#Essentials Massage and Day Spa | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slushycoookie · 7 months ago

Text

Spa Day ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Content: You and Miguel go to the spa, mainly fluff, gets smutty towards the end, "wife" and "girl" are used, thigh grinding, masturbation, perhaps a hint of a praise kink, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: Had an idea to do a cute spa day with Mig. Enjoy!

“Welcome to the Sunny Side Spa! Are you checking in?”

The receptionist asked, smiling wide as you and Miguel walked inside. You were too busy taking in the peaceful atmosphere to respond. Admiring the soft bright lighting, harpsichord music, and divulging in the lavender aroma.

Miguel stepped in, “Yes. For the deluxe package?”

“Wonderful! Right this way!” You took your husband's hand, following the cheery woman down a hall and to the right, where the showers and locker rooms were. “Please wash up and put on our robes so we can start your ultimate spa experience!”

Your heart sped up in excitement, trying to contain it as you and Miguel went your separate ways in the locker rooms. Sunny Side Spa was a new spa that opened up on Earth-438, being highly recommended by some of the spiders in Spider Society. Ben mainly as he raved about his experience. Saying he suggested it to a few others too because it was that good. Jess came to you a few days later about the same spa and then so did Peter the day after. All boasting about their experiences, wanting you and Miguel to go too.

They mentioned how difficult it was pushing Miguel to go out and try new experiences. Especially after his major role in forming the elite spidey team. But once he started dating you, he was open to branching himself out. Even more so after marriage.

So when you brought up the spa trip with him, he was interested. He didn’t think he'd even been to the spa before when he couldn’t remember the last time he's had a massage or a facial. You weren't sure yourself. Hence why it was clear you two had to get in some relaxation time.

The cream-colored robe you put on felt like cotton. It was warm and soft to the touch with notes of eucalyptus hitting your nostrils.

Miguel was waiting for you, leaning against the wall while listening to the receptionist rave about the deluxe package. You didn't catch much of it, only hearing a little bit about a deep tissue massage.

“Ah you too look adorable!” She complimented before motioning you all to the massage room. The lady repeated what she told Miguel about everything that's in the deluxe package. A deep tissue massage, followed by a manicure, pedicure and a facial. While you all were fed complementary food and drinks. And as an added bonus, a private sauna room you can go to at the end of the wellness visit.

The lady handed you a pamphlet of the details in case you forget as she left you two in the room to wait for your masseuse. Your eyes caught the option to do hot stones in the massage to maximize muscle relaxation.

“Maybe you should pick this one.” You pointed out.

Miguel glanced over your shoulder, letting out a playful huff. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing…” You teased, “My man works hard. Just want to make sure we're making the most out of our stay.”

He hummed, kissing the side of your head. “I appreciate the thought, baby.”

The massages you received were out of this world.

Once meeting with your personal masseuse, you lied face down, uncovering your robe for easy access. The masseuses' hands roaming every inch of your bare back. Rubbing spots along your muscles that you didn’t even know were tense. All of the tension built up inside faded away once the soft fingers of your personal masseuse melted it away.

You couldn’t help but groan loudly at the feeling, hearing your masseuse laugh. “Feel good, yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

Miguel was enjoying his massage as his groans resonated in the room. While he occasionally instructed his own masseuse where they should rub the most. Any semblance of worry that your husband wasn’t going to enjoy the experience were gone.

Hints of jasmine from the essential oils lingered as hot stones pressed along your back. Not hot enough to burn your skin but to soothe your body. The personal masseuses left the room, wanting you two to lie on the cot for a little to fully relax.

“Cariño?” You hummed in response, “I might fall asleep.”

You giggled as you could tell by his low tone. “Fall asleep, baby.” You weren't too far yourself, body desperate to doze off in pure bliss. Miguel’s soft snores weren’t helping either as it blended well with the gentle music that was playing.

After you and Miguel got some shut eye for a few minutes, your masseuse woke you up for the mani/pedi. You took the lead as Miguel trailed behind, walking a tad slower to get adjusted from his nap. The section of getting the hand and foot massages was in a large area outside. A closed off section that was decorated with tons of food at your disposal. Fruit, veggies and mini sandwiches with a variety of alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks.

You quickly snatched up a grape as you sat back in your reclining chair, grabbing a drink of water while waiting on the nail artists to arrive. There was an option of getting your nails painted too, which Miguel willingly said yes to your surprise.

“Ooh can I pick your color?” You asked as they handed you a palette of nail colors to choose from.

“Go crazy.” Miguel said, not paying you any mind as he messed with his chair that had a massage function built in.

You decided to pick black for him, the glittery kind that shined in the light. You opted for a dark blue, like his suit, also sporting a shimmery shine.

The techs were really thorough while doing your hands and feet. Placing them in a tub of warm water, scrubbing away the excess skin. Trimming your nails and toes to a decent length. You watched them rub oil across your arms and legs too before they effortlessly painted your nails and toes. You glanced over to see how Miguel’s looked. He wiggled one of his hands to show it off. Black fit well on him.

Your face was soon covered with a mixture of ingredients you couldn't recognize. The green concoction had a clay-like texture, but it was cool against your skin. You watched the spa workers carry a bowl of cucumbers to finish off the facial. And you couldn't help but get excited when they said you could eat the veggies once the facial was finished, earning a laugh from your husband.

“Can I eat yours too?”

“Sure, mi amor.”

They allowed you two to relax in your chairs for a bit. The soothing sensation of the mask really helping. Your nail techs also recommend waiting to touch anything for a bit while your nails dried, making sure their hard work didn't go to waste. That didn't stop Miguel from inching over to nudge your hand with his pinkie.

“Hm?” You said, completely in the zone of your relaxation.

“You look adorable right now.” Miguel chuckled.

You held back in removing a cucumber from your eye, “Put your cucumbers back on.”

“I will. Just let me look at you.”

“You've seen me before.”

“Not with green stuff all over your face.”

You removed one of your cucumbers, opening your eye and immediately snorting at Miguel’s green covered face. “You look adorable too.”

He gave another affectionate nudge before following your command by putting on his cucumbers.

After the delightful facials, you two made your way down to the saunas. You could feel your face glowing from the extra care. Both of you had to change again into some towels, having a similar texture and color to the robes you wore.

You and Miguel had 30 minutes inside before the staff checked on you. And you felt like you were in heaven as you leaned against Miguel. A warmth radiating throughout the room that relaxed your muscles and your mind. His arm draped behind you, leaning back against the bench, legs spread a little wide. You could tell he was enjoying it as he leaned his head back, taking it in.

Something in you honed on his neck, a slight sheen coating his brown skin. His adam's apple bobbing slowly. You swallowed hard at the hair on his chest, following it down to his happy trail and unable to see the prize under his towel.

“We should come here more often.” His voice caused you to jump, not expecting him to say anything.

“Oh yeah, we should.”

Miguel sat up, red eyes landing on you with a grin, “I know you liked the massages.”

“Of course I did.” You shrugged, “So did you, right?”

He nodded, “I did. But I know you really enjoyed them.” Miguel sat up a little and inadvertently spread his legs wider, “I heard your cute little noises.”

You huffed, trying not to get affected by what he was saying. “It wasn't intentional, it just felt good.”

“I know, nena. I'm teasing.” His hand rested on your side. It felt extra hot for some reason. “Sit on my lap.”

You eyed him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Because I want you to.” He said, sounding innocent.

“We can’t have sex in here, Miguel.”

Your husband bit his lip to hide his amusement, “Who said we were having sex? Your mind is awfully dirty.” You shot a glare towards him. He completely ignored it before patting his thigh for you. Somehow you found yourself on it, hands on his chest for support.

“I'm serious.” You warned before he captured your lips. It was gentle yet passionate. His hand placed on your back to keep you there while your tongues danced with each other. You wanted more when you parted, wanting to lean back in but you stopped yourself.

“We can’t…”

“We're not having sex.” Miguel reiterated as his hand moved to slowly unravel your towel. You didn’t protest, as a glimpse of your breast poked through, your towel loose enough to ride up to your hips. “Grind on my thigh.”

Your hips moved on command, your cunt rubbing against his covered thigh. The plush towel not irritating you at all but the complete opposite as you lowly gasped. Miguel’s hand took its rightful place on your back for stability. His eyes honed on how you were grinding against him.

“Good girl.”

Your eyes flickered to his hard cock coming out from his towel. Standing tall and proud due to your actions. You wanted to touch it, but he beat you to it as he lifted you up gently, plunging two fingers inside you. You whimpered at how embarrassingly wet you were before watching him use your arousal on his cock.

His eyes never left your body as yours watched him stroke his cock. His thumb running along the tip to collect pre cum before using it for additional lubrication. A quiet squishy sound was heard through the hum from the sauna. But you kept going, eyes fluttering shut to focus on what you were doing.

“Eyes on me.” He commanded.

You gazed at him, your stomach twisting as he was still watching you. Intense eyes filled with pleasure. Your hips faltered when he unraveled more of your towel from your body. It was dangling from your form, barely hanging on. But this way he was able to see your breasts move from the hip movement. And your covered sex rub along the fabric.

“Fuck…” He swore, picking up the pace of his strokes. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Miguel…” You moaned, your clit hitting a perfect spot amidst your lazy grinding. That caused you to arch your back and pick up the pace. Miguel’s other hand is still on you, gripping a bit tighter.

“I should fuck you right here.” He grunted, spreading his legs even wider to get a good angle. “But I listen to my wife.”

“Sometimes.” You muttered, enough for him to let out a breathy chuckle. Your thighs started to ache as your cunt pulsed while you felt yourself getting closer. You wanted to shut your eyes and chase it but it was more addicting to look at Miguel’s steely focus on you.

“Wait for me.” He sighed, voice starting to get hoarse. You slowed down for him to catch up. Which didn’t take too long as his rough hand gripped your ass, the cue for you to go. So you kept grinding. Your back arching more and allowing the towel to slip completely off. That earned a groan of approval from your husband, his face turned from the undeniable pleasure.

“Baby I need you to come. We don't have much time.”

“I-I know.” You struggled, whining as you were nearing your peak. You had to ignore Miguel’s demand this time by shutting your eyes to focus on that feeling. Your body exploded, pleasure shooting all over you. Thighs squeezing against his while you quietly cried for him. Any other time he wouldn't like how quiet you were but he didn’t complain.

Miguel wasn’t far behind as cum shot out, staining his abdomen. His death grip from your ass gently released as he heaved. You rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back down to his original pace.

You and your husband were practically glowing after getting out of the sauna. The two of you changed back into your clothes before making your way to the front of the establishment.

The receptionist waved to you and Miguel as he made the payment, “Did you two enjoy yourselves?”

“We definitely did.” He glanced at you with satisfaction while you held in a grin.

“Awesome!” She handed him the receipt before waving you two goodbye. “Thank you for coming to the Sunny Side Spa! Have a good day!”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #slushycoookie writes

508 notes · View notes

idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 3 months ago

Text

(1) Hotel Girl - Carlos Sainz

Finally. A holiday. 5 days of some much needed and well deserved rest. Well, apart from the occasional email he'd have to send and phone call he'd have to take. But, it was a small price to pay for a working week of pure bliss.

Carlos had decided to spend part of his summer break by himself in the bougiest hotel he could possibly find. He would have rented a villa to himself, but then he'd have to cook, hire a chef or go out every night.

Cooking was not his idea of relaxing, a chef would be a waste for just him, and going to restaurants every night by himself was the literal definition of sad. He didn't want photos of him dining alone circulating the internet, no way.

At least in a hotel, he had room service, housekeeping, and food served on site so he wouldn't have to venture far. He might explore the local town if he felt like stretching his legs, but he wouldn't force himself just for the sake of tourism.

After spending what felt like hours travelling, going through menial airports and checking into the hotel, Carlos was finally able to switch his mind off and relax in his hotel room. It was too much room for one person, but he was in the position where he could treat himself without batting an eyelid.

Once he had unpacked, he figured he'd take a little wander around his home for the next few days. The hotel was a relatively new build, lots of glass and neutral greys and whites. The glass allowed for views of the stunning scenery in pretty much every area of the hotel.

The hotel was located on a vast and secluded beach somewhere in the Bahamas, which was plenty far enough away from anyone who could personally know him, as well as far away enough from the press. It was out of the way, so much so that there was only one road to go in and out of the hotel.

He wandered through the lobby, smiling back at the personnel on the desk before turning away to mind his own business. He walked past the different restaurants on offer, even if he didn't think that he'd be utilising them too much during his stay.

