns immediately to mouth at it, slow, eyes fluttering closed. It's dizzying. "Good," she says, has to say, and he shudders with it. She traces the edge of his ear with a finger, light, sees the start of a blush right at the tip. He leans into it. This, here. Michael wonders why he's doing this. What it is he's looking for, or trying to shut out.

His eyes still closed, Rayner opens his mouth to speak—and she drops her knee onto the bed, between his legs, warm and close. His eyes fly open, bright and stunned. She slides her hands back to cradle the base of his skull. The short buzz of his hair there is soft, silky.

"Okay," he says, and moves in, stretching up to press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. She draws a sharp breath. Good instincts. He moves lower. Her clavicle. The dip between her breasts. She isn't guiding him. His lips are hot through the fabric covering her ribs, hotter on her belly. He goes to slide off the bed, to his knees, and she strokes the back of his neck, and doesn't let him. He scoffs—of course he does, and looks up with almost comical annoyance.

Michael scoffs right back. "You don't hold back in uniform—this is where you start?"

Rayner laughs then, full-on, a grin splitting his face. She's heard his annoyed laugh, incredulous laugh, hiding-something-important laugh. This one is a first. "Me on your knees for you is holding back?"

Blunt—there we go, blunt is familiar territory, and she raises her eyebrows at him. "Do what you want, not what you think I want, yeah?"

He watches her for a second, like he's considering the concept, then slowly, deliberately sits back, spreads his legs further.

"Good," she says again, presses her knee right where he's—yes, hard for it, and waits out his low, uneven moan.

"Come on," Michael says, shucks everything off until she's left in her top and underwear. He grabs at her blindly then, reaches her elbows, her waist, slides further up the bed and lies down, pulling her in. She climbs up after him, not quite straddling his hips, says, "come on, Rayner,do your part," and he rises just enough to match her, bare but for his uniform top and shorts, allows her hands to settle at his face again. She thumbs over his cheekbones, over the scar crossing his eyebrow, and he spreads his fingers over her lower back, pulls her down on a hard exhale.

She takes his hand and slides it right there between them, says "go ahead", has to grind down on his knuckles as he palms at himself, rocking up into his own hand, holds his face firmly until he's gasping with it. He's slick when she finally gets him out; bites off a curse when she slides down his body. He doesn't feel any different than what she knows—coarse grey hair at the base of a long, flushed cock; soft, vulnerable sack below it. There's so much heat under her touch when her fingers circle him, a vague reminder of his origin, and that's all she gets to file away before Rayner sinks his fingers in her hair, green light, going in now.

He's quiet and almost still as she takes him in, but that's to be expected, and she closes her eyes, goes slow, gets really into it for a while, until he sucks in a shaky breath, squeezes her neck and arches up hard, says "fuck", sharp and meaning it, and "please", and that's so mind-meltingly hot Michael moans around him and can't manage more than five seconds before coming up because she needs to see him, now.

Rayner's eyes are shut tight, teeth bared. His hands slip down her arms, shaky, his chest is moving with harsh, shallow breaths. "God, Rayner," she says, taking him in hand and pumping slowly, "you're—you're good, you're so good—" and he actually keens at that, an odd high sound.

"Stop," he says, "Michael," and she doesn't, and oh, to see what this costs him.

"What do you want?"

He gasps for breath for a moment, shakes his head. Michael sighs and stills her hand on him.

"Rayner. Look at me."

He makes a cut-off sound of frustration, almost a snarl, breathes in, and meets her eyes dead-on, clear and precise. "Fuck me."

She can't help her smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

She rolls over onto her back. His eyes are all pupil as he lands on his elbows above her, and she throws her legs around him, high on his waist, draws him in.

"Wait," he says, "let me," and strokes just the tips of his fingers under her top, watching her carefully.

"Yeah," she says, "it's alright," and he helps her take it off, nuzzles her neck, then down to her breasts. She feels him hard, leaking against her thigh, and she presses her heel sharply into his lower back until he thrusts against her with a gasp, slowly, and again, keeps it up as he kisses her nipples, her shoulder, the inside of her elbow. She groans, because fuck, he's honest about this, wanting her, wanting her approval, and she whispers, "hey, come here already," and then he's inside her, his hips rolling smoothly, stroking in, and she holds his shoulders, murmurs to him, "yeah, that's it, it's good, you feel good, come on," hears his breath hitch. He closes his eyes, and in the soft creamy glow in the room the planes of his face blur a little. His hair is damp at the roots, a soft white lock falling down against his forehead.

Michael rides his steady rhythm, closes her eyes, too, his long, heated body oddly malleable under her hands and heels, and then his breath is suddenly hot and close, and she looks up to see him unsure again, doesn't get it until his hand cups her cheek and he drops his head an inch closer, hovering, waiting for permission. Oh, God, he's so—Michael draws him into the kiss, soft and wet and scratchy with his beard, and he moans into it, sounding so relieved she has to kiss him harder, fists her hands in the back of his shirt and clenches around him until his hips snap forward harder, again and again, and then he's gone.