He also strolled by the spa, which he made a mental note to pay one or two (or more) visits to. Carlos could smell the essential oils from a mile away, and the soft tones of the typical spa music soothed his soul instantly. Well, for the meantime, anyway. God did a massage sound good right about now.

Having the stress and tension worked out of his muscles was exactly what he needed. Reading the board, he saw that he'd need to book at reception for his massages. He'd probably be spending every day in there, but that wasn't a problem for him. It was his holiday, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted to.

Now all he really had to check out was the pool, but he'd seen plenty of pictures when he booked online. He was too tired to walk down to the beach today due to the jetlag, so Carlos ultimately decided to take himself off to his room so he could rest properly.

Once he was back in his suite, Carlos wanted to relax on his balcony for a moment. He took himself over to the mini fridge and selected an ice cold water which he would undoubtedly be paying through the roof for, but he'd deal with it.

The balcony had a stunning view of the pool, and he could see the golden sands and the sun setting behind the horizon as it glittered on the surface of the water. There was a light breeze to try and combat the still sweltering heat that was emanating from the sun.

As he nosied around, he spotted couples on their terraces, entangled in each other's embrace. Now that was a view he could be doing without. Luckily for Carlos, all he had to do was turn his head left, and the rest of the world faded into obscurity. He could focus on the mesmerising view of the ocean and the pure silence that enveloped him.

He heard a few screen doors open and close, the patter of footsteps quietening down after the click. For a while, it was just him and his thoughts. No racing, no people, just him and the silence. It was a welcomed change, his mind finally allowed to stop rocketing around like it was on a track and it could just lull into a calm tranquility.

He didn't know how long had gone by before he heard a soft hum carried on the wind. He thought everyone had gone inside, or to dinner. But he only heard one set of footsteps on the tiled terrace surface.

Carlos would normally have just ignored the other person making their way outside, but something inside him told him to turn his head. His intuition was fully correct when his eyes landed upon her.

He couldn't quite tell whether he was thankful for noticing her, or very very ungrateful for having found something that could take up his thoughts and replace the peace he was supposed to have. She had taken a seat on her sun lounger - just like he had.

Her hair was pulled back in a bun at the back of her head, a few curls springing out from the uniformity. Her body was wrapped in a dress of colours swirling around her figure as long legs protruded from the skirt.

It was like her skin was shimmering under the light of the setting sun. Her eyes were hidden from him behind sunglasses, but from what he could see, the rest of her face was gorgeous enough to intrigue him.

She was reading a book, he couldn't see the title from where he was, but she seemed to be pretty engrossed. He tried to tear his eyes away, avert his gaze back over to the ocean and the small waves rippling across the top of the water, but he couldn't.

There was a view that he was much more interested in, and a view that he could have watched until the moon took its place as the beacon in the sky. She was breathtaking. The sight of her was like seeing the Aurora Borealis for the first time, an encapsulating experience that could never quite be forgotten. She was like a goddess, put there purely to tempt him.

Carlos' mind instantly took him down the dangerous rabbit hole of asking too many questions. He became his own detective, interrogating himself on the minimal information he had on her. From what he could see, there didn't appear to be a ring on her finger, and there wasn't a towel on the sun lounger beside her.

It seemed as if she was all alone. Maybe she was like him: taking a vacation away from the chaos of her life. Maybe she too had been entranced by the pool, the spa and the beach. The peace, the quiet and the serenity.

Even if this was the case, unknowingly, she had taken away his ability to experience those things. He was mentally scolding himself for suddenly becoming so interested on some random girl he had seen on her hotel room balcony, since he was supposed to be having some well-deserved him time.

Yet, he wasn't that lucky.

In a moment of weakness, Carlos coughed slightly. He wanted to see if she'd look up to see where the noise had come from, but she sat unmoving. Her eyes were seemingly still glued to the pages of the book, which she would turn every now and then. He couldn't see past the sunglasses.

As the sun set further behind the horizon, she still stayed on the balcony with her book. And so did Carlos. He would only go in once she did, even if that took him until the early hours of the morning.

While he was staring, he took the time to run through the myriad of questions that he was asking himself. Why the hell was he so enticed by this random girl on the balcony? Why was he letting himself get so worked up by her? Who was she? Her room seemed to be nearer reception, so that must have meant that her room number was below the one hundreds- no. Stop.

He would not stoop to borderline stalking the girl on the balcony. No. That wasn't the kind of guy he was. If he was really interested, he could try and talk to her if he saw her around. He wasn't going to go full Joe Goldberg on her. Yet.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearing on eleven pm. She had shuffled around in her seat a few times, the hardness of the sun lounger becoming uncomfortable after prolonged sitting. But, she was making good headway in her book.

She had gotten through a chunk of pages, maybe a quarter of the full thing. He wondered if it was interesting and if she was enjoying reading it, or if she was just reading it for the sake of finishing it and would then not recommend it to her friends.

Was she the popular one among her friends? She seemed to be. She seemed like the nice one that everyone would lean on for help, or the reliable one. He probably just thought that because that was the girl he wanted her to be. For both of their sakes.

Who was he kidding, he was unbelievably captivated by the girl on the balcony.

As the minutes ticked towards midnight, the girl put her bookmark back in her book and closed it, swinging her long legs over the side of the lounger and standing. He watched her hips sway as she took the few steps into her room, sliding the door shut with a soft click that sounded a lot louder in the quiet of the night.

Carlos was left as the only person sat outside. His mind was conflicted, to say the least. He was annoyed that he was so attached by this girl he had seen across the hotel complex, and it was so aggravating. Here he was, trying to relax, but no. The universe had other ideas.

It just had to throw a beautiful woman in the mix to rattle everything up. The weariness he felt was definitely exuberating his thoughts of her, but now he had to find some common sense, get a grip, and act like a normal, completely sane human being.

With a sigh, Carlos took himself back inside as well. He brushed his teeth, took in his own weary expression and went straight to bed. A relieved groan escaped his lips as he collapsed down on the bed, his body quickly succumbing to the grasp of sleep.

There were no dreams plaguing his mind through the night, and he woke up to a light knocking on the door. His back cracked as he got out of bed and slowly stepped over to his hotel room door. Opening it, he saw a small, old lady with a large kart behind her.

"Housekeeping?" she smiled, her eyes wandering up and down his body.

She had a light blush on her cheeks, clearly slightly flustered by the shirtless, handsome man that she was looking at. "Could you come back in half an hour, please?" he asked, and she nodded immediately.

"Of course, sir, of course. Have a nice day."

"You too," he returned, closing the door behind him. He'd just head down to breakfast so he could let the nice lady do her job. The room wasn't messy at all since all he had done was sleep and sit on the balcony to watch- oh yeah. Her.

He had escaped the thought of her during his rest and the few minutes of his morning, but his mind had become tired of running away from her. He wished he could just ignore her, but there was that small part of him that wished he could catch another tantalising glimpse of her.

Carlos dressed himself and sorted out his hair somewhat before heading out of the door with his room key and wallet in his pocket. He would have just done room service for breakfast, but he wanted to give the woman some space.

She was in the room next door and she flashed him a kind smile as he peered in the door. The walk through the opulent lobby was short, and he could feel a small sniffle coming on due to the aircon.

And just out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he had saw her. He turned his head, only to see another relatively pretty woman. But, she didn't hold a candle to the girl who was reading the mystery book on her balcony the previous night.

He shook his head, trying to waft away the thoughts of her as he tried to have a peaceful breakfast. Carlos continued to walk, keeping his mind fixed on the thought of breakfast as opposed to visions of her.

Just as he thought he had torn his mind away from the wonder that she was, he saw her. The real her, this time. Not a random woman who had some similarities to her when he didn't have the chance to look at her properly. There she was.

She was wearing just a pair of blue wash shorts and plain white top, but it didn't matter. She was the single most stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He watched her walk down a corridor, and he spotted a sign that they were serving breakfast at one of the cafes in the hotel.

Carlos couldn't help himself but follow on, keeping his distance so he wouldn't seem like too much of a creep. But, who was he kidding? He was being creepy, practically following her to where she was going just to eat breakfast. He couldn't help but be entranced by the way that her hips swayed side to side as she walked and the way her figure looked. Awe-inspiring was all he could attach to her.

She settled down at a table, all by herself yet again. The woman picked up her menu, her shining eyes scanning over the contents. Carlos strategically picked a table that wasn't too near her, but near enough that he could happily see her. He just saw the first thing on the menu and decided on that, since he had much prettier things to be looking at.

As the waiter approached her table, his ears picked up to try and suss out the language she was speaking. English, Spanish or Italian, he would be fine. His French was questionable at best, but it was similar enough to Italian and Spanish. Plus, he could always ask Charles if he was in need of any urgent lessons. Well, Charles or Duolingo.

He heard snippets of her conversation, some 'no's' and 'yeses' as well as a nice, polite bout of 'pleases' laced in the exchange. But, even if she was speaking English to the waiter, that didn't mean it was her mother tongue.

But from what he could hear, her accent sounded pretty English, so he felt it was safe to assume that if he did end up talking to her in some delusioned parallel universe, he could aptly communicate with her. As if he would ever get the opportunity to talk to her, though.

Even just the idea of her focus being on him while they engaged in small talk about the weather sent his heart into a spiral of undefinable emotions. It was something he so desperately desired, but also needed to resign himself to the fact that it wasn't going to happen.

When the waiter came to his table next, he was at a loss for what he was supposed to be ordering. He flipped the menu open, his mouth just reading out the first option his eyes found. He didn't mind eggs benedict, he could live with having that for breakfast.

The waiter was gone just as quickly as he came, and Carlos was left with just his jug of water and his thoughts. Again. God, this holiday was such a bad idea. He tried to take in the surroundings of the restaurant, the theme being beachy, but still with a hint of luxury.

He allowed his eyes to flit over to her every now and then, taking in the way her eyes studied the room around her and the way in which she sipped at her cappuccino. From the distance, he saw the slight lipstick mark that was left behind on the white ceramic.

Her food got there before his did, and it was exactly as he had ordered his. Eggs benedict. Yes, he had only ordered his since it was the first thing he could make out, but the delusional part of his brain saw it as fate.

Her smile was enchanting as she thanked the waiter, small dimples on her cheeks as her kind eyes looked up at him. He wanted her to smile at him when she looked at him, not some waiter who just brought out her breakfast.

Shortly after, the waiter was back with his eggs benedict, which he wasn't even hungry for anymore. He was hungry for something else. Something a hell of a lot sweeter.

He scarfed down his eggs benedict like a man starved, just so he could be gone before she was. He didn't want to allow himself to stoop to the point of waiting to watch her leave, just so he could see the tantalising way in which her body moved.

He forced himself to walk straight through the hotel, straight through the lobby and right into the elevator before he even had chance to think and wait. By the time Carlos arrived back in his room, the lovely cleaning lady had made the bed and done some general tidying.

He was not going to allow this random girl to ruin his relaxation time, no way. This was about him. No one else but him. So, why not take some time to lounge around the pool? He could go for a swim, catch a little sun, maybe do a sudoku or two. Now that was a proper version of repose.

The quicker he did things, the less his mind would drift back to her, so he quickly packed some things in his backpack. A book of sudokus, sun cream, a towel, and his phone. He checked the room, making sure there was nothing that he was missing before he set off on his leisurely stroll down to the pool.

His footsteps echoed off the tall ceilings of the corridors and the lobby, and he really was appreciating the luxury of the hotel he was staying in. Of course, he had only picked the best for himself, but he was cognizant of the ability to spoil himself a little.

Carlos had the choice of 3 pools around the resort, the first of which being the one located in the spa. Now, it would have been quiet, but he wasn't interested in the soothing music and smell of lavender right now. Instead, he opted for the soft splashes of water and scent of suncream.

The first of the other 2 pools was located by the beach, and the views were absolutely breathtaking. But, there were quite a few people there, so he finally decided on the other pool. There was nothing wrong with it, you could still see the ocean and take in the sights, so he didn't think it was too much of a compromise.

Settling on a sunlounger, Carlos stripped his shirt off and stuffed it into his backpack, allowing himself to soak up the sun. He'd hold off on the suncream for a short while, hoping he wouldn't get burnt on the first day of his holiday.

Leaning back on the lounger, Carlos took a deep breath, taking in the surroundings. There weren't many people around the pool, just the odd couple lazing around with a few people swimming laps. Now this was the peaceful atmosphere he was looking for.

He closed his eyes, feeling his skin soaking up the rays of sunlight. The palm trees around the pool rustled softly in the sea-side breeze, and it took the edge off of the pure heat that was felt all around.

The voices around him were hushed, people conversing in soft tones as to not disturb the quiet of the pool. Around an hour had passed of Carlos lying around on his sun lounger, he decided a dip in the pool was what he was wanting.

He left his stuff where he was sat, knowing it wouldn't get stolen or anything. He took the stairs one at a time, and the temperature of the water was perfect. Carlos swam over to the edge and rested his back against the cool tiles.

He was thoroughly enjoying people watching, mostly just couples their on their holidays. He had seen a few people who seemed to be alone like him, as well as a few families with older children.

He was thankful for his sunglasses so he could observe without being noticed and without seeming like a creep. Well, he might have been slightly creepy towards the girl from the balco- and there she was again.

He scoffed to himself, annoyed that he was letting himself think back to that. She was omnipresent practically, even if she wasn't there physically, she plagued his mind. He thought if he didn't fight the thoughts so much, then they wouldn't be so aggressive in their push to the forefront of his mind.

And just as he thought nothing else could go wrong, he heard the patter of feet on the tiled walkway through the near silence of his surroundings. His heart knew before he had seen her, and as soon as he had raised his head, he was greeted with the sight of the goddess he had seen.

She was wearing a sheer throw over her bikini, and she had a body that looked like it was sculpted by God himself to make her absolutely perfect for Carlos. She sat down at a lounger that was dangerously close to his, and he fully contemplated just sitting in the pool until she eventually left.

As she shrugged the throw off her shoulders and stuffed it into her tote bag, he couldn't help but marvel at the way her skin shone in the sunlight. If only he could just run his hands over her, feel the smoothness under his fingertips...

Alas, that wouldn't be happening.

Again, this was one of those times where he was unbelievably thankful for the genuins invention of sunglasses. His head may have been sat square on his shoulders, but his eyes were looking slightly to the right.

She readjusted her sun lounger, sitting back as she rummaged around in her bag for something. There it was, the book. The colours on the cover were the same, yet he still couldn't quite catch the title of the book. If he could hazard a guess, it was some sort of mystery, based off of the dark blues of the cover.

He couldn't help but see her as the type of girl to read a romance novel, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was a book about romance, the deep intricate facets of love and devotion to someone. But he wouldn't know.

If he could, he would offer to rub sun cream on her back, his hands lingering for just a little longer than necessary. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist peppering a few kisses down her neck and across her shoulders. Carlos tried to imagine her laugh as she playfully told him to stop it.

He wouldn't stop, leaning his head down and kissing her more just to prove his point. Maybe he'd make a suggestive comment - it would have depended on the mood of the day. Even if that had never stopped Carlos before.

He had to snap himself out of it before his mind went to darker places, not wanting the physical effect of said thoughts to become evident. Now that would have been really really embarrassing. He'd never forgive himself if he let himself go that far.

Every page she turned was like an indicator of time passing by, the bookmark moving through the pages like a stop-motion picture. He wondered if she was enjoying the book, who her favourite characters were. Maybe there were some quotes that she'd remember, some more philosophical or meaningful ones.

If he could figure out the title, he'd give it a read. See if he enjoyed it too.

It was seeming like she was never going to leave, and Carlos could feel his skin becoming dried out by the chlorine, rippled and rough like unconditioned leather. He swam his way over to the edge of the pool, hauling himself out of the water with as much grace as he could.

Water droplets ran down his body as he made his way back over to his sun lounger. Unless he was losing his mind, which was highly likely, he could've sworn her eyes flicked up from the gripping words on the page and onto him.

He saw the blue of her irises, her pupils constricting as she momentarily looked at him. He could have sworn his heart was going to break through his ribs and skin, pouring out for everyone to see. As he sat down, picking up his towel and lazily running it over his body, he tried to take a few deep breaths.

'Get it together' he thought to himself, 'you're being stupid.' He really felt idiotic as he sat there, trying to calm down from something as simple as his random hotel crush looking at him for a moment as he walked by.

It was just human curiosity. That is all it was. She wasn't checking him out, she wasn't looking at him with particular interest. It was plain, simple, inquisitivity.

He draped his towel over the back of the chair so that it could dry in the heat, and he leant back, closing his eyes to try and chill himself out. As he sat there, his thoughts were running wild. He was so consumed by the simplest action, a teeny little look in his direction, and he was already getting frustrated at himself for letting himself feel this way.

"Hey, sorry, excuse me?" a voice broke him out of his thoughts.

A/N - Hey loves! Would really appreciate if you could reblog this, still think I'm shadowbanned for some absurd reason. Hope you enjoyed, been working on this for a short amount of time, and I quite like this one. Love y'all! 💖💖

|masterlist|

145 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 2 years ago

Text

masterlist

untitled

I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.

So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.

4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),

Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.

You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.

He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.

That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.

You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.

Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.

You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.

In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.

He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.

Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."

"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."

He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.

Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.

Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.

Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.

He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.

Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.

"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.

"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.

"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"

"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.

He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.

The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.

The damn chair creaks again.

He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.

He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.

The corners of your mouth tug up.

He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.

It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.

The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.

Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.

The need for oxygen is strong.

Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.

Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.

It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.

"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.

It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.

It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.

"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"

You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.

Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.

A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.

Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.

Both of you hiss at the friction.

Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.

He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.

Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.

The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.

Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.

"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."

"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.

"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.

Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.

Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.

His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.

You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.

He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.

"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.

"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.

With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.

Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.

Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.

"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"

"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.

With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-

Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.

"Fuck!" You yelp.

"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.

Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.

Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.

You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.

The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"

Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.

Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.

You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.

Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.

You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.

"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."

"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.

Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.

When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.

Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.

Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.

Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.

Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.

The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.

Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.

When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.

Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.

As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.

"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."

He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?

He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.

In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.

The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?

Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.

The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.

This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.

The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.

"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"

"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.

Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.

"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.

Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."

In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.

Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.

You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.

In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.

You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.

Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.

"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.

"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.

"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.

With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.

The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.

"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."

Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.

The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.

Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.

"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.

All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.

Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.

Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.

You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-

"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."

The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-

Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.

"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.

"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-

That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.

He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-

Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.

It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.

Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.

Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.

"Whatchu grinnin' at?"

Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.

"Feels good."

"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."

#WHEW I NEED TO BE NEUTERED Y'ALL #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #twd smut #fuckin' tiktok editors wirh their fuckin sexy edits #fuckin norman reedus with his stupid fuckin face #ALL OF YOU GET OUT #of my head #please.

1K notes · View notes

restinslices · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write the Lin Kuei boy’s reaction to a surprise spa day by their spouse? Like it’s a rare day off and their partner’s surprised them with a nice day of rest and relaxation?

I’m on meds again and it has me exhausted so this might be short and some may have longer parts than others. I didn’t check. I’m finna go to sleep again

Bi-Han

I wouldn't be surprised if he initially turned it down

He expects things to pop off and for him to be needed so a spa day seems like it'll prevent him from being ready if he's called upon

You don't take no for an answer tho

Grumpy the entire time but doesn't hate it

He just doesn't wanna admit he was wrong and a spa day wasn't torture

I think he'd enjoy things that don't take awhile or something that allows him to still move around

Like, you know when someone is being waxed and they gotta lay there? I don't think that’d he something he'd enjoy

Something like a facemask tho (put it on quickly then he can do whatever else while it dries) he'd enjoy more

Some people get their nails done, and I don't think he's like “absolutely not!” but I don't see him wanting a color. He's a clear gel type of guy

Now I will go back and contradict what I said earlier and say he'd enjoy a jet bath

Has a shorter spa day than the others. At some point he's just like “yeah I'm over it”

“That wasn't so bad, now was it?” “It wasn't terrible”

Just say you appreciate it

Kuai Liang

A spa day? Sure!

I feel like saying he'd enjoy the hot things (sauna, hot bath, them hot ass rocks) is stereotypical because the whole fire thing but imma say it anyway

Probably enjoys activities that you can do as a team

Like sitting in a sauna. You're together and you can chat

Or bathing together

Appreciates a bit of relaxation because his life? Stressful as fuck

Especially if this is after Bi-Han's betrayal

Definitely open to having another spa day. Whether it's a surprise or not

I see all of them as clear gel guys tbh

Also enjoys a jet bath, but honestly who dislikes a good bath?

Dislikes the whole face rubbing shit

Why do I think this? I'm just tryna make them different. I think it's essential to be truthful in our relationship-

Yeah the spa day is for him but he checks in to make sure you're having a good time too

Makes sure to repay the favor. This could mean taking you out to eat after, taking you out another day soon, paying for the next spa day, getting you a gift, ect. Whatever you want.

“How was it?” “It was great! Thank you”

Tomas

Him turning down a spa day? Absolutely not. Do you remember when his last day of peace was? He doesn't

Ignore that this is literally the era of peace-

Enjoys the little vacation and makes sure you know he's appreciative of you thinking of him

You both wanna cater to the other and do what they wanna do first so you have to compromise and take turns

You do what Tomas is interested in, then what you're interested in and then it keeps going like that

Enjoys the steam room because smoke pun obviously

I don't think he necessarily needs to chat the whole time, but he likes you still being near

You MIGHT get him to agreeing to a little waxing

Y'all know how men are. They're all big and strong but squeal when waxing is involved

Milks the entire day for what it's worth. A jacuzzi? He's in there. Steam room? Yes. Massages? Absolutely.

There's nothing he misses. You paid for it so he might as well do everything while he can

Definitely wants to do it again

“So I'm assuming you enjoyed it?” “You really need me to answer?”

165 notes · View notes

nebuladreamerrr · 4 months ago

Text

Hands of healing| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

REQUEST: "Can I have some fluff where reader comes home from getting her nails and toes done so when she comes home the house is all quiet so she looks for Kylian and he’s in bed sleeping and notices his feet out of the covers so she decides to play mischief as she can’t resist to tickle him, poking his soles, scratching his arches and playing with his toes until he wakes up all annoyed and she bes all like “well who’s gonna compliment me” so she shows him her nails and toes done so he tickles her back as payback please💗"

Summary: Kylian has always aimed to win at everything, but y/n has set out to beat him in this tickle battle. Will she be able to do it?

Warnings: English is not my first language, and it includes feet kink

They had been long months, and little by little you had stopped prioritizing those small habits that could relax you in your day-to-day life in order to keep up with your routine.

Stress had become a constant in your life, something you had accepted living with from the moment you took the job, knowing it would come with certain demands. However, over the years, you had managed to discover some techniques that allowed you to relax and remember that everything was going to be okay.

One of your favorite methods to relax was to prepare a romantic dinner with Kylian at home. Although on numerous occasions you both had dressed up to go out and dine at some luxurious Parisian restaurant with excellent reviews, deep down you preferred to stay home. Together, you would help each other prepare dinner, which frequently ended in a fun flour fight. Once you finished, you opened a bottle of champagne to toast to your achievements and future endeavors. While watching a series and dining, you caught up on how your day had gone. At the end of the night, Kylian would usually take the opportunity to culminate the evening with a more intimate union, sealing the love you both felt for each other.

On many other occasions, due to the young player's hectic schedules, you had to find ways to unwind when you were alone. This often included going out shopping at a new boutique you had discovered, meeting up with friends and family, or visiting Kylian's family. But above all, you usually prioritized your aesthetics.

For you, it was a whole ritual to go to the hairdresser and beauty salon. From time to time, you treated yourself to relaxing massages and never skipped your manicure and pedicure sessions. These small moments of self-care helped you stay centered and recharge your energy to face daily stress.

Additionally, sometimes you treated yourself to a full spa day, with sauna, Turkish bath, and facial treatments. You even accompanied these sessions with a good book or listening to your favorite music, which transported you to a state of absolute relaxation.

You had also learned to meditate and practice yoga, two activities that, although difficult at first, had now become essential for your well-being. These practices helped you find balance and maintain calm amidst the daily whirlwind.

So today had been the day to put an end to that period where you had stopped prioritizing yourself, and you finally went back to getting your nails done. You loved the whole process: from the preliminary step of trying to choose the best color while the manicurist showed you the new shades that had arrived, to the moment you saw how delicately she filed your nails to shape and prepare them for painting. You couldn't forget the subsequent massage she gave you, which always left you with a feeling of deep relaxation. Moreover, so many nail sessions had made the manicurist and you very close, and whenever you saw each other, you caught up with enthusiasm.

You were very excited to show Kylian the new nail color you had chosen: "bougainvillea." You had chosen that color remembering how, a week ago, he had praised a dress in that same shade you had seen while walking hand in hand, saying that color would suit you very well.