After—when he's stopped shivering, when he's finished her off with such care she didn't know what to do with it and kept her hands fisted in his hair, holding on—they lie next to each other, on their backs, for long, quiet minutes. It's peaceful. It's what she came here for.

The room is warmer than what Michael's used to. She thinks about dressing, then discards the idea, sits up and stretches instead. Rayner's eyes don't follow her.

"I'll take that drink now."

He snaps out of his daze and looks at her. "Oh. Um, that way." He nods in the general direction of the cabinet. She finally gets to see the bottle up close—thin, pearlescent material, the liquid inside almost sparkling as the light reflects off it.

She returns to the bed with her glass, sits down, hugging her knees. Rayner hasn't moved, watching her from where he's stretched on his back, hands behind his head, bare but for his shorts. She takes a drink and strokes his shoulder, lets herself look back.

There are scars on his body, paler against pale skin, more than he'd get on a ship—even in battles, even in decades. She doesn't know if he was hiding them, and if he was, why he'd show her now, after. He looks calm, steady, but his face is pale and tired, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

She slides a hand into his damp hair, smoothes it back. "This time, do get some rest, okay?"

"Aye-aye." He catches her hand and kisses it. His long fingers circle her wrist, thumb stroking gently at the base of her palm.

Something sharp shifts in her throat, a fierce protectiveness. This, she knows, goes both ways.

She takes one more chance. "I'd like to keep you, after. As my number one."

Rayner frowns and lets her hand drop. "Let's see how this one goes first."

Michael sighs and shakes her head at him. "You don't have to swear to it. Just consider it." She gives his shoulder a parting squeeze and gets up to collect her clothes.

As she sits down on the edge of the bed to tug her boots back on, he puts a warm hand between her shoulder blades. "Thank you," he says to her back.

"And you." She raises her hand to her badge, but turns back to give him a smile, and, for once, he doesn't look trapped. "I'll see you on the bridge, Commander."

#jesus christ i am so embarrassed by my need to write smut for a fandom i barely know bc My Dude is in it #that i was seriously considering posting this anonymously #but i keep being told that writing fic is supposed to be—among other things—self-indulgent #so here i am. indulging the hell out of that self #it took me way too long to write this and i don't so much consider it done as i am just sick of looking at it #which is a sure sign it's time to let it go #hey this is the first thing i wrote since christmas. odd #my writing #star trek discovery #michael burnham #michael burnham/rayner #rayner

17 notes · View notes

prucanfieldsurquestions · 1 year ago

Note

hello gil and mattie. here's an ask for both of you: what do you do when the other person is sad or stressed?

Multicolour leaves fluttered around Matthew as he sat on the stairs of the deck, enjoying both the crisp autumn air and the sight of Gilbert as the man went about checking their large backyard garden. The sound of German being gleefully spoken to an almost-ripe pumpkin was interrupted by a buzz from Matthew’s phone. He turned the screen on, the image of a maple leaf in a puddle flashing briefly on his blue-rimmed glasses, then checked his notifications and grinned.

“Gil! We got our first ask!” He called out to the man kneeling in the garden.

“Holy shit, already?”

With a grunt to rival a dad at a barbeque, Gilbert got up from the soft dirt and jogged over to where the phone was being held out for him. He plopped down beside Matthew on the stairs, took a look, and beamed. “Told you we’d be popular!”

The blond chuckled and kissed his lover’s head before swaddling him in sweater-covered arms. “You did, and I guess you were right. It’s a good question, though… how do we comfort each other?”

- -

Notes from an acoustic guitar and whistling to accompany it eased through the unusual silence that had permeated the cottage for the better part of the day. Matthew sat in the hall, back against the closed bedroom door, and strummed to stave off whatever had sunk it’s claws into his lover’s brain. Something had upset Gilbert, and true to form, he’d isolated himself in the bedroom for hours now. Texts to ensure he was still breathing were met with either a single emoji or radio silence.

Giving space when needed was definitely important, but when the Prussian occupation of the bedroom neared the four hour mark, Matthew realized this might require his intervention. As he began to sing the first words of his chosen tune, one that held a special place in both their hearts, he heard the mattress squeak and groan under the weight of the man rolling off of it. A small nudge to the door, the distinct sound of a body sliding down to mirror his position, and Matthew couldn’t help but smile a little. Seemed like the siren song was working.

Practiced fingers played the love song as they had for decades now, and when it was done, a sense of peace replaced the hollow sadness that had previously been in the air. The door shifted behind Matthew, an indication that the man on the other side had gotten up and then sat back down. A torn piece of paper with a message written in smudged black pen emerged from under the door:

Taking requests?