With that excitement in mind, you decided to put the keys in the car and drive while listening to the new songs you had recently discovered. The music filled the vehicle and made you smile, anticipating Kylian's surprise when he saw your nails.

However, your excitement began to gradually fade as you arrived home and noticed everything was very quiet. There was no noise, and the curtains in your bedroom were drawn. With utmost stealth, you made your way to your room to check what was going on. When you opened the door, you saw Kylian resting face down, with his hand wrapped around the pillow. You watched as his muscles seemed to relax in rhythm with his breathing.

The scene melted your heart. You approached carefully and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him for a few moments. You felt grateful to have someone like him in your life, someone who supported you and made you feel loved.

Seizing this moment, you sat beside him and, with a gentle gesture, stroked his hair. Although he didn’t wake up, a small sigh of contentment escaped his lips. Touched by Kylian’s soft reactions, you turned your gaze to find your bag and reach for your phone, intending to take a photo. That’s when you noticed his feet were uncovered, and a much better idea crossed your mind.

You tried to hold back, convincing yourself that Kylian surely needed his rest, but in the end, you decided to follow this sudden thought, recalling how he used to do this to tease you. So, with great stealth, you got up and approached his feet, starting to gently tickle them. You began by playing with his toes, moving them softly and slipping your fingers between the arches. Kylian stirred a bit in bed, but continued to sleep, so you decided it was time to put your real plan into action.

After a few more massages between his toes, you decided to tickle the soles of his feet. Unable to withstand the tickling, Kylian wiggled so restlessly that he almost kicked you. Annoyed, he let out a grumble and opened his eyes slightly to see who was disturbing his wonderful sleep. Upon opening his eyes, he saw you with a playful expression, although you tried to look annoyed, showing off your nails.

"It looks like no one is going to compliment my nails today," you said with a tone of feigned indignation.

With a soft laugh, Kylian replied, "Darling, they look great, but you could have woken me up without tickling me. I almost kicked your cute face."

"Very funny! But well, you can’t do anything about it now. I’m leaving you here to rest," you said, trying to pull away.

"Not a chance," Kylian retorted, quickly getting up to scoop you into his arms and put you back on the bed, knowing what was about to happen. Kylian wanted revenge and was going to give you the same treatment.

He quickly started tickling you, tracing his fingers all around the soles of your feet. The room was soon filled with your laughter, which triggered Kylian’s contagious laughter. While he couldn’t stop laughing knowing his girlfriend was now getting the revenge she deserved, he couldn’t help but think about how soft your feet were and how sensitive they were to his touch.

Taking advantage of this, he grabbed a soft feather and began to stroke all the curves and arches of your feet, running the feather around your toes. You felt a surge of intense sensations and twisted even more, laughing uncontrollably.

“No, Kylian, that tickles even more!” you yelled through your laughter, trying unsuccessfully to pull your feet away.

“Oh, really?” Kylian said with a mischievous grin. “Then I’ll keep going a little longer.” The feather glided smoothly, causing a mix of laughter and desperation.

After a while, both of you were exhausted from laughing. Kylian finally stopped tickling and lay down beside you, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I couldn’t resist,” he said, kissing you on the forehead. “Your feet are just irresistible.”

“Don’t worry,” you replied, still smiling. “It was fun, though definitely unexpected.”

Kylian looked at you with affection. “I love you, you know? These moments with you are what make everything worthwhile.”

“And I love you,” you said, snuggling closer to him. “Thanks for always making me laugh, even when I don’t expect it.”

You both stayed there, enjoying the tranquility and closeness of the moment. Despite the jokes and tickling, you knew that the love and respect you had for each other were what truly mattered.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #mbappe imagine #mbappe psg #mbappe x reader

101 notes · View notes

cinnaleaf · 1 month ago

Text

ESSENCE OF US - CH 11: I COULD BE FOREVER**

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 10 | MASTERLIST | READ CH 12

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: ANGST, SMUT (makeup sex w pillowtalk), fluff, language, mentions of anxiety, smau wc: ~8.8k 💌: best smut scene i've written imo..nothing but pure love. share thoughts in inbox! tysm ♡

On your way back to the suite, the scent of essential oils from your aromatherapy massage clung to your skin. Things were still tense with Trent and you found yourself wishing you were still submerged in the comfort of the thermal bath back at the spa. After spending half the day receiving spa treatments, you should’ve felt stress free, but you were far from it. There was no amount of luxuriousness from the spa that could ease the incessant nagging feeling in your mind. When you opened the door, Trent glanced up from packing his luggage and smiled softly at you, but you could see the uneasiness in his eyes.

“Feeling better?” he asked in a gentle voice, as if the hours spent away at the spa erased the strain between the two of you. You smiled, shrugging slightly. “The spa helped a little...thank you.” You took a deep breath, your gaze drifting to your unpacked luggage. “I still feel so overwhelmed honestly.” Trent walked over to you, grazing his hand over the small of your back.

“Come back with me? We can talk about it on the plane.” he asked quietly. “I gotta leave soon…”

You hesitated for a second, almost like you were contemplating it, but you had already made a decision back at the spa after seeing the comments about your brother on social media. “I..I’m gonna head back with Camille and the twins,” you mumbled, not being able to look him directly in the eye. “I need to go to my parents house for a bit.” Just hearing those words come out of your mouth made you feel sick, you didn’t really want to go back there, but you had to. Your body tensed the minute it came out of your mouth and Trent noticed immediately. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You don’t have to go there if you don’t want to,” he murmured as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You want me to go with you? We can go to–”

“Trent, no.” you sighed, leaning your head into his shoulder. “I need to go alone. You being there probably isn’t the best idea...they’re intense,” you whispered in a shaky breath.

You didn’t tell Trent the entire history you had with your parents, but he knew enough to know you hated being around them. They wanted you to carry your family name a certain way, and with Rêveur and Ziggy in the mix, they would definitely be in full control mode, ready to critique and advise like they were being helpful; in reality, they were just adding to the insurmountable pressure. They liked Trent, but not for the right reasons. It was all about status to them, and you couldn’t handle that right now. Their idea of love was conditional, only presenting when you met their expectations of playing the role of the perfect eldest daughter.

“They like you Trent..” you started, your eyes filling with tears. “But they love the status your name gives them when it’s next to mine more. I don’t want you to experience that.”

Trent’s hold on you tightened, silently giving you the space to let you talk. “I don’t get why they’re like that.” You started sobbing as you continued, “They’ll never see you the way I see you…”

Trent could’ve been anyone that day on the train and you would’ve loved him just the same. It didn’t matter that he was Trent Alexander-Arnold. He pulled you in from the start, with just a hoodie and his sunnies on. You thought about those serendipitous moments with Trent often – it always felt like a bend of truth so striking that time itself slowed down just to take in the curve. The universe made sure you would find him, no matter where you were in the world.

But your parents would never see the beauty of love or fate, they only saw what his double-barreled name next to yours meant for their own pursuit of excellence and perfection. It was part of the reason you always freaked out any time Trent made a joke about marriage. He was serious underneath all the teasing, so you knew the question would eventually come the longer you stayed together, but you also knew your parents would latch onto your relationship like it was a milestone in their own success – which left you feeling chilled to the bone.

Trent nodded with an intense expression, like he wanted to shield you from all of it. “I understand,” he said softly.

“You don’t though” you replied, voice trembling. “There’s so much going on. This trip was supposed to be fun and it’s all fucked up now.”

“Baby..” Trent said in a pleading voice, his hands steady on your waist. “Tell me what you need. I hate seeing you like this.” He scanned your face, taking in the glow from the spa treatments that didn’t match the tired, watery look in your eyes. Your breath hitched as anxiety started clawing at your thoughts.

“People think I’m only with you because of my brother. They think I’m using you to help him with football.”

“Y/N” Trent interjected firmly with conviction. “I don’t give a fuck about any of that. They don’t know you like I do.” You shook your head, taking a step back to put more space between you. “It’s not just that” you snapped, your voice strained. “Camille had to bail me out again with the launch mess up. I shouldn’t even have to rely on her like that. I’m so stressed.”

Trent reached out to you, but you stepped back again with tears blurring your vision.

“And then you..” Your voice broke as emotion thickened in your throat. “I love you T..but I don’t feel like I’m strong enough for any of this. Sometimes I just want to run away from everything. Why is everything so fucking hard?” Your body flipped into fight-or-flight mode, skin growing hot and vision tunnelling. Trent took one look at you and immediately closed the gap between you in seconds, guiding you to sit down while he knelt down beside you.

“Look at me.” he started, voice commanding but calm. “None of this is permanent. People will get their orders eventually, there’ll be a new story in the next hour..and we’ll figure everything out. It’s just temporary, baby.” You nodded weakly, as he took your hands in his, massaging your pressure points in calming circles. You felt yourself coming back down to earth, slowly being pulled back to reality. His love was constant and unfaltering, even when everything else felt clouded in your universe.

“Where did you learn that?” you whispered, your breaths finally slowing down.

“Learned it from you. At the park.”

You scrunched your face, confused at his statement. “What?”

You shook your head. “We’ve never been to a park together, Trent. Wrong girlfriend.” you scoffed playfully, but you were somewhat serious at the same time, because who the hell did he have you confused with?

Trent cleared his throat, trying to suppress a laugh. “Nah, baby it was you. It wasn’t recent..but when you were younger, you used to sit in the grass with Ezzie doing this exact thing.”

Suddenly a memory washed over you like a developing polaroid picture:

You were sitting in the grass, carefully crafting the perfect daisy flower crown for Ezzie. She was sitting right next to you, talking nonstop about some Peppa Pig episode where Peppa didn’t know how to whistle. You were barely paying attention to her yapping, focusing solely on making the flower crown perfect as you meticulously weaved the stems so it wouldn’t fall apart. Your sister beamed when you put the crown on her head – making her look like a little flower princess. It made you smile too, despite your anxious thoughts.

Trent looked at your face as you tried to piece things together and pulled out his phone, scrolling through old pictures until he stopped on one and handed it to you, making your eyes widen in shock.

The picture’s quality wasn’t as crystal clear like today’s photos, but it was clear enough to make your boyfriend’s statement make more sense. Trent was in the middle, holding your brother in his arms. Ziggy’s cheeks were round like little apples, with two deep dimples on each side of his face; he beamed up at Trent as if he was the most important person in the world. Their smiles mirrored each other’s, shining a perfect reflection for the camera to capture. Your brother clung to him with so much trust, his tiny arms around Trent’s neck like he never wanted to let go. Both of them looked so overjoyed, looking like they spent the majority of the day having a kickabout while laughing in the sun. Your brother was always the littlest one joining the older boys, but they welcomed him with open arms each time, especially Trent. In the background, you were sitting off to the side with your sister, not aware of the camera at all as you placed the daisy crown on Ezzie’s head. You saw yourself smiling, entirely focused on your sister. Ezzie was mid giggle, probably still talking about how Peppa hung up on Suzy sheep after learning she could whistle; her little hands clutched the sides of the flower crown you made. Your heart skipped a beat when you remembered the older boy who ran up with your brother in his arms shortly after. He looked at you funny while you sat in the grass, rubbing the skin between your index finger and thumb. It was a way to self soothe yourself when you were feeling anxious, but you didn’t know how to explain whatever you were feeling at the time, you were just a teenager.

Trent stood there awkwardly after setting your brother down. “Uh..what….what are you doing?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to tease you or just walk away. Neither of you knew each other back then; he only knew that you were the little boy’s older sister who always sat in the grass doing weird things with her hands like making flower crowns and picking at grass. His question made you feel flustered, you didn’t know how to explain the real reason for your self soothing so you panicked and made something up.

“Umm. I’m..uhh..practising sign language..?” though your statement sounded more like a question than a definitive answer.

The second the words left your mouth you wanted to die right there. You couldn’t meet his eyes, and instead your fingers fidgeted with the flowers on Ezzie’s head. Trent gave you the weirdest look but he looked slightly amused as well.

“Err..okay. See ya.” he replied before turning away to jog back toward his friends.

“He’s funny!” Ziggy chirped with excitement as he watched Trent leave. You glanced down at your brother, trying to mask your embarrassment. “What’s his name?” you asked casually, though your heart was beating a little faster.

Ziggy shrugged, skipping around as you started to walk to the exit of the park. “Dunno.”

Of course he didn’t know. How convenient.

As the three of you made your way home from the park, the twins exchanged a look – the one twins do when they can speak to each other without saying anything out loud. Suddenly, they burst into giggles, unable to keep whatever secret they shared telepathically.

“You like him!!” Ezzie spoke in an animated voice. Before you could react, your brother facepalmed dramatically. “Agh, NOOO! I found him first!” he exclaimed, like him and Trent had some unspoken bond that you were threatening. You were extremely mortified by how loud they were yelling about it.

So what? Maybe he was a little cute, but he also annoyed you for some reason.

“NO! I don’t like him!” you blurted out in a defensive tone. “He stinks. And I already have a boyfriend anyway!” The boyfriend in question? He didn’t exist at all, but you couldn’t have your younger siblings pressing you like this. The twins weren’t phased at all – they insisted on giggling and making smooching sounds all the way home to tease you.

In the present day, you stared at the photo, realizing Trent was the boy who always kept your brother entertained when your thoughts were miles away.

“That was you?!” you asked in disbelief. “Why are you just now saying something??”

Trent shrugged, his lips tugging into a soft smile. “I didn’t know either until your brother told me! Just saw him at the gym with my old boots.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck because he was a little hesitant to dive into the full conversation he had with your brother – the one about where he really belongs. Trent glanced at his phone and checked the time, sighing. “I gotta head out soon..” he said, looking back at you with uncertainty as he stood up. “Uh..are we good? Are we okay?? I'm sorry for the way I reacted.”

Your gaze softened as you took a deep breath. “Yeah Trent, we’re okay. I forgive you but..”

You stumbled over your words for a second, trying to gather your thoughts. “I don’t like it when you get jealous like that. I’d never even think about entertaining someone else when I’m with you.”

He nodded with regret evident in his brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I messed up..and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

You smiled, getting up and wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a tight hug. “Go catch your flight before you miss it, baby,” you murmured while pressing soft kisses against his full lips. Trent didn’t respond back, and instead deepened the kiss while his hands settled on your waist – he began walking you backward, slowly guiding you toward the door.

“Call me when you make it back?” you whispered between kisses, your breath catching from his touch.

“Mm yeah I will. I love you.” he replied softly, his voice full of affection as he pressed you up against the door. He didn’t want to leave you, but he sure was cutting it close to missing that plane.

“I love you so much..” you affirmed as the intensity between you built. “I’m sorry for being such a mess–”

“Don’t care. Love all of you.” he whispered, grazing his lips on the sensitive skin on your neck. You tilted your head as he moved down to kiss your collarbone. “Wish you would come with me. I know we’re always together, but it never feels like enough time. Ever since I met you..I'm always wishing for more time with you.” Trent’s voice was filled with longing, like he was yearning and begging for you to come with him. You laughed softly, raking your fingers between his curls to massage his scalp. “You’ll be fine Trent. I’ll be back soon.”

“Good,” he muttered, suddenly sounding a lot more seductive with his tone. He pressed you harder against the door, slipping his leg between yours to send warmth cascading through your body. “Need to show you how sorry I am…” His lips brushed against your ear, his voice titillating. “Next time I see you, I want you sitting on my face.”

You whimpered, feeling your body reacting instinctively to his words. “Why are you doing this to meee?” you groaned, biting your lip – the frustration of knowing you wouldn’t see him for some days had you wanting to sit on his face right now, but he had a plane to catch.

He laughed against your skin, moving back to your neck to kiss you again, just enough to make you gasp. “Just reminding you that your apology is waiting for you when you come back home.”

With one final kiss, he pulled away to grab his luggage before heading out the door. You peeked out the door as he walked down the hallway. “Love you, dreamer boy!” you called out, blowing him kisses. Trent was grinning from ear to ear, walking backwards as he jumped in the air, pretending to catch your kisses which made you laugh. He smiled back at you, happy he managed to get a couple of smiles out of you before he left despite the whirlwind of bullshit that occurred the past 24 hours.

Love takes on countless forms but at its core, it involves the art of forgiveness. It’s an unspoken reminder that we’re all inherently flawed and destined to make mistakes. Yet, despite those imperfections, love endures all when we allow grace. It thrives in those moments of mercy when we choose to forgive rather than walk away. Forgiving someone when they falter means knowing it’s not perfection that sustains love, but the willingness to embrace it through an inevitable misstep. With Trent, this was more apparent than ever. He wasn’t perfect, and neither were you despite your attempts. The way he stayed close, still giving you space in your moments of doubt while he asked for forgiveness, reminded you love isn’t always easy. It wasn’t always about laughter, sometimes there were going to be storms that involved torrential downpour. But offering forgiveness and receiving it allowed the two of you to deepen the connection and love even harder than before.

Later on the plane, Trent found himself scrolling through his phone – he was staring at the photo of him holding Ziggy again, but this time he was zoomed in on the background, where you sat with Ezzie, placing the flower crown on her head. Then he switched over to Instagram, the most recent post on his feed was one of yours he already liked, but he didn’t really look at it until now. The first picture was of you and Ezzie glammed up for the gala, both of you smiling into the camera. Ezzie was leaning into you, looking exactly like the type of little sister who treasured and adored her older sister. When he swiped over, the next photo showed Ezzie with her back turned toward the camera while she snapped a mirror picture of you gently fixing her hair and smiling – very reminiscent of how you were in the background of the older photo. It wasn’t a flower crown this time, but he did realize something else. You were always making sure things were right for the people you loved the most, even if it meant sacrificing your own peace. You weren’t just living for yourself, you were making sure your siblings had everything they needed to live their dreams just like you; it made sense to him why you said you needed to focus now.

Trent kept staring at the older picture and the newer pictures, flipping back and forth as a thought orbited around his mind.

There’s no way I’m not marrying this girl.

A couple of days passed since your return to England with your siblings. When you arrived at your parents house, the home looked just like you remembered the last time you visited, almost two years ago. Its red bricks were painfully perfect, not a scratch on the paint in sight on the sage colored front door. Inside, it was spotless – it looked more like a showroom than a home that a family of four lived in.

Your parents moved to this house after you left home, trading in the warmth of your lived-in childhood home for this sterile suburban clusterfuck of a neighbourhood. The guest room was just as cold and void of any personality as the rest of the home. The bed was neatly made with crisp white linens, but it looked more like it was for decoration than comfort. You couldn’t tell if they actually liked living like this or if it was just another box for them to check off in their quest for perfection. They loved attention.

Ziggy started gaining more attention after the gala, and it made your skin crawl thinking about how it could turn out with your parents around. You didn’t want him getting a huge ego over it, you knew better than anyone else what it could do to his life and how it could distort reality. He was still your little brother and you didn’t want that for him. You also didn’t want anyone making any decisions for him. Ezzie was also more quiet than usual, like she was battling something internally, so you needed to keep an eye on her too. Based on your previous experience, wasn’t something your parents would ever notice.

During dinner, you stared at your mother’s knife as she shuffled it back and forth over her chicken.

For someone so ‘perfect’, you sure do make a dry ass chicken.

The conversation at the dinner table was filled with awkward pauses between bites. You could feel the interrogation incoming before they even opened their mouths – it didn’t take long.

“So, Y/N” your mother began, voice tight. “How’s Trent? Haven’t met him yet.”

And thank god for that. You’re never meeting him as long as I have anything to do with it.

You forced a smile, sitting up straighter out of instinct. The last thing you wanted them to do was meet Trent. That would be a disaster.

“He’s great.” you replied very casually. “We’re just taking things slow.”

That was a lie. Nothing about your relationship was slow at all, you were already with him for months by this point. You were fully in it, but telling them that would only fuel their curiosity and you wanted them to back off. Your dad cleared his throat and shifted his focus to your brother. “Talk to that scout yet, Isaac?” he asked, eyeing your brother like this was a corporate business meeting and not a family dinner. Ziggy shrugged, pushing food around his plate. “Uh, yeah..I talked to a few people at the gala.”

A frown creased your face remembering the flood of comments after the event that thrusted your brother into a spotlight you didn't think he was ready for. You were hardly ready for it yourself. Your dad on the other hand, seemed pleased with Ziggy’s answer and nodded with an approved look. Ziggy’s face relaxed, like he was relieved his quick answer was enough to stop your dad from interrogating him further.

Your mum turned her gaze toward Ezzie, eyes narrowing as she surveyed your sister’s posture. “Esme.” she began in a sharp voice. “Beauty doesn’t last forever..you need to be realistic. Modelling is a phase not a career. You’ll have to start thinking more like your sister.”

Though you couldn’t tell if she was referring to owning a business, or getting in a relationship with someone very successful.

Ezzie’s face fell, the light in her eyes dimming while she absorbed your mum’s comment. Your fists clenched under the table, trying to resist the urge to snap. She was trying to make Ezzie feel like her dreams weren’t valid, the same way she did to you at first..until you made something of it.

“Mum,” you said firmly. “She’s fine. Modelling is a real job.”

Another awkward silence followed after your statement. Ezzie was picking at her food, meanwhile your father chewed his chicken like there was nothing wrong with it..or the atmosphere your mother just created. Your sister shifted around uncomfortably, stealing a glance at you for reassurance. You gave her a comforting smile, although you were pissed off your mum had the nerve to say that without thinking twice about what that type of comment could do to a teenager’s brain.

After dinner, you went to check on your brother to make sure the sudden public attention wasn’t going to his head. He was on his gaming setup, chatting with his friends while streaming on Twitch. You stood in the doorway, listening in for a second away from his webcam’s view.

“Bro this camera angle is extra close. I feel insecure as fuck right now. There's 4,000 viewers in here. Who are these people?” one of his friends said, making Ziggy laugh.

“Mate, just tilt it up” Ziggy responded in a casual tone, completely immersed in the gaming world. “E set mine up. It’s perfect now.” You smiled at the mention of your sister, but then you noticed how fast the chat on his stream was moving. Ziggy’s expression hardened when he saw a rude comment mentioning you. “Mods ban that guy.” he snapped, annoyance on his face. “I’m just here to game with the lads. Leave my sister out of it.” You smiled, feeling pride surge through you. He was still your little brother, but he was learning how to handle things in the spotlight – better than you were handling things, honestly.

“I’m out.” you announced. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, sure” Ziggy replied, barely looking away from the screen as he shouted gamer terms you didn’t really understand. You shook your head laughing, leaving him to whatever game he was playing while you made your way to Ezzie’s bedroom.

She was standing in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection as he traced over her body, mentally picking herself apart.

“Hey” you spoke softly. “You’re sooo beautiful you know that, right?”

She didn’t immediately answer, but then whispered. “But when am I going to look like you? You have the perfect body.” You sighed, pressing your cheek against her shoulder. “I definitely do not have the perfect body, trust. Plus, you’re wearing 15 better than me girl. I looked awkward as hell back then..but growing up takes time.”

“But Mum said-”

“Don’t listen to Mum and Dad,” you cut in. “They chat a lot of shit for people who don’t know how to live life realistically. Nearly choked on that chicken earlier.” Your sister giggled, but you could tell she was still a bit upset. “I get why you barely come back,” she muttered. “I don’t think I’ll come back either.” Her words made you sad, but you couldn’t disagree with her. You didn’t want your siblings spending any more time than necessary under these circumstances. You wanted them to be free to chase their dreams without feeling suffocated by your parents.

That night, you spent time in your sister’s room scrolling through Instagram until you noticed a DM from Miu Miu. They wanted to send you something after seeing the ‘Tea with T’ video. You smiled, but then your thoughts drifted to Ezzie. You typed out your response quickly, pitching an idea for them to send something for your sister as well. You mentioned her interest in modelling and subtly suggested she could market for a younger audience. The message was professional, but simple enough for them to get the hint.

Later, after your sister fell asleep, Trent video called you. You got up to walk back to the guest room before answering. The room made it feel like you were thousands of miles away from the comfort of his home, where you really wanted to be. His smiling face filled the screen, making you feel giddy inside.

“Hi baby,” you spoke softly.

Except, he didn’t greet you and was eager to start yapping once he saw your face. “When are you coming home? I miss you.”

“Not sure yet.” you replied, keeping your voice light. You were planning on surprising him for the match coming up. “You keep calling your house ‘home’..but I have my own place, remember?”

He scoffed dramatically, shifting the phone to show the empty space next to him in bed. “It’s your home too. This is where you belong.”

You laughed, giggling at his dramatics. “T, I don’t even sleep on that side. You’re laying on my side, baby.”

“Oh, I am?” His voice dropped to a playful tone. “Come home so I don’t forget which side is yours then.”