Matthew chuckled softly and moved the scrap to the side, where it would no doubt be joined by more. “How about three more songs, then you tell me what’s wrong?” He called out.

Deliberation on this offer took a few minutes that were filled by idle strumming. Finally, another note was passed under the door.

Make it four.

“Deal.”

Five songs later, the Canadian set the guitar down and rested his aching fingers on his lap. He leaned his head back against the door and heard his lover sigh in annoyance. The next note passed under the door had been crumpled, smoothed out, had words scribbled over and a hole where something hadn’t been crossed out so much as it had been obliterated.

It’s stupid.

“Can’t be stupid if it’s making you this upset. And even if it is, I won’t think any less of you. I promise.”

…Fine. Give me a minute and I’ll tell you how fucking dumb this is. Write to you? Whatever. Give me a minute.

Matthew smiled softly as he read the last message and waited for the profanity-laced soul of the man he loved to be bared on a scrap of paper, no matter how many tries or how long it took.

That night, crackles followed the smoke from their backyard campfire heavenward. The pieces of paper that bore Gilbert’s dumb feelings were crumpled up and tossed in, and as crimson eyes watched the sheets go up in flames, the remaining tension in him went up with them. With a sigh of relief he rested his head on his lover’s shoulder.

“Feel better?” Matthew asked as he handed the man a stick with a marshmallow on it and watched in muted horror as the treat was stuck directly into the fire.

Gilbert, knowing full well that his method of roasting marshmallows was apparently abhorrent and loving every second of it, could only snuggle in a little more and hope the unspoken message was received:

Yes. Thank you.

- -

There was no joyous cry of Gilbert's name when Matthew walked through the door, home at last from a meeting that had gone about three hours too long. In fact, there wasn’t much of a greeting at all. The front door slammed shut, which was unusual and most certainly got the Prussian’s attention. From the kitchen he watched his beloved’s leather messenger bag sail down the hall as if it were full of angry wasps. Gilbert set the wooden spoon he was using to stir dinner down on the pot’s handle and quirked an eyebrow as Matthew trudged into the kitchen, collapsed in one of four mismatched chairs and laid his forehead on the wooden table. A sound that was a pitiful mix between a groan and a whine left him like the air being squeezed out of an accordion.

“...Well, I guess I don’t need to ask how your day went.”

Matthew turned his head just enough to look at Gilbert, to silently agree with the man’s assessment. Gilbert watched the atmosphere swirl in eyes darkened to near-indigo by stormclouds for long enough to figure that this probably required his intervention. Without a word he fetched the fuzziest pair of pajama pants Matthew owned and handed them to him.

“Put those on and I’ll ice you down.”

The unspoken gratitude was palpable on Matthew’s face. While Gilbert went to the freezer, he shimmied out of the stuffy suit he’d been forced to wear and threw the offending clothing into the living room, somewhere near the bag that he was pretending didn’t exist for the time being. A sigh of relief crossed his lips as soon as the red plaid pajama pants, complete with pockets, were on. A hair tie was fetched from the junk drawer, a chair was turned backwards and straddled, and Matthew sat expectantly with eyes closed and his hair in a loose bun.

Gilbert took but a moment to appreciate Matthew’s shirtless form before he walked over and stopped behind him. He held an ice cube in his hand and, as a special surprise, had one in his mouth as well. A frosty kiss on golden locks, a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady Matthew, and the ice cube was pressed to the back of his neck.

The effects were immediate. Gilbert heard a soft gasp and felt all the tension melt out of Matthew’s shoulders. He stepped just a little bit closer, to press his torso against the man and feel him readily lean back into the contact. The ice didn’t stay in the same spot for very long. A slow, chilly trail was blazed across the Canadian’s collarbone, eliciting a few small noises of approval that earned him a few more kisses peppered to his head.

Gilbert moved his hand from his lover’s shoulder to take gentle hold of his jaw. Matthew easily allowed him to tilt his head up and to the side for more ready access to the rest of his neck. Instead of moving the ice there, however, the albino bent down and left a trail of delightfully cold kisses that left Matthew breathless. Long fingers threaded through snowy hair to keep Gilbert there, to feel his lips as he whispered sweet, sub-zero nothings in German against Matthew’s soft skin and left deliciously cold trails across his shoulders.

It was almost a shame when the last of the ice melted. Gilbert pulled away after one last kiss to Matthew’s neck, leaving him with a dreamy smile and the same soul-filling feeling as a hot drink on a cold day. He returned to making dinner and began to prattle on about his own day, as was tradition. Soon enough, though, he heard the chair scoot as Matthew got up. It was but a moment before he felt arms wrap around his waist and a chin rest on his shoulder. Though he continued to talk, he made sure to give Matthew’s hand a little squeeze to let him know the unspoken message was received loud and clear:

I love you. Thank you.

#thanks for the ask!#hws prussia #hws canada #prucan #gilbert beilschmidt #matthew williams

28 notes · View notes