The camera shifted as Trent removed his shirt, his chest and abs highlighted by the dim lighting from the bedroom. He positioned the camera so you could see everything, including the bulge outlined on his boxers.

“Trent..” you muttered, biting your lip. “You’re being so cruel right now.”

He laughed but eventually switched the conversation back to something more innocent. After the usual exchange of “I love you’s”, you went back to Ezzie’s room and slipped into bed beside her.

You spent the next few days at your parents house, shuffling between going back and forth from Les Notes d’Amour and back home to make sure your siblings were okay. The night before the match, you felt like everything settled down enough for you to go back home to Trent. You arrived at Trent’s house a little later than you originally planned, spending most of the day swamped with work. By the time you got there, it was nearly midnight. You took your shoes off by the front door and quietly padded up to the bedroom. Trent was already in bed asleep, so you stood in the doorway for a second to admire how handsome he looked. You were careful not to wake him as you got ready for bed and crawled beside him, naturally fitting your body in the space next to his. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and snuggled in closer, draping your arm over his neck. His body heat seeped into your skin, the comfort allowing you to drift off to sleep easily.

Trent woke up before you the next morning, shifting his body around as he blinked and saw your face just barely peeking through beneath the blankets. He was surprised at first, but then he propped himself up to watch you sleep, debating on whether he wanted to wake you up just to hear your voice – but for now, he let you sleep. Eventually, you stirred in your sleep, groggy and disoriented as you felt warmth hovering extremely close to your face. You opened your eyes slowly, seeing Trent staring back at you with a wide grin.

“Oh my god! What the fuck?!” you yelped, jumping back slightly as your heart rate increased. Trent started laughing and he pulled you on top of him with ease. “Damn it’s like that?..good morning to you too.”

“Trent, that’s so creepy!” you said jokingly, stroking the facial hair on his chin. “Why were you watching me sleep??”

He casually ran his hands up and down your back as you shifted your position to lay on his chest while on top of him. “Because I like looking at you.” he replied, his voice deep and raspy from the morning. “Best view in the world. In the universe, actually.” You smiled, enjoying the feeling of an early lazy morning while you laid against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart under your ear, but eventually you had to get up.

“I have to pee,” you whispered apologetically, wriggling out of his grip.

Trent groaned dramatically, “Come back to bed after.”

“Noo.” you giggled. “You need to get ready.”

Trent’s eyes were on you the entire time as you walked to head to the bathroom, you closed the door while he still lay in bed. “Trent, seriously. Get up.. we can be lazy tomorrow.” you yelled from the bathroom, your instinct picking up that he hadn’t moved from the bed just yet.

When you opened the door, Trent was sitting up, yawning and stretching lazily. You rolled your eyes but the view was very, very nice. He was still a little groggy and the morning light casted a soft glow on his toned, muscled skin. You snapped yourself out of it and went to the sink to start your morning routine, Trent following closely behind. You were trying to brush your teeth, but the moment he saw you, he pressed you up against the countertop from behind.

“You’re like..stage five clinger status right now babe,” you mumbled through the foam, though you enjoyed the feeling a little too much. Trent grabbed his toothbrush, one hand draped across your chest to lock you in while he brushed his teeth, the other hand staying glued to your hips. The smallest touch was driving you insane. You caught yourself eyeing the veins in his hands, nearly moaning at the sight.

Oh my god..what is wrong with me? I want to climb him right now.

You rinsed your mouth, mostly to stop yourself from fawning over the reflection of him in the mirror because it was all too much. His toned arms flexed as he continued brushing, the veins running up and down his forearms.

After finishing up your morning routine, you pulled away to get dressed and he tilted his head back sighing, like you were punishing him. “Y/N..come on..” he pleaded, reaching out as you sifted through the clothes in your shared walk-in wardrobe.

“The match? Anfield? Liverpool’s vice-captain? Any of those words sound familiar to you??” you joked, shoving a tracksuit in his hands. “You’re acting like I was away for months..we’ve gone longer before. Save that energy for the game baby.”

“Yeah.. and I didn’t like it when you were away then either. You should just move in,” he declared as he got dressed in his matchday tracksuit. You rolled your eyes, handing him his wash bag with a sweet smile.

“I’ll think about it...just go.” you teased, pushing his chest lightly. “I’ll come find you after the match. Do your best for me, yeah? Don’t embarrass me.”

He kissed his teeth, acting like he was annoyed by your comment. “Nah. See this?” he toyed with the ‘T’ necklace around your neck. “You’re my good luck charm. If you’re watching, I’m winning.”

As corny as his statement was, it almost made you fold immediately. You felt your skin heat up so you took a deep breath to try and gain some composure. “Go to work Trent! Get out!” you laughed, shoving him out the door before you changed your mind.

When you made it to Anfield, you sat in the box with Trent’s family. Today wasn’t like the first time you went to one of his matches – back when the pressure of being seen made it hard to focus on anything. You were more comfortable today, feeling the warmth you missed when you were away at your parent’s house. Trent’s family had already welcomed you into their world a few months ago, and you never felt out of place.

Trent’s mum greeted you with a hug as you sat down, the nostalgic scent of Enchantée wafted in the air. It was the very first scent you made that catapulted you to where you were now. You thought for a second, thinking about the butterfly effect. If he was never there that day at the park, would your brother still be interested in footie? If you never made Enchantée in uni would you have met him some other way? You wouldn’t have been on the train or at the Paris launch, after all. It was weird to think about.

You broke out of your thoughts when you saw Trent with the ball. He had the perfect opening, and he took the shot as the ball sailed into the top corner of the net. The crowd erupted in a deafening roar and you stood up, cheering with his family as he did his iconic ‘A’ celebration for his niece. But then he did something else.

He mimicked mixing something in an imaginary bowl, just like you told him you used to do as a child in your parent’s kitchen. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pretended he was spraying something in the air as a nod to your career. You giggled, feeling a sense of pride wash over you. There was no doubt about who that goal celebration was for.

“I think that one’s for you,” his mum leaned over, her smile filled with adoration for the relationship you shared with her son.

“Ew,” Marcel chimed in, shaking his head. “You turned my brother into a melt.” The smile on his face told a different story though.

The match ended with a solid win, and you walked down with his family to meet up with him. His mum mentioned something about going out for dinner; Trent had other plans that involved lots of eating..but not food. His eyes drank you in the minute he saw you, wasting no time to come up with an excuse. “Yeah about that..can we do it later this week? Got some big things booked that I gotta work on tomorrow…” he said, far from subtle because Tyler definitely didn’t have him booked for anything monumental.

You shot him a look, trying to stifle your laughter as he continued. “Think it’s best if we just head home. I..uh..need to rest for that.” Trent slipped his arm around you, pulling you in as he spoke, not realizing he was making the real reason blatantly obvious with his body language.

Tyler shook his head, laughing. “Sure, mate.” He knew he didn’t have anything big booked either, he knew what type of time his brother was on.

Once you made it back to the house, you wandered to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. “Are you hungry?” you called out. “I can make something really fast.”

You started listing off a few options, trying to stay mindful of the protein intake needed for muscle recovery after a match. He clearly gave no shits about his protein intake, and instead found his way underneath your top, ghosting over your covered nipples.

“Nah. I'm good. Wanna eat you though.”

You were folding very quickly. His voice already had you wet, and you had every intention of making a protein filled snack for him..but your hormones had other ideas. You leaned back into his chest, trying to collect yourself, but his grip tightened and he pulled you away from the fridge. “C’mere” he whispered, leading you upstairs to the bedroom. He was already peeling off both of your clothes the moment the door shut. Trent laid naked on the bed, his eyes full of love and arousal. “You remember what I said on the phone, yeah?”

His voice had you pressing your thighs together. “C’mere so I can apologize. Sit on my face and ride my tongue baby.”

You climbed on top of him, hovering just above his lips as you took the sight of him in. He looked up at you, licking his lips before gripping your thighs and pulling you down, making you gasp.

The first flick of his tongue sent a whip of pleasure surging through you. You gasped, instinctively rolling your hips against him. Trent hummed against you, the vibration making you moan even more as you grinded down on him further, desperate for more. His tongue was relentless as he worked over your folds with ultraprecision, his tongue danced against your clit just the way you liked it. Your loud moans filled the room as you gripped his head, lightly scratching his scalp. “Trent..” you gasp in a breathless voice. “You’re making me feel so good.”

He obviously couldn’t respond with words, but he definitely responded with his tongue by applying more pressure and rhythm. You were so close and your body started to tremble as the winding pleasure grew tighter and tighter in your core. You started to squirm, but his grip on your thighs tightened to hold you in place as he drove you to a powerful orgasm. Your mouth was wide open as the orgasm powered through you, it was so intense you were shaking..but he didn’t stop. He kept lapping at you, working you through until the sensation became overwhelming. The pleasure kept stretching for what felt like forever, and you could barely catch your breath.

“Oh my god..I’m still cumming,” you whimpered, writhing above him. It was too much but you couldn’t stop, nor could you move as his mouth kept you on the line of euphoria. You tilted your head back, eyes rolling and gripping his head.

“Okay..okay, baby..please” you managed to get out, still breathless and shaking. You grabbed his hands that were gripping your thighs to give him the hint you needed a break. He pulled away slowly, his lips glistening from your wet essence.

Trent gave you about ten minutes tops to recuperate before he was right back on you, pressing his body against yours. He placed your knees up to your chest, pinning you in place. His thick dick teased your entrance before sliding deep inside of you, making both of you moan in unison. Your nails dug into his jaw as you gripped his face, your breaths heavy and eyes locked on each other. Eventually, his eyes dropped down to watch himself disappear into your slick folds, the feeling of him finally being inside you made you clench around him. He groaned from the sensation, his mouth slightly falling open as he looked back up at you with his lips parted in awe. Your hands stayed firm on his face to keep him close, taking in his handsome lust filled face.

“Harder baby” you whispered, voice trembling with need.

Trent’s powerful quads flexed as he obeyed, snapping his hips harder against you in targeted thrusts. Every stroke was intense and the wet sounds of your bodies colliding with each other filled the space, echoing off the walls as his pace quickened.

“Y/N…” he gasped, feeling you tighten around him involuntarily with every thrust. “Fuck. Keep squeezing me like that.” He started thrusting into you faster at the perfect angle, hitting a spot inside of you that made your moans rise in cadence. “Right there? Is that the spot?” he rasped, already knowing from the way your body was reacting beneath him.

You nodded frantically, your thumb brushing over his lip before pulling him into a kiss to tangle your tongue with his in the heat of the moment. His hips drove into you harder, the strength in his quads powering every motion. “Need you to cum for me my love.”

The sounds of the room left love letters stamped upon your skin, every thrust an ‘X’, every moan an ‘O’. Trent’s fingers found your clit, rubbing deliberate swirling circles to bring you closer to another orgasm. You were gasping his name over and over, feeling yourself come closer to the brink.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

“Me too, baby,” he moaned, pressing his head against yours while his cock started to twitch inside of you.

The moment you both came, neither of you looked away from each other. Both of you were moaning each other’s names and whispering “I love you” over and over between ragged breaths while you pulsed around him and he spilled inside of you. Trent pulled out of you slowly, taking a deep breath. His hand slipped between your legs, gently running his fingers over your swollen folds as he pushed his cum back inside of you with a deliberate touch. He laid beside you, placing soft kisses along your neck while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. After some time, he wrapped his arms around you, draping over you protectively as you came down from the aftershocks. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, you could barely move. You broke the silence with a sleepy mumble, ready for some pillow talk yapping before going to sleep.

“You ever think about kids? Like..not right now obviously,” you added quickly in a soft voice. “But..eventually?”

He shifted slightly, pulling you in closer. “Yeah someday..but not now.” he agreed in a casual tone, but there was a smile on his face like he was almost picturing what that would look like for him. Neither of you wanted kids right now, but you weren’t really being all that careful about it either. There was a tiny voice in the back of your mind that remembered the basics of biology, but you knew your body pretty well. You weren’t going in completely blind..you knew what was up.

But still…isn’t it funny how caution can be tossed aside when you’re in a dickmatized state like the one you just had with Trent?

You laughed to yourself at the thought, but Trent peeped it.

“What’s so funny?” he asked curiously.

“Oh..it’s just…we’re not really that careful about it, T.” you replied, your voice filled with drowsiness. “I usually know when I’m ovulating though..so I think we’re good.”

“Baby..my pullout game is weak with you. Maybe we should stop pushing our luck. Kinda playing with fire innit?”

“Yeah maybe,” you replied sleepily. “But would you want kids with me?”

He kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin. “Yeah, I would. I think you would make an amazing mummy. But only when we’re ready, yeah? Maybe in two or three years?” It felt like he thought about this before, he seemed very sure of his answer – down to the timeline.

You blinked, still half asleep. “Good to know.. but I’m not having your kids without a ring on my finger.” The words came out in a sleepy haze. You were kind of terrified of marriage for a number of reasons, but in your disoriented state your subconscious admitted you were somewhat open to it with him. You closed your eyes as his hands moved to stroke your arm lazily.

A few quiet seconds passed before he broke the silence, speaking in a soft tone. “So you think I could be forever for you then?”

You smiled, nodding your head as you nuzzled in closer to him, starting to drift off to sleep. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “The love of my life..forever.”

A few weeks later, you arrived at Les Notes d’Amour to handle a sample shipment of Rêveur from the manufacturer Camille helped you with. Tara and Ember were busy handling an influx of shipments and inquiries, but you were too on edge to focus on anything they were doing at the moment. Camille handed you the shipment before walking off to go set up a sample display for another fragrance of yours. You opened the box to unwrap the first bottle, spritzing it in the air to take a deep breath.

This doesn’t smell right. It’s off.

You couldn’t tell what was missing, but something about the scent wasn’t sitting well with you like it usually did. It didn’t smell like the same Rêveur you spent crafting all night for Trent after your first date. Maybe it was because it was mass produced and not created in a small batch like you originally wanted?

“Camille” you called out, voice low but sharp enough to grab her attention from across the building. She glanced up at you, giving you a confused look as she walked over.

“Smell this.” you said, handing her the bottle. “It doesn’t smell right.”

Camille took a whiff and gave you a puzzled look. “Y/N..it literally smells the exact same. Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe,” you sighed in frustration, leaning against the counter. “I’m so stressed out and exhausted. My body is so done with me too. My period is late..you know it’s bad when that happens.” Camille’s eyes widened and she glanced at your stomach. “Any nausea?” she asked playfully, but she was serious too.

You shook your head, confused at what she was trying to infer. “Umm..well..I felt sick yesterday but that’s because I barely had time to eat all day. What does that have to–”

“Girl…you’re pregnant.” Camille declared, crossing her arms. “Are we happy? Are we sad? Let me know so I can react the right way.”

Your jaw dropped at her statement. “WHAT?! Are you mad?!” you whispered sharply. “I track when I’m ovulating..hasn’t failed me yet. I’m definitely not pregnant. That’s impossible.”

You were in your 20s, having regular unprotected sex with your boyfriend, but sure… maybe it was ‘impossible’. Or maybe you were just a bit delusional? Who knows, really.

“Ah, we’re in the denial stage? Got it.” Camille teased, giving you a sly grin. “I can’t believe you’re making me an auntie already!”

“Oh, so now I’m pregnant because I felt sick one time yesterday?” you replied sarcastically, shaking your head. “I really don’t think I am..” Camille playfully reached out, placing her hand on your stomach like there was already a growing baby in there. “If you deep it..it makes sense. Maybe double check..just in case?”

You swatted her hand away with a laugh, “Stop! I’m not!!”

Internally, you were freaking out. This was not in your five year plan. To be fair, this wasn’t in any plan unless it involved a ring on your finger first. You were not the type of girl to give a man a baby without crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s..even if it was Trent. But you slowly started connecting the dots, realizing there were a couple of intense sessions where the two of you could’ve been more careful.. and everything suddenly became a lot less funny.

Vivid dreams? Check. Sensitive to touch? Yup. Moody? Always. Weird sense of smell? Maybe… You had already been yawning the entire day, so exhaustion? Double check..no brainer.

What if Camille is right? Wait..no. Absolutely the fuck not. I can’t be. That would ruin everything.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought out of your mind. You knew your body, you told yourself. This was just stress..but why were the symptoms so fucking similar? Who decided that was a good idea??

You didn’t know it, but Tara and Ember had just rounded the corner at the perfect moment and heard the words ‘So now I’m pregnant’ and nothing else. They exchanged shocked looks, frantically whispering to each other while you were completely unaware they were listening in.

“She’s pregnant?!”

Without thinking, Tara whipped her phone out to snap a sneaky picture of Camille’s hand on your stomach, her fingers flew across the screen rapidly while she texted her footie group chat:

Tara: *1 attachment sent* GUYSSSSS OMGGG

Nosy Girlie 1: 👀 GIRL WTF IS THAT?!

Nosy Girlie 2: NO WAYYYY

Nosy Girlie 3: You can’t drop something like that and disappear with no context. HELLO??

Tara: i’m like 99% sure Y/N’s pregnant. I heard her say it!!

Nosy Girlie 1: WHAAA?! TAA BABY COOKING???

Nosy Girlie 2: OMG TRENT DAD ERA COMING SOON 👶🏽

Nosy Girlie 1: It must be really early stages.. STB is gonna lose it when they find out

Nosy Girlie 3: Maybe we shouldn’t? That’s kind of invasive, no?

Tara: Agreed. They’ve been in the headlines so much..prob not a good idea. Keep it between the chat? Don’t tell anyone

Nosy Girlie 2: 🌚🌝

One Week Later:

SpillTheBeansUK: 🚨💥 EXCLUSIVE ALERT 💥🚨 Y/N PREGNANT WITH TAA’S BABY?! 👶🏽🍾 According to a very reliable source (you know we love a verified anonymous tip 👀), it looks like Y/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold might be entering their PARENT ERA! 💫 We can’t confirm specifics just yet but we’ve seen proof there’s a little scouser on the way. ALLEGEDLY!!!! 😳

Red4Life: we’ve officially entered a new era 🐐

FootieFan123: Bruh let that man live. Who cares if he’s having a kid? Focus on the next match! ⚽️

HonestlyNotMad: oh their genetics are about to pop off and create the most beautiful child we’ve ever seen.. BabyStan101:

So THAT’S why he was mixing the air during the celebration! Was he practising for baby formula? 😭😂

GirlWTF: ok hear me out... Saffron Essence Alexander-Arnold? Do we think they’re going full on weird with the name or normal?? What about Cielle or Ivy? Trenton?! TIBERIUS??

SheKnowsTheLore: Tbh I can already see the headline: ‘Baby Rêveur Spritz Thierry Alexander-Arnold dominates TikTok at 4 months old.’

FootieTroll123: Y/N is just using Trent for clout of course she trapped him with a baby

YNProtectionSquad: FootieTroll you will begin to cough in 3 days..mark my words on this day

Footie_Stan87: Y/N will keep that baby more hidden than Area 51. We’ll never see them!

YNTrentForever: Imagine the first pic we get is the baby in a tiny kit? omg 🥺

SuperSleuth99: Has anyone else noticed there’s no info about her parents anywhere? Like literally nothing. I couldn’t find a single thing online. It’s weird.

FBIAgent: SuperSleuth I clocked that too! She’s close with Camille’s family, right? Bet they had something to do with it. Probably wiped everything clean.

GirlWithSense: You lot are all mental. Beans is just losing their head over some dodgy anon DM. Probably just some uni student bored out of their mind stirring the pot! VenusianLoverGirl: Y/N and T are gonna be together forever I just know it! That celebration he did for her was filled with pure love. Wishing them the best xx 🥺

i've been waitinggg to write this plotline since ch 6 (there are some hints in ch 6-8 if you go back and look 🤭)

thank you for reading this far! pls share thoughts!!

song inspo:

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold angst #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #taa x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #fem!reader #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold imagine #Spotify

65 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 2 months ago

Note

Which of the guys would be open to participate in a self care/spa day with you? 🛁🫧💅

This one I separated into categories for who genuinely enjoys, stands it for you, or only allows it when a daughter wants to play (and no, that's not with you, but 'he' just needs worn way down to allow it). No warnings but I bet you'll find some surprises...

Truly Finds Joy In Self-Care

Ransom Drysdale, Johnny Storm, Jake Jensen, and Lloyd Hansen

I think we all know that Ransom and Lloyd are preening, pretty bois, so this should come as no surprise to anyone. Ransom is more private with his beauty regimen, but he's not above paying good money to visit a fancy spa. Lloyd has entirely too much fun showing off how callus/indifferent he is by, ya know, ordering people's death by phone while a clay mask detoxes his pores, etc. He is also heavily critical of what products he will use again (i.e. if grittiness stuck in his mustache or if an exfoliant irritated his fresh shave).

Johnny and Jake are playful about it; Jake likes the process of relaxing more than Johnny. Jake nerds out on the chemical properties of ingredients. Johnny teases you about the frou-frou-ness of it all the whole time, HOWEVER, he is also the one who enjoys a foot massage more than any other character. Falls asleep within two damn minutes. It's bizarre and sort of endearing.

Would Do It To Please You

James Mace, Curtis Everett, and Steve Rogers

Curtis can make do with a bar of soap and a hot bath; that's really the pinnacle of indulgent care to him, but he knows you love the various face masks and lotions. He is highly amused by cucumber slices on his eyes but hates cucumber water (any infusion really, just drink some juice ffs). La Croix is better used to get blood out of this clothes than to drink. He thinks it's nasty.

Like Jake, Mace will dissect what ingredients will actually be beneficial and which products are just snake oil. He takes pride in helping you choose the best things to use or spend your time on. Mace is, unfortunately, the most practical man, and he will flat out refuse to indulge you if he has something else he needs to focus on.

Steve is a bit strange about this one. He love, love, loves for you to pamper yourself, but he will participate very reluctantly. He grew up being fawned over like a delicate doll, received treatment after treatment--often to no effect,--and even resorted to some of those far-fetched, home remedies for various ailments. Yes, his mom was a nurse and a woman of science. Yes, he did follow doctors' advice whenever they offered a useful solution. But also, yes, he was so sick with so many things for so long that he tried everything.

Steve associates a lot of self-care 'treatments' with being ill...which he is not...not anymore. Please, do not get him started on essential oils. You think he lectures as Cap? Hoo boy...

Begrudgingly Is A Daughter's Palette

Jimmy Dobyne, Ari Levinson, and Bucky Barnes

For Jimmy, there's just some stuff you do for your kids simply because they're your kids, and playing with makeup or face mask, nail polish or hair clips, and even every product around the rim of the tub is one of those things.

Ari and Bucky get roped into plaiting practice since they have some length of hair to braid, but these two do not sit still well. They each find sneaky ways to let their girls enjoy spa stuff while they do not have to. Your daughter can get a little manicure while he gets a haircut or shave. That's about the extent of their 'enjoyment.'

As for why they won't participate with you specifically? Jimmy, Ari, and Bucky all consider spa/self-care to be a thing you should do with your girl friends (or your daughters, hint hint). These three place a heavy value on you keeping up those fun relationships with others. They also know that when the ladies do a spa day, the men folk are free to meet up for something else, like sports or drinking or both.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would' Ask List; Ko-Fi]

64 notes · View notes

essentialsspringhill · 5 months ago

Text

Beyond Relaxation: How Neuromuscular Massage Can Improve Your Health

Neuromuscular massage (NMT) can be a powerful tool to address these issues and promote overall well-being. Feeling achy and tense? You're not alone. Many of us carry tightness in our muscles, leading to pain, stiffness, and reduced range of motion.

What is Neuromuscular Massage?

NMT is a focused form of massage therapy that targets specific areas of muscle tension called trigger points. These trigger points are like knots in the muscle fibers that can cause pain not just locally, but also in seemingly unrelated areas.

How Does it Work?

A neuromuscular massage therapist uses various techniques, including applied pressure, friction, and stretching, to deactivate these trigger points. This can improve blood flow to the area, reduce inflammation, and promote relaxation of the muscle fibers.

Benefits of Neuromuscular Massage

NMT offers a range of benefits, including:

Pain Relief: By addressing trigger points, NMT can be very effective in reducing chronic pain, headaches, and muscle soreness.

Improved Flexibility: As muscles loosen up, your range of motion can improve, allowing for better movement and performance in daily activities.

Enhanced Circulation: Increased blood flow to the targeted areas can promote healing and reduce inflammation.

Stress Reduction: The relaxation that comes with NMT can also help manage stress and improve overall well-being.

Who Can Benefit from Neuromuscular Massage?

NMT can be helpful for anyone experiencing muscle pain or tightness. It's particularly beneficial for athletes, people with desk jobs, and those dealing with chronic pain conditions.

Finding a Neuromuscular Massage Therapist

Look for a licensed massage therapist with experience in NMT. You can ask your doctor for a referral or search online for qualified practitioners in your area.

Is Neuromuscular Massage Right for You?

While NMT is generally safe, it's always best to consult with your doctor before starting any new massage therapy, especially if you have any underlying health conditions.

Conclusion

Neuromuscular massage is a targeted approach to pain relief and improved muscle function. If you're looking for a way to address muscle tension and promote overall well-being, NMT may be worth considering. Talk to your healthcare professional or a qualified massage therapist to see if it's right for you.

#hand and stone facial and massage spa #neuromuscular massage #prenatal massage #reflexology massage #Essentials Massage and Day Spa #swedish massage

0 notes

littleadaline · 6 months ago

Text

Mon rayon de Soleil [M.G38]

Reader is Marc’s sunshine

Warnings: noooooone

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I will be attempting to write this story using first person POV, so please please pretty please tell me if that is something you enjoy reading, or if you prefer the 3rd person POV.

————————————————————

Days off were my favourite. I always wanted to go out, see the beach, despite having seen it hundreds, if not, thousands of times. My ideal day off consisted of waking up early, packing sandwiches, and spending the day out. Marc, on the other hand, had a very different vision. His ideal day off consisted of staying in bed and ordering in, wether it was breakfast, lunch or supper. In order to make each other happy, we compromised. We would sleep in, pack some light snacks for the afternoon, spend the afternoon at the beach, and come back home in time to order supper. This morning, things were different. I was woken up by an alarm coming from my parents’ bedroom. Lazily opening my eyes, I took a quick glance at the clock on my phone, groaning as I read the time; 8:33 A.M. I sighed, exhausted from only having gotten 4 hours of sleep, blame social media. As I was getting up to get on with my day, I heard noises coming from the kitchen. I knew my dad was already off to work, and my brother was away for university, so I couldn’t identify the man’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“Do you think she’ll like this?” It was Marc’s voice. What was he doing in my kitchen at 8:33 on a Wednesday?

“I have told you a thousand times, yes. She goes crazy for those pickled peppers. Add that to calamari sandwiches and she’s on cloud nine.” My mom confirmed with him.

“I really want her to have a nice day. She’s told me how stressed she’s been with work and school. And she’s been really keen on trying that new spa that opened.”

“So what do you have planned for her today then?”

“Bocadillos by the beach, some ice cream, by the beach again,” he grinned, “And a pamper session to finish the day. Should I… should I go wake her up?”

The floor creaked as I leaned into the doorway. My mom’s gaze diverted back to me, Marc still clueless about my presence.

“No need to wake her up.” She chuckled as Marc’s gaze found my figure standing in the doorway.

“Good morning nena, how’d you sleep?” He leaned in to kiss my forehead.

“Morning amor. I slept well, thank you.” I left a kiss on his cheek, my hand resting on his abdomen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation. We’re going to the beach?” I asked, walking over to the sink for a glass of water.

“Yeah, I got us some sandwiches and pickled peppers, courtesy of that sandwich shop you never seem to shut up about.” He playfully rolled his eyes. I chuckled, admiring the sight in front of you. Marc, with his eyes still full of sleep, yet so full of life; the way his dimples creased whenever he laughed, or so simply spoke. Every moment spent with him, I would fall deeper in love with the beauty of his personality and the way his eyes shone whenever I was in the room.

“And later in the afternoon, we’re gonna grab ice cream. Fermín and Gavi went there recently and they have not been able to shut up about it. Half the team now wants to go there.” He broke in a fit of laughter. “And to end the night on a sweet note, a massage session at that new spa place you have been raving about.” He pulled me into a hug, his abdomen pressing against my back. I could drown in moments like these. The simplicity of our relationship, the innocence of our love breathed life into our couple every day.

“There’s yogurt in the fridge if you want to grab a light snack before heading out. I should be done changing in 15 minutes.” I pecked him on the lips before leaving the kitchen.

Marc sat down at the dining table, making sure the backpack he had packed for the trip had all the essentials.

“Sunscreen, mosquito spray, bandages, snacks…” He was counting under his breath when I emerged back into the living room, having traded my pj’s for a pair of linen pants, one of Marc’s t-shirts that he had accidentally thrown into the dryer, and my sandals. I had my tote bag on my shoulder, bucket hat in hand.

“Ready to go amor?” I asked him, my hands resting on his forearm.

“Let’s go!” He kissed my cheek, grabbing my hand. We both waved goodbye at my mom as we left the house. Lucky for us, the beach wasn’t too far away from my house. After having lived in this neighbourhood my entire life, I learned new pathways to access the beach that would shield us from tourists or in this case… fans.

When we made it to the beach, the sun was shinning bright, pulling a groan from me. This did not go unnoticed by Marc, who dropped his backpack into the sand, yelling;

“Stay here! I’ll see if I can find us a spot in the shade!”

I sat down, my toes digging in the sand. I always liked this spot. When I was younger, my family and I used to spend our days out there, bringing a backpack filled with snacks and sandwiches and enjoying the weather from dawn until sunset. I heard Marc’s voice calling me as he waved me over.

“I found us a spot! It’s under a tree, so it’s got all the shade in the world!” He said excitedly.

Marc was referring to the ‘Forever Tree’. Back in the days, there used to be a rumour running around regarding the Forever Tree. Over the course of generations, couple who had sat down under the tree were known to be bound forever, their union only ever separated by death. But as time went on, the tree lost its popularity, leaving only a few locals to know about its ‘magic’.

“Do you want to start by going for a swim or eating?” Marc asked me as he laid down his towel on the ground.

“A swim would be nice. The heat’s killing me.” I chuckled as I took off my (Marc’s shirt), my pants following soon.

“Race you to the water?” Marc flashed me his killer smile before taking off in a sprint.

“Not fair! You’re the athlete, not me!” I yelled before running into the water, jumping into his arms. Marc caught me, surprised, before putting me back down on my feet, his hand never leaving my back. I could stay in this moment forever. Marc and I, in the water, chest flush against one another. The sun gently caressing our skin, prickling us with its rays. If I had one more moment to live, I would choose to spend it like this.

Marc’s movement pulled me out of my thoughts. His hand was now resting on my head, his fingers slightly brushing through my curls. He breathed in, his chest slowly rising against mine. His skin smelled of sunscreen, his perfume and my body mist, a combination of smells that symbolized home to me.

“I’m getting cold, I’m gonna lay down on my towels and enjoy some sun.” I let go of his hand, slowly emerging out of the sea. I could feel the sand clinging to my feet as I walked back to my towel. The sand was warm under my feet, the temperature slowly warming me up.

As I was setting up my towel in a warmer spot, Marc’s voice called out from the water.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat the sandwiches now?” I nodded yes as I chuckled. This guy was always thinking about food. Marc ran up to me, water dripping from his shorts and hair, before sitting down on my towel, his hand wrapping around my waist. I bent down to pick up a sandwich from the cooler before handing it to Marc.

“I hope they’re still fresh.” Marc said, biting into his sandwich. His eyes rolled back as he moaned in delight. “That is so fucking good.” He said, his mouth still full. “I need that recipe, one way or another.”

I laughed at his reaction, now taking a bite of my sandwich. Marc was right, these sandwiches were delicious.

“Holy- You’re right, we really do need the recipe. I could eat these day and night.”

We sat down in silence, basking in the sound of our sandwich wrappers and our delighted moans. Once we finished eating, Marc threw the wrappers away before sitting back down on the towel, pulling me closer to his chest.

“Alright princesa, spa next or ice cream next?”

“Mhh… The spa would be nice. Some mud mask would do wonders for our skin.”

Another hour went by before we started packing our stuff, making our way back to the house to get changed and head for the spa.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go?” Marc yelled out from the front door.

“Almost. I can’t find my wallet. Marc? Could you please start the car?”

I heard the door close and the garage door open. I found my wallet buried under my notebooks, on my desk. Sighing in relief, I grabbed my wallet and purse before exiting the house. A honk coming from the street caught my attention. I climbed in the car and Marc immediately drove off, catching me off guard.

“Hey there, you’re not a race car driver, Marc.” He laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologized, flashing me his lethal smile.

We arrived 15 minutes later to the spa, Marc pulling into the parking lot with a relieved smile.

“Doesn’t seem like a lot of people are here.”

Although Marc had progressed to sometimes playing with the first team, Marc’s family and I saw firsthand how fame had affected him. It wasn’t the fame per say, but the lack of privacy, the tabloids and being put on a pedestal by some fans, when he was simply an 18 year old kid with dreams and a bright future. I knew the smile of relief on Marc’s face wasn’t from the fact that we had finally made it to the spa, but rather, the decreased chances of being recognized in public.

“Marc…” I said as he turned off the car’s ignition.

“Mh?” He stopped in his tracks.

“Let’s skip the spa.” I blurted out, avoiding eye contact.

Marc shifted back into his seat to look at me.

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted to come here?” He sat back down in his seat.

“I did and I do, but I would much rather do something with you where you don’t constantly have to look out for a crowd or fans. Seeing how relieved you were when you realized there weren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot made me realize you wouldn’t be able to relax. You wouldn’t have enjoyed this outing, and neither would I.”

“So what do we do now?” He took my hand in his, his thumb brushing over.

“Let’s go home, put on a movie and do some sheet face masks. We can still get ice cream in the evening.” I pecked him on the lips, my hand finding the nape of his hair.

“Alright, princesa. But I pick the movie this time.” He jokingly pouted.

The drive back home was calmer, the sun blessing us with its golden rays. I closed my eyes, the smooth roar of the engine lulling me to a near state of sleep. I could smell Marc’s perfume travel around the car every time he looked over at my still figure.

“Keep your eyes on the road, cabrón. We have a movie to watch and ice cream to eat. It would be a shame to die because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me.” I teased him, my eyes half open. I heard Marc laugh and shake his head before I closed back my eyes. Marc finally pulled into my driveway and slightly nudged me awake.

“I’m awake!” I yawned. Marc turned off the engine before sliding out of his seat and running to the passenger door.

“M’lady.” He opened the door for me, his hand extending to mine.

We made it back to the front door, walking in to find the house empty and dark.

“I’ll grab the face masks and blankets. You can pick the movie in the meantime. Popcorn?” I asked him, standing in the bathroom doorway.

“I can do popcorn. I’ll grab us some water.” I grabbed the face masks from my not-so-secret stash and the blankets from the bathroom closet. Marc already had the popcorn in a bowl.

“So,” I said, throwing a blanket at him. ”What are we watching?” I scooched closer to him, my head resting on his shoulder.

“Grown Ups.”

Marc turned on the movie and snaked his arm around my shoulder, forcing me to be flush against him. We stayed in the moment, erupting in laughter every now and then, our bodies pressed against each other, the feeling being more than familiar to us. My hand found his index finger, grabbing it gently. Marc let me.

Neither of us liked to admit it, but this simple action brought us both comfort. The thought of knowing that we had each other, we could rely on one another. Maybe I was looking too far into the future, but the only thing on my mind was to continue these little traditions with Marc as my husband; Marc as the father of our children.

As the credits rolled, Marc nudged me awake.

“Falling asleep again, mhh?” He teased me. “Let’s skip the ice cream. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after training.”

“What? No, Marc, I feel awful. We already skipped out on the spa, the ice cream was the easy part.”

“Hey, the ice cream will still be there tomorrow. We’ll go shopping after training and grab some ice cream on the way home. Deal?” He reached to peel off my face mask.

“Deal.” I whispered, feeling his gaze burn through my skin. My cheeks were heating up.

“That mask did wonders. You’re glowing. Like a ray of sunshine.” He kissed my forehead.

“I’m your ray of sunshine.” I smiled at him, fighting a yawn.

“That… you are.” He pecked my lips before scooping me up and carrying me to the bedroom.

He laid me down on my side of the bed before sliding under the covers, his arms finding my abdomen. I laid my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowly slow down.

“Good night, sunshine.” He kissed my temple.

“Good night my love.” I kissed his hand.

Marc’s breath slowed down as he fell asleep, his grip loosening on my waist. I nuzzled myself in between his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his body.

That’s what I loved about our relationship. We adapted to one another, we went with the flow. We found time to show up for each other, despite our busy schedules and the difference in our worlds. Marc brought warmth in my life, stability, amongst the journey that was… being a teenager. And I was eternally thankful for that night we met.

#marc guiu x reader #marc guiu imagine #marc guiu #fc barcelona #barca #barcelona #march guiu one shot #pablo gavi #pedri #gavi #fermin lopez #ferran torres #littleadaline

138 notes · View notes